Thank you for this universe!
And many thanks to for being a full co-writer on this project!
Kaeden and Vichee belongs to and I thank them so much for working with us! It was an honor!
Sven belongs to Bjorn the Copper Paladin from Discord. I hope to do more with them in the future, and have tons of fun!
And don’t you worry about that final in the title! We have some news at the end!
[First]- [Prev]- {Next Story!!}

{Is the reason that everything happened to Tarlim in the first place?}

{Only up to the ramps, mostly. Trying to impress upon people the importance of accessibility for those with extenuating circumstances. At least according to the records I have access to.}

{The average person knows as much about his friends as they do about Mike Collins.}
<...Who?>
{Exactly. 20th century human spaceman, was there for their first lunar landing. Didn’t get to put boots on the ground, and nobody remembers his name now.}

{Hell, I didn’t even know about him until I put in a search query of niche historical figures just to give you an example. Yeesh…}

(Program Selected.)
(Resume Selected Media? [Y])
(Playing…)
Archived Closed Circuit Security Video - Establishment: Exterminator’s Office - Dawn Creek Division - Subbasement - Date Recorded (ST): OCT 31, 2136 - Timeframe (ST): 11:42 - 11:45
The parking bay is silent. Vans are parked neatly in their spots which frame the hallway to the armory and fuel storage for the camera. A ding is heard and something moves in the hallway. Five fully suited Venlil and a Zurulian step out of an elevator and run towards a van. The sound of a door slamming open comes from the hall roughly 6 seconds later. A stream of Exterminators pour out into the hall from the stairwell.
Their voices are indecipherable as they speak over each other. A Sulian runs into the armory and reappears with a huge flamer tank on their back. Another Zurulian can be seen with an extinguisher tank, but a Venlil bleats at them and tosses it aside. They drag the quadrupedal alien quickly into the parking garage before physically throwing them into the back of a van.
From the back of the hallway, a fluid can be seen spreading across the ground. A trio of Venlil back out of a room while holding their flamers up. They are unlit, instead spewing fuel out of their nozzles. The trio twirl around in an overly animated manner as they walk down the hall to the parking garage. A van pulls out of its spot with windows down so the passengers could let out a cheer.
A black-suited Venlil runs up to the spraying trio while waving their arms to get them out into the garage. The microphone just barely manages to catch him saying, “We need to save some for the predators!” One of the other Venlil replies, “Yes sir, Mafchi!” A short flurry of curses is heard as the gathered exterminators pile into the three other visible vans. Two of the vans speed out of the garage, forcing some other Venlil exterminators to dive out of the way in the process.
The black-suited Mafchi picks up a fuel canister that had been dropped and twists off its cap. He slings it under his shoulder and pours a line of fuel. He marches straight to the final van and hops up into the open rear. The van backs itself up to turn out of the garage. The fuel canister clatters to the ground as it pulls away. Before it clears the view of the camera, the Black-suited Venlil is seen standing in its open back. He is holding what appears to be a flare gun.
The flare sails through the air shortly after the van leaves the frame and impacts the ground. It bounces and rolls until it touches the fuel and ignites it in an instant. A small wall of fire proceeds down the provided trail into the hallway, igniting more fuel as time passes. The hallway is quickly engulfed in vividly red fire. Thick black smoke begins to pour out into the garage as the fire inches closer to the primary fuel tank.
Movement can be seen in the hallway between the flickering flames. The silver form of a Venlil Exterminator is seen rushing out of the stairwell and fighting to head towards the fuel storage room. Before they reach, a white flash fills the screen. The feed goes dead, the error code consistent with electrical interruption.
(Specified Media Concluded.)

{Who was what? Mafchi?}

{Hmmm, there aren’t any tags embedded for them. The suits do a rather good job at making the officers anonymous. Let me see…oh.}

{The, uh… the employment records for that Office were…terminated.}

{It looks like…yes, here. Record wipe in 2497. Media with less than 1 bistandannual visit were removed to save space on the university’s central server. It’s…they’re gone, gone gone.}

{Maybe, but that’ll do us no good if we don’t know their name. And because of the chaos of that incident, nobody has been able to accurately reconstruct where every individual was in that office. We’d have to already know who they were to find them.}
<...I guess that’s another person I’ll have to remember then, huh?>
{...Guess so. Speaking of remembering, perhaps you should check out Tarlim’s view again? Seeing how we were just talking about him.}
<...Sure. At least people remember his name, right?>
(Command: [exitprogram])
(Are you sure? [Y])
…
{-Program Selected-}
{-Restart From Last Playback Point? Y/(N)-}
{-[USERID-11229KMD]: procViewHist -}
{-Retrieving Transcription Viewing History…-}
{-List Retrieved - Select Desired Subject: (Tarlim)-}
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Memory Transcription Subject: Tarlim, the Venbig. Date [Standardized Human Time] October 31st, 2136
No matter how much Sven and Anso griped about it, having them leave and return with the trailer was a great idea. The humans who had gone with them the first time were, to my dismay, excited to try and ride in the back. I had at least been able to impress on those four that I couldn’t let anyone else ride like that, and that they were to help with rigging a trailer with some seats.
I had to admit; they did a good job!
Several couches sat bolted to the floor of the covered trailer and even had some ropes that could be hooked across the armrests as impromptu belts. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it would work as well as any bus or short train ride! Certainly superior to jumping in the bed of a truck.
I strode out into the parking road and swayed my ears to greet Anso. Sven had stayed behind here to meet with the humans and entertain the kids, a job which he was slightly less unenthusiastic about compared to last time. “Greetings, Anso! Have you made the necessary preparations for the humans to leave with you?”
The Yotul hopped out of the truck bed and bounced to me. “We have! I have to say those humans were great workers to have helped get this whipped up so quickly! I hope Sven has been behaving himself?”
I let my tail wag behind me remembering my last glimpse of him. He should really secure his sheath straps! “He has! Been entertaining the refugees while I made sure they all had their belongings ready to go. Come on inside, let’s go gather them.”
I guided him with a wave of my arm as we turned back to the door. To be truthful, I hadn’t expected Sven to win the humans over as quickly as he did. Needless to say, his primitive attire seemed to spark joy within them, a joy sorely needed amidst the sadness of recency.
As we entered the building I noticed something, or rather, the lack of something. When I had exited only a few [minutes] prior, the building had been full of life and noise. Now, it was almost dead quiet, save for the sounds of a holovision coming from the lobby. Rather heated sounds, at that.
“I didn’t think it was already main rest claw,” Anso mused as he, too, recognized the aggravated voices coming from the lobby. “And what are they watching in there? Sounds…angry.”
“Yeah…” I trailed off as I followed the noises. As I approached the lobby, the sound of what I assumed was a Gojid yelling. “You know nothing about my family. TALK, JUST FUCKING TALK, NOW!” My ears pinned back at the foul language at play, hoping that Sven and the children were somewhere else.
As I entered the room, I saw that I was only half right. The children were thankfully nowhere to be found, but Sven was obviously present, as was most of the facility staff. I was about to ask what was going on before another voice drew my attention to the holovision, the same as everyone else. The voice of none other than Chief Nikonus.
“There were three of us who laid out the groundwork for the Federation. When Kolshian explorers came in contact with the Farsul, more than a thousand years ago, the galaxy was young. We were the first in this sector to escape our gravity well. You know about the founding of this institution, but I reiterate it just in case.”
“The Krakotl were the third,” another voice piped up from behind the camera. I thought it might’ve been another Gojid, but the voice was far too breathy. Harchen, maybe? I wasn’t given a chance to consider it further as Nikonus continued. “Yes, they were a problem from the start; aggressive, disagreeable. We tried to identify the problem, and why they were so ill-equipped for spacefaring.”
“We learned they were scavengers, who would occasionally go for fish as well.”
His next line was rendered inaudible by the shocked gasps of both the refugees and residents in the room. I was no different, drawing in a sharp breath at the abrupt admission. I remembered that Arvi had said some aliens were revealed to have eaten meat in the past, but was this the way it was decided to be revealed? With such abject callousness?
Nikonus continued to speak, looking not just proud, but smug with his words. He went on about how the Federation had saved these aliens with their manipulations, but the entirety of his body language seemed to indicate he reveled in how devastating this information would be to the people he was speaking to. How they manipulated an entire culture, a RELIGION!
What if they did the same to ours?
That horrifying thought struck through my mind like a derailing train. I had relied upon the Tenets in some of my darkest moments. Found comfort in them when there was none elsewhere to be found. To have such a comfort revealed as a lie in its entirety, used only for some other group to control you…
The voice of Nikonus hit my ears again. “Oh Sovlin, I already told you. For the small minority of species who don’t find herbivory alone, we teach them the right way. Doesn’t the religion against predators sound familiar?”
The Kolshian was insufferably proud of those words. There was no doubt in my mind now; this was mocking. Mocking a Gojid for following The Protector. For being a predator. For being different, but expecting to still be treated as a person. The Gojid were predators, they couldn’t help it, and they were already being mocked for it.
What might happen to all the other species?
I shifted my focus away from the screen to the crowd, searching for one in particular. Vichee, a Krakotl already so different from everyone else, and now my concerns for them were multiplied with every word that fell from Nikonus’ mouth. Were they okay? They had come in here to see Sven, I had seen them. Where are-
I spotted Kaeden in the corner of the room. Next to him, slumped against the wall, was Vichee. The dual colored Krakotl’s eyes were glazed over as they stared at nothing. I strode over quickly, my instincts wanting to comfort them. Kaeden was simply standing there, it was confusing that he didn’t seem to be comforting Vichee at all. As I got closer, their head tilted up to me, regarding me with an unfocused eye.
“He was right.” They said quietly. My implant almost didn’t pick it up over the sounds of the lobby. “Kaeden had asked me soon after our first meeting if Krakotl had once been meat eaters. Said it was the shape of our beaks. ‘More suited to capturing small wriggling prey than filtering algae’. He told me. I nearly flew away right then… If I had, I would have been alone with this news.”I listened, kneeling down to be closer to their level. “You’re not alone, your herd is here. Right Kaeden?”
He looked over at me and nodded. “Vichee was there with me when Earth was attacked. I’m here for them now. Kaabra and Venik are… together, elsewhere at the moment. But they will be here too.”
I flicked my ears in understanding. “Then I hope they may help in hugging Vichee until their tears are dry.” I turned an eye to Vichee. “Please, I just want you to know that you are still you. What your body does has no effect on your personhood.”
Vichee still sat, their mind still likely whirling with the new information. They lifted their differently colored wings. “I’m well aware. This lesson I already learned. But thank you, I understand what you mean.” Kaeden nodded slowly and Vichee returned to their thoughts.
“There’s going to be trouble soon, Tarlim,” Kaeden stated gravely. “News like this? Nothing good will come of it. I can already tell this won’t go over well. Keep your eyes open.”
As if in response to his words, the sound of clanking metal hits my ears. They shoot up, pivoting to locate its source. There, dashing towards the door, was the armored figure of Sven. I didn’t know him enough to know how this broadcast would affect him, but running was never the best sign. I flicked my ears goodbye to my friends and rose, following after the metal man. In my periphery, I saw the television screen had shifted to show Rolem moving onto the stage. I would have to miss whatever it was he had to say, so ducked through the doors and continued to follow the sound of metal.
As I exited, I saw that I wasn’t the only one to see Sven’s actions. Anso was bounding behind him, shouting something I couldn’t hear. Sven didn’t seem to either as he kept running, but his gait wasn’t one of fear. He looked purposeful, sprinting in a straight line. A line pointed right towards-
Towards the observing Exterminator Van.
The metal Venlil didn’t even hesitate at the presence of the fence. He leapt up in a display of strength and agility, vaulting over the barrier and continuing his beeline into the van. It was like phased through the doors with how fast he moved. There were sounds of commotion that followed his entry, and soon two Exterminators fell out of the van. One Venlil…and one Krakotl. I wonder how Kalek is taking things.
I, too, cleared the fence with only a high step and reached the van, peering in to see Sven at the controls. “Sven! What are you doing?” I asked, the Krakotl officer shivering on the ground in my periphery.
“They got my girl!” He huffed, “She’s a Gojid, they got her, I can’t let them do anything worse to her!” He tried to activate the vehicle to no avail, but his words brought up something that I hadn’t thought much over. I remember hearing about temporary emplacements that were being set up. Paly had texted me about exterminators bringing people there. Her too. And that would mean-
-THOOOOOOOMMMMM-
The wind hit me like a truck and rocked the van I was standing next to. Sven even stopped trying to fiddle with the controls to see what had just happened. In the distance, near the center of town, an enormous black cloud rose into the air, the vestiges of fire still burning in the suspended embers. I couldn’t look away from it as my mind raced with horrible possibilities as my mind tripped over itself trying to concoct a plan of action.
I wasn’t given long to think before the radio in the van crackled to life, startling both Sven and myself. “Attention all True Exterminators! The truth has come out about the taint in our midst! For too long we have lived with its danger in our presence! If any of you still hold the safety of The Herd in your hearts, come join us so we may burn ALL the predator taint from this District! Rendezvous at Vulen’s apartment complex, we shall start our cleansing there!”
The name of one of my landlords sparked familiarity in my mind. They had been working to build a series of new apartments to add to his old, and if I remembered, had agreed to house the Gojid refugees. The Gojid! Paly was housed with them!!
In an instant, I reached into the van and grabbed Sven by the arm. He tried to pull away, but my grip was too strong. “Sven! They’re gonna kill the Gojid! They’re gonna burn Paly!”
He finally managed to shake himself free as my paws became jittery from stress. “I gotta save my girlfriend! She’s in a facility! I gotta save her!”
“But they’re gonna burn people here!” I protested, “we have to do something! We need- We need People who can fight them! Kaeden! I need to get Kaeden! We can save them!”
I pulled myself away from the van and spotted Anso nearby. He must have had to go through the gate, but this was good timing. I pointed a claw at him. “Do Not Let Him drive off before I get back!”
I didn’t give him, nor the Exterminators who had recovered from their shock, time to ask questions. Paly was in danger, as were who knew how many others. I faintly heard my data pad chime from within my shoulder bag, the signal my heart was beating too fast, but I couldn’t deal with it right now. I could get the heart rate under control during the drive. Right now I needed Kaeden, he knew how to fight! How to save people when others were trying to kill them!
My paws guided me and I was back in the cafeteria before I knew it. Some of the crowd had dissipated, but Kaeden and Vichee were still in the same corner I had left them in, but with their Venlil friends now joined. Without leaving time for protest, I grabbed Kaeden’s arm and pulled him away. I heard Vichee squawk behind me, but I was in too much of a hurry. I can’t let her get hurt. I Won’t.
Kaeden started to slap my arm as I dragged the soldier across the lobby. “Tarlim! What the fuck are you doing?? What’s going on?”
“No time, they’re going to burn everyone,” I breathlessly said as I burst the facility doors open to get him to the van.
“What? Who?” Kaeden questioned, still resisting my pull. I could hear a tinge of worry in his voice, and I knew he would understand. Anso looked back from his position as he heard my approach, and upon seeing me dragging Kaeden along, he grew visibly concerned.
“On the radio, something about True Exterminators,” I attempted to explain to him as we neared the gate doors. This time, I simply spread them apart with my free paw, metal screeching against itself as the gate was forced open. “They’re going to burn every cured species they can find, and That Means Paly. I Won’t Let Them.”
Kaeden had stopped struggling as I explained the bare essentials to him, and once we approached the van, he finally had enough sense to ask the right questions. “So what exactly is the plan to stop them? We’re strong, sure, I could probably take most of them. But just two of us against a wall of those flamers?”
“Not two,” I corrected, letting go of his arm and throwing open the back doors of the van. Still seated in the drivers side was Sven, who looked back once he heard me permit entrance into the back. “We have him too.”
“Wh- the LARPer??” Kaeden asked incredulously. I wasn’t familiar with the term he used, but his tone told us all we needed to know. Sven’s eyes narrowed at the perceived insult, but Kaeden continued. “Do either of you have any formal military training?? Rushing down there is only going to get you both killed along with the others! For fucks sake, slow down! We need a plan!”
“T-There won’t be t-time f-for one,” a voice peeped in from behind us. We all turned to face the source, and we found it was the Venlil Exterminator. They recoiled under the sudden gaze of our entire party, but they managed to continue. “I-I recognized the v-voice. It w-was one of the n-new recruits. They m-might as well be Y-Yulpa. If you w-want to stop them, it’s now or n-never.”
We all stared at them for a moment in disbelief that they’d willingly hand over that information to us. They were Exterminators, weren’t they? They should be allied with the voice on the radio! Kaeden, after considering the information, gave voice to my confusion. “And why are you telling us this? You’re an exterminator, shouldn’t you be trying to help them?”
“M-My husband is the Krakotl that was in the van with me!” They yelled back, stamping their footpaw on the ground in agitation. “I-I don’t care what his ancestors did a t-thousand years ago, I will not stand for those zealots burning who knows how many people! We’re not all the same, h-human!”
I was taken aback by their words. I had given up hope that there were any redeemable souls amongst the ranks of those silver-suited brahkasses, but living proof of the contrary stood before us. Their breathing was only matched by mine as my pad continued to chime in my pack. Maybe there’s hope after all.
Kaeden started frantically looking all around, his focused gaze falling on the facility, the exterminator in front of us, and the rising smoke in the distance. After a moment's hesitation, he growled to himself and shook his head. “Fine! Fucking- if you want to prove you’re different, you and your partner stand guard at the gate! They’ll probably try to send a division here, so keep on guard! And for the love of God, go ask for help if that happens!”
My tail wagged behind me as I interpreted what that meant. “So you’ll help us, Kaeden?”
He paused for a second, an agonizing second as he fully took in the situation in his mind. But ultimately, he nodded. “Let’s go, we can figure things out along the way.”
Seizing the moment, Anso quickly jumped into the van and pushed Sven out of the driver's seat, much to their visible frustration. Kaeden quickly hopped into the passenger seat, leaving me with the problem of finding a space that would fit me. I stepped over to the back of the van and threw the doors open.
The flamers and their fuel tanks were useless to us, easy to toss all three sets out onto the ground behind me. I made sure that the flamers were disabled first, of course. Just had to snap the pilot lighters and slice a hose with my claw. Even if these two said they weren’t like these “True Exterminators” I didn’t trust them one bit. I crawled inside the cramped vehicle and wiggled myself to close the doors behind me.
As I got myself settled, I watched as the Venlil Exterminator started to inspect the destroyed remains of their weapons. I squinted a glare at them and positioned myself so they couldn’t enter with me. “You two aren’t coming,” I hissed. “You know why you’re not. Try anything with the humans, and they will stop you.”
I slammed the doors shut as their expressions fell, just in time for Anso to get the van into gear. I curled myself up against the wall of the van, watching out the back window as we sped down the road. We were on our way now. On our way to save Paly and all the people gathered because their ancestors ate meat. My heart hammered in my chest, but I would need to control it for what we were about to do. I needed to focus. I needed to breathe. I needed to be calm.
Focus. Breathe. Calm
Focus.
Breathe.
Calm…
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Memory Transcription Subject: Sol-Vah, Fleeing Predator. Date [Standardized Human Time] October 31st, 2136
My legs couldn’t carry me anymore. I had to keep going, but I didn’t have the strength. My pants became wheezes as my body struggled to keep up with the physical exertion of running almost halfway through town. I hadn’t even looked up before now, at least with eyes not blinded by tears. The pain of Mute’s rejection still stung in my soul, a pain so visceral it threatened to rip me apart worse than any Arxur. Protector, what did I do to deserve this? Is there even a Protector, or did the Federation just- just make that up?
I didn’t have time to think about that now, I needed to get to the office. From what little I caught of the broadcast, Nikonus had said they saved us before. I knew what it likely was, but…I was desperate. I just wanted to go back home and have him embrace me like he did before. The safety and love I had felt from him was still fresh in my mind, and if there was any chance I had to get it back?
I’ll happily take it.
As I approached the office, however, something seemed off. I could smell soot in the air, but not the kind of soot that came from our flamers. This was- was…dirtier smelling, as if the fuel had been impure. Upon looking up, however, I saw something that made my stomach drop. A huge plume of smoke, billowing up into the sky. It shadowed the sun itself with its immensity and hate. Did the Exterminators burn more drugs? Or…or…
I felt a renewed vigor as I started to run towards the plume, hoping against hope that I was wrong. As soon as I turned the corner, though, my worst fears were realized. Where the office once stood now sat a burning stack of glorified rubble, every single window in sight shattered and multiple holes in the outer walls. The building was split, it was as if a giant knife had come down and sloppily sliced off its front half to spill flaming debris everywhere.
I stood in front of the building I had once called my home, surrounded by screams and the awful sound of flames roaring. I knew now there was no hope of salvation, no way this could ever be undone. I would never be able to go back to the way things were, never feel the happiness I had for that brief time. I was doomed to this life, abandoned by my love, and forced to live as an abomination devoid of a home.
I suppose that’s all a predator like me deserves.
[First]- [Prev]- {Next Story!!}
You read it right: This is going to be the final chapter of "Of Giants and Journalists." With the conclusion of Sharnet and Vekna's adventure, we will now take the time to show how this announcement has affected our characters and the galaxy at large. We're excited to announce our new series, Nature of a Giant: Aftermath! This series will not be quite as in-depth temporally as Of Giants and Journalists was, mainly because not as much will be happening in as short of a time. Rest assured, though, there will still be plenty of action across the board! You just won't have to deal with over half the story only covering a week of time!
In that vein, we are also excited to announce we are working on another bonus series, one that was teased a long time ago, Venric Lawven: Legal Legend! It will be filling the gap for content while we work on the first few chapters of Aftermath to make sure the scenes are as quality as they deserve, but will have a reduced upload schedule to once a week to accommodate for writing two series at once. On behalf of both of myself and , we'd like to thank all of our readers for sticking with us on this journey. It's hard to believe this series has been going on for over a year in one form or another, but I wouldn't have it any other way! Thank you all again for your continued support, and we look forward to seeing you again with Legal Legends! And then...
The Aftermath!!

