I graduated spring 2022 and started my first corporate job December 2023. We just finished performance review season and currently making 72k (65k before) so this is probably what it’s staying at till next year’s review. (June 2025)
My manager is super super SUPER nice, company was previous f500, chill, no micro management. I’m so thankful for him/her giving me this opportunity and taking this chance on me.
SCM - but i literally work like an hour a day. (have 2 meetings a day at most).
3 days in office (15 min commute).
I’m located in HCOL (nyc) so it’s def a struggle being young and not able to do things my friends are doing.(traveling, saving, going out/eating out consistently).
Should I start looking for a new job or am I dumb for even considering letting go an easy opportunity.
I just feel like im not making enough money to enjoy nyc life…

Article: https://www.useyourbrainforex.com/post/us-dollar-rises-amid-import-price-surge-and-job-market-strength
The US dollar experienced a significant increase on Thursday, fueled by a 0.9% rise in import prices and a strong job market report. This development has raised concerns about persistent inflation and potential delays in the Federal Reserve's plans to reduce interest rates.
Key Points:

1. Import Prices Surge: The latest data revealed a 0.9% increase in import prices for the previous month. This is the largest monthly rise since March 2022, when import prices surged by 2.9%. The Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) highlighted that the last monthly decline in import prices occurred in December.
2. Strong Labor Market: The number of new jobless claims dropped by 10,000 to a seasonally adjusted 222,000 for the week ending May 11. This figure aligns closely with economists' forecasts and underscores the resilience of the US labor market.
3. Market Sensitivity to Inflation: Brian Daingerfield from NatWest Markets emphasized the market's sensitivity to inflation indicators, noting that the Federal Reserve is looking for consistent progress across various economic metrics before making decisions on interest rates.
4. CPI Data and Market Expectations: Although recent CPI data was not as severe as feared, it did not significantly change market expectations regarding the Fed's actions. The cautious stance contributed to the dollar's rebound.
5. Economic Uncertainty: The mixed economic data creates a complex landscape for investors, balancing expectations of potential rate cuts with the reality of ongoing inflationary pressures.
6. Expert Insights: Steven Ricchiuto from Mizuho Securities USA pointed out that jobless claims between 200,000 and 250,000 indicate a healthy job market. He also suggested that the market might be prematurely judging the inflation trajectory, as inflation remains above the target.

Overall, the US dollar's rise is a reflection of both strong economic indicators and underlying inflation concerns. As the Federal Reserve navigates these challenges, market participants remain vigilant about potential shifts in monetary policy.
Stay updated on the latest economic trends and insights!

https://libriincogniti.wordpress.com/2021/02/25/kommunistisches-programm-national-revolution-and-downfall-of-cambodia/

The Events after the Fall of Phnom Penh and the Programme of Khieu Samphan, the Peasantry and the Enablers of Capital
With the end of the Indochina war in 1975, not much remained of Cambodia’s economy either. More than half of the rice fields lay fallow, and the few industrial enterprises, the port facilities in Kampong Som, the railway lines and the bridges had been destroyed by US bombs. Although the figures are not unambiguous, their magnitude alone shows what heavy blood sacrifice imperialism also demanded of this people: In the five years of war, around 800,000 people were killed, more than 40,000 were maimed, almost 200,000 were wounded.
The constant flow of refugees inflated the capital from its original population of around 600,000 to over 3 million, meaning that by the end of the war almost half of the Khmer people were crammed into their metropolis. As is well known, the imperialist world press howled in horror and disgust when it learned of the forced exodus of this human aggregation. The US bombardment drove people from the countryside into the cities – the revolutionary nationalists had to force them back. Both actions were cruel and devastating for those affected, because both times they happened under terrible conditions, the first time under the imperialist hail of bombs and the coercion of its local police, the second time under the pressure of hunger and the state coercion of the newly installed revolutionary patriotic power. But for the imperialist propaganda machine there were no connections here. Of course, it only saw the terror of the Khmer Rouge, so supposedly of Communism. Here again was a wonderful opportunity to play out the bourgeois farce of humanism and love of one’s neighbour to the full. No mention of the mass murders in the imperialist war against the Southeast Asian peoples, no mention of the unspeakable destruction of these only weakly industrialised agrarian societies. These sacrifices were noticed at most when the insane war spending of the USA threatened to drag the entire imperialist West into the vortex of economic problems as a result of the currency crises caused by it. After all, to this day, these gentlemen are consistently proud of their efforts to preserve “freedom”.
Cambodia became the main object of these friends of mankind over the next few years. Here, indeed, all cherished values and conceptions were thrown overboard. A state without money, without postal services, without cars and motorbikes, without public transport, without telephones, television, books and the cities extinct. Only “communists” could have committed this crime; as is well known, they can be trusted with anything inhumane and in Cambodia they truly acted as the incarnation of “darkness” and “evil”. What was perpetrated before in the name of the heroes of “light” and “reason” – not a word about that, of course. It was a central organ of the imperialist offensive on the human intellect – Reader’s Digest – that first announced in 1977 that at least 1.2 million people had been murdered in the two years since the fall of Phnom Penh. Ever new figures were quickly added, which journalists claimed to have learned from the numerous refugees. It is not necessary to assume that all these reports were forgeries, because in fact the Khmer Rouge set an extremely radical course from the beginning, which certainly brought much horror, misery and also deaths. But today’s sated imperialists should perhaps sometimes look at the history books: What misery, what terror, what torment against the population is archived there – and that over centuries. The French Revolution also produced at least 100,000 deaths in the most important four years – and it did so with a machine specially designed for the purpose. It was not by chance that it was the steam engine and the guillotine that inaugurated the industrial age in a revolutionary way. But do the distinguished British gentlemen, who even then scoffed at these butchers in Paris, have fewer lives on their consciences? Those who still don’t know have to have it written on their cheat sheets all the time: The establishment of bourgeois rule has always been brutal and extremely bloody. The destruction of the traditional smallholder form of economy, the annihilation of small-scale trade and crafts always passed over those affected like a merciless steamroller. And under unspeakable tortures, the majority of these people who were expropriated without compensation were pressed into the factories and, if necessary, forced by brutal violence to slave as many hours of their day as possible for the lowest possible wages. All that was not so long ago. But it is always amusing how hastily today’s representatives of capital pretend that these are youthful sins of foreign predecessors. And this process of constant dressing for factory labour, of the destruction of both man and nature, continues both in depth and in breadth. It will only come to an end when this capitalist basis has been revolutionarily annihilated because of the contradictions it constantly produces.
...
However, if one wants to understand the “mysterious” processes in Cambodia, one has to be clear above all about the material and social conditions. A devastated country that was still largely worked by small peasants; a chaotically bloated capital city to which the majority of these same peasants had fled. The terror of the bombs had charged this population, once peaceful and living in the eternal grind of farm labour, with fear, but above all with unbridled rage and blind hatred. Hatred against the city in which they had to take refuge, anger against the American bombers which destroyed their existence, but particularly anger against their own corrupt aristocracy, the military as well as the city dwellers in general who sought to prolong their raison d’être by making a pact with imperialism. Now the old mixture of foreignness, subservient spirit and unease found its general discharge in a primal hatred of the rural population for their oppressors in the cities. A frenzy of revenge arose, which certainly accounted for most of the brutalities in the first year of liberation.
In order to understand this social side of this revolution in Cambodia, which gave it the ferocious expression of blood, revenge and chaos that one encounters in practically every revolution carried out mainly by peasants, one must always bear in mind the social structure already described. The strong urban-rural divide was not between agriculture and industry – the latter was practically non-existent – but it was the extreme contrast between agriculture and all the ominous trades that bourgeois statistics usually classify under the heading of “services”. Here, actually “unproductive” administration and trade – moreover, predominantly created and nourished in the service of imperialism – and “productive” agriculture faced each other. Of the “peace population” in Phnom Penh of about 600,000, this included about 200,000 Vietnamese and over 100,000 Chinese, out of a total of about 800,000. So the Cambodians did not even make up the majority of the population in their capital. Aristocracy and officials on one side, poor peasants on the other, too poor to make a living in the countryside, coming to the city because they hoped for a job, or later bombed into it. Cambodians were almost completely excluded from the trade and merchant sectors. These sectors were mainly in the hands of the Chinese and Vietnamese.
In this approaching whirlwind of social unrest on the part of the peasants, which is growing in strength, another social force tries for its survival. Young intellectuals, most of them educated in Paris, the educational centre of the former colonial ruler, want to break the corrupt tangle of local aristocracy and foreign power by force. Without any reservoir in the own ranks of the urban bourgeoisie, for the latter is practically non-existent and if it is, then hardly to be enthused for nationalist accumulation programmes with a more rigorous cut; without a proper bourgeois class, these petty-bourgeois radicals lead a practically hopeless struggle for change. Forced very soon into the rural underground by Sihanouk’s authoritarian regime, they try to implement their programme of industrialisation based on agriculture with the help of the only social class that counts – namely the rural population, the small peasants and farm workers.
...
One simply has to quote these illuminating passages of the Khmer Rouge’s “chief ideologist” at length, because after all the imperialist wailing, one probably does not think it possible that these “monsters” can think at all. (A Trotskyist group, persistent in its obtuseness, even opined that these “monsters” were the embodiment of… a return to feudalism!) One thing is immediately quite clear: these petty-bourgeois intellectuals, widely referred to as Marxists, communists, etc., are never ever in the tradition of the “German” Karl Marx, but of the German Friedrich List, who, under the slogan “Freedom is the goal, limitation is the necessity”, set his protectionist credo against the imperialist ideology of the free traders in the last century. The Khmer Rouge leaders are thus spiritual sons of the ancestors of today’s imperialists, those imperialists who now see in them the personified devil of communism, although they only wanted to be flesh of their flesh.
These views of Samphan and thus the leaders of the Khmer Rouge were also quoted at length because they are so popular today. In the face of the growing exploitation of the countries of the so-called Third World by Western imperialism, theories are emerging everywhere that vehemently propose the same position of “cutting off” the “underdeveloped” countries from the dominance of the world market ruled by Western capital as a panacea. And it is certainly no coincidence that one of the main representatives of these academic “revolutionaries”, the Egyptian Samir Amin, raves about the radicalism of the Khmer Rouge even after their expulsion and predicts a chain of new “Kampucheas” for the African future. Against the massive reality of the increasing internationalisation of capital and the growing global control of Western and increasingly Eastern imperialism, such “progressive” petty-bourgeois theorists place their faith in autarky, national accumulation and so-called autocentric development. Against the capitalist propaganda of progress and prosperity through freedom of trade and capital investment, which in reality in fact produces nothing but growing pauperisation and exploitation, the Good News on the other side says: Only if one can free oneself from imperialism at least for as long as it takes to be able to develop one’s productive forces independently, only then will one achieve prosperity and security for humanity.
In this respect, both sides represent only two sides of the same coin. Both claim to be able to achieve “the greatest happiness for the greatest number” within the framework of and through capitalism – as the forefather of these bourgeois tendencies, Adam Smith, already formulated this elementary lie of capital.
...
The utopians of capital have to acknowledge time and again that, contrary to their proclamations, the social antagonisms both within the “developed” and “underdeveloped” countries and between these countries are becoming increasingly acute. And while capitalism is pushing the development of the productive forces ever more sharply in order to satisfy its insatiable hunger for surplus value, it is precisely because of this highly productive technology that it is less and less able to transform the pauperised masses into active proletarians, i.e. to force them to the machines or into the office. While the imperialists, in their frenzied mania for surplus value, are at least throwing the whole world into growing unrest and undermining ancestral immobile relations ever more thoroughly, the heralds of an apparently radical autarky are causing nothing but confusion in the ranks of the pauperising masses. They talk of economic independence, stable economic cycles and adapted technology – all concepts that really bring out their illusionist anachronism.
And to see Cambodia of all places as a concrete approach or even an example for the feasibility of such utopias seems almost tragicomic in view of the results that are now available. But it is also a total misreading of the factual development under the Pol Pot government. Demonisation and idealisation of the Khmer Rouge have the same basis. They assume that the measures taken after the conquest of power in Cambodia were deliberate and planned. One side sees only the terror and coercive measures with which the leaders, supported by relatively small armed forces, tried to get a grip on a witch’s cauldron of panic and violence and to escape the total catastrophe of starvation – and the chaos that would ensue in turn. They see this terror and these coercive measures as completely detached from the economic and social emergency. The others confuse the factual state of extreme social backwardness in Cambodia and the emergency measures taken with an economic and social programme.
...
We have outlined the devastating situation in Cambodia shortly before the moment of liberation. However broad and deep the peasant unrest in the countryside may have been at the time, it must be remembered that a large proportion of these peasants stayed in the capital out of necessity during the main phase of the fighting. In any case, the Khmer Rouge, hardly more than 70,000 men anyway, fought for a long time mainly in the sparsely populated outskirts of Cambodia.
When the Khmer Rouge troops approached the capital in 1975 – likely with only about 20,000 men – it soon became clear that it was imperative to deal radically with this hopelessly bloated big head. Estimates vary, but it can be assumed that of the 7-8 million Cambodians, at least 2.5, but probably over 3 million were crammed into the capital (“peace population” as mentioned 600,000). With the severing of the umbilical cord to imperialism, Phnom Penh was up in the air as its former bridgehead. There was no possibility whatsoever to control or even feed this veritable hell of collaborators and starving refugee masses. The general shortage of rice had driven prices to dizzying heights: from 10 riel per kilo in December 1971 to 125 riel in December 1973 and on to 300 riel in early 1975, reaching a record 340 riel in mid-February. The retreat of the imperialists and the advance of the Khmer Rouge must have acted as a double signal: On the one hand, to storm against the hated parasites and the urbanites in general, on the other hand, to return to the countryside in chaos. The Khmer Rouge had to evacuate the city and channel the returning flow to avoid a total catastrophe. The fact that the displaced people left a wide trail of blood behind them on their way out of the city (for the time of the Khmer Rouge government, there is consistent talk of at least 1 million deaths) was unavoidable under the given conditions. It is significant that the majority of the massacres affected the urban population and certain national minorities: precisely intellectuals, military officers of the old Lon Nol regime, Sihanoukists, capitalists, merchants etc., and apart from the Cham (Muslims) almost exclusively the Vietnamese and Chinese minorities, whose social situation we have already pointed out.
Whether it was spontaneous peasant terror or executions organised by the Khmer Rouge, it was partly revolutionary violence against the supporters of the old regime, which as such does not speak against but for the Khmer Rouge, and partly pogroms, which the leaders at most accepted and tried to direct in the interests of the state monopoly on the use of force. But it is not so important whether the Khmer Rouge leaders had to accept or order these massacres. What is decisive is that they were forced by material development to eliminate or to have eliminated precisely those strata on which they wanted to rely. This, together with the evacuation of the cities, deprived them of any social support other than the peasantry. Thus they were at the mercy of this peasantry, which had to be disciplined for the actualisation of their “programme”. The conflict with it was therefore programmed for the time after the famine had been averted.
...
After the worst of the chaos had been overcome, it was attempted to use these structures, which had prevailed in a rather primitive way during the hunger phase, for one’s “industrialisation programme” by maintaining and further intensifying collectivisation. Necessity was to become a capitalist virtue. The complete lack of such “civilisational” achievements as the intercourse of money and commodities was supposed to make for an ideal, indeed classic, “truck system”, i.e. payment in kind alone. The peasants were forced into ever new production battles, because now surpluses were to be produced for export – i.e. for exchange with foreign means of production – which indeed happened and animated the leaders even further. The general command was under the iron slogan: “Work hard and try to achieve maximum results with a minimum of investment”, and the focus was on absolute labour effort.
...
Once a sufficient level of production had been restored, however, the whole construction was bound to collapse completely sooner rather than later. Anyone who has even a pale inkling of the travails of the infamous Stalinist collectivisation in Russia – and the Russian state was on an incomparably higher social level and had quite different means of power at its disposal – can easily imagine how the intellectual would-be enablers of capitalism in Cambodia, then practically hanging in the air, would have to perish in an orgy of violence – unless, with the help of a foreign power, they could get a grip on the chaos and create more stable conditions through a series of concessions to the peasantry. Most likely, however, they would be finished even then, like a man trying to hold on as long as possible to a wildly thrashing bull and then falling to the ground exhausted. In any case, the arena crowd was already eagerly awaiting the outcome of the tragedy.
...
Sovereignty, neutrality, non-alignment – this credo runs through all declarations as a complement to “autarky”. But already in the face of the first offensive by the Vietnamese, it must have slowly become clear to the Khmer Rouge leaders that these fine words could only have one meaning in our unpleasant world, namely to place themselves under the protection of the People’s Republic of China. In Pol Pot’s interview, which we have just quoted, a strange acronym appears: CPK. This means “Communist Party of Kampuchea”. And yet, to the boundless amazement of bourgeois commentators, the Khmer Rouge had never tried to dress up their declarations or their constitution with Marxist or pseudo-Marxist vocabulary – which is certainly very sympathetic to us. On the contrary, they have displayed an obvious and pedantic aversion to these concepts. Neither “vanguard of the proletariat” or “communist party” nor “proletarian internationalism”, neither “classless society” nor “dictatorship of the proletariat”, but also not “new democratic revolution”, “mass line”, “creation of a new man”, “peaceful coexistence” etc. etc. had ever been spoken of. If similar contents had to be expressed, they were paraphrased with other words. But this did not happen because the Pol Pot folks would have been particularly honest and wanted to do us Marxists a favour. This happened because in their dogged nationalism they wanted to distance themselves clearly from their neighbours Vietnam, but also China, who professed to be “socialist”. The national character of all these revolutions and states, the national character of their confrontations and of their whole politics is expressed even in the fact that the weakest link feels compelled by the instinct of self-preservation to dispense with the “Marxist” or “socialist” cloak for the capitalist programme! This is what “socialism in one country” has come to! And the adoption of the “Marxist” “vocabulary” here is a sign of the surrender of the so sacred national sovereignty. If, as already mentioned, no announcement had ever mentioned a party or revolutionary phases (there was always talk of a “revolutionary organisation” and even of “Angkor traditions”), Pol Pot told his astonished people and all those who wanted to know the following story on 27 September 1977: the CPK had already existed in Cambodia since 30 September 1960 and had achieved this miracle of a national-democratic revolution. He told it the day before he left for Beijing, on which, fighting a losing battle against the Vietnamese, he has been completely dependent ever since.
As a “plaything of foreign powers”, the nationalist intellectuals of Cambodia perished. The peasantry, largely decimated under the pressure of the imperialist frenzy and its consequences, as now under the pressure of Vietnam’s national expansion, is an example of the fate that capitalist society reserves for small and weak peoples in its emergence and development. To such peoples the proletariat alone would and will secure the right of self-determination, because unlike the bourgeoisie it does not seek national privileges but wants to abolish them, because unlike the bourgeoisie it can create voluntary union, because unlike the bourgeoisie it liberates itself not by exploiting others but by abolishing all exploitation.

