I was at a work day out and in the evening there was quite a bit of drinking. So people seemed to think it was the right time to voice their bigoted, phobic and sexually derogatory speech about other colleagues in the smaller circle I was standing in. I was really shocked to hear this guy saying such things, especially knowing they’re in a more senior role. I guess they don’t know I’m queer and probably thought I was just one of the “lads” indulging him. Others in the group just looked really uncomfortable and did some nervous laughing, but no one challenged him. I wanted to really respond but it was so unexpected and shocking I was tongue tied and just walked away. I’m fairly new in the department, so not many people know me personally and I’m still feeling if I feel comfortable to reveal more about me there. But I also feel ashamed because need to be in their good graces for my career, so my walking away probably wasn’t registered by this cretin as me disagreeing.
Has anyone been in this situation? How can you respond to this sort of speech? I want to be better prepared for the future because I still need to interact with this person at work but I’m going to be much more cautious around him and not seek him out at work events. I appreciate any advice, thanks!

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Thus, wounded, and less victorious than they might have preferred, but victorious nonetheless, the royal three returned to the Macedonian capital. The army returned to Philopolis in triumph, the trio at their head. Leonidas on a replacement for his slain mare, Cassandra astride a titanic black stallion which was exclusively used for parades, and Seramis in her full diluvian glory. Cassandra might have been disappointed that the battle hadn’t been as decisive as she preferred, but she wasn’t about to miss an opportunity for propaganda.
So the group returned to the cheers of their people, the cavalry shining in the summer sun, and the army marching in strict formation. Trumpets heralded their return. Banners flew from the corners of houses. The men sang bawdy songs, as is the tradition of soldiers. Not a spec of blood or rust nor dust was allowed, presenting the image of a spotless, unconquered army. It was all a magnificent production. It was all a lovely welcome home.
When Seramis had first seen Philopolis and Macedon, it had been a very different place. The realm had struck her as grey, very grey, and a place without much beauty. Then, under the rule of the wicked regent Tyndareus, it was a place of iron and blood, a totalitarian state dedicated primarily to a massive conscript army. The hills had been torn open by great pit mines for iron and copper. The forests had been cut down to fuel the fires of industry. The fields were endless, uniform masses of oats, grain, and hay, worked by uncounted slaves, or landless peasants just a bit better than slaves. Over it all, the ancient fortress of the Alexandrian dynasty had loomed as a great edifice; a leviathan of hewn stone and barred windows representing the absolute military power that held all of it in place.
Now, two years hence, it was more alike to how she had first found it than she would have preferred. But transforming a society was hardly a swift process, and the work done was already substantial. Once the place had been a land of iron and blood, and though industry remained, now the smell of olive oil, the sound of potters wheels, and the hawking of merchants filled the air. The monolithic collective farms had shattered into a patchwork quilt of small holdings. The men working them might still have brands, but they and the lands were their own.
Of course, there were still some great expanses of oats and wheat. Those were Cassandra’s lands. She’d been generous with the lands she’d confiscated from the nobility, and in turn with their wealth which now filled her treasury. But she hadn’t given up any of her own family’s territory, and had expanded them substantially. Something like a quarter of the land in the country was the Queen’s personal fief, and she managed it very carefully. The economies of scale she alone had access to provided much needed stability for staple food prices during the transition from a slave-based command economy to a citizen market economy. Beyond that, the lands also provided a substantial portion of government income.
Said income was further complimented by a wide-scale reform to the tax structure. Rather than outsourcing the work to tax farmers, or to any nobility, as that had been liquidated, taxes were collected from a variety of small, but inescapable requirements. The primary tax was simply the surplus tax, an in-kind tax taken from all production. Farmers gave a share of their produce, potters a certain number of pots for each produced, blacksmiths a certain number of finished goods, and so on and so forth. Only the merchants would return hard currency from the surplus tax, the rest a great cross-section of produced goods. These in turn went into great warehouses, which the government might release from to control prices, or sell abroad to bring in further profits. The majority of currency entering the coffers either came from selling such produce, Cassandra’s personal lands, or a variety of import and consumption taxes. No less than a tenth of the entire bureaucracy was funded by the consumption taxes on oil and salt.
Of course managing all this was a good lead more complicated, not least of which because Cassandra had liquidated the aristocracy. This required a rather extensive increase in the bureaucracy, which brought in quite the expense of its own. Overall revenue was vastly increased from the reign of Tyndareus, and indeed all former kings of Macedon. The problem was that expenses had increased in turn. Macdeon was a military stratocracy, and Cassandra was in the process of trying to reform that into a sort of enlightened bureaucratic autocracy. The amount spent on papyrus alone nearly rivaled the payments to the many new government servants, which were not cheap. Educated men and women, able to read, understand the laws, and understand mathematics were not common, and commanded higher prices.
Cassandra had responded both by working to increase the supply of educated citizens, and cut costs in other areas. Firstly, she enacted a massive increase in education, beginning with the orphans of Macedon’s many wars and educating them. Secondly, she had begun offering to pay for the education of the children of public servants as part of their compensation. This allowed her to cut down on salaries and ensure a future educated workforce. Third and finally, she had begun to subsidize educators throughout the kingdom, and begun work to gather and copy many books and tomes to further improve the kingdom’s educational outcomes. Unfortunately, this was work that would take years to bear fruit.
The second arm of this had been to cut costs in other areas, most notably the military. Under Tyndareus, the Macedonian army had grown to a terrifying, if bloated, leviathan. Between the use of conscription, and counting reserves, the former army could have raised nearly thirty thousand men under arms. Cassandra had slashed that, and abolished conscription for the regular army. After intensive cuts, purging Tyndareus’s loyalists, and serious reforms including the near complete reconstruction of the Macedonian Cavalry Corps, the Macedonian Army now numbered a mere nine thousand, with the ability to call upon a further ten thousand former soldiers, now spread out to create a variety of local militias.
Leonidas had taken charge of many of these reforms, bringing in military advisors from Marathon and Achaea. The young prince, in his role as Minister of War, set to work with vigor to refine the Macedonian army down to its purest and strongest form. His high standards might have earned him ire, if not for the personal virtue and discipline he showed to meet those standards. He demanded the best not only from himself and his soldiers, but even from his suppliers and quartermasters. Most of the Macedonian military exports were those arms and armor he found below standard, though many less discerning customers would gladly accept them.
More than simply focusing on the logistics, Leonidas sought to infuse in his army a certain esprit de corps and moral focus. He drew heavily on the legendary philosopher Aristotle, particularly regarding that philosopher’s education of Iskandar, the famed conqueror king who had defined Macedon for the past two centuries. Outside the direct military applications, the young prince kept an eye on the future, sponsoring the growth of sports leagues throughout the kingdom, particularly a great hunting association. The Hunter’s Guild was a particular passion project of his, and he worked tirelessly not only to cultivate skilled hunters to recruit for his scouts, but also to preserve what remained of Macedon’s wild lands, ensuring game populations remained stable, and dangerous animals were quickly eliminated. The prince’s skill at the hunt had even earned him the right to attend the games at Olympus, though it was his mastery of wrestling that had seen him returned crowned with the ultimate honor of the laurels.
Such participation with the rest of the Hellene world had been part of Sera’s work. The young dragonness had held no official position at first, as Cassandra worked to develop her talents. Seramis had loathed etiquette as taught as a set of rules to be followed, but Cassandra revealed their nature as tools and tricks as part of the great game of politics. Allowed to treat the illusion of statecraft as just that, Seramis thrived. Soon appointed as Minister of State, her talent for gathering information, forming schemes, and comprehending languages saw her unleashed as Macedon’s greatest diplomat. All the while, her true title was one that delighted her greatly. Master of Shadows, she wielded the diplomatic corps and her own personal stable of agents like a scythe, harvesting a hoard of secrets she feasted upon. They became as arrows in her quiver, aiding her as she stood alongside Cassandra to carefully guide the ship of state.
On a much less sinister note, Seramis had engaged in quite public work to revitalize Macedon’s stagnating cultural sphere. The dragoness was chiefly known not even as a diplomat, let alone a spymaster, but rather as a patron of the arts. She courted and drew playwrights, actors, bards, conductors, and composers from across the world, placing a great deal of personal effort into producing a cosmopolitan cultural sphere. Though diplomacy, culture, and her eternal scheming, she worked to put the sword of Iskandar in a flowered sheath, in hopes it would never need to be drawn.
The peak of her work in that regard was a mere week away, a grand festival of the arts such as had not been seen in Macedon before. It would be a great festival as if that of the Athenians, now long brought to ruin. For the first time since the wars of the Diadochi, Hellas would come together to celebrate the arts. Naturally, Macedon would be participating, represented by Sera’s own personal theater company: The Mount Ararat Company.
Seramis quickly moved through her remaining business for the day. She met with the Master of Investigations and also her deputy, who had been working to manage her department while she had departed on campaign. Pleasantries were exchanged, and reports given. There was little new, but there was confirmation that the Latins, a curious people from across the western sea, would come to attend the festival. This would have been of little concern, if not for how they were coming.
A long-standing problem of the western coast had been the pirates of Illyria. These seafaring brigands proved a routine nuisance for not only Hellene trade, but all throughout the seas. Achaea and Macedon had both extended offer to the king of Illyria to come and help remove the pirates, but had been rejected. However when the Latins offered, the king accepted. So, the Latins came in force, bringing with them a four mighty legions of men, and crushed the pirate havens by attacking from the land. The problem was, they didn’t leave. While three of the legions returned to Italia, the fourth remained to protect against the return of the pirates, and to protect their Illyrian allies from Achaean or Macedonian aggression.
This was already a provocative move, as the barbarian army now sat on Hellene soil, diplomatically shielded by the cowardly Illyrian king. However, now the Latins made a further move. They had informed the court at Macedon previously that they wished to send a delegation to observe the festival and improve relations. All this was well and good, and naturally they did request to send bodyguards to protect the delegates. This was agreed, but the unscrupulous Latins had interpreted the mention of bodyguards broadly, and deployed a third of the legion infantry as “bodyguards”. Seramis’s reports indicated that these were in fact the Triarii, the third and strongest line, composed of veterans. The remainder of the legion remained encamped alongside the Ilyrian-Macedonian border.
The presence of the legion was concerning, to say the least. It numbered some four thousand five hundred men, about the size of a Macedonian army. The Macedonians held a local advantage, as they maintained two armies. One was directed northwards, towards the barbarians, and the other towards the east, to ward off their Selucid rivals. So they outnumbered the legion present two to one. However, the problem arose with the Latin’s ability to deploy a further three legions, which would reverse that advantage. With aid from Marathon, the Hellenes could match the Latin’s numbers, and with Achaean aid, they would outnumber them. Unfortunately, the Latins had spent much of their recent war with the Phoenicians of Carthage demonstrating an ability to raise new forces frighteningly quickly. Sera’s analysis suggested that if they wished to, they might be able to triple the might of their armies to twelve legions. The sheer military mass of the Latins would be enough to equal all Hellas, but Hellas was still divided, and some, such as the Illyrians, preferred them as allies to their fellow Hellenes.
The simple arithmetic of war indicated that if the Latins wished to conquer Hellas, they probably could. The simple arithmetic of war neglected to account for the power of dragons. But, Sera had observed, it was rare to lose money betting on the arrogance and avarice of humans. The fortunate side of dealing with the Latins was that for all their military might, they had a peculiar custom. They were permitted by ancient law and religious principle from launching a war of aggression, and so only declared war when they or their allies were threatened. This iron law of ancient Roman kings aught to have kept their swords sheathed, but in practice it often meant that an ambitious man of that city would seek to provoke an attack or aggression, that they might have reason for war. This incident with the “bodyguards” was likely such an attempt at provocation by a glory hound.
So, the trio met, and considered how to deal with this. It was decided that they would monitor the Latins closely, and place forces in such a way that they could not be aggressive, but would certainly be ready. The Army of the North was still recuperating from their recent battle with the Scythians, and would remain on standby in the capital to respond to any moves from the Latins or Scythians. At the same time, the northern militias would be stood up, and reinforced by militias from the south. These southern reinforcements would travel along the roads that would place them directly between the two parts of the Roman Legion, ensuring that if hostilities began, the separated legion would be able to be dealt with in parts. Unfortunately, Leon was unable to deploy as many of his scouts to that region as he would prefer, and Sera’s own intelligence assets were likewise pointed northwards. Better to deal with the actively aggressive barbarians, and then the imminently aggressive ones.
So, it was with great care, and no small amount of tension, that the Latin delegates arrived, joined by some three hundred of their Triarii. This was the first that Sera had seen of the Latins, and her initial impressions were somewhat mixed. They moved with distinct discipline, and were in all senses quite well ordered. The Triarii were older, veteran soldiers, generally more in their thirties. As such, they were somewhat more moderate, and avoided the wicked behavior common to many young soldiers. However, this rendered them with an increased air of unmistakable danger. Be wary of old men, even relatively old ones, in professions where men die young, and particularly of a soldier without an obvious vice.
The leader of the Latin delegation introduced himself to the court with a somewhat imperious nature. It likely would have been more imperious had Seramis not taken on her true form. It is difficult, even for a roman, to remain arrogant when there is a fourteen-foot-tall (measured at the shoulder) dragoness looking down at you. He declared himself as Military Tribune Gaius Mummius, representing the Praetor Lucius Cornelius in command of the IV Legion. Though the head of the delegation, he was simply that by right of his military rank. The actual diplomacy was handled by diplomats, not soldiers, though by their attitudes, Seramis might have taken them for sergeants in fancy togas. However, one who did catch her interest was distinct among the delegation, an old man, and truly old, dressed as a seer. He remained close by the ear of Gaius, and the tribune heeded him. Sera watched him warily, for she smelled magic on him, an old magician, and that would be trouble.
Despite her concerns, the Latins did not cause trouble, not even their old magician. They established a small camp for themselves outside the walls of the city, and largely kept to themselves. They came into the city only in small groups based around some member of their number who spoke Greek. They paid with honest coin, and seemed intrigued by the preparations for the festival. They seemed unusually preoccupied with finding barbers, as they were each clean-shaven, in contrast to the bearded Hellenes. Leonidas found this utterly hilarious, as he had spent more time than he would ever admit trying to find ways of improving his own facial hair. Now that it had finally come in, he spent more time managing his admittedly impressive beard than he ever had dealing with his actual hair. Sera, lacking any hair whatsoever, found the human preoccupation with it utterly confusing.
Bearded or otherwise, Hellene, Latin, and miscellaneous others soon came to attend the great drama festival. The idea of cancelling was briefly considered, and summarily rejected. Continuing to have a great celebration in the face of Latin provocation and Scythian Assault showed not only the power of the kingdom, that its people could act without concern, but also its prestige through mastery of the arts. The fact that many of the participants in the festival were from elsewhere in Hellas was politely overlooked. After all, Macedon had gathered them, and thus got credit.
The festival went on for three days, and proved to be a generally joyous, if somewhat chaotic time. Even the dour Latins eventually became swept up in the atmosphere. While this wasn’t technically a Bacchanalian festival, mostly due to the fact that Bacchus was very dead, it certainly carried some of that legacy. Of course the highlight, at least for men who considered them cultured, was the great drama productions. All manner of productions were put on display, from great recreations of the Athenian classics, to new twists, foreign productions, historical plays, retellings of myths, and of course many a comedic tragedy and initially tragic comedy.
Seramis’s own company had three productions, set into place over three days. The first two were well known, and practiced. Sera’s company had begun expediting the revitalization of the cultural scene with regular performances. Some of these had been well-worn classics, but the Mount Ararat Company would bring none of these to this stage. Instead, they brought two original, but already tested plays, and one of excellent ambition.
The first was a Satire, in the style of The Clouds which Sera had dubbed Tartarus. This piece was set in the depths of the underworld, that darkest pit where wicked men and monsters alike were tormented. These tormented souls took on the role of the choir, being intensely irritated by the antics of the four main players. Those four were of course the three great Greek philosophers: Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, and their own tormentor; Diogenes. The play largely consisted of the main three wandering through Tartarus, further tormenting the tormented souls with long winded and pedantic arguments about the torments they witnessed. All the while, Diogenes routinely appeared to torment them in turn. The play as a whole made light of philosophies, and generally teased out the problems with focusing overmuch on the world of the mind while actual suffering could be addressed.
This play was well received, for it was humorous and mocked philosophers, which few people cared for. The humor wavered between high and low brow, with both clever jokes sprinkled in amongst the arguments of the philosophers, and cruder humor delivered by the tormented souls and Diogenes. A certain degree of slapstick was involved as well, often involving a great paper-Mache boulder being rolled by Sisyphus.
The second of Sera’s plays was a somewhat grander production, though was likewise satirical. It turned the classic play Oedipus Rex somewhat on its head with The Choir’s Apologia. The original play was an archetypical tragedy, following the story of Oedipus, son of the King of Thebes. Due to a prophecy, his father cast him out to be slain, but he would live, and later unknowingly slay his father, and wed his mother. The play detailed how the gods smote the city with a plague as a result of this kinslaying and incest. Oedipus sought the answer to this, and in doing so discovered the terrible truth, and blinded himself for shame.
The Choir’s Apologia put a twist on this, as the Choir itself determines to get involved. This broke their usual role as mere background singers, and saw them take the stage to try and prevent the tragedy. The play played out as usual, but regularly, the mortal actors would freeze in place before a great event. The Choir would then step to center stage, and petition the gods for redress. First they asked Apollo, bidding him not deliver the ruinous prophecy, for without it nothing would come, but he rejected them. Next they implored Hermes to warn Oedipus against his folly, but Hermes declared he was helpless before Zeus. Finally, the Choir dared to approach Zeus himself, demanding that he cease to punish all Thebes for Oedipus’s mistake.
This proved a failure in the end, as Zeus rebuked them and struck the choir down one by one. The message was clear, that the gods were cruel and arbitrary, delivering unjust judgements. They did what they would, for they were strong, and the choir suffered what it must, for it was weak. At last only Oedipus remained, able now to see Zeus and his murder of the choir. Oedipus and Zeus contested one another in song, and while Zeus struck down the king, it was not before the hero doomed by prophecy delivered a defense and a prophecy of his own. Oedipus defended his record as king of Thebes, how he had overthrown a tyrant, protected his people, improved their lives, and sought their good even at terrible cost to himself. He, the one the gods judged, had been a better ruler than the gods. If indeed the gods would persist in their arbitrary wickedness, then one day this would be their doom, for the world would not abide such tyrants. Zeus struck him down, but went in dread because of the prophecy.
This production produced some degree of controversy. It always had, and such was the intent. It was well understood that the gods were dead, and Olympus was silent, but this play indicated such was not a bad thing. Given it was written by a dragoness, a natural enemy of the gods, the take was not unexpected. Beyond this, its use of another play as a framing device gave it a rather meta feel, and some found it pretentious. Others, by contrast, found the reframing of a classic play refreshing, and enjoyed the novelty of the choir acting as a major character.
The third play was a new production, and meant to be the one to blow the sandals off the audience. It was a bigger, grander, and of much more spectacular production values. All of this was in theory. In practice, it was put on at the end of three days of performances and partying, and became more of a farce than an epic. The Davidiad told the story of the legendary Hebrew king David, of both his rise to power and fall from grace. It was told in three acts, and all three had some manner of disaster.
The first act told of the heroic youth of David before he was king, and how he defeated the giant Goliath. Goliath himself was a complicated costume made by having three already tall men standing on one another’s shoulders. When struck by a sling, he was to topple over onto his army, which would catch the performers and prevent any harm. Unfortunately, due to an earlier scene involving David being anointed with oil, there was a slick patch on stage. Goliath’s lower third slipped, and the towering giant fell flat on his face and collapsed into himself in the middle of a monologue. This was considered absolutely hilarious by the audience, and Seramis, upon seeing this, physically shrank from embarrassment.
The second act saw the conflict between the good future king David and the wicked king Saul. Saul was meant to begin more coherent, but gradually jealousy and fear would twist him into wickedness. Unfortunately, Saul’s actor had been out late, and showed up to the production very hung over. This made Saul’s descent far more predictable and robbed the second act of much of its drama. Unfortunately, the actor in question attempted to remedy this by using a hangover cure involving undiluted wine. This made him less hungover, and more drunk, so Saul went from being scowling and sickly to very obviously drunk. This became a minor peril during a later scene where Saul threw his spear at David. Not only did Saul miss, as intended, but he proceeded to hurl the (thankfully fake) spear into the audience, where it proceeded to hit a man in the chest. He was unharmed, but believed he had been slain and fainted, causing a minor panic.
The third act was nearly canceled, but went ahead anyways. The cursed production continued to be cursed, as a major set piece exploded earlier. The third act was meant to show how the throne gradually corrupted David, and led him to murder a man to cover up an affair with his wife Bethsheba. This would climax with the death of a son produced from that affair, and the collapse of a great temple edifice David had been constructing. The play would end with David weeping, but repentant, and turning to begin rebuilding the ruined temple, representing his disgraced morality. Instead of this, the temple collapsed immediately the moment David and Bethsheba locked eyes, which somewhat gave the game away.
Sera did not bother to see the audience’s reaction when the curtain closed. She’d already left from sheer embarrassment. She was helping the troupe pack up, so the lot of them could scatter to cope with this catastrophe in their own way. Once the curtain closed and the actors departed the stage, she handed Saul his last payment, a polite, if curt, farewell, and departed. She avoided the rest of the festival, marinating in her disappointment at the bottom of a nearby lake.
Eventually, evening did come, and Sera slunk her way back into the city. She spoke briefly with her troupe, congratulating them on the work they did, and laboring to encourage their spirits. The production of the Davidiad had gone horribly wrong, but these were technical and production errors, not fundamental flaws. They would try again, after taking time to rest, recover, and focus on building back up to such a grand production with greater skill and experience. Their reach had, quite simply, exceeded their grasp, and ruin had come because of hubris. They would recover from this, and move forwards.
Much as she managed the speech, she felt like she was having to put on her own performance to manage that. Privately, the failure on such a massive stage hung over the young dragoness. She quietly made her way into the palace, and made her way to where Leon and Cassandra were. Unfortunately for her, the pair were currently in the process of discussing the festival. Glumly, she sat silently, nursing a large bowl of wine as Casandra and Leon deliberated a victor.
“The first step is that we can scratch off any troupes that simply re-enacted an existing play. Those were simply derivative, and giving a victory to that in our first festival sets an unfortunate precedent.” Cassandra remarked, working off a clay tablet listing the various performances. Lines went through about a third of the participants. “We can also do away with anything that tried to relate to Iskandar or my own dynasty, and especially that gods-awful recreation of our little scheme to destroy Tyndareus.”
“I personally found that one funny.” Sera piped up, remembering the comically inaccurate play. “Though they did manage quite the trick with their costume for me, I’ll need to get in touch with their costume department to see how the internals worked.”
“It was funny, mostly because it was inaccurate enough we could probably bring a suit for slander, libel, and slanderous libel against them.” Leon grumbled with arms folded. He had been made the butt of many a joke in that production, with the comedy of the valiant warrior being utterly surpassed by two women being a common refrain. “Beyond that, we don’t want to give the wrong impression about what exactly is acceptable to say about a queen.”
“The Corinthians have something of an irreverent streak, that much is for certain. Unfortunately we can only bring slander, libel, and slanderous libel and not treason, as they are presently foreigners.” Cassandra demurred. “Still, delivering sanctions on the Ember Island Company could be an effective way to get the message across to Corinth that a more peaceful Macedon is not a pushover.”
“With regard to the reproductions, what about The Choir’s Apologia?” Leon asked, throwing Sera a metaphorical bone. She ate literal bones as well, but if Leon threw her one he’d soon find out what it was like to skydive before the invention of a parachute.
“Disqualified as well. It deviates from the standard formula, but relies on you already understanding it. Really, if you didn’t know much about theatre to begin with, at lot of it would be lost on you. It ultimately came off as pretentious, and despite its inherently kind of ridiculous premise, was more depressing than anything. This sort of meta-commentary might work better for the sake of humor rather than trying for serious drama. Trying it here simply made the play exhausting and the sort of thing Tartarus really felt like it was mocking. That said, its pretention and grim character could give a good impression that the Macedonian theatre scene is serious and educated, but then I’d have to watch so many more like it. I don’t have enough absinthe to get through more than about one of those in a single festival.” Cassandra replied to that, and drew a second line through Apologia to emphasize her point. Seramis shrank into her cushions.
“Ah, so you enjoyed Tartarus then?” Leonidas asked in turn, trying to navigate the conversation to something less liable to torment the dragoness.
“Oh I most certainly did, but we can’t give it the win. As amusing as it is, it’s ultimately a very limited production. I like it, but giving it the victory would indicate a degree of “small scale” theatre in Macedon. I don’t want to give anyone else opportunity to degrade the work that’s been done here by suggesting that the Macedonian theatre lacks ambition.” Cassandra said with a sigh, and began crossing out any plays of similar scale.
“Which would be possessed by the Davidiad, but we all know how catastrophically wrong that went, so pray spare me whatever salt you were going to pour into that wound. I know that with all the bacchanalian delights available, you probably have managed to find someone who enjoys being tormented, but I am not that someone. So please, if you’re going to continue trying to murder me with words, use the ones that summon that lightning ball that nearly splattered me across the wall. It was a gentler execution.” Seramis grumbled, finally speaking up for herself.
Cassandra realized she’d gone to far, and put down the tablet. “I’m sorry Sera, I meant to tease, but not be cruel. I actually would agree that the Davidiad’s ambition was most impressive, and if not for some production hiccups, I think it might have had a chance at winning. I do tease, but I really do appreciate all the work you’ve put in to this, not just your company, but allowing this whole festival to go off. So, please forgive me if I’ve stepped too far from jest into mockery.”
“It’s fine, simply a very fresh disappointment. I’m afraid I missed most of the festival as I was busy running things or, well, pouting in a lake.” Seramis replied, waving away the problem with her tail. “So aside from everything you’ve disqualified, what do you think actually won?”
“I do have a personal preference.” Cass admitted, though she seemed a touch embarrassed by it. “The Court of Autumn.” The other two looked at her carefully with that. The Court of Autumn had been a much more romantic retelling of the story of Hades and Persephone, focused on the courtship of the pair, and the conflict that arose from a disapproving and overbearing Demeter. Neither of the pair had expected Cass to favor a romance, and their expressions showed it plainly. Cassandra merely shrugged. “We all desire what we cannot have, and it comes to a question of character whether we become envious of those lucky enough to have it, or delight sorrowfully that another is so blessed, even if they might not realize it.”
“I mean, I can’t deny that it was very well done. If I didn’t know better then I’d say that the two leads actually were a couple.” Leon replied with a nod. “It certainly doesn’t lack for ambition either, nor courage to speak the names of the Dread Queen and Lord With Many Guests so commonly.”
Cass smiled at that. “The fact that they do so is also part of why I like it. Persephone and Hades are dead, all the Olympians are. The reverence shown to corpses is illogical.”
Seramis processed this information, and considered her memory banks. “The company behind it, they’re one of the Theban companies, the Men of the Muses, correct?” She asked, and Cass checked, then nodded. “Ah, then yes, the two leads are actually husband and wife, they’ve got something of a specialty for romances as a result.”
“Write, or as the case may be, act, what you know.” Cassandra said with a shrug. “So we concur, The Court of Autumn is the victor?”
“I can’t argue against it.” Leon replied.
“Nor can I, but that’s more due to the aforementioned lack of context. One can make arguments without information, but I have a bit too much respect for the pair of you to engage in full sophistry.” Seramis admitted begrudgingly.
“Well, that absence may actually work to our advantage, returning from these pleasant distractions to the business of rule.” Cassandra said with a smile. “The Latins were particularly delighted with Tartarus, and actually wished to see the director. Said director was currently indisposed, but they have extended something of an open invitation. I think that accepting would provide quite the opportunity. It isn’t often one has a chance to walk right into the midst of a potentially hostile camp and see what they’re up to under guest-right.”
Seramis rose in interest at the idea, and cracked her neck. Cracking such a long neck was a process, creating a rippling crackling sound as vertebrae popped along the serpentine trunk. She grinned in anticipation. “I’ll melt myself a new dress.”

Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
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A warm breeze rustled through the leaves of the peach blossom forest as Kayla walked with Urtiga. They were in the Vale of the Fallen, where every tree represented a woman who had been lost in the service of Valkyrie, and the sturdy, immortal trunks stretched as far as the eye could see.
Urtiga liked to take Kayla to meet her fallen friends, and tell their stories. She insisted that it was the only way to keep alive the memories of those who were lost, and the knowledge they had earned in blood.
For Kayla it was an honor and a privilege. By tacit agreement, no woman ever went further into the forest than their own generation, unless invited, because they would be able to guess the age of the Valkyrie they met.
“I still don’t understand why you took me under your wing,” Kayla said, as they walked back to the entrance. “I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
Urtiga gave her a mild shove. “Have you been feeling sorry for yourself? You know that’s not what I want to hear.”
“A little bit,” Kayla admitted. She reached up and scratched at a bad rash on her neck, and winced at the movement.
“Training accident?” Urtiga asked.
Kayla chuckled “No, I got a bit over-zealous with my role, and Thandi made me pay for it. She’s got this natural talent for all martial arts. Makes me super jealous.”
“Okay, I get,” said Urtiga. “You’ve been screwing up.”
“And then some. You heard about the friendly fire incident?”
Urtiga smiled wryly. “Which one? My unit had one too, you know.”
“At least nobody got shot in yours.”
“Kayla, anything can happen once bullets start flying.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone says. I just don’t know if I’ve got this leadership business figured out yet.”
Urtiga shook her head and said nothing. Then she stopped in her tracks.
“My whole family got vaporized by a bomb on Titan. During the Sol war—most people don’t even remember it now. It’s a footnote in any history book.” She looked sadly into the distance. “A few rebels versus the Earth government in a weeklong exchange of ordinance that achieved nothing. Valkyrie took me in, and I’ve never known anything else.
Kayla watched her mentor as she took in every word.
“My older sister was the coolest person I knew. We used to do everything together; run around the colony, steal boats and race them on the methane lakes. When the bombs started falling, we all ran into the basement. They told me to stay still, but I was too scared, and we always used to run from trouble, so I got out of their grip and raced outside.”
She smiled. “I honestly thought they would follow me. But I looked back and the whole building just disintegrated. They used a bunker buster because they said they the rebels had tunneled under our houses. There was nothing left at all.”
“Did you blame yourself?” Kayla asked.
Despite the rush of grief and horror, and the parade of questions, she didn’t want to overreact. She had no business falling to pieces when she hadn’t experienced what Urtiga, at more than a century old, had already healed from. Even with her own memories, excessive sympathy made her uncomfortable.
“Sure,” Urtiga said. “I went through the whole rollercoaster for decades. But anyway, when you lost your dad, I thought you could use an older sister. So that’s why I took you under my wing.”
Kayla suddenly lost control of her voice. “Sometimes I wish you were my mother.”
“Oh, I’d be a terrible mother,” Urtiga said as she awkwardly kicked at a fallen branch. “Besides, yours is still alive.”
“But she’s a narcissist,” Kayla insisted. “There’s nothing there to connect with.”
“You remember when you came to Tyr? The first thing I said to you? It was so awful, and I beat myself up about it for ages.”
Kayla thought for a moment, then laughed. “Did I regret the day you met me? The day my dad died? Yeah, I wasn’t sure about that one, but I think I forgot about it quickly with everything that was going on.”
“You see? I can’t be a mother. I’ve lost the touch. I don’t think I’m a narcissist, but… well, you would be reminded of one from time to time.”
“You probably could, if you wanted to be.”
“Just like you could be a good team leader, if you wanted to be?”
Kayla stopped short and lifted her head to stare at the sky through the pink blossoms above them. She felt very angry, and very stupid at the same time.
“I’m a reckless, irresponsible idiot, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Urtiga nodded. “That’s about how most of us start out. It’s very on the job training.”
“But the others… they need someone way better than me.”
“No, they need you, because you are an excellent soldier, and as soon as you stop trying to take responsibility for the risks they accepted for themselves, you’ll figure that out.”
Urtiga stopped and stared down the path. The forest had given way to a crowd of evenly spaced young saplings. Where she was looking, Kayla saw Christe and Thandi sat by one of them, talking happily. “Your friend Rose didn’t join this organization because she wanted to live forever. She joined because she wanted her life to count for something more than herself. And it did.”
Kayla tried to sniff back tears. “But Rayker got away. I let it happen again.”
Urtiga grabbed her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “I don’t want to hear that. We let Rayker get away. It was a team failure, and won’t be the last we have to endure. But you know we’ll hunt her down again. And some more women will die. And one day we will succeed, and it will all have been worth it. If you don’t give everything you have to make that happen, failures included, then what does that mean for the sacrifices of those that did?”
***
After she left Urtiga, Kayla joined her friends at the sapling where Rose’s body was buried.
“How’s your shoulder?” Thandi asked.
“It’s good, but I need to stretch it some more. Did you really have to dislocate it?”
“I dunno. I guess we’ll see how you do over the next couple of weeks.”
“One of these days it’s going to be me kicking your ass,” Kayla said with a grimace.
Thandi laughed, and shook her head dismissively.
“How is the wide-eyed, naïve, and totally unsuspecting future of our precious organization?” Kayla asked.
Thandi scoffed. “Driving forward with a spring in her step. Barely put off by your doom and gloom speech. Still idolizes the squad in general, and you in particular, in defiance of explanation. Ray’s taken her under her wing.”
“That’s good,” Kayla nodded. “Ray’s awesome.”
“What will happen to Yak?” Christie asked.
“She was already near the end of her probation,” Kayla said. Valkyrie were usually required to serve a five-year term as a Ranger before they could specialize into other units. “And she was already on a program to prep for Pararescue selection. Either way, she won’t come back to our squad.”
“What a coldly bureaucratic system your battalions operate under.”
“Obviously. Duty comes before everything else.”
Christie looked thoughtful. “Do you know, I’ve heard a lot of stories about your friend Ray. I feel certain she’s spent a lot more than five years as a Ranger.”
Thandi shrugged. “You can stay however long you want. Before Ash left, she told me Ray was in Winter battalion before Mountain. But she’s super cagey about it.”
“She’s easily the most dialed in Ranger in the company, too,” Kayla observed.
“Of course,” Christie mused, “Given the advantages of nanite enhancement, we have no idea how old many of our colleagues are. I was shocked when I learned Urtiga was nearly a hundred and forty years old. You can’t remotely tell by looking.”
“Sure,” Kayla said. “Ray can be a bit adolescent though, especially when it comes to men.”
Christie only raised an eyebrow.
“I just hope we have time to get our rookie up to speed before we have to go face Rayker again,” Kayla said, absently. She picked a blade of grass and studied it closely.
“Unlikely,” Christie said after a thoughtful pause. “One cannot move a small army of alien war machines around without generating chatter. She might go into hibernation in dead space somewhere—and who am I to make assumptions about her strategy? But if she moves, we will know within weeks. There are many ears to the ground, you see. It’s a very all-hands on deck situation.”
“I would bet,” Thandi said carefully, “that the Delta-Three-Alpha mess gave the chiefs a wakeup call. They need to reorganize Valkyrie into a large-scale, coordinated force, rather than the piecemeal cleanup groups they’ve gotten used to.
“But there are so many problems with that approach,” Christie argued. “You cannot simply start moving a private army into human space without catastrophic effects.”
Thandi shrugged. “Come on Chris. This whole ‘neutral protectors’ thing was never going to last. Between the trafficking and Rayker… something had to change. Everyone knows it.”
Christie scoffed. “Oh gosh, how could I forget that we had the benefit of perfect moral righteousness to guide us?”
Kayla gave her a disappointed look. “But you think we have superior intellect, don’t you? Here’s the thing, you might want to revisit some of your assumptions about who exactly is in the driving seat of the Ranger battalions. And they don’t necessarily share the opinions of the officer-intel class.”
Christie stared at her, speechless. When she finally spoke, she sounded offended. “I’m stunned you would even use a term like that. What happened to one-team one-fight?”
Kayla just shrugged. She couldn’t help being the bearer of bad news.
“I’m sorry, I thought I had joined a responsible paramilitary organization. Now my friends tell me I’m part of a gang, a mob, of angry, over-powered ego maniacs. I suppose this is the time where I need to shut up and do as I’m told by those with the guns, is that right?”
“That’s unfair,” Thandi said. “I hate the way you try to oversimplify everything.”
“Un-simplify it for me then,” Christie said, as her cheeks began to color.
Thandi’s voice softened. “You know that Valkyrie puts reputation and experience before rank, and you know that the most senior veterans could be anyone. Probably only the chiefs know who the old guard are.”
“It is an extremely effective clique; I grant you that.”
“Officers are a necessity for organization and coordination. They are the nerves which drive the muscle. But the body has a heart, and it has a gut.”
“An organ for pumping blood and another for digesting food, gosh, what an insightful metaphor.” Christie said coldly.
Kayla chuckled. “Which part do you think is the ass—sorry, sorry.” She looked down as her friends scowled her into silence.
“Listen Chris,” Thandi continued, maintaining her even tone. “You’re the one making assumptions about how the organization thinks.
“Or ought to think,” Kayla said quietly.
“We’re just sharing the broader picture,” Thandi finished.
“Hmph.” Christie looked away into the forest as her jaw clenched.
She didn’t speak for some time, and Kayla exchanged a look with Thandi as the silence continued. Eventually, however, Christie appeared to relax, and sighed deeply.
“You’re right, obviously,” she said. “None of us really know what kind of people our superiors are, or their agenda.”
Kayla nodded. “All I know is that I like who I work with, and that the missions we get handed seem worthy. Here, have a dandelion.”
Christie gratefully accepted the flower and her smile brightened.
“I suppose you’ll bring your new girl to Caldera?” she asked.
Smyrna had declared mandatory weekend leave for the task force, with explicit instructions to get off Tyr and visit civilization. The squad had planned to unwind on Caldera by staying in the spacious town house of Kayla’s adoptive father, Jack Fenway. The ability to find their own friends outside work had expired with time in service, and so they hoped to get drunk in Zula while flirting with locals. Only Kes had declined, citing family matters.
“Yeah, of course,” Kayla said. “She’s been pushing so hard she’s brain fried, and it’s the perfect opportunity to integrate her. Anyway, check it out, I’ve got this awesome new outfit I wanted to wear—”
“If it was that meager scrap of fabric you had laid out on your bed, you’re not wearing that,” Thandi said flatly.
Kayla huffed in frustration. “I’m sorry, are you just my full-time mother now?”
“Yours mostly ignored you, as did all the girls you were with growing up, so yeah, I guess I have to take on some of that responsibility.”
“Well give it a rest. There’s nothing wrong with me being feminine and showing off some skin.”
“First, those are two completely different concepts, and the fact that you don’t understand that tells me how far you have left to go. Second—no, listen,” she cut Kayla off as she tried to answer back. “Second; girls who can dress like that without concern usually know what they are doing. You have no idea what you are doing, because you’ve never socialized with people outside this group of immortal, trained killers, who are as far removed from real life as it is possible to get.”
Kayla scowled as she scratched at the dirt. “I bet Christie would be happy to take me out looking hot.”
“Don’t try and turn us against each other,” Thandi snapped. “I’m looking out for you, because you do not understand that the world is filled with sharks. When they see a young woman wearing skimpy outfits, without the experience to know how to handle herself, all they see is prey. Christie, back me up.”
“Thandi is correct,” Christie said. “Social interaction is a subtle and fast spoken language, chiefly used in the exploitation of the inexperienced. And men, of course, are vile monsters to be watched with constant suspicion, while noting their range and elevation. Perhaps, Thandi, a mortar team could be called upon to set up a thousand meters from the venue, in case we have need?”
Thandi slapped her on the leg and turned back to Kayla. “She’s being facetious, but she did agree.”
“Broadly agreed,” Christie allowed. “Just don’t be absurdly skittish. And can we do anything to convince you to explore the rest of the color spectrum? Black cannot be worn for every occasion.”
Kayla shook her head. “That’s objectively false.”
“And please, whatever you do,” Thandi said, “Remember Rose’s advice. If you meet anyone who reminds you of your friend Weslan Genny, walk away immediately.”
“So, to clarify,” Kayla said in exasperation. “Even when I get a long weekend break, I still have to spend it learning new tactics, techniques and procedures?”
“Correct,” Christie said. “And there will be a test.”
Thandi squeezed her shoulder. “I’m really sorry you weren’t given the upbringing you needed to become as well-rounded as other girls. I’m sorry you have to work hard just to become more normal. But, on the bright side, you are a Ranger, and you will crush this like you crush everything else.”
Kayla smiled gratefully. “Usually with a lot of collateral damage, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
First ¦ Previous ¦ Next ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

Hi guys,
TL;DR - I failed step 2 CK twice and passed it on my third attempt - matched this season and I need a visa. Open to answering any questions - comment/DM
Admins - I wouldn't mind if this can be pinned/saved for future applicants - I'll be open for questions/support throughout the coming years (because honestly I found zero posts when I failed even the first time - so hopefully it helps throughout!)
Step 1 = 225
Step 2CK = failed it twice - passed on 3rd attempt = 250
Step 3 = 235
YOG = 2019
Need visa = J1/H1b
2-3 months USCE in hospital = got through emailing and through the formal processes (used lists that circulate around FB - I unfortunately do not have these now and won't be able to help in this, I'm afraid)
Work experience = 4 years (including 1 year of telemedicine) (in different parts of the world so got to experience 4 healthcare systems which was great - had recommendations from all these jobs and used to support my application - I know it is usually said that US recs are preferred, but if you have worked in a job and they can attest to your work ethic, I thought it best to use those) - working is very important you lot - it helped me pay for all the exams (remember I sat 2 extra step 2s) and save enough to travel to US for USCEs - also helps you see beyond America and helps you realize that not all your worth is dependent on this
Other exams - I had sat the MRCP parts 1 and 2 written as common here in UK and I got partial sponsorship from my trust
Teaching experience = had done the teacher training course which is sponsored by NHS trusts here in England and then had a little more than 1 year of teaching experience with formal feedback and many online ones
Research experience = had done a research course online which was free during COVID and then got into publishing - did SMA/case reports/original research - had about 40 altogether (including published papers, posters, presentations, unpublished but submitted, unpublished but working on work, etc) = initially started with online ones (was bad - I was treated worse and thrown out of many projects - once they also took all credit for my work and published in a good journal without my name), eventually caught up and later worked with friends/colleagues - in all my jobs I did, I was able to publish case reports and work on original research with my line managers and colleagues (feel this is the best - try this as much as possible rather than only doing online)
Audit experience = had several informal small audits - no published ones to date but have worked on full cycle ones - so I did put that in my application
Volunteering experience = tiny ones during med school and COVID - had space for just one to be added on ERAS (as now only 10 experiences can be added)
Recommendation letters = had US ones and then from my jobs - I reckon only 1 was uploaded by my letter writer (so blind) - the rest, I uploaded by myself. Again I know it is usually the US ones preferred, but if your clinical leads in your jobs have good creds, do ask them to write too - as they can easily comment on your work ethic
Personal statement = mine was an entire page, wrote it myself, and just had it proofread by my sister for grammatical errors and nothing else. This is really your story - again I know everyone wants the perfect one here, but I felt that minute errors just depicted my nuances - trust me, I did use a little slang too and my last paragraph was informal, but again that was just how I write essays/speeches and have always stuck to my style.
My first time applying because since I failed, I knew I had to do everything in my power the first time I apply and that would be my last time applying (money crunch) - I applied to 375 programs (yes - very huge amount of money - took a loan for this and will repay now)
I had only applied to internal medicine because that's only what I ever wanted to do since 3rd year med school
Had 9 interviews - 1 from a prematch program - matched at a J1 program
I'm open to answering any questions/concerns/support whichever way I can - comment down below (preferred) but also open to DM if you lot feel you want to talk in private.
From here on - Just some things I learned and want to preach - I know It is super duper easy for me now to sit and preach and say all these big emotional and motivational things (I hated these when I failed too - felt disdainful) - take it with a grain of salt
I had the most brilliant and amazing school and college life - full of fun and enjoyment - then I graduated and took about a year of gap and sat step 1 and step 2 (first fail), I was very miserable - sat at home, had no experience, forgot all my hobbies, went out little to none (and I'm a huge extrovert!), spoke to friends on calls only, no relationship (didn't even look) -
when I failed, it was very distressing - my situation is weird - didn't know what to do after that failure, no money at all, zero connections in America at all, I have my parents and sister but absolutely no other family in this world but have some of the best people I call friends -
my parents, sister, flatmates and friends supported in every possible way (which I'm so thankful for) - then I thought I had to earn money to fund my further exams and started working and did many other things apart from clinical medicine (teaching/research/sitting exams/audits) and lived life (enjoyed with friends/hung out with colleagues/traveled/got back to my favorite sport - swimming/got back into singing and piano/got back into doing all my favorite hobbies/love and relationships, etc). obviously work helps with the money too and I was able to pay off some med school fee loans and all my exam loans and fund my further exams and all the moves between countries
Initially my plan was also like so many - take 2 years of gap and sit all exams and apply and interview and get into residency - I thought I'll go from graduating med school to sitting at home to study to starting residency
But after that miserable 1 year of gap, I've had so many different experiences that I sometimes feel (and I know this can be a bit patronising from my side) that it's good I failed - made me get out and enjoy life and made me learn that career is only 1 part of your life - there's so much more! Live life - its too short (shorter for us doctors) - enjoy - trust me (if anyone is right now in a similar situation like me), go out with your best friends and do fun things, discuss with them random gossip, something other than usmles or even what you're feeling (true friends are not to judge or give you solutions - they are there to listen and only listen when you vent/cry/scream) talk to your mum and dad about their lives and something different than this usmles (how many of us know our parents before they became our parents?) (or again discuss with them how you're feeling), play dress up, go on dates, etc, etc! Honestly moving out of my sitting at home plan and living and working in so many different countries, got me going!
(quoting disney) - keep the child in you alive, be kind always, have courage and always leave sparkles wherever you go!
Trust me everyone - people in this world have achieved far more impossible things - failing is nothing - the hardest part is consistency - super difficult to continue when you see all your friends and peers move onto residency or non-med friends move onto working in big jobs, or people living their lives and you stuck in a place - facing failure is very hard I know - but trust me we are all so much more worth - that's why i said above that working and living other aspects of your life is very important - makes you value yourself
do not put usmles or residency in America as something like a crowning jewel - most of us have tendencies to put it on a pedestal - when achieved, we can tend to become complacent and condescending (I was the same after I passed step 1 - super complacent, overconfident, condescending, superiority complex - the first fail humbled me - I've learnt it the hard way guys - stay as humble as possible); but when not achieved, we tend to feel we are worthless and don't know what to do. Not the best, is it?
Lastly - NEVER EVER let ANYONE (peers, people on social media groups, all these med influencers, other big doctors who you might look up to at this time, USCE/USMLE agencies, etc) tell you it is impossible! Hell just never let them tell you its very hard too (I see this in so many med influencers vidoes/posts that if you fail or even score less than certain amount it is sooo difficult, sooo hard with so much emphasis on sooo!) Also NEVER EVER let ANYONE disrespect you or patronise you (if a seniopeeanyone who has matched or achieved bigger things than you, doesn't mean they are kings and queens of this world - if they can't stay humble, not your problem - you shouldn't be made felt inferior in any way!)

Hi guys,
TL;DR - I failed step 2 CK twice and passed it on my third attempt - matched this season and I need a visa. Open to answering any questions - comment/DM
Admins - I wouldn't mind if this can be pinned/saved for future applicants - I'll be open for questions/support throughout the coming years (because honestly I found zero posts when I failed even the first time - so hopefully it helps throughout!)
Step 1 = 225
Step 2CK = failed it twice - passed on 3rd attempt = 250
Step 3 = 235
YOG = 2019
Need visa = J1/H1b
2-3 months USCE in hospital = got through emailing and through the formal processes (used lists that circulate around FB - I unfortunately do not have these now and won't be able to help in this, I'm afraid)
Work experience = 4 years (including 1 year of telemedicine) (in different parts of the world so got to experience 4 healthcare systems which was great - had recommendations from all these jobs and used to support my application - I know it is usually said that US recs are preferred, but if you have worked in a job and they can attest to your work ethic, I thought it best to use those) - working is very important you lot - it helped me pay for all the exams (remember I sat 2 extra step 2s) and save enough to travel to US for USCEs - also helps you see beyond America and helps you realize that not all your worth is dependent on this
Other exams - I had sat the MRCP parts 1 and 2 written as common here in UK and I got partial sponsorship from my trust
Teaching experience = had done the teacher training course which is sponsored by NHS trusts here in England and then had a little more than 1 year of teaching experience with formal feedback and many online ones
Research experience = had done a research course online which was free during COVID and then got into publishing - did SMA/case reports/original research - had about 40 altogether (including published papers, posters, presentations, unpublished but submitted, unpublished but working on work, etc) = initially started with online ones (was bad - I was treated worse and thrown out of many projects - once they also took all credit for my work and published in a good journal without my name), eventually caught up and later worked with friends/colleagues - in all my jobs I did, I was able to publish case reports and work on original research with my line managers and colleagues (feel this is the best - try this as much as possible rather than only doing online)
Audit experience = had several informal small audits - no published ones to date but have worked on full cycle ones - so I did put that in my application
Volunteering experience = tiny ones during med school and COVID - had space for just one to be added on ERAS (as now only 10 experiences can be added)
Recommendation letters = had US ones and then from my jobs - I reckon only 1 was uploaded by my letter writer (so blind) - the rest, I uploaded by myself. Again I know it is usually the US ones preferred, but if your clinical leads in your jobs have good creds, do ask them to write too - as they can easily comment on your work ethic
Personal statement = mine was an entire page, wrote it myself, and just had it proofread by my sister for grammatical errors and nothing else. This is really your story - again I know everyone wants the perfect one here, but I felt that minute errors just depicted my nuances - trust me, I did use a little slang too and my last paragraph was informal, but again that was just how I write essays/speeches and have always stuck to my style.
My first time applying because since I failed, I knew I had to do everything in my power the first time I apply and that would be my last time applying (money crunch) - I applied to 375 programs (yes - very huge amount of money - took a loan for this and will repay now)
I had only applied to internal medicine because that's only what I ever wanted to do since 3rd year med school
Had 9 interviews - 1 from a prematch program - matched at a J1 program
I'm open to answering any questions/concerns/support whichever way I can - comment down below (preferred) but also open to DM if you lot feel you want to talk in private.
From here on - Just some things I learned and want to preach - I know It is super duper easy for me now to sit and preach and say all these big emotional and motivational things (I hated these when I failed too - felt disdainful) - take it with a grain of salt
I had the most brilliant and amazing school and college life - full of fun and enjoyment - then I graduated and took about a year of gap and sat step 1 and step 2 (first fail), I was very miserable - sat at home, had no experience, forgot all my hobbies, went out little to none (and I'm a huge extrovert!), spoke to friends on calls only, no relationship (didn't even look) -
when I failed, it was very distressing - my situation is weird - didn't know what to do after that failure, no money at all, zero connections in America at all, I have my parents and sister but absolutely no other family in this world but have some of the best people I call friends -
my parents, sister, flatmates and friends supported in every possible way (which I'm so thankful for) - then I thought I had to earn money to fund my further exams and started working and did many other things apart from clinical medicine (teaching/research/sitting exams/audits) and lived life (enjoyed with friends/hung out with colleagues/traveled/got back to my favorite sport - swimming/got back into singing and piano/got back into doing all my favorite hobbies/love and relationships, etc). obviously work helps with the money too and I was able to pay off some med school fee loans and all my exam loans and fund my further exams and all the moves between countries
Initially my plan was also like so many - take 2 years of gap and sit all exams and apply and interview and get into residency - I thought I'll go from graduating med school to sitting at home to study to starting residency
But after that miserable 1 year of gap, I've had so many different experiences that I sometimes feel (and I know this can be a bit patronising from my side) that it's good I failed - made me get out and enjoy life and made me learn that career is only 1 part of your life - there's so much more! Live life - its too short (shorter for us doctors) - enjoy - trust me (if anyone is right now in a similar situation like me), go out with your best friends and do fun things, discuss with them random gossip, something other than usmles or even what you're feeling (true friends are not to judge or give you solutions - they are there to listen and only listen when you vent/cry/scream) talk to your mum and dad about their lives and something different than this usmles (how many of us know our parents before they became our parents?) (or again discuss with them how you're feeling), play dress up, go on dates, etc, etc! Honestly moving out of my sitting at home plan and living and working in so many different countries, got me going!
(quoting disney) - keep the child in you alive, be kind always, have courage and always leave sparkles wherever you go!
Trust me everyone - people in this world have achieved far more impossible things - failing is nothing - the hardest part is consistency - super difficult to continue when you see all your friends and peers move onto residency or non-med friends move onto working in big jobs, or people living their lives and you stuck in a place - facing failure is very hard I know - but trust me we are all so much more worth - that's why i said above that working and living other aspects of your life is very important - makes you value yourself
do not put usmles or residency in America as something like a crowning jewel - most of us have tendencies to put it on a pedestal - when achieved, we can tend to become complacent and condescending (I was the same after I passed step 1 - super complacent, overconfident, condescending, superiority complex - the first fail humbled me - I've learnt it the hard way guys - stay as humble as possible); but when not achieved, we tend to feel we are worthless and don't know what to do. Not the best, is it?
Lastly - NEVER EVER let ANYONE (peers, people on social media groups, all these med influencers, other big doctors who you might look up to at this time, USCE/USMLE agencies, etc) tell you it is impossible! Hell just never let them tell you its very hard too (I see this in so many med influencers vidoes/posts that if you fail or even score less than certain amount it is sooo difficult, sooo hard with so much emphasis on sooo!) Also NEVER EVER let ANYONE disrespect you or patronise you (if a seniopeeanyone who has matched or achieved bigger things than you, doesn't mean they are kings and queens of this world - if they can't stay humble, not your problem - you shouldn't be made felt inferior in any way!)

Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
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A warm breeze rustled through the leaves of the peach blossom forest as Kayla walked with Urtiga. They were in the Vale of the Fallen, where every tree represented a woman who had been lost in the service of Valkyrie, and the sturdy, immortal trunks stretched as far as the eye could see.
Urtiga liked to take Kayla to meet her fallen friends, and tell their stories. She insisted that it was the only way to keep alive the memories of those who were lost, and the knowledge they had earned in blood.
For Kayla it was an honor and a privilege. By tacit agreement, no woman ever went further into the forest than their own generation, unless invited, because they would be able to guess the age of the Valkyrie they met.
“I still don’t understand why you took me under your wing,” Kayla said, as they walked back to the entrance. “I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
Urtiga gave her a mild shove. “Have you been feeling sorry for yourself? You know that’s not what I want to hear.”
“A little bit,” Kayla admitted. She reached up and scratched at a bad rash on her neck, and winced at the movement.
“Training accident?” Urtiga asked.
Kayla chuckled “No, I got a bit over-zealous with my role, and Thandi made me pay for it. She’s got this natural talent for all martial arts. Makes me super jealous.”
“Okay, I get,” said Urtiga. “You’ve been screwing up.”
“And then some. You heard about the friendly fire incident?”
Urtiga smiled wryly. “Which one? My unit had one too, you know.”
“At least nobody got shot in yours.”
“Kayla, anything can happen once bullets start flying.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone says. I just don’t know if I’ve got this leadership business figured out yet.”
Urtiga shook her head and said nothing. Then she stopped in her tracks.
“My whole family got vaporized by a bomb on Titan. During the Sol war—most people don’t even remember it now. It’s a footnote in any history book.” She looked sadly into the distance. “A few rebels versus the Earth government in a weeklong exchange of ordinance that achieved nothing. Valkyrie took me in, and I’ve never known anything else.
Kayla watched her mentor as she took in every word.
“My older sister was the coolest person I knew. We used to do everything together; run around the colony, steal boats and race them on the methane lakes. When the bombs started falling, we all ran into the basement. They told me to stay still, but I was too scared, and we always used to run from trouble, so I got out of their grip and raced outside.”
She smiled. “I honestly thought they would follow me. But I looked back and the whole building just disintegrated. They used a bunker buster because they said they the rebels had tunneled under our houses. There was nothing left at all.”
“Did you blame yourself?” Kayla asked.
Despite the rush of grief and horror, and the parade of questions, she didn’t want to overreact. She had no business falling to pieces when she hadn’t experienced what Urtiga, at more than a century old, had already healed from. Even with her own memories, excessive sympathy made her uncomfortable.
“Sure,” Urtiga said. “I went through the whole rollercoaster for decades. But anyway, when you lost your dad, I thought you could use an older sister. So that’s why I took you under my wing.”
Kayla suddenly lost control of her voice. “Sometimes I wish you were my mother.”
“Oh, I’d be a terrible mother,” Urtiga said as she awkwardly kicked at a fallen branch. “Besides, yours is still alive.”
“But she’s a narcissist,” Kayla insisted. “There’s nothing there to connect with.”
“You remember when you came to Tyr? The first thing I said to you? It was so awful, and I beat myself up about it for ages.”
Kayla thought for a moment, then laughed. “Did I regret the day you met me? The day my dad died? Yeah, I wasn’t sure about that one, but I think I forgot about it quickly with everything that was going on.”
“You see? I can’t be a mother. I’ve lost the touch. I don’t think I’m a narcissist, but… well, you would be reminded of one from time to time.”
“You probably could, if you wanted to be.”
“Just like you could be a good team leader, if you wanted to be?”
Kayla stopped short and lifted her head to stare at the sky through the pink blossoms above them. She felt very angry, and very stupid at the same time.
“I’m a reckless, irresponsible idiot, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Urtiga nodded. “That’s about how most of us start out. It’s very on the job training.”
“But the others… they need someone way better than me.”
“No, they need you, because you are an excellent soldier, and as soon as you stop trying to take responsibility for the risks they accepted for themselves, you’ll figure that out.”
Urtiga stopped and stared down the path. The forest had given way to a crowd of evenly spaced young saplings. Where she was looking, Kayla saw Christe and Thandi sat by one of them, talking happily. “Your friend Rose didn’t join this organization because she wanted to live forever. She joined because she wanted her life to count for something more than herself. And it did.”
Kayla tried to sniff back tears. “But Rayker got away. I let it happen again.”
Urtiga grabbed her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “I don’t want to hear that. We let Rayker get away. It was a team failure, and won’t be the last we have to endure. But you know we’ll hunt her down again. And some more women will die. And one day we will succeed, and it will all have been worth it. If you don’t give everything you have to make that happen, failures included, then what does that mean for the sacrifices of those that did?”
***
After she left Urtiga, Kayla joined her friends at the sapling, where Rose’s body was buried.
“How’s your shoulder?” Thandi asked.
“It’s good, but I need to stretch it some more. Did you really have to dislocate it?”
“I dunno. I guess we’ll see how you do over the next couple of weeks.”
“One of these days it’s going to be me kicking your ass,” Kayla said with a grimace.
Thandi laughed, and shook her head dismissively.
“How is the wide-eyed, naïve, and totally unsuspecting future of our precious organization?” Kayla asked.
Thandi scoffed. “Driving forward with a spring in her step. Barely put off by your doom and gloom speech. Still idolizes the squad in general, and you in particular, in defiance of explanation. Ray’s taken her under her wing.”
“That’s good,” Kayla nodded. “Ray’s awesome.”
“What will happen to Yak?” Christie asked.
“She was already near the end of her probation,” Kayla said. Valkyrie were usually required to serve a five-year term as a Ranger before they could specialize into other units. “And she was already on a program to prep for Pararescue selection. Either way, she won’t come back to our squad.”
“What a coldly bureaucratic system your battalions operate under.”
“Obviously. Duty comes before everything else.”
Christie looked thoughtful. “Do you know, I’ve heard a lot of stories about your friend Ray. I feel certain she’s spent a lot more than five years as a Ranger.”
Thandi shrugged. “You can stay however long you want. Before Ash left, she told me Ray was in Winter battalion before Mountain. But she’s super cagey about it.”
“She’s easily the most dialed in Ranger in the company, too,” Kayla observed.
“Of course,” Christie mused, “Given the advantages of nanite enhancement, we have no idea how old many of our colleagues are. I was shocked when I learned Urtiga was nearly a hundred and forty years old. You can’t remotely tell by looking.”
“Sure,” Kayla said. “Ray can be a bit adolescent though, especially when it comes to men.”
Christie only raised an eyebrow.
“I just hope we have time to get our rookie up to speed before we have to go face Rayker again,” Kayla said, absently. She picked a blade of grass and studied it closely.
“Unlikely,” Christie said after a thoughtful pause. “One cannot move a small army of alien war machines around without generating chatter. She might go into hibernation in dead space somewhere—and who am I to make assumptions about her strategy? But if she moves, we will know within weeks. There are many ears to the ground, you see. It’s a very all-hands on deck situation.”
“I would bet,” Thandi said carefully, “that the Delta-Three-Alpha mess gave the chiefs a wakeup call. They need to reorganize Valkyrie into a large-scale, coordinated force, rather than the piecemeal cleanup groups they’ve gotten used to.
“But there are so many problems with that approach,” Christie argued. “You cannot simply start moving a private army into human space without catastrophic effects.”
Thandi shrugged. “Come on Chris. This whole ‘neutral protectors’ thing was never going to last. Between the trafficking and Rayker… something had to change. Everyone knows it.”
Christie scoffed. “Oh gosh, how could I forget that we had the benefit of perfect moral righteousness to guide us?”
Kayla gave her a disappointed look. “But you think we have superior intellect, don’t you? Here’s the thing, you might want to revisit some of your assumptions about who exactly is in the driving seat of the Ranger battalions. And they don’t necessarily share the opinions of the officer-intel class.”
Christie stared at her, speechless. When she finally spoke, she sounded offended. “I’m stunned you would even use a term like that. What happened to one-team one-fight?”
Kayla just shrugged. She couldn’t help being the bearer of bad news.
“I’m sorry, I thought I had joined a responsible paramilitary organization. Now my friends tell me I’m part of a gang, a mob, of angry, over-powered ego maniacs. I suppose this is the time where I need to shut up and do as I’m told by those with the guns, is that right?”
“That’s unfair,” Thandi said. “I hate the way you try to oversimplify everything.”
“Un-simplify it for me then,” Christie said, as her cheeks began to color.
Thandi’s voice softened. “You know that Valkyrie puts reputation and experience before rank, and you know that the most senior veterans could be anyone. Probably only the chiefs know who the old guard are.”
“It is an extremely effective clique; I grant you that.”
“Officers are a necessity for organization and coordination. They are the nerves which drive the muscle. But the body has a heart, and it has a gut.”
“An organ for pumping blood and another for digesting food, gosh, what an insightful metaphor.” Christie said coldly.
Kayla chuckled. “Which part do you think is the ass—sorry, sorry.” She looked down as her friends scowled her into silence.
“Listen Chris,” Thandi continued, maintaining her even tone. “You’re the one making assumptions about how the organization thinks.
“Or ought to think,” Kayla said quietly.
“We’re just sharing the broader picture,” Thandi finished.
“Hmph.” Christie looked away into the forest as her jaw clenched.
She didn’t speak for some time, and Kayla exchanged a look with Thandi as the silence continued. Eventually, however, Christie appeared to relax, and sighed deeply.
“You’re right, obviously,” she said. “None of us really know what kind of people our superiors are, or their agenda.”
Kayla nodded. “All I know is that I like who I work with, and that the missions we get handed seem worthy. Here, have a dandelion.”
Christie gratefully accepted the flower and her smile brightened.
“I suppose you’ll bring your new girl to Caldera?” she asked.
Smyrna had declared mandatory weekend leave for the task force, with explicit instructions to get off Tyr and visit civilization. The squad had planned to unwind on Caldera by staying in the spacious town house of Kayla’s adoptive father, Jack Fenway. The ability to find their own friends outside work had expired with time in service, and so they hoped to get drunk in Zula while flirting with locals. Only Kes had declined, citing family matters.
“Yeah, of course,” Kayla said. “She’s been pushing so hard she’s brain fried, and it’s the perfect opportunity to integrate her. Anyway, check it out, I’ve got this awesome new outfit I wanted to wear—”
“If it was that meager scrap of fabric you had laid out on your bed, you’re not wearing that,” Thandi said flatly.
Kayla huffed in frustration. “I’m sorry, are you just my full-time mother now?”
“Yours mostly ignored you, as did all the girls you were with growing up, so yeah, I guess I have to take on some of that responsibility.”
“Well give it a rest. There’s nothing wrong with me being feminine and showing off some skin.”
“First, those are two completely different concepts, and the fact that you don’t understand that tells me how far you have left to go. Second—no, listen,” she cut Kayla off as she tried to answer back. “Second; girls who can dress like that without concern usually know what they are doing. You have no idea what you are doing, because you’ve never socialized with people outside this group of immortal, trained killers, who are as far removed from real life as it is possible to get.”
Kayla scowled as she scratched at the dirt. “I bet Christie would be happy to take me out looking hot.”
“Don’t try and turn us against each other,” Thandi snapped. “I’m looking out for you, because you do not understand that the world is filled with sharks. When they see a young woman wearing skimpy outfits, without the experience to know how to handle herself, all they see is prey. Christie, back me up.”
“Thandi is correct,” Christie said. “Social interaction is a subtle and fast spoken language, chiefly used in the exploitation of the inexperienced. And men, of course, are vile monsters to be watched with constant suspicion, while noting their range and elevation. Perhaps, Thandi, a mortar team could be called upon to set up a thousand meters from the venue, in case we have need?”
Thandi slapped her on the leg and turned back to Kayla. “She’s being facetious, but she did agree.”
“Broadly agreed,” Christie allowed. “Just don’t be absurdly skittish. And can we do anything to convince you to explore the rest of the color spectrum? Black cannot be worn for every occasion.”
Kayla shook her head. “That’s objectively false.”
“And please, whatever you do,” Thandi said, “Remember Rose’s advice. If you meet anyone who reminds you of your friend Weslan Genny, walk away immediately.”
“So, to clarify,” Kayla said in exasperation. “Even when I get a long weekend break, I still have to spend it learning new tactics, techniques and procedures?”
“Correct,” Christie said. “And there will be a test.”
Thandi squeezed her shoulder. “I’m really sorry you weren’t given the upbringing you needed to become as well-rounded as other girls. I’m sorry you have to work hard just to become more normal. But, on the bright side, you are a Ranger, and you will crush this like you crush everything else.”
Kayla smiled gratefully. “Usually with a lot of collateral damage, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
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Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

Hi guys,
TL;DR - I failed step 2 CK twice and passed it on my third attempt - matched this season and I need a visa (also absolutely zero connections in America). Open to answering any questions - comment/DM
Admins - I wouldn't mind if this can be pinned/saved for future applicants - I'll be open for questions/support throughout the coming years (because honestly I found zero posts when I failed even the first time - so hopefully it helps throughout!)
Step 1 = 225
Step 2CK = failed it twice - passed on 3rd attempt = 250
Step 3 = 235
YOG = 2019
Need visa = J1/H1b
2-3 months USCE in hospital (observerships only all) = got through emailing and through the formal processes (used lists that circulate around FB - I unfortunately do not have these now and won't be able to help in this, I'm afraid)
No connections in America - only one best friend (who's house I stayed in during USCE) and few other good friends - all these in other professions (not remotely attached to medicine)
Work experience = 4 years (including 1 year of telemedicine) (in different parts of the world so got to experience 4 healthcare systems which was great - had recommendations from all these jobs and used to support my application - I know it is usually said that US recs are preferred, but if you have worked in a job and they can attest to your work ethic, I thought it best to use those) - working is very important you lot - it helped me pay for all the exams (remember I sat 2 extra step 2s) and save enough to travel to US for USCEs - also helps you see beyond America and helps you realize that not all your worth is dependent on this
Other exams - I had sat the MRCP parts 1 and 2 written as common here in UK and I got partial sponsorship from my trust
Teaching experience = had done the teacher training course which is sponsored by NHS trusts here in England and then had a little more than 1 year of teaching experience with formal feedback and many online ones
Research experience = had done a research course online which was free during COVID and then got into publishing - did SMA/case reports/original research - had about 40 altogether (including published papers, posters, presentations, unpublished but submitted, unpublished but working on work, etc) = initially started with online ones (was bad - I was treated worse and thrown out of many projects - once they also took all credit for my work and published in a good journal without my name), eventually caught up and later worked with friends/colleagues - in all my jobs I did, I was able to publish case reports and work on original research with my line managers and colleagues (feel this is the best - try this as much as possible rather than only doing online)
Audit experience = had several informal small audits - no published ones to date but have worked on full cycle ones - so I did put that in my application
Volunteering experience = tiny ones during med school and COVID - had space for just one to be added on ERAS (as now only 10 experiences can be added)
Recommendation letters = had US ones and then from my jobs - I reckon only 1 was uploaded by my letter writer (so blind) - the rest, I uploaded by myself. Again I know it is usually the US ones preferred, but if your clinical leads in your jobs have good creds, do ask them to write too - as they can easily comment on your work ethic
Personal statement = mine was an entire page, wrote it myself, and just had it proofread by my sister for grammatical errors and nothing else. This is really your story - again I know everyone wants the perfect one here, but I felt that minute errors just depicted my nuances - trust me, I did use a little slang too and my last paragraph was informal, but again that was just how I write essays/speeches and have always stuck to my style.
My first time applying because since I failed, I knew I had to do everything in my power the first time I apply and that would be my last time applying (money crunch) - I applied to 375 programs (yes - very huge amount of money - took a loan for this and will repay now)
I had only applied to internal medicine because that's only what I ever wanted to do since 3rd year med school
Had 9 interviews - 1 from a prematch program - matched at a J1 program
I'm open to answering any questions/concerns/support whichever way I can - comment down below (preferred) but also open to DM if you lot feel you want to talk in private.
From here on - Just some things I learned and want to preach - I know It is super duper easy for me now to sit and preach and say all these big emotional and motivational things (I hated these when I failed too - felt disdainful) - take it with a grain of salt
I had the most brilliant and amazing school and college life - full of fun and enjoyment - then I graduated and took about a year of gap and sat step 1 and step 2 (first fail), I was very miserable - sat at home, had no experience, forgot all my hobbies, went out little to none (and I'm a huge extrovert!), spoke to friends on calls only, no relationship (didn't even look) -
when I failed, it was very distressing - my situation is weird - didn't know what to do after that failure, no money at all, zero connections in America at all, I have my parents and sister but absolutely no other family in this world but have some of the best people I call friends -
my parents, sister, flatmates and friends supported in every possible way (which I'm so thankful for) - then I thought I had to earn money to fund my further exams and started working and did many other things apart from clinical medicine (teaching/research/sitting exams/audits) and lived life (enjoyed with friends/hung out with colleagues/traveled/got back to my favorite sport - swimming/got back into singing and piano/got back into doing all my favorite hobbies/love and relationships, etc). obviously work helps with the money too and I was able to pay off some med school fee loans and all my exam loans and fund my further exams and all the moves between countries
Initially my plan was also like so many - take 2 years of gap and sit all exams and apply and interview and get into residency - I thought I'll go from graduating med school to sitting at home to study to starting residency
But after that miserable 1 year of gap, I've had so many different experiences that I sometimes feel (and I know this can be a bit patronising from my side) that it's good I failed - made me get out and enjoy life and made me learn that career is only 1 part of your life - there's so much more! Live life - its too short (shorter for us doctors) - enjoy - trust me (if anyone is right now in a similar situation like me), go out with your best friends and do fun things, discuss with them random gossip, something other than usmles or even what you're feeling (true friends are not to judge or give you solutions - they are there to listen and only listen when you vent/cry/scream) talk to your mum and dad about their lives and something different than this usmles (how many of us know our parents before they became our parents?) (or again discuss with them how you're feeling), play dress up, go on dates, etc, etc! Honestly moving out of my sitting at home plan and living and working in so many different countries, got me going!
(quoting disney) - keep the child in you alive, be kind always, have courage and always leave sparkles wherever you go!
Trust me everyone - people in this world have achieved far more impossible things - failing is nothing - the hardest part is consistency - super difficult to continue when you see all your friends and peers move onto residency or non-med friends move onto working in big jobs, or people living their lives and you stuck in a place - facing failure is very hard I know - but trust me we are all so much more worth - that's why i said above that working and living other aspects of your life is very important - makes you value yourself
do not put usmles or residency in America as something like a crowning jewel - most of us have tendencies to put it on a pedestal - when achieved, we can tend to become complacent and condescending (I was the same after I passed step 1 - super complacent, overconfident, condescending, superiority complex - the first fail humbled me - I've learnt it the hard way guys - stay as humble as possible); but when not achieved, we tend to feel we are worthless and don't know what to do. Not the best, is it?
Also, failing is super normal - nothing to be ashamed about or definitely no reason to just give up on life!
Lastly - NEVER EVER let ANYONE (peers, people on social media groups, all these med influencers, other big doctors who you might look up to at this time, USCE/USMLE agencies, etc) tell you it is impossible! Hell just never let them tell you its very hard too (I see this in so many med influencers vidoes/posts that if you fail or even score less than certain amount it is sooo difficult, sooo hard with so much emphasis on sooo!) Also NEVER EVER let ANYONE disrespect you or patronise you (if a seniopeeanyone who has matched or achieved bigger things than you, doesn't mean they are kings and queens of this world - if they can't stay humble, not your problem - you shouldn't be made felt inferior in any way!)

