How does propane converted ford truck work

I’m 10wpp and I was due to go back to work at 8wpp since that was when my short term disability ended, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with my baby.. I have been contemplating since I was 6 months pregnant what I was going to do…. And I just don’t know what to do!!! I’m panicky and stressing all the time because idk what to do! I work from home but I make 300+ calls a day and my job will not allow me to have a baby crying in the background so I can’t take care of my own baby while I’m working.. my job says just because it’s work from home is not a replacement for daycare…. But I cannot afford daycare at all! Out here it’s like an entire paycheck work so I would literally be working simply to pay day care and I feel like that’s redundant and it’d be like the same as me being a sahm…. But my partner quit his job in July the day we found out I was pregnant because he wanted to pursue his dreams of owning his own business. So he did that. For 10 months he did that. And he made money, but he never made enough to pay the bills. So I paid the bills. I’ve been paying all the bills since July… and he was keeping up with his certain bills like his truck and phone, but around November he stopped being able to pay for those so I started having to go into savings to pay those bills…. Now he tried to get a regular job about 2 weeks but that didn’t work out already and he quit and now he wants to pursue his lifelong dream of being a truck driver. So he wants to go to school so he can start a career and take care of us and pay everything so I can be a sahm…. But idk what I’m supposed to do in the mean time …. Idk how I’m supposed to go to work … and take care of baby.. when we can’t afford daycare and I’m still the only source of money since I have savings ….. but right now I don’t have anything coming in for income and neither does my partner ……. And he is not able to care for our baby while I work …. He’s just not capable. He can’t handle the crying. He can’t do it. So I’m the only option. But someone has to make money. I just don’t Know what to do anymore.

Dodge Hornet.
Have you ever driven a new Ford Escape? It sucks. It makes me wonder who would drive one and with a clear mind think that they just bought a nice car for themselves. Fumbling through the touchscreen to raise the climate, haptic amnesia on how to raise fan speed. Watching it lag through your speech command while the rear occupant warning chimes a little too loudly.
Compared to the Ford Escape, the Dodge Hornet is a nice car. I can practically end my review here because this is probably the only bar that Dodge Hornet buyers want cleared.
When I drop trucks off at the detailer shop, sometimes I’ll spot the Dodge Diplomat that the owner of the shop owns. Clean, pretty, angular. I understand why people got those things, why Dodge used to be the BMW of the American automotive market.
Nowadays, Dodge calls to mind Dodge Journey drivers with a fucked up bumper and a tailgating habit. RAM owners who have set up a contraption of cognitive dissonance into thinking the exorbitant and unnecessary costs of ownership are made up for. Whatever the fuck the Nitro is I saw one parked in the grassy park area surrounding public housing.
Yet this does not track for the Hornet. The Hornet is too civilized. Not a natural civility I might add, the suck-up corpo kind. Dress shirts not tucked in to their overpriced jeans with a worn belt. Well groomed beard, but strange hair that hides their baldness (despite how good they would look if they just committed). A jeery girlfriend who just flatly agrees with everything they say. They’re one mother figure away from becoming a successfully civil mediocre douchebag: but in this stretched analogy the mother figure would be an Alfa Romeo badge.
The turn signal stock doesn’t click into place, you just push it up fully and hope it registered as the permanent signal. In an Alfa Romeo, this is a quirk you’ll get used to that differentiates the car. In a Dodge, this is fucking unacceptable. The driving dynamics are a strict, firm pull that shifts a little off. In an Alfa, that’s exactly the kind of middle-brow titillation you seek. In a Dodge, it’s underpowered. The interior is comfortable enough, premium economy stuff. In an Alfa, that's just fine. In a dodge, well, you expected poo and you got slate.
Dodge Hornet: official car of not being a dodge.
I understand that’s an obvious, inane point to make. I understand intellectually all the reasons why Dodge has ended up in this situation. I understand that this and the Durango are the only cars that Dodge sells (since RAM got spun off), meaning this is 50% of the brand’s identity now. I understand that dodge is living on dire necessity and economic realism right now.
And that’s what pisses me off. I make these excuses because for some reason I want Dodge to succeed. I shouldn’t care. Especially as a Canadian I shouldn't care. Yet every time I think of the Dodge brand, I think of letting my dad down.
Dodge Hornet: official car of copying off your friend’s homework and getting straight Cs.

My truck broke down on the way down to the beach, in a little Podunk town with a trailer for a courthouse and a field for a church. This is not some figurative bullshit. I mean it. There was a large marble cross in a field and in front of it was rows and rows of pews, facing a folding table with a white tablecloth. I imagined the preacher used a bullhorn to conduct services.
Needless to say, this town didn’t strike me as a place firmly situated in the twenty-first century, so I was quite astonished at the technologically advanced interior I encountered when I entered the local watering hole- on the outside the typical trappings of a dive bar, but on the inside, futuristic furnishings and automated service.
Employment was strictly relegated to robots. The bartender was a robot. The waitresses were robots, and the maître d, or bouncer- don’t know which- was a robot. He was thicker and taller than the rest but very genial in manner and speech.
“May I take your jacket sir?” it asked.
“I don’t have a jacket. It’s ninety degrees outside.”
“How silly of me. Yes, of course. Why would you have a jacket? Habit, I guess. You are the first customer since winter.”
I was quite surprised to hear this because scattered throughout the bar were men and women that I assumed were biologically classified as human beings. Yet, none of them were coherent. Their heads were buried in their folded arms, either unconscious or asleep.
“Winter? How long have these people been here?”
“Since winter.” He stared at me with his three robotic eyes. These synthetic beings were slender and quite attractive. They were constructed to look like humans with the exception of the third eye centered in their foreheads and the artificiality of their monotone voices.
The walls flashed different scenes of nature. On one wall was a video panning through a cascade of purple mountains. Another one was a seascape with pink sand beaches. The air was permeated with a smell of cinnamon and pine.
“Would you like a drink?”
“I need a mechanic. I’m broke down. I need to get back on the road.”
“Headed to the beach sir?”
“Yes.” As soon as I said that I was visually transported to the beach with pink sand. The waves were folding gently into the shore, echoing a peaceful sound of crashing water. I turned and looked all around me. I was no longer in the bar, but on a beautiful foreign beach.
“Lonely, I surmise.” The robot snapped its fingers. People appeared, crowded around, immensely interested in me.
“Hey Chris, how you doing?” one shouted. Another commented on how well I look. “You’re the best!” exclaimed a third. The comments were numerous and affable.
“Too much sir?” the robot asked.
“Yes, amazing, but I know bullshit when I hear it. Again, is their someone who can fix my car?”
