Day 1 A news report breaks in [REDACTED] New York about a man waking up the previous morning, and attempting to turn on his TV to watch the latest episode of his favourite show, only for his remote to crumble in his hand. Confused as to what was going on, the man would attempt to manually turn on his TV, only to accidentally pull a chunk of it off. It was at this moment, that the man would discover that his TV had been replaced with a hyper-realistic cake. The man would question his wife about where the TV went, and why there was a hyper-realistic cake in its place. However, his wife was just as confused as he was about the entire situation at hand. The man would attempt to report this to his local authorities, claiming his TV had been stolen and replaced with a hyper-realistic cake. Only to be laughed off as a prankster due to his ridiculous claim. Angry at this, he would take his story to the local news station hoping for justice to be served to whoever stole his TV. Once again, his claims were laughed off and published as a mere joke. The man would claim that there would be more cases of people’s items being replaced with hyper-realistic cakes going forward and that they would all regret ignoring his case.
Day 29 Police reports coming from all over [REDACTED] New York would reveal the man’s words to be correct. Starting after a young woman would attempt to open her purse, only for the zip to completely come off upon being pulled and quickly break apart, taking some of the modelling chocolate with it. Soon people would begin reporting all over the area that their items had been completely replaced with cake. Phones, laptops, bags, earrings, necklaces, rings and even stacks of cash were discovered to have been replaced with hyper-realistic cakes. Local authorities, having now clearly learned that this was no prank, are looking into the cases to try and track down these valuable items. However, one thing these cases all have in common (aside from the cakes being delicious) is the complete lack of evidence pointing to any suspects. No DNA evidence, no signs of forced entry, and no people in the area at the time. Nobody is even sure when these items were replaced with cakes. They all say they could've sworn they were real a second ago, only to suddenly be cake. Almost as if there was no thief and they had just suddenly turned into cake. Authorities are still on the hunt for a possible suspect in this case, even though the wider New York authorities laugh at them for humouring these absurd claims.
Day 47 The situation has escalated much further than anyone could've possibly anticipated. Now the reports of items being replaced with hyper-realistic cake have rapidly expanded to the rest of New York. Hundreds of people are reporting that their valuable items are being discovered to be hyper-realistic cakes. A man would take his phone out of his pocket to check if he'd received any important emails, only for his phone to crumble into pieces of cake in his hand. A woman would attempt to cash in a check of $100,000 to a bank, only for the modelling chocolate on the check to smash into several pieces when placed down on the counter. A couple would attempt to hurry their kids into the car, worrying they may be late for school. Only for the car to fall apart right in front of them, as the door is pulled off and falls to the ground. People are getting scared, they're worrying that at any moment, any of their prized possessions could end up being a hyper-realistic cake. Nobody is sure what is real and what is cake anymore, so they've taken to trying to cut anything they own, hoping to weed out the cake from the non-cake. Many have ended up accidentally destroying many of the things they own in the process of doing this. But those who still have their stuff have taken to putting stickers on them to ensure they know they're real. That was until an edible sticker was found to be on the back of a hyper-realistic cake emulating a mobile phone. Now, people’s only option is to place all their valued possessions into safes, covered in locks with an 87-number code that not even they know. The governor of New York has commented on the situation claiming that he's doing all he can to try and solve the hyper-realistic cake mystery, but he can only do so much to calm the fear and paranoia that has overcome New York.
Day 93 The situation has dramatically escalated even further somehow, as the hyper-realistic cake plague has now begun heavily affecting the nearby states of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut and even some parts of Canada. Reports are coming in from all over the USA and even some of Mexico and South America of people’s items suddenly being replaced with ominous (albeit, tasty) hyper-realistic cakes. The president is doing nothing to quell the fear of US citizens, claiming the whole situation is ridiculous and that everyone is a fool for buying into it. People are starting to riot in the streets believing the president is not doing enough to try and prevent the appearance of hyper-realistic cakes. Many other countries are beginning to consider closing off all travel to the USA out of fear, and some like Germany even going through with it. The safes people were using to hold their valuable items are no longer safe. Many have been discovered to have been replaced with hyper-realistic cakes, leading to even greater fear and paranoia among citizens. And the worst thing of all. The police officer who was in charge of the case in [REDACTED] New York was discovered by his wife the previous night to have been replaced with an identical hyperrealistic cake. There is no evidence of where he may have gone, and there is no evidence pointing to who might've taken him. He has seemingly disappeared without a trace.
Day 149 As fear was reaching its limits, a spark of hope managed to emerge. Tension has been rising as countries all over the world have been receiving reports of people disappearing, and being replaced with hyper-realistic cakes. Even including those that shut off travel to the USA. The president has continued to display pure apathy to the situation, claiming the whole thing to be a farce, until he discovered one morning his wife had been turned into a hyper-realistic cake. Outraged at this, he demanded the perpetrator be immediately found and caught. He banned the selling of any ingredients that could be used to make a hyper-realistic cake, including flour, sugar, eggs, butter, baking powder, chocolate, honey, macaroni and cheese (he does not know how to make a cake, and decided it was better safe than sorry). But even then, hyper-realistic cakes continued to appear. Now even houses and everything in them were getting replaced with giant hyper-realistic cakes, twice the size of an average human being. The president was getting desperate now and was willing to do anything to catch the man responsible for this. So he had cameras set up on every street in every city in every state across the entire USA. And he had every cop working 24/7 on the sight of each camera making sure nothing was replaced with a hyper-realistic cake, and if they were to see hyper-realistic cake-related activities, they were to press a button, sounding the alarm. Yesterday, after weeks and weeks of nothing. An extremely tired officer managed to catch a woman attempting to replace a baby with a hyper-realistic cake. The woman, upon being caught, would quickly admit she was behind the hyper-realistic cake shenanigans. She was immediately brought to Washington DC where the president would proceed to scream and cry at her for hours before demanding she be placed in a holding cell so she could be questioned the following day. This was quickly announced by White House officials and the world began celebrating, praising the president as a hero who was able to end the hyper-realistic cake plague. The joyful people of the world are currently awaiting a word from the US president on who this mysterious woman is, what her motives are and where she’s keeping all these missing people.
Day 180 To the horror of everyone around the globe, the following morning, all hope was lost and all dreams were dashed. The woman taken captive last night was found to have been replaced with a hyper-realistic cake, just as everyone was. The president demanded a search for any evidence indicating how she could've escaped, but they were unable to find anything. Even the cameras meant to keep track of the woman had mysteriously failed to capture anything the previous night. This was the breaking point for the president, and as a result of this, he'd soon become wrapped up in an extremely insane conspiracy. He'd soon begin to believe the cake was a being that was more powerful than any of them, and that it needed to be eradicated at all costs. The presidents would proceed to declare Marshall law and cut off all transport to other countries. People, seeing exactly what was going to happen, attempted to escape the country by piloting the planes and boats themselves. Only to discover the planes and boats were all hyper-realistic cakes, that were unable to fly and would easily sink in water. The president would also declare that all cake is to be thoroughly burned, and anyone believed to be a cake is to be executed on sight, preferably by being cut with a blade. The president would have all secret service agents executed, claiming that they were conspiring with the cake and aided the woman in escaping custody. But even if this wasn't enough for the president, soon he’d begin believing that other countries were made of cake too and declared that any countries believed to be “cake countries” would be bombed off the map. Starting with Mexico, he sent wave after wave of bombs to the country until he was sure anyone inside was dead. He'd soon turn his attention to Germany, believing that it was also a “cake country” due to them previously closing off transportation from the USA there. Soon, Germany was no more, and the president would celebrate that he had destroyed another “cake country”. It seemed like to the president, that every country except the USA was a cake country, and no amount of bombing he did would change that. Everyone knew the sheer amount of bombs he was using was going to destroy the planet, but he didn't care. But just as quickly as this began, it ended. Yesterday, a large angry mob stormed the White House. The president would attempt to bomb the mob, only to discover the bomb launchpad had been replaced with cake. The mob quickly overpowered anyone left supporting the president with sheer numbers, and they swiftly beat the president to death in a manner too disturbing to even attempt to describe. Blood was everywhere, but they didn't care anymore, the dictator was dead.
Day 294 Shortly after the president's death, the USA descended into chaos. People were still being replaced with cake, and nobody had any way to contact people outside the USA, as every single phone was seemingly now a hyper-realistic cake. Many don't even believe there's anyone left out there, and that they were all killed by the president. People quickly began to believe the president was right, and that all the other countries were now just cake. But they took it one step further, they now began to ponder if the entire globe itself was just one giant cake. People began getting so scared of others being cake, that they would attempt to cut anyone they meet just to see if they were cake. There is no food left now besides hyper-realistic cakes, and many are so scared of them that they refuse to even go near them, let alone attempt to eat them. Many are dying from starvation, and those willing to eat the cakes are usually branded as “cake people” and killed on sight. There's still no sign of the people who went missing and were replaced with hyper-realistic cakes. Many believe they just vanished from reality itself or that they were taken by the cake. Some people have begun to worship the cake as a god and make sacrifices to it believing it'll bring their loved ones back. Reality is crumbling, society has fallen apart and it won’t be long until humanity is gone.
Day 334 Not even a year following the first-ever incident, the last human being on earth has died today. Alone, cold and afraid. There is nothing left. No trees, no grass, no water, no animals, no humans, nothing. The only thing that remains now is the hyper-realistic cakes. And that, is the story, of how I destroyed humanity with FUCKING CAKES! I guess in the end you could say… it was real.

Steps numbered Below.
The outcome of default always bothered me quite a bit. Largest effort in favor of diplomacy resulting in least reward and most violence. And come on! Killing Dashwood? Roy, you dick!
First of all, contrary to some threads there is no way afaict to do this without console. Agree to walk the gouls to the tower and if you have the "Shoot em in the head" quest active, you will see that TenPenny is immediately dead before Roy ever leaves the sewer. Get goul mask and immediately kill the trio. Ten Penny will still erase all the smooth skins (though weirdly not on the dot at 72 hours but a good bit after that.) The game is just written so this will happen.
Getting a little familiar with console on my last playthrough I tried to do something about it and this is what worked for me. More detail and maybe more steps than are strictly necessary as it's something I pasted together and inferred from multiple places but I don't know for sure what I could prune and personally I keep finding less detail than would let me pull it off just from the one source.

1. I console killed all (~, click on them so their name displays at the top, type "kill", hit return, and ~ again) all the bigoted human's you had to deal WITHOUT convincing them to leave or getting them killed by each other and the trio of gouls as soon after they were in the tower.
   
2. I checked all the cells with their dead bodies regularly so the didn't disappear while waiting till all the humans disappeared.
   