Prologue part 2
Chapter 1: Song of rainfall, and snow part 1.
Date: Feb 12th, 2046 9:23 AM/PCT Location: Proxima Centauri B, Outskirts of Kashuna, Capital of Proxima Centauri
“Hey! hey! Your local Global occult defense initiative recruiter here. The world is gonna get worse before it gets better. No seriously look around you. Around you, you are surrounded by Aliens, the occult, and things beyond comprehension that God made just for fun. It's our job to protect humanity from these world ending threats.” The video cuts to an event where the skies suddenly turn blood red mixed with an aurora borealis, fissures appear in the crimson skies, and azure liquids falling from the skies. When the droplets of the azure liquids drop into the ground they turned into horrific amalgamations of flesh, and liquids. The video cuts to a person being engulfed by the azure entities, and after a while the azure liquids suddenly disappears and the person who was engulfed by it started to laugh.
A moment later the body started to morph into another form, and was immediately lit up by humanoid robots with cold azure eyes. Some parts looked human. Mainly the head, and the body. The ears looked like headphones, the limbs looked so robotic or something akin to that of a prosthetics, and the eyes… Looks akin to that of the creature from the azure liquid. Seeing that sent shivers down my mind. Suddenly I felt like wanting to run away but didn't because I didn't want to fall off a jeep running at 60 miles per hour. But a second later I felt like my body was being broken apart. I don't know why but I just felt that way. In some part of me I felt somewhat disgusted at myself. Seemingly seeing myself as one of them.
A tear appeared on my face, making me feel dread as the video played. I don't know why… But it both made me sad, and angry. Like how I felt when I lost both mom, and dad. I shook my head and tried my best to ignore it. It's probably just my imagination or my mental instability. Yet something nagged at me like it wasn't. “Whether domestic or international. Do you really think we haven't suffered through the stars just to get here? Well if you know history then your answer is no, and you would be perfect for joining our local mobile task forces. Such as MTF Fox-2 The sneaky bastards.” Suddenly the screen cuts to footage of robotic soldiers in full optical camouflage uniforms gunning down some sort of ghost like apparitions. One of the apparitions looked like a giant orangutan that was given steroids, and was gunned down by a 70mm canon fire from a robotic construct that looked like a giant mechanical spider armed to the teeth with machine guns, and a main 150mm Howitzer, and a secondary 70mm flak. It's eyes glowed azure blue as it continued to gun down more of these apparitions.
“Um… Nau? Why does the local internet have military recruitment adds for humans? Like I bet the only people sent here are probably military personnel mostly, and some are researchers. So why is there military recruitment ads?” I asked curious about the reason this kind of ad was playing in this side of human controlled territory to try and distract myself from what I just saw and felt. If the UN was a conventional military then hiring soldiers from other nations or species would be out of the question.
“Well honestly K, you humans have been fighting off incursions for the last 5,000 years albiet in such smaller scales than what your normal species outside of the Orion arm does. It takes up a lot of man power to fight a prolonged war against wave incursions, and mutants from BEAR zones. To why you are fighting such draining conflicts? Well if I remember correctly a lot of these zones contain a lot of valuable resources to the point that fighting a large scale guerilla war would be worth the sacrifices. Not to even mention the main directive of the global occult defense initiative. To fight the things that bump in the night, and kill whatever things that threaten the safety, and veil of normalcy.”
“Their main motto is ‘We cull the things in the dark in order to live a normal life. We fight not for glory, profit, nor borders. We fight to keep normalcy.’ and sometimes this is just what they do. It takes a lot of manpower to contain things that can't be killed, to contain threats that might prove useful, to cull incursions, and to keep the veil of normalcy you know. Sometimes you need to outsource your recruiting from your target demographic. Think of it as a large scale version of the french foreign legion.”
Defragmentation complete.
Neural cloud status: Somewhat stable
Main cause of crash: Gravitational forces, and Thawing.
Reverting memories…..
Welcome. Recreatant 01.
Project Snowfall. ^{⁠_⁠^} :⁠-⁠P
-P.S remember. Mommy loves you K. Remember. Keep on living. No matter what happens. Even if the world drowns in rainfall.
A message appeared on my vision before quickly disappearing. I shrugged it off, thinking of it as some sort of hallucination, and a side effect of being thawed out which probably messed with my neurons.
Suddenly my mind started to feel light as it something has been lifted from my conscience.
“Kyruger you okay? You've been spacing out.”
“Yeah….. I'm fine.”
“What did I tell you?” She asked me.
“Umm….”
“Honestly I don't remember.”
“Well it's not like I'm letting you join them. Plus I wouldn't want you to disappear again.”
“We'll let's start to talk first. What do you remember?” I offered.
“How have you been Nau?” I smiled and looked at her, and I could faintly see her start to tear up as she stared back at me. For an honest second there I wanted to hug her but didn't because I wouldn't want us to both die. She's driving a buggy after all.
“Sure.” She said as she looked at the azure horizon whilst sighing. Currently the road we are driving is nothing but dust, and empty desert. As said by Nausica it would take 30 minutes to commute from the port to the capital. And currently we're traveling 80-90 miles per hour.
“Well. How do I put it…”
“I miss you Kyu. It's been lonely since you left.” She said whilst trying not to tear up. So.. your lonely. Just like me huh?
“How long has it been since I had…. a sincere connection….” She sighs before continuing.
“The past…. Twenty years has been rough to say the least. Everyone I met either hated me just because of my species or how I looked. Despite me trying my best to adapt….”
“People…. Still hated me….”
“Just like when we were kids…. “
“Just like when the neighbor’s kids used to belittle me just because of my hair color, and my eyes.”
“Despite me doing my best to be a good person, people still hated me for what I am. When I brought it up, or if someone knew they would avoid me. The only people that don't do that is people from my race, my sisters, and my S.T.A.L.K.E.R colleagues. Thanks to my race I couldn't get any job other than being a field agent outside of my species territory since the other species were reminded of the entities that came from the rainfall events everytime they saw us. Thus I worked for research institutes or secret societies as a freelance survey agent/S.T.A.L.K.E.R in B.E.A.R zones because of my species tolerance to Borsch radiation, and high survivability.” When I heard that, it made me feel bad for her. And quite honestly made me want to stick with her more out of pity.
“Want a hug?” I offered. She laughed.
“Sure after we arrive at the city.” She humored me.
“So how about you? What happened after you left?” She asked me. Now that I think about it. 4 years were a blur to me. All I remember was studying, and being alone most of the time. Other than that. The 4 years were basically trips.
“Well. My life went downhill. I followed my dream to be an astronaut and become an adventurer of the stars yet I failed. Everytime I tried to apply to NASA, they always rejected me. Years after years of applications rejected. Even though I both excelled in academics and physical fitness the agency still chose other candidates. After that I gave up. My heart couldn't bare it anymore. So I tried to work for other corporations. But was turned down every step of the way since I was either too good or my expectations were too high for what they were willing to pay for me. Most companies even tried to guilt trip me despite them offering me wages that would've barely keep me afloat. Thus I had no where else to go than to work at a government agency since it was the highest paying job, with great benefits I could find. Thus I worked at the FBI. The department of unusual incidents. Though my work was mostly doing debugging, fixing vulnerabilities, and sorting out papers every once in a while.”
“But everytime I sorted out papers they would give me some sort of pill that would make time fly for me. Honestly I don't remember much from those paper filings but it took a lot of time, and drained the hell out of me. It was tedious, with very strict deadlines. Eventually making me hate the bureaucracy since it wasn't in my pay grade to sort things out for them. There was a dedicated division for that but was severely understaffed. Even my division was severely understaffed. The only division that was fully staffed is the counter terrorism division which handled field operations. I don't really know much about the counter terrorism division, and the things I remembered are mostly they make arrests or investigate unusual incidents too unusual for even the other FBI departments.” I told her. Honestly thinking about it, the more I remembered the more I think I was miserable there. I couldn't help but sigh, and look at my hand.
“So that's why you posted those posts about your frustrations. You couldn't find any outlet, and decided to scream into the void.” She's….. right…..
I couldn't help thinking that I felt like my self deprecating humor was a way to cope. A way to voice out my frustration in humor.
“Heh…… your right…..”
“I couldn't find someone to talk to so I coped by other means. Making myself laugh whilst internally I was in turmoil at how frustrating my life was. Always burnt out, and devoid of the passion I wanted to work with.” Saying that made me feel… vulnerable…. Emotions of sadness, rage, and yet… happiness.
Sad about how my life was wasted, spiteful and rageful at how everything turned out, and happy that I had someone to be vulnerable with. Happy to talk it out without having a person to shove my self esteem out like some of the therapists I talked to. Happy that someone understood, and didn't immediately start to chew me down. Blaming me for the life I've lived even though I had no say with most of my life. In some ways some parts of therapy made me feel even worse.
Some part of me wanted to hug her…. yet I feel like it would be inappropriate. Hmm .. Now that I think about it…
I never opened up like this before. Some part of me was relieved that i was heard, another was insecure, seemingly paranoid that she'll just use me, and discard me the moment I had no use to her anymore. I don't know why that is… but it feels… just like it. Like I was some sort of doll being repaired over and over again by it's owner.
I shrugged. No point in dwelling in that. I have nothing waiting for me at home. No family, no friends…
Just crippling loneliness only alleviated by endless distractions, manic humor, and fake people hiding behind consumerism to alleviate the sense of meaninglessness brought by the modern world. God it feels so absurd. I feel like a stranger brought into another world where things are the same yet so different at the same time. I wonder. How whimsical are the other worlds? How is it different from the world I came from?
Aliens, humans all the same things. These are just people. Of a different species with different aspects, yet one aspect unites them all.
Self awareness, and sentience.
A deafening silence lingered in the air. Caused by my own words.
“I feel you. Despite the universe being filled with whimsy, and the occult. It's mundane. Absurd even in it's irony. Despite being whimsical, people want a mundane life. Makes you want to side with the anarchist coalition. But those are just idealists. Thinking that people want whimsy and freedom rather than safety, and stability.”
“I want to live in a world where I'm free. Free to choose whimsy, and fantasy rather than depressing, and devoid of passion replaced by the mundaneness of the modern world where the magic of reality is hidden behind secret societies, and where it only benefits the few. Where the anomalous become a part of life, and things or people like me aren't hated for what we couldn't choose.” Nau said, seemingly agreeing with what I said. A moment later she laughs in a way similar to that of someone who's lost it all. She sighs, and suddenly begins to hum a tune.
“La, lala, lala, lala, La, lala, lala, lala.” Suddenly snow began to fall as she continued to hum the tune. Whilst humming the tone, she looked upon the skies only to see snow began to fall.
“Beautiful isn't it?” she said, before continuing to hum the tune. I looked upon the snowfall. Whilst looking at it, it reminded me of my childhood. It felt whimsical. Reminding me of a nostalgic time. Made me feel like a kid again. I chuckled. I then took off my mask temporarily. Out of habit I stuck out my tongue, jokingly yet seriously wanting my life to return to a more nostalgic time. Right after that wore it back on.
“That's magic. Specifically sympathy magic. Where music is a part of the casting process of magic. Where it uses emotions from music to cast magic and embues the emotions on reality. Often it is called another thing.”
“The magic of the scene.” I then swallowed the snow, making me feel somber, and carthertic.
“You can feel it too. The magic can make you feel…..”
“What the caster feels.”
“To why God made it as it is. He only said to us is experience without emotion is hollow and refused to elaborate. To this day we still don't know what that means. The living reality is really cryptic. The eternal monarch. Often he explains things through poetry, and references in history. Even if we only knew that history thanks to him. He oftens say the sweetness of reality is found in the sobering and emotional experiences.”
“Is there really a God? If so why didn't he just try to fix it all? Isn't God supposed to be benevolent?” She laughed at my words.
“More like a spectator. He tried to be benevolent but it only led to more problems. So he let it all be. When he tried to fix everything it only led to more suffering.”
“No matter what he did, the old civilization he so cherished so much crumbled to dust. In a world where God exist he is powerless to the consequences of his actions. Everything has consequences. Whether he liked it or not. That's just how reality is. Despite having sway on reality, it still had some consequences that one cannot undo lest more consequences come. The story of the eternal monarch, and the God inside the machine is quite tragic. Two lovers broken by the world that cared nothing about them.” She laughs again whilst trying not to cry.
“tsk. Hahahhaahha!”
“What's so funny?”
“It's so ironic. Gods who symbolized omnipotence towards reality broken by the thing they lorded over. They are the embodiments of concepts. Yet the concepts they embodied and lorded over still held sway on their lives.”
“No matter who you are. Reality shows no mercy.” Suddenly she started to cry, and laugh at the same time. Seeing her like this made me feel bad for her. What made her into this? What broke her to this point? The whole thing was both awkward and cathartic.
“Want a hug?” I offered.
“Sure…. Hahahhahah!” She said whilst laughing, and crying. I hugged her. When Nau noticed it, she caressed my hair. It was an awkward two minutes before she talked normally again.
“Um…. I'm sorry…. I kinda said too much…” tears fell on my head, and I let go.
“Feel better?” I asked, and she nodded whilst snickering to herself similar to that of someone laughing to seeing something so absurd.
“If you want you can always cry on my shoulders.” I offered her. She smiled, and looked upon the azure skies.
“Fine…” She smiles, she then jokingly leaned on my shoulder whilst driving. I started to sweat bullets from it. Nau quickly lifted her head from my shoulders, and focused on the road, smiling as she did it. For the next 13 minutes we sat there in silence until we arrived at Kashuna.
Towers adorned the horizon. Towers that would dwarf the burj khalifa adorned the surrounding. Shops littered the streets selling food, appliances, etc. And people of multiple species walked around side by side, along with humans and humanoid constructs. Robots that looked human but clearly distinct by the way their body is constructed. Some had prosthetic looking bodies akin to that of something you'd see in cyberpunk or the original ghost in the shell. There's also some constructs that had ears or limbs similar to that of earth animals. Most I'd see was ears and tails similar to that of fluffy animals. Some even had prosthetics with sharp looking nails. The attires were even more of a hodgepodge of different cultures, and ethnicities. Some wore traditional Chinese attire, some Hindu, some east Asian, some south east Asian, some Russian, some European, and some modern American. The sight in front of me was interesting.
“What's with them?” I asked, finally breaking the 13 minute long silence.
“Oh the constructs? Those are humans put into homunculus. Souls who has been extracted from their body using magic to be put in bodies they desired. They're often called transhuman but are generally used for warfare or fun. Often homunculi are used in order to kill those who are immortal in a sense. Even if their body dies the soul escapes, and basically makes a new body within days thus causing the perpetrator to live Scot free. Basically just executioners in a law enforcement sense. Only something dead is allowed to kill or shatter a soul to the point of destruction. These people are either dead nor alive but technically dead. Biologically speaking they are just echoes. Echoes of memories of those that died. Lingering spirits who's will is strong enough to linger and have a sentience of their own akin of that of the living. That's just how the world works. It's the reason why could even fight against incursions and rainfall events in the first place. But those who die in these events generally have their souls shattered. Unable to be retrieved or pass on into the dark forest. The after life where the dead lie stuck in a world where they can experience the life they couldn't experience for eternity. But sometimes it causes the soul to go insane. Thus tries to break out but loses their humanity or sentience in the process.”
“But if that exists why didn't just anyone try to destroy it?”
“God doesn't want to. The story of the broken God explains why he doesn't want to. He keeps clinging into the past. Whenever damage is caused to that plane he would always try to repair it. Even if it's completely destroyed he still recreates it. Even caused the destruction of that species. Historically speaking that has happened three times. Three species wiped off.”
“Why don't we just kill him?” She laughed before pausing, and answering my absurd question.
“A species tried that only for him to come back, and destroy said civilization.” Oh….
“Yet we still respect him. Despite him creating a place where we all end up, and go insane eventually it's not entirely a bad thing. It's just people generally go insane if stuck there in a long amount of time. It's just an unfortunate side effect. It's all for a good cause. It's not his fault for that. No matter what he did. He even modified souls multiple times yet everytime they would go insane sooner or later. It's just the consequences. But the means justifies the ends for him.”
“We have no say on what he does just as he has no say on what we do.”
“The monarch was always a tragic figure. An idealist, and an idiot. And we love him for it.” She snickered whilst saying that last line. A few moments later she stopped, and parked the car. Nau then pulled out her phone, and started to do something with it.
“Well let's go the venue. You'll love what your going to see.” She said, smiling at me as she said that, it made my heart melt. I left the car, and she held my hand making me flustered. The both of us walked towards the parade whilst holding hands. When we finally arrived there, a large amount of people gathered around guard rails. Five minutes later the sound of drums, and people singing echoed around the block.
“Why can't we be friends?” <4x!> The sound of multiple accents singing echoed through the air. Suddenly on the skies a rainbow appeared. Is this the same magic Nau described and used?
Also are they singing why can't we be friends?
“I seen you around for a long, long time I remembered you when you drank my wine!” Humans wearing cloaks, and gasmask wearing UN insignias and another faction with an insignia of a flaming torch sang together laughing and smiling under the masks. Something you can notice by the way their eyes look.
“Why can't we be friends?” <16x!> The people around me smiled, and laughed enjoying the parade.
“I seen you walking down in Chinatown I call you but you could not look around!” A bunch of people with thick Chinese accents sang together.
“Why can't we be friends?” <16x!>
“I pay my money to the welfare line I see you standing in it every time!” Some soldiers with thick Louisianian, Texan, and New Yorker accents sang together making me chuckle. The differing accents made it so funny for me.
“Why can't we be friends?” <16x!>
“The color of your skin don't matter to me As long as we can live in harmony!” People with Russian, Chinese, British, Indian, French, and American accents sang together.
“Why can't we be friends?” <16x!>
“I'd kinda like to be the president So I can show you how your money's spent!” A bunch of American soldiers sang together, trying their best not to laugh.
“Why can't we be friends?” <16x!>
“Sometimes I don't speak right But yet I know what I'm talking about!” A bunch of soldiers with thick Russian accents sang making the scene even more funnier.
“Why can't we be friends?” <16x!>
“I know you're working for the CIA They wouldn't have you in the mafia!”
“Why can't we be friends?” <16x!>
“Why can't we be friends? I want to be your friend. Why can't we be friends? I want to be your friend.”
“Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends?”
“WOOOHOOOO!!!” The crowd around me cheered with a round of applause. Seemingly enjoying the performance of the army. Next above us a squadron of giant mechs flew by, seemingly partaking of the festivities. A moment later the squadron of high flying mechs fired a barrage of confetti. A moment later another squadron dropped a few mechanized spider unit with artillery strapped to it. Some sort of robotic quadrupedal tank. It's eyes glowed blue as it activated.
“Yes! Chaikovsky baby!” An alien speaking English said. The crowd cheered on. A moment later a symphony started and a bunch of constructs holding instruments gathered on the streets and started to play chaikovsky’s 1812 overture. The constructs marched to the beat for the whole durations. The people enjoyed their performance.
Suddenly the guns on the mechanized units fired as the iconic part of The 1812 overture played. The sound of artillery echoed as the units fired their guns. Thankfully it was just blanks, and didn't shower us with broken glass shards. The people cheered even more as they saw the artillery on the mechanized spiders fired.
The sound of people cheering drowned my ears with tinnitus almost deafening me. Right beside me Nau was enjoying the show. A genuine smile plastered on her face. Right after this the performance marched further, and further into the city. She tugged on my hand, wanting me to come with her to follow the parade.
The next performance was another song. But unlike the last songs it was sobering.
“This one is for our fallen. To those who've died in our war against those that threaten our ways of life.” A moment later a piano, and violins started to play.
A beautiful looking construct appeared amidst the formation of musicians. “It only takes one lone soul, it only takes one in a thousand.” Oh.. oh I remember this song! This was tranquility! I heard it from an anime I used to watch during my teenage years. Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu: Die Neue These. The legends of the galactic heroes. Gosh. That's a throwback….
“No, that's not bravery
As children we learn it's wrong
To put out the light of another
Our innocence lost over time
A means to an end” Hearing those words felt so healing. It put me both in a good and cathartic mood. It felt like my soul was being soothed.
“It's hard to hold your head up high, But we must try” suddenly the banging of bass dropped. Two beats, next one beat. It repeated.
“Sway together in the dark It's supposed to be,
'Cause I want to know the end And you never ever need to fight
But you're fighting everyday And I don't know when your light will go out
Innocent crying child, The heart of your enemy”
“My heart to heart with the light And we always get along
Counting the stars in the sky Thinking why they have to die!
Just face to face we can hear A voice telling us it's wrong.
Counting the stars in the sky It was like a lullaby.”
“For sunsets I'll break the rules We learnt playing down in the heather
The secrets behind all the veils We just use other words
For freedom we make our charge For friendship we bare down on others
Can't one of you just calculate Tranquility?”
“It's hard to hold your head up high But we must try”
“Ah, ah, Ah, ah, Ah, ah”
“Sway together in the dark It's supposed to be
'Cause I want to know the end And you never ever need to fight
But you're fighting everyday And I don't know when your light will go out
Innocent crying child The heart of your enemy”
“Sway together in the dark It's supposed to be
'Cause I want to know the end And you never ever need to fight
But you're fighting everyday And I don't know when your light will go out
Innocent crying child The heart of your enemy”
“My heart to heart with the light And we always get along
Counting the stars in the sky Thinking why they have to die!
Just face to face we can hear A voice telling us it's wrong
Counting the stars in the sky It was like a lullaby….” The crowd cheered at the performance given to them. The performer bowed, smiling doing so. I was left speechless as the music made me feel so emotionally vulnerable. Yet it felt so good. It's a paradox. I then looked at Nau who was shedding tears at the performance. Right after this the music changed, and they started to march towards the final destination. Right now they were singing uptown funk and it started raining moonshine, and booze. The surrounding felt so funky, and lively whilst the song played. I took off my mask quickly, and gathered some drops of rain to taste. It literally tasted like beer, and a bit of moonshine.
Nau then pulled my arms, and followed the parade. Under the mask I smiled. I followed her. Whilst following the parade I saw one of the hatches of those spider mechanized units open only to see a person crawl off it. The person eerily looked like my father but the difference was his more grizzled face, and a scar on the left eye. He wore some sort of general or officer's uniform with a patch similar to those people wearing the torch insignia's. Looking closer the doppelganger had a more robotic body so it can't be him. He's probably just a look a like. Suddenly the person looked around, and eyed me directly. Looking surprised when he saw me. Suddenly his face turned to both anger, and pity. Like I just pissed him off like I reminded him of something. When our eyes locked at each other I could see his eyes burn with a fiery azure passion when he saw me. He then tried to pull something out of his pocket but stopped. Suddenly he muttered something. He then looked away, and crawled back into the unit.
After a while the parade finally arrived at the destination. The press gathered around the venue seemingly like someone important was going to make an appearance. Currently we were in front of an arena. But unlike your normal arena this one dwarved even the Olympic stadiums. It looks like some sort of simulation arena for wargames. Something akin to the tank triathlon which is held in large open fields where tank crews and commanders outmaneuver each other with their expertise, and tanks. NATO holds them, even the Northern Russian Artic Parliament (N.R.A.P) holds them.
“Hey! Nau! Over here!” Someone shouted amidst the crowd. I looked around only to be dragged by her. When she finally stopped someone greeted me.
“Well if isn't Kyruger. Long time no see.” A woman a little higher than Nau, and much more younger greeted me. She had light green hair, pristine almost gemstone looking skin that was almost transparent, with the same greenish eyes, but unlike her sister she was quite petite.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Oh yeah you must've forgot. Well I'm Catherine. You used to hang out with my older sister back in the day. You're quite a lucky guy. Big sis over here wai-” suddenly Nau covered her mouth.
“Shut it.” Cath gulped, and slowly nodded seemingly afraid of her older sister.
“Well How long have you, and my sister been dating?” She asked, and suddenly Nau elbowed me in the side. Ow that hurt.
“Well… For 5 months before she brought me here.” I lied, and Nau smiled maliciously. Oddly enough I was turned on by that smile. A moment later the speakers roared to life as someone was trying to make a speech.
“Hello our galactic neighbors. Hello, I Am G-4 Able. I'm quite honored to talk to you today. It's our 57th year since we were able to colonize a place, and our debut as regional power and a year after the armistice between the coalition, and the initiative. As you know the current affairs in human controlled territory between the coalition, and the initiative has warmed up. This parade has shown despite our differences we can still arrive at an agreement. Although in recent times the directive of the initiative has slowly changed. From multiple Borsch reactor meltdowns in Kazakhstan, and some parts in the Caucasus due to governmental mismanagement. I hereby rewrite the main directive of the initiative. Alongside the coalition our main directive has changed. From protecting the veil, to protecting what normalcy is left. I know. I know.” The people around us talked seemingly enamored by the local geopolitics of humans. I was also interested since this was world charging news.
“Humanity has always tried to suppress the knowledge of the anomalous but right now there are pressing matters. Keeping the veil is useless especially in the current information age that we found ourselves in. You already know that considering the Serpent's Maw leaks information about the anomalous. Currently A.I can't stop the spread of information, and unfortunately it has caused widespread confusion, and chaos in Earth. The Artic Parliament has already started to show signs of collapse, and eastern Europe has already fallen to widespread protests calling for freedom of information acts. To the foreign dignitaries I must ask you all for assistance in speeding up Project Dawn. Currently Project Dawn is nearly complete but it would take 3 more months for the civilian ships are made. And the other G-11 council members are currently worried that if we tried evacuating some parts of earth using military craft it would cause widespread chaos. Essentially causing confusion, and riots as barely anyone knows what's happening causing more casualties than needed.” Suddenly more people around me started to get worried.
“Shit. That's a bad thing….. the more people killed the more likely another large scale rainfall event happens.” I heard one of the people on the crowd say.
The skies suddenly reddened, and an unnatural aurora borealis appeared amidst the former clear skies.
“SHIT! RAINFALL EVENT!” The crowd panicked, and a stampede happened. People pushed each other killing some civilians in order to hide themselves from this ‘Rainfall event’.
“ATTENTION ALL INITIATIVE PERSONNEL! ACTIVE RAINFALL EVENT HAS BEEN DETECTED. CULL THE SIRENS! I REPEAT CULL THE SIRENS!” G-4 shouted through the speakers.
Around me, people pushed each other, afraid of what's to come. Some kept shouting, others crying, whilst some were trampled to death. Nau, and her sis were separated from me, whilst I was trampled.
My consciousness started to fade as people trampled over my body. Faintly I could hear the faint breaths of those who are being trampled to death. Some gasped for help, some cursed at the people that trampled them.
“Remember. Don't try to let yourself be seen by the sirens. Hide. Don't make a sound. Remember. Daddy loves you…” Dad ruffled my hair, and quickly rushed outside to distract the monsters outside. Before he left he locked the attic trapdoor. Gunshots echoed through the air.
"COME AT ME YOU SUICIDAL ECHOES! FUCK YOU!” Dad shouted.
Outside my father tried to fight off the creature made of azure liquids. Outside the demonic sounds of tormented souls screeching echoed. I looked out at the attic window, only to see him being swarmed by the azure monsters. Gunshot after gunshot he tried to fight them off.
"KILLL UUSSSSSSS!!!! PLEAAAASSSSEEEEEE!!!” When the gun finally ran out of ammo he quickly ran to try, and divert the monsters away from the house. But right after he tried this, the monsters lunged at him, and pinned him down, bludgeoning him. After a minute of struggle dad’s body went limp. Right after that happened the monsters threw up a viscous blue liquid, and shoved it to his throat. The moment this happened, his body convulsed, and he woke up. But unlike how he normally is, his eyes looked so depressed. He then laughed, and started to smash his head on the pavement only for him to heal the wounds. Suddenly he made a guttural roar.
“GRAAAAAHHHHHH!” A monster in the shape of my father screamed. Suddenly the monster that was formerly my father noticed me from the window, and made a B line towards me. I pointed a gun at the trapdoor. Footsteps echoed through the house. I stayed my best to stay silent but was found. The trapdoor shook as something tried to forcibly open it up. After a while of loud shaking the trapdoor finally broke. A bloodied head came through the door. The thing that was once my father now looked at me with a homicidal gaze. Both of our eyes locked with each other. He then made a guttural screech.
“D-don't come closer!” I shouted, my hands trembling. My child like hands shook as I was afraid, and didn't know what was happening. The figure’s eyes locked on to me, smiling creepily. A moment later the creature lunged at me. I pulled the trigger multiple times but the creature still mauled me even if it had taken lethal amounts of damage.
“Help….. me…..” As I was nearing my death, azure liquids leaked from the roof, and some of the liquid dropped into my mouth. The last thing I heard was something akin to glass shattering. Right after that my mind blacked out.
“When humans doubt God, they are considered to have independent selves...but what happens when a doll doubts its manufacturer?” I looked directly at the CCTV maliciously smiling at the fact that when mom sees this she would be distraught. She deserves it. She deserves all of the pain…. It was agonizing having your soul recreated. It was like being put together, and broken again. Over, and over. In the span of months. I was nothing but a doll to her. A doll to relive her nostalgia of the past. To relive a tragedy…
My dad pointed a gun on my jaw as per my request.
“Pull it.” I smiled as he pulled the trigger. A gunshot rang through the air. The last thing I saw was dad running away. His Human yet robotic like visage ran farther and farther from me. Smiling as the nightmare finally ended.
“I should've killed that bitch when I had the chance. Tsk. I should've known this would happen.” I groggily opened my eyes only to see the doppelganger of my dad pointing a gun at my head. He looked like he was ready to pull the trigger. I quickly got up, and tried to disarm him only to get shot in the liver. The parts of the gas mask I was wearing fell to the ground as what was left essentially is shattered from the stampede.
To my surprise I didn't bleed. He quickly grabbed a knife from a compartment in his arm, and tried to stab me in the neck. What the fuck.
My body quickly moved by its own, and disarmed him. I then tried to dislocate his arm. His metallic prosthetic arm showing cracks as I forcefully elbowed the prosthetic. He frowns.
Suddenly a gunshot rang through the air, and his shoulder fragmented.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL A CIVILIAN?! THERE'S SUPPOSED TO BE A SIREN ATTACK! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL A CIVILIAN?!” I looked behind me only to see Nau holding a dragonov. She quickly fired another shot but was blocked by his knife.
“Tsk. You have nothing to do with this. Stop this foolishness.”
“What are you talking about?” He laughs. Whilst he was distracted I tried to get his gun but was quickly elbowed on the neck, numbing it, and making me feel nothing and unable to move. Nau clicked her tongue, and started to shoot him.
“Fine… I'll finish this later…”
“I'll free you from the nightmare….”
“Son.” He quickly ran away, but before he fully retreated he shot me in the left eye. Plastic, glass, and metal shattered, and scattered as the bullet ricochet. A large steel ding was heard because of this. Similar to that of a bullet hitting a steel target and ricocheting.
“Are you o-” she paused as she noticed the glass shards that shattered as my eyes were hit by the bullet fragments.
“I should've known…. Something wasn't right when I slipped some part of me inside of you.”
“Say what now?”
“Nothing.” She quickly tried to carry me but temporarily put me down to put the gun away. She quickly consumed the gun. Oddly enough I thought that was hot. I wish I was the gun….
God I'm starting to develop a vore fetish aren't I? Right after that she grabbed my shoulder, and piggyback carried me.
“Try your best to hang on to dear life, okay?” I faintly nodded. But as I nodded some sort of fluid flowed out of my left eye hole. Right after that my body started to heat up even more.
“Crap you're leaking coolant.” She quickly ripped part of her clothes and shoved those onto my left eye.
“Hang on. I'll try my best to get to a nearby evac zone.” Suddenly in the distance the same screams of the damned echoes through the air. She gritted her teeth, and started to run whilst carrying my body. Whilst she was running. I noticed it started to rain.
“Shit! Another rain!” She quickly threw something up, and grabbed it. Some sort of weapon’s case.
She continued running, but faintly you could almost hear the sound of flowing water akin to that of a flash flood.
“Crap!” She quickly let go of me, and opened the weapons case. When she opened it a giant slab of steel with a muzzle akin to that of a miniature railgun prototype I read about in some article by the BBC back in 2041. Out of her hand, a large cancerous growth appeared. A reddish growth that when it bursted, chunks of reddish mold, and liquid popped like a balloon covering me with what looks to be mucus or blood.

Not sure what I hope to get out of this post but I want to get some of my feelings out and I hope relate to someone here. I was posting years ago about my sa struggle on a different account. I remember how bad my life had been. I was riddled with anxiety and depression and I was a drug addict. With pills, alcohol, etc. whatever I could find to calm it down. Now at this point in my life I’m doing so so much better than I was when I was 18 or younger. I used to be afraid to leave my house, afraid to call someone, sometimes even afraid to text or even send an email, and not having any conversations with anyone. Definitely not without thinking about it for days. I’ve made it to a point where I can finally do these things with little to no second thought. I’ve got my self a good job and put myself out there. It’s took me years and years but I’ve slowly built something I can stand on. Some social skills that can carry me through life. Despite all that I feel I’ve hit a road block. I feel like I’m not 100 percent life everyone else and I’m not sure if I ever will be. I’m not a fan of talking, I still avoid social interaction and often times I put myself down whenever I get a chance. Although I’m learning to counter these thoughts. Recently I’ve given a couple presentations and talked in group settings. At work and at school. This has been incredibly hard. Talking in meetings isn’t too difficult, but getting to presentations, debates or discussions I’ve felt out of breathe, uncomfortable, often times studder and even forget what I’m saying. I’m utterly afraid of this experience. I could be cool as a cucumber before the event but as soon as everyone’s silent and all eyes are on me I freeze. I can start out alright but as time goes on I stumble over myself. Then the whole day I have a self degrading ceremony where I analyze my whole speech. I feel depressed after everytime I do public speaking. I’ve started to avoid these as I did my old social interactions. It feels like a throwback to my old life. I feel more depressed and reserved, plus I can’t stop thinking about how bad I failed it. I don’t know how many people here deal with this, but it hurts my heart. I feel like a failure even though I’ve made all this progress. I see how comfortable my colleagues, classmates, and other people appear to be and for me it’s just I haven’t caught up.