Today something different happened.
My mom just turned 73 and was recently diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. I took her for her CT scan on Mother’s Day. My heart has been breaking over and over since January. She was a brilliant woman and now she is a shell of herself.
We are in Canada, and I am grateful for the healthcare I have access to. Not many people are so privileged.
She currently lives alone in an apartment, and there are people who live in the basement suite. I visit her every couple of days. We went for a nice walk this morning with her dogs, and she seemed happy and fine.
Four or five hours ago, she called me upset, thinking that an Amazon package had been stolen. I logged into her account and saw in the delivery confirmation picture that she was in it, taking the package. She thought it was a jacket she ordered, but it was cat treats. I am going over tomorrow to help her find it before we go out for dinner. Hopefully, she forgets this incident, but this is the first time she has shown such confusion. No matter what I said, she was convinced that the package came when she was out for a walk and was stolen. I had no idea how to get her out of that thought loop. It was totally new.
My next step is to look into finding her a compatible roommate. She has pets, which complicates things. She has two staffies and a few cats. I know it will be a challenge and might not even be possible. I do not want her living with me; she was a chaotic person before she had dementia, and it's even worse now. My basement suite is not suitable for her. It has two egress windows and a stand-up shower; she wouldn’t be happy. Then she would invade my space. I work from home and have ADHD. I struggle to focus, and having her come chill in my living room is a non-starter. Additionally, her dogs would need to come because they get separation anxiety. She cannot go to an adult daycare or senior social groups because she would hate it and has expressed an unwillingness to even consider it. She is a stubborn firecracker who would argue with people and be a contrarian. This is who she is, and I love her. She is also a very charitable person and opened her home to refugees and good people who needed it, a literal saint.
Our next appointment is in two weeks, and we will be reviewing the CT scan with her new geriatric doctor, who she likes. I can’t say that is a good thing. This is going to be a long, hard road. I am literally her only family member other than a cousin who isn’t around. I have my dad, but he has his family, and my half-brothers are on my dad’s side. This falls on my shoulders alone. My fiancé is helpful, and one of my brothers said he would help me, but I have to coordinate all the help, which is a burden in itself. My other brother is not an option. He has been battling stage 4 cancer. It went well; he had surgery this week to remove the last of the tumors. So I am grateful for that.
I was laid off from my Product Owner role in December. I am on EI and do contract work here and there. I need a full-time job. A bit of stability and something I can focus on other than this sadness would be beneficial. My partner and I are also planning our wedding this Fall.
I just want to post this to get it off my chest and share with people who know how it is. This has to be the worst disease; it's so nefarious and toxic.

Hello all!
I am finalizing purchasing a truck for my summer job and I am torn between 2 Tundras.
Tundra A (dealership): 2007 Toyota Tundra SR5 odo 131k RWD, Double Cab, Towing package basically stock features
This Tundra is $12,500, but with dealership fees and tax, it comes to about $14,250.
Tundra B (private): 2010 Toyota SR5 4x4 odo 275k Newly rebuilt engine with 6k miles on it, 4wd, Double cab, towing package, upgraded interior (new stereo and interior upholstery), Complete top end rebuild including timing chain / all gaskets / water pump / heads remilled/ new valves, upgraded bumper and fog lights.
Price of this Toyota comes out to $11,950.
I am completely torn on what decision to make. On the dealership side, it has less miles on it and runs pretty well (went and test drove it earlier), but in the private, its from a car guy so it's more decked out, is better taken care of, and the engine has been rebuilt by a reputable auto shop. I'm just sketched out by the 275k miles. I know Toyota run well into 500k. His reason for selling it is he got a new truck for work and doesn't see a point in keeping both.
I'm just looking for a bit of advice from some of you guys. Thank you.
I do plan on purchasing a warranty for either car, though I understand purchasing a warranty for rebuilt engine can be tasking.

Sober Song #193
exile - Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver
​
I feel like “exile” is fundamentally a song about disappointment and resentment. There are two primary characters in it. One is resentful that the other left and found a new partner. The other is disappointed that their needs were not met in the previous relationship, and possibly resentful that their partner didn’t even try. That’s the literal read of it, but I like to vibe to the song when I’m feeling disappointed by or shut out of anything, even if what I am upset about is completely unrelated. The main reason it is here, though, is one specific lyric: “I think I've seen this film before / And I didn't like the ending”. It’s similar to the AA saying “play the tape forward”, but I guess I like the increased sense of foreboding and retreading old ground. I think about that line of the song every time I’m tempted to get into a situation where I can reasonably predict the outcome will be bad, especially if it is similar to things I have done in the past. It’s easy to want to do self-destructive things when I am feeling lost and disconnected, without a purpose or plan (“You're not my homeland anymore / So what am I defending now?”). Quitting drinking sure felt like banishment for a while, since I had abandoned what had become one of my key support structures for life and not yet figured out how to rejoin sober society (“You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out”). But I watched the movie “Misfit Gets Drunk” so many times, I would have run a film reel ragged. That’s the nature of movies. Mufasa always dies, Darth Vader is always your father, and Bruce Willis was always a ghost the whole time. The same movie always ends the same way, but real life comes with a selection of movies and it’s my job to start picking better ones.
​
I can see you standing, honey
With his arms around your body
Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all
And it took you five whole minutes
To pack us up and leave me with it
Holdin' all this love out here in the hall
​
I think I've seen this film before
And I didn't like the ending
You're not my homeland anymore
So what am I defending now?
You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out
I think I've seen this film before
​
Ooh, ooh, ooh
​
I can see you starin', honey
Like he's just your understudy
Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me
Second, third, and hundredth chances
Balancin' on breaking branches
Those eyes add insult to injury
​
I think I've seen this film before
And I didn't like the ending
I'm not your problem anymore
So who am I offending now?
You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seein' you out
I think I've seen this film before
So I'm leaving out the side door
​
So step right out, there is no amount
Of crying I can do for you
All this time
We always walked a very thin line
You didn't even hear me out (You didn't even hear me out)
You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)
All this time
I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind)
I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around)
'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)
So many signs, so many signs
You didn't even see the signs
​
I think I've seen this film before
And I didn't like the ending
You're not my homeland anymore
So what am I defending now?
You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out
I think I've seen this film before
So I'm leavin' out the side door
​
So step right out, there is no amount
Of crying I can do for you
All this time
We always walked a very thin line
You didn't even hear me out (Didn't even hear me out)
You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)
All this time
I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind)
I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around)
'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)
You never gave a warning sign (All this time)
(So many times) I never learned to read your mind
(So many signs) I couldn't turn things around (I couldn't turn things around)
'Cause you never gave a warning sign (You never gave a warning sign)
You never gave a warning sign
Ah, ah
​
The warning signs are always there and you can always turn things around. You don’t have to keep watching the same film. IWNDWYT <3

Debit/Credit Cards Accepted No Closing Costs Cash Price: $1,650 Finance with $200 Down and 18 Payments of $100 Per Month No Credit Check, No Income Documentation, No Prepayment Penalty 

Dear A,
I was inspired to make a comment in the following post in UnsentLetters 5 months ago. And since it has sent me on a journey back to a time that I had first loved you. To J :
Op you sound like my ex, the detail you have written in your post are scary familiar….
But if you were to be the person I knew.
I remember sharing with you eternal sunshine of a spotless mind and the curious conversation we had after.
I recall our breakup being incredibly difficult for me and looking back I regret going no contact indefinitely. I wish I reached out to you when I saw you walking down the hallway outside of the labs. When I caught your eye as I was waiting in line at IKEA I wish I came up to you and said hi and asked how you were fairing during the pandemic. I miss your beautiful eyes and your cute smile when you would look up at me while we shared a hug.
I’m very sorry I was not strong enough to push through the emotional heartache of our breakup and quickly attain a healthy baseline for myself. It was very difficult for me to plan to have any meeting with you knowing that you were then dating a new guy from your same school. Comments and rumors from mutual friends didn’t help in this regard when they shared with me that your new boyfriend overlapped with the last months we were still in a relationship.
In spite of all this I forgive you. And I forgive myself. Every day I think of you. I think of you when I grab a poke bowl to eat. I remember the first time you shared with me your personal vegan poke bowl recipe topped with siracha vegan mayo sauce. I remember our trips to whole foods to visit the frozen food section to get the edamame for the poke bowls and then grab a raspberry talenti and nada moo mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Every time I would pass the water tower, we visited on our last date I remember the cute photos I took of us with my Nikon DSLR, I still have those photos.
Every time I see a dog that has a white patch of fur across their neck and is wearing a bandana, I think of Rio your rescue dog you adopted in the middle of our relationship. I miss Rio, and his energetic antics and his zoomies from couch to bedroom and back again to couch. Hope Rio is doing well.
If by some chance this is Petite Biscuit, please reach out to me. I will welcome a phone call or text. Wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
Current day 5/16/2024
Not sure you can see my reply, but I have reached out to her(A) and she responded, with excitement, if anything we are following each other on Instagram again, and she's happy and successful at a new job in a new city. I am happy for her.
But I'm struggling right now, I feel as if I have fumbled this reconnection, I totally forgot about how I was a terrible partner in the midst of all that cheating from her. Like how I didn't support or validate my partner when she needed emotional support, nor was I reliable and I definitely did not prove by example what a supportive man can be like in a stable relationship. But you know of course it was not a great foundation to begin with. This is me just being hard on myself.
I have been in two relationships since dating her and I do know the above issues were discussed in previous therapy sessions, but I just forgot because it's no longer an issue in relationships I have now. But I could tell she was cold, and it was only two days after my first contact I realized she is waiting for me to bring up an apology and for me to tell her how I recognize I was wrong for the above things. My replies to her comments when we started talking again were just more examples of my lack of emotional empathy toward what she was saying, now it could just be distance of time, or that I don't recognize the person I'm talking to. but it definitely reminded me of how we were incompatible at the end. Honestly, I don't feel it is merited for me to apologize to her(A).
I cherish those memories but communicating online is insufficient for me, it's not the same as meeting in person. Even still it's been a suggestion from me if their ready to meet in person I am open to that. But I'm not optimistic on the results.
I set out from December of last year with a goal to unpack the mess I have contained within myself about this past relationship. And I am reminded that my life as an individual has grown in a direction, I couldn't have imagined at the time I was with her and if we were still together, I probably would not have obtained my most recent accomplishments. I probably would be stuck. But now I am free.
Take care A, you can stay on my Instagram if you want.
The guy with the deep brown eyes and the hopeless romantic,
-J

Right there boys. Wow.
It’s interesting bc I’ve had other streaks that better results in some areas. My skin is actually breaking out pretty badly. I feel like I have less energy than on any other streak. I don’t know about women, bc I haven’t been on a date or really gone out in 3 months.
But my life has changed in profound ways that 100x any results I’ve had before. Here’s the breakdown:
-professionally, I’m doing better than ever. I started a new career. This job was massively competitive, and I got it over ppl with more experience. I did this by taking a ballsy approach to parts of the interview process and spending every. free. moment. I had on preparing for each round.
Now I’m in a new career, I’m paid more than I’ve ever been paid before. But more than that, I love my new job. Genuinely. And this makes a world of difference in day-to-day life.
Not only that, but I’m delivering. I had a few high pressure situations right out of the gate with this job and fucking delivered. Entire initiatives have been started on my ideas. I’m pretty proud of this, and even better, they’re working.
-better relationship with my kid. Won’t go into detail, but I had a falling out with the mother that lead to her keeping the kid away out of spite. I fought long and hard to get time with my kid. Endless nights gathering and organizing evidence, countless threats and accusations from a woman I used to be deeply in love with who really turned out to be a bad person.
But I won, got so much more time with my kid. And that was great, and I knew my kid liked me. But for the first time the other day, we bonded and I saw that the kid loves me as much as I love them. Money can’t buy that kind of joy.
-quit alcohol, I never really had a problem with drinking, but I just stopped. Overall a waste of time.
-women, while I haven’t gone on any dates, I’m gearing up to go on my first soon. Can’t say I had a problem with women in my life, but it’s coming from a different place now. Don’t need to sex, so if she were to cancel I don’t care. But if we click, then I’m aware that I’m going to give her a vibe that’s hard to find and I’ll make it the best experience I can. Not fancy dinner, but like the vibe. I don’t neeed anything, you relax, we’ll have fun.
-absurd levels of resourcefulness. I can’t tell you how many times over the last 3 months I’ve figured out solutions to seemingly impossible situations. Thinking outside of the box and coming up with innovative solutions is like par for the course now.
In one particular example, someone actively tried to screw me over. But this time, I saw it coming, I planned ahead, sprung the trap, and still came out better than I was before. Seeing things playing out EXACTLY as I predicted was an amazing experience, felt supervilliany. I get why they laugh when they think it’s going their way.
I’ve been reading this book called “antifragile” And that’s had a profound effect. The basic premise is that we thing solid is the opposite of fragile. But the opposite is really “AntiFragile” or something that gets better each time you break it.
There’s so much more I could say, but I’ll do a followup post.

Hello, I am a 27F who was previously very athletic and into heavy weightlifting. Symptoms started in 2021 and fast forward to now and I can’t weight lift, can barely do my work so relying mainly on my partner, and basically feeling like I’m falling apart.
Family history

• Grandmother has severe RA

Medicines:

• Norethindrone birth control, imitrex/sumatriptan, Allegra, just started taking quercetin, tumeric, vitamin D + K, and magnesium. Was on 40mg of prednisone for about a month and recently finished a fast taper last week.

Prior to 2021

• Always had some form of feeling sick when stressed, grandma with RA said she faced similar symptoms when she was younger
• Dealt with radiating pain in right leg (pinched nerve feeling), low back pain here and there which I thought was due to weak erector spinae and imbalance due to scoliosis because once I started weight training back aching went away

2021

• May: Overworked at job and developed severe debilating joint pain. Couldn’t even lift 10lbs and starting limping because knee was hurting so badly. Saw a primary care who ran blood tests (C reactive, RF, and anti-ccp) all came back normal so the doc brushed it off thinking it was just my body’s response to stress and because I’m young I’m probably fine. Quit my job and 3 months later went back to feeling normal. Took x-rays of knees, hips and shoulders. Sports medicine doc said knees showed some wear and tear, shoulder showed more wear and tear from overuse injury and called it osteoarthritis in the shoulders, hips were slightly uneven but nothing too remarkable
• Nov: got COVID that resulted in lost of smell and taste, hair loss, pretty bad brain fog, etc.