3. After all the humans disappeared I brought back Lydia with the following (hit enter after each line)
   

~ Prid 156DA kill resurrect disable enable SetAv Aggression 0 ~
From here she acted happy that I had dealt with the gouls but I had no other conversation options.

1. So I left for some time. Not sure how long but I did a few small dungeons/quests. When I came back she was back to her normal self as a merchant.
   
2. I did the same with Masters. (prid 1f981) He also had had a delay in getting his full dialogue.
   
3. So I again left for a bit and came back. When I came back they were both there and both sharing the shop with separate money and inventories.
   
4. I did Ling and Bessie next. And likewise left for a bit and came back and determined they were both functioning as merchants and not killing each other. (The rest of the Prid numbers are the Ref ID under the "technical" Sub tab on fandom.)
   

8 Then I did all the rest of the missing humans including generic "residents" and "guards".

1. I left Roy dead because I feel like he most deserves it.

A short time later everything is functioning. It's been stable for at least 4 hours of game play, 3 days real time and multiple quits and reloads and staying away from it for 72 in game hours. Hasn't jammed up any quests.
So I get all the merchants from siding with the humans plus 2 more with separate money and inventory.
What's more is, as long as I am not involved, they interact with each other just as any other residents of a local, all the dialogue back and forths etc.
And when they talk to me with something like "you sure showed the gouls a thing or two.." I know they mean, "about living together peacefully with humans." :)
Note: I am now pretty sure one could just leave the gouls alive and resurrect all the humans as above and just count on it sorting itself out if the dialogue didn't update right away. But I haven't tried it that way.

Hi guys, I have a client who is quadriplegic (cerebral palsy) who uses an Eye-gazing device and I am running out of creative activities to do with them.
They have such a hard time with clicking on the correct icon we’re targeting despite using a focus stimulation tool that hovers over the icon and we also use vocabulary builder but the moment it is off, they do not click on the correct icon and it’s hard to tell if it’s intentional or not. The goal is for them to create a short phrase (even the correct icon more than once at this point) and it’s been almost a year and we’re still not able to click on correct icons after repeating activities/target words for multiple sessions. I’ve used AAC language lab for ideas but since they are quadriplegic it is limited. They have had a device for about two years now, I’ve only had them as a client for one but I’m getting discouraged with seeing little to no progress.
Please give me some ideas! I really want them to request needs like “help” or “I need” and “I want” etc.
Thank you in advance!

I apologize in advance this may get a but wordy. Also, take a shot every time you see the word energy (please don't)
Lots of people are of the opinion that Luffys stamina issues are dumb, but when you look at it from an anatomical viewpoint, they make sense.
Every single movement you make, no matter how large or small, expends cellular energy (stamina), no matter how large or small it is. When you run out of energy, you have to refuel by taking in food. You improve your stamina with physical activity, keep burning your energy until the body learns to use less. Now of course diet and other things go into energy levels, but this is Luffy, a bottomless pit that can instantly digest food if he feels like it.
With that in mind, let's look at Luffy. He's stretchy and chaotic. Him stretching is an incredibly large movement, using much more energy than the average person for a simple punch. He's chaotic and all over the place, expending more cellular energy for no reason. He also stated he's always at maximum effort, therefore always expending more energy. The amount of energy he uses just existing is probably twice as much as the average person per day, not counting fights. He consumes a huge amount of food for 2 reasons, the first being his stomach is rubber, the second being he needs much more than the average person by default.
Now we look at gears. 2nd gear is self explanatory, extreme strain on your circulatory system to basically dope yourself with your own blood would kill a normal person, but luffy is rubber so he can handle the strain, but it's still a large energy consumption, then add on how fast he moves while using 2nd gear, his normal energy consumption probably triples.
3rd gear I had a bit of trouble coming up with something to explain it. But bones have cells thst produce energy too, and they're getting inflated and stretched so it's gotta consume more energy right? But idk with the shrinking.
4th gear is basically a combination of 2nd and 3rd, but it's muscles being inflated instead of bone. Muscles store the majority of your bodies energy, and he's inflating them all, somehow increasing his elasticity and everything, consuming a massive amount of energy. Kicking so fast he's flying? Fists hunting down enemies like a heat seeking missile? You get the point, all huge amounts of energy.
Haki is another drain on his energy. Look at Whitebeard, he was sick and dying at Marineford. He couldn't use his haki much at all when he wasnt attached to IVs. Why is this? When you're sick your body devoted its energy to healing. Whwn you're receiving medication it lightens the bodies load ans you can have some energy to spare. Whitebeards body was failing him so it was using all his energy to stay alive, haki wasn't even a thought for his bodies prioritization of energy use.
Now let's look at gear 5, where people really started taking issue with his time limit. Gear 5 amplifies his chaotic nature, presumably let's him stretch without limit, and he can practically do anything he can imagine. Him awakening the fruit doesn't magically get rid of his need for energy. In fact, he's spending so much more. Constantly bouncing around, stretching farther than ever, inflating larger than ever! He's also constantly using haki in gear 5. Factor all that in and a time limit makes sense. He may have mastered gear 2 and 3 to have low-to-no drawback, but gear 4 and especially gear 5 and worlds apart in energy expenditure. There's no way for him to casually get better at g5, he's gotta continuously exhaust himself and gorge himself to work on the energy expenditure.
I even have an answer for why Luffy turns old when g5 runs out! Elderly folks do have saggy and droopy skin everywhere, but not without reason. A person's body only truly starts to die when cellular death speed exceeds cellular regeneration speed. When that happens, collagen, which is basically what holds your skin tight and prevents sagging, breaks down so skin starts to sag. When using g5, he expends so much energy that it wouldn't be far-fetched to say he pushes his body to the point of cellular death, therefore drooping because he's lost collagen. Of course he goes back to normal after eating because he's rubber, it always bounces back. If a normal person pushed themselves to the point of cellular death overpowering regeneration, there is mo coming back from that.
So yeah, if you made it all the way through, thanks for reading. None of this really matters because you can't apply real world stuff to OP but if you do the time limit makes sense.

Obsessed with the FallOut games or the new show? Join a fanfic spin off!
I was obsessing over the FallOut games when I made my own spin.
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Welcome to the year 2200. The bombs went off, World War III coming and going, leaving the world in a radioactive apocalypse. Nature is in ruins, biology so overloaded with radiation their genetic make up is mutated beyond redemption. The world has changed, the survivors must too, but it's not easy. Humans always find a way, as we all know. Even with all the odds stacked against us, humans prevail. This is true 58 years later, where our story begins.
When the bombs fell, the rich had taken shelter in the Oasis', created by the leading science companies. Most know of Vaulttek and their Vaults, this is not where we begin. Evolsys, a company created by a husband and wife duo proficient in biology and technology, had been leading the race against the war in creating the perfect weapon. They had created twenty life sustaining Oasis', most dedicated to the scientists employed by the company owners. What was once known as Area 51, located in Nevada, was purchased and turned into what is now known as Lab 51, the first Oasis created by Evolsys. Here is where we will begin.
Rumors had spread about human experimentation, though nothing had ever been proven. Those who went to investigate never found anything, or else they were never found. These secrets kept Evolsys from being part of the main contributors in the war, which was fine. Their work was dedicated to what they named Project N.O.L.A. No One Left Alive.
The doors to Lab 51 sealed shut when the bombs fell, every scientist working already aware this could be their final resting place. They never opened, until 2199, when a sole woman left, the doors closing behind her. They wouldn't have opened again, until an earthquake broke the underground sensor, and the doors unsealed. Welcome survivor, to the N.O.L.A. Project. Will you save the world?
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Basically a modern time Fallout style apocalypse. One of the survivors stumble upon the secrets of a lab designed to make bio weapons and will either activate it.. By opening the cryopod of a girl around the age of 20. Discover her secrets as you traverse the wasteland with her.

• 18+ please
• Smut okay but it would be a hella slow burn
• Males and Females welcomed
• Para to multi para please
• Proper grammar
• I'll put in as much effort as you do, don't make it a dry plot
• I work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, 8 - 7. Be patient I will get back to you.

Hi! Preparing to apply this summer, I don’t fully understand if at my stage there would be any problems due to age, being out of traditional undergad activities.
Most importantly, I know I have some decent stats, but sometimes I have an imposter syndrome. Should I downplay my achievements to be on the safe side not to come across as bragging or should I be myself, go for it, and put everything the way I see it confidently?
Geo: Ontario IP, NS OOP
I also don’t have any hospital volunteering.
My stats: 1st time applying BSc in Life Science, Queen’s, 3.87 OMSAS/ 4 after first year for wGPA MSc Queen’s Finishing PhD in neuroscience at Dal No gaps
MCAT: 130/130/132/129 CASPER: score 4th quartile on sample tests
Languages: 3 native languages, 3 non-native advanced including French. (Should I put bilingual?)
Awards: Killam Doctoral, Nova Scotia GS, Dal Faculty of Medicine Res Award, Excellence in Res Prizes, Canadian Brain Res Consortia Prizes, MSc Fellowships, Undergraduate Dean’s awards, principal’s scholarship PhD candidacy with distinction 1st prize graduate research day 1st prize from my department Travel awards from conferences
Research: 1 MSc first author + 1 second PhD: 2 2nd authors+ working on 3 1st author papers
Volunteering: mentoring junior students in my lab (is this worth adding or kinda expected from a phd student?)-450 h created a chess club for visiting local retirement homes - 100h occasional volunteering for brain injury survivors - 30h/year fund raisers for an epilepsy clinic in Africa - 30 h/year NS Chess Association volunteer referee for kids - 40h/year At Queen’s: was a community kitchen dishwasher - 200 h No long term hospital commitment to show (???)
EC: Won the provincial pitch competition and went to Europe to represent my school - 100h Did a research collaboration in Germany - 3 months Co-founded a neuroscience society that is a member of the International Brain Res Organization and Federation of European Nsci Societies - secured $40,000 for organizing conferences and awards for other disadvantaged students On the PhD expert program with my Faculty- writing monthly editorials + publishing in national media Other typical stuff such as clubs etc.
Work: TAed for 7 years with 300 hours in anat. Also micr, nsci. Tutored medical, dental, pharmacy students.
Personal: Came to Canada at 16, alone. Became a PR from 0. Faced unjustified visa refusals but worked with the local authorities to overcome the issue.
What do you think?