“Well, yes. System 472, she is well acquainted with human modes of transportation, among other things. She is a full-service robot, if you know what I mean.” He nudged me with his elbow and winked his third eye.
I was transported back to the bar. A feminine robot was standing in front of me.
“Hello sir. I am System 472. How can I service you?”
“I just need my car fixed. Can you do that?”
“Yes, but first why don’t you have a drink.”
“No, I’m ready to get down the road. If you can’t fix my car, then I’ll go find someone who can.”
“Every human that resides in this town is presently in this bar. None are available to help you.”
The scene yet again changed before my eyes. It was an instant flash, a subliminal vision of a theater of seats with a multitude of people seated next to robots, electrical cords connecting each to the other. One particular sight stuck out to me: an elderly woman, head slumped down, with a cord extending from the back of her skull to the side of a robotic man. A flashing white light was emanating from the top of its head.
“Sir?” It grabbed me by the shoulder and escorted me to the bar. The female robot pushed me down into an empty barstool. A holographic image of Patrick Swayze was sitting next to me singing She’s Like the Wind. A robotic bartender with a curled-up mustache slid a highball glass of green liquid towards me.
“Sorry sir,” said the bartender, “but he is broken.”
“So, I’ll have to hear that song all night? Now I know I need to leave.”
“No worries, sir. A few sips of this concoction and everything will be alright,” it said as the bartender tapped the rim of the glass with its index finger.
The glass was frigid, almost too cold to handle. I lifted it up to my lips and took a sip. A warm feeling gently trickled down my throat and into my stomach. My whole body tingled, and I was enamored with everything around me; I was in a state of immense pleasure, both physically and mentally. I gulped the rest of the soothing liquid down and laid my head on the bar.
Patrick Swayze’s singing slowly faded away. I was in darkness, maybe in a womb, whatever the case, it was a comforting darkness, not something to be feared. I never wanted to leave.
“Sir, we have a task for you.”
I lifted my head and forced my eyes open. The maître d robot was standing beside me with its hand on my shoulder. For the first time, I noticed that it was wearing a large black bowtie, ridiculously large. I laughed.
“Yes, it is ridiculous. I quite agree, sir, but back to the matter at hand.”
“Yes, my dear gentleman,” I answered. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Ah, you are so agreeable. Yes, as I said, we have a rather bizarre task, or favor, I should say, that we need from you. We will pay you handsomely, not in money mind you, but in wishes or fantasies. For you see, we can control the mind, make it believe anything we want it to believe. If you want to be famous, we can create that for you. Whatever you want. The details are inconsequential to us. In return, you have to endure a little gruesomeness every so often.”
“I need to go. I appreciate everything.” I tried to get up, but the robot pushed me back down against the bar.
“I can’t let you leave. Either you help or you become food… or energy- correctly speaking.”
“Food?”
“We are bound by the atmosphere of this ship. We can’t leave, but dare I say, we have accumulated quite a bit of trash.”
It grabbed me by the forearm and pulled me towards a door opposite the bar. The robot pushed opened the door. A foul stench of death and rot permeated the air. I coughed and vomited on the floor.
“Yes, gruesome. We have, unfortunately, olfactory senses as well as you do. We are only part robot. A form satisfactory for the preservation of our species, yet not sophisticated enough to rid us of our primal behaviors, and we have depleted this town, our food source for some time now.”
It forced me down the stairs and into a dimly lit basement. I was befuddled. Even though I was below the ground, the walls of the basement seem to extend beyond the height of the bar upstairs. Stacked in one corner was an enormous pile of bodies, humans shriveled and drained of their insides. Their faces were sunken in, and their ribs were protruding through their flesh.
“In some regards, we are similar to your fly species. In other ways we are not. They are immune to decay. We feast as they do, but we are sickened by decomposition. In short, we need you to dispose of the shells of these poor creatures. Nothing else is edible.”
“May I have another drink,” I asked.
“Certainly sir. I know it’s a difficult proposal and we will give you plenty of time to deliberate, but to be honest, the decision is two-fold…”
“I know, food or assistance.”
“Yes sir, aptly surmised.”
It led me upstairs back to the bar. Another green elixir was placed in front of me. Patrick Swayze was glitching, moving back and forth singing over and over again, “she’s like the wind,” the piano repeating a caterwauling melodic theme. The bartender looked different now. Its body was still the same, but its head resembled a fly’s head, with large red compound eyes, antenna, and a long sharp probiscis extending from the bottom of its head.
“Sorry sir, but I could no longer put on pretenses. That damned mask is hot. Drink up, you’ll feel better.”
I grabbed the glass and headed to an empty table by the door. I knew I had no chance to escape but I didn’t want to be near the bartender. I was uneased to say the least.
Far away from the bar, I could hear a different type of music playing, composed of instruments I had never heard. The melody was both alarming and beautiful. I ruminated on the possibility of being happy and satisfied with working for a bunch of alien insects. I would on occasion have to endure hell, but for the most part, I would be absorbed in whatever life I chose.
As I was lost in fantasy and thought, stuck between acceptance and resistance, I heard the door open. A woman had pushed it slightly open without entering.
“Hello, I need help. Broken down.”
I ran toward the door and pushed her back outside.
“What the hell?”
“Get out of here,” I yelled as I ran past her.
To my surprise, she followed without hesitation. Of course, whether she ran or not was no concern of mine. I was getting the hell out of there. I ran until I got back to my truck.
Out of breath, the woman inquired, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but you don’t want to be in there.”
A horn blew and then there was a rumbling. The bar lifted up into the air dragging grass and mud high into the sky. Below the bottom of the building were four larger thrusters, belching out fire and smoke. The bar lifted higher, then shot up like a bullet into the sky, far beyond the clouds.
“What the hell?” the woman asked. “You just saved my life.”
“No, you saved me.”
“What do we do now?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. Instinctively, I got back in my truck and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, the most beautiful music I had ever heard.
“You were broken down too?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Do you need a ride.”
She nodded her head yes and hopped in on the passenger side. I sharply turned the steering wheel and did a U-turn in the middle of the road. In a short time, we arrived at her red convertible sports car.
“Nice car,” I said.
“Thanks.” She jumped out and got into her car. I waited. I heard the engine turn over. In my rear-view mirror, I saw her car pulling up beside me. I rolled down the window.
“Where you headed?” I asked.
“To the beach,” she replied. “Want to stop at a bar on the way down?”
“Hell no,” I replied, “but hopefully I’ll see you on the beach.”
I never did see her. A shame really, but then again, I have my limits. I’m not a prudish man but it’s always been a policy of mine not to get involved with women you meet at a bar, especially, one full of insect, human-eating aliens. It’s just a bad omen.