Hello everyone, GrimaIsBestWaifu here. As you might know, I am a massive fan of Book IV and its characters. Today marks around four years since I officially came around to Book IV after initially being a hater. Needless to say, as a Book IV nerd and enthusiast, I secured a copy of FEH's second art book at the first opportunity in order to further immerse myself in my passion. While it's an illustrations book first and foremost, I found the most value in the sections that went into detail about the lore, story, and characters of Books IV and V (but mostly IV, heh).
As of today, there is no official English version of this book, so non-Japanese readers are limited in how much information they can glean from it. This is a tragedy I can't abide, being heavily invested in FEH's story and wanting others to be able to appreciate it too, despite its flaws. There is also a decent chance that some information contained in this book will be changed or omitted in the official English version, so in that event I hope this might serve as an attestation to the "original" version. In this post, I intend to go over the section that describes the events that take place in Book IV's story. To see my translation of the section of the art book that expounds on Book IV's lore and characters, go here.
Disclaimer: I am not a native Japanese speaker, nor am I fluent in the language. English and Japanese are very different languages, so I will do my best to make things flow nicely in English while retaining as much of the original meaning as possible. Italicized text indicates my own speech, words that do not come from the book. The book's story recap is also told in past tense, but I use present tense in my translation here because I think it flows better and is easier to understand.
Chapter 1: The Dream One day, Alfonse and the others are summoned by Queen Henriette. According to her, an inexplicable incident has occurred in one of Askr's border villages in the wheat country where all its residents have fallen asleep. All efforts have been exhausted in attempting to save the sleeping villagers, who appear to be having nightmares, but none awaken. Henriette tasks them with investigating the sleep sickness there. The Order of Heroes complies, and after entrusting them with the Redolent Censer, she sends them off to the village with a smile. On the way to the village, Loki appears before the party and speaks in a way suggesting she may know something about the sleep sickness. It's possible she is planning something yet again...Alfonse and the others cautiously forge ahead.
As the Redolent Censer continuously burns with poison-nullifying incense, they arrive near the village. Sharena feels at ease and expresses gratitude towards her mother, who gave them the treasure in order to protect them. But in that moment of relaxation, she lets out a big yawn. Anna scolds her before stifling a yawn herself. Upon noticing this, Alfonse and Kiran are also beset by a fierce drowsiness, rendering them incapable of standing. By the time they realize the censer is ineffectual, it's already too late, and they are unable to resist closing their eyes...
Alfonse is with Henriette, along with Zacharias and Veronica. He is confused due to only having vague memories about why they are on a mission together. Suddenly, Zacharias attacks Henriette and corners Alfonse alongside Veronica.
Then, a girl abruptly appears and envelops the surrounding area in a dazzling light by reciting an incantation and prayer, causing Zacharias and Veronica to disappear. As Alfonse is yet again confused by the situation, the girl smiles brightly and says, "I'm Peony! I'm a ljósálfr—or light elf, you might say. I'm from the land of dreams, Ljósálfheimr." (This quote is transcribed from the official ENG script and is not a direct translation of the book's text, which uses the JP quote)
Chapter 2: Missing You (JP: One Person, Missing) The dream realm, álfar... Peony puffs out her cheeks when Alfonse cannot believe his ears. They regroup with Sharena and Anna, but Kiran is nowhere to be found. Even after following Peony's advice and trying to bend the dream world to their wishes, Kiran remains missing. Peony guides the party in their search for Kiran, claiming that the Dream-King Freyr could help.
While on the move, they fight off soldiers of nightmares, who are born from the fears of mortals and take on the forms of Heroes. Sharena also speaks with Peony about possibly having met before somewhere in the distant past. Peony responds that it might have been in a dream, and the two smile at one another, since they are quite similar and it appears they will get along well.
There a girl appears with black wings fluttering. She turns out to be Triandra, the Nightmare. As a dökkálfr from the realm of dark dreams, she is giving mortals nightmares under her liege's orders. Alfonse and the others confront Triandra when she tries to erase (In JP, the word for "erase"/"extinguish" is frequently used in place of "kill" when pertaining to the álfar) Peony. Triandra withdraws after being put at a disadvantage, stating that she won't give up.
Peony leads the group to a location with a large bed(s). Sleeping in a dream is the way to gain an audience with the Dream-King, so Sharena and Anna fall asleep. Before following their lead, Alfonse notices that he can't remember his childhood very well. Though that disquiets him, he nevertheless trusts Peony and closes his eyes. Peony is overjoyed at their faith in her as she watches them.
(In the ENG version, Sharena mentions that there are "many" beds, but the JP version doesn't make any indication of their number. Due to the fact that this art book previously mentions THREE adults being able to fit on one, it's possible that Alfonse, Sharena, and Anna all slept on it at the same time and that there is only one. However, the possibility that there are multiple of them remains open)
Chapter 3: Gullinkambi (JP: Horn of Gullinkambi) Alfonse and the others arrive in the realm of fantasy, the dream within the dream, by Peony's invitation. There stands Dream-King Freyr, who gives Alfonse the horn Gullinkambi. By remembering one's self from before falling asleep, wishing to return to the waking world, and blowing the horn, Alfonse and his party, along with the wheat country village's residents, can awaken. However, Freyr continues, stating that they must first drive back the two dökkálfar who have invaded Ljósálfheimr and are showing mortals nightmares. While offering his thanks, Alfonse asks about Kiran's whereabouts. However, even though he should know everything about the dream world, Freyr does not know where Kiran is, them being one who exists outside of the world's reason. He advises them that should they blow the horn, Kiran will also awaken. Thus, the party wakes up from the dream within the dream in order to begin their march and fight the dökkálfar.
The group traverses the dream realm following Peony's lead. Suddenly, Kiran appears before them. Though Alfonse and the others are relieved to see them, they halt in their tracks upon spotting who was next to them. "I am Plumeria, the dökkálfr of lewd dreams." (Again from ENG script)
Plumeria attacks the group along with nightmare soldiers that take the forms of Heroes from "Genealogy of the Holy War". Alfonse and the others fight them off, but Kiran also withdraws as if accompanying Plumeria. Peony states that this is because Kiran has been trapped by the dökkálfar's nightmares. Alfonse clenches his fist tightly, swearing to get Kiran back.
Chapter 4: On Dark Wings (JP: The Fluttering of Black Wings) The two dökkálfar show nightmares to mortals in Ljósálfheimr under their liege Freyja's orders. While Plumeria makes her disdain towards humans known, Triandra shows signs of concern towards Peony, who is her opposite in role.
The party continues traveling across Ljósálfheimr by following Peony's slightly dubious directions in pursuit of the dökkálfar. Anna and Alfonse can't wrap their heads around the actions they take in the dream world that would be illogical in reality. Suddenly, Sharena's gaze falls on a certain field of flowers. She says she remembers playing with girls her age in a flower field in a dream. She also remembers there being a girl similar to Peony, but Peony herself doesn't seem to recall this.
The party arrives at the Dream Gate, where the dökkálfar along with soldiers of nightmares lie in wait. They take up their weapons and repel the dökkálfar, after which Peony prompts Alfonse to blow the horn. Then, a crestfallen Peony bids them farewell, stating that they will forget about álfar like her, but that she will always watch over them, and she gives them a smile. Alfonse and the others close their eyes, trusting that they will meet again in a dream someday.
As the sound of the horn reaches Freyr's ears, his sister Freyja appears before him. Her true objective is to take her brother to Dökkálfheimr, over which she rules, while he is defenseless after handing off the horn. Were the Dream-King to leave Ljósálfheimr, order would be disrupted and nightmares would begin to flow into the mortal world and become reality. Freyja burns with jealousy upon witnessing her brother worry over the humans. Thinking to recompense them for stealing her brother's heart, her smile widens.
Chapter 5: Twisted Reality (JP: Distorting World) Alfonse wakes up to the smell of incense. Apparently, contrary to how much time they'd perceived, only a moment has passed in reality. While the other members of the Order confirm that everyone is fine, Alfonse notices that Kiran is missing. But strangely, Sharena and Anna cock their heads when he says Kiran's name. "The summoner of legend was called Kiran, right?" (ENG)
Alfonse is shocked when it doesn't appear to be in jest, based on Anna's tone of voice. Just then, an earth-splitting laugh rings out. The party prepares for combat, only to find that there stood Surtr, the king of Múspell who should've in the past been defeated. Though shocked, Alfonse faces off against Surtr, who ends up vanishing like the Zacharias and Veronica from in the dream. As the villagers awaken, unidentified troops are reported to have appeared in various places. Alfonse heightens his vigilance, suspecting that nightmares are manifesting in reality, as the group moves to eliminate those forces.
Though Sharena really can't remember Kiran, her gaze wavers from a profound sadness welling up inside. Alfonse cheers up his sister by swearing to do something about the situation. If nightmares can be defeated in the dream, they can be defeated in reality... Under this presumption, the Order marches on and discovers Peony being attacked. After rescuing her, she successfully uses her power to make Sharena and the others recall their lost memories. Then, Peony informs them that nightmares have been able to flood into the real world because Freyr has been taken to Dökkálfheimr, the nightmare realm.
Chapter 6: Dreaming Reality (JP: Dreams in Reality, Reality in Dreams) According to Peony, Freyr's sister Freyja is in Dökkálfheimr, and because they are in the same place simultaneously, the "Waking Dream" is allowing nightmares to spill into reality. In order to put a stop to the Waking Dream, the group searches for a ljósálfr who lives in a misty forest...Mirabilis, the Daydream. On their way to the forest, they encounter the real Veronica. After finding out about the situation and what the Order's objective is, Veronica states that she will come along. She says this is because she heard that her brother, Bruno (Zacharias), and Xander have returned from their travels and are now in the misty forest.
After the party arrives at the forest, they split up in search for Zacharias, Xander, and Mirabilis. Parting ways with Sharena and the others, Alfonse and Veronica venture deep into the forest and find the former two. Veronica smiles upon being reunited with her brother after such a long time apart, but her shoulders slump when she hears that he and Xander must soon leave again. She faintly smiles again when Zacharias invites her to join them, stating that he doesn't want to make her feel lonely anymore. Seeing this, Alfonse asks Zacharias if they could work together to fend off the nightmares. Apprehensively, he agrees, to which Alfonse continues. "...Thank you. As I thought, you aren't really Zacharias. [...] You said something you shouldn't already know." (This quote is a translation of the JP, since I feel the ENG line doesn't fit as nicely in this context)
At this, Zacharias and Xander's attitudes change. After repelling their assault, Veronica declares her cooperation with the Order. She then urges Alfonse to tell her about his memories of being with Zacharias. However, he realizes that he cannot remember anything from long ago for some reason.
Chapter 7: Steeped in Twilight The Order of Heroes realizes the severity of the situation that has befallen them after hearing that nightmares have reportedly been appearing unceasingly across Askr. They head deeper into the forest in search of Mirabilis so they can go to Dökkálfheimr, save Freyr, and eliminate his captors. After the scenery becomes blurry for a moment, Peony searches the surrounding area and happens upon Mirabilis. She rubs her eyes, appearing to be sound asleep. Peony pleads with her, wanting to get to Dökkálfheimr by way of Mirabilis' daydream powers. Just then, Triandra appears, the dökkálfar having also invaded the real world. She creates a nightmare embodiment of Hel, ruler of death. After defeating it, with Mirabilis in tow, the group departs in the direction of the point of twilight, which is close to Dökkálfheimr. Along the way, Sharena is bothered by a feeling that she has also met Mirabilis in a dream in the past. She believes that she, Peony, Mirabilis, and two other girls did something important together.
Eventually, they arrive at the point of twilight. It seems that here, they can cross into the nightmare realm by being given a "particularly scary daydream" by Mirabilis when day gives way to night. However, Triandra attacks them once more. Soldiers of nightmares come at them without end as they are surrounded by the sea with nowhere to run. Veronica calms the others down as they panic, stating that she will handle their pursuers on her own while they go on ahead. The last time they were in the dream world, only a moment passed in reality. Because of this, Alfonse and the others believe they will make it in time, so they close their eyes and make their way to the nightmare realm.
Chapter 8: Wallowing in Love (JP: Drowning in a Dream of Love) The group ventures into Dökkálfheimr. They are quickly met with Plumeria, who mystifies them with a bewitching sweet scent, but they somehow manage to fend off her attack. While in pursuit of a retreating Plumeria, Alfonse hears the voice of a sad young girl. However, he doesn't know whose voice it is, and the group marches on.
After catching the gentle scent of flowers whose fragrance is different from that of Plumeria's nectar smell, Sharena mentions that she remembers it. She claims it's the smell of the flower field in which she played with the other girls in her dreams. She then recalls swapping hairstyles and clothes with one of the girls who greatly resembled her, and even going to each other's homes. Anna is startled, thinking this sounds like a "changeling". As Anna explains how changelings are álfar who switch places with human children, Sharena listens with an absentminded countenance.
Plumeria again stands in the party's way, accompanied by nightmare soldiers modelled after Heroes from the "Awakening Outrealms", as they hurry to Freyr's side. However, the Order emerges victorious once again and goes on ahead. While wounded in her defeat, Plumeria hears the voice of a young girl crying for her mother, which she remembers. There, Freyja appears and grants her strength, healing her. After rising to her feet, Plumeria asks if she was a mortal before Freyja gave her life as an álfr. Freyja's expression clouds over, and she tells Plumeria that her father didn't love her or her mother, so he abandoned them. And because her daughter interfered with her desire to be with another man she loved, Plumeria's mother threw her into the bottom of a well and left her there.
By Freyja's words, Plumeria was a child nobody loved. But now, after drinking the nectar and becoming an álfr, she should just forget about that past. Her voice filled with compassion as she speaks, Freyja gives Plumeria a smile.
Chapter 9: Violent Fantasies (JP: Dream of Killing Someone) (Curiously, the recap begins with the events of Chapter 9 - 3, skipping over the first confrontation with Triandra in this chapter)
The queen of nightmares, Freyja, has abducted her beloved brother Freyr to her realm. With an ecstatic expression, Freyja declares that they shall fill the mortal world with their dreams. Freyr is dismayed, lamenting that Freyja originally didn't wish for the destruction of humans and that the two of them have already succumbed to ruin. He regrets turning human girls into álfar in order to drive back the disaster that befell the dream world in the past, when mortals gave up their dreams. Burning with jealousy over his constant concern for mortals, Freyja clenches a certain necklace.
Alfonse and the others rush to rescue Freyr, defeating Triandra, who stands in their way. As she stands up, saying that she can't yet afford to disappear (In a similar vein to what was mentioned above, the word for "disappear" is often used instead of "die" when pertaining to the álfar in JP), memories of her mortal past also pile up in her mind. Freyja appears before her, telling her that she and her younger sister were viciously abused by their non-blood related father. To protect her sister, who was in danger of losing her life, Triandra killed their father. Freyja assures her that she is not to fret over this, since she only did what she could. To this, Triandra quietly responds that she is alright.
Alfonse and the others finally reach Freyr. However, he has come under the curse of the necklace Brísingamen, and all of his dream powers have become Freyja's. With both of their powers in her grasp, Freyja has become the ruler over all dreams and is now able to freely control the dream world and bend reality itself to her whim. None are able to oppose her... Helpless against the unrelenting onslaught of Freyja's replicas and nightmare soldiers from all directions, the group falls back. However, the path leading back to Veronica has entirely vanished. "There is no way for you to survive. Taste despair in your attempts to escape." The nightmare queen sneers at them, exceedingly beautiful, (This line was very awkward to translate, I am sorry)
(To my knowledge, the quote used above doesn't actually appear anywhere in the Japanese script. It seems to just be a concise rephrasing of Freyja's dialogue at the end of the chapter)
Chapter 10: Lack (JP: Loss) The Order takes Freyr with them as they continue to flee. According to him, so long as Freyja is the ruler over all dreams, they can neither escape nor subjugate her. Even so, not wanting to give up, the group thinks of a plan. Just then, Freyr begins to tell of his and Freyja's past piece by piece. As a child, Freyja was always crying from being mocked by everyone over having a mark on her face. Freyr would steadfastly comfort his sister, who came to only smile for him. Then, she stated that she wanted to join herself to someone compassionate like Freyr when she grew older. She eventually matured to become beautiful, but didn't accept anyone's affections.
Sharena reassures Freyr along the way, to which Freyr confesses that the dream world once teetered at the brink of ruin. The only ones who could prevent the destruction of the dream world and save the hearts of mortals were children from the real world. But children who partake of dream nectar can no longer return to their world... Because of this, Freyr thought that perhaps if the children were in unfortunate circumstances, they would be happy to become special versions of themselves. He sacrificed innocent children in order to save the world even knowing it was sinful. After this, Freyr falls silent.
Their withdrawal fruitless, Freyja once again corners the Order of Heroes. Though she mocks them over their futile efforts, Freyr states that there is one way for them to escape.
"Freyja's power is the sum of our combined strengths... Therefore, one of us must be shed..." (ENG)
Freyr petitions the Order and offers himself up to them. Discerning his meaning, as Freyr can no longer manage to end his own life due to Freyja's control, Alfonse and the others cut him down.
Freyja cries out as she asks Freyr if mortals really are so precious to him that he would throw his life away for their sake. However, Freyr responds that nothing is more important to him than she is. It is because he loves her that he doesn't want to see her destroy the mortals, which is why he should disappear. Leaving her with those words, Freyr bids his sister farewell.
Freyja wails in sorrow and despair at the loss of her most beloved brother, after which she vanishes to some other location, bringing the dökkálfar with her. Due to Freyr's demise, dreams stop distorting reality. Now, they must wake up and return to their world. To grant Freyr's final wish, and to reunite with the missing Kiran...Alfonse and the others press onward.
Chapter 11: Plumeria's Dream (JP: Plumeria the Lewd Dream) The Order wakes up the the sound of Veronica's voice calling out to them. Just when they begin to relax, thinking everything is back to normal, Freyja appears before them. Chaos unfolds as everyone wonders how that can be, when nightmares shouldn't be able to encroach on reality anymore... The group is once again forced to engage in combat as they retreat. Freyja then tells them about the álfar's past as if to mock them. The álfar were originally human children who played together, who were called to the dream world in order to save it. She also describes how Mirabilis was a child who was abandoned by her mother after she was born. Finally, she tells of how among those children, the only one who didn't become an álfr was Sharena. Enveloped in Freyja's light, Sharena suddenly clutches her head in pain and faints.
After regaining consciousness at a boulder to which the group retreated, Sharena tells Alfonse that she now vividly recalls what happened in the world of dreams. "We wanted to save the world... Only...I stayed behind..." (ENG, but for curiosity's sake, the JP line goes "Only I wasn't able to become a hero...even though we said we'd save the world together...", which I think hits harder)
Sharena profusely apologizes with tears spilling from her eyes, saying that she might not really be Alfonse's sister. That she would play changelings with a girl who looked just like her, and that they would genuinely trade places upon waking. That she has memories of the small, run-down house in which the girl she'd exchange places with lived. That she might just be an ordinary child who swapped places with Princess Sharena in the dream world. And that as a consequence, the real Princess Sharena wasn't able to return home... Sharena appears discomposed as she suddenly recalls so many memories. Alfonse soothes her, saying that her memories of that house must have come from when she'd wake up as the other child.
Desiring to have them suffer like her after losing her brother, Freyja sends Plumeria after the group so the álfar will be made to kill each other. Plumeria follows her commands without saying a word and stands in the way of Alfonse and the others. She attacks them while looking like she is in tears...saying that she doesn't need reality, and that she wants to be in a dream forever. The party cannot hope to survive without fighting back so long as she continues to target them. Thus Alfonse and the others deal the final blow against Plumeria through their heartbreak. She grasps at the air and cries out for her mother over and over again like a small child as her body disintegrates. (I already felt really bad playing this story chapter in-game, but having this description makes it even worse...ow, my heart)
Even with Plumeria's defeat, the nightmares' assault does not relent. How can this be, when the Waking Dream shouldn't be able to occur with King Freyr dead? After assessing and reflecting on the situation one more time, Alfonse finally formulates an answer. "This has all been a dream... From the very beginning... Everything. All of it." (ENG)
They have been in a dream since the time they heard about the sleep sickness from Queen Henriette. If this is a dream, they should be able to return to reality this time if they blow the horn Gullinkambi in front of the Dream Gate. Alfonse marches on determinedly.
The Order takes a rest on the way to the Dream Gate. At their base, Anna reports to Alfonse about Sharena's condition after having stayed with her for a while. Afterwards, she begins to make small talk about a dream she had a little while ago about being a squirrel. She comments on how strange it is that she was convinced she was a squirrel in the dream, even though she isn't one... At this, Alfonse feels as though he is catching onto something.
Chapter 12: Triandra's Dream (JP: Triandra the Nightmare) Alfonse witnesses a daydream during the group's respite. A dream of the World of Steel, with towers stretching up high enough to pierce the skies. Peony calls it a grey world where people have forgotten how to dream. To make the álfar kill each other, Freyja sends out Triandra again. However, Freyja ponders why Plumeria and Triandra obey her orders without regard for how they are effectively being used and discarded. She asks Triandra why they would go so far as to throw their lives away in service to her. Triandra responds that she and Plumeria adore her, and that perhaps it is because mortals want to help those they care about even if they get nothing in return. Freyja shakes her head at this, being a god who doesn't understand this sentiment. She watches with a conflicted look in her eyes as Triandra departs.
Alfonse and the others fend off the advancing nightmares on their way to the Dream Gate. They are met with Triandra standing in their path, and upon seeing her, Peony's expression changes. Triandra speaks of how she could not forgive herself for being powerless to protect her younger sister as a mortal. Her dream was to obtain the power she desired in order to strike down those who would do evil. After she loses against the Order and collapses to the ground, having lost her power, she gazes at Peony and apologizes to her.
"Forgive me... I wanted to keep you safe just...a while longer..." (ENG) "...S-sister..." (ENG)
As Peony's words sorrowfully fall from her lips, Triandra's body disintegrates.
Led by Mirabilis, the group arrives before the Dream Gate at last. Following Freyr's instructions to "[p]icture the world outside the dream, and wish to return," (ENG) Alfonse sounds the horn, but for some reason, nothing happens. Alfonse goes over his thoughts once more, trying to figure out if there is something wrong with his thought process. Then, he remembers what Anna said a little while earlier. "If what I suspect is true...then the life I remember before the dream...is not my life at all..." (ENG)
Just then, Kiran appears before the Order. Alfonse is elated upon their reunion, but Kiran appears to be under the control of nightmares. With the help of Veronica and the others, he manages to render Kiran unconscious without killing them. By Peony's suggestion, they remove the hood that conceals their face. Under the hood of the collapsed Kiran...was unmistakably Alfonse's face.
Alfonse's suspicion is then confirmed. The reason why he couldn't recall his memories with Zacharias, and why he dreamed about the World of Steel, is because his past with Zacharias doesn't exist and the World of Steel is where he truly hails from.
"I am not Alfonse. [...] My name...is Kiran!" (ENG)
When they remember their true self, Freyja appears and tells them that they are having this dream because they wished for it. That Alfaðör, creator of all things, decided that Alfonse should no longer exist after he defeated Hel, sovereign of death. The Creator's will always comes to pass, and thus the real Alfonse is dead, so Freyja says.
Chapter 13: Reality Freyja continues, saying that Kiran gave form to this world and took on Alfonse's role out of grief over his loss. She claims that because Kiran is one who exists outside of the world's reason, if they combine efforts with Freyja, they could make the dream persist forever and have all their wishes come true. However, she declares that should Kiran choose reality, they will wake up in a world without Alfonse, and that she will use her power to take the lives of all of the álfar. With that, she disappears.
Peony states that because Freyja's nightmare powers still cover the area, they will be unable to use the horn. Even the álfar do not know if Freyja's pronouncement of Alfonse's death is the truth or a lie. A painful reality may await them... Holding onto that sense of unease, Kiran and the others head in Freyja's direction.
"Peony... My best friend, who I played with in the flower garden... That was you, wasn't it?" (ENG)
Sharena speaks with Peony, positing that Peony had switched places with her and drank her share of nectar because she knew there would be no going back to being human. Even so, Peony smiles, saying that making people happy was her own happiness. That neither of them know who was who originally, and that they are both each other, like two halves of a whole. If they defeat Freyja and return to reality, Peony and the other álfar will in turn be erased and the Order will forget about the dream. Sharena sobs over not wanting to lose a friend again. At this, Peony gives her a ring made of flowers. (It's a "chain" in ENG, but in JP it's described as a "指輪", as in a ring you put on your finger)
"[Even] if we do forget, that does not undo everything that's happened. [...] But if...if there's some way you can remember me, then maybe we can meet again someday, somehow..." (ENG)
Sharena and Peony join hands and nestle up close to one another as if in prayer.
On the other hand, Freyja's heart is swayed by emotions she cannot comprehend. Unconsciously, she begins to speak to Triandra and Plumeria, but both of them have disappeared in carrying out her orders. Though she insists that only her brother matters to her, as though trying to convince herself of it, her expression gradually clouds over. Kiran and the others eventually reach Freyja, and after defeating nightmare soldiers that appear one after another, Freyja herself finally falls as well. She disappears, leaving them with the proclamation that she will use all of her remaining power to erase everything about the álfar from existence.
The end of the dream draws near. The sound of the horn reverberates through the dream world. As she expresses her gratitude, Peony's form grows faint.
Kiran awakens to a voice calling their name, which turns out to be Alfonse's. He tells them that they, along with everyone else, had fallen asleep for three days and nights. Sharena seems to not remember anything and smiles as though nothing had happened. However, during their mission, Sharena discovers that she is wearing a flower ring on her hand. She is perplexed by this and clutches her chest, suddenly feeling like her heart is being torn apart. Then, someone claiming to be Sharena's childhood friend comes for a visit. Upon laying eyes on the person in question, her eyes tear up.
"Good morning, everyone! I'm Peony! I'm a ljósálfr—or light elf, you might say. I'm from the land of dreams, Ljósálfheimr." (ENG)
In Dökkálfheimr, Triandra and Plumeria, who should have disappeared, open their eyes. Before them stands Freyja, who tells them that they have no need to obey her any longer. Freyja's life fades away, having lost most of her power in reviving Triandra and Plumeria instead of erasing the álfar. She herself doesn't know why she did so even though she doesn't love anyone except her brother. In spite of this, she gave up her life for the sake of others, just like her brother had laid down his life for the mortals he so loved. Triandra and Plumeria vow to find a way to revive Freyja. The children weep as they grasp Freyja's hands, to which Freyja says that she truly cannot understand. Even so, she responds that she is happy and smiles gently.
And thus concludes the story of Book IV, neatly summarized as presented in the art book. I apologize for any inaccuracies in my translations and any confusion they might cause. This was an intensive passion project born from my love for Book IV, and I hope those who took the time to read this very long post found some enjoyment out of it. I would love to hear your thoughts, so please do share them if you so wish! I very much enjoy discussion about everything Book IV. Also let me know if there is any other material you'd like for me to translate, and I might make an attempt in the future. Thank you for reading!

Note that this is NOT in any way me trying to "toot my own horn." In fact, quite the opposite.
I was IQ tested when I was 5 or 6, and was found to have an IQ of 143. I excelled in almost all topics in school, was an avid reader, an award winning musician (piano and oboe), and was bright and witty. In the last 5 or 6 years, I've experienced what feels like to me significant and progressive cognitive decline including: speech delays (halting speech), poor word recall, poor working memory, and other related issues. I have several mental health diagnoses and have taken several different meds for varying periods of time over the last 14 years or so (happy to share either if needed). The issues seem to mostly effect memory and verbal issues. I.e., although the speed in which I can write seems affected, I still feel somewhat proficient at that. Also, the issues, while still present, are much less pronounced when I feel comfortable with the person I'm speaking to, or if I'm doing something by myself, which seems to indicate that at least part of the issues) are anxiety related.
I started having severe panic attacks about 9 years ago that continued steadily for about 6 years. They almost always happened in public, many while I was speaking with people I respected and/or loved (work colleagues and family), and were sometimes physically painful, but always debilitating and humiliating. There was also almost never a similar trigger, meaning that I had a deep feeling that nothing I would do or stop doing would help me to avoid them occurring or at least give me a "heads up" that I might have one. A lot of the cognitive issues I've mentioned began during the time I was having those panic attacks, but that also coincides with the times that I was on high doses of meds that are proven to cause cognitive decline while being taken (and for some, apparently, those cognitive issues remain after getting off the meds). I'm just trying to get some feedback from anyone who's had a similar experience, because I'm trying to determine the primary cause. I feel like if I can do that, I can find the best way to handle the situation!
The questions:

• Has anyone experienced significant cognitive decline or cog issues after taking a (or several) mental health meds once you have stopped taking them?
• Has anyone experienced significant cognitive decline that appears to be (or is indeed) directly related to panic attacks and/or anxiety?
• What about both??

TIA!

Greetings,
I’ll cut straight to it. My name is Dwayne and I am currently the Assistant (to the) Regional Manager at one of the most respected paper companies in Branton, Missouri. Other than my incompetent colleagues, I take pride in my work and one day hope to rule with 2 iron firsts (why would I just want one??).
The only thing standing in my way of reaching my rightful position as ruler of the local paper empire is my mortal enemy, Tim Kalpert. His mental capacity rivals that of a newly born goldfish and his looks although deceivingly ok, are ugly on the inside. I bet he has the lungs of an 80 year old and the gallbladder of a pigeon. And all the impress the branches receptionist, Sam. Which, I guess she isn’t too bad. I even tried setting her up with my cousin Bose, but he ended up shaving her cats tail. Which, in his defense, is considered a form of flattery in some cultures. But anyways, her loss, I doubt Tim would ever shave her cats tail to profess his love. God I hate him.
Anyways, my purpose here is simple. I’m looking for an adequate partner. I don’t have time for friends (I already have up to 4), unless ur willing to become subordinates. I’m looking for a lover. Someone who will carry the next line of my progeny into this world. I’m expecting the responses to be quite vast so do a good job of standing out.
Farewell common folk!
Dwayne Assistant (to the) Regional Manager

Throwaway for privacy reasons, and since I am not from an English-speaking country I want to apologize for the crimes I am committing against the language of Shakespeare in advance.
I got to know my boyfriend six years ago at a party, but we did not start dating until three years ago. He comes from what is an "old money" family in our country, but he decided to not finish university and became a firefighter in the city we live in instead. It's not a very big city, around 200 thousand people live here and in the general area. But he still has an ownership stake in family businesses so he is basically living off a portion of the dividends he gets. A couple years ago the department decided to have more of a social media presence in order to help with fundraising and raising awareness of various issues and he was asked to be the spokesperson narrating these videos because of his stature and manner of speech. Their content has become quite well known in local FB groups and he's also doing some of the reports on the city's TV channel so he's a become a bit of a local celebrity.
This has been already well under way when started dating and it's been kind of an issue for me from the beginning of our relationship because some older (35+?) women are into him. Like it's not just heart emojis under posts and things like that, they are sending nudes or suggestive texts to either the official or his personal account and at least once a week when out in public they try to openly flirt with him even with me being present. When I talked to him about this he just told me that he does not like it either but "it is what it is", it's not like he can just tell them off, but then I heard that he's joking about them with his colleagues, they would look at the photos and make comments on their appearance.
But I know that he loves me so I was not really bothered by this until the issue of kids came up. Both of us wants to have children, but then it occurred to me that I will likely be "fat" and not really desirable while being pregnant and immediately after it so my self esteem went into a downward spiral, I trust him not to cheat now or to search for another woman by himself but what if he gets attention from someone that's more attractive than me being pregnant? He started to notice that something is off but since he really likes his job I tried not to say anything. He tried to give me more attention and flowers than usual, not that I'd complain but he really went out of his way.
Yesterday we went to do grocery shopping and this other woman just so casually chats him up it just made me feel really angry and then when we got him I just exploded at him and I really did not mean to but I told him that he needs to quit his job or at least his role as spokesperson because this just makes me feel awful. He told me that even if he quit the genie is already out of the bottle so it would not really stop or at least not in a few years, but if we had a family with kids they'd likely not to do it as much. So I told him he can either have his job or we can have a family and went over to my sister's place where I am staying now. My sister and my friends told me that it was a really stupid thing to say and that I should just try to embrace it and post pictures of us together and just kind of shove the fact that we are together in people's faces. I also feel bad in retrospect because he's always been very nice to me and I couldn't bring myself to respond to his messages or return his calls yet.