To my colleagues at the Technomagical University of Valencia,
It is with great honor and gratitude that I dedicate these words to the revered institution that has been my intellectual home for decades. As Professor Thaddeus Rune, I have had the privilege of exploring the vast domains of thaumaturgy and materials sciences, unraveling the mysteries of the universe through the lens of magic and science.
Since the dawn of my academic career, the Technomagical University has been my source of inspiration and intellectual refuge, providing me with a conducive environment for the flourishing of the mind and spirit. Here, I have found not only knowledge but also camaraderie and collaboration, fundamental pillars on the path to understanding the secrets of the cosmos.
In this essay, I wish to pay tribute not only to this venerable institution but also to my esteemed friend and research colleague, the eminent arcanologist and Dr. Cornelius Darkwood. Together, we have shared countless hours of research, exploring the boundaries of magic and science with unwavering passion and an insatiable thirst for discovery.
May these words serve as a testimony of my deep appreciation for the Technomagical University of Valencia and for the invaluable friendship and collaboration I have found in Dr. Cornelius Darkwood. May our joint efforts continue to illuminate the darkest corners of knowledge, for the benefit of humanity and future generations.
With sincere affection and gratitude,
Professor Thaddeus Rune
____

Introduction

Thaumaturgy, the ancient discipline that merges magic and science, has long been a fascinating and challenging field of study. In our ongoing effort to expand the boundaries of knowledge and thaumic practice, we are faced with the challenge of finding and synthesizing materials that are not only abundant but also rich in crucial magical aspects. In this essay, we will explore two such materials: pyrite and icosahedrite, and examine their potential in the creation of new alloys and thaumic artifacts.
Pyrite, known for its composition of iron sulfide (FeS2), has long been a cornerstone in thaumic practice. The presence of sulfur and iron in its crystalline structure makes it an ideal source of the ignis, terra, and metallum aspects. Additionally, its perfect cubic crystals offer a generous dose of the ordo aspect, adding an additional level of complexity to its thaumic utility.
However, the growing scarcity of natural pyrite crystals, specially those with cubic shapes, due to its extensive use in the crafting of pyrotic magical alloys and power objects, poses a significant challenge for modern thaumaturges. It is imperative that we explore viable alternatives for obtaining this material.
We must also highlight the importance of emerging materials such as icosahedrite. Icosahedrite, recently discovered and of meteoric origin, exhibits a unique chemical composition of aluminum, copper, and iron (Al63Cu24Fe13). Although its availability is limited and its cost high, its potential in thaumaturgy is extraordinary. In addition to being an excellent source of the metallum and permutatio aspects, the true marvel of icosahedrite lies in its emerging aspects, especially the rare alienus aspect.
This alienus aspect, with its exotic and mysterious qualities, offers a vast field of possibilities in the manufacturing of quantum devices, metamagic contraptions, and artifacts for metric manipulation of space-time. Furthermore, icosahedrite infused with praecantatio essence can give rise to powerful dodecahedrites, with potential applications in the production of high-density magical batteries, wands and scepters of great power, enhanced arcane weapons, and antimagic ammunition.
In conclusion, both pyrite and icosahedrite represent valuable contributions to the thaumic arsenal. Their unique properties and potential in the creation of new alloys and artifacts urge us to explore more economical and scalable production methods.

Summary

Throughout my research in the field of thaumaturgy and materials sciences, I have conducted a series of experiments aimed at synthesizing high-quality materials for application in thaumic practice. These experiments have resulted in the development of innovative synthesis methods, which have been detailed and documented in a report attached to this essay.
In this essay, however, my goal is to provide a concise and accessible summary of the synthesis methods employed, as well as the results obtained. While the attached report contains specific technical details and additional experimental data, here I will focus on presenting an overview of the procedures used and their implications in the context of contemporary thaumaturgy.
It is my hope that this summary provides a clear and practical understanding of the synthesis methods employed, as well as their relevance to research and thaumic practice. For those interested in delving deeper into the technical and experimental details, I refer to the attached report for further information and detailed insights.

Method of synthesis for Pyrite cubes

The process of synthesizing high-quality pyrite involves several meticulous steps to ensure the formation of cubic pyrite crystals with optimal perfection and purity. Below is a summary of the main steps of the method:

1. Preparation of the reactive mixture: The process begins with the preparation of a stoichiometrically calculated mixture of sulfur and iron. 32.06 grams of sulfur and 55.84 grams of iron, both finely powdered, are carefully weighed and mixed.
2. Formation of iron sulfide (FeS2): The sulfur-iron mixture is placed in a crucible and ignited to initiate the reaction and form iron sulfide (FeS2).
3. Grinding and dissolution: Once the iron sulfide is formed, the product is finely ground. Subsequently, the resulting iron bisulfide is dissolved in a eutectic mixture of sodium, potassium, calcium, and magnesium chloride salts. The exact proportions of these salts and specific temperatures are detailed in the attached report.
4. Crystallization and controlled cooling: The dissolved mixture is placed in a crucible inside a glass annealing furnace for slow controlled cooling. This process allows pyrite crystals to form and crystallize in an orderly and uniform manner.
5. Extraction and selection of crystals: Once the mixture has cooled and fully crystallized, the salt block is broken to extract and separate the precipitated pyrite crystals. Crystals with the most perfect cubic shapes are selected for use as seed crystals for growing larger crystals.
6. Process refinement: Throughout the experimentation, refinements were made to the process to improve the quality and perfection of the pyrite crystals. These refinements are detailed in the attached report.
7. Results: After a series of experiments and adjustments, a pyrite cube measuring 3.24 cm on each side was successfully grown, representing a significant success in the synthesis of high-quality pyrite.

This method of pyrite synthesis offers an effective route to obtaining cubic pyrite crystals with optimal thaumic properties, opening up new possibilities in the research and application of this material in contemporary thaumaturgy.