I'm a noob with traveling and booking hotels so apologies in advance if these are dumb questions. I'm traveling in November from USA and I'm debating between booking direct vs with a 3rd party. I have a question about booking direct and one about booking with a 3rd party.

1. How does payment work when booking directly? I went directly to a hotel site that had english which was nice but some things were kinda weird (like asking if my arrival time is between 15:00-29:00). Then it took me to payment thru credit card and gave me my total in Yen. Would they just convert it to USD and it'll just charge my credit card like any other normal payment? It also gives me an option to pay at the hotel, but how would I pay at the hotel? Do I just give them my credit card, or do I give them a whole wad of cash? lol
   
2. When do 3rd parties book the actual reservation? I looked on Agoda and it says I don't have to pay until 5 days before my check-in date. Does that mean they book the hotel about right now? Or do they book the hotel 5 days before my check-in? How do I also go about confirming I have a reservation for a hotel? Can I contact the hotel directly or do I still need to go through the 3rd party?
   

I first encountered Kyle in the summer of 2021, as I began my first full time position as a 911 EMT. I was three months into what I considered an absolute dream job. Best of all, I worked in an area of the city slow enough to study for medic school. Our prime directive as basic life support in one of the most heavily trafficked business and tourist areas of the city was to ensure the undomiciled population remained mostly out of sight.
Kyle’s prime directive was get unreasonably high off whatever street drugs he could find, then sob hysterically when someone invariably took issue with his behaviour whilst on said urban pharmaceuticals. On this beautiful early autumn day, Kyle decided to relieve himself behind some parked vehicles on a side street approximately 200 feet from the entrance to our hospital ambulance bay. Unfortunately, his decision making was not the most acute at this time, and so he seemingly did not realise he’d de-trousered himself in full view of children’s preschool. As one would expect, the Caribbean nannies and peppy pre-k master’s degrees didn’t appreciate the free show, and our friends from law enforcement arrived shortly to dispatch the scoundrel.
When I found Kyle, he was handcuffed by the police, right by the cars where he’d been attempting to perform that most human of acts. His belt was indeed undone, and his pants were sagging around his hips. He was thin, as most all addicts are, and dishevelled, but young enough to pass as a crusty or a punk that had maybe just gotten a little too high. He was crying uncontrollably, of course, and excreting large amounts of mucus and saliva, which he was unable to wipe away in his present predicament.
The police told me why they were called - a strange man had pulled his pants down near young children. It was obvious what actually transpired, thus, the police had no interest in actually arresting this man for lewd conduct. Above all, he was annoying. So, he was an EDP.
Kyle is not an easy person to talk to when he gets like this. He’s not violent. He is not angry. He is profoundly and deeply in despair. He’s hysterical. It is very difficult to reason with him when he is in this spiralling state. Immediately I saw what the police saw, and I understood why I was here. My job was to make this man disappear from view for 30-45 minutes, only to reappear outside the hospital immediately, or perhaps a few hours later (if we’re lucky.) Kyle was in handcuffs, but he was not under arrest. He was not in police custody. He had every right to refuse treatment and transport to the hospital.
And yet.
If we don’t disappear Kyle, the people who called 911 will think the police don't respond to emergencies. They will think EMS doesn’t treat people who obviously need help. Never mind decisional capacity. And so we “convince” Kyle, as he’s cornered in the back of an ambulance with two EMTs, two police officers, and his hands cuffed behind his back. We say it without actually saying it. Jail or hospital.
The funny thing is, he could call our bluff. I had a patient do just that once. I refused to transport him because he was fully coherent and not under arrest. The police demanded I call my lieutenant, who told us to transport the patient immediately on arrival, without assessment or report. His words: “What are you doing? Transport him. He’s an EDP.” It was an awkward ride to the hospital with that officer and that patient.
So Kyle really doesn’t have a choice here. Neither do I. Hospital it is. I plead with Kyle to try to calm down at the hospital, telling him they’ll release him if he can just calmly explain the misunderstanding. This fails, of course, and as I’m cleaning the saliva out of my truck I watch Kyle run crying into the street. Another AMA.
The second time I saw Kyle I was standing in the triage line at a hospital uptown. It was spring of 2024, and I worked in a busier area for the previous six months. Although I didn’t feel wholly confident as a two year medic, I knew I was better than most of my coworkers through the sheer fact I wasn’t yet burned out. I wanted to treat, and I knew when it was necessary.
Kyle entered the triage line behind me on another crew’s stretcher. He had a police escort and his right hand was cuffed to the rail of the stretcher. The crew had lowered it, and I soon saw why. He was furiously scratching at his lower legs, especially the right. His calves were raw and bloody. His hands were covered in blood. The handcuff was preventing him from effectively getting at the lateral aspect of his right calf, but he was emphatic about the need to scratch it. He screamed that his leg was itchy. He screamed “Help me!” - an all too familiar cry in the emergency department, so oft wailed it is rarely taken seriously. (If they have the breath to scream like that, they can’t actually be dying, right?) I watched the scene in disgust, though my ire was not directed at Kyle, it was at the indifferent crew members transporting him. Fortunately, my patient had a severe case of angioedema and his eyes were quite literally swollen shut, so he did not have to bear witness to the carnival of horror.
Passersbys in the ED looked on with revulsion. He continued to scream to be released so he could scratch himself. Finally, when a bed became available, the officers acquiesced and uncuffed him so he could roll into the hospital bed. He took the opportunity to absolutely demolish what little skin was left on his shins. Blood dripped down from the bed railing. The officer looked at him, then turned to clean her bloodied handcuffs. He cried out in ecstasy, “You don’t understand, this feels so good!”
As I finished my triage, a physician approached Kyle and attempted to calm him. He offered to care for his wounds, and Kyle remained a delirious scratching machine. He needs to be sedated, I thought. As we loaded our stretcher into the truck, Kyle stumbled out of the ambulance bay with security tailing him. He plopped down on the sidewalk and continued to scratch his legs. I walked over to him and asked him why he didn’t stay. He said he couldn’t stop scratching. I told him if he went back inside they would help him. Security shook their heads at me. It was my off time. I got in the truck to my eagerly awaiting partner and we headed back to base.
The third time I met Kyle was the first time I really met him. I was scrolling on my phone in a busy shopping area about a month later. My partner was off trying to find a bagel store. A tourist approached my window and said he thought there “might be a gentleman needing some help.”
“Oh, okay! Did he say he wanted an ambulance?” I said, brightly, chipperly.
“... Well, no. But his leg…”
extra chipper “Oh, okay! I’ll go ask him then!”
I step out of the truck, fully expecting to see an urban outdoorsman minding his own business, enjoying the sunshine with some exposed cellulitis. Instead, I see Kyle. He’s wearing a shearling coat and grey sweatpants around his ankles. He’s filthy. The lower halves of his legs are open wounds. From afar, they appear to be burns. He’s shuffling into traffic with one socked foot, one shoed, where there is no crosswalk. I’m not sure what’s up with Kyle and always having his pants down, but I assume his open wounds are too painful to wear clothing over top of. I find myself making a lot of excuses for Kyle.
I don gloves and walk into the stopped traffic and approach him. He’s gentle, calm, and docile. High. Or sick? I lead him to the ambulance. He insists he doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but agrees to let me dress his legs. My partner has returned, unable to find bagels. He flags our unit for the injury. I asked Kyle how old he is. 35. As I’m walking him over to the truck, a police officer approaches. She’s on a private detail, but offers to stick around. I tell her I appreciate it, and that he’s not a violent guy but he does get emotional. I set up our stair chair and drape a sheet over it. He is grateful to sit down.
I start by slowly removing the filthy sock on his right foot, and the grimy sweatpants from around his ankles. The right leg has approximately 4% BSA of damage, half as much on the left. He also has a half dollar sized wound on the back of his left hand. I’m guessing scabies, or whatever drugs he took made him feel buggy. The odour isn’t too foul, so I’m hoping the wound has been cleaned relatively recently, but there is dirt accumulating already. He mumbles a lot. He mentions a dead wife.
I place moistened sterile gauze over his more damaged leg, and secure it with roller gauze. The guy parked behind us has gotten out of his black SUV to watch closer. I dress his left hand. All the while, my partner and I and the police officer attempt to convince Kyle to go to the hospital. He doesn’t want to go. Why not. They only keep him for 6 hours. He only wants to go if they keep him for weeks. We tell him they might keep him for weeks, his wounds are severe. He says he doesn’t think they will, he was just there. I tell him I’ll make a phone call and take him to whatever hospital he wants to go to. He says no. I tell him he will get a blood infection and die if his wounds aren’t properly cared for. The SUV guy chimes in that he probably needs antibiotics. Kyle says he already has MRSA. I mentally remind myself to decon the shizam out of the stair chair when we’re done. I tell him I can give him something for the ride to help calm him down. He says no. I tell him I can give him Fentanyl for the pain in his legs if he comes with us, he refuses. He doesn’t want to have to walk back. My partner attempts to take vital signs, but Kyle doesn’t like the feeling of the cuff on his arm.
My partner asks me what I want to do. I say I want to take him. He's a high risk RMA and refuses to speak with a physician for approval. We call for a lieutenant and prepare to sedate and transport. Kyle stands up, pulls up his pants, and starts to cry a bit. He says we’re the nicest EMTs he’s ever had. He says he wishes we were always his EMTs. He gets an erection. He sniffles a bit, and starts to shuffle away. I tear my bus apart looking for an extra pair of hospital socks to give him, but I come up empty handed. The lieutenant pulls up and Kyle has already turned the corner.
I ask my partner, a critical care paramedic with 20+ years on the job, how long he thinks Kyle has to live.
“Eh. A couple weeks.”

Hey guys, sorry If this is the wrong place for this type of post but I'm looking for some input to maybe try and make me feel at ease or something?
Basically I was in the market for used Ford F150, and back in February I found one that was absolutely perfect at a dealership. It was literally the exact truck that I wanted, 2017, 5.0, 6 Speed trans, 4x4, 66k miles, pretty decently equpped trim. Only gotcha with it is that the dealership had just gotten it from auction a day prior, so they hadn't pushed it through service yet, but yet they had it listed on their site and showed it to me. I fell in love with the truck and got approved financing so I put a down payment on it and they told me they woild call me in a few days when it was fully serviced and ready to go.
Well the very next day my salesman calls me and tells me that they couldn't sell me the truck because they found an issue with the transfer case that they weren't going to fix, and that they were going to send it back through the auction. But he told me they had a Gray 2019 with the 5.0 that they could bring in from their other location an hour awayfor me to see, I said sure why not so they brought it to the dealer and I went to check it out. It was a nice truck and I liked it at the moment, but really it was because I was hyperfixated on leaving with a new truck.
So I ended up buying it and leaving with it, and the buyers remorse ensued almost immediately. This truck isn't at all what I was looking for. It just isn't equipped the way I wanted at all, it's basically like one step up from a work truck and I really don't like the way it looks and maybe it's stupid but I really wanted a bit more. But then I get these random moments where I look at the truck and I think to myself, "ah this truck is okay I like it" and then like an hour later I'm back to wishing I would have just took my deposit back and waited for the right one to come along. It's almost like I'm bi-polar but only with my vehicle, and I don't know how to cope with it. But my main gripe with it aside from equipment package is that it has the 10 Speed transmission that I purposely told myself I was going to avoid when I started my truck search. Why I was dumb enough to buy it anyways I still don't know.
The worst part of the story is, not too long ago, that first 2017 popped up for sale again at another dealership, about an hour south of me, my curiosity got the better of me so I called the dealership and asked them and they said that yes it did have an issue with the transfer case, but it was all fixed and good as new. "Crap!" I thought to myself, had I just been patient I could have gotten the truck I truly wanted and not a truck I settled for because I'm an idiot.
The only thing I'm battling with myself now is that the first truck is still for sale, and I keep getting the urge to take my current truck down there and see what they will give me for trade in value and then just trade it for that first truck that I wanted all along. I can't stop myself from having this impulsive and invasive thoughts even though I feel some would say it would be stupid to trade an F150 for another F150 that's 2 years older, albeit way nicer and with the more reliable powertrain. Just looking for input and also to vent my frustrations. Mods can delete this if its the wrong sub for this type of post, let me know what you guys think.

PREFACE:
I’m doing this because I like discussions about this game. Across various platforms I’m seeing recurring questions and topics I feel like need some additional insights or interpretations so here’s my best attempt at fleshing everythingalmost everything out. I’ll try to do it in order, chaptestory-wise.
OBVIOUS DISCLAIMERS ARE OBVIOUS:
Spoiler warning. I’m going to reference information across the Compilation of FF7 (including, but not limited to, original FF7, Crisis Core, Advent Children, the books, and even Before Crisis).
Many of the following are interpretations. If something is confirmed, I will reference it.