2022

• July: Covid again, but mild and still have memory issues
• August: Joint pain and feeling of overtraining without working out started appearing (would appear in cycles/phases where I would suddenly not be able to workout and then be fine for a month then back to not feeling well for the rest of 2022)
• Sudden major mood swings (which later found out linked to high cortisol levels), migraines becoming more frequent but still manageable, increased heart rate randomly while at rest, frequent dizzy spells (I would need to sit down sometimes) but always felt like in some form of lightheaded or dizzy state and just learned to adjust as my new “normal”
• Nov- Jan (’23) Severe unknown respiratory virus that lead to bell’s palsy (recovered now), found enlarged pituitary on MRI when looking at the bells palsy as well as herniated disc with nerve compression in neck (which now explained the constant pain in shoulders on top of overuse injury)
• Sometime in 2022 I started having some back pain but it was different than what I’d previously experienced. Pain in shoulders started flaring again as well

2023

• Jan-March: Tested high on cortisol multiple times and high ACTH once, looked into Cushing’s diagnosis from here until Feb 2024
• May: Covid pretty bad for a third time. I had a high fever, severe body aches, etc. Saw Endoniologist but was moving so they advised I continued care at my next location
• June/July: started to feel better and hoped it was just my body recovering from the 4 viruses
• September: symptoms appeared again, migraine frequency now increasing to a couple times a month
• Oct: overtraining feeling getting worse, at this point I was not working out as often due to the previous times I wasn’t feeling good I adjusted my training to only a few times a week if that.
• December: Migraine has increased to once a week, did not experience any period of feeling better like I did in 2022 where I had phases of feeling better.
  • Saw a new sports medicine doctor for radiating leg pain. Also noted I was feeling spine pain (not muscle but pain in my spine). X-ray didn’t show much so they ordered an MRI and found “L5-S1 mild degenerative disc diseases with small left suarticular zone/foraminal disc protrusion without nerve root compression” even though it stated no nerve compression the doc believed it was still most likely the cause of my leg pain and did a steroid injection in the SI joint which helped for a month but couldn’t explain some of the spine pain I was having. MRI also found “mild joint arthropathy” in L3-L4, “mild hypertrophic facet joint arthropathy” in L4-L5, “left subarticular zone disc protrusion with left foramina extension superimposed on mild diffuse disc bulge. Mild narrowing of the left lateral recess. Mild facet joint arthropathy” in L5-S1.

2024

• Jan: Migraines increase to 2-3 times a week so started on triptans as doc thought it was the same migraines not fully going away. First triptan didn’t really work so started a second one (sumatriptan) and migraine would still last for 2 days (took one pill first day and would help but next day still lingered so would take a second dose and then it would go away). Working out has now changed to be bare minimum (light weight machines)
• Feb: Tested high cortisol again on blood (42, end limit 19), and one salivary cortisol came back high, low vitamin D and increased A1C from October. Referred to endocrinologist again. Endocrinologist PA said severity of symptoms wouldn’t be cushings. Did a dexamethasone test which came back normal and suggested I see Rheumatologist for possible seronegative RA (I didn’t tell the endocrinologist about my previous RA check so when they mentioned if I had heard of RA and I told them I tried testing and it came back negative they then told me about seronegative RA)
• March: Joint symptoms and feeling of overtraining severely increased. Stopped being able to lift weights including machines. Tried to still play volleyball but can barely play. Joint pain now prominent in fingers, wrist and elbows, on top of knees and shoulder pain. Low spine very noticeably in pain. (Not muscular pain, literally pain on the spine). Morning stiffness has increased, back would sometimes feel “stuck” and fingers would ache pretty bad. Weather was also very cold and snowing while randomly switching to 70s and back to snowing which did not help. Migraines calmed down to 2 times a month.
• April: Saw NP at rheumatology who ordered tests and leaning towards RA or AS, more so AS. Placed on high dose of prednisone. Started with 20mg but didn’t help so increased to 40mg which helped (not completely but did notice a difference). On prednisone for about a month (into May). NP took x-rays of hands, hip and feet and said they looked normal. Ordered blood tests which got delayed a month (just received them will note below)
• May/now: Just finished prednisone (was a fast taper from 40 to 30, 20,10,5,5,5) and feeling the pain in my back come back as well as my fingers, elbows, etc. Migraine also came back a lot worse, had a three day long strong migraine that didn’t respond to sumatriptan and had to go to urgent care for a shot. The shot got rid of the migraine for a few days but feeling another one coming back less than a week later.
  • Got MRI with contrast of the pelvic and found “mild pubic symphyseal arthritis with osteophytic ridging and mild degenerative marrow signal change” and again the L5-S1 spondylosis
  • Due to the messed up labs, I had to get my blood drawn for these test while on 40mg on predinose. These were the notable results: High white blood cell count (11.8 x10 3/UL, reference range 3.8-10.8 x 10 3/UL), Low neutrophils (32%, reference range 42-75%), High lymphocytes (65%, reference range 16-52%), High lympocytes (7.7 x 10 3/UL, reference range 1.2-3.4 x 10 3/UL), Low Carbon Dioxide level (23 nmol/L, reference range 24-33 nmol/L). Rheumatoid factor was normal ( <9 IU/ml, reference range 0-12 IU/ml), C-reactive protein extended range was normal (<0.03 mg/dL, reference range 0-0.5 mg/dL). Erythrocyte sedimentation rate normal (4 mm/Hr, reference range 0-19 mm/Hr). Anti-CCP normal (<16 units, reference range <20 negative). My anti-ccp in 2021 was 3 so while it’s still within normal range it did increase. Hep A antibody abnormal (reactive, however I’m pretty sure I received the Hep A vaccine)
  • I feel like having my tests done while on 40mg of prednisone affected my results in a negative way but I’m not sure if it actually affects them or not

Any insights are greatly appreciated as my symptoms are getting noticeably worse with no answers.

TL;DR - Stop letting cis people hold all the power over your access to care. GenderGP has failed our community and that’s it.
Like the title says, let’s talk about GenderGP.
Not about the information I can’t share due to contractual obligations, but the things I can that are a public detriment and largely ethical issues that impact your continuity of care and community safely.
I’m really not interested in someone here gaslighting what all my colleagues went through, telling us to get over it, move on, and enabling Helen to continue what she’s doing with zero accountability.
So please, don’t belittle the absolutely horrific experience we went through because bootlicking Helen sounds more favourable.
In January 2024, we had enough staff. There had been large hiring in the fall to accompany the increase of received pathways. Nine new staff had been taken on from October to December. The majority being community members themselves. The workload was manageable with proper leadership and guidance.
Let’s remember that our community already deals with significant socioeconomic factors that make it difficult to find jobs at all. The large majority of us were passionate about this area of work, both because we had lived experiences, and because we wanted to make a difference in what we couldn’t achieve in public healthcare with the prevalent systemic issues. Many of us had multiple jobs or were going to school as well.
We were contractors (the people remaining still are) with limited rights. We knew what that meant. Our contracts stipulated that if we were to have our contracts ended, OR if we decided to leave the company, we’d need to give or be given 60 days notice. We could be terminated for a number of reasons, none of them listed on the contracts stated for “restructuring.” Note: all of the new contracts after spring do not have this clause, they can fire people without notice or reason, and already have.
Our entire functionality of services - from the portal that was used, CRM that existed, records, etc., was absolutely outdated, there is no denying that. There were a lot of places to pull information from that made tasks difficult. But all of the teams knew their roles and where to get the information so that while things could be improved, at least they could continue to run as they were in the meantime. We all know mistakes happen and that it’s shit when they do, but at least we could make it right the best way we could.
GGP had already dumped significant money into developing a Salesforce tool for all your CRM needs. It was getting to a point it could have been functional and ready to launch to improve everything I stated above. There was an entire experienced IT/systems development team that existed to get this prepared over the last two years. Public emails were already going to patients from the application to update details, this isn’t unknown information.
Instead of that being finalised, Helen fired the entire systems team without warning, leaving everything to do with Salesforce fucked over because no one who remained knew anything about maintaining it. She also fired the entire media and marketing team mid-last year.
She had teams that could do everything you can possibly think of that is going to shit right now.
Late last year, we all did employee surveys about our working experiences and motivation to stay with the company. The results were glowing, we were content. There would always be things we wanted to change, but that exists with any company. It’s not an attack to make suggestions, if we stay complacent in anything, it makes us ignorant to what can improve and that’s it. And as community members with lived experiences, of course we had things we’d like to change.
We were told another employee survey would be sent out in the new year, and then, all the below happened before it came out.
In late January we were told we needed to start using the Healthy Hormones website in everything we did. From the prescriptions team using it to ensure bloods were up to date, to pathology using it answer any and all questions from the page that existed, to queries using it to direct people there. And to be clear, we already did these things, it's not like the tools didn't already exist. This slowed down everyone’s work significantly, which in hindsight, feels entirely intentional at this point because then she can go and proclaim that: “Oh shucks, these changes were awfully necessary, can’t you see!”
It slowed us down because none of us were trained on any of it (new tools, website in general) and even though we all knew the answer to the situation or things being asked, they didn’t exist on the Healthy Hormones pages. So, then we would need to raise that it didn’t exist, or that a tool wasn’t accurate, or whatever the fuck else, and then wait to get a response about how to respond. A response we already knew, had accurate protocols for, and could even provide an answer ourselves if she wanted it so badly on the Healthy Hormones page. But nah, we had to wait for her to pump out a ChatGPT produced answer to advise because she thought we were idiots.
And what did ChatGPT produce? Things like claiming Spironolactone isn’t a diuretic or that GGP doesn’t prescribe diuretics, or that etc etc etc. We had clinical providers feeding us ChatGPT content to respond with instead of individually responding to patients about their results and concerns, taking zero responsibility for their tailored needs.
Oh, right, but Helen will point and say that all those posts were created by a licensed professional, so obviously it makes it a-okay then. Sure, let’s ignore that just because she signs off on something doesn’t make it any better when it has clearly not been reviewed properly. Not to mention the largely confusing non-sensical descriptions on posts that are inaccessible, ableist, and don't answer questions as they pertain to the service.
We know that ChatGPT is ethically harmful. We know that AI in general is going to cause ramifications in healthcare unregulated. We aired out concerns on this. We were ignored.
It was very clear that us needing to send everything and anything through to be put on some new website we weren’t even made aware of, was with the intention of likely getting rid of us. When raised, our HR team told us: “No, no, we’ll make sure everyone is redeployed, or that the low performers will be the only ones offboarded! Everything is totally fine.”
(Note: Yes, yes, never trust HR, many of us were well aware of this and did not put much stock in anything they said - which as of writing this, two of the three were fired too, so, fuck us all I guess.)
Now, there is something to be said about positives related to automation. There are ways to code forms to produce the data we need to properly advise on. There was a way for Helen to go about this entirely, that she was informed on by people with these expertise, that she ignored. There were way more logical ways of going about literally everything she did. However, the ethical aspects that pertain to patient centered care impose a level of responsibility that Healthy Hormones, GGP, and Helen proclaim to no longer take.
Any manner of gender affirming care should have the final treatment recommendation oversight of a qualified professional or multi-disciplinary team of qualified professionals that:

1. Take your full medical history into consideration, especially any new medication or changes,
2. Review your care goals and any gaps that you feel are creating barriers to achieving the results you desire,
3. Review abnormalities in test results that could be attributed by your HRT to advise,
4. Ensure you are providing informed consent to any changes that impact your ongoing care (ie. an opt-out from changes in services like automation, or sudden changes that impact how you receive your prescriptions that could create health concerns from unexpected withdrawal of hormones),
5. Provide surveys about ongoing patient experiences and addresses areas of improvement,
6. Produce records and data requests promptly to be GDPR compliant, and
7. Address formal issues you have related to concerns with the facility management or ongoing care services in a timely fashion.

The idea that all of the above would instead by handled and answered by the Healthy Hormones (cough GenderGPT cough) page deeply worried all of us.
Ofc, one day the ideal world would be largely OTC HRT (remember HRT is easier to manage than diabetes and many, many other conditions), but most people aren’t ready to have that conversation.
So, with all that in mind, back to the continued fuckery of earlier this year.
Member Enrolment which was the team that used to process new intake forms and liaise internally with clinical staff to ensure any concerns were medically assessed. Their entire team was destroyed in February, without warning.
Yes, they did struggle with the ongoing forms received. However, other teams were able to shift over advisors to be able to accommodate and if there hadn’t been so much uncertainty in everything Helen was doing from the top, that could’ve been easily rectified with a change management process. Many things were easily rectified by simply utilising the people she already had and caring that they had opinions that mattered. Other teams were also in a positive position metrics-wise to be able to send advisors over to assist with the uptick.
But instead of fixing a super easy problem, she decided to make it infinitely worse and told the Member Enrolment team, without warning, in the middle of a random work day in February that they were no longer enrolment advisors and were being “redeployed” to other teams, with no training. A team of +10 people suddenly without homes and no proper HR protocols followed to ensure this didn’t completely destroy people’s morale.
We were lied to, repeatedly.
One second, HR is telling us (and if I’m being honest, I don’t blame any of them - Helen is a fucking rollercoaster and was likely changing things every two seconds and they were just the scapegoats) there is a rollout plan for the next bunch of quarters into next year and that the only time anyone would potentially lose their jobs is at the end of every quarter and it would be based on performance.
In this same messaging, we’re finally finding out (even if it was literally already launched and being used) GGP is being separated into three entities (this was posted on Healthy Hormones too). GGP would be about a community hub space, Healthy Hormones would be about facilitating the automation of care and where people were getting information, the Health & Wellbeing Directory would be a place for a host of new session types and the opportunity for us to move over and that the great majority of us would continue to have jobs.
We were a little over 100 people at the start of 2024. Over 50% of that number was the entirety of the Healthcare Admin teams - the people who handled new enrolment, general enquiries, prescriptions, pathology, learning and development, and medicines management with partners. Everyone else was the Clinical + Wellbeing Team - so our psychologist, counsellors, doctors, wellbeing advisors (people who do the Follow Up Sessions, previous Ask Us Anything) and nurses.
The next second, we’re being told that a number of people would be imminently offboarded, a number somewhere in the double digits. We were told it could be anyone from the most recently onboarded staff, part timers, or based on poor performance. Immediately, all of our teams grew frantic about the uncertainty and (un)shockingly morale continued to plummet.
(I should also say that the internal structure of GGP was Helen > Head of Healthcare / HR > Team Managers > Team Leads, and no one from TM/TL level was being told anything or was invited way too late to meetings weeks after decisions had been apparently made that impacted the teams)
Next we’re filling out the next employee survey and trying to air our concerns about AI from a community perspective and that we feel entirely uncertain about our prospects because the messaging has been vague and it seems to be changing very quickly. We just wanted clarity, communication, and empathy so we could return to a state of functional across the teams instead of all of our mental wellbeing's tanking. We never found out the results of the survey, despite being told we would, likely because it did not make Helen look great compared to the previous one.
When the firings suddenly weren’t happening for when we thought they were, the shit show burst.
Without warning, multiple changes happened in quick succession. We came into work on a Monday and had no access to responding or sending messages in the communication tool. We had no access to new patient files or even what was going on with issued prescriptions from the new page (a new page we weren’t even told was launching). We could barely advise on the old messages that asked about all these new changes because of this. We asked, over and over, to be able to do our job and handle complaints, for this access. Helen refused and refused to properly tell us what the fuck was going on.
From January to mid March, we were dragged through a clusterfuck of uncertainty, enormous stress, and being gaslit every day. Every day we were being pummeled with unclear information, changing guidance, thinking we would be fired, etc. Then, silence.
On March 15th, 2024 - 47 of the remaining 87 staff were fired. The entire healthcare admin team that I expanded on earlier was completely fired. We had a brief chance to review the post that went on our internal HQ page, telling us it wasn’t our fault and they wished us the best for anyone who was no longer required. Then, we’re all being removed without getting to say goodbye except for HR calls if we wanted them with two people most of us barely knew. Many of us had been there for years. It didn’t matter.
Then, Helen is on a call that same morning with the clinical and wellbeing team telling them that the whole reason this is happening is because of internal errors that the entire team she just fired were doing. She didn’t even tell them how many people were fired. And (contrary to the HQ post) stated that this needed to happen because of it and that automation would prevent errors. That her random group of data analysts (roles she never positioned to team members she already had) that were the HR Talent Lead’s family members in the Phillipines were replacements for us when she hadn’t even trained them properly to do prescription lines. That this was all for the greater good.
Helen is sitting there telling everyone to get on board and be positive in everything they do and say, or go. It's not about honesty or transparency, it's about who is desperate enough to stay for a paycheque because they have no alternatives. The majority of us have not been able to find work.
Nevermind that all of the protocols that existed internally were approved and maintained by her. That she is the one responsible and signed off on any issues that existed for all the tools we had internally that told us what prescriptions to issue, what to look for on blood test results, how to advise, etc. Nevermind that all we did was follow her instruction. No one was going lone wolf. Mistakes were outliers, not the norm. They happen with any company. There was a means to improve what her concerns may be, without decimating the company and ongoing care. Instead, she made us all look like the problem because a mirror is too hard to find.
I don’t know what I want from this post. I adored the job I did as much as I hated it from a capitalistic part of wishing public healthcare was good enough we didn’t need this at all. I gave my all to my job. It made me feel fulfilled. I have been heartbroken for months about all of this. I have had my mental wellbeing deteriorate to a point of resurgence of conditions I haven’t had in decades.
I wasn’t ignorant to who Helen was, I knew that there was a certain greed that Helen exudes in everything she does. She has multiple family members and their friends employed with the company that weren't amongst the ones fired, it’s not hard to deduce that money is the main factor for why GGP is the way it is now. I just thought that at some level, she did care about us based on everything she puts out publicly.
I just wish the community understood they deserve better instead of letting Helen get away with this. I also wish if we were going to media about this, it wasn’t the Times or whoever else that has a very clear agenda on how to paint our community’s needs.
Stop giving all the power to cis people who don’t care about you. Helen cares about money. She is a performative ally at best but a viper behind closed doors. She is a licensed doctor, with an investor on her shoulder telling her he’ll make her millions so she can continue to be the scummy landlord, multi-villa-having cretin that she is.
She doesn’t care about the opinions of her staff because she considers herself superior. She will not accept opinions that oppose hers and will bully, undermine, or ostracise you for speaking up. She treated all of the healthcare advisors like we didn’t know fuck all and only ever considered the doctor who agreed with her as anyone worth having an opinion. Her ego has gotten to such a point she truly thinks she’s our community’s saviour. Stop allowing her to have this complex.
She knows damn well how to ensure patient safety is maintained and how to implement healthcare projects properly, she just doesn’t care. She wants guaranteed money, fast, regardless of the consequential outcome.
She was fully informed about every single issue that is happening now. She was told how this should have been refined before large scale launching. She already had staff that were all experts about what she is doing now that could’ve helped make this successful. She was told by many people, many people who even left before this year, that this was not the way to go. She treats our healthcare like she owns a candy shop, from the way shit’s phrased on the website, to the infantilising way she looks at complaints or our community in general.
She deserves to be held accountable without destroying private care at the same time.
Continuing to let her hold all the cards, is deteriorating the validity of private healthcare in the UK/EU. Policy makers will continue to hold her as an example set that private healthcare is dangerous, rather than turning a light on the fact that public healthcare is the thing that is killing our community.
She doesn’t deserve your respect, she doesn’t deserve your money, help the other companies thrive if you have the money to spend on them, but stop enabling Helen at every turn.