"We are called, summoned to appear before two pathways. On the one, we hear Messaien and the musical messages of peace. On the other, Gavreau and the musical messages of war. And again we choose. And again we must choose. Whose music will it be?"
full text >>> http://www.zemos98.org/controlsonoro/2008/03/09/the-sonic-weapon-of-vladimir-gavreau/

Lost Science” by Gerry Vassilatos Limited permission granted to use this material in other presentations. ISBN 0-932813-75-5 © 1999
SIGNALS
He listened and closed his eyes as the rolling waves of sound poured over and through his being. Thrilling, intoxicating, the hysteria of heaven, the enthralled and frightening flight of angels. Electrifying. Messaien’s organ music signaled messages of meaning, titanic foghorns ululating among dimly perceived near-worlds. Olivier Messaien, master composer of musical expressionism, used the ground thrumming tones of great Parisian cathedral organs to evoke sensations, which may only be called otherworldly. Masterfully macabre. Black foundations, blue pillars, and rainbow ceilings.
Sound, rhythm, and space. Ultra-chromatic chord frames, rising like rock walls from the black depths. And immense stellar crystallizations, radiating tonal perfumes through deep and black radiant space. Lovely and lyrically swooping melodies, the flight of birds through delicate limbs. And melodic lines, reaching up toward unknown depths of space, each had their foundation in ultra bass tones of rooted depth. The basso profunda of Messaien are the critical foundations, the strong vertical pillars of an immense architecture, which extends beyond performance walls. He scoured the deep and unreachable roots of worlds to hold his musical cathedrals together. Such majesty and grandeur of sound! Rich in the intelligence, which flooded and made the world, the musical currents and the atmosphere of tones. Fluidic music and meaning.
The most fundamental signals, which permeate this world, are inaudible. They not only surpass our hearing, but they undergird our being. Natural infrasounds rumble through experience daily. There manifestations are fortunately infrequent and incoherent. Infrasound is inaudible to human hearing, being of pitch below 15 cycles per second. The bottom human limit. The plynth. The foundation. Infrasound is not heard, it is felt. Infrasound holds a terrible secret in its silent roar.
Infrasound produces varied physiological sensations, which begin as vague “irritations”. At certain pitch, infrasound produces physical pressure. At specific low intensity, fear and disorientation. Nazi propaganda engineers methodically used infrasound to stir up the hostilities of crowds who were gathered to hear their madman. The results are historical nightmares.
At a very specific pitch, infrasound explodes matter. At others, infrasound incapacitates and kills. Organisms rupture in its blast. Sea creatures use this power to stun and kill prey.
The swelling bass tones of the cathedral seem as though they can burst the very pillars, which uphold the ancient vaults. Stained glass windows have been known to erupt in a shower of colored fragments from the organ’s basso profunda. Impulsed ultrabass tones … thunder. Somewhere in the almost inaudible roll of these basement sounds there was a devastating and fearful power.
THUNDER
As thunderous tones deepen, their power seemingly intensifies over frail barriers such as glass windows. Certain abrupt thunder peals often shatter windows into tiny fragments. In the apparent absence of thunderous tones we may observe the strong and continuous vibration of glass windowpanes during storms. A sudden eerie silence, and the window is shattered before our eyes. Natural phenomena are prodigious generators of infrasound. The potent distal effects produced when natural explosions occur produce legendary effects. When Krakatoa exploded, windows were shattered hundreds of miles away by the infrasonic wave. Wind was not the causative agent of these occurrences, as no wind was felt or detected. Seismographic stations registered the blast, and barometers measured the shockwaves. The “ringing” of both earth and atmosphere continued for hours. It is believed that infrasound actually formed the upper pitch of this natural volcanic explosion, tones unmeasurably deep forming the actual “central harmonic” of the event. The island of Krakatoa was literally lifted into orbit in the fatal blast. Brilliant sunsets followed for many years thereafter, the sad memorial of all the souls who perished.
The power of explosives, in shattering and devastating property, lies in two zones. The first zone is that with which we are principally familiar; the actual blast site, where chemically released gases and metal fragments push back everything in their perimeter. The second less familiar zone extends very much further from the blast site than can be imagined. It is in the powerful sonic wave, which expands outward that an equally destructive danger lies. Thick pressure walls of incredible momentum, inters paced with equally thick walls of reduced air pressure, travel far away from the blast site. The blast site is the small destructive zone by comparison. Few objects can survive this destructive tide.
Analysts contend that infrasound is composed of a very broad band of pitches. These tones of immense pressure and duration “accommodate” themselves when encountering resonant cavities. All such resonant cavities are “found and destroyed” when the proper pressure waves flow into their resonances. Rooms, halls, alleys, spaces among buildings, courtyard areas, cellars, subways, sewer chambers; all these burst open into flying fragments when infrasonic waves flood them. Infrasound is the cruel tonal giant, tearing open whatever it finds in its path.
Study reveals that the sudden shock wave of an explosion propels a complex infrasonic signal far beyond the shattered perimeter. Incoherent though such shockwaves may be, their destructive influence dissolves distant walls and windows seconds after the shrapnel has done its deadly work. Objects of all shapes, sizes, and compositions explode when the infrasonic impulse passes through their space. No shield can block infrasound. Physicists have studied the refuse, which remains after an explosive charge has been detonated. Few materials can maintain their integrity. Those objects, which manage to survive explosions, are noteworthy as infrasonic “resistors”. Screen reinforced concrete does not easily succumb to the infrasonic blasts of explosive charges.
EARTHQUAKE
The sound of Krakatoa exploding up into space, a vertical excess of one hundred miles, succeeded in blasting out windows at a thousand mile radius from the epicenter. Certain earthquake activities produce large and virtually insensate vertical displacements of the ground surface, in extreme instances amounting to a few feet per pulse. In this case, the ground becomes the surface of a drum, ringing out its deadly cadence at infrasonic pitch hours before the event. The ground undulates with infrasonic tones, an elasticity that eventually cracks under the heaving stress.
Ultra low pitch earthquake sounds are keenly felt by animals and sensitive humans. Quakes occur in distinct stages. Long before the final breaking release of built up earth tensions, there are numerous and succinct precursory shocks. Deep shocks produce strong infrasonic impulses up to the surface, the result of massive heaving ground strata. Certain animals (fish) actually can hear infrasonic precursors. Precursory shocks are silent, being inaudible in humans. Animals, however, react strongly to the sudden surface assault of infrasonic shocks by attempting escape from the area. Animals cannot locate the source and center of these infrasonic impulses, behaving in a pitiful display of circular frenzies. The careening motion of wild horses and other domestic animals indicates their fear and anxiety. Poor creatures, neither they nor we can escape the infrasonic source. Encounters with natural infrasound reveal their vast extent, covering hundreds of square miles of surface area.
Certain animals employ infrasound as weaponry. It has been known that certain whales are able to stun their prey with powerful blasts of inaudible sounds. Called “gunshots”, whales focus these powerful blasts at large squid and other fish to paralyze and catch them. In some instances, they have been known to burst their prey apart by tonal projection alone. Human experience with these inaudible blasts have been reported. The distress calls emitted by little beached whales was sufficient to push a veterinarian back several feet in the water. Others have experienced these pressure waves, reporting that their hands could not be brought close to the sinal area of small whales because of their inaudible acoustic projections.
Infrasonic shocks produce characteristic pressure effects on structures and organisms alike. The sensation flattens the body. It is as if one were struck with a solid invisible wall from which there is no escape. There are physiological effects as well. Anxiety, fear, extreme emotional distress, and mental incapacitation are all part of the unpleasant phenomenon. Notable among human exposures to quake-correlated infrasound is the precursory nausea, which many report. This strong sensation leaves its more sensitive victims helpless. Feeling the momentary deep motion of the ground strata beneath them, numerous individuals have been used to report these sensations in a bizarre earthquake “alarm system”. Unfortunately, physiological reaction to infrasound remains continuous, long after their irritating presence has ceased. The harmfully stimulating influence of infrasound renders physiology permeable and ultrasensitive to every available environmental sensation. The extreme irritability of infrasound victims has been noted.
Earthquake infrasound manifests only at intermittent intervals, producing drastic and sustained negative modifications of consciousness. The human organism continues to reel under intermittent infrasonic assault for numerous reasons. After less than a five-minute exposure to low intensity infrasound of 10 cycles per second, dizziness will last for hours. Infrasound of 12 cycles per second produces severe and long lasting nausea after a brief low intensity exposure.
FLOOD...
.... THE ABYSS
The Cold War was on. The United States alone held the dread secret. The most terrible weapon yet developed was the private property of one government. The mere existence of the atomic bomb was threat to nations whose motives were not entirely altruistic. Motivated, aggressive, and imperialistic, obtaining atomic bomb data was a priority for several nations. The only manner in which some nations obtained the secret was by stealing it. When Stalin’s science officers finally developed an atomic duplicate of the American bomb, pressure suddenly was placed upon every other European nation to achieve an equivalent or better device.
When one seeks to defend one’s borders, the consequences of releasing weapons of devastation to the world do not seem important. Weaponry is death-oriented by nature. But there are moral differences between weapons of defense and weapons of offense. Previous to this atomic proliferation, competing nations concentrated their weapons research on truly bizarre and equally deadly means for defending their national boundaries. A great variety of such deadly weapons were perfected in rapid succession. This included deadly variations and combinations of gas weaponry, pathogenic agents, and radiant weaponry. Stalin’s research teams investigated psychic powers as a possible means for destroying an enemy. Psychotronic warfare was devel­oped among numerous groups, both private and national, with measurable success. Information on some simpler psychotronic weapons has recently been obtained through an increasing process of Soviet disclosure.
In truth, the larger the weaponry the less safe the national boundaries truly were. While the superpowers concentrated their weapons development programs on mass-destructive nuclear weaponry, others focused on more practical conventions. The limited tactical warfare of small battlefields seemed a more immediate need. While developing their own atomic device, France sought defensive tactical weaponry on every possible technological front. Short-range weapons would best defend against a conventional national assault. But other systems were also sought; systems which, though non-nuclear, were equally invincible. As the great Frankish Knight, Charles “the Ham­mer” Martel repelled ruthless invaders from the medieval east, so a new ham­mer would be sought to defend France against possible new enemies from the east. Even as Charles Martel arose from obscurity, so this strange new “hammer” would arise in equal obscurity.
GAVREAU
The central research theme of Dr. Vladimir Gavreau was the development of remote controlled automatons and robotic devices. To this end he assembled a group of scientists in 1957. The group, including Marcel Miane, Henri Saul, and Raymond Comdat, successfully developed a great variety of ro­botic devices for industrial and military purposes. In the course of develop­ing mobile robots for use in battlefields and industrial fields, Dr. Gavreau and his staff made a strange and astounding observation, which, not only interrupted their work, but became their major research theme.
Housed in a large concrete building, the entire group periodically experienced a disconcerting nausea, which flooded the research facility. Day after day, for weeks at a time, the symptoms plagued the researchers. Called to inspect the situation, industrial examiners also fell victim to the malady. It was thought that the condition was caused by pathogens, a “building sick­ness”. No such agencies were ever biologically detected. Yet the condition prevailed. Research schedules now seriously interrupted, a complete exami­nation of the building was called.
The researchers noticed that the mysterious nauseations ceased when cer­tain laboratory windows were blocked. It was then assumed that “chemical gas emissions” of some kind were responsible for the malady, and so a thor­ough search of the building was undertaken. While no noxious fumes could be detected by any technical means, the source was finally traced by building engineers to an improperly installed motor-driven ventilator. The engineers at first thought that this motor might be emitting noxious fumes, possibly evaporated oils and lubricants. But no evaporated products were ever detected. It was found that the loosely poised low speed motor, poised in its cavernous duct of several stories, was developing “nauseating vibrations”.
The mystery magnified for Dr. Gavreau and his team, when they tried to measure the sound intensity and pitch. Failing to register any acoustic readings at all, the team doubted the assessment of the building engineers. Never­theless, closing the windows blocked the sense of nausea. In a step of bril­liant scientific reasoning, Gavreau and his colleagues realized that the sound with which they were dealing was so low in pitch that it could not register on any available microphonic detector. The data was costly to the crew.
They could not pursue the “search” for long time periods. During the very course of tracking the sound down, an accidental direct exposure rendered them all extremely ill for hours. When finally measured, it was found that a low intensity pitch of a fundamental 7 cycles per second was being produced. Furthermore, this infrasonic pitch was not one of great intensity ei­ther. It became obvious that the slow vibrating motor was activating an infra­sonic resonant mode in the large concrete duct. Operating as the vibrating “tongue” of an immense “organ pipe”, the rattling motor produced nauseat­ing infrasound. Coupled with the rest of the concrete building, a cavernous industrial enclosure, the vibrating air column formed a bizarre infrasonic “amplifier”.
Knowledge of this infrasonic configuration also explained why shutting the windows was mildly effective in “blocking the malady”. The windows altered the total resonant profile of the building, shifting the infrasonic pitch and intensity. Since this time, others have noted the personally damaging effects of such infrasonic generation in office buildings and industrial facili­ties. The nauseating effects of exposure to a low intensity natural or manmade infrasonic source is now well appreciated.
It has become a routine architectural procedure to seek out and alter any possible such resonant cavities. The sources often appear in older buildings, the result of construction rendered faulty by previous lack of this knowledge. All such “improper” architectural formats are modified by the additions of sound-blocking materials.
WHISTLES
Dr. Gavreau and his research team now carefully investigated the effects of their “infrasonic organ” at various intensity levels and pitch. Changing the spring tension on shock mounts, which held the fan motor, it was possible to change the pitch. Various infrasonic resonances were established throughout the large research building. Shutting the windows blocked most of the symptoms. When the window was again opened, however weak as the source was made, the team felt the nauseating effects once again. In the business of mili­tary research, Dr. Gavreau believed he had discovered a new and previously “unknown weapon” in these infrasounds. Aware of the natural explosives by which infrasonics are generated, Dr. Gavreau began to speculate on the ap­plication of infrasonics as a defense initiative. The haphazard explosive ef­fects of natural infrasound in thunderclaps were quite effective in demon­strating what an artificial “thunder-maker” could do. But, how could a thun­derclap be artificially generated in a compact system? These thoughts stimu­lated theoretical discussions on the possibility of producing coherent infrasound: an infrasonic “laser”.
The first devices Dr. Gavreau implemented were designed to imitate the “accident” which first made his research group aware of infrasonics. They designed real organ pipes of exceedingly great width and length. The first of these was six feet in diameter and seventy-five feet long. These designs were tested outdoors, securely propped against protective sound-absorbent walls. The investigators stood at a great distance. Two forms of these infrasonic organ pipes were built. The first utilized a drive piston, which pulsed the pipe output. The second utilized compressed air in a more conventional manner.
The main resonant frequency of these pipes occurred in the “range of death”, found to lie between three and seven cycles per second. These sounds could not be humanly heard, a distinct advantage for a defense system. The effects were felt however. The symptoms come on rapidly and unexpectedly, though the pipes were operating for a few seconds. Their pressure waves impacted against the entire body in a terrible and inescapable grip. The grip was a pressure which came in on one from all sides simultaneously, an enve­lope of death.
Next came the pain, dull infrasonic pressure against the eyes and ears. Then came a frightening manifestation on the material supports of the device itself. With sustained operation of the pipe, a sudden rumble rocked the area, nearly destroying the test building. Every pillar and joint of the massive struc­ture bolted and moved. One of the technicians managed to ignore the pain enough to shut down the power supply.
These experiments with infrasonics were as dangerous as those early investigations of nuclear energy. Dr. Gavreau and his associates were dangerously ill for nearly a day after these preliminary tests. These maladies were sustained for hours after the device was turned off. Infrasonic assaults on the body are the more lethal because they come with dreadful silence. The eye­sight of Dr. Gavreau and his fellow workers were affected for days. More dangerously were their internal organs affected: the heart, lungs, stomach, intestinal cavity were filled with continual painful spasms for an equal time period.
Musculature convulses, torques, and tears were the symptoms of infra­sonic exposure. All the resonant body cavities absorbed the self-destructive acoustic energy, and would have been torn apart had the power not been extinguished at that precise moment. The effectiveness of infrasound as a defense weapon of frightening power having been demonstrated “to satisfaction”, more questions were asked. After this dreadful accident, approaching the equipment once again was almost a fearful exercise. How powerful could the output of an infrasonic device be raised before even the operating engi­neers were affected?
With greatest caution and respect for the power with which they worked, Dr. Gavreau began recalculating all of his design parameters. He had grossly misjudged the power released by the pipes. He had, in fact, greatly lowered those calculated outputs for diagnostic purposes. Never had he imagined that these figures were actually far too great in the world of infrasound!
Empirical data being the only way to determine how infrasonic energy correlated with both biological and material effect, the tests were again attempted with a miniature power supply. First, the dimensions of these devices had to be greatly reduced. Their extreme length was objectionable. In order to provide absolutely safe control of the deadly blasts, several emergency cutoff switches were provided. These responded to the radiated infrasonic pressure wave. The intensity could be absolutely limited by use of automated barometric switches.
In an attempt to achieve more compact and controllable infrasound generators, Dr. Gavreau designed and tested special horns and “whistles” of vari­ous volumes. These were each remarkably simple flat circular resonant cavi­ties, having a side output duct. They were simply the large analogues of fog­horns and police whistles. These flat forms were volumetrically reduced in successive design stages because it was found that their output was far too great. The infrasonic foghorns could produce a frightening two kilowatts of infrasonic energy, at a pitch of one hundred fifty cycles per second.
The flat “police whistles” were more easily designed to required specifications. Their overall characteristics were quite simple to determine, a math­ematical formula being devised for the purpose. The whistle’s resonant pitch was found by dividing its diameter into a numerical constant of 51. Increas­ing the depth of the whistle effectively increased its amplitude. A whistle 1.3 meters in diameter produced an infrasonic pitch of 37 cycles per second. This form violently shook the walls of the entire laboratory complex, though its intensity was less than 2 watts infrasonic power.
DANGER
Not much amplitude is required for infrasound to produce physiological malady. Several researchers accidentally did themselves great harm when, by deliberate intent or accident, they succeeded in generating infrasonic vibrations. Tesla used vibrating platforms as an aid to vitality. He delighted in “toning the body” with vibrational platforms of his own design. Mounted on heavy rubber pads, these platforms were vibrated by simple motorized “eccentric” wheels.
Their mild use, for a minute, could be pleasantly stimulating. The effects invigorating the whole body for hours thereafter. Excessive use would produce grave illness however, excessive aggravations of the heart being the most dangerous aspect of the stimulation. The entire body “rang” for hours with an elevated heart rate and greatly stimulated blood pressure. The effects could be deadly.
In one historic instance, Samuel Clemens, Tesla’s close friend, refused to descend from the vibrating platform. Tesla was sorry he had allowed him to mount it. After repeated warnings, Tesla’s concern was drowned out by both the vibrating machine and Clemens’ jubilant exaltations and praises. Several more seconds and Clemens nearly soiled his white suit, the effects of infrasound being “duly recorded”.
Tesla often went to great lengths in describing the effects of infrasounds to newspaper reporters who, behind his back, scoffed at the notion that a “little sound” could effect such devastations. Yet, it was precisely with such a “little sound” that Tesla nearly brought down his laboratory on Houston Street. His compact infrasonic impulsers were terribly efficient. Tesla later designed and tested infrasonic impulse weapons capable of wrecking buildings and whole cities on command.
Walt Disney and his artists were once made seriously ill when a sound effect, intended for a short cartoon scene, was slowed down several times on a tape machine and amplified through a theater sound system. The original sound source was a soldering iron, whose buzzing 60-cycle tone was lowered five times to 12 cycles. This tone produced a lingering nausea in the crew, which lasted for days.
Physiology seems to remain paralyzed by infrasound. Infrasound stimu­lates middle ear disruptions, ruining organismic equilibrium. The effect is like severe and prolonged seasickness. Infrasound immobilizes its victims. Restoration to normal vitality requires several hours, or even days. Exposure to mild infrasound intensities produces illness, but increased intensities re­sult in death. Alarming responses to infrasound have been accurately recorded by military medical experts. Tolerances from 40 to 100 cycles per second have been recorded by military examiners. The results are sobering ones. As infrasonic pitches decrease, the deadly symptoms increase. Altered cardiac rhythms, with pulse rates rising to 40 percent of their rest values, are the precursors to other pre-lethal states. Mild nausea, giddiness, skin flushing, and body tingling occur at 100 cycles per second. Vertigo, anxiety, extreme fatigue, throat pressure, and respiratory dysfunction follow. Coughing, se­vere sternal pressure, choking, excessive salivation, extreme swallowing pains, inability to breathe, headache, and abdominal pain occur between 60 and 73 cycles per second. Post exposure fatigue is marked. Certain subjects contin­ued to cough for half an hour, while many continued the skin-flush manifes­tation for up to four hours.
Significant visual acuity decrements are noted when humans are exposed to infrasounds between 43 and 73 cycles per second. Intelligibility scores for persons exposed, fall to a low of 77 percent their normal scores. Spatial orientation becomes completely distorted. Muscular coordination and equilibrium falter considerably. Depressed manual dexterity and slurred speech have been noted before individuals blackout. Just before this point, a significant loss in intelligibility is noted.
The findings of Dr. Gavreau in the infrasonic range between 1 and 10 cycles per second are truly shocking. Lethal infrasonic pitch lies in the 7-cycle range. Small amplitude increases affect human behavior in this pitch range. Intellectual activity is first inhibited, blocked, and then destroyed. As the amplitude is increased, several disconcerting responses had been noted. These responses begin as complete neurological interference. The action of the medulla is physiologically blocked, its autonomic functions cease.
WATCHMEN
Infrasound clings to the ground, a phenomenon well known in the animal world. Female vocalizations and those of their young, take their traceable routes through the air. High-pitched sounds are aerial in nature. This makes females and young natural targets for predators. Low-pitched tones cling to the ground, being “guided” along the soil layers. Male vocalizations cannot be localized by predators. Male sounds “hug the ground”, diffusing out from their source. Some males rumble the ground with voice and hooves. These are communications signals, which they alone comprehend. .....
.....Such a war engine would be impossible to locate. None who saw its size would believe it to contain such a lethal power. Most would overlook the device completely. A flood of such devices, each emanating a peculiar highly modulated blend of infrasound, would be an unstoppable wall. Robotic tanks equipped with infrasonic generators could sweep an area with deadly infrasound, destroying all opponents to within a five mile radius. These ter­rible infrasonic weapons could easily be secured in drone jets, where aerial assaults could quickly and methodically waste any offensive approaching army.
Deterring would-be aerial attackers could be equally devastating for the offenders. Infrasonic beacons could sweep and scan the skies with a deadly accuracy. Infrasound passes through all matter with equal effectiveness, seek­ing out offenders with deadly consequence. The intensities which the Gavreau devices effectively broadcast into the environment are frightening. In these devices we see the perfection of phenomena, which never naturally occur in such dangerous intensities. This is why these weapons must be deployed by remote control, operating as automatons at great distances from their operators.
Weapons are made to defend, not to offend. In Gavreau’s own words: “There does not exist complete protection against infrasound. It is not ab­sorbed by ordinary matter, walls and chambers do not suffice to arrest it”. And so, once again, we stand at the crossroads. We are called, summoned to appear before two pathways. On the one, we hear Messaien and the musical messages of peace. On the other, Gavreau and the musical messages of war. And again we choose. And again we must choose. Whose music will it be?