In 2019 at the age of 50, I was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer. PSA 7.5, MRI confirmed a 1.9 cm lesion "in the left base to apex peripheral zone" with PI-RADS 5. Biopsy was positive in 9 of 12 cores, with 5 cores 3+4 Gleason and 4 cores 3+3. After doing my research and lots of discussion with a relative who had gone through this before, I elected to have "whole gland" HIFU in September 2019. The surgeon had done hundreds of the procedures before and is the only one in my state that does them.
Post-HIFU, my PSA dropped to .16 ng/mL and stayed at around that level through August 2021. Since then, it's been rising slightly and in March of this year it was at 1.36. Still not more than 2 ng/mL over the nadir but obviously concerning. My next PSA test is set for next week.
I had another MRI in February 2024 that identified a 0.6 x 0.2 cm lesion in the left peripheral zone at the base. Next was the PET Scan which showed "focus of increased uptake in the left posterior prostate that may represent recurrent disease." But, thankfully, no other areas of concern. Finally, the recent biopsy showed 5 cores positive, one in the left lateral apex and the other 4 on the right. All were 3+3 = 6 Gleason.
I've watched some of Dr. Scholz's videos, including one in which he says that Gleason 6 "never" becomes Gleason 7 and "cannot" metastasize. Of course, others appear to disagree with that and there's always the possibility that the radiologist misinterpreted the cells he was examining or that the biopsy missed some cells that are more aggressive. I'm concerned because the left apex was where the first lesion was located and now I still have a lesion in that area. How likely is it that it was 3+4 in 2019, but that same area has a 3+3 lesion now? Seems unlikely to me, honestly. Seems more likely that the HIFU missed some cells from that original lesion.
Since HIFU, I've resumed basically a normal life. No problems at all with incontinence or sexual function. But, I'm definitely concerned about the side effects of any treatment I might have to have in the future. If I had to have treatment, I'd prefer some form of focal therapy but I'm not sure if I'm a candidate given my history.
I'm fairly confident that a 3+3 Gleason with no symptoms and still low PSA would result in an "active surveillance" recommendation from most doctors these days. But, I'm wondering if that's still true for someone like me who has already had treatment and now has a recurrence. Anyone had any similar issues following HIFU or other focal treatments? Any other advice? This forum has been really helpful for me over the last several months as I've been lurking and getting all these tests done so thanks for that and, in advance, for any advice anyone might have for me.