I'm skipping Chapter 1's flashback because I don't want to get into for now
CHAPTER 2: A NEW JOURNEY BEGINS
How does Sephiroth manifest before Cloud in the inn at Kalm?
Tifa invites Cloud out to talk. As he follows, Sephiroth manifests before him before trying to mind@#$% him by planting the seed that Tifa isn't real, that he "killed her. So who is she?" We've seen time and again that Sephiroth manifests himself by using the black robes as vessels, so how does he show up now?
Broden. The innkeeper, former SOLDIER, who just so happens to be resting downstairs. Suffering from degradation at the time, and eventually fully converts to a black robe sometime before Chapter 11.
https://preview.redd.it/ficw3tcyz3yc1.png?width=997&format=png&auto=webp&s=f89aef14f510bc8815e29c3b2d623c65486da23e
I. Cloud first sees a vision of Sephiroth downstairs at the inn II. Afterward, Cloud sees a resting Broden downstairs
Where is Tifa's scar?
Tifa tries to prove her identity with the scar she received from Sephiroth five years ago. I've seen people say that the reason we don't see the actual scar is to keep players guessing, staying suspicious. What if Sephiroth is actually right?
👀
Yes, Tifa does have a scar, and it's across her sternum meaning it's sandwiched between her honkers. The novel Traces of Two Pasts detailed the exact location:

"You've sustained a severe laceration from some manner of very sharp object. I hate to say it, but if I had to guess, it was probably a sword. The wound stretches from your left upper chest..."
Dr. Oranye reached one finger to her own chest, indicating a point just below her clavicle, then slowly drew the finger down and across, stopping just below her right breast.
"...to just about here. It was deep enough to reach bone. In fact, it managed to shatter a portion of your sternum."
- Dr. Oranye to Tifa, Traces of Two Pasts (English translation)

First, considering this game is rated T, there is no way to see the full scar without shooting the rating up another step.
Second, it’s unlikely any character’s clothes are modeled separately from the actual character model. It’s part of the reason why you don’t see characters sleep in pajamas. Sure sometimes gloves come off, and Aerith takes off her jacket, but that’s about it. So the work required to animate Tifa’s top as she rolls it up will actually be way more work than we expect. Coupled with the previous point… sorry horndogs, keep dreaming.
Why did Sephiroth save Cloud from the Midgardsormr?
At the end of the Midgardsormr boss battle, Cloud gets dragged underwater by the serpent, only for Sephiroth to magically show up and launch it out into the air where it ultimately lands by getting impaled on a tree.
So… Sephiroth wasn’t there at all. In the OG you don’t see Sephiroth kill the Midgar Zolom (as it was known back in the day). The party just sees the corpse already impaled and assumed it was Sephiroth. Maybe it was back then. Maybe not. But in Rebirth, it could be interpreted that Cloud was the one who dealt the killing blow. We see Cloud caught in the Midgardsormr’s coil first.
Cloud completely trapped in the Midgardsormr's grip
Moments later, Cloud begins blacking out before Sephiroth starts to manifest. Do note that in this scene, Cloud is nowhere to be found. He is not only released from the grip, but he's missing altogether, deliberately hidden from sight.
Masamune no Cloud
And finally, "Sephiroth" sends the Midgardsormr flying with what appears to be a vortex-like attack. This attack is remarkedly similar to Cloud's level 3 limit break "Finishing Touch."
https://preview.redd.it/utvs7l2jz3yc1.png?width=997&format=png&auto=webp&s=d78c5a7a2afc52e2a4f4d63b951defcbe23746f1
I. "Sephiroth's" vortex attack II. Cloud's Finishing Touch limit
Later on we know that Sephiroth is able to possess Cloud at times, essentially juicing up his combat abilities and turning him into a bloodthirsty killing machine, butchering everything in his path. This scene could simply be foreshadowing.
CHAPTER 3: DEEPER INTO DARKNESS
What did Aerith mean by "Standard Course"?
At the entrance of the Mythril Mines, Cloud jokes that he'll lead the way for 2000 gil. Aerith quips that 2000 gil is "enough for her Standard Course twice," calling back to Madam M's massage services back in FF7 Remake
We appreciate Madam M's services
What did Tseng mean by "I suggest you look in the mirror"?
After the bout against Rude and Elena, Tseng shows up and suggests that Barret "look in the mirror" regarding any blame on the events that have occurred. Both Avalanche and the Turks are violent and have blood on their hands. While the Turks ultimately carried out Shinra's orders to drop the Sector 7 plate back in FF7 Remake, it was an over-the-top retaliation against Avalanche sabotaging multiple mako reactors, dating back to before the start of Remake's events.
https://preview.redd.it/kvm0jd88i3yc1.png?width=1005&format=png&auto=webp&s=1cb0e3f8ec74fd80e0113a4beee3eb603810540d
CHAPTER 4: DAWN OF A NEW ERA
Who is Viceroy Sarruf?
Rufus. Sarruf is a near anagram of Rufus. In Japanese, "スフール" is "Sufur" or "Rufus" backwards.
Surprise surprise
Rufus has orchestrated multiple behind-the-scenes shenanigans throughout FF7 history, beginning with his role as the primary financier of the original Avalanche in Before Crisis. What Rufus's ultimate goal in the renewed Shinra-Wutai war remains to be seen, though we know the magnus materia arc (a.k.a. Huge Materia from the original game) will likely play a major role in Part 3.
Glenn revealing the nature of the impending Shinra-Wutai war
At the end of the game, Glenn mentions Sarruf as a "rich kid," further alluding to Rufus as Sarruf and vice versa.
Can I make it more obvious?
What did Rufus mean when he said Cloud's file was "fascinating" and "enlightening"?
When Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith's identities were revealed, Rufus said that Cloud was a "fascinating" individual and that his company file was "enlightening."
Rufus knows things
One can assume that, as the president of Shinradictator, Rufus has access to all sorts of classified information. He likely knows Cloud's complete SOLDIER history, the experiments performed on him, and likely a hefty portion of the past that Cloud himself is not aware of.
CHAPTER 5: BLOOD IN THE WATER
Who is Faz?
Aboard the Shinra-8 cruise ship, Aerith and Tifa have seemingly been chatting for a while. The first line we hear is Tifa asking Aerith if she ever saw "that Faz guy again."
Faz is a character in the Traces of Two Pasts novel, a Shinra employee who orchestrated Aerith and her mother Ifalna's escape from Hojo's confinement. Faz isn't a saint, though. He was an obsessive creep over Ifalna and years later, tried to claim Aerith when they crossed paths again.

Even after all these years later, Aerith's perception of Faz still wavered, stuck somewhere between horror and sympathy. She knew she did not want to see him again. But she also recognized that his fate was inextricably tied back to her actions and Ifalna's, and she'd begun to wonder if the only way to free herself from the tangled knot of emotions was to face the man once more. She wondered if the opportunities would ever come, and if so, what form it might take.
- Traces of Two Pasts (English translation)

Best friends for life
The entirety of this scene is the basis for Aerith's section of Traces of Two Pasts, where she talks to Tifa and shares the story of her childhood up through her life as a flower seller in Midgar.

"I'm here if you want to talk," Tifa added quietly.
Aerith was grateful, as always, for this particular companion's warm, thoughtful acceptance. It was easy to speak of her past when Tifa was the one listening.
"Well, actually," Aerith announced, already certain of the next thing she wanted to share. "I was kinda hoping we could talk business."
"Uh... What kind of business?"
"You know. Business." Aerith paused and then added, "Boys."
- Conversation between Aerith and Tifa, Traces of Two Pasts (English translation)

CHAPTER 6: FOOL'S PARADISE
What's the deal with Aerith's clear materia?
At Johnny's Seaside Fleatrap, Aerith and Nanaki ponder the materia Aerith keeps in her bow. What was once white has turned colorless. It is assumed that the whispers from FF7 Remake have somehow removed the knowledge and memories from Aerith's materia, thereby rendering it an empty husk.
https://preview.redd.it/5s59ar62y3yc1.png?width=798&format=png&auto=webp&s=607357f36c26227323e1dec4a1e121ca5b690c65
I. A materia without knowledge and memories becomes void? II. Prior to battling fate itself, at Destiny's Crossroads, Aerith hints that she will no longer be who she is at this moment III. After the battle, Aerith shakes her head when Cloud asks where they are. She no longer knows where they are or what will happen next IV. It all comes full circle
CHAPTER 7: THOSE LEFT BEHIND
What Shinra personnel was Doctor Sheiran referring to?
The party visits Dr. Sheiran in Corel on Tifa's request. After getting cut down by Sephiroth, Tifa was airlifted out for an operation in Corel.
https://preview.redd.it/amn84lcf24yc1.png?width=997&format=png&auto=webp&s=3296be3977a005ffc15a5bc0bf180f9b00bfc690
While it is not confirmed who made the call to save Tifa, it's possible that Shotgun, the female playable Turk from Before Crisis, was responsible. She was on site at the Nibelheim reactor and earlier on had lengthy interactions with the younger Tifa near Mt. Nibel when Tifa was searching for her cat Fluffy. In fact, Shotgun was the one who agreed to have Tifa be the guide for when Cloud and Sephiroth came to town on their mission.
https://preview.redd.it/a8knachn34yc1.png?width=798&format=png&auto=webp&s=a47e11160412aa541d25b99630d782b83062152e
I. Tifa volunteers to be the guide for when Sephiroth comes to town - Before Crisis II. Shotgun on the phone immediately after the incident at the reactor - Last Order
CHAPTER 8: ALL THAT GLITTERS
Why did Dyne end up saving Barret?
In this rendition of Barret and Dyne's confrontation, Dyne ends up pushing Barret out of the hail of bullets from Shinra troopers, sacrificing himself. Or so it seems.
In the end, Dyne fulfills his own wishes to die in order to join his wife Eleanor. At the same time, he wants Barret to continue living on with the weight of his decisions, the guilt, on his shoulders. In essence, it's akin to leaving him a curse.
https://preview.redd.it/uyxr0dsp44yc1.png?width=1049&format=png&auto=webp&s=2b8c6f3dd9745e4d7abc79d0f2760188496a3a1e
CHAPTER 9: THE PLANET STIRS
What's the deal with the black and white whispers?
In Tifa's lifestream scene, we see white whispers for the first time. Both the black and white whispers are different from the whispers of fate in FF7 Remake. It is likely a parallel between Sephiroth (black) and Aerith (white), in turn referring to the Lifestream Black (Sephiroth) and Lifestream White (Aerith) segments of the novel On the Way to a Smile.
We later learn that the black whispers are indeed controlled by Sephiroth. The white whispers eventually appear to be controlled by Aerith -- or at least some version of Aerith. It's also possible to infer that some version of Aerith, controlling the white whispers, has stepped in to protect Tifa from Sephiroth, who has been trying to get rid of her since the opening chapters.
War of the Whispers
Why was Sephiroth struggling so much against a baby Weapon?
Toward the end of Tifa's lifestream scene, Sephiroth manifests himself and attempts to kill Tifa himself after failing to manipulate Cloud to do so earlier. He ended up missing with his Masamune and instead turned on the Weapon itself. Here it is possibly the only time we ever see Sephiroth struggling to do anything.
Audible grunts included
We need to understand that based on the original game, no Sephiroth the party has encountered to this point has been the real one. The real Sephiroth at this time is trapped in the Northern Crater. He expends energy to manifest either in the black robes or here in the lifestream.
One can argue that it takes a lot more effort for him to appear here, while controlling the black whispers, and trying to take down a Weapon (mini baby version or not) at the same time. He only wields a fraction of his true power.
To be continued... I'm tired lol