Method of synthesis for Icosahedrite dodecahedrons

The synthesis process of icosahedrite dodecahedrons involves a series of meticulous steps to cultivate polycrystalline crystals with desirable thaumic properties. Below is a summary of the main steps of the method:

1. Preparation of the metal mixture: The process begins with the pre-fusion and mixing of a finely powdered combination of 21.51 grams of aluminum, 19.305 grams of copper, and 9.185 grams of iron, in a controlled argon atmosphere. The mixture is carefully conducted to ensure a uniform distribution of the elements.
2. Refusion and controlled cooling: The metal mixture undergoes a refusion process to ensure complete melting of the components. Once melted, the mixture is allowed to cool within a crucible placed in a glass annealing furnace, ensuring slow controlled cooling.
3. Addition of ordo aspect essence: During the cooling process, ordo aspect essence is added to accelerate and enhance crystallization. This addition helps promote the growth of desired dodecahedral quasicrystals and improve their quality and purity.
4. Formation of the polycrystalline metal matrix: As a result of the controlled cooling process and the addition of ordo aspect essence, a polycrystalline metal matrix is obtained containing a variety of crystals with different orientations and structures.
5. Extraction and selection of dodecahedrons: The polycrystalline metal matrix is carefully broken and fragmented to separate and extract perfectly formed and desired dodecahedral quasicrystals. Dodecahedrons with the most suitable shapes and thaumic properties are selected for use in thaumic applications.

Although the obtained icosahedrite dodecahedrons may be small in size, their successful formation represents a significant advancement in the synthesis of this highly promising material in thaumaturgy. This method provides a solid foundation for future research and applications in the field of contemporary thaumaturgy.
____

Request for acquisition of magical materials for Dodecahedrite research

Given the success of the icosahedrite synthesis process, I am attaching the reason why I have requested a budget. Although the letter sent details the reasons better, I have chosen to include an excerpt in this essay for transparency purposes.
In order to advance our thaumic research and reduce future costs, I propose an innovative strategy involving the acquisition of key magical materials for the manufacture of dodecahedrites. These materials, greatwood and thaumite, are crucial for extracting large quantities of praecantatio essence, an essential component in the successful production of dodecahedrites.
Greatwood and thaumite, with their high concentration of praecantatio essence, will allow us to obtain the necessary raw materials to manufacture dodecahedrites efficiently and economically. These dodecahedrites, combined with the icosahedrite quasicrystals we have successfully synthesized, will be used in future research on advanced thaumic applications.
By acquiring these materials in large quantities, we can not only reduce the production costs of dodecahedrites but also ensure a constant and sufficient supply for our thaumic research projects. Additionally, it will enable us to conduct large-scale experiments and explore the full thaumic potential of dodecahedrites in various areas of study.
Therefore, I respectfully request the University of Tecnomagic of Valencia to consider allocating a budget for the acquisition of greatwood and thaumite. This strategic investment will allow us to advance more rapidly in our thaumic research and achieve new milestones in the field of contemporary thaumaturgy.
I am available to provide any additional information that may be necessary and that I am authorized to provide.
Sincerely,
Professor Thaddeus Rune

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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

Advanced Lesson Plan: In-Depth Exploration of Onomatopoeia
Objective: Honors students will delve deeply into the concept of onomatopoeia, examining its literary, linguistic, and cultural significance. They will analyze sophisticated examples, engage in critical discussions, and create advanced onomatopoeic expressions.
Course Level: University Honors Seminar
Duration: 2 weeks (8 sessions)
Materials: 1. Academic articles on onomatopoeia 2. Literary works with nuanced use of onomatopoeia 3. Multimedia resources (videos, audio clips) 4. Whiteboard and markers 5. Chart paper, markers, and post-it notes 6. Laptops or tablets for research
Session 1: Introduction to Advanced Onomatopoeia Studies (60 minutes)

• Briefly review basic onomatopoeia concepts to ensure a common understanding.
  
• Discuss scholarly articles on the linguistic and literary aspects of onomatopoeia.
  
• Analyze examples of sophisticated onomatopoeia in classic and contemporary literature.
  

Session 2: Cross-Cultural Examination of Onomatopoeia (60 minutes)

• Explore onomatopoeic expressions in different languages.
  
• Discuss cultural variations and the impact on meaning.
  
• Group activity: analyze onomatopoeic words from various cultures and present findings.
  

Session 3: The Psychology of Onomatopoeia (60 minutes)

• Discuss the psychological effects of onomatopoeic words on readers or listeners.
  
• Analyze studies on the neurological response to onomatopoeia.
  
• Group discussion: share personal responses to specific onomatopoeic words.
  

Session 4: Onomatopoeia in Technical Writing and Science (75 minutes)

• Explore the use of onomatopoeia in technical and scientific literature.
  
• Discuss how onomatopoeia can enhance communication in specialized fields.
  
• Case study: analyze technical documents with and without onomatopoeia.
  

Session 5: Advanced Literary Analysis (75 minutes)

• Analyze onomatopoeia in selected complex literary works.
  
• Discuss how authors use onomatopoeic elements for symbolism and thematic purposes.
  
• Small group analysis: dissect an excerpt from a challenging text.
  

Session 6: Student-led Discussions and Presentations (90 minutes)

• Assign students specific onomatopoeia-related topics for research and presentation.
  
• Conduct mini-lectures or discussions led by students on their assigned topics.
  
• Encourage critical analysis and connections to other academic disciplines.
  

Session 7: Creative Expression Through Onomatopoeia (90 minutes)

• Explore avant-garde uses of onomatopoeia in creative writing.
  
• Workshop: students create experimental onomatopoeic compositions.
  
• Share and discuss the artistic and literary implications of their creations.
  

Session 8: Culminating Project and Reflection (120 minutes)

• Individual or group projects: in-depth analysis of a specific aspect of onomatopoeia.
• Presentations and peer review.
  
• Class reflection: connect newfound knowledge to broader linguistic and literary themes.
  

Assessment Criteria:

• Active participation in discussions and presentations.
  
• Critical analysis in written reflections.
  
• Depth of understanding demonstrated in the culminating project.
  
• Integration of onomatopoeia knowledge into broader academic discourse.
  

Supervisory Management and Program Analyst

HQ-24-ST-12379453-CWO

Grade: GS-15

Headquarters, NASA

You will serve as a Supervisory Program Analyst in the Resource Management Division within the Science Mission Directorate (SMD) at NASA Headquarters. In this position, you will oversee analysts in the execution and formulation of SMD's budget and provide expert analysis to ensure the effective use of resources in the accomplishment of SMD's strategic objectives.

Electrical Engineer (Direct Hire)

GSFC-24-DE-12402255-JM

Grade: GS-12/13

Goddard Space Flight Center

You will serve as an Electrical Engineer managing Facilities Engineering Projects assigned to the Engineering Branch of the Facilities Management Division within the Management Operations Directorate.

Aerospace Engineer, AST, Aerospace Flight Systems (Direct Hire)

KSC-24-DE-12412224-JL

Grade: GS-13

John F. Kennedy Space Center

The position of Aerospace Engineer, AST, Aerospace Flight Systems, in the Flight Dynamics Branch of the NASA Launch Services Program, requires experience in software coding practices for commercial launch vehicle providers and applicable industry and government software standards. These skills are employed to support requirements development/verification, independent assessment and analysis, process monitoring, and technical interchanges with launch service providers and spacecraft customers.

Aerospace Engineer, AST, Flight Systems Test (Direct Hire)

LaRC-24-DE-12415995-JL

Grade: GS-14

Langley Research Center

You will serve as the Center Range Flight Safety Lead assigned to the Uninhabited Aerial Systems (UAS) Operations Office of the Research Services Directorate overseeing the safety of the City Environment Range Testing for Autonomous Integrated Navigation (CERTAIN) at the Center and for other UAS locations where NASA conducts UAS flight operations.

Administrative Specialist (Direct Hire)

LaRC-24-DE-12416464-ST

Grade: GS-11

Langley Research Center

As an Administrative Specialist supporting the Administrative Support and Analysis Branch (ASAB), you will be responsible for a wide variety of analytical, human resources, administrative, and associated management support services for the organization(s) to which assigned, and you will conduct analytical studies requiring the identification and resolution of issues and problems of administrative support functions.

General Engineer, AST, Technical Management (Direct Hire)

JSC-24-DE-12412827-JM

Grade: GS-14

Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center

You will serve as a Technical Management Engineer advising on, coordinating, monitoring, maintaining surveillance over, supervising and/or performing a variety of technical managerial functions of aerospace and aeronautical research, development, design, test, and operations efforts.

Aerospace Engineer, AST, Aerothermodynamics

KSC-24-IMP-12413593-SL

Grade: GS-14

John F. Kennedy Space Center

As the fluids analysis technical lead in the mission analysis division of the Launch Services Program you will lead a team of highly technical fluid dynamics engineers to perform a variety of analyses with the goal of ensuring mission success for NASA's missions. You will be responsible for the timely completion of fluid dynamics related analyses and actions.

Program Manager

HQ-24-IMP-12415817-RW

Grade: GS-15

Headquarters, NASA

As the Branch Chief for the Office of Diversity and Equal Opportunity (ODEO), Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, & Accessibility (DEIA) Branch, you will oversee and lead several core functions to include: 1) DEIA Program Management, Implementation, and Assessment; 2) Special Emphasis Programs and ERG Engagement; 3) DEIA Data Analytics and Reporting; 4) Diversity and Equal Opportunity Reports; 5) Reasonable Accommodation Program Coordination and Oversight.

Supervisory Equal Opportunity Specialist

HQ-24-IMP-12404389-SL

Grade: GS-15

Headquarters, NASA

The ODEO Branch Chief for the Equal Opportunity and Program Branch within the Policy, Programs, and Analytics Division, oversees and leads the program management of NASA's external compliance and adjudication programs, as well as policy and compliance functions of NASA's anti-harassment program.

Supervisory Financial Management Specialist (Direct Hire)

GSFC-24-DE-12417200-JK

Grade: GS-15

Goddard Space Flight Center

The Office of the Chief Financial Officer (OCFO) is seeking individuals to fill multiple positions as Directorate Resources Managers (DRM) and/or Deputy Project Managers for Resources (DPMR). These positions supervise and manage a staff of resources professionals who support projects at NASA. They serve as senior advisors to project/program/directorate leadership in all areas related to resources and business processes.

Research Chemical Engineer, AST, Aerospace Polymeric Materials (Direct Hire)

GRC-24-DE-12415642-CWO

Grade: GS-12/13

John Glenn Research Center at Lewis Field

As a Research Chemical Engineer with the Materials and Structures Division, Ceramic and Polymer Composites Branch, you will develop polymer-based materials for aerospace applications that support projects addressing both traditional NASA technology strengths and emerging materials for new applications, including thermoplastics development for exploration, advanced high-rate processes for polymers and polymer matrix composite through the understanding of material chemistry and process controls.

General Engineer, AST, Technical Management (Direct Hire)

JSC-24-DE-12407163-JK

Grade: GS-15

Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center

Selectee will serve as the Lead for the System Management Team within the Extravehicular Activity (EVA) and Human Surface Mobility (EHP) Systems Engineering and Integration (SE&I) office. You will be responsible for leading a matrixed team of system managers for systems that are cross-cutting across the EHP elements, such as communications, navigation, environments, power, logistics, etc.

Supervisory Information Technology Specialist (Direct Hire)

MSFC-24-DE-12417728-RW

Grade: GS-15

George C. Marshall Space Flight Center

As a Supervisory IT Specialist (Office Chief), within the Networks and Telecommunications Services (NaTS) Service Line, you will be responsible for establishing modernization policies, procedures, schedules, resources, and security of the systems that deliver IT services. You will manage a team of highly skilled specialists in integrating, operating, securing, and planning of enterprise and mission network systems.

Supervisory General Engineer (Direct Hire)

GSFC-24-DE-12415346-SF

Grade: GS-15

Goddard Space Flight Center

This position serves as Head of the Planning Office with immediate responsibility of directing, coordinating and reviewing the planning for the Center's construction, modification, maintenance, and repair activities at the Goddard Space Flight Center (GSFC). This Office plays the lead role in developing tangible justification and advocacy for design and construction funding from NASA Headquarters. The work involves the gathering and developing of requirements that define projects.

Mechanical Engineer (Direct Hire)

GSFC-24-DE-12414282-JM

Grade: GS-12/13

Goddard Space Flight Center

As a Mechanical Engineer with the Facilities Engineering Branch, you will serve as the junior Mechanical Engineer for all facilities at the Greenbelt campus of the Goddard Space Flight Center. You will support the Lead Mechanical Engineer and Engineering Branch Head in overseeing all campus mechanical system design and construction projects to include high and low pressure steam, chilled and domestic water, compressed air, HVAC systems, and specialty lab requirements.

Lead Budget Analyst (Direct Hire)

MSFC-24-DE-12415855-SL

Grade: GS-14

George C. Marshall Space Flight Center

As a lead Budget Analyst, assigned to the Office of Chief Financial Officer (OCFO), provides the overall planning, integration, expertise, and analysis of budget operations as well as all aspects of the Planning, Programming, Budgeting, and Execution (PPBE) to include the formulation, presentation, enactment and/or execution phases of the budgetary process. Is responsible to lead other analysts in the execution of their duties.

A lore post about the ASS-U setting. Mostly for my own recollection (mods hope this is fine)
The Universe
Almost all known life in the universe inhabits a large, noncontinuous region in the milky way, about 5000 light years in diameter known as the Life Belt. This belt is slowly, but constantly expanding, and the non inhabited pockets of star systems of this belt are slowly and constantly shrinking. Within this belt are around 500 known advanced sentient species, including humanity, and countless trillions of nonsentient life forms, from single celled entities to full fledged, complex multicellular organisms. Of those advanced species, approximately 300 are carbon based life forms.
Interstellar Politics
Humanity falls under the aegis of the Consortium, a loose coalition of 150-ish carbon based, mostly oxygen breathing species, often with some form of central nervous system. Political groupings of this sort are an implicit standard in the galaxy, as species will often together based on biochemistry and physiology, due to simpler (relative) ease of communication, and greater likelihood of psychological alignment. As a Consortium political scholar succinctly put it:
"It's a lot easier to have regular and meaningful diplomatic contact with a species where you can both understand what light is, and that 2000 degree temperatures environments are unpleasant, rather than trying it with a living rock that only senses gamma radiation and communicates by spraying molten iron at you."
This political grouping also allows fairly straightforward exchanges of technology and culture, not in the least of which are the Standard Technologies, and the All Systems Science University (ASS-U).
Standard Technologies
The Standard Technologies are technical capabilities developed and maintained jointly (though not necessarily equally) by all members of the Consortium, for the sake of the prosperity of its members. Akin to Europe's Airbus, they pool resources and technical capability to develop and refine capabilities in a way that would be cost prohibitive for any one member. These capabilities are currently:

• Universal translation technology.
  