PLAYBOY Interview With Conan O'Brien Interview by Kevin Cook For Playboy Magazine February 1998
A candid conversation with the preppie prince of "Late Night" about his rocky start, his show's secret one-day cancellation and how David Letterman saved the day.
He was polite. He was funny. He gave us a communicable disease.
At 34 Conan O'Brien is hotter than the fever he was running when we met in his private domain above the "Late Night" sound stage. A gangly freckle-faced ex-high school geek he is "one of TV's hottest properties" according to "People" magazine. The host of "Late Night With Conan O'Brien" has become his generation's king of comedy.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Congested too, but O'Brien has far more to worry about than his head cold. A perfectionist who broods over one bad minute in an otherwise perfect hour of TV, he worries he might be anhedonic, "I have trouble with success," he says, "I was raised to believe that if something good happens something bad is coming." Sure things look good now "Rolling Stone" calls "Late Night" "the hottest comedy show on TV." Ratings are better than ever, particularly among 18- to 34-year-olds, the viewers advertisers crave.
But O'Brien only works harder. Despite his illness he taped two shows in 26 hours on three hours' sleep. He smoothly interviewed Elton John then burst into coughing fits during commercials. Later in his crammed corner office overlooking Manhattan traffic Conan the Cool gulped Dayquil gel caps. He coughed spewing microbes.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. Of course O'Brien can't complain. He came seriously close to falling to being banished behind the scenes as just another failed talk show host.
At his first "Late Night" press conference he corrected a reporter who called him a relative unknown, "Sir I am a complete unknown," he said. That line got a laugh, but soon O'Brien looked doomed. His September 13, 1993 debut began with O'Brien in his dressing room preparing to hang himself only to be interrupted by the start of his show. Before long his career was hanging by a thread. Ratings were terrible. Critics hated the show. Tom Shales of "The Washington Post" called it as "lifeless and messy as roadkill." Shales said O'Brien should quit.
Network officials held urgent meetings discussing the Conan O'Brien debacle. Should they fire him? How should they explain their mistake?
In the end of course he turned it around. The network hung with him long enough for the ratings to improve and the host of the cooler-than-ever "Late Night" now defines comedy's cutting edge just as Letterman did ten years ago.
Even Shales loves "Late Night" these days. He calls O'Brien's turnaround "one of the most amazing transformations in television history."
O'Brien was born on April 18, 1963 in Brookline, Massachusetts. His father, a doctor, is a professor at Harvard Medical School. His mother, a lawyer, is a partner at an elite Boston Law firm. Conan, the third of six children became a lector at church and a misfit at school. Tall and goofy, bedeviled with acne, he tried to impress girls with jokes. That plan usually bombed, but O'Brien eventually found his niche at Harvard where he won the presidency of the "Harvard Lampoon" in 1983 and again in 1984 - the first two-time "Lampoon" president since humorist Robert Benchley held the honor 85 years ago.
After graduating magna cum laude with a double major in literature and American history he turned pro. Writing for HBO's "Not Necessarily The News." O'Brien was earning $100,000 a year before his 24th birthday. But writing was never enough.
He honed his performance skills with the Groundlings, a Los Angeles improv group. There he worked with his onetime girlfriend Lisa Kudrow, now starring on "Friends." But Conan was not such a standout. In 1988 he landed a job at "Saturday Night Live" - but as a writer, not as on-air talent. In almost four years on the show O'Brien made only fleeting appearances, usually as a crowd member or security guard. His writing was more memorable. He wrote (or co-wrote) Tom hanks' "Mr Short-Term Memory" skits as well as the "pump you up" infosatire of Hanz and Franz and the nude beach sketch in which Matthew Broderick and "SNL" members played nudists admiring one another's penises. With dozens of mentions of the word that hit was the most penis-heavy moment in TV history. It helped O'Brien win an Emmy for comedy writing.
In 1991 he quit "SNL" and moved on to "The Simpsons" where he worked for two years. His urge to perform came out in wall-bouncing antics in writers' meetings. "Conan makes you fall out of your chair" said "Simpsons" creator Matt Groening. O'Brien's yen to act out was so strong that he spurned Fox's reported seven-figure offer to continue as a writer. He was driving for the spotlight.
By then David Letterman had announced he was turning shin - leaving NBC taking his ton-rated act to CBS. Suddenly NBC was up a creek without a host. The network turned to Lorne Michaels, O'Brien's "Saturday Night Live" boss. Michaels enlisted Conan's help in the host search planning to use him in a behind-the-scenes job. But when Garry Shandling, Dana Carvey and almost every other star turned down the chore of following Letterman, Michaels finally listened to Conan's crazy suggestion, "Let me do it!" Michaels persuaded the network to entrust it's 12:30 slot which Letterman had turned into a gold mine to an untested wiseass from Harvard.
O'Brien was working on one of his last "Simpsons" episodes when he got the news. He turned "paler than usual," Groening recalled. The Conan moseyed back to where the other writers were working, "I'll come back with the Homer Simspon joke later. I have to go replace Letterman," he said.
NBC executives now get credit for their foresight during those dark days of 1993 and 1994. They snared the axe and now reap the multimillion-dollar spoils of that decision. In fact, the story is not so simple. We sent Contributing Editor Kevin Cook to unravel the tale of O'Brien's survival, which he tells here for the first time. Cook reports:
"His office is chock-full of significa. There's a three-foot plastic pickle the Letterman staff left behind in 1993 - perhaps to suggest what a predicament he was in. There's a copy of Jack Paar's 'I Kid You Not' and a coffee-table book called 'Saturday Night Live: The First 20 Years.' His bulletin board features letters from fans such as John Watters and Bob Dole and an 8" x 10" glossy of Andy Richter with the inscription: "To Conan - Your bitter jealousy warms my black heart. Love and Kisses Andy."
"Of course it's all for show. From the photos of kitch icons Adam West and Robert Stack to the framed Stan Laurel autograph, from the deathbed painting of Abraham Lincoln, to the ironic star taped to Conan's door - they're all clever signals that tell a visitor how to view the star. Lincoln was his collegiate preoccupation: stardom is his occupation. Somewhere between the two I hoped to find the real O'Brien.
"As a Playboy reader he wanted to give me a better-than-average interview. I wanted something more - a definitive look at the guy who may end up being the Johnny Carson of his generation."
"Here's hoping we succeeded. If not I carried his germs 3000 miles and infected dozens of Californians for no good reason.
O'Brien: Yes, this is how to do a Playboy Interview -- completely tanked on cold medicine. I'll pick it up and read, "Yes, I'm gay."
Playboy: We could talk another time. O'Brien: (coughing) No, it's OK. I memorized Dennis Rodman's answers. Can I use them?
Playboy: You sound really sick. Do you ever take a day off? O'Brien: No. The age of talk show hosts taking days off is over. Johnny Carson could go to Africa when he was the only game in town -- "See you in two weeks!" But nobody does that now. I will give you a million dollars on the first day Jay takes off for illness.
Playboy: Do you ever slow down and enjoy your success? O'Brien: If anything, the pace is picking up. Restaurateurs insist on giving me a table even if I'm only passing by, so I'm eating nine meals a night. Women stop me on the street and hand me their phone numbers.
Playboy: So you have groupies? O'Brien: Oh yes. And other fans. Drifters. Prisoners. Insomniacs. Cab Drivers, who must watch a lot of late night TV, seem to love me lately. They keep saying, "You will not pay, you will not pay, you make me happy!"
Playboy: How happy did your new contract make you? O'Brien: Terrified. The network said, "We're all set for five years." I said, "Shut up, shut up! I can't think that far ahead." Tonight, for instance, I do my jokes, then interview Elton John and Tim Meadows. We finished taping about 6:30. By 6:45 my memory was erased and my only thought was, Tomorrow: John Tesh. And I started to obsess about John Tesh. Sad, don't you think?
Playboy: Not too sad. You got off to a rocky start but now you're so hot that People magazine recently said, "that was then, this is wow." O'Brien: I try not to pay much attention. Since I ignored the critics who said I should shoot myself in the head with a German Luger, it would be cheating to tear out nice reviews now and rub them all over my body, giggling. Though I have thought about it.
Playboy: Tell us about your trademark gag. You interview a photo of Bill Clinton or some other celeb, and a pair of superimposed lips provide outrageous answers. O'Brien: We call it the Clutch Cargo bit, after that terrible old cartoon series. They saved money on animation by superimposing real lips on the cartoons. I wanted to do topical jokes in a cartoony way -- not just Conan doing quips at a desk. TV is visual; I want things to look funny. But we're not Saturday Night Live; we couldn't spend $100,000 on it. Hence, the cheap, cheesy lips, You'd be surprised how many people we fool.
Playboy: Viewers believe that's really the president yelling, "Yee-haw! Who's got a joint?" O'Brien: It's strange. You may know intellectually that Clinton doesn't talk like Foghorn Leghorn. Ninety-eight percent of your brain knows the president wouldn't say, "Whoa Conan get a load of that girl!" But there are a few brain cells that aren't sure. When Bob Dole was running for president we had him doing a past-life regression: "My cave, get away." And then back further, "Must form flippers to crawl on to rocky soil," he says. There may be people out there who believe that Bob Dole was the first amphibian.
Playboy: Do you ever go too far? O'Brien: The fun is in going too far. It's a nice device because you get Bill Clinton to do the nastiest Bill Clinton jokes. We'll have Clinton making fart noises while I say "Sir! Please!"
Playboy: Are you enjoying your job now, with your new success? O'Brien: Well, there are surprises. I hate surprises. Like most comics, I'm a control freak. But I am learning that the show works best when things are out of control. Tonight I ask Elton John if he likes being neighbors with Joan Collins. He says he isn't neighbors with Joan Collins. He lives next door to Tina Turner. So I panic -- huge mistake! But Elton saves the day. "Joan Collins, Tina Turner, it doesn't matter. Either way I could borrow a wig," he says. Huge laugh, all because I fucked up. Later he surprised me by blurting out that he's hung like a horse. The camera cuts to me shaking my head: That crazy Elton. What can I do? Of course, I'm delighted that he went too far.
Playboy: That "What can I do?" look resembles a classic take of Jack Benny's. O'Brien: There's an old saying in literature: "Good poets borrow; great poets steal." I think T.S. Eliot stole it from Ezra Pound. Comics steal, too. Constantly. When I watched Johnny Carson, I noticed that he got a few takes from Benny and Bob Hope. When a comedy writer told me how much Woody Allen had borrowed from Hope, I thought, What? They're nothing alike. Then I went back and watched Son of Paleface, and there's Hope, the nervous city guy backing up on his heels, wringing his hands and saying, "Sorry, I'll just be moving along." Now look at early Woody Allen. You see big authority figures and Woody nervously saying, "Look, I'll just be on my way." Of course Woody made it his own, but he must have watched and loved Bob Hope.
Playboy: Who are your role models? O'Brien: Carson. Woody Allen. SCTV. Peter Sellers. When Peter Sellers died I felt such a loss, thinking, There won't be anymore of that. There's some Steve Martin in my false bravado with female guests: "Why, hel-lo there!" And I won't deny having some Letterman in my bones.
Playboy: You were surprise as Letterman's successor. At first you seemed like the wrong choice. O'Brien: I didn't get ratings. That doesn't mean I didn't get laughs. Yes, I had a giant pompadour and I looked like a rockabilly freak. I was too excited, pushed too hard, and people said, "That guy isn't a polished performer." Fine! But it isn't my goal to be Joe Handsomehead cool, smooth talk show host. Late Night with Conan O'Brien is supposed to be a work in progress, and now that we've had some success there's a danger of our getting too polished and morphing into something smoothly professional. Which would suck.
Do you know why I wanted this show? Because Late Night with David Letterman played with the rules and it looked like fun. Here was a place where people did risky comedy every night for millions of people. We had to keep this thing alive. There should be a place on a big network where people are still messing around.
Playboy: How bad were your early days on the show? O'Brien: Bad. Dave left here under a cloud: his fans and the media were angry with NBC. Then NBC picks a guy with crazy hair and a weird name. And the world says, "Harvard? Those guys are assholes." I sincerely hope that the winter of December 1993, our first winter, was the worst time I will ever have. I'd go out to do the warm up and the back two rows of seats would be empty. That's hard to look at. I would tell a joke and then hear someone whisper, "Who's he? Where's Dave?"
Playboy: You had trouble getting guests. O'Brien: Bob Denver canceled on us. We shot a test show with Al Lewis of The Munsters. We did the clutch cargo thing with a photo of Herman Munster. Unfortunately, Fred Gwynne, who played Herman, had recently died, and Al Lewis kept pointing at the screen, saying, "You're dead! I was at your funeral!"
Playboy: For months you got worried notes from network executives. What did they say? O'Brien: They were worried. The fact that Lorne Michaels was involved bought me some time. But Lorne had turned to me at the start and said, "OK, Conan. What do you want to do?" Now television critics were after me and the network was starting to realize what a risk I was. Suggestions came fast and furious. I kept the note that said, "Why don't you just die?"
Playboy: Did they suggest ways to be funnier? O'Brien: They were more specific and tactical. The network gets very specific data. Say there was a drop in ratings between 12:44 and 12:48 when I was talking to Jon Bon Jovi. I'll be told, "Don't ever talk to him again" Or they'll want me to tease viewers into staying with us: "You should tease that -- say, 'We'll have nudity coming up next!'"
Playboy: You did come close to being cancelled. O'Brien: We were cancelled.
Playboy: Really? You have never admitted that. O'Brien: This is the first time I've talked about it. When I had been on for about a year, there was a meeting at the network. They decided to cancel my show. They said, "It's cancelled." Next day they realized they had nothing to put in the 12:30 slot, so we got a reprieve.
Playboy: Were you worried sick? O'Brien: I went into denial. I tried hard not to think, Yes, I'm bad on the air and my show has none of the things a TV show needs to survive. We had no ratings. No critics in our corner. Advertisers didn't like us. Affiliates wanted to drop us. Sometimes I'd meet a programming director from a local station where we had no rating at all. The guy would show me a printout with no number for Late Night's rating, just a hash mark or pound sign. I didn't dare think about that when I went out to do the show.
Playboy: Are you defending denial? O'Brien: How else does anyone get through a terrible experience? The odds were against me. Rationally, I didn't have much chance. Denial was my only friend. When I look back on the first year, it's like a scene from an old war movie: Ordinary guy gets thrown into combat, somehow beats impossible odds, staggers to safety. His buddy say, "You could have been killed!" The guy stops and thinks. "Could have been killed?" he says. His eyes cross and he faints.
Playboy: How did you dodge the bullet? O'Brien: There were people at NBC who stood up for me. I will always be indebted to Don Ohlmeyer, who stuck to his guns. Don said, "We chose this guy. We should stick with him unless we get a better plan." He was brutally honest. He came to me and said, "Give me about a 15 percent bump in the ratings and you'll stay on the air. If not, we're going to move on."
Playboy: Ohlmeyer started his career in the sports division. O'Brien: Exactly, his take was, "You're on our team." Of course, it wasn't exactly rational of Don to hope I'd be 15 percent funnier. It was like telling a farmer, "It better rain this week or we'll take your farm away."
Playboy: What did you say to Ohlmeyer? O'Brien: There wasn't time. I had to go out and do a monologue. But I will always be indebted to Don because he told me the truth. Wait a minute -- you have tricked me into talking lovingly about an NBC executive. Let me say that there were others who were beneath contempt -- executives who wouldn't know a good show if it swam up their asses and lit a campfire.
Playboy: Finally the ratings went your way. Hard work rewarded? O'Brien: Well, I also paid off the Nielsen people. That was $140,000 well spent.
Playboy: Ohlmeyer plus bribery saved you? O'Brien: There was something else. Just when everyone was kicking the crap out of the show, Letterman defended me.
Playboy: Letterman had signed off on NBC saying, "I don't really know Conan O'Brien, but I heard he killed someone." O'Brien: Then I pick up the paper and he's saying he thinks I am going to make it. "They do some interesting, innovative stuff over there," he says. "I think Conan will prevail." And then he came on as a guest. Remember, this was when we were at our nadir. There was no Machiavellian reason for David Letterman, who at the time was the biggest thing in show business, to be on my show.
Playboy: Why did he do it? O'Brien: I'm still not sure. Maybe out of a sense of honor. Fair play. And it woke me up. It made me think. Hey, we have a real fucking television show here.
Of six or seven pivotal points in my short history here, that was the first and maybe the biggest. I wouldn't be sitting here -- I probably wouldn't even exist today -- if he hadn't done our show.
Playboy: The Late Night wars were hardly noted for friendly gestures. O'Brien: How little you understand. Jay, Dave and I pal around all the time. We often ride a bicycle built for three up to the country. "Nice job with Fran Drescher!" "Thanks, pal. You weren't so bad with John Tesh." We sleep in triple-decker bunk beds and snore in unison like the Three Stooges.
Playboy: You talk more about Letterman than your NBC teammate Leno. O'Brien: I hate the "Leno or Letterman, who's better?" question. I can tell you that Jay has been great to me. He calls me occasionally.
Playboy: To say what? O'Brien: (Doing Leno's voice) "Hey, liked that bit you did last night." Or he'll say he saw we got a good rating. I call him at work, too. It can be a strange conversation because we're so different. Jay, for instance, really loves cars. He's got antique cars with kerosene lanterns, cars that run on peat moss. He'll be telling me about some classic car he has, made entirely of brass and leather, and I'll say, "Yeah, man, I got the Taurus with the vinyl." One thing we have in common is bad guests. There are certain actors, celebrities with nothing to say, who move through the talk show world wreaking havoc. They lay waste to Dave's town and Jay's town, then head my way.
Playboy: You must be getting some good guests. Your ratings have shown a marked improvement. O'Brien: Remember, when you're on at 12:30 the Nielsens are based on 80 people. My ratings drop if one person has a head cold and goes to bed early.
Playboy: Actually, you're seen by about 3 million people a night. Your ratings would be even higher if college dorms weren't excluded from the Nielsens. How many points does that cost you? O'Brien: I told you I'm an idiot. Now I have to do math too?
Playboy: Do you still get suggestions from NBC executives? O'Brien: Not as many. The number of notes you get is inversely proportional to your ratings.
Playboy: What keeps you motivated? O'Brien: Superstition. We have a stagehand, Bobby Bowman, who holds up the curtain when I run out for the monologue. He is the last person I see before the show starts, and I have to make him laugh before I go out. It started with mild jabs: "Bobby, you're drunk again." Bobby laughs, "Heehee."" Then it was, "Still having trouble with the wife, Bobby?" But after hundreds of shows, you find yourself running out of lines. It's gotten to where I do crass things at the last second. I'll put his hand on my ass and yell, "You fucking pervert!" Or drop to my knees and say, "Come on, Bobby, I'll give you a blow job!"
"Ha-ha. Conan, you're crazy," he says. But even that stuff wears off. Soon, I'll be making the writers work late to give me new jokes for Bobby.
Playboy: Did you plan to be a talk show host or did you fall into the job? O'Brien: I was an Irish Catholic kid from St. Ignatius parish in Brookline, outside of Boston. And that meant: Don't call attention to yourself. Don't ask for too much when the pie comes around. Don't get a girl pregnant and fuck up your life.
Playboy: Were you an alter boy? O'Brien: I wanted to be an alter boy, but the priest at St. Ignatius said, "No, no. You're good on your feet, kid," and made me a lector. A scripture reader at Mass. He was the one who spotted my talent.
Playboy: What did you think of sex in those days? O'Brien: I was sexually repressed. At 16 I still thought human reproduction was by mitosis.
Playboy: How did you get over your sexual repression? O'Brien: Who says I got over it? My leg has been jiggling this whole time.
Playboy: What were you like in high school? O'Brien: Like a crane galumphing down the hall. A crane with weird hair, bad skin and Clearasil. Big enough for basketball but lousy at it. My older brothers were better. I would compensate by running around the court doing comedy, saying, "Look out, this player has a drug addiction. He's incredibly egotistical."
I was an asshole at home, too. My little brother Justin loved playing cops and robbers, but I kept tying him up with bureaucratic bullshit. When he'd catch me, I'd say, "I get to call my lawyer." Then it was, "OK, Justin, we're at trial and you've been charged with illegal arrest. Fill out these forms in triplicate." Justin was eight; he hated all the lawsuits and countersuits. He just cried.
Playboy: Were you a class clown? O'Brien: Never. I was never someone who walked into a room full of strangers and started telling jokes. You had to get to know me before I could make you laugh. The same thing happened with Late Night. I needed to get the right rhythm with Andy and Max and the audience.
Playboy: So how did you finally learn about sex? O'Brien: My parents gave me a book, but it was useless. At the crucial moment, all it showed was a man and a woman with the bed covers pulled up to their chins. I tried to find out more from friends, but it didn't help. One childhood friend told me it was like parking a car in a garage. I kept worrying about poisonous fumes. What if the fumes build up? Should you shut off the engine?
Playboy: For all your talk about being repressed, you can be rowdy on the air. O'Brien: The show is my escape valve. When I tear off my shirt and gyrate my pelvis like Robert Plant, feigning orgasm into the microphone, that shows how repressed I am -- a guy who wants to push his sex at the lens but can only do it as a joke.
Playboy: Aren't you tempted to live it up? O'Brien: I always imagined that if I were a TV star I would live the way I pictured Johnny Carson living. Carousing, stepping out of a limo wearing a velvet ascot with a model on my arm. Now that I have the TV show, I drive up to Connecticut on the weekends and tool around in my car. I could probably join a free-sex cult, smoke crack between orgies and drive sports cars into swimming pools, and my Catholic guilt would still be there, throbbing like a toothache. Be careful. If something good happens, something bad is on the way.
Playboy: Yet you don't mind licking the supermodels. O'Brien: At one point a few of them lived in my building, women who are so beautiful they almost look weird, like aliens. To me, a woman who has a certain approachable amount of beauty becomes almost funny. It's the same with male supermodels. They look like big puppets. So while I admire their beauty I probably won't be "romantically linked" with a model. I'd catch my reflection in a ballroom mirror and break up laughing.
Playboy: The horny Roy Orbison growl you use on gorgeous guests sounds real enough -- O'Brien: Oh, I've been doing that shit since high school. It just never worked before.
Playboy: Your father is a doctor, your mother an attorney. What do they think of their son the comedian? O'Brien: My dad was the one who told me denial was a virtue. "Denial is how people get through horrible things," he said. He also cut out a newspaper article in which I said I was making money off something for which I should probably be treated. So true, he thought. But when I got an Emmy for helping write Saturday Night Live, my parents put it on the mantel next to the crucifix. Here's Jesus looking over, saying, "Wow, I saved mankind from sin, but I wish I had an Emmy."
Playboy: Ever been in therapy? O'Brien: Yes. I don't trust it. I have told therapists that I don't particularly want to feel good. "Repression and fear, that's my fuel." But the therapists said that I had nothing to worry about. "Don't worry Conan you will always be plenty fucked up."
Playboy: When a female guest comes out, how do you know whether to shake her hand or kiss her? Is that rehearsed O'Brien: No, and it's awkward. If you go to shake her hand and her head starts coming right at you, you have to change strategy fast. I have thought about using the show to make women kiss me, but that would probably creep out the people at home. I decided not to kiss Elton John.
Playboy: Do you get all fired up if Cindy Crawford or Rebecca Romijn does the show? O'Brien: I like making women laugh. Always have, ever since I discovered you can get girls' attention by acting like an ass. That's one of the joys of the show -- I'm working my eyebrows and going grrr and she's laughing, the audience is laughing. It's all a big put-on and I'm thinking. This is great. Here is a beautiful woman who has no choice but to put up with this shit.
But it's not always put on. Sometimes they flirt back. Sometimes there's a bit of chemistry. That happened with Jennifer Connelly of The Rocketeer.
Playboy: One guest, Jill Hennessy, took off her pants for you. Then you removed yours. Even Penn and Teller took off their pants. O'Brien: Something comes over me. It happened with Rebecca Romijn -- I was practically climbing her. Those are the times when Andy and the audience seem to disappear and it's just me and this lovely woman sitting there flirting. I keep expecting a waiter to say, "More wine, Monsieur?"
Playboy: Would you lick the wine bottle? O'Brien: It's true, there's a lot of licking on the show. I have licked guests. I have licked Andy. Comedy professionals will read this and say, "Great work, Conan. Impressive." But I have learned that if you lick a guest, people laugh. If I pick this shoe off the floor, examine it, Hmmm, and then lick it, people laugh. I learned this lesson on The Simpsons, where I was the writer who was forever trying to entertain the other writers. I still try desperately to make our writers laugh, which is probably a sign of sickness since they work for me now. Licking is one of those things that look funny.
Playboy: Johnny Carson never licked Ed McMahon. O'Brien: We are much more physical and more stupid than the old Tonight Show. Even in our offices before the show there's always some writer acting out a scene crashing his head through my door. A behind-the-scenes look at our show might frighten people.
Playboy: One night you showed a doctored photo of Craig T. Nelson having sex with Jerry Van Dyke. Did they complain about it? O'Brien: I haven't heard from them. Of course I'm blessed not to be a part of the celebrity pond. I have a television show in New York, an NBC outpost. I don't run with or even run into many Hollywood people.
Playboy: You also announced that Tori Spelling has a penis. O'Brien: I did not. Polly the Peacock said that.
Playboy: Another character you use to say the outrageous stuff. O'Brien: Polly is not popular with the network.
Playboy: You mock Fabio, too. O'Brien: If he sues me, it'll be the best thing that ever happened. A publicity bonanza: Courtroom sketches of Fabio with his man-boobs quivering, shaking his fist, and me shouting at him across the courtroom. I'm not afraid of Fabio. He knows where to find me. I'm saying it right here for the record: Fabio, let's get it on.
Playboy: Ever have a run-in with an angry celeb? O'Brien: I did a Kelsey Grammar joke a few years ago, something about his interesting lifestyle, then heard through the network that he was upset. He had appeared on my show and expected some support. At this point my intellect says, "Kelsey Grammar is a public figure. I was in the right." Then I saw him in an airport. Kelsey didn't see me at first: I could have kept walking. But there he was, eating a cruller in the airport lounge. I thought I should go over. I said hello and then said, "Kelsey, I'm sorry if I upset you." And he was glad. He looked relieved. He said, "Oh, that's OK." We both felt better.
....See my other post with the last third of the interview