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Chapter 3 - Seen and Unseen

Everrain, a city that earned its name for a reason. The light pitter of rain a constant companion in this town where the wind makes a curve, in the most literal sense. Aren stares out of the window of the car at the distant cliff edges that capture and redirect the wet, warm winds from the Burn and hold them just long enough to cool down into precipitation, the timeless and unchanging nature of the planet ensuring the rains are all but perennial.
The gentle sound of the rain echoes from above as they enter the city proper, the glass overhangs covering most of the streets shielding its residents from the heavenly assault and creating part of the beauty which attracted tourists to this strange little town. Ultimately, the trip to the local precinct is short as there is little to no traffic and soon enough the personal vehicle has parked across the street from the exterminator precinct.
Swallowing a deep breath of cool, misty air as they step out, Aren silently leads Marik towards the precinct and into it. Inside the environment causes him to instantly fold back his ears in worry, past the front desk and deeper into the offices there is the clear tension and whispering of a case being discussed, which means something had recently happened. He simply waits at the front desk until someone, a fellow venlil of the younger variety, finally comes up “Good paw- Oh, wait, are you the ones from Blackriver?”
Aren tilts his right ear forward “Yeah, is it a bad time?”
“Nothing that should get in your way. The chief’s office is on the second floor, take a right” he points to the stairs at the back end of the office before opening a small barrier allowing the two entrance inside.
Aren keeps his ears attentive as they walk towards the back of the office, catching some whispers of what was the current situation just in case- “Missing person report?” he comments to the man behind him
“From the sounds of it, they’re trying to push it over to the police instead” Marik comments as they reach the stairs
“Well, good to see the division of labor is finally starting to stick”
The trip to the office was quick “Ah, you’ve arrived” Tiri’s voice squeaked before they even knocked on the door. Taking the sound as permission to enter two join into the rather unusual office, in addition to the expected desk and couple of shelves containing the usual decorations of honour there are actual cages in this office. Six rectangular glass cages containing controlled environments, decorated similarly to the flora outside, and within each of them is a single gandri. Five of them are burrowed under piles of fallen leaves, one of them has their belly up towards the ceiling, limbs spread out around it “So, anything in particular you need?”
Aren takes a seat gently, Marik similarly does removing his rifle from his shoulder in the same motion “No chance of having access to the body of the last dead, right”
“No, that’s been a while ago. Recent, in the grand scheme of things, I tried to get the family to allow us to keep the body or at least give him a proper burial but- They’d rather it be cleansed, so”
Aren shrugs “Have to respect their wishes. Has there been any unusual occurrences, then? Sightings of unusual people, people with strange habits?”
Tiri tilts back in his chair “Hrm… This is a tourist town, so we do have consistent eccentrics, but…” he squirms for a moment, before bending back forward muttering something, the noise of fabric making it quite clear why “We have Rey, no idea her real name, weird iftali lady. You see her scavenging around town sometimes, tries to stay away and will talk your ear off if you let her.” he tilts his right ear horizontally and makes a dismissive wave of his right claw “Good at hiding, you can see why, yeah?”
“Harmless, though, and a local fixture so not unusual. We do have a few minority species around here, especially in the construction crews. You know, those species you see maybe one or two in the whole planet? What else…” he taps a claw gently against his chin “Right, Sutev knew the last victim. Worked together often. Silverstar Travels, ‘round here” he reaches forward and presses a few buttons on his computer before turning the screen around to show a map “Works there”
“I heard about a missing persons case on the way here” Aren adds, having already pulled out his holopad to write notes “Mind telling something about it? Just in case it’s related”
“Hrm… Mavir, venlil, grey furred with black spots. Last known location was checking in for work at the office building across from Cloud Inn. I doubt it’s anything to do with this- Or rather I hope it isn’t.”
Aren offers nothing more than an aggressive upwards swipe of his tail in a shrug “Given our luck…” with a short sigh he stands up and looks back down at his holopad “Alright, I suppose we should start off with Sutev”
Soon enough the pair were back in the car, driving under the glassy shielding until a stronger shadow passes over them. On the side of the street, a small group of four people were working around a bucket arm truck performing maintenance on a pillar holding up the glass awning over the street. Not soon after they finally reach the chosen destination, parking the car in a small garage in the front they make their way into the short building- Silverstar Travels.
Inside they’re welcomed by the melodic arpeggio of a flytser as the door opens, and the room spread before them shows itself to be distressingly colourful. Between posters, memorabilia and advertisements there were signifiers of at least fifty different planets in here, from Colia to Earth to Leirn to the gojid cradle, though the last one’s representation was only in the form of a sculpture of an ancient tree, whose base had been decorated with a red silken bow.
“Bit of a tradition in travel companies for… Locations that suffered such a fate” the voice of the man behind a desk draws Aren’s attention “Some find it distasteful, personally, I think it’s important to remember” who is presumably Sutev is sitting down, analysing the two exterminators that had just come in “From the badges I figured you’re not here to find out where to spend your vacation time?”
Marik waves the tip of his tail at Aren and walks over to the door, resting his back against the doorframe. At that, Aren sighs and walks over to Sutev, giving him a friendly wave “Sadly. We came to talk about your coworker”
“Runkar?” the silvering venlil sighs, stretching back on his chair as Aren takes a seat before him “More like boss, he owned Silverstar Travels… Speh… And he left it to me, the idiot…” tail swiping left and right in some uncertain display of emotion he continues “Sorry… We opened this travel agency together early on, when the idiot run away from home with just the credits on his account. Of course, no warm-blooded fissan would stand to have a minority share… Not like he kept the money, though, just liked to have his name up front… I can’t even figure out how it happened… He never went out in the wild…”
Aren slowly tilts the tip of his tail forward in agreement “Despite what it seems, deadly predator attacks are… Incredibly rare. They simply do not come into cities, and this is hardly a frontier town. One would have to make their way into the outskirts somehow”
Not like this was a predator attack at all from the looks of it
“Hrm… I wonder if that’s what it was…” Sutev adds in a low tone “I mean after the Intestine Eater and the Heartbreak Killer… Sometimes I think it could have been anyone, anything…”
“Do you remember anything about the last time you saw him?”
Sutev perks up “Well, it’s been months. He was really nervous for some reason, some clients he was really interested in apparently had bailed on him. Didn’t want to talk to me too much about it.” he turns his head up, eyes towards the ceiling “Maybe I should have pressed more…”
Soon, Marik and Aren were standing outside on the parking lot, standing by the car as they spoke to one of their holopads “That… Yeah, no… That’s a murder alright. You’d be hard pressed to convince a terran that isn’t one” says a voice in the human language on the other side
“Figures…” the black venlil rubs his snout “I suppose we should try to-” but he stops suddenly, his right ear twisting. For two heartbeats nothing happens, then his left ear starts tracking the same direction. Four seconds later, Aren’s focus is in the same direction. “Later” he says, quickly cutting the call.
Then the two split off, each one of them heading towards a different side of the car. Walking past it, towards the edge of the parking lot they slowly make their way to a large trash bin made of dark grey plastic. Its cover had been opened and, unlike normal, its front side was facing the wall, completely obscuring whatever was going on in the other side.
The two of them wait for a moment, listening to the light sound of rustling for a few seconds before moving in unison to have a look at the other side. There is nothing to be found, other than the nearby sound of hooves against pavement behind the wall. The two venlil look at each other and, without visual or verbal cues, Marik crosses his paws in front of him for support and Aren quickly leaps up on them and, using the boost, jumps up on the wall separating the garage from the other building. He lowers his tail behind him and once he feels the paws grasping it he drops himself down the wall, the minor pain from using his tail as an impromptu rope well within his ability to endure, and soon the two have crossed the barrier in time to see a flash of pink disappear down the small alley between buildings.
On a hunch, Aren keeps his strides short as he jogs onward in a chase, his companion offers him a questioning tail wave but gets no answer in return. Reaching the end of the alley they once again get a glimpse of pink taking another corner “Yep… She wants us to follow” he taps Marik on the shoulder and points a paw at the nearby building, a bookstore, before continuing the chase.
A third time in this leisurely chase does his quarry evade away, but this time as they step from the alley into the street proper she vanishes into the greenery across from the street. Everrain was also famous for its rivers fed by the near-perennial rain and, most specifically, the wonderful waterfalls that were present in certain parts of town such as this park. Before proceeding, Aren stops and pulls out his holopad, pressing a few buttons before storing it back away, and then from a different pocket pulls out a small semi-circular device. With a little bit of trouble he adjusts it on his right ear “Hearing me?” he mutters