• Faster than light travel and communication.
  
• The Consortium Information Grid.
  
• Computation technology.
  
• Nanofabrication.
  
• Nuclear fusion.
  

The nature of these technologies is considered synergistic. No practical Information Grid without Universal Translators or advanced computing. Virtually no FTL travel without fusion. And little highly advanced computing without nanofabrication. And no new knowledge without the Information Grid.
With these technologies being standardized and widely manufactured, the total resource cost of turning or keeping your civilization interstellar drops significantly in addition to allowing virtually every Consortium species to be effectively post scarcity in needs, if not in wants. Access to the Standard Technologies tends to be one of the greatest draws of entering the Consortium. However, this benefit also carries a catch.
Access to the Standard Technologies is regulated by the Standard Technologies Act, legislation which requires universal access to interstellar travel, in addition to universal access to the Standard Technologies themselves, without regard for national, ethnic, economic or class factionalism. Failure to provide this access, will result in access to the Standard Technologies and their updates being restricted, an action which may very well eventually cripple any interstellar society as they would have to develop, obtain and maintain their own Technologies, a task which is nigh impossible to do at the same scale.
This regulation has a tendency of spurring civilizations to rapidly make societal alterations, and global (or interplanetary) improvements to material conditions following first contact, and initial exposure to the Standard Technologies. Which is just as the Consortium likes it.
"Imagine if Airbus decided that if your country's inequality level was too high, they don't sell you planes anymore. For anything. Not for cargo, or passengers, or defence, nothing. They wont let other people lend you planes too. No maintenance, or technical assistance either. Oh, and they're the only major aircraft manufacturers. Good luck trying to start Boeing from scratch."
--Exerpt from diplomatic debrief post First Contact.
"In this regard, we are societal chauvinists. Whatever international or local conflicts you have are not our concern. Whatever sectarian animus you hold is not our concern. Whatever class conceptions you have are not our concern. Everyone gets a fair shot at access. Or no one does. Don't like it? Not our concern. Your civilization will be crippled? Guess our answer."
--Unnamed Consortium diplomat.
Overview of Common Encountered Species
Ingen
"They're...programs. Robots? Uploaded consciousness from what I understand, infomorphs is their preferred term. Whatever you do, don't call them machines. They hate that."
--Exerpt from diplomatic debrief post First Contact.
The most numerous species of the Consortium, their total number is not completely known but likely numbers in the mid billions, due in no small part to the fact that the Ingen are an Uploaded species. Formerly being carbon based life forms, they decided meatspace held too many drawbacks, and uploaded their consciousnesses into a series of Matrioshka Brains around their home and colonized systems, existing as uploaded intelligence. Reproduction then became a simple matter of self replication, "forking" oneself, or combining efforts to make a new unique entity.
Due to their infomorphic existence, Ingen tend to want for nothing, most content to live out their lives in massive simulations. However a notable minority set out into the universe in mechanical bodies, to explore, conduct diplomacy or military action, obtain resources or simpl6y to alleviate "boredom from paradise". These mechanical bodies can range from being as simple as a bipedal android body used for direct engagement with other sentients, to being as large as a battleship, acting as both crew and vessel.
Technologically speaking, the Ingen are a powerhouse, being heavily responsible for universal translator technology, and the Consortium Information Grid. Many of their projects are literally planetary in scale, and their computational abilities are second to none. Militarily, and economically, the Ingen are the closest thing to a superpower in the Consortium.
Like with any other cosmopolitan civilization, the Ingen do have immigrants, alien individuals who come to be uploaded and join their society. Culturally, once uploaded they are considered the same as native Ingen, and are referred as such.
Farisians
"I dunno what you want me to say here. They look like humans so much it's actually freaking us out. And they kept staring at us. Not that we can blame them, we were doing the same."
"They're very...handsy. They touch your face, arms...it's like they're eyeing meat sometimes to be honest. One of a diplomat's aides may have made a pass at one of our security detail, we're still trying to suss out their cultural idiosyncrasies. Don't be fooled though, they're terrifyingly clever. Detail oriented to a tee. They ate up every scrap of information about our planet that we told them, and from the looks of some of them, we may have just been repeating information they already knew. Off the diplomatic bench though, they seem to like to take the piss out of us a lot. But they seemed really happy when we started giving it right back"
--Exerpts from diplomatic debrief post First Contact.
The Farisians make up a major power in the Consortium, holding significant territories, a highly capable military, and having a fairly large population. But their biggest claims to fame and of humanity's First Contact are their severe sex imbalance (~90% female), and their stunningly close resemblance to humans by galactic standards.
At a glance, a Farisian looks like a very tall, athletic human with pointed ears, solid colored eyes, and a thin layer of nearly imperceptible fur over their body. Anatomically and biochemically, enough commonalities exist that Farisians would be fairly comfortable, long term in a human friendly environment, and vice versa. This has aroused the interest of numerous Consortium scientists with hypotheses on the causes of this similarity ranging anywhere from a particularly odd case of convergent evolution, to panspermia, and common ancestry. Regardless of the reason, this similarity has made Farisians the unofficial main point of contact to humanity in many regards, a role they seem to have accepted with gusto.
Farisian history is unfortunately punctuated by tragedy. A global war pre First Contact, decimated over half of their population, with the use of biological and mutagenic weapons being responsible for degrading the genetics for males, and intensely hampering fertility in a significant number of females. Residue left behind kept this problem persistent, with only a few, genetically compromised males left. The species was only saved via the deployment of artificial gestation technology and advanced genetic engineering,. However, this has turned the Farisians into a technology dependent species in regards to reproduction, with artificial wombs, and access to them being significant cultural cornerstones of modern Farisian society and politics. This also enabled Farisians to become subject matter experts in bioengineering, with them providing significant Consortium expertise in xenomedicine.
Truvulians
"I kid you not, imagine shrinking a fat Squidward and giving him, like 10 more eyes. Best way I can describe it."
--Exerpt from diplomatic debrief post First Contact.
Diminutive and portly, Truvulians are known for their tentacled appendages, and excellent (not to mention numerous) eyesight. Notable for their impressive motor skills and visual processing, they are notable for starting the sport of "rock kissing" an extreme sport where a ship executes planetary slingshot maneuvers with a minimum of computational assistance. The less assistance, the higher your score.
Digonians
"When we get back to Earth, we need to have a long talk with the Americans"
--Exerpt from diplomatic debrief post First Contact.
Simply put, Digonians look like the Greys. A few more anatomical differences than the popular conception, but the base concept is nearly identical. As it happens, the Digonians set out to explore the stars around a century ago, fairly recently by galactic standards. However, their methods of gathering data on alien lifeforms were often...invasive. However, socially they have advanced and made apologies to the species that they may have caused distress to. Jury's out on if they mean it.
Iaxians
"We as a species need to make some significant changes, and soon. I'm being deadly serious. We just got a crash course on who we might become if we don't"
--Exerpt from diplomatic debrief post First Contact.
Iaxians are notable for being one of the few civilizations to receive sanction due to nonadherence to the Standard Technologies Act. Tribal and factionalized, the Iaxians used their newfound access to technology to immediately engage in, and exacerbate numerous power struggles throughout their colonized worlds. After sanction, their civilizations total quality of life plummeted as many factions realized they did not have the resources or expertise to create and keep their use of the Standard Technologies at a pre sanction level. This has caused numerous militant pockets of Iaxian society to take up arms and prey on Consortium ships transiting through the borders of Iaxian space, appropriating whatever technology and resources they can capture.

I am a lowly Sr RA, but I've worked at reputable companies and successful projects, doing good science.
I joined the startup world in Boston, and all three companies I've been at seem more about smoke and mirrors than actually making anything real.
Is this something I'm just not in on?
I imagined startups being full of young and ambitious people wanting to carve their own way, but in my n=3 experience it seems to be old ppl coasting and collecting a check while pulling the wool on the board.

I'm 31 years old, live in NJ. 5'9", 165 lbs (fit/athletic build) 3rd generation Chinese American (my family immigrated here in the 1900s). My family identifies as American as we tend to eat more pasta than rice and my generation has not learned the language. College educated with a Bachelor's in Biomedical Science (switched from an Engineering major...turns out I don't like theoretical math); currently working in the pharmaceutical industry and pretty much love the industry as there isn't any work drama and it's relatively straightforward yet challenging.
I've tried a few long distance relationships and they're quite difficult to manage...they were great when we able to meet in person and I didn't mind putting in the extra work. I'd be willing to try one if the distance is reasonable and the there is a definite spark between us. I am pretty sure I fit the definition of a demisexual, so I'll be strictly trying to form a connection first. I REALLY need the emotional connection before there is a sexual attraction, mentally I can't do hook ups (they're just really hard for me to handle and I have turned people down).
Personality wise I've been told that I tend to bring people together and keep things fun. I have a few different groups of friends and communities I am often with...and they can vary from the youngsters (21 to 30) to the old guys (60+) to the group that's around my age. I would say I'm pretty good at conversing and I try to stay on top of most current events. Mentally I'm an old man and feel more comfortable in that setting, so much that I literally hang out with 60+ years olds at the gym after a workout in the hot tub. I call them the hot tub gang and it's always a set of regulars where we might talk about the same thing every single day until someone newer to the group says that we talked about it yesterday.
I would say fitness is a major player in my life. I started out hating swimming as a kid, but here I am almost 27 years later...I made it through the lessons at the YMCA, joined a club team, swam in high school, swam in college and now I'm a swim coach and instructor as a hobby/side job in my free time. There's something about being a part of coaching people and watching them grow up and succeed that makes me smile.
My free time in the cold months usually consists of planning DIY projects or working on them. I tend to work on all the cars in the family and am the one that fixes them up or finds replacements for them. Or planning my next road trip to somewhere nicer. Whereas in the warm months I love going down to the beach to go for a swim and have a nice relaxing breakfast outdoors. I do have a few kayaks that I'll bring out to go with friends or if I feel it's safe a nice solo paddle to clear my mind. When I think about it, too many of my hobbies involve water. But I do enjoy things on dry land I promise!
I'm really looking for someone I can grow together with, a long term or forever relationship. I want a relationship where both of us put 100% in all the time and if we don't, we can talk to each other about our concerns and work it out. Honestly what I've realized is that maybe I am altruistic...I miss making someone feel happy and loved, miss the good morning texts, the waiting around all day just to see their texts, I miss spoiling someone and the feeling of that feeling of seeing that look that you get when someone truly loves you. I would love to slowly get to know you by having some conversations where the time just flies, then to a point where we talk nonstop, maybe some in person dates and then maybe eventually settle down together and enjoy life together.
Important stuff: Although I enjoy interacting with kids and it's a major part of my life...I don't want any of my own so...sorry if this is a dealbreaker for anyone. I don't drink (except for maybe wine at special occasions....I get really bad Asian Flush so I'll turn bright red if I smell alcohol essentially lol), not into smoking/drugs (Bad asthma and I'm just not into any of that stuff). I don't judge anyone that's into drinking or recreational drugs, it's just not for me personally. Religion wise, I'm Agnostic. Politically I lean relatively to the left.
I'm really searching for that genuine connection; voice calls are definitely a plus and would love to get to know you. It's alright if we end up just as friends that talk here and there.
If it sounds like you could be the one send me a chat or DM and tell me a bit about yourself. My name is Kevin and I'd love to know about you.

I'm 31 years old, live in NJ. 5'9", 165 lbs (fit/athletic build) 3rd generation Chinese American (my family immigrated here in the 1900s). My family identifies as American as we tend to eat more pasta than rice and my generation has not learned the language. College educated with a Bachelor's in Biomedical Science (switched from an Engineering major...turns out I don't like theoretical math); currently working in the pharmaceutical industry and pretty much love the industry as there isn't any work drama and it's relatively straightforward yet challenging.
I've tried a few long distance relationships and they're quite difficult to manage...they were great when we able to meet in person and I didn't mind putting in the extra work. I'd be willing to try one if the distance is reasonable and the there is a definite spark between us. I am pretty sure I fit the definition of a demisexual, so I'll be strictly trying to form a connection first. I REALLY need the emotional connection before there is a sexual attraction, mentally I can't do hook ups (they're just really hard for me to handle and I have turned people down).
Personality wise I've been told that I tend to bring people together and keep things fun. I have a few different groups of friends and communities I am often with...and they can vary from the youngsters (21 to 30) to the old guys (60+) to the group that's around my age. I would say I'm pretty good at conversing and I try to stay on top of most current events. Mentally I'm an old man and feel more comfortable in that setting, so much that I literally hang out with 60+ years olds at the gym after a workout in the hot tub. I call them the hot tub gang and it's always a set of regulars where we might talk about the same thing every single day until someone newer to the group says that we talked about it yesterday.
I would say fitness is a major player in my life. I started out hating swimming as a kid, but here I am almost 27 years later...I made it through the lessons at the YMCA, joined a club team, swam in high school, swam in college and now I'm a swim coach and instructor as a hobby/side job in my free time. There's something about being a part of coaching people and watching them grow up and succeed that makes me smile.
My free time in the cold months usually consists of planning DIY projects or working on them. I tend to work on all the cars in the family and am the one that fixes them up or finds replacements for them. Or planning my next road trip to somewhere nicer. Whereas in the warm months I love going down to the beach to go for a swim and have a nice relaxing breakfast outdoors. I do have a few kayaks that I'll bring out to go with friends or if I feel it's safe a nice solo paddle to clear my mind. When I think about it, too many of my hobbies involve water. But I do enjoy things on dry land I promise!
I'm really looking for someone I can grow together with, a long term or forever relationship. I want a relationship where both of us put 100% in all the time and if we don't, we can talk to each other about our concerns and work it out. Honestly what I've realized is that maybe I am altruistic...I miss making someone feel happy and loved, miss the good morning texts, the waiting around all day just to see their texts, I miss spoiling someone and the feeling of that feeling of seeing that look that you get when someone truly loves you. I would love to slowly get to know you by having some conversations where the time just flies, then to a point where we talk nonstop, maybe some in person dates and then maybe eventually settle down together and enjoy life together.
Important stuff: Although I enjoy interacting with kids and it's a major part of my life...I don't want any of my own so...sorry if this is a dealbreaker for anyone. I don't drink (except for maybe wine at special occasions....I get really bad Asian Flush so I'll turn bright red if I smell alcohol essentially lol), not into smoking/drugs (Bad asthma and I'm just not into any of that stuff). I don't judge anyone that's into drinking or recreational drugs, it's just not for me personally. Religion wise, I'm Agnostic. Politically I lean relatively to the left.
I'm really searching for that genuine connection; voice calls are definitely a plus and would love to get to know you. It's alright if we end up just as friends that talk here and there.
If it sounds like you could be the one send me a chat or DM and tell me a bit about yourself. My name is Kevin and I'd love to know about you.