I'm an undergrad right now (in the U.S & in a T25 university) and I am looking to apply to PhD programs right after (ie. Cell Biology and Physiology).
I'm worried mostly about my GPA as it's a 3.34 right now. The first semester I started college, my GPA was pretty bad, but it's been mostly uphill from there and now I make mostly A's.
Aside from that, I work in a research lab and have a lot of experience & am starting to work more independenly. I started working here last summer (summer of sophomore year). I also have a good relationship with my mentor and PI and feel like I can get really good LOR from them. I also wrote a 10 page research paper for a research class.
I hopefully will have a strong personal statement as I feel like I am a decently good writer. I'm also planning on looking into labs in the colleges I'm applying for and reaching out to the PI's.
Are there any tips so I could strengthen my application despite the lowish/average GPA?

61F.. 5'4, 150lbs.. do not drink, do not smoke, do not do drugs. Very active.. workout alot.. last few months been battling some bad fatigue.. currently docs are running lab work but nothing is showing up except mild sleep apnea. .. but my question today is regarding blood that appeared in my spit upon almost vomiting.
2nd time this has happened in the last few months although I don't recall if I had blood in my spit last time... but I had the same acute gas pain attack. This past Friday.. I was sitting have a cup of coffee when an acute attack of abdominal pain started. I went to the toilet thinking I had to move my bowels... but no bowel movement.. then acute pain started in my lower abdomen area.. below my belly button, or near there. I then felt like I was going to vomit.. and I started salivating.. and I was thinking "oh crap, I'm gonna puke". So I put my head down in the toilet and I started spitting.. like I was going to puke.. then I noticed red in my spit :( It was not solid red blood.. was not like "blood droplets".. but it was definitely red mixed with spit. I thought "oh sh***".. and spit into the sink and sure enough red spit. I took a picture. I ended up not throwing up.. but there was definite blood in my spit. Is that bad? I do have heartburn alot.. especially lately.. but I never thought much about it until this last episode. Thanks.

Electric Daisy Carnival (EDC) Las Vegas is a three-day music festival that features a variety of electronic dance music (EDM) artists. It’s a great chance to dance the night away and see some of your favorite DJs. But it’s important to remember that EDC is also a crowded and intense environment. To help you stay safe and have a great time, the Las Vegas personal injury lawyers Electric Daisy Carnival (EDC) Las Vegas is a three-day music festival that features a variety of electronic dance music (EDM) artists. It’s a great chance to dance the night away and see some of your favorite DJs. But it’s important to remember that EDC is also a crowded and intense environment. To help you stay safe and have a great time, the Las Vegas personal injury lawyers here at ER Injury Attorneys have put together five important EDC safety tips:

1. Plan Ahead

Get your tickets ASAP. EDC tickets tend to sell out quickly, so be sure to get yours early. This will help you avoid the stress of trying to find last-minute tickets.
Book your accommodations early. EDC is a major event in Las Vegas, so hotels tend to fill up quickly and rates can go up. Book your accommodations early to ensure you have a place to stay and get the best possible rate.
Research the festival grounds. The EDC venue is massive, so it’s a good idea to familiarize yourself with the layout before you go. This will help you save time finding the stages, restrooms, and other amenities.
Create a meeting spot. With so many people at EDC, it’s easy to get separated from your friends. Create a meeting spot in case you get lost and are without cell service.