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Greetings and Salutations to all! So while cruising around on Royal Road, I noted a thread about the problems of LitRPGs/GameLit stories, and it got a line of thought going in my head. Can the genre be done better? Valoria Saga is my attempt at this genre. If you end up enjoying it, consider going to the story on Royal Road. I've got two chapters written there already. Thanks, guys, and enjoy!
* * * * *
"Join the Valorian Saga, the most immersive RPG experience that has ever existed."
Y'know, I might be a tad biased here, but the devs sure weren't lying. I mean, I kinda wish they were, but yeah, feelin' pretty immersed seeing as we can't actually leave the game...
It started out pretty normally as far as game launches are concerned. A brand new VRMMO with cutting-edge graphics, a neural link that promised full sensation, and even an adaptive AI that would supposedly learn as the game was played. I might've held off on getting it but aside from my friends going nuts over the thing, the people in the open beta were near weeping at how awesome it was, even the guys who usually populated YouTube and Twitch with unending cynicism and rancor. I mean, most professional reviews couldn't be trusted due to how these things get monetized, but when even the grognards are raving... you listen.
I still debated the purchase for several reasons, the chief one being the cost. With brand new AI came a brand new VR rig, and a neuralink system that was adapted over from the ones that were being developed for things like artificial limbs or to use computers without using your hands. With a far more lucrative and wider market in general gamers, it was only natural to adapt it to rake in more money...
"YO, Luke!"
I nearly jumped out of my seat. Rob, who worked over in sales, had the clear look of a man who'd been trying to get my attention for some time, "Sorry, man, I was deep in it. What do you need?"
Rob shook his head, "Uh... it's like five-thirty. You planning on going home? Pre-Downloads should be opening up soon."
"Oh crap. Totally spaced there for a minute. Yeah, I'll be along in a minute. Just finishing up the ledgers."
Working as an accountant isn't exactly the most rock n' roll job out there, but it paid enough to keep me in games, which was more the point of it. I know plenty of teachers had told me to 'follow my dreams', but I mean, starving gamer isn't really that appealing in the real world. An MBA did secure a degree of discretionary budget, however, and it did guarantee me weekends off for the most part. This particular weekend I'd requested Friday off, giving me a four-day weekend with Memorial Day on Monday. I dropped my ledgers, saved everything, and made sure I was as caught up as possible, then ran to catch up with Rob, who was busy chatting up a barista on his way out, "All good man. I'll just grab a coffee."
Rob decided that impressing his barista was important and picked up my coffee for me, as well as leaving a tip that was a little too good, and we rolled out. While most of the world didn't know much about the game, our phones were abuzz with Valorian Saga news. The game had fully sold out, even selling out of the digital codes because the devs had not quite prepared themselves for what would happen when game footage of a guy firing a bow from gryphon-back at a dragon in flight hit the web. Then there were the people going over, amongst other things, that the game had... smells? A lot of YouTubers were talking at length of how detailed things like ray tracing were, sights, sounds, just a whole range of things.
My main worry was more the immediate server press. Figuring that this would either be the most epic game ever produced, or the Hindenberg of video games, I'd gone with the Limited Edition. Rob chuckled next to me as we were walking out of the office, "Still can't believe they hooked you on that. You know better. How many times have you told me about the dangers of going all-in on a pre-order for a new game?"
I sighed, and shared in the chuckle, "I know, I know, I... did you see what was in that bundle, though? I don't care if I gotta eat ramen for a month, that set is pretty awesome. A full cloth map of Equess, the journals with the race, class, and culture guides? Plus a neat-looking starter outfit, and a purple dragon pet that flies along with you, and even perches on your shoulder, to say nothing of the dragonrider figurine."
Rob and I had graduated college together, and post-college, gotten a place together to make things a bit easier on us starting out, so we got the entire car ride home to nerd out about the game. The devs had set it up so that we could get the game downloaded and ready to go for when the launch kicked off at midnight, so we were heading pretty much straight home to get that started up, with a quick stop to grab some dinner on the way. When we pulled up to the drive-thru, the operator's usual tone switched almost immediately, "Oh hey, Luke. You guys on your way home?"
"Okay, yeah, we eat out too much, " Rob's tone was deeply sardonic.
I snorted a little, "Hey Kimberly. Yeah, we're just stopping off for dinner real quick. Our usual order, please."
The order was already popping up on screen, and I did hang my head for a moment, cause yeah, when you know the drive-thru lady by name, and she knows you by order and names... you're there too often. Upside, though, was she always got our order right, so there was a trade-off, and she was a casual gamer as well, "So I take you guys are no-lifing it this weekend?"
"Yeah, it's the big launch weekend. You gonna be playing?," Rob put in. Kimberly quickly checked our order, gave us total and had us drive around, handing us out our food as she responded, "Oh yeah. Mom and Dad got me the set for my birthday, though Dad thinks it's a waste of money. I'll be getting off after the rush dies down. Do you guys have your screennames worked out?"
She looked like the last person who would be a gamer by stereotype. She'd been a cheerleader in high school, as well as either homecoming queen or prom queen... maybe both? In any event, she'd gotten hooked on games in college... but she'd gone for an art major, and... yeah... that wasn't really paying the bills yet, "Not quite yet, but here-"
I fished out my phone, and held up a QR code for our Discord Group for the game, Dragon's Den, as named by a couple of junior high kids who thought it totally sounded cool, then kept it as a cheesy reminder of where we started out. She clipped the code for the invite, we collected our food, said our goodbyes and got on home. We'd opted to rent out a finished basement apartment. It wasn't the greatest, but it gave us each our own room, and the elderly couple upstairs were nice. Also, the rent wasn't too bad since they had to stay under a certain point to keep their SSI.
We used our regular entrance around the side of the house, and got to work, getting the downloads started, and having dinner. Next up, making sure I had a check-in time. I got out my phone and called my sister, "Hey Denise. Just checking in to make sure you know to call me in the morning, and if I don't answer, swing by and kick me. You got the key? Great. Talk to you in the morning. Love you, too."
Next on the plate was checking with the rest of our little group on Discord. Seemed like everyone was already moving on things, so I took some time to read up on the race and class guides I'd gotten while we all played around in voice chat and went through character options in the online character generator demo, "Rob, what're you looking at rolling?"
"Oh, you know I'm heading after that sweet, sweet Gladiator glory!"
Rob was pretty basic in games, but that's not necessarily bad. He pretty much always went tank, which also made him a lot better at running tank even in new games. Rob was really the only one I'd met face-to-face, and the rest of us had come together through various online stuff, not least of which was Minecraft servers, so we mostly knew each other by our gamertags. Temur was after the higher casting jobs but wasn't sure which one, we had our two crafters, Daeva and Arkadi, and pretty much everyone else got too back and forth to follow. Eventually, our newest member, Kimbarian joined, and she was far more interested in what race she would play, looking at elf primarily.
Eventually, the time came, and we all got to our places, setting up a meeting place at the Broken Wheel, a named Tavern in the starting city of Farrelston. It was useless to immediately partner up since we'd all be doing tutorials right out of the gate. I laid down in my bed, made sure everyone's rigs were plugged in, and activated the links. At first the screen was blank, but steadily light emerged over the logo for Century Interactive, the studio making the game, a heavily stylized hourglass with ancient looking clockwork behind and name emblazoned across, lit as though by torch light form underneath. Then I got the usual assortment of engine logos, before the cinematic trailer began. It was astounding, really, showing a quick taste of the adventures to come.
It started out with me on horseback riding into the grand city of Farrelston as dawn broke in the distance, purple dragons rampant on a field of white and gold for the banners of Valoria, the starting kingdom in the world of Equess. I could feel the wind, and see the landscape spanning out around me, even feeling the shift of the horse beneath me as it moved. I'd seen the trailer before online, of course, and was initially tempted to skip it, but I mean, come on. This was what we all dreamed of as gamers. The scene shifted to me walking into a guildhall, and I could smell food, spices, and ale, feel the stones beneath my feet as the folks bandied about discussing various news of the day.
Again, the scene shifted as I now walked into a shaded forest, on the hunt for a group of goblins, and I felt the humidity in the air, the slight droplets of drizzle, "Holy crap!"
Eventually, it came to the title screen itself, and through the link, I selected to start, checked off the Terms & Conditions, and as agreed by the group, I chose the Brigandine server. The character creator was far different than what I'd seen online, and it showed as I stepped in front of a magical mirror, my footsteps echoing. The room around it was done up like a cathedral, with a solid shaft of light touching down on the mirror, surrounded in stained glass windows and high ceilings. A disembodied voice called out from above,
"Welcome to Equess, adventurer. Stand before the mirror."
I did as instructed, though a part of me kind of wanted to wait it out and see if there was any dialogue I would otherwise miss, but I didn't want to chance holding up my friends, "Eh, I can do that on the next playthrough."
As I approached the mirror, it appeared as though I was still in shadow, but I knew that part of the process was starting out with a facial scan to give the game a baseline to work with. Standardly in these games, I chose a look as unique as possible, but this felt different, and eschewing that, I went for a more heroic version of myself: Human, five-foot-ten became an even six-foot, light brown hair that was decently longer than my own, blue eyes, combination of scruff and goatee, medium build with admittedly a much nicer physique than my own... and not quite so pasty white as me. As I finished up my appearance in the usual starting attire game for human males, the voice spoke once again,
"And now adventurer, on what path do you begin your journey?"
At first, it showed me as a warrior, holding a shield and sword, which was just the default starting point of jobs. The interface was pretty cool, letting me use the link to navigate by swiping left and right, and it operated as its own tutorial in a way for basic system mechanics. Now... starting job... truthfully, they all sounded decent. Warrior could go in the direction of a tank or DPS build depending on how you wanted to play it. Acolyte covered the beginning support magics, and Arcanist started you down the path of DPS magic. Vagabonds were stealth/DPS, but in the end, I picked Hunter, a ranged DPS job that could use pets and snares, "I am a Hunter."
"Stand forth and sign your name, then speak it aloud, Hunter," The voice said, light illuminating a nearby pedestal.
I stepped forward and looked on a ledger. I signed my character name, Lugh, "My name is Lugh."
The sound of opening doors echoed behind me as the cathedral doors opened, and I caught my first sights and smells of the world, "Welcome, Lugh, to the world of Equess, and the kingdom of Valoria! Go forth and begin your journey!"
I walked down the aisle of the cathedral and stepped into the light of my new world for the first time. The light of day was incredibly bright as I stepped forward, and looked out into a massive square. The cathedral spanned up high behind, as grand as any picture I'd ever seen of Notre Dame. The smells of the city around me greeted me, the good and the bad, and I could do nothing but stand there and marvel. The buildings of the city were covered in blue tiles, a combination of timber and stone walls. For most, they were shuttered without glass, while the fancier buildings had panes of it. Smoke wafted up from chimneys, and a warm breeze hung in the air.
There was almost too much sensory input for me, just as if I was stepping out of a darkened basement for the first time in forever. It took time to adjust as I stood there at the top of the cathedral stairs, but finally, as I got my bearings, and young man wearing what I recognized as the outfit used by the heralds of the game came up to me, a golden glow limming him to mark him as a quest NPC, "Master Lugh! Welcome to Farrelston! My name is Pemby, and I can show you around."
A small window with the initial quest popped up: "Taking In The Sights"
"Alright, Pembry, lead the way," I said, falling into step behind him as he turned.
In most games, this sort of guide about town was pretty much bog standard and so was this, to an extent, but the ability to actually feel the world around me changed the entire feeling of everything. The city was massive, and having a guide would be necessary if I wanted to not get myself lost. He began where we stood, "Obviously, the building you've just stepped from is the Cathedral of Brigid, matron goddess of Valoria, built upon the founding of Farrelston some three centuries past..."
Pembry led the way, pointing out the various buildings such as the adventurer's guild, where we stopped off to get me registered by signing in at the desk, and I received a small booklet for my inventory. The menu system for the game wasn't like the ones I'd seen in so many other games. Instead of some general menu screen, it was a character journal that players could pull from a pouch on our belts. The first page was the character screen, the words and numbers done in a simple but well-defined calligraphy. It had all the vital statistics, which I checked real quick.
Eight attributes lined up vertically along the left side page, and they were pretty self-explanatory. Strength, Agility, Vigor, Intellect, Will, Spirit, Speech, and Wits. My two Primary stats were Agility and Wits, befitting a job that focused on hunting, firing a bow, and tracking, since Wits was a contributory attribute to to most of the survival skills. Agility would add to my skill and damage with archery, as well as combine with Wits to give me my baseline Reaction stat. The two stats sat at five points each, though I had no way of knowing how high they could go.
Strength and Vigor were secondary attributes, with a rating of four to start. Spirit and Will tertiary at three points, leaving my dump stats as Intellect and Speech... hm, I should probably work on those two, since they could affect a lot of lore skills and what price I got from merchants and vendors, at least get them up even with the tertiary scores. Things for later.
The right side of the book held my inventory screen. It was kind of like the ones from the old Diablo games, where it showed an actual backpack with slots and a silhouette of a character with boxes for equippable items on it. The backpack was arranged with slots, most internal with a few outside slots. Different items had different slot sizes and shapes. For now, I had just my starting gear for Hunter: A simple outfit, a leather surcoat for armor that trailed down to about my knee, along with a bow and arrows slung over my shoulder crossways, a hunting knife, and a hatchet on the belt alongside a waterskin. In my backpack, there were a few days worth of rations, flint and steel, and some hemp rope. Playing around with the interface showed me that I could skip the screen and just put things directly into my belt or backpack if I wanted to, and I noted my encumbrance limit.
The next page had my job information, currently just Hunter, and a few abilities for using my weapons, tracking, and basic stealth. Just the immediate necessities for being a Hunter. The rest would pick up as I used my abilities, so I could check in on those later as I got some experience under me. Opposite of the journal's spine were index markers for various sections, such as craft jobs and skills, skill trees, and much more, easily flipped to in the journal, with the final section being devoted to settings. I could over everything else later, but for now, I wanted to focus on being in the moment.
I got taken past some shops, the auction house, and finally, to The Broken Wheel, the tavern where I would finally be able to start on my own. My guide explained each of the structures to me as we walked along, and after coming up to the door of the tavern with me Pembry said his farewells, and I got my quest rewards: A small amount of skill XP in Farrelston Lore, a slight rise in my local reputation, and a writ for a free night's stay at the tavern, along with a flyer recruiting for the local militia. I stowed my gear, checked my pouch to see I had fifteen gold, and stepped into the tavern. It was a massive press of people all around, most starting players all shouting to form groups, *sigh\* "I really should've picked a different spot. Oh well."
Finding Rob was going to be an issue. It was difficult to see anyone, but I had an old solution. Holding my hands up over my head, I clapped loudly twice. For anyone else it wouldn't register, but my mom had done that exact clap all growing up, and I'd gotten used to using it when I needed to summon Rob. I wasn't... precisely sure it was him 'til a massive half-orc stepped from the mob and crushed me in a bear hug, "Grats, man! We're here! Come on, the guys are waiting upstairs."
I turned in my writ for a free night, then trailed along with Rob, who was only too happy to talk about things, "Oh, name's Khargol, by the way. And here's the gang!"
Knowing my friends pretty well, they were easy to pick out. Temur had settled himself on a Dracon Arcanist, a half-dragon race, his scales an iridescent blue. Daeva was quite clearly going to be playing up the runway model turned smith role, while Arkadi was playing Sylvain, a sort of half-fey, half-plant hybrid that didn't really have a gender to speak of. Kim had chosen elf like she'd wanted, and was apparently trying to test if she could actually run the tavern out of food, "Hey guys! So what's everyone's name? I went with Lugh."
Temur stuck with Temur as standard. Daeva went with Chrysta, and Kim went with Shelara. For a while, we were all just going back and forth about our experience so far, and how amazing the world was. Once I'd let the kittens run some nerding out of their systems, I rapped my mug on the table, "Alright, so everyone stuck with their initial jobs, right?"
Warrior went with Khargol, Temur the Arcanist, Arkadi the Acolyte, Lugh the Hunter, and Shelera the Vagabond. We'd ended up just covering our bases for starting jobs, figuring we could always change up later once the option opened up after the usual run-through of the starting quests. Khargol was amped to get started, "Alright, team, let's get to the guild! I wanna go fight some stuff!"
We made our way out of the tavern and passed through the square where plenty of people were already calling out stuff, looking for group to adventure with, or trying to hawk wares that they likely didn't have yet, but they're gamers. We got into the guildhall, and Khargol made a beeline for the quest board, perusing it and grabbing a stack of stuff to come back with, "'K gang, we've got a bunch of stuff. There's 'run around the city' quests, they seem to have small bits of gold, then once we run through all of those, I figure we get into the fun stuff."
The city quests were just that, the simple quests that ran you about town, got you familiar with the city, and got you used to everything. Admittedly, we were kind of rushing a bit, but it was launch day, and we wanted to get as much in as we could together. Khargol and I would end up getting way ahead of the others over the weekend, so this would be our best chance to work as a team for a while. We familiarized ourselves with the various tabs, got some more coin, and continued on until we started getting hungry and tired. Most of the group went back to the tavern, but I'd seen a park I wanted to check out and took the occasion to break out some water and rations, resting on a bench by a small pond with swans swimming in it. It felt amazing, and eventually, I noticed all the newly minted adventurers in town heading off to rest, tiring out. I hated to miss anything, but I was starting to feel drowsy, so I went back to the tavern for my room. In my room, the footlocker at the end of the tavern bed held my extra gear for the limited edition, and I tried on my new outfit. I liked the look, but better was watching the little dragon's egg hatch, and a small dragon, no larger than a kitten uncurled itself, and I heard the voice from the cathedral speak, "And what is your companion's name?"
"Her name is Yndress."
The little dragon uncurled itself, little purple scales rippling. and as I reached out a hand, she sniffed, stretching tiny wings, and then scrambling up my arm to perch herself on my shoulder and let out the tiniest of roars from her 'throne'. It was amazing, I could feel her claws on my arm as she climbed. After spending some time petting her, I turned in for the night and drifted off. Morning is when it all went wrong.
I came out to mass hysteria. The tavern common room was split between players all screaming back and forth at once, flipping furiously through their journals, and NPCs just trundling about doing their regular routines about the tavern like nothing had happened.
"LUKE!"
Rob was generally good about staying in character, so hearing my actual name snapped me around as he looked at me concernedly, "Can you log out?"
I popped up my menu and went through the settings. The logout button was there, but it was greyed out. Checking another part, I looked for the emergency cut-off, the rig's version of Alt+F4, and again, greyed out. Rob was going on about stuff, but I was ignoring it, combing through the menus for anything I could think of. GM Ticket, greyed out. In fact, everything that changed settings wasn't working, it wasn't just the parts related to logging out, "Rob, the others around?"
He was still going on, and I had to snap my fingers in front of his face to get his attention, "Dude, where's everyone else?!"
Rob nodded somewhat stupidly and grabbed me along with him to a backroom the tavern rented out for players, where the rest of the group was going into hysterics, with Kim leading the charge, "This sucks! I've got class and work!"
Temur quirked an eyebrow, "Seriously?! That's your concern right now?! What happens when we have to go to the bathroom out there?"
It was devolving rapidly. I slammed the door of the backroom to get everyone's attention, "Everyone! Okay, look, there's some sort of bug, I get it, and we've all got stuff here. Now, let's just chill out for a minute. Is there anyone here who's living alone? Me and Rob are together, but my sister should come at some point to get us."
Everyone shook their heads, "Okay, then it's just a delay, alright? Something like this is going to make news, and the GMs may have just suspended logout or something to deal with it, okay? Everyone stay here while I go see if I can find out more, but we'd best party up."
Establishing a party gave us a location on one another, and with at least some sort of plan, they were calming down, "Rob, you're with me. Everyone else, stay here."
We got free of the now completely packed out tavern, and I grabbed Rob to motion him down an unoccupied side street, "We need to talk."
"Yeah, dude. If they were gonna log us out, they'd have done it while we were all down for the night, or at least made some sort of server announcement even if they weren't," Rob replied.
I closed my eyes. I needed to think, "Okay, let's work it through. We know that all the settings are gone, and... yeah, the real-world clock is gone, too. Something bigger is wrong here... respawn's at the cathedral, right? Someone must've been dumb enough to die by now."
We got back to the cathedral and went inside by the dais where those respawning would appear. It was empty except for a group of freaked out players who were going into full-blown panic, "HEY! You guys waiting on people to come back?"
An elven woman nodded, "My brother Tom. He should've already respawned by now. We tried to run that bandit encounter, and he went right after the leader."
The bandit quest had been in the stack we grabbed but hadn't gotten to it, "Okay, anyone else?"
Heads nodded all around. I spared a look to my friend, and he was faltering, so I regarded the others, "Okay, looks like we have... about eight people here? Everyone party up, and come with me. We've got a backroom at the tavern. We can wait there."
Rob was drifting. Oh, hell. This wasn't shaping up well, and the view was getting more dire as we went along. No logging out, the GMs weren't forcibly ejecting folks or shutting off the servers, no access to anything outside the game, and now, no respawn. There weren't any answers, just more problems. The server was going into a complete panic, complete with anime references back and forth. The newly minted party followed us back to the tavern, and as I closed the door, Kim came up, "Did you figure out what's happening?"
"Yeah. It's not good."
I motioned her to sit, and everyone else took seats around the room, looking to me, "I'm pretty sure we're trapped here, at least for the time being. I don't know what's going on with respawning, but neither does anyone else, so for now, we assume that they're more or less okay, but we can't risk dying just to test it. We don't have anyway right now to contact anyone, and the server's flipping out. For those of you who are new, I'm Lugh, and the half-orc beside me is my friend Khargol, and we're gonna help keep everyone safe."
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Hi all! I am new here so please excuse any formatting errors and I'm also typing this from my phone.
I (32F) am a highschool English teacher. I have a very friendly relationship with my students and they all love and respect me. I feel very motherly towards them and am very protective. A lot of my students often come to me for advice regarding their personal issues as well. For example a few days back Emily(fake name) came to me to ask my opinion on which dress she should wear to her first date with her new bf. You get the idea.
This year we have a new student in class. Let's call her Sarah. Sarah has really severe anxiety and is very skittish. I have also seen that she seems even more scared around her parents. I've taken her under my wing and have been praising her a lot. She is a really good student and her level of English far surpasses her peers. I am a qualified personality development trainer on top of being a teacher so I know many techniques to help kids like Sarah overcome some of their anxiety and confidence issues. I've been teaching her mirror-talk, speech shadowing and self-love. She has shown incredible improvement recently. She has been able to make friends and she also seems a lot more enthusiastic to participate in class these days. Other teachers have also told me that my efforts have been prominent in their classes as well.
The problem arose when yesterday her parents came to school and I was called to the principal's office. The parents immediately started aggressively telling me that I have no right to parent their daughter and that I have totally ruined her character. Our principal tried mediating and after a lot of yelling from the parents and me trying to explain what happened, we learnt the main issue. Basically Sarah wants to go to a college out of state after graduating but her parents don't want her to. They are devout catholics and they believe that girls shouldn't seek higher education as that would diminish their value. They want her to stay home and learn "home science". But after my help Sarah has apparently gotten more confident and is standing up to her parents. She told them she'll be 18 soon and they cannot control her life. Her parents are now telling me that they will drag me to the court for meddling in their lives etc. Thankfully our principal was able to calm them down and basically arranged for Sarah to not have any classes with me.
I am heartbroken. I thought I was doing the right thing by helping a kid. I thought it was my duty as a teacher to nurture my students. Sarah has since come to me to tell me that no matter what she will go to a college out of state and that she wants to stay in touch with me. I explained to her that she is still a minor and has to abide by her parents rules but that I'll always support her. She said she will contact me once she is 18 because then her parents won't have any say in the matter. She wants my help applying to different colleges and program as according to her she trusts my judgement.
I'm honestly feeling so anxious about the whole situation. And I'm also wondering if I actually did something wrong. Am I really the AH in this situation? Did I overstep my boundaries? I don't know what to think. If there are teachers or students here who have been in similar situations, please tell me if IATAH or not and what should my next steps be.
If you've read so far then thank you. Again I'm sorry if this is too long or formatted wrong. I'm new to reddit so I don't know how everything works. My colleague told me to come here to ask for opinions. Thanks in advance to anybody who gives me proper advice.

At-will employee here at a private institution. I know political speech in the workplace isn’t protected but I was wondering whether employers can allow certain forms of political speech while banning others? Is that legal? Or is that discriminatory?
Thanks
EDIT: I live in New York. Colleagues are allowed to talk about the war in Ukraine and display signs of support for Ukrainians. They are allowed to make reference to international law when discussing Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine. I was specifically told not to discuss Gaza or make reference to international law with regard to what’s happening there. I don’t know if it’s relevant but I am the only Arab American employee. There’s certainly a double standard and I’m worried if I just ignore their instructions they can fire me for cause?
Also it appears that others can circulate articles about it so long as the articles don’t make reference to international law or the ICJ case or express any kinds of opinions or criticism that stray too far from the official US government stance. Again, I work for a private institution.
Regardless of your own personal feelings about the conflict— my question is can an employer limit and regulate one person’s speech about an issue while not doing so to other employees or about other issues?

Like a few of us here, I watched Ross Coulthart's new Reality Check live, as I've been doing since its inception.
I do want to make note here that I like data and numbers. Reality Check doesn't always do so well right away, but we're eleven hours in, and this video is at 100K views. I also watched the numbers for the The Good Trouble Show with Matt Ford increase pretty rapidly in the past couple of months. People are very focused on this topic.
I thought it might be best to start with end of the presentation.
Ross ends by saying that he's involved with the Australian Non-Human Intelligence Research Institute, the first organization of its kind in the Australasian region.
https://nhir.org/home
The Institute is being funded by the generous support of neuroscientist and businessman, Dr. Anton Uvarov.
https://nhir.org/about/people
According to Ross:
"We plan to fund collaborative scientific research projects into Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena. And we are very interested in funding generously collaborations with scientists worldwide.
We're already working with Dr. Beatriz Villaroel who's already working who is also presenting at the conference (and who is also part of SOL and presented at their conference) to assist her superb research into astronomical transients.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njNP8ypUbDM&t=6s
Another planned project is the construction of absolutely state-of-the-art observation stations that will be placed in UAP hotspots. These will be mobile, using absolutely best-case, top-of-the-line technology. We hope they will collect extensive data on UAP."
Today's video was his presentation at the SCU, the Scientific Coalition for UFOs, in Huntsville, AL, following this speech at Contact in the Desert this past week. He was the keynote speaker for the SCU Conference. These events were held back-to-back, and at both, Coulthart made very clear that if anything were to happen to him, he had journalists around the world ready to publish everything he has. If anyone here still wants to call him a grifter, GFY. As detailed in his speech here, he's won many accolades for his journalism over the years in Australia reporting for 60 Minutes and 7 News, the largest broadcast network in the country.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuCPbavls0U&t=4956s
I remember when this was announced, as Huntsville is a very interesting choice for this conference. Huntsville is one of the biggest hubs in the US for aerospace companies, namely Boeing, something the city prides itself on, and it also has massive contracts with NASA.
https://www.madeinalabama.com/2023/06/boeings-alabama-operation-writes-new-chapters-in-innovation/
https://whnt.com/news/huntsville/2-ufos-spotted-in-washington-park-lockheed-martin-has-an-explanation/
My new friend u/lastofthefinest was among those on here to point out that both Amy Eskridge and Dr. Ning Li, who were working on anti-gravity tech and UAP research in Huntsville, both turned up dead. These names and their stories are very familiar on this sub, and I think holding this conference in Huntsville with Coulthart as the keynote speaker was a definite shot to the bow.
https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1abtxk6/i_believe_dr_amy_eskridge_a_uap_researcher_that/
https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1acn6uf/amy_eskridge_huntsville_al_ls_society_anti/

Handdrawn spaceship design done by 15 year old Werner Von Braun at the U.S Space and Rocket Center in Huntsville, AL.

https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/14ywlb0/handdrawn_spaceship_design_done_by_15_year_old/

https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/16ni3zj/unraveling_the_bizarre_trail_of_antigravity/

US Space Command wanted to move their facility to Huntsville but were denied. Mike Rogers, one the known members who helped gut the UAPDA, was actively pushing for this.
https://www.politico.com/news/2023/12/27/space-command-alabama-00133200
I know there's a lot more to dig into regarding Huntsville and its history of UAP research and defense contractors, but let's stop there for now.
Ross's comments that stuck out to me as I was listening earlier. I'm sure I missed plenty.
Ross brought up the Echelon Agreement, a surveillance system between the US and UK updated in 1998 when that technology was taking off. Here's the Wikipedia page which could be changed at any time, the history goes back further:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ECHELON
Here's a link to the European Parliament's statement on the program:
https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://www.europarl.europa.eu/EPRS/EPRS_STUDY_538877_AffaireEchelon-EN.pdf&ved=2ahUKEwiooa2Wo8aGAxVjLkQIHeKGCkEQFnoECA4QAQ&usg=AOvVaw1js5LhwzYi12M6OUyqZ3cW
Summary
During the second half of the 1990s press and media reports revealed the existence of the Echelon network. This system for intercepting private and economic communications was developed and managed by the states that had signed the UKUSA and was characterised by its powers and the range of communications targeted: surveillance was directed against not only military organisations and installations but also governments, international organisations and companies throughout the world.
This study recounts the uncovering of the network, notably through the STOA investigations, questions by MEPs, debates in plenary, the setting up of a temporary committee and the final position adopted by the European Parliament. It also takes account of statements by researchers and journalists on the technical aspects and legal implications of the Echelon network. Finally, it considers the views of the political groups in the European Parliament and of the Commission and Council.
Fifteen years after the events, The Echelon Affair draws on the European Parliament’s archives to describe and analyse a worldwide scandal which had an impact on the history of Parliament and which today is echoed in the revelations of Edward Snowden and Julian Assange and in other cases of spying on a grand scale.
Something else Ross brought up is that the GAO, the US Government Accountability Office, has stated that the Pentagon has failed its audit starting in 1981. That's the year President Ronald Reagon and VP George H. W. Bush took office. Reagan was narrowly elected after an agreement for Iran to return US hostages after he took office. Trump is trying to do the same right now with Russia with Wall Street Journal journalist. Here's a Chris Hayes piece tonight about that. It's literally the same fucking move.
https://twitter.com/allinwithchris/status/1798512620334391737
Bush has a history of both UFO/UAP recovery and oil wars. I'll piece this together later, but his name keeps coming up thanks to u/36_39_42 and u/harry_is-white_hot delving into the Magenta '33 crash recovery. His family's bank funded the Nazis. That's for later. But I think I think Ross mentioned 1981 on purpose.
Here's a statement on Bernie Sanders's website just weeks after Grusch's interview with Ross (and I just saw earlier that Grusch's first closed-door interview with Congress was June 12, 2021, which led to AARO, which means the Pentagon's really caught in another trap here):
https://www.sanders.senate.gov/press-releases/news-sanders-grassley-and-colleagues-make-bipartisan-push-to-audit-the-pentagon-and-end-wasteful-spending/

NEWS: Sanders, Grassley and Colleagues Make Bipartisan Push to Audit the Pentagon and End Wasteful Spending

• June 21, 2023

Last year, the DOD failed its fifth audit and was unable to account for over half of its assets, which are in excess of $3.1 trillion, or roughly 78 percent of the entire federal government.