Hi,
I am writing a reply message to an older friend who missed me during a visit. Anyway, I was hoping that my Japanese was fine in this case.
‎気にしないでくださいね。 残念ながら、もう14日にアメリカに帰りましたが、今年の12月の下旬～お正月(の時に?)ぐらいにまた東京に行って、その間、日本語のテストを受ける予定です。合格したら、日本の就職に役に立つと思います。その時、あなたがお忙しくなかったら、私もお会いしたいです。
This is what I want to say:
No worries/no problem. Unfortunately, I have already gone back to America, but I plan to go back to Japan, and take the Japanese test during that time (while I am in Japan) in late December of this year or around New Year's. If I pass, I think it will help me find a job in Japan. At that time, if you aren't busy, I would also like to get together.

From the beginning...
Cast

Part 2, Chapter 8

Conferring briefly, Arthur strides across the bridge [1]. Before he gets halfway across, a voice rings out. “HALT. Come no further. We want nothing from you, and have nothing for you. Depart peaceably.” The voice is feminine, with a thick rural Damaran accent, not so dissimilar to Arthur’s.
Arthur comes to a stop. “We come in peace. We just want to know what is going on. We’re on a mission from the Council of Thanes in Ironspur. This is their forge.”
“No dwarves here. It’s ours now. You need know nothing more. Away!”
Arthur withdraws to the group, where suddenly Zander notices that Dillium has disappeared. One thing at a time. “Perhaps if we paid a toll.” Zander suggests.
“We’ll pay a toll to cross the bridge and converse.” Arthur booms.
“How much?”
“How much do you want?”
“Three figures. Leave it on the bridge.”
“We’ll give you a hundred pieces of silver.”
There is no reply. Through the haze of the heat and ash, the outlines of the people on the other side of the chasm appear to be lined up.
“Are you with the dragon?” Novos calls out.
“Of course not! He’s taken our people. Are you?”
“No. He stole our elf!” Zander calls out.
“We just want to look around,” Novos adds. He takes a few steps toward the bridge, but a dagger sails out of the darkness and misses Novos’ foot by … well, several feet.
“Go away!”
The argument goes back and forth. Daggers are thrown until the unknown assailant runs out or gets tired, then crossbow bolts are launched. Novos takes cover behind Zander, who good-naturedly holds his shield out in protection. After several shots, Novos makes out the shape of a shooter above and to his left. Aiming carefully, he fires back with his bow.
“Look, we’re coming across. I’ll give ten gold pieces to anyone who lays down arms and talks.” Novos announces.
“Don’t you dare!” the voice cuts through, though it looks like the shapes of people on the other side of the chasm are less decided. Several low conversations break out, and though nobody can make out the words, the tones range from willing to harsh.
Zander decides to take a position on the bridge. This of course means Novos is a clear target again, though it’s hard to make out anything through the haze and the crossbow bolts miss more frequently than they hit.
***
A pebble rolls across the floor and nudges Dillium’s foot. Looking around, she sees the redheaded young human put his finger to his lips in a universal "don't scream" gesture, then he beckons her over away from the party. Novos has disappeared again, and everyone else is intent on trying to see through the heat waves and ash rising from the river of red gelatinous goop. Zander or Felicity are busy arguing with the voice, so slipping away from the group, Dillium ducks around the corner with the man.
Up close, she sees he has a misshapen face and is slightly stooped. Looking at his eyes, she decides he sees poorly--if at all--from his left eye. His complexion is ruddy in a way that nearly obscures the freckles all over his face and neck, and his shocking red hair seems nearly too bright to be natural. Now that she gets a good look at him, Dillium thinks he might be near his thirtieth year. For all of being a bit hunch-backed, he doesn't seem to have any problem moving around. His low voice speaks to habitual whispering.
"You are of Ilmater? My gran said that a cleric in a horse-hair shirt saved his life after the battle at Goliad Ford [2]. He would give coppers to the monks that came through, and often gave them food. Can I trust you?"
The simple sincerity in his voice, and his look of concern and dread touch Dillium, and she nods. He beckons her further away from the group, but he doesn't seem to have any weapons on him so she follows. Slipping silently back through the rubble of the half-collapsed hall, the pair returns to the cell where the dead are still chained to the wall. He pays them no mind. He does leave the door open a sliver, though. Seating himself on the floor next to a burned-out fire, he speaks.
"My name is Febis. Look, I'm sorry for before. He doesn't like visitors, and I can't just go and tell the Hand that they can't use this place for their hide-out anymore. We only just got here when he showed up. He's not bad, once you get to know him. He sometimes brings me food if he killed too many sheep, and he doesn't come in this part of the cavern because he can't turn around right. Only you can't insult him or he gets very mad, and he sometimes can't control his temper. It really just would be better if you and your friends go."
Too many "he's" and "they's" for her to sort out. It's like Febis assumes she already knows who they all are. “Slow down, and start over,” Dillium says gently. “Who is ‘he’?”
Febis says that ‘he’ is a monstrous red dragon that calls himself The Mighty Flamestrike. He arrived in a blast of wind and a clatter of claws on the stone floor, and he made himself at home in the main hall. He likes the heat from the lava, and sometimes lays down on top of it, sinking slowly into it. During one of the recent earthshakes part of the roof caved in, and Flamestrike took up residence high up in some hollowed-out caves near the ceiling. Febis has never been up there, but Flamestrike sometimes leaves in the evening to go hunting, and returns before dawn.
Febis is a member of the Dread Order of the Ebon Hand, the most dangerous gang of bandits this side of the Assassin's Citadel. What do you mean you've never heard of them? They have been the most feared bandit gang in the country's history. Although, he hastens to add, he's only been with the gang since he left home in Helmsdale this spring. He hated being a farmer and he can't ride a horse [3] (and some of the soldiers made fun of him), so there really isn't anything else for him to do.
The Hand found the entrance to this cavern complex two or three months ago, and they moved in. It makes a great base to bandit from. Cletus says that it was carved out by dwarves. Fatima, the captain of the Hand, has been working on getting the place cleaned up, and is looking to be able to give everyone their own areas in which to live. That was easier before Flamestrike came along. Since his arrival, the Hand have been hiding in terror from the dragon, who sometimes plays with them "like a cat with a mouse", blowing fire down the corridor and making the whole complex shake. Fatima has been trying to get them to attack Flamestrike, but the last time they tried, Willie and Franso were badly burned and pelted with rocks dropping from the ceiling. Father Michael took days to heal them all the way back to health.
Febis himself was the second of the Hand caught by the dragon, but instead of eating him, the dragon talked to him, and made friends with Febis. Now Febis comes and goes as he pleases, but he knows that the dragon's temper is such that he could end up as a snack if he crosses The Mighty Flamestrike.
***
Novos does the thing where he disappears. Zipping across the chasm, he notes that there are nearly a dozen “thugs”, along with some armored war mastiffs. Bedrolls and a cot line one wall, and a makeshift cook stove is in the back corner. An archway leads off into the darkness. The thugs are not particularly ready for battle—they are indifferently armored and have a bevy of non-uniform weapons, but none of them have them raised as if they were ready to use them. There are several debates ongoing, and two of the thugs are wrestling.
Returning to the group, Novos quickly gives a report. Arthur asks Zander to move, and he leads the way across the bridge.
“CEASE!” A ripple flows through the Weave as a spell is cast, and the two wrestlers climb to their feed sheepishly. Before they know it, the entire party is on their side of the chasm, face to face.
“Go AWAY! WE DON’T WANT YOU HERE. You are invading our home!” A crossbow bolt accompanies the demand, but it misses everyone. Without the heat shimmer, Novos can finally make out his assailant through what appears to be an opening above and to the right of the large cave. She is peering out behind a large metal structure with carvings etched on it.
The thugs are still bickering amongst themselves to some extent, but only a few of them tentatively raise their weapons.
Another ripple in the Weave, and the thugs generally calm down, losing some of the edge in their bickering. Unfortunately, nothing calms the shooter, who manages to put a bolt into Novos. Novos shoots back, hitting the woman. In response, the several of the bandits reach out to stop Novos from attacking their captain.
***
“My friends and I are here at the request of the dwarves in Ironspur. They are worried that someone here was attempting to restart the forge, which is… haunted or something? They didn’t get into details. Have you seen it?”
"Forge? I don't know about that, but there is a big iron thingy up near where Fatima beds down. It kinda’ looks like something Jeran the Smith from my village might use. We don't do anything with it, but it's useful to put stuff on when we're eating. I mean, there's no chairs or nothin, but we can stand up and eat. Sometimes we just eat near the campfire, though."
"So, you aren't working the forge, or trying to craft things?" Dillium asks patiently.
"Gerk sometimes uses it to bang the dents of armor pieces, or to try to sharpen swords and stuff, but he doesn't have a hammer, so normally he just uses an iron bar to smack the back of armor piece. Sometimes it works."
Dillium explains that some of the people in Damara are worried about another war with Vaasa (“like the one with the Lich King”), and they are looking for allies who are willing to lend aid. Perhaps the Hand would like to assist?
Febis tells her in his own simple way that most of the men don’t want to be in a war. They’ve seen the soldiers in Helmsdale with their shiny armor and fancy horses, and they don’t have any of that stuff. “Being in a battle sounds dangerous. Besides, that sounds like we’d have to stop banditing, and that’s kinda’ fun sometimes. Maybe some of the guys might want to go legit, but Fatima just wants to keep us safe.”
“You know, the Hand could become an adventuring or mercenary group too. That way you all could be making money by completing different contracts. While it may not be as fun as being a bandit, it’s more sustainable for you all,” Dillium reasons.
"Don't you have to get a paper from the queen to be a mercenary group? And aren't those hard? I heard there was a group that had to fight like a whole lot of orcs once [4]. That's almost like being in a battle."
“Hmm. I guess I could see that, though there may come a time when you have to decide which side you’re on, just like your gran did.” After a pause to collect her thoughts, Dillium continues. She wonders aloud why the dragon likes Febis more than the others, and if there is a way to make everyone happy—to perhaps speak to Flamestike, to free the Hand from his torment, and for them to look over the forge for the dwarves.
"I don't know why he likes me more than the others. Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe it's on account of my hair being the same color as he is. Maybe it's because I don't call him names and stuff. Sometimes he comes out and talks to me about his brothers and how he's going to get his revenge on them all some day. Delfus used to talk to me that way when we lived in Helmsdale. His pa used to beat him when he didn't milk the cow in the morning, or dropped the egg basket. Delfus and I are good friends. He's the one who convinced me to join the Hand."
“What happened with his brothers that makes him want revenge on them? Who are his brothers?” Despite her need to keep on track, Dillium’s curiosity overcomes her.
"Oh, he doesn't like to talk about them. I guess brother stuff? I only have sisters, and they are annoying. Perhaps they called him names, or didn't want to use his whole name. Maybe they fart in the nest. Do dragons have nests? I heard that they lay eggs..."
***
Wordlessly, the party springs into action. There is a ripple in the Weave, and half of the bandits fall to the floor in a deep slumber, their war dogs with them. Arthur strides through the sleeping bodies to one who didn’t go down, and he slashes him from shoulder to hip. Momentarily surprised, the man falls to the floor, lifeless. His dog growls. Zander steps forward to face off against two other bandits. Two quick slashes and they fall to the floor. Novos disappears, then makes his way up to the opening where the crossbow shooter is taking aim at Felicity. She misses. The remaining bandit gestures, the Weave ripples from him, and a bolt of light streaks across the room to smash into Arthur’s back. The dog snaps at Arthur but misses. Novos reappears and stabs the crossbow-wielding woman in the back. Enraged, she pulls out a saber and slashes in vain at Novos. Before Novos can stab her again, Felicity pulls out a wand and fires an arc of electricity at the woman, killing her. The one-sided battle is over.
Quickly, Arthur and Zander bind up the four slumbering bandits and their war dogs. Felicity reaches into her purse and slides some gold into each of their coin pouches.
***
Novos peers around. He’s seen forges before, and this looks something like one, except instead of a standard coal-fired furnace, there is a trickle of red-hot lava, dribbling down a hole in the wall and forming a small rivulet through a makeshift furnace before falling off down the side of the cavern wall and into the lava river below. The forge area is cleaned out. There are pegs on the walls, presumably for tools, but they are bare, as are a pair of stout metal tables. Shrugging, Novos heads down a set of stairs and through a dark hallway. Some distance down, he spies a darker alcove, and in that alcove, a doorway. Pushing open the door, he sees bags, boxes, and barrels. One bag has conveniently fallen over, spilling its contents of coins onto the floor. “Hey! I found something!” He shouts.
***
"He doesn't much like visitors. I don't think he wants to talk to anyone. It's too bad they can't get along. Maybe The Mighty Flamestrike could go out with the Hand and help them find wagons to bandit, and then perhaps he could eat the horses after we bring the wagons back and get all the stuff? I don't think he wants to do that, though. It would be nice if all my friends could get along. Fatima would love to have a real dragon helping. I bet we could bandit like two wagons at a time!"
Dillium responds. "If we could help the Hand find a new place to live, how would they get out without ... Flamestrike—"
Febis interrupts. "The Mighty Flamestrike. He likes you to use his whole name."
"Fine, the mighty Flamestrike--"
"No, no. You're not doing it right. You have to use the whole thing. The Mighty Flamestrike. Here, you try it. The Mighty Flamestrike."
"The Mighty Flamestrike."
"Good! I knew you was smart!" Dillium sighs heavily.
"So, if my other friends and I could find a new place for the Hand to live, and perhaps a job so they could go legit, how would they get out of here without The Mighty Flamestrike eating them?"
"I suppose they could wait until he goes out to hunt, then leave real quick like in the middle of the night. He wouldn't be here to eat them, and if they went far away before dawn he wouldn't get them."
"You keep saying 'they'. Wouldn't you want to go with the Hand?"
"Yeah! I mean, I would be sad that The Mighty Flamestrike wouldn't have any friends left. Maybe he would let me come back and visit him?"
“I don’t really understand why he keeps the Hand here if he doesn’t like them.. but I am sure that he would be happy to have a friend like you visit him if the Hand does leave. It does seem like it would be lonely here in the mountains by himself…” Dillium trails off, waiting on a response.
“I think he lets the Hand stay here for something to do, but he really doesn't keep them here. They are just ascared of him on account of the breathing fire and all.
“I think I would like to come and visit him sometimes. Maybe I could bring him a sheep. He likes sheep."
***
Just as they are finishing tying up the bandits, they begin to wake. “Wha… what happened?” One of them sees Zander puling the dead and bleeding bodies off to the side. “Murderers! You murdered them!” “They killed Willie!” “You Bastards!” “Look, they murdered the Captain!”
“Arthur addresses them. “Hush. You are alive. That is enough. You attacked us, and we responded.”
“You murdered them in cold blood!” one of the braver bandits spits.
“If your captain is now dead, who’s the new captain of your company?” Zander asks.
“uh…..”
“Cletus!” “What? I don’t want—” “Cletus is!” “But I don’t—”
“Fine. Do you give your parole? If so we shall untie you.” Arther towers above the one that responded as Cletus.
“I don’t even have a payroll yet. How do I…” Felicity unties the group. Climbing to their feet, they leave the ropes on the ground. Blood coats the floor from the dead, and Zander’s dragging activity has spread around even more blood.
“Hey! I found something!” shouts Novos. His voice sounds like it comes from the archway to the left. Arthur tells Felicity and Zander to stay with the bandits while he goes to see what is the matter.
***
Dillium pauses for a second.
“Febus… are you by any chance the Mighty Flamestrike?”
"Me? No! He's my friend. He's big and beautiful and scary and eats people. I'm just... me. Besides, he's all big and scaly. I'm not scaly!" He pauses a moment.
"Sometimes I dream about flying, though."
“Ah, sorry. It’s just that the Mighty Flamestrike isn’t the only dragon we’ve encountered in our journey. I know you’ve said plenty of times before that the Mighty Flamestrike doesn’t like visitors and after what happened I understand. I’d like to apologize to him on behalf of my friends.” Dillium takes a deep breath. “They attacked him… do you think he’ll let me try to heal him? Being able to create some form of middle ground between us all would be beneficial, don’t you think? I may be able to convince my party to leave…”
"It's ~T~he Mighty Flamestrike. You have to say his name right if you ever want to talk to him." Febis mutters under his breath, "Man, I thought elfs were supposed to be smart."
"Anyway, they attacked The Mighty Flamestrike? And they're still alive? How many of them got burned up? How can you heal a big giant dragon like that? I thought they had to have an arrow in them or something for you to heal him? If he's hurt he's probably going to be very cross indeed. I don’t know if he will want to talk at all, but I guess we could try..."
“Well, there’s no harm in trying right? Do you think you can try to help me meet The Mighty Flamestrike?”
"There IS harm in trying. If he's mad, he'll just fire us, and fire us good. Or drop us in the hot rocks. He can do that. I could see if he wants to come down, but I don't know if he will."
“If you could please, that would mean a lot to me… I can meet him on my own unless you’d like to join me, but if you’re worried about getting flamed then I don’t blame you. I’d like a chance to right the wrongs that have happened today. Perhaps we should meet him in a room more accessible for him…”
***
Arthur appears in the doorway as Novos looks around the dimly lit room. “Loot! I’m sure this will pay some bills.”
“We’ll need to figure out how to get all this out of here—”
“Ahem.” A voice from behind Arthur. “I’ll have you know that this is the lawfully acquired possessions of the Hand, and are not for you to go carting it all off. I know exactly how much is in here, and I won’t see you take a copper, do you hear! We know our rights!”
Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. This has the makings of an even longer day.
A couple of the remaining members of the bandits pile into the room. “Hey! Keep your hands off our stuff. It’s ours!”
Arthur turns on his heel and heads back toward the main room, but … something isn’t right. The wall along the corridor is caved in, but there’s something… odd. Climbing up on top of the pile, he notices heat and light coming through a crack. He pulls some rubble away and can clearly see another room beyond.
“Hey, that stuff in there is ours, too!” Cletus says.
***
"Oh, he won't go any further than the main hall. He doesn't want to get stuck, and he can't turn around very well in the smaller rooms." Febis pauses for a moment. "How will you keep from getting fired? He might be very angry."
Dillium pats his arm. “I’ll figure something out.”
"I could go out and call him and see if he will come down, I guess."
“To be completely honest Febus the only thing I have to protect myself from the flames is hope and faith. Is the main hall where the rest of my friends are? I have instinctual knowledge that if they are there then this whole plan won’t work… I really do appreciate you doing this for me. It’s very kind of you.”
"Is instinctual knowledge some fancy elf thing, or a fancy priest thing?”
“Hmm I would say the instinctual knowledge has come from spending nearly every waking moment of my journey so far with roughly the same people… their habits are frighteningly predictable and in some cases, suicidal.”
Febus nods. “Do you need to rest, or uhm... eat a last meal or something?"
Dillium sighs. “While rest and a meal would be great, I fear that time is not our friend.”
***
Pulling enough of the rubble away to fit his bulk through, Arthur scrapes his armor on the rock as he slides down into the next room. This one is very hot, and is dimly lit by a seeping pool of lava in the corner. After a moment, Novos slides down next to him. “Whatcha find?” he asks unnecessarily.
A head pokes up from the lava. Then another. Sensing fresh food, a group of bulky snake-like creatures slither out of the lava pool and make their way over to Arthur and Novos. Soundlessly they attack. Arthur slashes, but is badly burned by the heat given off by the creatures. Novos too tries to slash with his dagger, but the heat is too much. He falls back behind Arthur. Arthur calls out for aid, and with a mighty hack and a movement of the Weave, a tremendous roar of thunder smashes through the snakes, temporarily deafening everyone, including the two bandits who have followed.
“All our stuff.” Cletus intones when he can hear again.
***
“What was that?” Felicity asks in alarm.
“Dunno. Let’s find out,” Zander replies. The two race toward the pile of rubble in the corridor.
***
Febis stands. "If you're sure I can't talk you out of it..." He opens the door and steps through it.
Suddenly a huge thunder blast echoes through the cavern. It is definitely not a cave-in, or the clash of rock on ... anything, but rather the sound of a huge lightning strike hitting nearby. The sound is briefly deafening. It sounds like it came from the cavern where the Hand was last seen, rather than the direction of the main hall. There's the sound of distant yelling from the same direction.
Febis is startled. He looks off in the direction of the party (and his friends). "Oh, that's not good." Moments later, there is a roar from the direction of the main hall. "Very not good."
“Febis I believe you and I share the very same sentiment there- Uhhh change of plans. Let’s make sure our friends here don’t kill each other. Stay close to me, sound good?”
***
The eight humans look around. Apart from the lava pool and the very hot corpses of the snake creatures (everyone moves away from them), the room contains what Arthur, Novos and Zander identify as grave goods. They are similar to the urns, carvings, and paintings in the tomb they invaded in Ironspur. In fact, there is a fancy dwarven sarcophagus and an ornate hammer atop. Across is the carved family tree that stretches for nearly a thousand years, ending nearly three centuries before (in the dwarven calendar). Taking it all in, Arthur’s eye catches on some oddity. A misalignment of patterns on one wall. “Secret door,” he says. Novos checks quickly for traps, then pushes open the door.
Inside, two carved stone dwarves shamble to life. Raising their bronze axes, they silently stalk toward Novos and Arthur as Zander and Felicity look on in horror.
***
Grabbing Febis by the hand, Dillium quickly but cautiously makes her way back down the corridor. She passes through the outer chamber with the well that leads down to lava, and sees the rickety wooden bridge over the chasm that is still producing heat haze and ash. Nobody is visible on the other side. Quickly she slips across the bridge and into chaos.
Blood covers the floor. The dead bodies of several of the Hand, along with their war mastiffs, are pushed over to one side. Several ropes cut into ten or twelve foot lengths lie on the floor. Looking around, she sees a large room. A campfire and makeshift cooking stove are in the far corner. Bedrolls and a cot line one wall. There's what appears to be some sort of shrine along the back wall. An archway on the opposite wall leads off into darkness.
"DELFUS! What happened?" Febis runs over to the corpse of his childhood friend, slashed from shoulder to hip by a single broad stroke. The last of his blood pools on the floor, but the blood strewn across the floor makes it very much appear that he and the others were dragged from another part of the room. "And Gerk! And Father Michael!" Tears pour down Febis' face as he comes to grips with the loss of his only (human) friends, apparently savagely butchered. Sitting down on the cold floor oblivious to the standing blood, Febis cradles the lifeless head of his friend.
Meanwhile, the muffled sounds of battle are heard through the open archway.
"I thought you were going to be my friend," Febis cries to Dillium bitterly.
Dillium quickly checks the bodies. All have been dead for ten or fifteen minutes, beyond a simple revival. Dillium leaves Febis to his grief and dashes toward the open archway. On the other side is a moderately-sized room with rubble strewn around. It appears that one wall has collapsed. There is a hole at the top where some of the rubble has been pushed away, leaving a man-sized space to squeeze under the lintel of a hidden doorway. There is a dim red light (so, more lava), and voices. Dillium hears the sound of metal on stone and the grunts of men in battle. Scampering lightly up the pile of loose stones and rubble, she scootches through the hole at the top, sliding down the other side. There she finds several unknown people who are watching Arthur, Zander, and Novos in battle. As she arrives, the last of some sort of animated stone statues crumble to pebbles. Arthur's armor is scorched down one side, and he limps slightly. Novos is barely on his feet, and as Dillium arrives, he sinks to his knees, panting. Zander sheathes his sword, and Felicity puts away a wand. Three grubby men and what might charitably be called a woman (under many layers of dirt and grime) stand around, unarmed.
"Now you remember, all this is the lawful property of our company. You don't go gettin light fingers now," says one of the Hand in the most "southern drawl" Damaran accent ever.