2. Stay Hydrated

Drink plenty of water. It’s important to stay hydrated at EDC, especially in the hot Las Vegas sun. Bring a refillable water bottle and fill it up often. There are also water stations located throughout the festival grounds.
Avoid sugary drinks and alcohol. Sugary drinks and alcohol can dehydrate you. Stick to water, drinks with electrolytes, or use your own hydration additives. If you do choose to drink alcohol, do so in moderation and be sure to eat food as well and stay hydrated.

3. Pace Yourself

Don’t try to do too much. There’s a lot to see and do at EDC, but it’s important to pace yourself. Don’t try to see every single set or dance all night long. Take breaks throughout the day to rest and cool off.
Find a shady spot. If you start to feel overwhelmed, find a shady spot to relax and cool off. This will help you avoid heat illness which can be fatal. There are usually tents and hydration stations set up throughout the festival grounds that you can use for shade.

4. Be Aware of Your Surroundings

Keep an eye on your belongings. EDC is a crowded environment, so it’s important to keep an eye on your belongings. Don’t bring anything you can’t afford to lose.
Be aware of your surroundings. Be aware of the people around you and be careful of pickpockets. If you see something suspicious, report it to security.
Use the buddy system. Go to EDC with a group of friends and look out for each other.

5. Dress for the Weather

Wear comfortable shoes. You’ll be doing a lot of walking and dancing at EDC, so be sure to wear comfortable, safe shoes.
Wear sunscreen. Even if it’s cloudy, the sun’s rays can still be strong. Be sure to wear sunscreen to protect yourself from sunburn.
Bring layers. The weather in Las Vegas can change quickly, so it’s a good idea to bring layers of clothing. The current forecast calls for temperatures in the 90s during the day, but may dip into the 60s at night.

Injured During EDC? ER Injury Attorneys Is Here for You

If you’ve been injured at EDC, the team here at ER Injury Attorneys is available to assist you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Get your free case evaluation today by calling us at [702-878-7878](tel:7028787878) or by using LiveChat. You can also fill out a contact form to get started. ER Injury Attorneys represents accident victims throughout Southern Nevada, including Henderson, Summerlin, Pahrump, Boulder City, Laughlin, and beyond. Book your free case evaluation and consultation today and get the peace of mind you need.

The information on this blog is for informational purposes only. It is not meant to serve as legal advice for an individual case or situation. This information is not intended to create an attorney-client relationship nor does viewing this material constitute an attorney-client relationship.

BOOKMARK THE PERMALINK.here at ER Injury Attorneys have put together five important EDC safety tips:

1. Plan Ahead

Get your tickets ASAP. EDC tickets tend to sell out quickly, so be sure to get yours early. This will help you avoid the stress of trying to find last-minute tickets.
Book your accommodations early. EDC is a major event in Las Vegas, so hotels tend to fill up quickly and rates can go up. Book your accommodations early to ensure you have a place to stay and get the best possible rate.
Research the festival grounds. The EDC venue is massive, so it’s a good idea to familiarize yourself with the layout before you go. This will help you save time finding the stages, restrooms, and other amenities.
Create a meeting spot. With so many people at EDC, it’s easy to get separated from your friends. Create a meeting spot in case you get lost and are without cell service.

2. Stay Hydrated

Drink plenty of water. It’s important to stay hydrated at EDC, especially in the hot Las Vegas sun. Bring a refillable water bottle and fill it up often. There are also water stations located throughout the festival grounds.
Avoid sugary drinks and alcohol. Sugary drinks and alcohol can dehydrate you. Stick to water, drinks with electrolytes, or use your own hydration additives. If you do choose to drink alcohol, do so in moderation and be sure to eat food as well and stay hydrated.

3. Pace Yourself

Don’t try to do too much. There’s a lot to see and do at EDC, but it’s important to pace yourself. Don’t try to see every single set or dance all night long. Take breaks throughout the day to rest and cool off.
Find a shady spot. If you start to feel overwhelmed, find a shady spot to relax and cool off. This will help you avoid heat illness which can be fatal. There are usually tents and hydration stations set up throughout the festival grounds that you can use for shade.

4. Be Aware of Your Surroundings

Keep an eye on your belongings. EDC is a crowded environment, so it’s important to keep an eye on your belongings. Don’t bring anything you can’t afford to lose.
Be aware of your surroundings. Be aware of the people around you and be careful of pickpockets. If you see something suspicious, report it to security.
Use the buddy system. Go to EDC with a group of friends and look out for each other.

5. Dress for the Weather

Wear comfortable shoes. You’ll be doing a lot of walking and dancing at EDC, so be sure to wear comfortable, safe shoes.
Wear sunscreen. Even if it’s cloudy, the sun’s rays can still be strong. Be sure to wear sunscreen to protect yourself from sunburn.
Bring layers. The weather in Las Vegas can change quickly, so it’s a good idea to bring layers of clothing. The current forecast calls for temperatures in the 90s during the day, but may dip into the 60s at night.

Injured During EDC? ER Injury Attorneys Is Here for You

If you’ve been injured at EDC, the team here at ER Injury Attorneys is available to assist you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Get your free case evaluation today by calling us at [702-878-7878](tel:7028787878) or by using LiveChat. You can also fill out a contact form to get started. ER Injury Attorneys represents accident victims throughout Southern Nevada, including Henderson, Summerlin, Pahrump, Boulder City, Laughlin, and beyond. Book your free case evaluation and consultation today and get the peace of mind you need.

The information on this blog is for informational purposes only. It is not meant to serve as legal advice for an individual case or situation. This information is not intended to create an attorney-client relationship nor does viewing this material constitute an attorney-client relationship.

Abstract Asprosin (ASP) is a newly-identified adipokine and plays important roles in energy metabolism homeostasis. However, there is no report on whether and how ASP is involved in the pathogenesis of nonalcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD). Therefore, in the study, we investigated the protective effects of ASP-deficiency on the liver in the NAFLD model mice and the detrimental effects of ASP treatment on the human normal hepatocytes (LO2 cell line). More important, we explored the underlying mechanism from the perspective of lipid metabolism and inflammation. In the in vivo experiments, our data showed that the ASP-deficiency significantly alleviated the high-fat diet-induced inflammation and NAFLD, inhibited the hepatic fat deposition and downregulated the expressions of fat acid synthase (FASN), peroxisome proliferator-activated receptor γ (PPARγ) and forkhead box protein O1 (FOXO1); moreover, the ASP-deficiency attenuated the inflammatory state and inhibited the activation of the IKK/NF-κBp65 inflammation pathway. In the in vitro experiments, our results revealed that ASP treatment caused and even exacerbated the injury of LO2 cells induced by FFA; In contrast, the ASP treatment upregulated the expressions of PPARγ, FOXO1, FASN, ACC and acyl-CoA oxidase 1 (ACOX1) and elevated the reactive oxygen species (ROS) levels. Accordingly, these results demonstrate that ASP causes NAFLD through disrupting lipid metabolism and promoting the inflammation mediated by ROS.