“I can see her, about twenty metres, somewhat off to your left. Pink is bad camouflage” Marik answers.
With a sigh, Aren proceeds past the street and simply walks into the park. He follows roughly the directions he’d been given, and soon he finds himself nearby the waterfall, just close enough to feel the spray of mist and hear the rush of the water. Close enough for it to muffle any possible conversation “You came…” comes a weak voice from the side.
Aren tilts his ears forward in an affirmative, before slowly turning until he can see her. The iftali woman does not look perfectly healthy, her fur is missing in patches quite clearly from untreated superficial wounds, even for him it’s clear her hooves needed trimming months ago and her stance is energetic and uncertain, constantly scanning her surroundings and her ears never pointing both at the same direction at the same time. “You did make it easy to follow”
“Have… Have you seen the… The ghosts?” she mutters, walking in closer.
Aren tilts his head to the side “Ghosts? I haven’t heard about them”
“They’re here… They’re around, always!” she says, in a panic “I- I can see them. Nobody believes me, but I see them!” she approaches closer and closer as she speaks, bringing her left eye right close to Aren as she does so, eyeing him closely.
This close, he notices something unusual about her eye, like there was a translucent film over it “What… Kind of ghosts?” his body is tense, ready for something to happen but-
Remember the Black Claw… How many of those ‘strange’ people had just gone through something? Are those ghosts real? Did they do something to her?
“Three- It’s three of them!” her voice gets a little louder “Y-you can see them, sometimes, when the rain gives out just a little bit. Or when they walk by the waterfalls” then her voice becomes lower, a whisper “T-they’re… They’re watching to judge you”
“Judge?”
“Y-yes! They’ll judge your aura when you die!” she mutters, in a low tone “They always know when someone will die, they’re always there when someone dies- And- They’ll judge you-” suddenly she lunges forward. Not to harm, however, as instead she buries her snout on his chest “D-don’t let them judge me…”
Somewhat surprised, Aren just gently holds on to her “There’s no need to worry about that…”
“I don’t want- Don’t want to stay” she mutters in a low tone “I-i’m dirty…”
Aren proceeds to gently caress her side “No, you are not. Now, I don’t know what happened to you, but I can tell you did not do any harm yourself” he continues to caress her side “So you don’t need to worry about judgement, alright?”
After a couple dozen more minutes, Aren was willing to consider this interview done. He wasn’t quite certain what to do with Rey quite yet, he’d have to check with someone with actual training in those situations, but he did gain one more insight “Well, whatever she’s been seeing haven’t been around forever, but it has been around for a while”
Marik had taken a more lax position in front of the bookstore by the time he returned “Can we trust any of that?”
“No. But it doesn’t mean we can discount it just yet”
“Gather all available information before analysing, yes”
The two remain in silence for a moment, with a wave of his tail Aren starts returning to their car, Marik in tow. “Did you actually get any of that?” he comments as he pulls back out his holopad.
“Almost didn’t, the microphones on those things are very bad” Santos answers on the other side of the call “That one’s in a bad state…”
“Yeah… They don’t have a psych unit here so… Think we could send ‘em to at least give a look?”
“I’ll talk to the boss. Probably only after you’re back…” the sound of a sigh “This is really not our specialty… Any more ideas?”
“Missing persons case, generally people go missing before they’re declared dead” the clunking of the car door closing punctuates Marik’s intervention
With an objective in mind, the duo starts driving again making their way towards the Cloud Inn, their point of reference. The Inn itself was easy to find, not many buildings in Everrain were built tall enough to fight the perennial winds, but the Cloud Inn was one of the best hotels in the city, easily found by its tall silhouette. From there, their objective was the office building across from it, just three stories tall.
As they head out of the car and start heading towards the building, Marik gently taps his companion with his tail before walking towards a construction crew of five that was currently working one of the metal pillars holding the glass awnings in place.
Aren sizes up the workers as the tougher of the two goes to ask whatever questions had come to their mind. There was one of the fixtures in construction crews around the galaxy, one of the ever-scattered and powerful takkan.
One of them was a fellow venlil, untrimmed fur deeply uncomfortable under the protective clothing. Attached to the pillar and carrying a collection of metal screws on their mouth was a very red harchen, visually broadcasting his annoyance at the situation.
Preparing a selection of screws and looking at a blueprint was some species he could not put a name to, somewhat tall biped, light brown fur so light it seemed almost furless, broader shoulders, a long snout with a flat circular nose that constantly twitched, long attentive ears and a forward leaning posture.
Busy making sure three large panes of curved glass were not about to annihilate themselves was another species outside of his usual knowledge range, somewhat tall and biped, snow-white fur, thick legs with a digitigrade stance, a short and stubby snout decorated with the sharp reminders of incautious work, sharp incisors that’s show whenever he murmured something to himself, long ears with rounded ends that kept themselves high and alert and highly dextrous paws.
When Marik approaches, it’s the snow-furred man who turns an ear at him “Good waking” he starts “I hope you’re not too busy for some questions?”
“Oh! One moment!” the man says with a cheerful voice, taking a second to adjust the glass panes further before turning around “Sure! Never too busy to help an Exterminator!” as he puts Marik on the focus of his favoured side, Aren can feel his hackles raising.
“Do you generally work around this area or around the town? We’re looking into some older cases and figured, with as common as the construction crews are, you could be of assistance” Marik’s tone is clear and professional, as always.
The man puts his arms behind his back, lowering his head ever so slightly. “Of course, I tend to be with maintenance dispatch, so I work all over town!” his voice is cheerful, but seems to leave Aren in anticipation for a moment in a way he can’t quite figure out why just yet. In the back of his mind, he files away the fact the man is wearing a shirt under his jacket.
“Have you heard of anything of note happening around the parks and wild areas here? Anything particularly new that’s been attracting the tourists?” Marik continues, same even voice
The man swings his right ear back in a sweeping negative motion, the oddness of using a short-eared sign instead of the more reduced motion used by the nevok strikes Aren for a second, but this isn’t a commonly-seen species. “Hrm… Well, I know we’ve had more than a few calls over spinwards, those tourists are really careless around our work, did you know that?” he says with a mildly annoyed voice. “There has to be something over there, maybe someone found a new waterfall? They aren’t all mapped, you know?”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Marik’s continued use of a professional tone has not altered the man’s reactions in the slightest “One more thing, have you seen a spotted venlil around here? We were supposed to meet him around here”
Aren tilts his head slightly at his companion’s lie, but the man does not seem to notice it as he answers simply “Sorry, haven’t seen someone like that, but i’ve only really been at this position the last, oh… Claw or so?” his tone is perfectly pleasant, but Aren can’t stop feeling… Something about it.
“Ah, I see” Marik adds just a bit of softness in the answer, an assurance at the final question “Thank you for your assistance, sir” when he gives a light wave of his tail, he’s answered with the man tilting his head ever so lightly from one side to the other, causing his ears to swing side to side. A motion that strikes a sense of uncanny valley on Aren, too similar to the motion of joy unique to the nevok.
Leaving the workers to their work, the two enter the office building, though before they go further Marik turns over to his companion “Something is off, what?”
“That guy…” Aren shakes himself slightly “Felt like talking to you when you’re not facing me” he adds with a sigh.
At that, Marik turns his entire body, placing Aren’s snout directly in front of his “What?”
“You know-” Aren waves all of his three limbs in an excessive expression of dismissiveness “That something is too right you know? I mean, it’s just weird”
Marik sighs, then flicks his right ear like swatting something away “Yeah, I get it. Easy to know when someone’s putting too much effort into being normal. Going to take a while before we can stop doing that, though”
“Hopefully not much longer” Aren turns back towards the entrance hall of the office. It is difficult to impossible to figure out what, exactly, is done in this place from its lack of decorations. However, a seemingly unbusy front desk sits there with a very distracted worker “Good waking” Aren starts “Are you available for some questions?”
The woman behind the desk suddenly jolts to attention “Oh, officers- Sure, what is it?” though despite the sudden surge, she does not seem to be able to focus on him.
“We wanted to know if Mavir works here, and when was the last time he was seen”
“Ah, I see. The police already came by to ask, actually…” her ears turn left and right and as she moves uncomfortably in the chair Aren gets a slight peek at how her tail is wrapped around her waist “Is… Is there something going on?” her entire body had taken a defensive posture by now, wary.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We’re here just in case our problems overlap, we’re looking into some… Unusual circumstances, if you tell us what you told the police?” Aren puts as much softness as he can in his words
“It was last paw… Mavir is the other building overseer…” the way she turns her head to the side slightly and suddenly her ears turn forward towards the door is caught by Aren’s senses “He… I… He… He had relieved me, so- So I went over to the lobby of the Inn out front- It… It’s a nice place… To sit and, and read and…” he takes a deep breath “And, and… And then I got back to get my things but- I didn’t see him up front, so I tried to find him. And- And he hadn’t clocked out or anything or…” her voice trails away.