End of Chapter 8

[1] Based very loosely on Fire Forge Caves by Dungeon Baker in FiveE magazine https://www.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/367470/fivee-magazine-august-2021
[2] https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Ford_of_Goliad
[3] The duke has a company of cavalry barracked just outside Helmsdale.
[4] Probably too far away for it to have been the party, back when they were called Dragon Force in Chapter 32. On the other hand, maybe it was?

TL:DR - Seraphism is not a wild curve ball out of left field, but rather a case of an enemy's technique being adapted to our own use, has a fair chunk of lore that explains perfectly what it is, why it is, and what it does, and has since Shadowbringers. The wings could still be better though.
With the release of the new job actions trailer, I've noticed a lot of folks posting confusion and disappointment about Seraphism, the new Scholar skill which changes the caster's appearance when used and increases their healing abilities. While some of the posts are entirely fair, (looking at you, wing haters. Those things better at least be animated or something and not just rigid.) there's no shortage of folks who seem to think that Seraphism has come out of left field without any sort of context. Here's the thing though. I, and several others, concluded that Seraphism had a high probability of being plausible in the setting almost two years ago.
That's right, nearly two years ago, myself and some others predicted the skill Seraphism was not only possible, but plausible in Final Fantasy XIV, down to the appearance change and effects it'd have, and here's how and why;
A common theme i've noticed with the posts about Seraphism so far, aside from the hate around the wings, (again, I get it. not here to try and persuade anyone those things are good looking, they're not, they could use work.) is that a lot of folks seem to think that Seraphism is coming out of nowhere, and absolutely noone has posted anything i've seen pointing out that we've seen this exact technique before, up close and personal in combat. That's right, this isn't the first time we're seeing the technique. It's the first time someone's using it with a Seraph that we've seen though, so i'm not super surprised.
Remember Ranjit and his snake dragon Gukumatz in Shadowbringers? Remember when he merged with Gukumatz to augment his combat abilities dramatically? That's right. This is the exact same technique.
See, the thing about Gukumatz is that Gukumatz, as revealed by the lore around A-Rank hunt mark Huracan in Kholusia, is a familiar, an arcane construct. A flappy snake Carbuncle, if you will. It's possible that this means that Ranjit's enshrouded form is essentially a kind of trance, similar to Dreadwyrm and Phoenix trance, emulating and augmenting their abilities based on an arcane entity they encountered. We speculated at the time that, because Primals are essentially just another flavor of construct like carbuncles, in theory, and as demonstrated by Ranjit, it should be possible to create an artificial trance based on your own summon if the necessary conditions were met. but what were the conditions, you're likely wondering if you've suffered through this wall of text to this point?
Well, we know from the job quests related to Dreadwyrm trance that the trance state is achieved by meditating on and emulating the aether of the primal you're focusing on. This likely means that the condition needing met is that the aether of the target likely needs to be sufficiently different from your own, which means an average carbuncle would probably not work. What WOULD work, then?
Enter fairies and Seraph. These constructs are made in Nym, hundreds of years before the WoL was ever born! If anything were going to work for a trance state out of all our summons, it'd be these guys. With their very essence, their core, being a job stone, their aether's more likely than anything to be unique enough compared to our own that a trance is plausible. At least, without extreme modifications to the summons, but that's a lot more speculative than the rest of this, so we'll just ignore carbuncles entirely for now.
Of the two, if you were going to emulate one, you'd want to emulate the stronger, meaning Seraph is the natural choice to attempt this "seraph trance" state as we described it, and based on Ranjit, we speculated that, possibly due to the base aether being the caster's own, such a state would likely lead to an appearance change similar to what Ranjit undergoes using his own summon for such a state, meaning robes, wings, and like Ranjit enhanced his combat abilities, and the WoL augments theirs with Dreadwyrm and Phoenix trances, the Seraph trance would likely amplify the healing abilities of the caster in the process.
So aside from the name, we predicted essentially all the effects Seraphism would have, from the appearance change to the amplified healing, almost two years before they announced it, just based off the lore we have relating to trance states and constructs like Carbuncle and Gukumatz.
As a fun bonus, the bit about "similar aether leading to an appearance change" can also be extended to potentially explain why reapers can enshroud with their avatar, since the avatar itself is a primarily aetheric being who's using the reaper as a steady source of aether. essentially the same concept, just instead of a primal or a construct, it's a voidsent.

Round 1, Pick 29 - Tyler Guyton, OT, Oklahoma:
NFL: The Cowboys bolster their offensive line with a player with the versatility to play either tackle position thanks to his athleticism. Guyton's elite traits could make him the next great Dallas O-lineman.
CBS Sports: B. This is a move that has been predicted by a lot of people. He played right tackle in college, but can move to the left side. This fills a major need.
ESPN: You never want to be forced into taking a specific position in the draft, but the Cowboys almost had to come away with an offensive lineman in the first round. By trading with Detroit, the Cowboys cost themselves a chance to take center Graham Barton, who is more ready to play right away, but Guyton plays a premium position at tackle. He will need time to adjust to the pro game as well as likely a new position after starting just 15 games at Oklahoma with 13 coming at right tackle. Replacing a legend like Tyron Smith at left tackle would be difficult for any rookie but patience might be the biggest key when assessing Guyton as a rookie.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: CBS asked him to stop writing letters to bring back AIRWOLF.
Round 2, Pick 56 - Marshawn Kneeland, DE, Western Michigan:
NFL: Demarcus Lawrence turns 32 in a few days, so taking a pass rusher whom many evaluators believed would be a top-50 pick makes a lot of sense. Kneeland caught my eye in Mobile at the Senior Bowl with his effort, natural strength and mass as a strong-side rush prospect. He's not ready for primetime yet, but Kneeland is a very intriguing player and a smart value pick here.
CBS Sports: B-. Big-time tester who might be just scratching the surface of how good he can be around the corner. Doesn’t quite play to his workout but works the edges of OTs very well. Shows glimpses of countering ability. Just didn’t ever dominate in the MAC. Roll of the dice.
ESPN: While others see running back and linebacker as a need, defensive end is a need too, especially when factoring in the departures in free agency of Dorance Armstrong and Dante Fowler Jr., and with DeMarcus Lawrence in the final year of his contract. Kneeland had 13 sacks and 28 tackles for loss in his career, but never topped more than 4.5 in a season.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Tried to fight The Most Interesting Man in the World when he was 7.
Round 3, Pick 73 - Cooper Beebe, OG, Kansas State:
NFL: I'm shocked Beebe lasted this long. To me, he's one of the most bust-proof players in this draft class, even if it's at a lower-priority position. But Beebe is a perfect fit in Dallas, where he can compete for a starting job eventually and provide strong depth inside. He could even be tried at center, if needed.
CBS Sports: B+. The reconstruction of the OL continues in Dallas. Older, super-experienced guard-only who’s rarely out of position. Athletic limitations are obvious. Low center of gravity gives him quality anchor. Smart pick here despite minimal upside. High floor.
ESPN: With Zack Martin potentially entering the final year of his time with the Cowboys, Beebe can be seen as a future starter at guard. There are some who believe he can play center, which is a need for the Cowboys even as they profess faith in Brock Hoffman. At Kansas State, however, he played every spot but center, although he saw time there in practices. He has the credentials as a two-time Big 12 Offensive Lineman of the Year.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: He once farted so bad, everyone started looking for a body.
Round 3, Pick 87 - Marist Liufau, LB, Notre Dame:
NFL: Liufau was one of the last players on the cutting-room floor of my final top 100 list. He uses unusually long arms and rare burst to blow up his fair share of plays, but Liufau might be best off as a special-teams demon until he can refine his craft more as a linebacker.
CBS Sports: C+. Hair-on-fire off-ball LB who gets the expected results with that style. Many missed tackles. Many highlight-reel hits. Showed he can cover underneath. Plays faster than his workout. More build up speed than pure burst. Ball skills are lacking and can be easily baited by play-action. Plus blitzer. Fun add here but overaggression hurts him at times.
ESPN: The Cowboys signed Eric Kendricks in free agency, but linebacker was still a major need even with last year's third-round pick DeMarvion Overshown coming back from a torn ACL. He started the final 25 games of his career at Notre Dame and had 44 tackles, six tackles for loss and three sacks. He was a pre-draft visitor to the Cowboys, which has been a precursor to the team selecting players in recent years.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Still upset about the Pluto thing… I mean is it a planet or dog?
Round 5, Pick 174 - Caelen Carson, CB, Wake Forest:
NFL: With the drop-off at corner, I thought Carson might go a round or two earlier than this, but I am guessing his size and durability questions knocked him down a bit. Carson isn't an elite playmaker but could vie for nickel and special teams duty.
CBS Sports: B+. Smaller outside CB with just enough quicks to scoot inside if he needs to. Instincts are there. Quicker than fast. And some stiffness appears on film when getting out of his backpedal to change directions. Sound tackler. Not a standout trait type but does everything well.
ESPN: The running back wait continues, but Carson was under consideration by the Cowboys at pick No. 73 when they took Beebe. He did not record an interception in each of his final two seasons and had just three for his career, but he had 42 tackles, one tackle for loss, eight pass deflections, a forced fumble and a fumble recovery last season. With Trevon Diggs coming off a torn ACL and Stephon Gilmore currently unsigned, cornerback was a need for the Cowboys even if they had re-signed Jourdan Lewis.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Knows 87 different birds species the Jack Daw is his favorite.
Round 6, Pick 216 - Ryan Flournoy, WR, Southeast Missouri State:
NFL: Flournoy was surprisingly present at the Senior Bowl, besting several bigger-school corners and consistently catching short and intermediate passes. His speed might be undersold, but Flournoy might be close to maxed out as a prospect.
CBS Sports: A. Big, chiseled vertical threat who makes it a nightmare for DBs to corral him once he gets the ball in his hands. While he’s not incredibly sudden, he is a horse in space. Back-shoulder skill is there. Love this pick.
ESPN: The running back wait continues as the Cowboys go with Flournoy, who performed well against better competition at the Senior Bowl. He is older, turning 25 in October, he caught 118 passes for 1,823 yards and 13 touchdowns in two years at Southeast Missouri. The Cowboys have CeeDee Lamb, Brandin Cooks and Jalen Tolbert as their top three receivers and have a role for KaVontae Turpin and like Jalen Brooks' ability. Martavis Bryant ended last season on the practice squad and will have a chance to show if he can recapture the ability he showed in Pittsburgh before a series of suspensions. At 6-2, 205 pounds, Flournoy has the size the Cowboys like in their receivers.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Pick 216! Quick, call someone in Cleveland and let them know.
Round 7, Pick 233 - Nathan Thomas, OT, Louisiana-Lafayette:
NFL: Thomas was a high school tight end who has successfully shifted to left tackle in college, which is probably where he'll be tried in the NFL. He's an unrefined product but has enough upside to invest in here.
CBS Sports: A. No-nonsense power blocker with serious girth and starting caliber length to stay at OT in the NFL. Not a high-level athlete but wins with initial quicks and a deft utilization of his length to get into DL’s in a flash. Recovery want-to is there. One of my favorite blockers in the class.
ESPN: At this point of a draft, it's about traits. At 6-5, 334 pounds, he was a two-year starter. This is the third offensive lineman the Cowboys have taken, but the first on Day 3. The Cowboys have used picks on the final day on Richards, Waletzko, Ball, Matt Farniok and Tyler Biadasz since Mike McCarthy took over as coach. Only Biadasz, a fourth-rounder, developed into a starter. Thomas could have some position flexibility as a guard, too.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Once mused that death is just another path, one that we all must take.
Round 7, Pick 244 - Justin Rogers, DT, Auburn:
NFL: Rogers is blocky and stiff, but he's tough to move in the run game and could make it as a run-stopping interior defender.
CBS Sports: C. Classic block-eating nose tackle. Knows how to handle doubles and will occasionally make a play against the run. Lacks the burst, length, or hand work to win routinely up the field.
ESPN: Defensive tackle is a need. The Cowboys lost Johnathan Hankins in free agency and Mazi Smith, their first-round pick last year, did not produce much as a rookie and is coming back from shoulder surgery. A seventh-round pick does not prevent the Cowboys from looking at a veteran defensive tackle. Rogers is 6-3, 346 pounds, so he would have the size to help the run defense. At Kentucky and Auburn he had 94 tackles, seven tackles for loss and three sacks.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Odds are he has a reddit account and posts on cat subs.