Exfiltration

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[First] [Previous] [Next]
Mik
“Papa Juliet calling Mike Whiskey. I’m in. Guy says she’s in room one-zero-three-eight, do you copy?”
“I copy one zero three eight,” Mik replied quietly. She looked up at the room numbers and noted that she was at least on the correct floor. “Going there now, over.”
It was a good thing that even evil corporate secret facilities had their safety procedures. As she jogged along the corridor in what she thought was the right direction, she spotted an evacuation map of the facility, complete with room numbers. Studying the plan for a moment, she traced out a path, memorised it, then took off running.
Although people fresh from Earth often complained how hard it was to maintain a good running speed on Mars due to lack of traction, Mik had no such problems indoors. The floors weren’t the best for cornering on, but she saw no issue in running halfway up the wall to kick off in the direction she wanted to go. Her enhanced vestibular systems aided considerably in keeping her balance, no matter where her feet were placed at the time.
Now that she knew where she was going, she reached the corridor that she needed in less than a minute. But then she encountered something that wasn’t a barrier as such, but certainly caused her to think twice about what was going on.
At first glance, there was little to worry about. What she’d found was an airlock of a make and model ubiquitous to half the buildings on Mars. Given that the outside atmosphere of Mars could only be survived by one person currently on the surface of the planet, the presence of an airlock would normally have been easy to explain away as an essential safety precaution.
What gave Mik pause was the fact that the airlock was inside the building, and in fact was between her and the person she was here to rescue. This made her ask herself a very specific question:
Which side of this airlock is expected to be depressurised, and why?
There was only one logical answer, and it did nothing for her peace of mind. If she was reading the signs correctly, the person behind Dani’s abduction and subsequent imprisonment was willing to set up a lethal situation for their captive, as a last-ditch screw-you to Mik. They probably wouldn’t kill her immediately, but if Mik tried to get her out, it would go from zero to fatal in very little time indeed. And in fact, if the airlock was code-locked on the other side, it would also serve to lock Mik into the area, allowing Cyberon to simply walk in and scoop her up at their leisure.
If I keep going, I’ll be trapped and she dies no matter what. Cyberon security’s probably on the way, so Pete might not be able to get us both out in time. If we pull back, they might decide she’s no use as bait, and kill her anyway. Bad end, do not want.
Okay, so I’ve seen the trap. How do I turn it around?
*****
Dani
The cell was cold, the floor hard to sleep on, and the ration bars they’d been feeding her tasted like salted sawdust, but that wasn’t the worst part. Dani had been uncomfortable before; some of the places her father had worked had lacked many civilised creature comforts. But she’d had friendly company and she’d been able to keep track of what was going on in the larger world.
Here, she had neither.
She wasn’t sure if it was deliberate torture or just a total lack of caring about her wellbeing, but the lighting outside the Perspex panel that fronted her cell never varied. Neither dim nor overbright, it was just constant. They’d taken her watch at the same time as they’d sequestered the rest of her belongings and shoved her into an anonymous coverall, so she had no way of keeping track of time, except by way of her biological rhythms and the delivery of the food rations (which in itself was worryingly irregular, like they kept forgetting that she needed to eat).
Even the Suit, as she called him (she didn’t have a name for him, but she had a huge number of highly unflattering descriptors for him) hadn’t shown up in some time. At first, she’d been able to mark off the days in her mind by his visits, either gloating over how Mik was going to walk straight into his trap or attempting to interrogate her about Mik’s habits and potential actions. She’d done her best to give him no joy either way, which in hindsight was possibly a mistake, as he didn’t visit at all these days.
All she got was a guy walking past the cell every few hours and glancing in to make sure she hadn’t miraculously dismantled the lock and spirited herself out of the building. They didn’t talk to her, even when she called out and tried to open lines of communication. She knew they could hear her, but their faces just closed off and they walked on.
It had been days, maybe weeks, she was sure of that much. A month, even two? She couldn’t be sure. A couple of times she dreamed she’d been rescued, that the wall of the cell had just opened up and she’d walked out; the emotional crashes, when she woke and discovered the reality of the situation, had been devastating. Pretty soon, she figured, she’d be hallucinating even when she was awake, and it just wouldn’t matter anymore.
So, when she saw Mik herself step into view in front of the cell, wearing her usual t-shirt and jeans and heavy boots, along with a badass-looking long-coat, she didn’t even react at first. Either it was someone else and her eyes were playing tricks on her, or she was asleep and dreaming the whole thing, or her mind had finally cracked. Didn’t matter; Mik wasn’t there.
She waited for the apparition of her friend to morph into one of the guards or to evaporate altogether, or maybe rip the door off its runners, but none of that happened. Instead, Mik examined the lock and frowned. Then she pulled out a notebook and pencil—pens had a really hard time working in vacuum, so Mik always went old-school when it came to passing notes—and scribbled something.
Dani had never been able to read a damn thing in a dream. The words and letters always came jumbled up, probably because reading was a logical thing and dreams were by their nature illogical. So, she was fully prepared for whatever the note showed to be pure gibberish.
Instead, to her surprise, it was totally readable. NO AIR OUT HERE. NEED U TO PREP FOR DECOMPRESS, CLOSE EYES. WILL OPEN DOOR, GET U OUT. DO U TRUST ME?
She read it through several times, trying to make sense of it. Mik was still standing there, waiting, though she’d glanced from side to side a couple of times. The writing on the notepad was holding steady, not changing to something else.
Is this real? Is this actually happening?
Tears sprang to her eyes as she first began to allow herself to consider the concept. She tried to keep herself under control; every other time she’d believed she was getting out, her expectations had been cruelly dashed. But she could read the note. She could read the note.
Climbing painfully to her feet—there was little chance for exercise in the cell, and the nutrient bars didn’t leave her with much in the way of excess energy—she went over to the Perspex panel that served as a door. “Are you real?” she asked, putting her hand on the panel. “Are you really there?”
Mik nodded, then flipped a page and scribbled some more. IM REAL. IM GETTING U OUT OF THERE. DO U TRUST ME? Then she tore the page from the pad and dropped it.
Instead of fluttering lazily to the ground—under Martian gravity, it always took even longer than it did on Earth—it fell straight down, at the standard three point seven one metres per second per second.
Okay, that’s not something a hallucination would bring up. There’s only Martian air pressure out there. She’d had dreams of walking unprotected on the surface of Mars. The human brain couldn’t create the consequences of low air pressure out of whole cloth. That was a leap of logic that it couldn’t make.
Dani took a deep breath and nodded. “I trust you,” she said, aware that Mik was practised at reading lips. “I just don’t know how long I can go without air.” Attempting to hold one’s breath in vacuum or near-vacuum, she knew, was a recipe for ruptured lungs. “Should I hyperventilate?”
Instead of writing more notes, Mik made the hand gesture for ‘no time’, then pointed at her first note. Dani nodded, then stepped back. Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth, working her jaw to allow her ear canals to connect to her sinus cavities.
She heard it when the door began to open, the thin high screech of escaping air, deepening to a rumble as the air pressure dropped. Her ears popped, then popped again as she kept working her jaw. Air flowed out of her lungs, then an involuntary belch joined it.
Her skin prickled and her eyes were uncomfortable behind her tightly closed eyelids, but she didn’t dare open them. Micro-pressure did nasty things to exposed eyeballs; they didn’t pop (that was something even the stupidest of space dramas didn’t do anymore), but the sheen of tears on the exterior surface had been known to freeze or evaporate, neither of which was good for the eye.
Pressure was building unpleasantly in her gut, and she did her best to relax her sphincters. Another burp was followed by a small frrrt, and she silently blessed the fact that the nutrient bars were designed for vacuum workers, who didn’t want to share their EVA suits with abdominal gases.
And then a mouthpiece was pressed over her face, and air flowed into her lungs. Reaching up, she grabbed the pony bottle, amazed that she’d actually forgotten how Mik carried it everywhere. Once she had it, Mik let go and grabbed her arm, urging her forward.
Under the guidance of her friend, she stumbled out of the cell then turned left. They moved as fast as she was able, though she had to keep her eyes closed. How Mik had even gotten there, and what the plan was to get her out, she wasn’t sure, but she trusted Mik implicitly.
They went down the length of one corridor and then another one, much farther than she would’ve been able to go with her eyes closed and no air. Alone, she would’ve stumbled aimlessly until she died. Then they entered what she figured was an airlock, the supposition borne out when a door closed behind them and the air pressure started rising again.
When she felt it was safe, she opened her eyes and handed the pony bottle back to Mik. “Th-thanks,” she rasped, her voice rusty from disuse. “You came back. I didn’t know if you would.”
“It’s been a month, let me tell you,” Mik said lightly. “I had to get reinforcements, but here I am.”
Something clanked at floor level, and Dani looked down to see that Mik had just knocked over a bucket. “Okay,” she asked. “What’s a bucket doing in an airlock?”
“Holding the inner door open so nobody can remotely shut it behind me,” Mik explained. The other airlock door opened, and she stepped out. “C’mon, we’ve got places to be.”
Dani followed along. Her joints still felt creaky and stiff, but she was damned if she was going to slow Mik down now. “Where’d you go for reinforcements? Tharsis? Wouldn’t they just send stern memos to Cyberon or something?”
“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t go to them.” As Mik and Dani turned a corner, Dani saw two of the guards on the ground, along with a third one in an EVA suit, and a fourth person in an EVA suit standing over them with a metal bar in his hand. “Hey, we’re ready to suit up and go.”
The standing man flipped up his faceplate. “Good. The suit’s just outside. I’ll keep watching these clowns while you go get it.”
“On it.” Mik tipped Dani a wink, then ducked out through the airlock. A moment later, she was back, bringing a suit in Dani’s size.
“I was wondering how you were going to get me out of here.” Dani didn’t waste time, starting to haul on the suit even as she addressed Mik. She didn’t know the guy, but if Mik trusted him, she was willing to as well.
“It was either this or terraform the whole planet so you could just walk out normally, and terraforming was taking too long.” Mik eyed the guards unfavourably. “How badly were these assholes treating you?”
“They didn’t hit me or anything,” Dani said. “Just fed me and watched me. It was their boss who said all the nasty stuff about how you were gonna fall in his trap.”
“Mm.” Mik looked like she didn’t want to drop the matter, but the guy put his hand on her shoulder and she subsided. “Okay, then. Ready to go?”
“Nearly.” Dani locked her helmet in place, then triggered the oxygen flow. The telltales showed up green, so she nodded and gave the thumb-to-forefinger all-good gesture.
The guy with Mik flipped down his faceplate, and all three of them stepped into the airlock. It was a tight squeeze but Mik was skinny, and Dani didn’t take up much room even in a suit. “We’re going to have to move fast,” the guy said over her radio. “I have a feeling Cyberon security is incoming with everything they’ve got.”
“Yeah, no crap.” That was definitely Mik. “Just by the way: Pete, meet Dani; Dani, meet Pete.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Pete added. “Lieutenant Pete Janssen, Orbital Rescue, at your service.”
Even while Dani was trying to figure out what an Orbital Rescue pilot was doing on the surface of Mars, the airlock opened and they hustled out. The surrounding terrain was the very opposite of flat, and Dani had no idea which way to go. And then Mik’s eyes opened wide and she turned her head, looking up into the sky.
“Lander,” she said. “I can hear it coming in.”
Dani had very little experience with matters like this, but she had an idea what was coming next anyway. “They’ll be bringing in ground troops, won’t they? Looking for us?”
“Got it in one.” Mik started off into the rocks. “We have to get to the ’hopper before they catch up with us.”
“Copy that, princess.” Pete hooked one arm under Dani’s. “Let’s get moving.”
Dani had thought the nightmare was over but as she discovered, it was just beginning. Even with Pete and Mik helping her up and over the obstacles in their way, she quickly ran out of energy. Fear-generated adrenaline was well and good, but it had its limits, and her arms and legs were soon powerless noodles.
“Leave me,” she begged. “They’ll catch you, and this’ll all be for nothing.”
“And if we leave you, it’ll also be for nothing,” Mik told her grimly. “I had to do it once. It’s not happening a second time.”
“Take her,” Pete said. “I’ll go and draw them off. Even if they catch me—”
Mik cut him off. “If they can’t use you to get us back, they’ll kill you. You take her, you’re stronger than me. If they’ve got guns, which I’m pretty sure they do, they’re less likely to shoot at me than you. I’ll meet you at the ’hopper.”
Not giving Pete the option to argue, she let go Dani’s arm and vanished into the chaotic terrain.
“Wait—” began Pete, then swore. “Dammit! Okay fine, she’s not giving us a choice. Let’s get you to the ’hopper.”
As they moved off, Dani had to ask the question. “Why did you call her princess, earlier?”
“Well, she’d just told us her story, and I made a joke …”
*****
Mik
The security troopers were good at moving in EVA suits, and they definitely had guns. There were also a lot of them, which was going to make this tricky as hell. Still, Mik had a few advantages on her side, some of which they hopefully didn’t know about.
She peered around a rocky outcrop at a bunch of them, who were conferring over some kind of digital map. If they wanted to use that thing to make any kind of straight path through this labyrinth of Martian terrain, they had to be dreaming. The trouble was, if they just pushed forward en masse, they could comb every last hiding place, no matter how tricky she was. Which was why she had to pull them away from the ‘logical thinking’ mindset and into the ‘chase me’ mindset.
Picking up a friable-looking rock, she stepped into view, then hurled her missile directly at the faceplate of one of the troopers facing her. It burst on impact, leaving a cloud of dust behind. Before they could bring their guns to bear, she ducked out of sight again, heading down a twisting, turning alleyway of rock. Her natural agility and balance made up for the uneven footing, allowing her to move much faster than the troopers behind her.
The call would be going out now, converging every security trooper in the area on that spot. This included any of them that might’ve been on course to discover the rille where she and Pete had hidden the rock-hopper. If they were chasing her, they weren’t going after anyone else.
She paused after a minute or so of movement, listening hard and with her hands on the rocks on either side. Sound didn’t travel well in this atmosphere, though her ears were attuned to pick up what little there was. Vibrations through the ground were sometimes more useful, and she fancied she could feel the security troops coming her way, just as much as she could hear the scuffing and stumbling among the chaotically tumbled boulders.
The next time she nailed someone in the faceplate with a rock, one of the troopers shot at her. It didn’t come close enough to worry her, though the whole experience of being shot at in general was a new and unpleasant one. She got her target, though, dusting the man plus his comrades with the ever-present fines. The fewer of her pursuers who could see properly, the better.
And then Pete’s voice crackled in her mastoid earpiece. “We’re at the ’hopper. Want a pickup?”
“No, don’t,” she replied, talking quietly into the mouthpiece even though she knew the troopers couldn’t hear her. “They’ll shoot you out of the sky. Hold tight, I’m coming to you.”
A dozen troopers looked around in surprise as she jumped out of concealment almost within arm’s reach. She was holding two large rocks that she’d selected carefully, each one with the consistency of chalk. Both left her hands even before her feet hit the ground; not aimed at the troopers, they instead hit the rocks on either side. A great cloud of fines billowed over all of the troopers, but she wasn’t waiting around for it to dissipate.
There was a nice straight pathway for her to retreat down, but she didn’t take it. Instead, she ducked into the first niche she found that was barely large enough to take her, and flipped up the hood of the long-coat so that it covered her head. Thus concealed, facing the rock and holding still, she hopefully looked like part of the landscape.
She both heard and felt the rush of booted feet behind her; yelling inside their helmets so loudly that she heard that too. Thirty seconds ticked by in her head, and there were no stragglers following along. Cautiously, she peered out from behind the coat. She was alone.
By now there would be enough troopers spread through the chaotic terrain for false sightings to be happening on the regular, and in fact she heard a few random shots here and there which bore out that idea. But that wasn’t her problem, so she slipped unseen through the dragnet until she came to the rille. Jumping from foothold to foothold, she descended to where Pete and Dani were just getting settled on the rock-hopper.
“Oh, good,” Pete said. “You’re here. I was starting to worry.”
“Can we go now?” asked Dani plaintively. “I just want to get out of here.”
“We can,” Mik confirmed, scrambling up onto the rock-hopper and strapping herself into the middle seat, which had been installed by the crusty McPherson. She flicked the wake-up switch on the flight control computer (also supplied by McPherson), then activated the controls and lit off the attitude rockets. Slowly, then with more power as she fed fuel to the main rocket, the rock-hopper climbed into the air.
“Straight back up to the ship?” asked Pete hopefully.
“Not quite,” Mik said. “They’ve almost certainly got ships up there that can shoot us down if they see us coming up out of their area of interest, so we’re going to have to stay low for the moment until we get out from under their umbrella. Our best chance for doing that is to leave their turf altogether.”
Angling the rock-hopper eastward, she applied more thrust, and they shot away across the tumbled landscape.
[First] [Previous] [Next]
[A/N: And we’re coming to a head. The next chapter or two should see the end of this run of the adventures of Mik Wallace, Martian Walker. That’s not to say it’ll be the end of the story, but it’ll be the end of the origin story.]