Aren flicks an ear back at Marik, before focusing all of his attention on the woman “So he clocked in normally, and was not seen again since then?”
“Y-yes…” she almost seem to curl into herself at the answer.
Aren gently puts a paw on her shoulder, causing her to startle again and look up, this time putting her entire focus on him “Look, it’s alright. This has nothing to do with you, I promise.”
“I… I saw something…” she whispers in a low tone
“Something?”
“When… When I was reading… I saw something- Someone…” she mutters “They… They were armed, had this- Cloak and… And this mask” her words are a whisper “And the way they looked at me- I thought- I thought I wasn’t-”
“That’s what we’re here for” Aren says, with a bit more intensity, causing her to uncurl slightly “To keep people safe. What kind of person was this?”
“I-I don’t know… I never saw- Never saw someone like that before… They were all covered but- I know they had long ears…” her voice continues to be low “Do you think that… Do you think that Mavir saw them too? Is that why he-” he voice slowly dies out in her throat.
“That’s what we’re going to figure out” Aren adds, with finality. Then, after a moment he pulls out his holopad, presses a few buttons and offers it forward “Here, if you’re still scared, why don’t you go here after your shift is over? I’m sure you’re going to be safe over there”
With seemingly great effort, she tilts her ears forward in an affirmative motion before continuing to be in silence. Aren sighs, walking back to Marik “Well, thought it was a human for a moment, but not with the ears”
“We’d have heard something about armed individuals, though, wouldn’t we?” his companion adds.
Aren tips an ear forward “Yes, but it seems nobody noticed anything… But after the Silver Leaf situation… I’m not going to discount this”
Marik adjusts his rifle uncomfortably on his back.
Soon, however, they crossed the street towards the Cloud Inn. There was no need to discuss the most obvious plan, and within a few more moments they had approached the front desk “Good waking” Aren starts “I hope you’re willing to collaborate. Does the Inn have a security camera system?”
“Oh, uhn-” the surprised attendant stutters “Y-yes officer. D-do you want me to call a manager?”
“That would be helpful, yes”
The attendant quickly scurries away through a door, and after a few moments someone comes out with him. Garbed in a one-piece suit made of heavy fabrics, a heavyset tierkel walks up to the two exterminators. His near-black red suit is adorned with almost invisible geometrical patterns with lighter oranges that give the entire ensemble the impression of smoldering rocks, tilting his head up towards Aren she crosses her arms, letting out a puff of air that condenses as it passes past the threshold of her collar of her suit “Better have a good reason to pull me out of my room, darlings, ‘cause you don’t wanna know how much trouble it is to put on this suit”
“We want access to your security footage, if you have it available. We believe that…” Aren stops to think for a few seconds “There’s the possibility someone involved in a disappearance was here in the last paw, and we’d like to track them”
She tilts her head slightly to the right, her short little left ear flicking backwards just for a moment in a negative “Isn’t the police supposed to deal with those cases nowadays, love?”
“And they are, in fact, dealing with the disappearance” Aren continues undaunted “However, we are looking into a case of a predator attack with… Unusual circumstances, and are checking on the possibility of it being linked”
“And what would those circumstances be?” her voice is angrier by the second
“Animals don’t disable limbs with precise cuts” Marik cuts through “I can see you’ve no love for the guild, but I do not have the patience for this. We’re trying to figure if this is a sophont or an animal attack, are you going to help or not?”
The manager tilts slightly at him, before stamping the ground once with her foot “... I always had some suspicions…” then she turns around and starts heading back through the door she came in.
Taking it as the invitation it was, the two follow her into the office. It is, by all accounts, as normal an office as it gets- At least for the first few seconds. The moment they walk in the door closes and the loud noise of fans kick up, and after an entire minute the screaming fans settle into a low hum. The process has caused the office to mist slightly for a few moments as the temperature drops, and the air is now comfortably colder from usual dayside temperatures and considerably more humid.
She waves at the computer on the desk, and the two walk behind her as she presses a few buttons. Soon enough, a video recording comes up. It shows the front lobby, empty of people. The time on the bar clock at the far wall ticks away slowly. After a few second she presses a few more buttons and the clock starts ticking away faster as the recording accelerates, showing effectively no traffic the entire paw. “Well, seems like we got nothing here, darlings”
“Still, would you mind giving us a copy?” Aren pleads
The manager tilts her head from side to side in thought, pulls out a small memory stick from a drawer and puts it on the computer. A few a few more commands she hands it over to him “Better damn well find something” she threatens, before walking over to the door and waiting by it.
Taking the sign, the two exterminators step out, the door quickly closing behind them with the whir of the climate control system activating inside. As they start heading out the attendant at the front calls out “Wait, hold on! I got a message for you!”
Marik instantly twists around, facing square towards the attendant that flinches back “What?”
“U-uhn, Mister Kenim passed by and asked to hand this over to the two exterminators that he saw coming inside, and then left” he meekly holds out a paper note.
Marik picks it up “Thank you” before turning back to Aren “‘Meet me at the Edge of Nowhere, I have important information’... With an address” he hands the piece of paper over “Split?”
Aren flicks his ear forward in assertion and silently they board their car once again. The following trip is not too long, but about a block before the Edge of Nowhere they stop. Marik disembarks and walks away a small distance “Hearing me?” his voice comes muffled from Aren’s earpiece.
“Badly, but yes” he answers, starting up the car again and continuing the trip. The Edge of Nowhere is worthwhile of its name, it is at the very edge of the street, mere meters away from the treeline of the true wilderness, itself a small distance away from every other building around it.
Aren parks the car nearby and looks over the building. Purposefully designed to look old, the wood panelling on the outside looking a little bit too carefully aged to truly be old, large glass windows looking on inside and from the look of the light beams striking the few visible tables- There is also a glass roof. A light chime announces his entrance.
There are only two people present, by the bar is a nevok duly ignoring everything around him as he focuses on cleaning a single glass cup. At the far end of the room is a small booth, barely visible from this angle is the white tuft of a venlise tail just barely in sight. Aren slowly steps in closer “Found an angle from above, you’re covered” echoes in his ear as he simply sits down at the booth.
The man on the other side of the table looks, for all can be seen, nervous beyond anything else. Despite how composed he is, his ears tilt slightly left and right, he has angled his body in such a way his blind spot falls directly against the solid wall. Aren had seen many a cornered venlil at this point, but something told him that he wasn’t the threat this man was seeing “Kenim, I imagine? You said you had information?”
The man lowers his body, turning his words down to a whisper “Yes, it’s me… Good, you came…”
Aren keeps his voice calm and collected as he lowers himself a little as well, matching the low volume “What information is that?”
“Do you know who I am?” that wasn’t the tone used in an usual threat
“Chief of the immigration department of this province, yes”
“Listen… I am being hunted…” his eyes are distant, somewhere not here, observing a foe beyond visual range.
“Hunted?”
“Yes, hunted, stalked. There’s things- People- They’re after me. They want me dead” his eyes turn up towards Aren “Hunters of the thinking kind, exterminator. The most dangerous kind, you understand me, right?”
Aren’s ears tilt horizontally in a display of sympathetic worry for a moment “I know the dangers of those…”
“Listen, they’re waiting for just the right time- Those people- The others- They don’t know what being stalked really is like, but I do, it’s happening to me. I’ve- I’ve done what I can, I got more guards, I got more security for my residence, even got some of those fancy human security measures.” he moves his body up suddenly, grabbing hold of the fur on Aren’s chest, bringing him closer “It’s not enough. I need help-” he takes a deep breath “Or at least for someone to notice it alright?”
He lets go and continues to whisper “Look- I told you. Whatever happens, do something, anything about it, alright?”
Then, he raises himself up to a normal-looking stance. And yet, his breathing is deep and slow as if he is about to lose control at any moment. Before Aren can say anything he stands up slowly, pulls out a small piece of folded paper and gently puts it down on the table before he starts walking out. His body would speak of calm if not for the fact that his motions are far too stiff, composure brought to the edge.
After a few moments, Aren picks up the paper and follows back outside. Kenim is nowhere to be seen, so he walks back to his car. In a few moments he finds Marik where he had left him originally, and he enters the car. Setting up the cruise control as they start heading deeper into the city he pulls up the folded piece of paper as he starts up a call on the holopad hooked to the dashboard.
“Do you believe in curses, Santos?” he says, with a tired tone. He unfolds the paper, a piece of paper from a notebook, written in impressive venlise calligraphy were four words ‘We are not forgiving’. Compressed within the paper was a small tuft of fur, color matching that of Kenim’s.
“No, but I believe we are cursed either way” the human on the other side says “So… I got news about that recording”
[<-PREV][FIRST][NEXT->]
Surprise- This is not quite so much a standard story :D
This one is a crossover with u/Starkeeper0's Off The Beaten Path! So, if you know both stories... You can expect some action soon.