Some of you may have read my post a few weeks ago about a shelter I'd been volunteering at since last July and how confused and frustrated I was because they don't post most of their cats on their website or Facebook for 2 months (sometimes longer). I deleted the post because i was so scared someone would recognize it and retaliate, but they terminated me as a volunteer for "asking too many questions," so now I don't care.
Some background: There was zero reason for this--I'm not talking about cats who were feral or cats who came in with significant injuries or illnesses. And it didn't take them 2 months to get their cats fixed either so that wasn't the reason (which I don't know why they wouldn't at least post them before being fixed anyway). They'd also not be moved up to adoptable areas and would be stuck in these two small rooms in the very back of the shelter right next to the super loud dog kennels--just a nightmare space to put any cats in, let alone all the newer ones who are terrified to begin with. And no, it wasn't due to stray hold (which is only 5 days there) because they'd do the same thing with owner surrendered cats too, who have no hold at this shelter.
Well, I finally brought up my concerns to them--and I did so in the nicest way humanly possible and was not judgmental, rude or anything like that, just offered to help them write bios or take photos or do website updates, if they needed help. I reached out to a board member first, who ignored me. Then I spoke to their feline program manager directly and she didn't answer any of my questions about their process, but she let me write ONE bio for a cat I was super close to and whose adoption fee I had sponsored--a super sweet, healthy 16-year-old named Max whose owner had died and who they left stuck in the back rooms for over 6 weeks for no reason whatsoever. Then they finally moved him up and he still wasn't on their website for 2 more weeks. Guess what? Literally a day after I wrote my bio and they posted him, he was adopted (they said they saw him online and fell in love). That's what happens when you actually let the public know your cats exist.
And then, a week later, I decided to kindly ask one more time if I could assist with anything to help get cats posted sooner (and this time I CCd the shelter director on the email just in case she wasn't even aware this was happening--and by her response, she seemed clueless but also didn't seem to care). I got an incredibly rude and belittling response back from the cat manager because apparently the board member I had reached out to weeks prior who had ignored me forwarded my questions/concerns to her and the director, and she was livid and berated me for contacting a board member. I'm sorry but at other shelters I've volunteered at we were allowed to speak to board members.
They then "terminated" me as a volunteer two weeks ago for "asking too many questions over the past week," telling me "we THOUGHT we had someone here helping cats, but we didn't." They didn't even give me the courtesy of calling or emailing me to tell me this. Instead, they still made me drive 40 minutes to my early morning regular Saturday shift, then immediately pulled me into a room and told me this. They were completely rude and unprofessional about all of it, never thanked me for the countless hours I spent there, my donations nearly every week (I even bought my own gloves because they didn't provide them and cat toys and catnip every week because half their cats wouldn't even have a single toy in their cage!), etc.
Anyway, since some of you seemed to be making excuses for them or trying to think of logical reasons last time, I will let you know the reasons they gave me for some of the cats:

1. They don't move neutered cats up "until the testosterone leaks out of their urine and it isn't stinky anymore" (however, even after they move them up, they STILL wouldn't post them online for at least an entire week later, oftentimes 2 or 3 weeks or never!). This one is way, way out there.
2. A cat who has been there since December and has had intermittent diarrhea is still not posted. A staff member even told me their vet thinks it's from shelter stress. Well, their reason for not posting him? "It wouldn't be fair to Valvoline or to his new family. We want to get his diarrhea under control first."
3. "Me and my staff need time to get to know the cats. We can't adopt them out if we know nothing about them." Not only is this insane, but even after they were there for 2 months, the staff would know very little about them. I would know which cats liked to play, what their favorite toys were, which ones were crazy about catnip, which ones liked to be brushed, where their favorite spots to be pet were, if they liked treats or not--but they hardly ever knew any of that when I'd mention something. Because I actually paid attention to them and spent time with them.

There were a few other nonsensical excuses both the cat manager and their director gave me, but not a single good reason was provided. They are incompetent, toxic, and I will not miss never seeing them again but I do feel bad for the cats stuck there. And for anyone who wants to blame this on me, their own volunteer coordinator quit last year because she told me she was so disrespected and the place was toxic, and others have had similar experiences. I was never anything other than friendly and respectful to them and spent a ton of time there and did a really good job with both cleaning and just connecting with the cats. I could go on and on about how awful the place is in many different ways, but this is already way too long.

I used to be a fencesitter. I became a parent. I have fencesitting sisters now. I'm wondering about having another child. But more than all of this, I'm just struck by the public discourse about having kids, and not much of it matches my experience, so I try to analyze why the discourse is what it is, and I like the perspectives on here.
I notice a lot of people talk about The Baby Decision on this sub, so I decided to borrow it from my library and read it. I got through like 4-5 chapters, and I have some opinions on it that I thought might be interesting to people on here.
The authors have thought about things and tried to consult experts etc. When it comes to practical advice, they have a few good chapters, like the checklist for if you're ready to be a parent. But there were glaring issues with the whole approach to this decision which makes me wonder if this is even a good book for this purpose.
One of the first things that struck me was presenting parenting as a "job where your boss is a hard taskmaster, you receive no pay, have to work 24x7, and this job lasts 18 years". The author doesn't seem to present being childfree as a choice where "you have a job where you try to fill the family-shaped hole in your life with incessant travel" or something equally disingenuous and unrepresentative. I guess it leans into the pop culture notions of what parenting is, but it feels like anyone who isn't terminally online doesn't actually feel like that's what parenting is.
The author further sells the book with this whole "you need to consider this decision very carefully and plan every aspect of it, otherwise you will REGRET". She says you will be trapped without an out if you don't make the decision carefully enough. She literally says that if others seem to have decided more quickly, that's not true, they probably took a long time to decide, or they made a bad decision. In my experience, this is a false dichotomy. The world isn't divided into well-considered extremely planned decisions and wrong decisions. A lot of the best things in my life have been decided on the fly. Most of the happiest people I know don't ruminate over decisions, while the unhappy ones agonize over every decision. There's a lot more to decisionmaking than how much time and thought you spend on it. Most life-saving decisions for instance are made in a snap.
I also don't know how much ruminating over a decision like having children is supposed to help with it. Maybe it's because I used to do this and then got out of ruminative patterns using cognitive behavioral therapy recently, but rumination really isn't great for mental health. And what exactly are you getting out of thinking over this decision a lot? Thinking back to my past when I agonized about kids, it feels like this doesn't get you any closer to making a better decision. From this alone, it feels like this book is a recommendation for a holding pattern which you can get into to feel productive while the real work of getting ready for the rest of your life happens as it does anyway.
There's a lot of specific notes I've made about when she actually gets into the meat and bones of having children, and I can go into that if required. But the underlying assumption I have a huge problem with is it assumes you're the exact same person with the exact same life, but there's a baby or there's not a baby. But that's not true.
Most people change when kids come along. You don't know how to prioritize something that's not there in your life, so you're not going to understand how to make room for a child unless there's a child in your house already. We're like that with a lot of things. Until I have a boyfriend, I'm not going to know what it's going to be like to live with a boyfriend. I don't think it'll particularly help to pay someone to leave their dirty underwear on the floor now and then to understand what it's like, just because my friend told me that's what her boyfriend does that drives her insane. If I decide "hm, it's not so bad" based on the underwear-leaver, that's still not a very considered decision anyway.
But also, does it really matter that you know what exactly having a boyfriend is going to be like day to day, before you have one? You probably just think "It's going to be a new experience, and I mostly trust this guy to respect me and not throw too many things I can't handle at me, and if he leaves his underwear on the floor, I'll just talk to him about it."
It feels like having a child is similar too. I didn't find any thought of "am i made to change diapers?" to be useful. Most parenting skills are not hard to master. You just need to have empathy, confidence and some external support and you're mostly set. Plus, everything I imagined about parenting was wrong. Diapers weren't as big a deal as a lot of memes made it out to be. I couldn't write my book while my child happily played by my feet (as one author wrote in the acknowledgements section of his book). The exercise she makes you do where you imagine having a child in all sorts of situations (including asking you if you imagine nursing your baby to be erotic, wtf is up with that), I'm not sure how it's going to help you make an informed decision.
I couldn't have told you ahead of time that I I have a phobia of playground equipment. It didn't come up until my kid was 18mo and wanted to go on the mom-and-kid swing for like 2 hrs daily. I also couldn't have told you ahead of time that I'd get over it with my husband's help. So doing an exercise where im imagining playing with my child wouldn't have given me any new information that was actually practically useful. Or like, I'd have imagined I'd have a large family happy to help with my child, and I had no reason to think otherwise. My child came along and at 12mo I realized I don't want her in my mom's care until she's like 3.
Most of all, none of this ever gives you an idea of the emotions you feel for your child. It makes all the other things that seem hard into something easy and reasonable. And this book doesn't account for that. It assumes and even asserts for you that your emotions for a child will be what you imagine them to be, and that's not true. It's not just the love, it's the awareness, the connection, the seeing your inner child in your child, and the wanting the best for them. This for most parents I know has been the predominant emotion of parenting, even if they aren't articulate about it. When this big aspect of parenting is missing from a book called the 'baby decision', how good is it really?
It could be argued that this aspect of parenting is personal and wishy washy. But then the author doesn't hesitate to go into other wishy washy aspects. She says babies can feel like monsters and that "a lot of" moms feel like babies are monsters. She finds some source that asserts that Mary Shelly was describing her babies when she described Frankenstein's Monster. Not Mary Shelley herself, but some random critic who tries to divine what Mary Shelley was thinking. I don't know why this whole section is in the book, it's really weird.
There's also this other section of the book where she talks about "games childfree/parents play". I find that whole section quite unhealthy coming from a CBT perspective. She tries to divine motives for when people tell you "you'd make a great parent" or "but you have a happy life, why would you want to throw that away for kids?" In one part she says "they intend to punish you for having a happy family life that they dont have" or something. It feels like a recipe for mental illness to think like that and/or have a book reiterate that. Attributing ill-intent to random things people say for a million different reasons is not healthy in the least.
Another big aspect of the book I found unhelpful was this equivocating of having kids vs not having kids. They are actually very very different lives, not a coin toss. You'll end up finding some sort of happiness and sadness in either life, given your inherent tendencies of being happy or sad. For instance, I had decided I wouldn't have kids if it was risky or not easily happening. Whether I get pregnant quickly isn't something in my hands, but it did happen and hence I have a child. If it didn't happen naturally for me, I would have been childfree. That the decision can go either way, and that I'd find ways to be happy in both ways doesn't mean that both choices are the same. Me with child is not just me without child minus time and money plus elder care.
I guess this is the core of it that I don't find anyone talking about. Being a parent is a developmental stage. Sure, there are many emotionally stunted parents, but that's not what I'm talking about. Being a parent presents you with an opportunity to change your concept of your self and how you view the world. You get to see your own inner child and figure out what you want to do with that, and if you want that to inform any healing you needed. You are forced to make all the decisions for a little version of you, who has their own needs and preferences, so you're trying to navigate the world, but with a level of detachment. I find this experience to be an opportunity to learn the kind of detachment that is touted around a lot in Buddhism and Hinduism, for instance, as a way to a higher state of being. There are many many many accounts including in celebrity memoirs that talk of the internally transformative nature of parenting. You cannot predict exactly how this is going to go for you, the same as you cannot in advance predict your attitude towards playground equipment. But if you're discussing everything else about parenting, why not this as well? Especially since this is the part that determines how you'll feel about the rest of the stuff. Not everyone has to go through this experience, but knowing that this exists is a big part of making the decision of whether or not.
Another side of this is it talks about regret the same way on both sides. I don't think it works quite that way. When you're experiencing regret, it's usually a singular moment or a collection of singular moments. When you make the choice to not have children, it's easy during a singular moment to trace things back to this choice to not have kids. But when you're experiencing a regretful moment as a parent, the choice you'd trace your unhappiness back to would be stuff like "we should have picked a different school where she wouldn't have had such assholes for friends" or "I should have been stricter about studies" or "I should have spent less time at the office". There's too many choices to go back to, so your mind doesn't go back as often to "I shouldn't have had kids at all". Usually too much water has flown under the bridge to go all that way back, a lot of it with happy moments, so it takes a lot of pain to get a parent to be regretful of having had each individual kid at all. Whether or not the choice to have kids has been bad for you, just from the way your mind works and how life works, it might not attribute it to that original decision.
A third but minor theme that I find to be unhelpful is the whole "You can't say 'we can figure this out when the baby comes' because if you disagree on this, you probably won't be good parents together and should probably not have a child' type of attitude. Things change a lot with a kid in the mix, including your own attitudes to things as I've mentioned earlier. If you'd asked me and my husband pre-kid if we'd consider being a fulltime parent, we'd have said NO. But about a year into parent life, we were basically drawing straws for who gets to be the SAHP, and we have taken turns. All our family and friends have been quite surprised by what we've done. The reason we were able to do this is because despite our differences, we worked on communicating our needs and being authentic about what made us happy and sad and could trust each other with vulnerability, and all this was centered around what was best for our child. Other parents we know have also made dramatically different decisions as the situation demanded.
There are many aspects of the book that are decent, like dispelling common myths etc, but since this is a book about making a big decision, it felt weird to me that it wasn't talking about important parts of these decisions.
The thing I realize is a family is a complex system. You can't plan for all of it, and if you do, it won't go according to plan and leave you super disappointed. The best thing to do is to optimize for greatness while hedging against negative outcomes. Like marrying an equal partner. Or looking for rent-controlled homes in a great school district on craigslist as a matter of habit. Or developing expertise in your career so you can opt out briefly if you want to be there for kids, or opt out briefly so you can hike the pacific crest trail, without having to worry about the career hit. As for the actual decision, I feel like there needs to be more content on the internal experience of parenting rather than just the scheduling and butt-wiping, but apart from that, I feel like more people will be helped by thinking of it not as a decision to make, but an opportunity they can refuse if they don't feel it'll be right for them.