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Well i've already been typed as infp 6w7 but I've recently been pondering whether it's really something that fits me so I wanted to get other people's opinions on my typing.
• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
— I'm 19 years old and identify as non-binary (he/they pronouns). I am extremely extra, I am eccentric, I love alternative styles, I love arts in all its forms, I am extremely sentimental, I can be considered strange to many, I talk too much, I seem extroverted around introverts and I seem introverted around other extroverts, I get tired easily in social situations, so I always prefer to talk more via cell phone or computer. I'm very extreme and I can end up feeling very angry, very happy or very sad out of nowhere, I usually try to be kind but I can be rude or insensitive if I'm very angry, I'm a person who really likes to fight for causes aimed at minorities since I'm from several minority groups, I hate injustice, I'm very stubborn and I don't like being contradicted while I always try to be someone who takes various arguments into account.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
— I'm autistic, adhd, i have gad (generalized anxiety disorder) and i might also have depression.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
— I grew up in a Christian family, which hurt me a lot when I got older since my family's religion is against my existence as a queer person, and it took them a long time to admit that I needed psychological help and things like that. It's difficult to leave my roots but in the end I ended up stopping believing in my parents' religion after everything I went through.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
— I'm studying animation design at college, it's one of my passions and I really enjoy learning about the topics, I just hate the structure of taking exams and tests.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
— I would feel crazy, insane. I need the company of some people close to me to regulate myself and talk about things I like, being alone makes me feel empty and strange. So yeah i would feel lonely.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
— I'm terrible at sports and I hate them, my motor coordination is horrible. I prefer indoor activities because there is less chance of me overloading myself with something (example: feeling unwell because of the sun, heat, etc.)
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
— I'm very curious, I love discovering new things, I have a lot of ideas at terrible times (in the middle of the night) and I really end up getting disorganized with the amount of things I think about. My ideas and curiosity are generally focused on creative processes like creating characters, universes, stories, but it can also simply be focused on a topic of interest to me (hyperfocuses / special interests). These are things that end up being more of a concept because I'm terrible at executing my ideas.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
— I don't like being the leader of projects and things like that for the simple fact that I'm not good at handling responsibilities, so I prefer to just execute some order, my problem is that I also really like doing things MY way so it's a bit contradictory. However, in the moments when I have had to be a leader (I was forced to since my colleagues didn't want to do anything) I haven't been a bad leader, I research the project topics and let people choose their topics to present.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
— I'm not good at being organized or at things that involve motor coordination. For example, it took me decades to be able to tie my shoe laces, know which direction is right or left and I keep forgetting important dates. I don't like using my hands to do activities because they shake a lot and so I'm always horrible at things that involve using my hands. The only things I think I'm good at are playing games and drawing, and even then, drawing is an extreme challenge since I always put a lot of pressure on the pencil when I'm drawing or writing.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
— Yes, art is something that I have loved since I was young because of the fact that I can express my creativity, ideas and feelings. I've always been passionate about cartoons so my drawing style is very cartoony. I really like seeing fanart from media that I love, but I also love seeing old paintings, especially from Roman and Greek times. I not only like drawing and painting, but I also love art in general. I love cinema, theater, books, sculptures, etc. One day I want to know how to write very well and be able to make books or even draw well enough to be able to make a cartoon. I want to be able to share the comfort I experience by seeing art that makes me feel happy and represented by doing something that also makes people happy through my art.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
— I have some regrets from the past, but in general I was more "normal" and happy back then, I wouldn't change anything because I follow the idea that my mistakes and successes made me who I am today. As for my present, I try to make the most of it but I'm not going to lie that I'm not a big fan of my current state, I feel a bit useless and very behind compared to most people I know my age so I end up preferring to think more about the future and how things will get better later. At the same time that I really appreciate some current moments of my present, like being able to play with my girlfriend most days, this makes me very happy.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
— I like helping people, sometimes I even try to help people who didn't ask for my help if they are people I really like (I may end up being seen as inconvenient because of this). I always want to be able to help everyone, but currently because of my mood I may end up not being very helpful as my mental health is not the best, even so, I always try to be very patient and friendly with people who are going through difficult times, even when sometimes I just want to be left alone and I'm not in the mood to help anyone, especially because I know what it's like to be in a bad place and i don't want people to feel rejected.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
— I'm very sentimental and I often don't think very logically BUT in arguments and other serious situations I need people to use logic and proven arguments just like i do in those situations so that the debate or serious situation isn't just a bunch of nonsense. I am a sentimental person, but to develop some thought, I need logical arguments
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
— In general, I think it's very important, but I personally can't be productive and efficient since I have a lot of executive dysfunction. I KNOW it's important but I can't be like that.
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
— I like things to be my way but I don't really think I control people? I always impose my opinions a lot but I don't really control people.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
— I like games, reading books, role-playing, drawing and even trying to write books. I really like fantasy things. It seems more fun than my reality and I like to distract myself from real life things.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
— I like learning things when they involve what I like or at least are more interactive and I hate math, chemistry and physics btw. I have a lot of difficulty with classes in subjects that require a lot of memorization, I prefer things that are relative and interpretative like arts and literature and I really like classes that involve creativity. I also hate classes where the teacher just talks and talks and talks and doesn't do anything interactive and fun. I generally prefer to study at home for very short periods of time because I learn easier alone and study very briefly because I have difficulty studying for long periods of time.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
— I'm terrible at planning things, I usually do things at the last minute and I improvise a lot.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
— I think I get a lot of inspiration from artists I like, such as Rebecca Sugar, Tyler Joseph and others. They are very creative people who do things that I really like (I love Steven Universe, which Rebecca Sugar created, and I love Twenty One Pilots, which is the band where Tyler Joseph is the lead singer).
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
— My biggest fears are being alone, because it's scary not having anyone who understands you and who supports you and loves you, and being a burden to the people I love, because I don't want to be an extremely dependent and useless person and disappoint the people I love.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
— These are the days when I feel excited to do things and I can be productive doing everything I need in my routine as well as doing my hobbies and being able to relax.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
— These are the days when I feel sad, empty and discouraged, I can't do my routine tasks and I force myself to do them anyway in an extremely bad mood, my hobbies may even distract me on those days but it will be a strange feeling as if I'm not really excited to do what I like and I'm just distracting myself from my problems.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
— Ah, I don't have much attachment to reality and I prefer fantasy things, I constantly get caught up in my own thoughts and I prefer to create happy fantasy situations so I don't deal with my real problems. I'm also pretty distracted in general so regardless of whether I'm fantasizing or not I end up missing a lot of details and dissociating
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
— I would probably try to distract myself by thinking about things I like or talking to myself, depending on if the day was bad I would eventually end up thinking a lot about my personal problems and becoming depressed.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
— I'm very slow and indecisive when it comes to choosing things, I always want to gather as much information about each option in my mind or by researching on the internet about it and then I always end up between multiple options and changing my mind several times until I arrive at a concrete result.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
— Some of my emotions may be processed much later than they should have been processed or simply be different from what people usually have. For example, I'm not very good at dealing with grief and I end up not showing the sadness that my other relatives do, but generally I feel my emotions in a very extreme and volatile way. I feel happy for very silly things and when I'm happy I'm VERY HAPPY and I get sad very easily and when I get sad I get VERY SAD.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
— Yes. I really like demonstrating my opinions and being authentic, it's a very important thing for me, but even so, I sometimes end up just remaining silent or agreeing with something that I don't really agree with because I'm too afraid of being hated and I generally want everyone to like me, even people I'm not very close to. However, I can also be a person with very strong opinions and be very stubborn about what I believe in if it is something linked to social issues or linked to things that I REALLY like.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
— I break rules that I believe don't make sense, if it's something that I think makes sense I'll follow that rule, but if it's stupid and I don't understand why I have to follow it I'll probably break the rule. I've also never been a person who understands authorities, for me anyone has the right to question something if it's not a useful or logical rule. I agree that rules are important but that they can be adapted, eliminated and added if necessary for people.

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