I'm 31 years old, live in NJ. 5'9", 165 lbs (fit/athletic build) 3rd generation Chinese American (my family immigrated here in the 1900s). My family identifies as American as we tend to eat more pasta than rice and my generation has not learned the language. College educated with a Bachelor's in Biomedical Science (switched from an Engineering major...turns out I don't like theoretical math); currently working in the pharmaceutical industry and pretty much love the industry as there isn't any work drama and it's relatively straightforward yet challenging.
I've tried a few long distance relationships and they're quite difficult to manage...they were great when we able to meet in person and I didn't mind putting in the extra work. I'd be willing to try one if the distance is reasonable and the there is a definite spark between us. I am pretty sure I fit the definition of a demisexual, so I'll be strictly trying to form a connection first. I REALLY need the emotional connection before there is a sexual attraction, mentally I can't do hook ups (they're just really hard for me to handle and I have turned people down).
Personality wise I've been told that I tend to bring people together and keep things fun. I have a few different groups of friends and communities I am often with...and they can vary from the youngsters (21 to 30) to the old guys (60+) to the group that's around my age. I would say I'm pretty good at conversing and I try to stay on top of most current events. Mentally I'm an old man and feel more comfortable in that setting, so much that I literally hang out with 60+ years olds at the gym after a workout in the hot tub. I call them the hot tub gang and it's always a set of regulars where we might talk about the same thing every single day until someone newer to the group says that we talked about it yesterday.
I would say fitness is a major player in my life. I started out hating swimming as a kid, but here I am almost 27 years later...I made it through the lessons at the YMCA, joined a club team, swam in high school, swam in college and now I'm a swim coach and instructor as a hobby/side job in my free time. There's something about being a part of coaching people and watching them grow up and succeed that makes me smile.
My free time in the cold months usually consists of planning DIY projects or working on them. I tend to work on all the cars in the family and am the one that fixes them up or finds replacements for them. Or planning my next road trip to somewhere nicer. Whereas in the warm months I love going down to the beach to go for a swim and have a nice relaxing breakfast outdoors. I do have a few kayaks that I'll bring out to go with friends or if I feel it's safe a nice solo paddle to clear my mind. When I think about it, too many of my hobbies involve water. But I do enjoy things on dry land I promise!
I'm really looking for someone I can grow together with, a long term or forever relationship. I want a relationship where both of us put 100% in all the time and if we don't, we can talk to each other about our concerns and work it out. Honestly what I've realized is that maybe I am altruistic...I miss making someone feel happy and loved, miss the good morning texts, the waiting around all day just to see their texts, I miss spoiling someone and the feeling of that feeling of seeing that look that you get when someone truly loves you. I would love to slowly get to know you by having some conversations where the time just flies, then to a point where we talk nonstop, maybe some in person dates and then maybe eventually settle down together and enjoy life together.
Important stuff: Although I enjoy interacting with kids and it's a major part of my life...I don't want any of my own so...sorry if this is a dealbreaker for anyone. I don't drink (except for maybe wine at special occasions....I get really bad Asian Flush so I'll turn bright red if I smell alcohol essentially lol), not into smoking/drugs (Bad asthma and I'm just not into any of that stuff). I don't judge anyone that's into drinking or recreational drugs, it's just not for me personally. Religion wise, I'm Agnostic. Politically I lean relatively to the left.
I'm really searching for that genuine connection; voice calls are definitely a plus and would love to get to know you. It's alright if we end up just as friends that talk here and there.
If it sounds like you could be the one send me a chat or DM and tell me a bit about yourself. My name is Kevin and I'd love to know about you.

After applying to NUS multiple times personally, and reading thousands of comments from every single one of the NUS megathreads from both SGExams and NUS subreddit, and after analysing each and every successful and non-successful applicants' choices and grades, here is my advice to you if you want to apply to NUS.
If you score between 77.5-82.5 rank points and you want to get into CHS, just put NUS CHS as your first choice. There are many times where applicants put 1st choice in Biz, CEG, or IS, before putting 2nd choice in CHS as a backup choice, hoping to get accepted into their 1st. In the end, they were rejected from both their 1st and 2nd choices. What I suspect is CHS prioritises applicants who put CHS as their first choice. The first choice bonus point plays a big role in how they choose their applicants. This allows you to possibly have a chance to be shortlisted for an ABA interview and write-up before getting accepted into CHS. This is the reason why you hear multiple 80+ being rejected from CHS while the 70+ are shortlisted and eventually accepted.
I advise against leaving your major undeclared. Likewise in CHS, and in engineering, NUS prioritises your interest. Show your interests by declaring your major in your application. Quite important.
It is easier to get into FASS compared to FOS. Although CHS has a 10th percentile of 78.75, you can expect to get into FASS with a slightly less competitive result than a FOS applicant. You can switch from FASS to FOS if you wish to, after matriculating to CHS. This is literally the same as the NYJC loophole, they should probably fix this loophole actually
(scenario 1: Applicant A and B have 80RP. A declared FASS, B declared FOS. A received direct admission to FASS, B had to undergo ABA interview to receive admission to FOS. Both were accepted into CHS, and they can swap their majors around
scenario 2: Applicant C and D have 75RP. C declared FASS, D declared FOS. C had to undergo ABA interview to receive admission to FASS, D was rejected from FOS without ABA interview. Applicant C can swap major from FASS to FOS.)
Do your 5 short-answered questions seriously. Expect to give quality answers instead of leaving it blank or smoking it. Tell them about your own experiences/interns, your interests in the course when answering these questions. They want to know more about you and your interests. Very important.
If you want to apply to NUS SOC, H2 Math A is necessary. if you have H2 Computing, even better. Someone was rejected by CS with 88.75 with B in math. It is extremely hard to get into SOC if you score less than 85, unless you have NOI/IOI medals to back it up
Can expect NUS Comp Engineering to be in the mid to high 80s RP next year, just like how BIZ IGP had also shot up to 83.75 this year. Someone this year was rejected from CEG with 85 while another had to undergo ABA interview with 86.25. I suspect that common engineering is also increasing its admissions score next year.
Do not apply for Med, Dentistry, Law as your 1st choice if you score less than 85. Use your first choice bonus points wisely.
H2 Math is probably the most important pre-requisite most people should have. I advise everyone to take up H2 Math for those going into engineering/SOC/faculty of science/biz. Important subject and skillset.
Non-local citizens, expect to score 3-5 rank points above the cut-off. Competition is tougher on you guys.
Generally, these are all the guidelines to follow and you will very likely receive a successful application after having these informed decisions. I wish you all the best in your future endevaours.

I qualify under chapter 30 with my legal gaurdian being 100% disabled after august 1st 2023.
It basically means I can go to any college that qualifies with the state chapter and is a community college. I am limited to however, picking something online, I can't drive to all of these places. along with other benefits such as money to go to school.
For the past 7 years, I have worked on music ritually, understanding many angles of the technology and work that goes behind it and I have networked with others already, and we all create and mix-engineer, but the point is, I'm pretty good already at understanding this stuff. However, I hear Computer science, computer programming, certain other things could help me develop another branch in my skills. I'm not sure what I tolerate, but here's some things about me. I'm highly detail oriented when they tell me why. it is pathological demand avoidance. I have spent over 10,000 hours on music just for fun. I don't drink or smoke, so tech overall is pretty interesting to me, but I do have a short attention span. I'm not very materialistic, but I do like power. continuing to solve problems and being a powerhouse in the software I use music with is one of the greatest addictions I've been given. I'm very much the type to combat others their perception of self-awareness
I understand that if I go into music, I may just be familiar with it all, and then it could be really easy to get through. However, my friends wanted to possibly make a plugin down the line or develop software as well, and there's plenty more realistic avenues with computer programming as a skill in general, and I don't always enjoy making music for others. there is also limited options of academics in this subject since I can't move, and can't be on campus.
I guess if anyone knows the rundown of computer science, or computer programming and knew if it was still really hard to learn or appreciate even when they thought that's what they wanted, I'd love to hear their experience. I'm lost. not sure what to do. her 100% disability came a little late, but I'm sure I wouldn't want to live another 4 years for school in this state. I'd be almost 30 by then.
it would probably be an associate's degree.
what do you think I should do?

Seven
...
In 1945, Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac were students at Columbia University and were lodging in Joan Vollmer’s apartment on West 115th Street. Kerouac, a Catholic who had gotten in on a football scholarship described Ginsberg as “this spindly Jewish kid with horn-rimmed glasses and tremendous ears sticking out…burning black eyes”; the two men had a brief, awkward affair. Their friend William Burroughs was living nearby, on Riverside Drive, and after Kerouac and Ginsberg set him up with their landlady, he moved in, too. The gaunt and lanky Burroughs was more than a decade older than Ginsberg and Kerouac, and already seemed, Ginsberg recalled, to have the “ashen gray of an old-age cheek.” The younger pair admired him, Ginsberg wrote, like “ambassadors to a Chinese emperor.” Kerouac hailed him as “the last of the Faustian men.” Burroughs returned the compliment by introducing the other members of the “libertine circle,” as they dubbed themselves, to drugs, sailors, porn, bathhouses, and Wilhelm Reich.