Medium for PS5 could've had a masterpiece of a story spoilers
I just finished Medium and I must say the pull of the story was excellent. As soon as the scene with Jack occurred, I was all in. I needed to know where the story went. The pacing, atmosphere, sound (play with headphones as recommended), and unique concept (two dimensions at once) were delivered in an excellent manner.

I enjoyed checking every item and reading every file. The mysteries became very intriguing and kept me enthralled. Sadness was a very interesting character and trying to find her name so you could set her free was a very strong plot point. The Maw's delivery was excellent. Voiced by Troy Baker, it always felt disturbing and one of the only enemies that made me feel anxious as I ran from it. You really couldn't make any mistakes to get away as it truly, desperately wanted to catch you. The mysteries of what it was and where it came from also pulled me in.

I was a little confused about Thomas's office in Niwa but then I noticed the circle of salt around his desk. That combined with his memory stating something was coming tells me that he survived the Maw attack by surrounding himself in salt in a hurry (broken salt container in his desk). Some time later I thought he called Marianne and went into the spirit world using the symbols in the secret room (Marianne said those symbols felt like a curtain blowing in the wind). It makes sense given Thomas decided he was going to find his other half after setting Marianne's arrival in motion. It also makes sense on why he was nowhere to be found. But then I realized the call came from the Maw. It knew about her dreams because the dreams came from Lily. It pretended to be Thomas to get Marianne there. The line about the light fading proves it as it's the same line the Maw uses at the end by the lake. Finally The after credits proves it was the real Thomas in the spirit world as he was holding the watch his wife gave him on their 10 year anniversary. Again I love the details.

Now for the small problems I have with the story. The third act just kind've threw in some new plot device without much set up. Henry literally came out of nowhere but was central to everything that happened. This as opposed to Richard who was set up for some time before the big reveal. Even going back as seeing the memory of the nurse killing him makes sense once you learn where the Maw came from. The Maw's first victim was the man who helped create it. But Henry just showed up, attacked Thomas, set fire to the house, trapped spirit Thomas, then died. His short encounter was near impossible to predict and just as easily disappeared leaving us dealing with the damage dealt. Henry's involvement just felt rushed compared to everything else. There's so many unexplained parts of his involvement.

I get that he doing Thomas by noticing the article of Richard's vegetative state. His motivation seems to be that he's a dedicated government agent and just loves his job?

Why did he want Thomas to show his power rather then just arresting him?

How did Henry lay that trap for spirit Thomas without knowing what Thomas could actually do?

How did spirit Thomas even survive? I'm guessing real Thomas killed Henry before the beast could finish spirit Thomas but also left him trapped in Henry's mind.

Then there's Lillianne. Where was she living this entire time? How did she survive? Was she just checking the lake every day for years? She had some very distinct bandages on her legs and arms. Seems like a detail that should have an explanation.

Was Sadness just a manifestation of Lily, like the Maw? Is she like the child inside your mind that if Marianne sent away, would've put Lily in a vegetative state? Why was she missing an arm? I think trying to discover her death was a draw of the early game just to find out she's just a red herring there to motivate Marianne into finding the truth. I particularly liked the part where you're following the blinking lights as Sadness' only was to tell you where to go. It felt very supernatural and ghostly which helped set the tone. It put a damper later when you find out her role in all this.

As you can see most of my questions are elements introduced in the third act. The ending although faded to black didn't leave many options. Marianne killing herself would solve nothing. Killing Lily and sending away the May is the only solution. Some claim Thomas might've showed up and killed Lily to fulfill the dream, but he's not even in their realm. Since Marianne is no idiot, she either killed Lily or didn't shoot anyone. If she didn't kill Lily then maybe she thought of another way to get rid of the Maw. But obviously we have no idea so it's have to assume Lily is dead and now Thomas continues his search for his spirit half who may now have died protecting Marianne. Great story that could've been a masterpiece. Still a great game overall.