WASHINGTON, June 21 – As the recent debt ceiling deal increased military spending to $886 billion for fiscal year 2024, Sens. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) and Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa), along with Sens. Ron Wyden (D-Ore.), Mike Lee (R-Utah), Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.), Mike Braun (R-Ind.), Jeff Merkley (D-Ore.), Rand Paul (R-Ky.), Ed Markey (D-Mass.), and Tammy Baldwin (D-Wis.), today introduced legislation that would require the Department of Defense (DOD) to finally pass a full, independent audit in fiscal year 2024. If enacted, the Audit the Pentagon Act of 2023 would require any DOD component that fails to complete a clean audit opinion to return 1 percent of its budget to the Treasury for deficit reduction.
Ross talked about how the Air Force was pushing an anti-gravity program way back in 1956. Here's the Wiki:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_gravity_control_propulsion_research

United States gravity control propulsion research

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
American interest in "gravity control propulsion research" intensified during the early 1950s. Literature from that period used the terms anti-gravity, anti-gravitation, baricentric, counterbary, electrogravitics (eGrav), G-projects, gravitics, gravity control, and gravity propulsion.^\1])^\2]) Their publicized goals were to discover and develop technologies and theories for the manipulation of gravity or gravity-like fields for propulsion.^\3]) Although general relativity theory appeared to prohibit anti-gravity propulsion, several programs were funded to develop it through gravitation research from 1955 to 1974. The names of many contributors to general relativity and those of the golden age of general relativity have appeared among documents about the institutions that had served as the theoretical research components of those programs.^\4])^\5])^\6]) Since its emergence in the 1950s, the existence of the related gravity control propulsion research has not been a subject of controversy for aerospace writers, critics, and conspiracy theory advocates alike, but their rationale, effectiveness, and longevity have been the objects of contested views.United States gravity control propulsion research.

Evidence of existence

Mainstream newspapers, popular magazines, technical journals, and declassified papers reported the existence of the gravity control propulsion research. For example, the title of the March 1956 Aero Digest article about the intensified interest was "Anti-gravity Booming." A. V. Cleaver made the following statement about the programs in his article:
What are the facts, insofar as they are publicly known, or (as at this date) knowable? Well, they seem to amount to this: The Americans have decided to look into the old science-fictional dream of gravity control, or "anti-gravity," to investigate, both theoretically and (if possible) practically the fundamental nature of gravitational fields and their relationship to electromagnetic and other phenomena – and someone (unknown to the present writer) has apparently decided to call all this study by the high-sounding name of "electro-gravitics." Unknown, too – at least unannounced – is the name of agency or individual who decided to encourage, stimulate, or sponsor this effort, also in just what way it is being done. However, that the effort is in progress there can be little doubt, and, of course, it is entirely to be welcomed.^\7])
The gravitics programs had not been evinced by any technological artifacts, such as the Project Pluto Tory IIA, the world's first nuclear ramjet. Commemorative monuments by the Gravity Research Foundation have been the artifacts attesting to the early commitments to finding materials and methods to manipulate gravity. The endeavor had the resources and publicity of an initiative, but writers from that period did not describe them with that term. Gladych stated:
At least 14 United States universities and other research centers are hard at work cracking the gravity barrier. And backing the basic research with multi-million dollar secret projects is our aircraft industry.^\8])
The writings about the gravity control propulsion research effort had disclosed the "players" and resources while prudently withholding both the specific features of the research and the identity of its coordinating body. Publicized and telecasted conspiracy theory anecdotes have suggested much higher levels of success to the G-projects than mainstream science.
Ross then says that because of the Echelon project and what he knows about the surveillance of phones, he wrote over 160 hand-written letters to, if I remember correctly, former aerospace employees and university professors from the time who'd gone quiet.
He references the 1953 CIA Robertson Panel's push the debunk the UFO subject entirely.
He talks about Wilbert Smith, head of Project Magnet. Here's the Wiki:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_Magnet_(UFO))

Project Magnet (UFO)

Project Magnet was an unidentified flying object (UFO) study programme established by Transport Canada in December 1950 under the direction of Wilbert Brockhouse Smith, senior radio engineer for Transport Canada's Broadcast and Measurements Section. It was formally active until mid-1954 and informally active (without government funding) until Smith's death in 1962. Smith eventually concluded that UFOs were probably extraterrestrial in origin and likely operated by manipulation of magnetism.
History
Smith made a request to use the facilities of the Department of Transport to study UFOs. The project was formally approved on December 2, 1950, with the intention to collect data about UFOs and apply any recovered data to practical engineering and technology. The ultimate goal of the project was to apply any findings on the subject of geomagnetism to the possibility of exploiting Earth's magnetic field as a source of propulsion for vehicles. Smith and his colleagues in government believed that UFOs, if real, might hold the key to this new source of power. A small-scale undertaking, the project used DOT facilities, with some assistance from personnel at the Defence Research Board (DRB) and the National Research Council). In June 1952 Smith issued a preliminary report arguing that UFOs likely came from intelligent, extraterrestrial sources and almost certainly manipulated magnetism for flight. A 1953 report reiterated these conclusions. Also in April 1952 the Canadian government established Project Second Storey, a parallel UFO research project, with Smith also involved. It consisted of a group of scientists and military officers who met periodically to consider the UFO question and to recommend government action. Smith reported to Second Storey on some of Project Magnet's findings and conclusions.^\1])#cite_note-Library_and_Archives_of_Canada-1)
Smith believed UFOs were linked to psychic phenomena ^\2])#citenote-Denzler2003-2) and believed himself to be in contact with extraterrestrial beings who communicated to him through telepathy.[^\3])](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_Magnet(UFO)#citenote-Clark2000-3) Smith wrote a number of articles for Topside, the publication of the Ottawa New Sciences Club which he founded, outlining the philosophy of the "Space Brothers" with whom he claimed to be in contact.[^\4])](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_Magnet(UFO)#citenote-Craig1995-4) The articles were later collected and published posthumously in 1969 under the title The Boys from Topside.[[5]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_Magnet(UFO)#cite_note-Smith1969-5)
Smith then tracked down physicist Robert Sarbacher in 1950.
https://science.howstuffworks.com/space/aliens-ufos/ufo-government10.htm

Robert Sarbacher Confirms UFO Crash

A remarkable interview occurred in Washington, D.C., on September 15, 1950, but the content did not leak out until the early 1980s, when Canadian ufologist Arthur Bray found a memo by one of the participants, radio engineer Wilbert B. Smith of Canada's Department of Transport. The memo described a conversation with physicist Robert I. Sarbacher, a consultant with the U.S. Department of Defense Research and Development Board (RDB), at one of the regular meetings Sarbacher and other government scientists conducted with their Canadian counterparts.
Asked about the crash rumors, Sarbacher said they were "substantially correct." He said UFOs "exist. . . . We have not been able to duplicate their performance. . . . All we know is, we didn't make them, and it's pretty certain they didn't originate on the Earth." The issue was so sensitive that "it is classified two points higher even than the H-bomb. In fact it is the most highly classified subject in the U.S. government at the present time." Sarbacher refused to say more.
Smith, who died in 1961, mounted a small, short-lived UFO investigation, Project Magnet, for his government. Through official channels he tried unsuccessfully to learn more than Sarbacher's cryptic remarks had revealed. After the memo surfaced, ufologists found a listing for Sarbacher in Who's Who in America, citing his impressive scientific, business, and educational credentials.
When interviewed, Sarbacher said he had not personally participated in the UFO project, though he knew those who had, including RDB head Vannevar Bush, John von Neumann, and J. Robert Oppenheimer -- three of America's top scientists in the 1940s and 1950s. He had read documents related to the project and on occasion had been invited to participate in Air Force briefings.
"There were reports that instruments or people operating these machines were also of very light weight, sufficient to withstand the tremendous deceleration and acceleration associated with their machinery," Sarbacher told an inquirer in 1983. "I remember in talking with some of the people at the office that I got the impression these 'aliens' were constructed like certain insects we have observed on Earth, wherein because of the low mass the inertial forces involved in operating of these instruments would be quite low. I still do not know why the high order of classification has been given and why the denial of the existence of these devices." Sarbacher could not recall where the crashes had taken place, but he did remember hearing of "extremely light and very tough" materials recovered from them.
Sarbacher's story never varied, and he resisted the temptation to elaborate or speculate. All who interviewed him were impressed. Still, his story could not be verified, since the persons he named were all dead. Sarbacher himself died in the summer of 1986.
Processing img ui54nqov9w4d1...

And Smith said that Sarbacher outed Vannevar Bush, the first scientific advisor to the President under the Manhattan Project.

There's lots to dig up on this sub about Bush and Oak Ridge Laboratory, which is were Sean Kirkpatrick now works.

https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1atdypo/the_leaked_mj12_documents_which_stated_the_names/
Ross says that he was given the names of key Canadian scientists to look into who have been working with US scientists.
He brings up how physicist Thomas Townsend Brown, who I posted about recently, and which I did not know, was the first head of NICAP, and wanted to go public about UFOs.
https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1csdviz/100_years_ago_an_american_inventor_named_thomas/
At the time, people stopped reporting UFOs to the Air Force out of frustration because they weren't taking them seriously, just like today with AARO.
Roscoe H. Hillenkoetter, the first director of the CIA, tried blowing the whistle on UFOs a year after he left office. This video's pretty famous around here now.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-MbGYAv7Cg
Roscoe H. Hillenkoetter was the third Director of Central Intelligence (DCI), and first Director of the Central Intelligence Agency (May 1947 – October 1950). After retiring from the CIA in 1950, Hillenkoetter warned J. Edgar Hoover of Agency’s “corruption”: https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2018/aug/29/Hillenkoetter-hoove
After his CIA post, he resumed active duty and was eventually promoted to Vice Admiral in 1956. His final post was Inspector General of the Navy, finally retiring on May, 01 1957, after which he served on the Board of Governors for the civilian National Investigations Committee on Aerial Phenomena from 1957 until 1962.
Says there was a crashed disc with windows found in Afghanistan post-9/11 that the Russians beat the US to.
He then talks about an Australian AF photographer whisked away in secret, and unbeknownst by the Australian AF, by the British AF to fully photograph a crashed UFO in a jungle, who was then forced to develop his film in front of the British AF folks, after which the film was confiscated. This means there's no Chain of Command and plausible deniability. Who would this photographer have reported to? Who would have believed him?
During the rebuilding of Kuwait following the American invasion of Iraq, an Australian office was set up that was bugged by the UK's MI6 so that the UK could win commercial contracts to reverse-engineer crash-recoveries over the Australians. Now making more sense that the "UFO too big to move" had the US Embassy built over it in 2006/2007.
Talks of a crash-retrieval in Europe and a secret Cold War between US, Russia, and China over downed craft that is still ongoing
My biggest takeaway, the fact that we're still shooting them down, like over Alaska in early 2023, is a moral stain on First Contact
After all the letters he wrote, he started getting responses flooding in. He emphasizes his need to protect sources. But one source did allow him to use his name, as he was dying of cancer: Nat Kobitz.
Kobitz was the Chief R&D officer, Research and Development, for the US Navy:
https://www.linkedin.com/in/nat-kobitz-38874478/
https://memorials.sollevinson.com/nat-kobitz/4600662/obit.php?&printable=true
Here's Nat Kobitz in a 1993 Navy memo included on the Defense Technical Information Center website:
https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://apps.dtic.mil/sti/tpdf/ADA306545.pdf&ved=2ahUKEwjD4IT2scaGAxV_HEQIHYHxPMYQFnoECBEQAQ&usg=AOvVaw1b5UHIG0q-7bDDOtRX_8B6
According to Ross, Kobitz was read into the crash-retrieval program following multiple NHI crashes to help reverse-engineer them. At one point, he was flown to Wright-Patterson and taken underground to a crashed craft bulkhead, and he told Ross that the skin and bulkhead were crafted in a way that defied human science. That they were composites, bonded at an atomic level, and suspected it was NHI tech. He felt that US citizens had a right to know, and that's why he was coming forward in his last days.
Those letters Ross was getting were from people who knew Kobitz and had encouraged him to get in touch with Ross about The Program.
Ross says that people had been threatened they'd be killed if they ever talked about it, and some possibly have been. Lines up with Ross's statements about his information coming forward if anything happens and Lue Elizondo's recent tweet about how he has no intention of harming himself.
https://www.reddit.com/UFOs/comments/1ct05y0/lue_elizondos_statement_from_the_good_trouble_show/
Ross ends by saying that he's involved with the Australian Non-Human Intelligence Research Institute, the first organization of its kind in the Australasian region.
https://nhir.org/home
The Institute is being funded by the generous support of neuroscientist and businessman, Dr. Anton Uvarov.
https://nhir.org/about/people
According to Ross:
"We plan to fund collaborative scientific research projects into Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena. And we are very interested in funding generously collaborations with scientists worldwide.
We're already working with Dr. Beatriz Villaroel who's already working who is also presenting at the conference (and who is also part of SOL and presented at their conference) to assist her superb research into astronomical transients.
Another planned project is the construction of absolutely state-of-the-art observation stations that will be placed in UAP hotspots. These will be mobile, using absolutely best-case, top-of-the-line technology. We hope they will collect extensive data on UAP."
NHIR's Mission Statement:

NHIR Institute - Our Mission Statement

• To advance science: To encourage, support, progress and advance the scientific study of Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena that is linked to non-human intelligence.
  
• To foster collaboration: To facilitate collaboration with credentialed scientists, with aligned values, to conduct rigorous empirically driven research into the phenomenon.
  
• To encourage innovation: To encourage innovative approaches to non-human intelligence research and to tackle the issues and challenges arising from such research. The collective goal of the NHIR Institute’s team and the credentialed scientists we collaborate with is that our research findings will contribute to the development of key solutions for the current and future challenges facing our planet.
  
• To educate: To share our research findings and provide an informed scientific basis to educate the public as well as key decision makers. In encouraging reasoned, logical, and inclusive discussion, the Institute aims to help remove the stigma and taboo that currently exists around discussion relating to the phenomenon.
  
• To advance policies: To draw on our research findings to advise and work with policymakers, key decision-makers and regulators to contribute to sound, inclusive and socially responsible policy making.
  
• To promote and grow a cross-border approach to policy making: NHIR Institute will initiate a plan to form a cross border Interparliamentary Alliance to contribute to policy making which better serves and protects the world we live in.
  
• To advance ethical and responsible practice: To advocate for ethical and socially responsible practices in non-human intelligence research. While NHIR Institute supports public disclosure about the phenomenon from governments, most importantly for its critical research value, we emphasise that we respect the need to protect national and global security.
  
• To provide support and advice: To provide support and advice to governmental bodies, research organisations and private enterprise in the advancement of non-human intelligence research with rigorously tested and reviewed data driven scientific research. Part of this support will see NHIR Institute sponsoring events which are aligned with our purpose of advancing science and policies relating to the phenomenon.
  
• To foster transparency: Within privacy law and other legal constraints, NHIR Institute pledge to increase transparency and encourage open discussion, supported by research, for the benefit of the wider public.
  

I recently started watching the show again, and my partner and I frequently discuss politics. We're both very left leaning. However, whenever we have a conversation regarding women's/reproductive/LGBTQ+/etc. rights, if I bring up the descent into authoritarianism that one side in particular is trying to push towards, he tells me that there is no way anything like that would ever happen realistically, basically bc people wouldn't allow it to happen. Not necessarily in a way that dismisses vigilance, but to try to put anxieties to bed. (And yes, he knows that every punishment/law in place in Gilead is/was at some point used in the real world somewhere.) I know THT was written decades ago, before the dawn of the internet and the ability to quickly spread information/organize/etc., and obviously people are a lot more incompetent than we give them credit for (look at Jan. 6th).
That said... it still feels like the possibility is still there, and like I need to have an escape plan. Even with general resentment towards the insane views espoused by Gilead (I keep thinking of that one scene where Serena gives a speech on a college campus amid protestors). And hell, the internet might even be making it worse. Because seemingly unlikely shit not endorsed by the masses can and will happen. The closeness of the 2020 election, despite everything that happened. Ultra-conservatives swaying voters on hot-button issues like immigration and economics while Trojan-horsing in their medieval views on reproductive rights and such. The fact that such medieval views aren't necessarily dying out with the boomers, bc we do have younger far-right politicians. Roe v. Wade overturning. Voter disenfranchisement. Rampant misinformation. The electoral college. Fucking Project 2025. And I'm even more concerned for my LGBTQ+ colleagues that aren't cis/straight-passing.
Maybe I'm just really heavily influenced by the media I consume and all the opinions I read online. Maybe it's the anxiety.
So... what do y'all think? I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts on this. (Not looking for advice or reassurance, just a discussion.)

Somebody mentioned that failure is a big part of this sub's discussion, and how there's very few success stories, or anything with a positive spin.
I've posted this before – this is my own personal journey through the world of design up until now... but I feel like some of you could use it now.
Hell, I can use it. It's been a rough couple of months.
In 2008 I was sitting in a conference room with three of my design professors.
We were having a meeting regarding my "progress as a designer" in my Graphic Design program. The university I was attending was one of the most aggressively exclusive programs in the state....but it also churned out some of the best designers on the market. Alumni had gone on to run their own [very successful] agencies across the country, they had exclusive contracts with big-name brands....the works. It was everything, and more.
My dad had endured the same program back in the 80s, and he went on to run his own agency and had seen much success over the course of his career. I had always wanted to follow in my dad's footsteps and it just made sense to me, being an artist myself, to attend the same university, study the same thing he did. I had a great childhood because of his hard work I wanted to give my future-family the same kind of life I had growing up.
I really didn't see myself doing anything else.
And now I was sitting in front of my three professors, doing my best not to break down into tears as they told me my work wasn't "meeting expectations" and that if I didn't have a stellar portfolio by the end of the semester for portfolio review, I would be kicked out of the program.
The director of the program, and my main professor, Mary, told me to my face: "I don't think you have what it takes to make it in the world of design. You're just not 'getting it'. You struggle with some basic concepts, you're too focused simply on 'making things look cool', and....honestly, I just don't think you're cut out for it." (I'm paraphrasing, this was a while ago and my memory is fuzzy. It was just bad). Mary was absolutely ruthless, she had zero tolerance for failure. She told it "like it is" whether it was constructive or not.
The other professors had similar remarks and I was warned that I already had one foot out the door.
I was failing my dream, and I remember leaving the conference room to the lonely 2-mile walk back to my shitty college-apartment, and I absolutely broke down into a sobbing mess of tears. Snot-bubbles, the hard kind of "don't-look-at-me" type of crying.
I mean, for chrissakes, THIS WAS MY DREAM. I always wanted to be a designer. Some kids wanted to be an astronaut or a firefighter, whatever – this was ME. I felt like I was letting my dad down, I felt like I was letting myself down...I felt so lost, and confused. The program was absolutely ruthless, these were top designers who had spent time in those Mad Men New York agencies, Chicago, etc. And here they were telling me I wasn't cut out for it.
To make matters worse, I wasn't aware that my roommate, Jared, was home at the time and he had just seen his friend walk through the door, and collapse into a sobbing mess right in front of him. Jared was in his underwear, as usual. Eating cereal off a plate because he was a fucking slob. He wasn't in design, at all. In fact, I don't remember exactly what he was studying....but he always knew what to say.
Jared came up to me, and the first thing I noticed was that he wasn't wearing pants. Jared never put on pants before noon. He offered me a beer and said, "Hey man, wanna watch cartoons?"
I took his beer and we sat on the couch and watched UNDERDOG on our shitty 13" TV/VCR combo propped up by some milk crates (this shows my age). After a couple of beers I was starting to feel better, and with my head buzzing I asked, "Why are we watching this?"
Jared just kinda laughed and he's like, "I fucking LOVE Underdog, man. He's the best. He's like....Superman, but for a dog, y'know?". I loved that 60s animation style. Underdog was goofy and weird, and while I found it strange I identified with such an old cartoon, it was oddly soothing for that shitty day I was having.
I was too embarrassed to call my dad for help...just to ask some advice. In hindsight he would have given me a great pep-talk and gave me some good direction. But I wanted to do this all by myself.
Which is why I was inevitably kicked out of the program.
And the thing is, I TRIED my damndest to succeed. I really did...
But my portfolio wasn't up to their standards and they wound up placing me in a marketing/advertising program that was more geared toward sales. I was heartbroken. I was a fucking mess. I was lost, I didn't know what to do with myself. I had failed, and reluctantly, I picked myself up, and carry on.
Ironically, I killed it in my communications and marketing classes. I got high marks across the board. Lots of 'atta-boy' (if you will). I wound up graduating with a degree in marketing... who'd have thought, I was great at every other aspect of the business outside of design...
But it wasn't enough for me. That aspect of the business wasn't creative enough for me and I thought of myself as a fraud.
A year post-grad, I got a job as a t-shirt designer in the art department of a factory. By any measure, it was the worst job I ever had. Management treated you like garbage, you were paid peanuts, we were often spit-on and told we were expendable (all the while making cheap knock-off t-shirts of popular brands). Factory-floor employees were paid so little that during the holidays, we often had fundraisers so that they could buy their kids christmas presents. It was a shitty place to work and to this day I still give it the middle-finger every time I drive by.
But here, of all places, I was treated as a designer.
I got to work in InDesign, Illustrator, Photoshop...I had my own desk, with my own tools at my disposal... goddamnit, despite all of it – I was on cloud 9. To make things better, I discovered I wasn't alone. The entire art department was filled with people like myself who faced rejection, they were kicked out of a design program here or there, they couldn't "make it" because they weren't "good enough" or their portfolio wasn't "what the big agencies were looking for". Whatever it was, this art department was our island of Misfit Toys. For two years I worked with an entire group of other people like myself who wound up making these shitty t-shirts because they had nowhere else to go.
To this day I'm still very close friends with that group of idiots, and everyday I miss them. This was nearly 15 years ago, now.
Because we were paid shit, I kinda fell into doing gig-posters for local punk-rock bands. These guys were broke as fuck too, they often paid me in beer or show tickets. Sometimes, both. They liked that I could draw well in marker, and added with that punk-rock photo-copy look of the flyers, I started gaining some notoriety. There was a lot of failure in that, too, from people stiffing me to people not liking some of the stuff I did, to other people trashing my drawings...but I still got the chance to do all of it, and I was just happy to be able to feel like an artist.
I didn't like that my "calling card" was just my name, I felt like it would be more professional if I had some kind of identity. I thought back to that cartoon I watched with my pantless-roommate. I loved that 60s-style aesthetic in illustration, it matched my style. I drew up a goofy little logo on a napkin that I still use to this day (really should update it)
That's when I founded Underdog Creative. Because that's exactly what I was.
Slowly I started getting "clients" from these bands, building an audience. I mean, I was just drawing some shit and sometimes laying stuff out on computer. I threw these into a portfolio and after a couple years of doing it, I interviewed at an agency on a whim and the director was what you would call an "old school pro" who loved the aesthetic of my illustrations. It helped that he was a former rocker himself, too. We'll call him Teddy.
Teddy took me under his wing for the next 4 years, mentoring me in every facet of the business...teaching me leagues more than college ever did. He didn't care that I was kicked out of the design program. He didn't care that I couldn't "bat at the big-leagues" level.
"Hell, I couldn't stand any of those pricks!" Teddy guffawed when I talked to him about those big fancy New York agencies.
He taught me how to apply my skillset to abstract ideas, how to build off concepts and mold ideas into something tangible. During that time I became an ace at illustrator. Teddy was just at a stage in his life when he was more concerned with mentoring young talent, and it just kind of showed.
After those 4 years, Teddy retired and I left the job. I was ready for something different.
Sidenote, I heard through the grapevine that Teddy has passed. So long, Teddy. Onto your next adventure. Thanks again... for everything.
After everything I had learned, I was ready to go for another agency....this one was more high-profile. More exclusive. I presented my work, and they saw some potential and hired me in on a contractual basis. If I were to "exceed their expectations", they would offer me a full-time gig.
So I worked my days at the agency, and nights as Underdog. By this time I was getting more high-profile clients in the local music scene, and getting some small-business attention, too.
I remember one evening I did a small job for a friend-of-a-friend. Just a simple wedding invite, with some additional stationary. I remember I gave it to her, and she burst into tears.
Oh my god she fucking hates it
"I LOVE IT!" She sobbed. "Oh my god, it's like, you knew exactly what was in my head, this...I just...." she's wiping away tears. "I love it, I love it, I love it!"
She wrapped me in a tight hug and then she says, "I'm so glad we went with an actual designer!"
I had spent 4 years with Teddy, and many more doing punk-rock flyers. Teddy believed in me, and those shitty punk-rock bands gave me props for my work.
But that blushing-bride with her eyes soaked in tears is what gave me the validation I so desperately craved. It wasn't just about the work. It was about the people.
After my contract was up, the agency hired me in full-time and, at the same time, Underdog hit its 100th contract....I was finally making some "real money" and all those people who spit on me, told me I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't 'going to make it', that 'my work wasn't up to snuff'....it was all just noise that was far and away.
That was about 6 years ago.
I still do Underdog on the side, but my attention is primarily focused on my day-job. I'm a senior-level designer with a skillset in illustration, animation, video editing, design and layout. I work hand-in-hand with the art director who regards me not just as a colleague but a friend and they value my opinion.
I have my own office.
People bring me projects to sign off on, per MY approval.
Two summers ago, I was actually invited to my old college design program, to attend a senior portfolio review. I got to sit down with up-and-coming design students (like yourself), listen to what they have to say, see their work and give them a realistic scope on what to expect post-graduation.
I shook Mary's hand, looked her dead in the eye and smiled. I don't know if she remembered me, honestly. But I remembered her, and all I could think of was: "I win."
MORAL OF THE STORY
You're going to fail. A LOT.
It happens. Especially in design...any designer worth their weight in salt here can tell you that. There's some real horror stories out there.
This line of work is very cut-throat. It's brutal. You'll run into a lot of nasty people who live for nothing more than to tear down your work and make you feel 2-inches tall. You'll make mistakes and you'll have a shitty boss who screams "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU? ARE YOU STUPID? THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" so loud that other people can hear it, and you'll have to force a smile and apologize. You'll have a myriad of shitty experiences and failures. Some of that stuff is in your control, some of it is not.
DO NOT LET THOSE FAILURES DEFINE YOU
It's OKAY to feel like a failure, or that you're not "getting it". Everybody goes through it.
If this is really want you want to do, stick with it. In any capacity you can. Do work on the side, even if it's just for beer money. Or beer. Or whatever. Do it for free. Whatever it takes to get some experience. Just do it because you love it. Expect failure, and embrace it. Learn from it. Look at everything – magazines, websites, blogs, whatever you find inspiring.
Someday, you'll have a bride-to-be hugging you so tight you think your eyeballs will pop out of your head as she shrieks, "I LOVE IT! YOU DID SUCH AN AMAZING JOB!!!"
Someday, you'll have a boss hand you a bonus check for $10,000, with an iron-like grip on your shoulder as you slowly go into cardiac-arrest because this is the most goddamn money you've ever seen, holy fucking shit and they'll tell you, "You've earned this, thank you for all the hard work this year."
Someday you'll stand on a podium at an awards ceremony holding a little trophy in recognition of all your design work. Maybe even give a short little speech thanking the team, because you couldn't have done it without that group of misfits at your side.
but you have to stick with it, if it's really what you want to do
Most importantly, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep designing.
There's an army of misfit artists out there who believe in you. Me included.
Keep up the good work.