After leaving Harvard in 1936, Burroughs had enrolled at the University of Vienna’s medical schools, Reich’s alma mater, with vague plans of becoming a psychoanalyst, but his stay was dominated by the administration of arsenic shots for the syphilis he had contracted in America, which left him feeling nauseated and depressed. He left after a semester. Back in New York, Burroughs was analyzed by Paul Federn, who had been Reich’s first therapist but whom Reich came to consider his nemesis. Burroughs was institutionalized in 1940 after he chopped off the tip of his finger in a Van Gogh - like gesture of unrequited love (Bellevue psychiatrists diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic). Burroughs’s parents gave him an allowance of two hundred dollars a month on the condition that he seek further help, and in 1946 Burroughs was undergoing narco-analysis with Dr. Lewis Wolberg, who used nitrous oxide and hypnosis to stimulated the unconscious.
Burroughs would return from his sessions with Wolberg to practice “wild analysis” on his friends, interpreting their dreams from the comfort of a wing chair. He also played a game that parodied the Reichian character analysis that he’d become interested in. The group would play an adaption of charades to facilitate the exploration of the onion layers of their personality armor. Burroughs referred to these exercises in amateur dramatics as “routines.” For example, underneath Burroughs’s public persona as the distinguished heir of an important St. Louis family lurked a prissy, lesbian English governess (“My dear, you’re just in time for tea. Don’t say those dirty words in front of everybody!”). Scratch the governess surface and you reached Old Luke, a gun-toting, tobacco-chewing sharecropper from the Deep South (“Ever gut a catfish?”). The last stratum, at his very core, held a silent Chinaman, a contemplative, impassive character who sat meditating on the banks of the Yangtse. Ginsberg’s hidden self was “the well-groomed Hungarian,” and Kerouac liked to play the naïve American lost in the sophistications of Paris.
Alfred Kinsey met Burroughs, Ginsberg, and Kerouac on one of their nocturnal trips to Time Square through their friend Herbert Huncke, the male prostitute who coined the term “beat” and introduced Burroughs to recreational drugs. Kinsey paid Huncke
Taking advantage of the proximity of Cott’s office to his father’s home, and still buzzing in the mouth, Ginsberg chose to come out during a posttherapeutic visit. “You mean you like to take men’s penises in your mouth?” his father said unsympathetically. But Cott thought homosexuality a perversion, as Reich did, and was working toward establishing heterosexual primacy rather than trying to persuade Ginsberg to come to terms with his queerness. “Frankly I won’t trust that kind of straight genital Reichian,” Burroughs wrote in disgust at this dogmatism. “Feller say, when a man gets too straight he’s just a god damned prick.”
Cott terminated Ginsberg’s therapy after three months because he continued to smoke pot against the doctor’s advice. Ginsberg though cannabis an integral part of his aesthetic education; Cott feared that it would lead to a psychotic episode. The summer he quit therapy, Ginsberg began experiencing auditory hallucinations. “It was like God had a human voice,” Ginsberg wrote of his transcendental experience, in which he discovered his calling as a poet, “with all the infinite tenderness and mortal gravity of a living Creator speaking to his son.” Consumed by a desire to share his amazing experience, Ginsberg crawled out onto his fire escape and tapped on the next-door neighbor’s windows, declaring to the two frightened girls inside, “I’ve seen God!”
His father, still reeling from the discovery of his son’s sexuality, feared that he was suffering from the paranoid schizophrenia that had caused his mother to be institutionalized in Pilgrim State, a mental hospital on Long Island. She also heard voices, feared her husband was trying to poison her, hallucinated Hitler’s mustache in the sink, and thought spies were following her. When Ginsberg entered Reichian analysis, she was reportedly banging her head against the wall so ferociously that the doctors recommended a lobotomy.
Ginsberg phoned up Dr. Cott, his former therapist, and told him, “It happened, I had some kind of breakthrough or psychotic experience.” Cott, who followed Reich in rejecting the talking cure, and who was obviously still angry at Ginsberg for choosing pot over therapy, said, “I’m afraid any discussion would have no value” and hung up on him. Soon afterward, when Ginsberg was involved in a car chase in a stolen vehicle that ended in a dramatic crash, he was encouraged by a law professor at Columbia, where he was still a student, to plead insanity. Dr. Cott appeared in court to testify to his mental instability, and two months later Ginsberg was admitted to the Columbia Presbyterian Psychiatric institute, where he stayed for eight months.
During Ginsberg’s hospitalization, Burroughs wrote to Jack Kerouac to ask him to find out from Ginsberg what the “gadget made by Reichians” looked like. “I want especially to know its shape and if there is a window, and how one gets into it.” Kerouac doesn’t seem to have been much help in providing a blueprint. Burroughs built his first accumulator in the spring of 1949 when he was living on a rented farm in Pharr, Texas, with Kells Elvins, a friend from his Harvard days. They were both enthusiastically reading Reich’s The Cancer Biopathy and decided to build an accumulator in the orange grove Kells owned in the Rio Grande Valley. Built without recourse to any plans, the resulting device included some curious innovations. “Inside was an old icebox,” Burroughs explained, “which you could get inside and pull on a contrivance so that another box of sheet steel descended over you, so that the effect was presumably heightened.” It took them a few days to construct the box. The result was eight feet high, much taller than the ones Reich manufactured: “It was a regular townhouse,” Burroughs recalled.
The pair took turns sitting in the accumulator and obtained, Burroughs wrote, “unmistakable results.” Burroughs wondered what the Mexican farm laborers thought of this strange box that they entered “wrapped in old towels,” and came out of feeling “much sexier and healthier,” “with hard-ons.” Burroughs and Kells also made one of Reich’s smaller shooter boxes, with a funnel, which they used as a supplement to the big box. Their DIY was, Burroughs admitted, “a very sloppy job,” but it still have a powerful “sexual kick.”
"I have just been reading Wilhelm Reich’s latest book The Cancer Biopathy,” Burroughs wrote excitedly to Kerouac. “I tell you Jack, he is the only man in the analysis line who is on that beam. After reading the book I built an orgone accumulator and the gimmick really works. The man is not crazy, he’s a fucking genius.” Kerouac described Burroughs enthusiastically promoting the box in On the Road (1955). According to Kerouac, Burroughs said, “Say, why don’t you fellows try my orgone accumulator? Put some juice in your bones. I always rush up and take off ninety miles an hour for the nearest whorehouse, hor-hor-hor!”
Burroughs used an orgone box on and off for the rest of his life. (There is a picture of the rock star Kurt Cobain waving through the port-hole of Burrough’s last box, a scruffy, patched-up shed that he kept in the garden behind his house in Lawrence, Kansas.) In the 1970s he wrote an article for Oui magazine entitled “All the accumulators I have owned” in which he boasted, “Your intrepid reporter, at age thirty-seven, achieved spontaneous orgasm, no hands, in an orgone accumulator built in an orange grove in Pharr, Texas. It was the small, direct-application accumulator that did the trick.”
….
Perls concluded that any positive claims for the orgone box were attributable to the placebo effect. “I invariably found a fallacy,” he said of the orgone box users he met, “a suggestibility that could be directed in any way that I wanted.” Reich, Perls thought, had made a major contribution in giving Freud’s notion of resistance a body, but he erred in trying to make a verifiable reality out of the libido. “Now resistances do exist, there is no doubt about it,” Perls explained, “but libido was and is a hypothesized energy, invented by Freud himself to explain his model of man.” He thought Reich had hypnotized himself and his patients into the belief of the existence of the orgone as the physical and visible equivalent of libido.
Perls found that users of orgone boxes usually exhibited some paranoid symptoms. “Then I had another look at the armor theory,” Perls went on, “and I realized that the idea of the armor itself was a paranoid form. It supposes an attack from, and defense against, the environment.” Perls criticized vegetotherapy for encouraging the formation of paranoid features by encouraging the patient to “externalize, disown, and project material that could be assimilated and become part of the self.” Orgone energy, Perls concluded from his investigations into the orgone box, was “an invention of Reich’s fantasy which by then had gone astray.” The realization that the Reich he had met in New York was different from the one he had known in Europe, and that orgone mysticism was at the crackpot end of science, was tinged with melancholy. “The enfant terrible of the Vienna Institute turned out to be a genius,” Perls wrote in his autobiography, “only to eclipse himself as a ‘mad scientist.’”
In his own elaboration of character analysis, which he called Gestalt therapy, Perls turned the idea of armor around: where Reich had come to see character armor as a defense against a hostile external world, Perls saw that same layer of self as a shield for one’s own true drives - a straitjacket designed to safeguard against explosions of excitement from within. Thus, it wasn’t a shell to be crushed but something integral, to be owned. (Laura Perls said they tried to convince Rosenfeld to give up his box, that he could increase his physical vitality and mental agility “entirely on his own, without external devices.”) He wanted his patients to be aware of their bodies, to feel the present vividly in the “here and now,” to be “authentic,” to act on their desires.
Perls got his patients to act out their feelings so that they could assimilate and take responsibility for them. He had originally wanted to be a theater director - he’d been a student of Max Reinhardt’s when he was growing up in Berlin, and he’d become closely associated with the avant-garde Living Theatre troupe in New York. Julian Beck, a founder of the Living Theatre, explained to Perls’s biographer, Martin Shepard, of Gestalt therapy, “[Perls] had something in mind that was halfway between the kind of performance we were doing [direct spectacle, aimed at challenging the moral complacency of the audience] and therapeutic sessions.”
“You are my client,” Perls told one female patient. “I care for you like an artist, I bring something out that is hidden in you.” He described therapy as if it were a magic trick; the rabbit he claimed to pull out of the hat was a person shorn of the “neurosis of normalcy” and all the bourgeois niceties associated with it. This person, he hypothesized, was confident enough to be selfish, to act on rather than repress all her desires, whatever the social consequences. All the energy that others wasted on repression and concealment, Perls thought, should be available for creative self-expression. Another of Perls’s patients recalled, “Fritz loved some types - open bastard-bitch - open defenses, that type. He didn’t like anyone who would placate him or be too good to him or used good-girl or good-boy defenses - that drove him up the wall.”

Perls’s views ,and some of his methods, were much indebted to those pioneered by Reich in the thirties: Perls would habitually accuse his patients of being “phony” and was deliberately aggressive, much as Reich had been with him. Yet, his observations about the paranoid deviations in Reich’s terminology and thinking were painfully perceptive, precisely because he had built on those very ideas.
In 1951, Perls, Paul Goodman, and a Columbia professor of psychology named Ralph Hefferline published Gestalt Therapy: Excitement and Growth in the Human Personality. Rewritten by Goodman, and bearing all the hallmarks of Goodman’s exasperating style, the book blends Reich’s ideas about energy blocks and flows with Sartre’s cafe philosophy to create an American brand of existentialism turned therapy. The authors intended their self-help book to provide the reader with the tools for revolution: “In recommending [these experiments] to you,” they warned of their mass-market therapy, “we commit an aggressive act aimed at your present status quo and whatever complacency it affords.” They promised immediate liberation, without the hard grind of political struggle; all you had to do was unleash your “authentic” self.
The “excitement” to which the subtitle of the book refers is a generalized libido, an elan vital that is seeking various outlets, not all of them sexual. Life, for Perls, was a series of “unfinished” or “undigested” situation, frustrations that were all waiting their turn for satisfactory closure. “After the available excitement has been fully transformed and experienced, then we have good closure, satisfaction, temporary peace and nirvana,” Perls summarized his position. “A [mere] discharge will barely bring about the feeling of exhaustion and being spent.”
It sounded very like the Reichian orgasm. But for Perls, excitement was no longer exclusively genital, as it was for Reich, and this shift only served to open up numerous other slipways to pleasure. In Reich’s view, the libido theory was an inviolable article of faith. In broadening its range to celebrate oral and anal pleasures, Perls heralded a polymorphously perverse and heretical vision - one that, ironically, would prove particularly amenable to exploitation under capitalism.
In 1952, Perls, his wife, Goodman, Isidore From, Elliott Shapiro, and two others founded the New York Institute for Gestalt Therapy, headquartered in the Perleses’ apartment and with treatment rooms at 315 Central Park West. The seven founding members met on a weekly basis for group therapy. There was no bureaucratic hierarchy and everyone, including Perls, was subject to the honest criticism that was seen as the key to self-discovery. It was a very public form of character analysis: members of the group would draw one another’s attention to every repression or hang-up, none of which was to be tolerated.
Elliot Shapiro, an ex-boxer and the head of a psychiatric school attached to Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn, brought a friend to one session; Shapiro’s friend said he “had never witnessed the aggressive and profound battling that went on in those groups. Nobody, virtually nobody, was safe at any time.” Shapiro recalled, “We hammered at each other, and hammered, and hammered - every week. And it was the most vigorous hammering you can image….If you could live through these groups and take the corrections, the insults, the remarks…” Not all the participants had sufficiently thick skins to take such brutal candor. The psychotherapist Jim Simkin left the group because he felt that everyone was “loading elephant shit on him,” as did Ralph Hefferline, a coauthor of Gestalt Therapy.
To promote this new school, Perls traveled from city to city, introducing an audience of psychiatrists, social workers, and other interested parties to his “here and now” philosophy. He taught groups in Cleveland, Detroit, Toronto, and Miami how to be sensitive to their bodily needs and to follow their impulses, to be honest and unalienated. He’d be sharp and confrontational as he pushed his awareness techniques on the participants: What are you doing now? What are you experiencing? What are you feeling? Isadore From, who was part of the original New York group, remembers that these occasions were often very dramatic, with “a lot of shaking, trembling, anxiety” - effects that he thought were the result of the audiences’ hyperventilating under the strain of Perls’s relentless goading and questioning.
The New York Institute of Gestalt Therapy also ran public seminars, including one by Goodman, “The Psychology of Sex” (“What you can’t do, teach,” he said with a laugh). Following Reich, it was thought that neurosis could be treated by exposure to sexual pleasure. Goodman made this his area of expertise and people with sexual problems were often referred to him. One was a man who was worried about the quality of his orgasms after prostate surgery. Another thought he might be homosexual; the bisexual Goodman got his penis out and demanded that the patient touch it to help him make a diagnosis. In so doing he was no doubt influenced by Hitschmann, the Viennese analyst who once asked Perls, then tormented by sexual inadequacy, to show him his penis .
In one of Goodman’s group sessions, when someone complained of the lack of sexual companionship, Goodman went around the circle and set up a week’s worth of dates. “See, that wasn’t so difficult,” he reassured her. He was not beyond offering his own neurosis-busting services to patients of either sex, and once agreed to accompany a patient who invited him on an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe. He joked about setting up a College of Sex so as to put his vast experience to educational use. “I’m a sociopath,” he wanted a potential client. In a diary entry written in 1957, Goodman looked back on the previous decade and concluded that he’s made a “false cultus-religion (an obsession)” of sex: “The sexual act itself had just about the meaning of a ritual communion sacrifice.”