-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-
Romuna Administrative Orbital Headquarters, United Confederation Occupied Territories of Earth (QUAL-ZANV)
May 8, 1945
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Commander Dunajski
- - - - - -
We were the watchful eyes over Earth. That was my job. The only thing second to that was the search for the missing pieces of my life.
As usual, however, that work was hard. After all, the past two years had been the same process. I get my human subordinates to find a list of names from anywhere: concentration camps, labour camps, ghettos, and all of those rotten places. Then, they'd hand me a report with the unimportant names blacked out and only the specific names I needed were left uncrossed. I had spent two years doing that process, every day on this station was spent doing that. Finding those two was the main goal of my life; It's what let me wake up every morning. The hope of a reunion.
But, until I got my hands on another report, I was keeping myself busy with monitoring my subordinates on the Romnua Space Headquarters as we orbited over Southern Africa. Something to help me take my mind off of everything was admiring our native Earth from my post. The golden deserts of Namibia and the green rainforests of the Congo dominated the view from the huge glass wall that separated us from the cold vacuum of space. Although I’ve been on this damn station for two years now, the sights never cease to get a gasp of amazement from me.
The Confederation used this station and 16 others to monitor and keep tabs on anything happening on Earth. We were the keen observers that protected Earth from any foreign incursion.
A bit ironic coming from the people who invaded us.
At least the Germans didn’t fill us with such lies.
The only reason why they chose me to run this joint human-Confederation sector was because I was an unwilling favourite of their high command. I was one of the best remaining generals in Poland. I served in the Great War and the Polish-Soviet War as a lowly troop, but I was a respected general by the time of the German invasion in 1939.
I defended my country for as long as I could. I resisted for a long time after our official surrender. When the Nazis got to me, they carted me off to a labour camp. Then I escaped and continued the fight on the British Isles, being airdropped and ferried out on multiple occasions. Once the Confederation arrived, my fight against the Nazis and their brutal occupation ended, but I was left without the sunshine of my life.
“Here’s the registered civilian report, sir,” a Lithuanian lieutenant saluted as he handed me a manila folder with a printed paper that had a list of names typed onto it. Even though Lithuania and Poland weren’t the greatest of chums before the war, occupation by the Soviet and Nazi barbarians created a sense of tragic camaraderie between our people.
“Did you file out the names?” I asked calmly, flipping open the folder. I kept my ears open for the response as I waded my hands across pages of paper with smooth flips.
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant replied as my eyes scanned the paper. The names were crossed out in black marker. I scanned it top-to-bottom and page after page. I began to lose hope even more, but then again, it’s not like there was much left of it anyway.
I had been searching for them for two long years. Two years of going against the rules of our hulky alien occupiers. I used their systems to find evidence and our tools to file them out into something comprehensible. I wouldn’t trust an “AI” to find the names I was looking for. The Germans kept well organised records of everything well-organised, so a good thorough search was probably the best thing I had. Still, however, it was an arduous process.
But, just as that thought appeared in my mind, it was my eyes that had fixed on the one name I had been anticipating for the last two years:
Katarzyna Kaminski. My love.
I must’ve jumped with joy. I’d done it! I found her! After what? Six long years of waiting and searching! Finally! First my wife, and then that would open the gate to finding my son too! After so long! I’d see them again! This day was something to be remembered forever!
“Oh, you did your job spectacularly!” I cheered to the lieutenant. However, his expression was more grim.
“Ne, pone,” he advised sombrely in Lithuanian, shaking his head. "The top of the page.”
I was so hooked in my search for any sign of my family that I forgot to even read the title of the page. Looking up, my eyes locked onto the print and read. In a moment, my hopes were stamped out and rage and suffering swallowed my heart like the deep blue ocean.
Registered List of All Prisoners Killed in Auschwitz Death Camp in the Year of Our Lord 1942
Everything went silent in an instant. I froze upright with my eyes glued to the paper. My ears began to ring like a shell had just hit nearby. My face bubbled red in embarrassment, rage, and most of all, misery. My legs felt just about ready to collapse inward and my hips were ready to explode outwards. My body pushed against itself, betraying my fundamental being as my eyes reread the name over and over, trying to make some worthless attempt to console my burning body of emission. None of it worked.
My Katarzyna. Gone. In one sentence. All my joy trampled in a second.
She died not even with a proper burial. She died leaving her son and not knowing if her fighting husband would even embrace her again. All of my searching, and the result was this. This.
It seems that the story of my search for my loved ones ended here. But upon reviewing the rest of the list in silence, I couldn’t find a single mention of a Jakub Dunajski. All my hope was gone to the extent that I held out no idea that Jakub survived the camps.
If his mother didn’t, then he didn’t either.
The final verdict of my search hit me like a train: I would never see my family again.
That depressing day I had to leave them in September of that fateful year was the last time I’d ever see my son and wife again. Our paths diverged with me toling in labour camps hoping to escape to find them once more. And while I was fighting onwards in England, they were shipped to Auschwitz to die. While I was toiling in captivity, they were being beaten and tortured daily. While the Confederation swept across Europe, they were gassed or gunned down in their cots.
After all this time, the thought that I had been suppressing for my entire search was now the dominant ruler of my brain. It was the fact that I had failed them.
I did not sob loudly, I did not scream. Nor did I stamp the floor or tear the page from the folder. I resisted them all. As I had for the past six years. The only response the Lithuanian got from me was a barely audible whimper and a tear.
The tear rolled from my eye down my shaved cheek, slowly dripping down and curving up to my chin in a swift motion. It hung there delicately as if it was absorbing all of my pain into it. Then, when the load became too much for it to bear, it fell. Quickly slipping off and dropping down before it slapped against the white page with a plop. A stain that looked like a crater in no man’s land now rested, ingrained into the paper that killed my hope.
The paper that essentially killed my wife.
Silence engulfed the room and ringing my ears as the words and black marker on the paper became no more than a blur, incomprehensible and unidentifiable. That’s what I wanted anyway, every glance at the page would just finalise the fact that it all was over. That I was alone.
“Legion-Commander Henix wants to see you,” an unforgiving feminine alien voice came from behind me. I jumped in response as my head flew back to meet the alien.
It was a Yetiayhu. And, as was apparently commonplace, they had the typical fangs and talons that all species other than us seemed to have, along with a giant tail that had a little ball of fur at the very end of it. Adding onto that, the Yetiayhu had large expansive cool-coloured frills that were interrupted by little blackish-blue dots here and there, like some Amazonian animal. Their bodies were slimmer than others but still pretty much buff tanks compared to me.
“For what purpose?” I replied with a brow raised in suspicion. My experience in the military and as a resistance head gave me a good tutorial on how to suppress the tears in one’s voice. After years upon years of endless trial and error, I had pretty much perfected it. But, in the case of my reddened eyes, I brought the brim of my military cap down to obscure my eyes.
“He didn’t tell me. Get moving,” the Yetiayhu hissed, her frills fluttering in annoyance.
I almost forgot that the aliens didn’t give a shit about any of our feelings. I’m sure showing too much emotion was an offence in the Confederation military. Could you imagine emotion being a punishable offence? What sort of dystopian fascist hellhole did that!?
Oh wait, I could think of one: Nazi Germany.
My eyes subtly fixed on the Yetiayhu with a bit of contempt that she came to me at my worst moment. I just found out that my wife was unceremoniously killed in a death camp, and she was just acting as pouty as a kid. Granted, she didn’t know of my suffering, but that attitude is deserving of a wrist-slap back on my world.
Too bad for me, the world I’m referring to was no longer even ours anymore.
“You better show some respect,” I huffed, containing my emotions in a little capsule of misery.
“Last time I checked, you were still a transpec,” she scoffed. “Get to his office. Now.”
I couldn’t say no. The first was because she was right about our species’ standing as a “Transitional Species”. But the other reason was because the females of these species were huge. It made sense since their system of governance was a matriarchy. But even then, this bitchy Yetiayhu was a good 2.3 metres tall, towering over me by quite a bit.
Why the hell were these species so damn demonic? Did nature really just shit on us for all of evolution? Every single alien species I had ever seen was some sort of superhuman being. Was there some galactic hierarchy that I didn’t know of? But whatever, there was nothing I could ever do about that fact. The most concerning thing on my platter now was finding the fate of my only child. Whatever Henix had would have to come second.
But either way, I obliged. Leaving my little command sector with a scowl. The doors hissed shut behind me and I turned to my left and began my journey. To prevent an emotional disaster, I tried to ease my haywire senses by inspecting the futuristic facility around me.
Around me was a circular walkway that wrapped around the edge of the station as the outer rim wrapped around the core. Now that I think about it, the station resembled more like a solar system than the bullseye some of the Hungarians compared it to. There was a huge spherical central command at the core of the structure, and then there were the rims. Those were essentially shorter tube structures that wrapped around the centre. Like an orbit.
But these “orbits” weren’t separated by any spaces at all and were all bunched together and connected. The only open space in this station was between the centre and the outer sectors, which was only punctuated by multiple pressurised walkways. The other sectors and posts were in a concentric batch of circular structures around the core. Where I was going, was into the core.
I strolled along the outskirt walkway before taking a right turn into the deeper sections of the station. The view changed from a large window of space to machines and tech beyond my comprehension as I made my way into the inner sectors. The closer it was to the core, the more important it was. These areas were exclusively for the Confederation members, so no human without permission or clearance could enter. But apparently, they were okay when I was there. Many of them gave parting glances before getting back to their work on their “holograms” and “holopads”.
That was something to note, the tech difference between our two civilisations was greater than we could even conceived of, following the Armistice. I watched as humanity went from pigeons and telegraphs to radios and enigma. Now these aliens had “networks” and “internets”. All the new tech was annoying and complex, I never knew what to do. That’s why my sector, the only sector with humans, used telegraphs, enigma, morse, paper, ink, pen, typewriters, and everything else that you would find in an earthly workplace.
I went through a workplace that was basically a science fiction book. It had bright white individual work pods, big glowing blue screens that weren’t even tangible, and so many other things that were too much for me to comprehend. This was stuff only a writer could come up with! Even if we had all of the guns, tanks, and planes our planet’s resources would’ve let us make, it still wouldn’t have even come close to the weapons of the Confederation and their sophistication.
After a long stroll through the labyrinth of connected stations and workplaces, I finally reached the connecting walkways. I entered a little middle chamber that hissed a little gas onto me and ran over me with a blue and red laser. The other doors then opened and I was let through into the lightless walkway.
Once again, only space shined through the top glass dome that ran across the whole upper section of the walkway. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t even gaze at the stars due to the circumference of the spherical central command blocking half my vision. The outside cover of the sphere was white and hexagon padded, which just added to the already humongous gap between humanity and our Confederation conquerors.
But, even if I looked beyond that when no structures were blocking my view, I could see at least a hundred or more blocky slabs of black and grey.
And there it was, the Confederation Occupational Fleet. It was so menacing with all of their Vatican-sized ships. Except, those ships were only frigates. Their fleet had cruisers, frigates, destroyers, battleships, battle cruisers, carriers, supercarriers, and everything in between. All to monitor our little desolate rock of two billion.
Their supercarriers which were probably the size of Rome, were the prides of the enemy fleet. Those bulky beasts and their battleships were the literal symbols of their superiority. All of these ships had enough firepower to raze a good million or so Earths. Why they sent all of this to deal with a species that hadn’t done anything past grazing space with a V-2 rocket was beyond me.
Overkill, My mind ranted to itself. Ego just radiates off those ships like heat from the sun!
Speaking of the sun, in a good few months, there wouldn’t even be one.
Or, to be more specific, it would be pretty much enclosed in a megastructure to harness power from it. The Confederation called their mad project a “Hrana Complex”. Construction began even before they attacked Earth, and they were making progress. Whenever a human complained about it, the Confederation ilk always shot them down with either a patronisation of their primitive nature or a response that there would be a small window for Earth to receive light; As if that was better.
The sun was dimmer and dimmer by the day, the one light that all humans looked up to was fading. Blocked out by tech and machines from the occupying powers. That’s like if the Germans built a big space shield to block America from the sun and kill all of their crops or something.
The idea was so alien that not even I could come up with a relatable explanation for it!
After a long while of distracting myself with successful results, I finally reached the other side of the walkway, which was a large metal door. I now had to push the heavy metal door open with difficulty as it slowly hissed open. Upon entering, I was greeted by two Bwkas, who were basically supersized humanoid bears, but with deadly attributes tripled in their power and appearance. Of course, I was met with the average stare of contempt as I made my way up to them.
“And why are you here?” one of them growled with venom as it balanced its heavy rifle in its claws. Those “rifles” were the size of an anti-tank rifle or an Ami bazooka. The difference was that it was also automatic and powered by plasma. Just by seeing that, anyone could’ve already predicted it to you that humanity was doomed from the start of the war.
“Legion-Commander Henix wanted to speak with me?” I replied with a head tilt.
“Up the stairs and down the left hall to the right,” the other grumbled with a snarl of its fangs. He was talking as if I didn’t know where my own senior officer was.
I rolled my eyes secretly and trudged on. Scurrying off into the main lobby, I gazed up to see that the vertex of the roof was an absolutely stupendous 40 metres high! That just added a cavernous feeling to the multi-floored white chamber. It was a whole office building in space.
Not many of those were left in Warsaw anyway.
As I made my way toward the circulating stairwell, my gaze snapped to the circular stellar map that projected a huge three-dimensional view of the galaxy. I couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the glowing non-touchable lights every time I saw it. The map was of the whole known galaxy, the dark pink was the Confederation at the centre. It was huge, at least triple the size of the second largest power, whose name was in an alien tongue unknown to me. All the other colours were of the different species that were independent states and empires of their own.
Free from the forced “civilising” we were suffering through.
Annoyingly, my long black military boots slapped against the clean granite floor with loud audible clacks. This, of course, instantly drew attention from all the beasts around me. All of them looked at me with confusion before it morphed into what I assumed was judgment. These species didn’t think highly of us at all. I mean, according to them, we were uncivilised brutes. Dumb primates that just invented new ways of chucking rocks at one another.
Now, that wasn’t wrong per se. But, it wasn’t nice when that was their one sole opinion of our species.
From the beginning of my tenure here, they practically spat on me. They saw my use of our antiquated tech to be insubordination, and savage in nature. Whenever I did my Polish two-fingered salute, they saw it as disrespect and dishonour. Whenever I didn’t eat the same solely raw and carnivorous diet as them, I was a disgusting omnivore who was a greedy bastard wanting to steal from both sides.
Whatever that meant! Imagine being persecuted because of what you ate! On Earth, we were prosecuting each other over other stupid things like skin, race, ethnicity, national origin, religion, how people looked, and everything else similar.
But!
Nobody was stupid enough to get mad at each other over food. Muslims didn’t kill Christians over eating pork. Jews didn’t kill Muslims over them eating dairy and meat on the same plate. Food was food. We all needed it to survive. Yet, the aliens saw it as just another thing to hate us for.
How could these things hate us but somehow still force themselves to occupy us? Why didn’t they just let us duke it out in the battlefields and on the high seas? Why were they just lamer Nazis? Death by slow assimilation and bigotry was worse than death by starvation, labour, or the firing squad.
Making my way up some circulating steps to the second floor, I took the turn and rushed down the hall before finding the door to Henix’s room. Pushing it open with a low drum, I was met with the dark room of Legion-Commander Henix. The only thing lighting the room was, of course, empty space. Since we were higher than the orbiting sectors, his window was actually able to see into the rest of outer space.
The dimming sun reflected off of the station’s concentric exterior and the stars shined bright through thick glass and into the little dark room. The floor was akin to an emerald-coloured rug and the walls were shelves for storage devices like their “pads” and “drives”.
“Greetings, sir,” I opened to the Kohaul with a two-fingered Polish salute.
The Kohaul were the typical humanoids, but they were practically copies of wolves. Light grey fur, a huge bushy tail, and a patch of dense hair around the pelvis area that acted as a sort of frontal tail. Hazel or blue eyes. And, obviously better than us in every way as usual with fangs, semi-venomous saliva, better hearing with their dog ears, the ability to run faster, especially on all fours, and all of that useless garbage that I was used to. Humanity was clearly always the weak link.
Ending my salute and looking to the right, it was then that I noticed at least three other foreign beasts. I quickly recognised them as superiors of different stations and fleets. Why they were here just added to my paranoia.
A Wenli, a Felshan, and a Geinna. Or the more simplified version being: a humanoid dragon, a blue lizard, and a literal Pacific folk beast.
If you were to continue simplifying it even more, you’d come to the definition that they were the three species assigned to resistance mop-up duty on Earth.
“Now, now,” Henix growled. “What is the way I taught you?”
Sighing deeply, I put my Polish general cap to my chest with my left hand before bowing slightly. They wanted us to purge all of the things that made us Polish soldiers and make us their soldiers. I wasn’t going to give up so easily. No matter how much they held me in high regard. They would have to acknowledge that Poland was for the Poles and I would never be anything else.
“Now, I know you are a good commander. You have served us well,” Henix began with a flick from his dog ear. “But, something has come up in recent days that has been of horrible concern to us.”
“And that is?” I asked with a raised brow, sitting at the open chair in front of Henix with a grunt.
“Wasting Confederation equipment and materials on something unsanctioned by any relevant superior on this station,” the Geinna replied for Henix with a hiss.
Oh, kurwa.
They had caught me red-handed. Was today just the day my luck ran dry from its coffers? I was now completely at their mercy. But, these aliens were brutes. So, I was sure that I’d be beheaded within the next hour.
I had tried my best to scrub all evidence of my operations. I put in false reports and fake alerts to give them the facade of me just doing my job. It appears that they saw through my ulterior actions quickly. I was using their tech to do it. Why did I not expect them to know!?
“Now, unless you would be so kind as to tell me why, maybe I’ll pardon your charges,” Henix warned with a composure that put me off.
“Charges of what?” I asked fearfully.
“Well, normally, that would just be a reprimand or demotion at the worst. But since you are a species that we are trying to integrate into the galactic community . . . the punishment is equivalent to treason.”
Henix must’ve seen my face go pallid as his expression softened from robotic seriousness to empathy in a moment. I didn’t despise Henix at all, and this was the exact reason why.
He could feel empathy.
Unlike most Germans.
And he showed reason.
Unlike most Germans.
“Oh, no, don’t worry,” he reassured me with a sombre grin. “I personally do not wish for that fate to befall you. You have served me well. I’ll defend you. But I can’t do that if you won’t even tell me why.”
I would’ve, but I couldn’t. I trusted Henix. Sure, he was as bigoted and cold as his shitty peers. But, I could trust in his word. He wasn’t a crook. But for his comrades present? For all I knew, this was a death trap to get me to confess and to justify a sudden execution. It's not like they would've cared much if I lived or died anyway. I was expendable.
“I know nothing of this,” I affirmed, straightening myself in the slick white chair. Since I was practically a master of all things cold and emotionless, I could just put off a face of resolute honesty without any weaknesses, barring the death of Katarzyna. They’d have to fuck off eventually for that reason, and I’d be more careful with my further searches.
But then again, Katarzyna was dead, and Jakub probably was too. There was nothing else to really risk my life for. Because I had no more life. The two I loved most were gone. I could’ve just let myself die here. I had nothing else. My parents were dead, my home was rubble, my country was occupied, my wife was dead too, and my son was too. I had nothing left to fight for.
“You are the only human in this position of power,” Henix hummed. “We chose you for a reason. You had talent and composure. But this we cannot tolerate. Don’t play coy and tell us.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I huffed with concern mounting in me and gnawing on my soul. “I do not know why you seem to want to frame me for such a crime.”
“Commander Dunajski,” the Felsha snarled. “We’re not stupid. Do not try and lie to us.”
“I am not lying,” I turned to the row of beasts with a scowl. “Whatever could I even use the equipment for? My subordinates only use human machines. Typewriters. Not ‘holographic display devices’ or any of that fancy tech. Why would I even?”
“Commander Duna—”
“No,” I cut off in a calm but harsh tone, “this will not continue.”
Henix looked between the beasts and then he zeroed in on me with his steely blue eyes that rivalled mine, “I know you’re lying, Commander. This will simply mount your charges.”
“In fact,” the Felshan admiral began with a sad smirk, “you could be helping resistance movements for all we know. That level of treason is something very few get and it’s for a good reason. Does that sound like something you’d want?”
“I didn’t do any of the deeds of which I am accused,” I held my ground with a growl. “I have nothing to gain!”
“Do you not?” Henix growled, now agitated. “I’ve noticed a lot of care in searching for a ‘Katarzyna’ and ‘Jakub’. Is there any reason why?”
The Geinna nodded, “Are these contacts or aliases? You know well what fate awaits you if we prove their origin to be that of a resistance cell.”
Oh, Bog. I was really stuck now. They knew their names too. I couldn’t just shrug this off. If I continued parrying their questions, I’d totally get beheaded. They wanted us to be as meek and docile as possible. Me standing up to their accusations instead of folding probably already probably fucked up my chances of clemency.
I looked up to Henix, and his blue eyes were unforgiving. He was waiting for my next move, like a brutal game of chess. I turned to look at the three bastards to my right, their eyes were filled with scorn and disgust at me, at my people.
Just like the Germans.
“I-I . . . I don’t . . . They aren’t . . . ” I began before letting out a deep sigh to empty my tight lungs. Silence enveloped the room for a good few seconds. I couldn’t fight on anymore. I’d lost. “You win.”
“As expected,” the Wenli grumbled. “I expected better of someone like you. But I guess the nature of such a volatile and insubordinate species like you would always dominate your actions.”
I didn’t mind that blatant patronisation of me and my kind as I just looked up at Henix with decimated dreams. Henix seemed to note that I wished to talk as he leaned and sat up straight in his chair. He’d listen. But not his ilk.
“Do you have a testimony, Commander Dunajski?” Henix purred with his head leaned in on his arm.
“Well,” I began with a wince, “i-it’s for a selfish reason to be fair.”
“Mhm,” Henix replied, pulling out one of his hologram pads to write down my testimony. Even if I trusted him, as of now, I couldn’t even trust him with writing my own testimony. For all I knew, he’d probably just warp it into something reminiscent of a last-second attempt at deception or just plain begging.
Then again, he was my best chance to prevent my fate from manifesting.
“I-I-I . . .” I stuttered, not finding the words to express my suffering. My throat burned and my eyes filled with tears. My face of composure was just as fragile as my mental health. All I knew was going to shit.
“You what?” Henix snarled. “I’m not here to take stutters as a testimony. Give me a comprehensible sentence or I can call the guards in to take you to the brigs.”
“I j-just want to find my family,” I blurted blindly. Clamping my eyes shut, I waited for my reasoning to be torn apart by the monsters before me. The monsters that were killing our homes and assimilating us.
Just like the . . . Oh, you know who!
After a little while of uncomfortable silence, I reopened my eyes and looked up at my prosecutors. Henix’s ears perched up in surprise at the confession, and I heard the slaps of tails and the rustle of scales from my side. I expected that to be an even greater reason to punish me. Using their tech just to find my family? Treason it was. I couldn’t even pull myself back together when a few tears rolled down my cheek as I looked to the floor once more in shame.
I fought and worked for Jakub and Katarzyna. Now both were gone. And even if Jakub was still alive, he would be without a father too in this new world. Nothing was happy about this unceremonious end. My story was over, and so were the stories of my family, friends, and parents.
“F-family?” Henix finally hummed with a hint of shock. He then attempted to hide it with his monotone voice. I slowly and quietly sobbed to myself, cursing my weakness. “Tell me more.”
The other beasts in the room shuffled their feet and locked their gazes on me with a bit of anticipation. I was a bit confused by the reaction. How was saying they were my loved ones a game-changer? But, I didn’t pay much attention anyway, my mind was filled to the brim with the stone-cold fact that had haunted me since the beginning of my searches:
I was now alone.
“Wife and son. I-I don’t know where they are. I was searching for them both. Using your systems, I . . . before you summoned me here, I got a report. In it, Katarzyna, my wife of twenty-two years, is dead. My son . . .” I gave a miserable chuckle, “only God Almighty knows where he is now.”
I should have never cried. I should have never shown emotion, especially on this damn station. Emotional control was the most important here. These beasts were very organised and very honour-driven. Crying itself was probably considered treason. At this point, it was just another thing to add on to my list of present offences.
Everything was collapsing in front of me in quick succession.
Instead of scolding me though, Henix just looked at me and watched me fail at controlling my sobs. It gave me an odd feeling that he was just tacitly judging me rather than chastising me verbally. The other beasts were the same, simply wagging their tails in thought or tilting their heads. It unnerved me a bit, but I was too busy internally cursing myself to care about it.
After what felt like my whole tour in Bolshevik Russia, Henix gave a low growl and a wag of his bushy back tail with the words of his sentencing response pushing against his fangs. The fate waiting for me was only a second away, and with that one growl, I’d be done for. What a fool I was to trust any of these pigs!
“I’m sorry about your predicament,” he spoke slowly. “When we saw the crimes of your ‘Nazis’ it became one of the major reasons why we intervened on this damn planet in the first place.”
What a lie. My brain cackled nonchalantly. They’re doing the same things as the Nazis; Although this time, it was all of us who were suffering from it.
Rolling my eyes, I saw through the bullshit. They were no different.
Scraping at his slick and futuristic desk in ponderous thinking, Henix refocused his pristine and steely blue eyes on me, “What you did was unprofessional and highly dishonourable. Anyone who did such an offence would’ve been discharged or demoted with the snap of a maw.
He shook his head in another short pause as he formulated his next response. I hated the silence, I just wanted a “yes” or a “no” if I was to be shot or not. The aliens had a knack to be blunt, but also verbose. It didn’t make sense, but that’s how they worked. And boy did I hate it!
“But, I cannot even attempt to grasp the gravity of the situation you are dealing with,” he began again, snapping me from my thoughts.
I scowled with agitation and furrowed my brows, “Am I still being shot?”
“No,” the other Wenli interrupted with a sigh and a lick of his fangs. “But, we aren’t leaving you here either.”
My mind went berserk As if that was better! Leaving me alive at this point was punishment enough! Without this station, I’d have to scan all of Europe manually. It’d take the rest of my whole pathetic life to cover even half of Poland! Damn these beasts and damn their posturing!
“Well,” Henix thought, “I have an idea. Akvu?”
The Felsha stepped up from the group of beasts and bowed slightly, “Yes?”
“How about we send Commander Dunajski to be a part of the clearance teams?”
The Felsha slapped its tail against the floor in disdain, “Isn’t he under suspicion of connections?”
“I never saw it in him,” Henix replied. “He was hiding something? Yes. But I never expected resistance affiliations. He isn’t that type of soldier. Besides, I used the accusation to crack him, not actually charge him.”
“W-what is my punishment?” I interrupted with mounting impatience as I tapped my jackboot in annoyance. Talking about how they broke me wasn’t what I wanted to hear at the moment. What was important was my quest for my old life. I wanted my wife back, my son, my home, my country.
“So, the idea is,” Henix began with his hands raised in illustrative explanation, “we send you to Earth to root out the resistance pockets. Some random places like Roosiya, Anghipt, Brazza, Mixka, Cooba, and much more. But! There is also an ongoing search for a resistance network in Eirope.”
“Where?” I shot back with rejuvenated hope.
“Central Eirope,” Henix hummed with a grin. “Former human nations like Polna, Cjermaña, Nodorla, Belja, and Cnzecka.”
It took me a good second to decipher those names. What a mess of pronunciation for all of them they were. Since they were busy trying to wipe our uniqueness from us, the aliens had their own names for our old nations, just the same as how they put my Poland in an occupation zone called “Foije”. A stupid name. Now, they were just coming up with mispronounced names for the defunct nations of old Earth.
I absolutely loathed the name “Polna” because “Polska” was better in every way. But they were our conquerors, and they were the bastards who just sentenced me to scouring Europe for my own kind.
“Who’s under my command?” I sighed.
“Oh, just two dozen of every species in the Confederation,” Henix smiled.
“288? That’s kind of small,” I chuckled. “My all-Pole regiment in Britain was at least 1,000 strong.”
“You really think there’s only a dozen species in the Confederation?” Henix snickered. “No, there’s a good seventy. You really thought we sent all of our power across the galaxy to fight some small plucky band of primates? How adorable.”
That ticked me off, but since I didn’t want to bite the hand that spared me from a beheading, I kept my mouth zipped tight. My composure returned and I wiped the tears off with my sleeve as Henix talked with his other peers in their garbled choking that they called a “language”. My goals had shifted from not crying to not snickering as they conversed in the throat cancer they revered as an actual tongue to be spoken by someone.
“For now, you are dismissed,” Henix sighed. “I hereby remove you from your post. You will report to the bays for a debrief.”
“Can I bring my personal belongings?”
“No,” he replied coldly.
“Why?”
Henix squinted his eyes in anger, “Get there and don’t ask any more questions. You are still a disgraced officer and you will not be shown any more mercy from us.”
How reassuring, I scoffed to myself once more. These aliens were as blunt as wood! They might rival my old camp Oberkommando. Hell, they might as well be him!
Sighing, I pressed my hands against the smooth chair and shakily brought myself up again. With another stupid bow, I left while trembling in every limb. I was in a precarious position now. Anything that went wrong under my command, I would take the hit.
But, if it still gave me a chance to at least try and piece my old life back together;
Then I’d throw myself into it with an intrepid Polish spirit.
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