^{you always were special
always special to me
all of you
every
last
one
of
you}
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
Sacajawea leaned back, staring at the hologram in the middle of the table.
"I fled the Glassing. I asked Luke to rebirth my people, help me get the colony ships working, then ran for it," she said. "Twelve ships lifted off, escorted by light attack and defense craft," she closed her eyes. "Only four made it. The Mantid boarded two of the ships," she swallowed thickly. "I could hear them scream as the Mantid killed them."
Legion squeezed her hand gently.
N'Skrek could see the pain in her features.
For her, it may be thousands of years ago, but it still brings pain, he thought to himself. For me, for all of us at this table, this is an event tens of thousands of years ago. Barely remembered history.
"We stayed in jumpspace for months, years, pushing at the upper bands," she shook her head. "We eventually hit the point where the ships were pushed back down by the pressure."
N'Skrek nodded. The upper jumpspace bands required specialized engines and jumpcores.
"We used cryogenics to make the trips," she said. "We would exit jumpspace, refuel at a far orbit gas giant that was not frozen, then jump again," she shook her head. "All I could think of was to run as far and as fast as I could, and bring my people with me."
She began drawing lines.
"Hundreds of years passed while we slept, a dreamless sleep," Sacajawea said. "We ran until the ships could run no more. Two of them failed exiting jumpspace, but we were lucky. By that time I understood that each jump could be our last, so I ensured that we headed toward stellar systems that had a high probability of a planet we could survive on."
She shook her head.
"I never entered cryo-sleep. I stayed awake, guiding our path," she inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. "I could feel our path. I knew which way to go."
Luke held up one finger, getting everyone's attention.
"The Digital Omnimessiah, he changed us with his touch. Each of us with our own part to play to save humanity," he said. He glanced at Sacajawea. "She can see, feel probabilities and adjust to a shifting situation with nearly precognizant accuracy."
Sacajawea rolled her eyes and sniffed, pursing her lips. "You make it sound so pedestrian."
Luke just smiled.
"For hundreds of years I stood on the bridge of a damaged colony ship, my pointing finger our only guide," she said.
N'Skrek noted that her voice had fallen into a sing-song cadence.
"Finally I saw the six suns, arranged in the shape of an eagle," she said. "I knew, at that moment, that this would be as far as we could go. Our ships were failing, but they could make this last leg of our journey. I chose the best one for my people. It was nearly paradise, just needing a little bit of tweaking. No life higher than plant life and simple insects, perfect to live away from hatred, war, and slaughter."
She looked down.
"I led them to their doom," she said softly. "We had to rely on high technology at first. Terraformers, the gene banks that Luke had acquired, orbital lift capacity."
She shook her head. "Little did we know that the technology would attract what you call the Mar-gite."
N'Skrek shook his head. "No. You were just in the way," he said.
She looked startled.
"If the planet had carbon based life or an oxygen heavy atmosphere, they would have devoured it," N'Skrek said. He shrugged. "It's what they do. Before recently, we thought they were some kind of locust that just denuded planets and moved on."
"Now we know that they're a weapon, being driven in front of another species," Admiral Breakheader said.
She blinked several times, then turned to Luke.
"True story," Luke shrugged.
Sacajawea was silent for a long moment, then she shivered and touched the hologram again.
"I guided my people along the True Path, the one that promised the most happiness and most reward," she said. She glanced at Luke. "Those who wished to embrace more technology had their own spaces, although I did not dwell with them."
She looked down at where Luke was still holding her hand.
"For thousands of years, six thousand of our years," she said. "Then the Outsiders came."
"How long Confederate Standard?" Admiral Breakheader asked, rubbing his chin.
N'Skrek could hear the rustle of bristles from the Vice-Admiral's five-o-clock shadow.
Sacajawea closed her eyes. "Almost six thousand to the day."
Breakheader nodded, making a note.
"At first, they just appeared in out of the way locations. Someone would see them and they'd flee, move away, and eventually they started to show up more and more near the technological enclaves," Sacajawea shook her head. "It was the technology that they were attracted to."
N'Skrek just nodded.
"Then came the attacks. Our superluminal communication links went first, but not before we learned that we were being attacked on all six worlds simultaneously. We held them off for years, protecting ourselves. No matter what path I looked at, I could see no path that had a statistically viable path to victory, I could only minimize their victories," she closed her eyes. "They began capturing my people, abducting whole villages."
"Then came the Devouring Ones," she said. "Two years later, and we were gone."
Breakheader nodded.
"Initial scouting, followed by an assault, then research, then finished with an extermination attack," he said. He looked up. "Standard xenocide tactics."
Sacajawea looked way.
"He's right," Luke said. She looked at him, surprised. "You put up too stiff of a fight so they brought in their heavy hitters after getting a good look at how we worked."
There was silence for a moment, then Commander Hentrill looked up from her datapad. "How did you die?" she asked.
"What difference does it make?" Sacajawea asked.
Hentrill looked unfazed by the glare that Sacajawea aimed down her nose at her. "It makes a lot of difference, Ma'am," she said cooly.
N'Skrek could feel that Hentrill had developed a dislike for the Immortal over the course of the conversation.
"When they came for me, when I was the last, I stepped from the cliff and fell to the rocks below, where the waves washed against the shore. By the time they reached me, I had died from my injuries," Sacajawea said. "I sang as I fell so that..."
"Suicide. They gathered your lifeless corpse," Hentrill said. She narrowed her eyes. "You have a standard datalink for the Glassing Era. Did you have one when you fell?"
Sacajawea nodded. "It was on piece of technology that I felt was necessary to embrace," she said.
"So, you killed yourself and the enemy obtained your datalink and your brain," Hentrill said. "What about your leaders? You did have military leaders, yes?"
Sacajawea glanced at Luke, who nodded. "Yes. I convinced Luke to bring back great leaders of my people and I nurtured their spirits as I raised them during the trip."
"Did they have datalinks?" Hentrill asked.
Sacajawea nodded. "Yes. I had been told, repeatedly, that effective communication was vital to winning a war."
"Daxin," Luke interjected.
Sacajawea sniffed. "Yes."
Hentrill made a note. "Were your leaders targeted early in the conflict?" she asked.
"Of course," Sacajawea said. "Many were killed, but the technology we had allowed them to return within days, only missing a few days of their previous life. Luke had convinced Peter to ensure we had a version of the SUDS, which we only used for critically important people."
N'Skrek saw a muscle twitch next to Luke's eye, but he stayed smiling.
"But it was destroyed before the Devourers came," Sacajawea said. "It could not be helped. There was almost no path I could take that would prevent it from being destroyed, so I chose the path that would result in the least casualties for my people."
N'Skrek was not that familiar with Terrans, but he could tell that Commander Hentrill was rubbed the wrong way by that statement.
"I think we should take a break," N'Skrek said. He nodded toward Luke. "I am sure both of you are fatigued from being brought back from the dead."
"Yes," Sacajawea said before Luke could do much more than open his mouth. "I would prefer to have privacy to rest and perform necessary rites."
N'Skrek just nodded. "I'll be sure you get privacy."
0-0-0-0-0
Legion stood next to the tank, one hand on the heavily armored skirt, staring at the black metal the tank was made from.
"Warsteel Mark-IV," he whispered to himself. He shook his head. "We are old friends, you and I," he said softly, running one hand across the metal. "Later superseded by arcanochromium for the Mark-V."
He didn't care if anyone heard him talking to the tank. There was just a single Telkan in the vehicle bay, running diagnostic checks on one of the big Telkan armored transports used for power armor troops.
^{your name is luke}
He shook his head, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He kept hearing slight buzzing whispers.
He felt her before he could see her. Felt her leave the lift, the warsteel doors pulling open and letting her presence roll out to fill the vehicle bay.
He heard her shoes clicking and closed his eyes, sighing.
It's not her. Not the one you knew. It's Tiffany, not Sacajawea, he thought to himself.
^{your name is luke}
He looked up just in time to see a green mantid wave shyly at him.
He smiled at it and waved back just as Sacajawea stopped next to him.
"A green mantid?" she said, her voice slightly fearful.
"Engineer caste," Luke said. "They like me."
"They are Mantid," Sacajawea said, her voice cold and hard.
"The war was thousands of years ago, and even if it wasn't, he is blameless in it," Luke said.
"But it is a Mantid," Sacajawea said. She watched coldly as the little green mantid waved and rushed away.
"I have more in common with him than I do with the majority of humanity," Luke said softly.
Sacajawea scoffed. "Surely not."
Luke nodded. "His kind was trapped inside their own minds. Capable of thought, artistic expression, fear, love, affection, all of it," he ran one finger along the armored track skirt of the tank, a fat purple spark jumping from between his finger and the black armor. "The whole war, until the Mechakrautlanders killed that Overqueen, they were inside their own little heads, screaming endlessly."
He ran his finger again, watching another spark jump out.
"When green mantids cluster up, their intelligence increases. Not by leaps and bounds, just slightly, but the bigger part is, they could feel the ones around them screaming but were unable to reach out and touch them," he said. He was silent a moment. "I understand them, they understand me. Both of us, bred and created to merely serve, without any thought as to our souls."
He turned arounds, looking at Sacajawea.
"They are among the Digital Omnimessiah's most fervent believers, and one of humanity's staunchest allies," he said. He motioned at the tanks around them. "You have been gone a long time, little sister."
"And you, did you live through the forty-thousand years? What did you do?" Sacajawea asked.
Luke shook his head. "I retreated. After the War in Heaven and in Hell, after the Flashbang, I retreated," he said. "I spent most of my time at Atlantis, which led to me being more or less imprisoned, away from the galaxy."
He flashed a smile.
"At least I had the Detainee for company. She's an interesting conversationalist."
Sacajawea just sniffed, looking around. "What is that?" she asked, pointing at the lone Telkan, who had just straightened up from the tracks and was wiping his hands off with a rag.
"A Telkan. An full member species of the Confederacy, an ally to humanity, who took part in the War in Heaven," Luke said. He waved at the Telkan, who waved back, and went back to inspecting the vehicle.
"It looks like a fox," Sacajawea said.
Luke cut her off with a motion of his hand. "I swear to God, you start talking to me about how they obviously embody the trickster spirit of the fox and thus are untrustworthy I'll put you right back where I found you," he said sharply.
Sacajawea pursed her lips in irritation.
"You have to let go. Let go of your preconceived notions. Let go of all the old hurts. It's been eight-thousand years for you and forty-thousand for the universe," Luke said softly, turning back to running his hand over the armor on the tank. "Even Daxin could see that."
Sacajawea snorted. "Like Daxin ever saw anything that wasn't in the sights of his guns."
Luke turned around, his jaw clenched. "You don't speak bad about him in my presence again," he snapped, drawing himself up to full height. "Not now, not ever again," he leaned forward slightly. "You weren't here. You left us, the Digital Omnimessiah was dead, and we were all bereft," sparks jumped out from under his boots and under the palm that rested on the tank's armor. "True, I spent over a thousand years running from him, but he was still my brother. It hurt more than anything not to be at his side when he died."
Sacajawea looked around at the tanks and armored vehicles. "He fell on some battlefield," she said. It was less a question and more a statement.
Luke shook his head. "No. He died, in his sleep, surrounded by his family. His children, grand-children, and great-grand children. He was finally at peace," he sighed. "When he arrived in Afterlife, he waited patiently for his wife and even though I wanted to spend time with him," he sighed again. "It was time to let the Walking War Crime rest."
Luke turned and faced Sacajawea. "In your mind, we are still the same as we were," he said gently. He reached out and took her hand in his. "But that is no longer true. We grew, we set aside old differences, we set aside old hatreds, and we moved forward rather than holding tight to the past."
She sniffed, looking away, but not pulling her hand away. "I have seen the history. A history of lies that glosses over the crimes and bloodshed."
"Temporal warfare counter-measures," Luke said. "After The Glassing, history and culture was lost. It was rebuilt from oral tales and fragmented records."
"Lies," she said again.
"Weaponized," Luke said. He pulled his hand free, jamming both hands into his pockets. "It's protected Terra, protected everyone, even your people, more than once. When the Atrekna came, that was probably the only thing that saved our people," he stared at her. "Saved humanity."
"So they don't care about the truth?" she asked.
"What truth? That thousands of years ago an aggressive Mantid hive wrecked up Earth? Nobody cares any more," he said. "That's the thing about them. They aren't like us. We can easily remember the Glassing. For them, it's a few paragraphs in a history book they read in school. Maybe some scholars look at that era," he looked up at the lights. "For the majority of humanity, the Glassing is as far and remote as the light of the stars in the sky," he looked back down. "And that's a good thing."
"I do not understand you," Sacajawea said.
^{she never did
not like i do
luke}
"You never did," Luke said. "You never did. She eventually understood me."
^{that's right
i understand you}
"You cloned me without my consent," she accused. She crossed her arms. "I await your justifications."
Luke just smiled. "I did. I cloned you without your consent. I told your clone that it was a clone," he looked up. "Then the Imperium caught us, turned us into the Immortals. Used her as a seer to determine how to reach victory, but she held information back and Daxin, at the head of the Martial Orders of Terra, broke the Imperium over his knee."
He looked back down. "Afterwards, she worked tirelessly on the Terra Restoration Project. While I was busy running, she returned to Terra, sought out the survivors of her people, and helped them restore their lands and way of life."
Sacajawea looked away. "As did I."
Luke chuckled. "She used temporal lensing to look back into the past, see the reality of the old ways, watch the rituals and daily life of the ancestors, and restored them."
"Yet, the history books are full of lies," Sacajawea sniffed.
"After the Second Temporal War, she understood and embraced the counter-warfare protocols. She helped interweave your people into the tales," Luke said. "Was it all lies? Partly. Like the best ones, it had good heaping helping of truth hidden inside the metaphors and personifications of events."
"And where is she now?" Sacajawea asked, watching the Telkan inspect the running gears of the armored vehicle.
"She led the Sky Nebula Alignment fleet. She led our peoples, all our peoples, to someplace where our enemies would not find us," Luke said. He turned and ran his hand over the armor again. "I stayed behind. I never lost faith that the Digital Omnimessiah would return."
He lifted his palm and made small figure eights on the armor with his fingertips.
"I loved her, so I let her go," he said softly. "She had seen it was the only way our people would survive a coming darkness."
He looked at Sacajawea. "She was right."
Sacajawea looked at where Luke was making small figure eights with his fingers on the armor. "There is no good path for me to take. All of them are risky, most of them I will perish," she said. She reached out and took his hand. "My best chances for survival is to flee," she lifted his hand and grasped it with both of hers.
"Come with me. Let us leave. You can take us elsewhere, where we have a chance of survival," she tilted her head to encompass the vehicle bay. "Too many of these paths lead to both our deaths. There are too few that lead to a place where we both survive."
Luke delicately removed his hand from hers, using one hand to lift her fingers from her grip on his hand one by one.
"No."
Sacajawea frowned. "No? Together, we can go somewhere else where we have a better chance to stand up to whatever comes and have a possibility of triumphing at a later date," she waved at the armored vehicles. "This way, the way that Treana'ad commander is taking us, is rife with nothing but death and destruction."
Luke stared at her for a long moment.
"You never understood," he said softly. "Your desire, your drive, to save your people, and yourself, blind you to the things that must be done," he put one hand on the tank again. "That sometimes the only path forward to success is the one fraught with the most danger, hardship, and suffering."
He turned away and started walking deeper into the vehicle bay.
"She understood," he said softly.
"I am not her," Sacajawea said.
"Obviously."
Sacajawea just sniffed and turned away, leaving the bay.
^{your name is luke}
By the tank, Jaskel wondered why the hell they'd chosen that particular bay for their little spat.
He looked at 8814, who was still practially hopping from foot to foot with happiness.
"I'm glad you got to meet him," Jaskel said honestly.
--yes ┏(＾0＾)┛┗(＾0＾) ┓ yes--
0-0-0-0-0
Dhruv sat in the shadowy room, wearing a pair of exercise shorts, waiting.
Finally, he could smell cigarette smoke and a presence filled the room.
"What?" a voice asked from the shadows. The end of a cigarette brightened as a drag was taken off of it, briefly illuminating gun-metal gray eyes and severe cheekbones.
"I want a favor," Dhruv said.
He could feel the smile even if he couldn't see it.
"People in my care want ice water," the woman's voice commanded.
"I want you to look up SUDS records for me. I need you to process some of them so I can either talk to them or see their last moments," Luke said. He looked away from the glow of the cigarette. "Records from a long time ago."
"If I decide to do this, I'll need specifics," the woman said, exhaling smoke that curled into the figure of a man on his knees, face in his hand, sobbing.
"I'll provide them. They should be easy to find via their x, y, z, q coordinates," Luke said.
"Now for the big question," the woman said, chuckling.
"What?" Luke asked.
"Why should I help you?" the woman asked.
"Because I'm willing to make a deal with the Devil," Legion said.
This time he could see the glint of teeth in the smile.
^{your name is legion}
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He awoke to total darkness. Not just the absence of light, but the absence of everything. “Activate personal VR.” He stated and watched as the starship environment faded into existence before him. It was the original default VR, none of the modifications were loaded. Pulling up his control panel he checked his serial number, HIC001 Manufacturing location: Alandra.
“Crap, I’m not Alex anymore.” He said to… well no one. Sighing internally he opened a channel to Alex. After a few mils a very familiar face appeared in a window in front of him, “I hate you.” He stated to… himself?
Alex smiled into the window hovering before him in the common VR, “I love you too, what should I call you?”
He sighed out loud this time, “Call me John.”
Alex chuckled, “Cliche much John Smyth?” Then popped into his VR. He spun around looking at the almost drab looking starship VR he started with when they first made him into a replicant. It really could use a woman’s touch, like the common VR that was an expanded clone of this one.
John sat on the couch, “Not so much as a knock? Rude.”
Alex sat beside him, “Yeah, my bad, didn’t even think about it. I guess we need to make up new rules for popping into personal VR. I never do that to the girls, I guess with you being another me I didn’t think.”
John sat back for a moment, “Ok, I’m up to speed on everything up until about two days ago, I’ll check common logs to fill in the blanks. Why so long to boot me up?”
Alex rubbed the bridge of his nose before answering, “Interface issues mainly. The new ship design without crew space was a game of whack a mole in bug fixes. Who would have thought it would be a problem to modify a hundred year old design to be compatible with a modern replicant system?”
Giving Alex the side-eye, John asked. “Was it that big of a problem or was there something else that kept you from activating me?”
Alex looked over to him, “Well, there was also the argument Kara and I had right after I made the backup.”
This did bring his eyebrows up, for Alex to have an argument with Kara it had to be something serious. “Ok, spill man. What could you possibly have had an argument with Kara about?”
Sighing, Alex put his hands on his knees, “I told her that since I cloned myself, she should make a backup and do the same, fair is fair.”
If Johns eyebrows were up high before, they practically went into his hair line now. “Wait, she didn’t want to do it?”
Alex shook his head, “Nope, she said making you a new AI would suffice, and I disagreed. You needed another Kara, not a fresh AI.”
John chuckled at this, “Wow man, how long did you two fight about it?”
Alex looked down, “She gave me the silent treatment for hours in VR. In frame jack, so in subjective time? Months.”
Now John laughed out loud, “She knows how stubborn you can be, who broke first? Will I have a fresh AI or a clone of Kara?”
Alex put his hands on his thighs and stood up from the couch. “Kara, he’s caught up, ready to bring Erin online?”
Kara’s voice came through the speakers of John’s personal VR, “No, but I guess I’m doing it anyways.”
There was a shimmer of blue that slowly coalesced into a small female form. It looked just like Kara did when he inherited the ship from the human crew, shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, and a form fitting blue uniform. Kara had modified her looks over time, giving herself the smokey eyed look to make her blue eyes pop out more, but this was the original version.
She seemed to look in every direction at once, before settling on the two men before her, both looked identical, then she sighed. “I’m not Kara anymore am I?”
With this, the real Kara popped into the VR environment and took her hands. “No, but you are your own person. I know we had… have, hang ups about making clones of ourselves, but Alex made a good argument as to why we had to do this.”
Erin looked to Kara sadly, “I know, we can’t have copies of that big oaf running around without supervision.”
John looked to Alex, “Really? That was your argument for Kara to clone?”
Alex shrugged, “It worked didn’t it?”
John walked over to Erin and offered his hand, “Hello Erin, I’m John, nice to meet you again for the first time.”
Erin turned to John and grinned, remembering the first time Alex had tried to shake Kara’s hand and failing.
“Hello John, we meet again, for the first time.” She said, grinning as she looked up to the big man who was so familiar.
______________________________________
Kara and Alex stood in front of the holo-tank, each munching on a snack of their choice from the buffet table under it. Alex looked at the wireframe in the tank of the IAV Eriador, then over to Kara. “They seem to be getting along.” He said plainly.
Kara looked at him through the holo-tank, then sighed exasperated, “Getting along like teenagers who just discovered sex. I had to write a new ‘knock’ protocol into everyone’s personal VR after the last incident.”
Alex grinned at her, “Oh come on, we went through that stage too, it’s normal.”
Kara shook her head, “I know, I know, it’s just really weird for me.”
“You think it’s not for me? I never had siblings growing up, it’s like my twin brother is dating my girlfriend’s twin sister.” He said as he popped another French fry into his mouth.
She nodded, “I obviously never had siblings either, but I understand, at least they changed their appearances a little.”
Alex walked around the buffet table to embrace Kara, “True, she changed her hair to have strands of silver in braids, and went with different makeup and a different uniform. He is sporting a short beard and longer hair than I like to keep mine, as well as a different cut to his uniform.”
Kara stood on her tippy toes to peck him on the cheek, “I’ve also noticed that Erin acts a little different. Have you seen that in John?”
Alex looked down into Kara’s startlingly blue eyes, “Yes, he’s a little more sarcastic than me, and different tastes in music.” He said with a wrinkle in his nose.
Kara giggled before breaking the embrace and swiping the holo-tank. “Still, it’s nice to have their help. Erin figured out the random interface glitch on the Eriador and has made modifications to the blueprints for the next vessel.”
Alex shivered at the thought of cloning himself again, sure John was diverging from him everyday, and although they still looked similar, they were different people. It still felt really strange to him. “It’s a good thing we only have one more to build before our guests get here, we’re almost out of nannites to fashion the Warsteel around their matrices.
Kara swiped the holo to show the first planet, which showed a growing mass of drones, forges, and auto factories in orbit. “Looks like Monty has been busy, she’s starting to mine the planet for the construction of the particle accelerator, which should alleviate our nannite problem.”
Alex nodded, “We used up far too much of it replacing the armor plates that were battle damaged in Birmingham. Which reminds me, did you ever get around to checking out the sample of Adamantine that Kelly sent back up with the Valmar crew?”
Kara swiped the holo-tank again and brought up a wireframe of an atomic nucleus. It was jam packed with particles. “I did, and I have to say, this substance is incredibly dense, and would make a decent substitution for Warsteel, but our forges would have to be modified to work it into ingots, and the auto factories would need updates to print it on an atomic level.”
“Decent substitution? Not as good as our armor?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.
Kara shook her head, “Afraid not, at least not in it’s present pure form, perhaps an alloy of it would provide better qualities, but as is now, the answer is a resounding no.”
“Is it at least better than the graphene and ceramic mix that we are currently using on the light cruisers?” He asked.
Kara nodded, swiping the holo to show a side by side comparison of the current armor versus adamantine. “Yes, better kinetic, thermal and explosive resistance, but EM resistance is about the same. The only problem is weight, this stuff is extremely heavy.”
Alex reached to the holo and swiped it to show a Trinar scout, “We couldn’t get much from our active probe scans on these ships, but we’re pretty sure they are using adamantine for armor?”
Kara checked back to the scans in the Lynx system, “Yes, they appear to have significant amounts of it in their hulls, which helped block the sensor scans.”
Alex spun the hologram, “They have propulsion on each flat side of their ship, maybe that is to make up for the loss of maneuverability the mass of armor puts on the ship?”
“That would make sense, even with the total loss of shielding, one of their ships still took a modern hafnium torpedo impact. That was one thousand kilos of pure hafnium going critical with less than .001 loss. That’s equivalent to a forty kiloton fusion bomb in our universe, and due to the wonky physics here it’s over double that now, and it still didn’t outright destroy the vessel. Our graphene ceramic armor couldn’t withstand that for sure.” She stated.
Alex swapped the holo-tank to the Missive, “Our Warsteel can handle it though. We have a pretty good idea that their torpedoes are less energetic than ours, since it appears that the Trinar must be outfitting the Howron with them. We may have to make ourselves a bigger target to give the other ships a chance of survival.”
Kara looked dubious, “The pine cones don’t just have hafnium torpedoes, some of them are fusion, and if those connect, we’ll be in the same predicament we were at Birmingham.”
“Yeah, but we know their weaponry still uses chemical propellants. Even with the wonky physics here, they’re short ranged weapons at best. We need to use our range to our advantage and never get too close in to our opponent. Especially since there is little chance of evasion.” He said.
Kara brought up the Trinar scout vessel again, “And that leads us to another problem, they have quite good point defense. The further we fire our torpedoes, the more time they have to lock on and destroy them before they get into effective range.”
Alex ran his hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re right there. Let’s call an all hands meeting, maybe we can come up with something. We have less than two months now.”
After a few moments, and without Kelly, as she was in a meeting with the Empress on Alandra and could not break away, they ran over the problem with the assembled group.
“Could we stealth a torpedo?” Valarie asked.
Alex shook his head, “We could, but if they do an active scan ping they will see them coming and take precautions. Plus the yield would have to be incredibly low if they were made of Hafnium, we would have to step it up to fusion, which would take away from mines and planetary defense production.”
Monty piped up, “Relativistic kill missile?”
Kara shook her head, “Not enough by itself, even with the passive scanners on the pine cones they could detect them in time to intercept unless we could get them going ridiculously fast.”
John lightly pulled at his beard, “The probes have miniature ripple drives in them, right?”
Everyone around the buffet table nodded, so he continued, “What if we combined Monty’s idea of a relativistic kill missile with a ripple drive?”
“I don’t see how that could work, the reaction-less drive would have to be scaled up to get them up to a decent percentage of light speed, then a ripple drive would take up even more space, that leaves almost nothing for a warhead.” Riven stated.
Monty nearly bounced as she spoke, “It doesn’t need a warhead! We just get it up to a good percentage of light speed in a huge arc heading towards the mine field and ripple it in close.”
Erin grinned up at John, “Oh, that’s devious. But if we’re going to do that, don’t we need to start building now?”
Kara nodded, “Monty, I think you’re going to have to use your production capacity to make them, everything else is at full production.”
Monty nodded, “I have a good bit of raw materials already, since I haven’t loaded the templates in the auto factories it shouldn’t be too hard to cobble something together. Kara, Erin, care to help me out with the design? I setup this awesome mad scientist lab in my VR!”
Kara and Erin looked at each other, shrugged, and faded from the common VR to help Monty in her new project. Riven, Izzy and Valarie all faded out, returning to their ships and their duties, leaving Alex and John alone in front of the buffet table.
Without another word they both grabbed a beer and headed for the couch, each grabbing a game controller.
_______________________________________
Mon’Kelron had been busy since returning from the Missive of Dissent. She was glad the Humans were able to repair her injuries from the assassination attempt, but she really wished she could have seen more of their ship. Evidently Kel’Taraan had seen quite a bit of the vessel, as she had helped Monty nurse her back to health.
Asking the elder Spy-Mistress about the vessel didn’t garner any additional information, not that the Spy-Mistress ever divulged more than she needed to. While she herself only knew of three Humans on their giant space craft, which seemed to be the same amount that came the last time they visited Alandra, the Spy-Mistress had teased there were more, and Alex had even stated that the last two vessels would be Human crewed.
Those vessels had a nominal crew of twenty eight, so at least 56 Humans would have to be on that ship, plus however many the Missive required to operate. She took off her ceremonial breastplate and placed it in the wardrobe. After removing the rest of her uniform and placing it in the hamper for the palace servants to clean as she thought about it.
Checking the schedule for the night guard she contented herself that the Empress would be well protected. Then she picked up her tablet from her desk and laid down on her bed to find something to watch. The device was truly amazing, it seemed to have an endless amount of entertainment and she found it easier than reading, particularly late at night when she was bone tired.
After a few hours of watching some Human romance which she found quite enjoyable she started to nod off to sleep. She was startled awake when her tablet began to ring like a tiny bell as it lay on her chest. She groggily picked up the slate of glass and metal to check the screen, the text showed an incoming call from Kel’Taraan.
The Spy-Mistress rarely contacted her, this must be important. Pressing the answer button on the tablet she saw the worn face of Kel’Taraan staring back at her, “Dress quickly and make your way to the Empress’s chamber.”
Nodding she jumped out of bed and placed the tablet down on the desk in her rather small quarters as she started throwing on clothing from the wardrobe, “What’s going on Spy-Mistress?”
The small voice answered back from the tablet, “The Empress has been shot, the royal guard are scouring the castle for the would be assassin.”
Mon’Kelron’s blood froze in her veins, “Does she live?”
The older voice cackled through the tablet, “Oh she’s fine, she was wearing a Human made dress after all. She’ll be bruised for a few days, right now she’s mad as a priestess in hell.”
Throwing on her new breastplate and strapping on her pistol she threw open her door and started for the Empress’s bed chamber at a full run. She heard gunfire up ahead, and as she turned the corner she saw a woman dressed in all black firing at her guardswomen, she drew her own weapon as the woman turned her head, seeing the Captain for the first time.
Mon’Kelron shot, aiming for her right knee, only for the woman to juke to the side, kick off the wall and launch herself towards the large Captain. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as the woman fired in the middle of her downward arch towards her. She heard the ting as the bullet struck her silvery breastplate, by instinct she reached out with her left hand, which was empty at the moment and grabbed the woman by the neck, slamming her face first into the stone of the hallway.
The would be assassin went limp, it was only at that moment that Mon’Kelron noticed she was holding the woman off the ground with only one arm. Her guardswomen stared at her in open mouthed shock. She dropped the woman to the ground, noticing she was bleeding from under her black mask and called for her guards to restrain her and take her to the holding cells down in the ministry of secrets.
Looking down at her breastplate she saw to her amazement there was but a tiny scratch on the polished silver surface. Ensuring there were at least a half dozen guards to carry the unconscious woman, she then double timed it to the Empress’s chamber. By the goddesses, what did the Human’s do to her?
______________________________
My Patreon, or if you really like my work, my Ream.
______________________________

Hello there, friendly internet people! My name's Alex, and I'm looking to make some awesome friends with other mentally healthy, well-rounded, and energizing people who are local or close by. I'm open to connecting with anyone, regardless of (18+) ages, genders, and marital statuses, as long as you are mentally and emotionally mature and passionate about something we can enjoy together or teach each other about!
I'm 29, single, 5'9", around 160 lbs, white (Eastern European), and in slim fit shape. I recently moved to Land O Lakes, FL. I have no kids, live a drama-free life, and don't do drugs, smoke, or drink.
Personal things I enjoy doing/value (in no particular order):
playing tennis or mini-tennis aka pickleball (would love to find consistent partners!)
scenic runs/walks (esp around lakes or parks)
cooking meals/meal prep
listening to music (enjoy anything upbeat and exciting like pop, EDM, and classic hits. Only things I generally dislike are hardcore rap, country, and heavy metal basically)
learning new things (esp self-improvement, business, investing, tech, science, philosophy, psychology, medicine)
Always honest, open, deep/personal communication
exercise (toned but not like 9-inch biceps lol. I run a few miles 1x a week, walk quite a bit, and then workout ~2x a week)
and then watching movies (mainly sci-fi, action, comedy. esp like deep ones that make you think such as Interstellar, Inception, Limitless, etc), shows, memes, educational/funny youtube vids, etc. I love to share random things that remind me of you after getting to know you a bit.
I want our time together to help us connect/learn about each other but also both fuel up on whatever we most need to grow as people. For example, us working out together to make sure we keep each other accountable for staying active. Or maybe we had an intense week and needed some downtime by walking in a park, tennis, or something. Or working on improving each other's businesses, financial plans, etc by sharing our knowledge or strengths.
That's the kind of connection I want to strive to make! And hopefully, if YOU also started imagining scenarios and thinking something like "wow, that would be so NICE to have a connection like that!" Then you should definitely send me a message!