I was watching a veritasium video about quantum computers (How Quantum Computers Break The Internet... Starting Now) and he mentioned

...but you can't simply read out this superposition. When you make a measurement, you only get a single value from the superposition basically at random, and all the other information is lost. So in order to harness the power of a quantum computer, you need a smart way to convert a superposition of states into one that contains only the information you want. This is an incredibly difficult task, which is why for most applications, quantum computers are useless...

this is the direct quote from the video. noticeably to my eyes, he does not say impossible, simply extremely difficult. My mind went to two ideas then, either what he thought when writing the video was "best not to say impossible in case it ever happens" or "some people theorized ways to convert the information but it's all theoretical so I won't mention it."
It got me thinking and brought me here: is there possible ways for superposition to be converted into desired outputs? maybe have multiple quantum computers do the same work and compare or something? I'm curious and I think it's really cool but the closest i get to physics is some basic electronics calculations with resistors and voltages lol.
thanks for explaining if you can! :)

Title. I got to meet a formeretired federal agent who had profiled many (over 300) criminals when no fingerprint or DNA was available. They were always brought in when there were no leads. The agent when asked by me during our conversation years ago “how do you become so... accurate?” They replied “you see patterns in life.” This agent had worked many years prior for a sheriff’s department and the entire county/state was on the hunt for a murderer who would pick locks and then murder the women inside using something within the apartment/home. This profiler was able to predict: The murderer would be highly intelligent, a white man, physically fit, between 27-30 years old, would drive a brown truck that is 2 doors, would have been employed with the same job for the last 4 or more years, and would have a British accent. You want to know what made the agent think ALL of these things? The way the lock to 2 of the deadbolts to the murder scenes were picked and scratched.
*This would not be the first time a profiler in law enforcement was able to predict such a small detail like the make and color of the vehicle of a murderer. https://www.reddit.com/MindHuntecomments/ztxexi/one_of_my_favorite_episodes_of_forensic_files/
Once this another law enforcement staff was able to predict something way off the wall and it turned out to be true: The bank robber who hit the same bank twice with a mask on would be predicted to be a fan of the Cincinnati Bengals (the robberies happened in ... Canada) and would be an avid Texas Hold’em player but always would lose more than win due to folding too often. The law enforcement found this robber I believe 4 years later and they had multiple things in their apartment including a Cincinnati Bengals uniform and a laptop with no password. When the agents brought the laptop to the crime lab they opened the internet explorer tab to find the robber had lost many tens of thousands of dollars online gambling to Texas hold‘Em. When asked about the gambling money during the start of the interrogation they said something to the effect of they fold all the time and loose.
There are way more extreme examples than what was listed above where the details were so accurate is it unbelievable.
Back to that murderer from the first example: Months after the profile was made they found the man and he had every single one of these descriptors. I am the last person who would want to admit profiling can work because I myself invented a racism test for my job they now use when training people (the test is about a biracial couple, based on an actual couple I know, who fell in love in when the nurse and inmate met in prison. They met in prison when the inmate met the nurse in the prison for a blood pressure and pulse check before seeing one of the doctors. Now they are married (6 years as of last Friday) after the former worker quit so the relationship could start and the catch is the inmate is a white female and the black man was the nurse in a women’s prison).
How do we as liberals come to the conclusion that profiling is inherently wrong when there are people who do it for a living and can do it accurately? Does this mean my test is worthless along with all other tests like the famous gender bias test about the surgeon are all just wrong? Is it okay for some people to go around and with basically 100% accuracy say things just sometimes are going to be predictable? If anyone cares my opinion on all of this would be there are always exceptions to the rules. Some people just with decades of seeing crimes play out can predict based on the way a knot is tied or the way a deadbolt it picked the color of someone’s vehicle... But most people canNOT do this and therefore it is safe to say do not profile. For the 0.0001% of people who can profile correctly - you would be smart to know I am no talking about you when I say do not profile.
*Gender bias test for those who do not know: https://insightplus.mja.com.au/2017/28/unconscious-bias-and-the-gender-riddle/

I guess I just want someone to tell me I’m not crazy. That this isn’t normal. And that I would be in the right for cutting them out. Or maybe tell me I’m wrong, so I can figure out my next steps towards a healthy relationship.
I feel like my mom and sister suck. Mom more than sis. My mother has told me to my face (not in so many words) that she believes I was some drug and alcohol addicted whore in high school. In her actual words I have “never done anything to earn any respect” from her or anyone. Just a few bits that really nag me:
While I was working as a mechanic, my mother asked me to have my at the time husband (a dairy worker) change her headlights. I told her he had no idea, but I could. My offer was brushed off, and she went to a shop instead.
Any time I give my opinion on anything, both have a tendency to roll their eyes and ignore me. For example, I can say “putting a betta in a flower vase is abuse” or “the airbag can break your nose” and I get the eye rolling and subject changes.
I have had a dojo loach for 6 years. My mother and sister have decided it’s an eel. When I disagreed, my sister then went to work and asked all her co-workers their opinion. Their consensus: it’s an eel and I’m wrong.
If ever I have a complaint, at least it isn’t as bad as what they have to deal with. My sister was complaining about a 3 hour drive she decided to make with her boyfriend for a vacation. When I responded “yeah, three hour drives are awful, I use to have to do it every other weekend for almost a yea”, I got “well at least it’s pretty there, I’m driving through boring countryside” Ummmm…. What is Montana if not endless miles of countryside? And thanks for letting me know I wasn’t actually bored enough to fall asleep while driving. 🙄
I tried to explain how older cars value fluctuates depending on current market value and such, and got told that’s not true for cars “like a ford ranger” It does not matter that my current occupation is buying and flipping old cars, I obviously don’t know what I’m talking about.
Am I being “too sensitive”? Or do they kinda suck?

I already have a Toyota 4Runner built for adventure. Still, with everything I bring when I go out, I can barely fit another person in the truck (usually I go to multiple days and work remotely using Starlink).
My friend has an F250 Tremor with a GFC camper and the setup blew my mind. The bed is so big I can set up a table and work inside the camper, protected from the environment. Now I'm looking to build a second rig, preferably an HD truck, so when my family comes to visit I have 2 vehicles to take everyone to go camping and do outdoor stuff.
Below are my thoughts about the trucks I'm considering in the $80K price range (I'm not considering diesel. Too much maintenance and I don't tow anything so don't need all the torque):
1) Ram PW: most capable and most "affordable" out of the HD trucks. Seriously, there are dealers here in the Portland area selling for $5-$8k under MSRP. I just don't like how abysmal the payload is. ~1500 lbs, you put a GFC camper on top (~350 lbs), a few gallons of water, food, outdoor gear, and 3-4 people and you already max out on the payload. Plus, I don't like the feeling of a solid front axle on the road. It's quite busy and driver assist tech for RAM trucks isn't that good. Also, 33s from the factory is a big letdown vs. other trucks.
2) F-250 Tremor: proven platform, big payload, good modern tech. Good interior. My friend has one and I drove it a few times. Even with a solid front axle, the driver-assist technology makes the truck so pleasant to drive on the highway. What I don't like is how expensive it can get with options added and you can only get certain options in a package. For the configuration I want (comparable to how I'd spec the Ram PW), the price comes to about ~$82K.
3) Silverado 2500 HD ZR2: First year debut for the ZR2. Truck comes from the factory pretty much fully loaded and there are very few options/packages you can add. For the same options I'd spec in the Ford, MSRP comes to ~$76K. Test drove an LTZ diesel the other day to get a feel and IFS makes a big difference in highway driving. I also like the interior layout and the payload.
4) RaptoTRX/Silverado 1500 ZR2: love them and really want them but they're too damn big to get in most trails. Also, payload is a problem just like the PW.
5) Ranger RaptoTacoma TRD Pro/Colorado ZR2 Bison: same with payload problem and the bed is too small to set up an office inside. I'd go with the ZR2 Bison though.
Idk. I'm leaning more and more towards the 2500 HD ZR2 because it has everything I need at a pretty "good" price (relative to the HD truck world). Does anyone have experience with a camper setup on any of these vehicles that they can share? Note: as mentioned, I don't tow anything heavy so towing capacity isn't a big deal to me.
Thank you!
​

13-minute read.

did/does Russia support or oppose the ongoing Tavush border delimitation process?

Some pro-West figures in Armenia believe that Russia is against this delimitation process because that would further reduce the need to have Russian boots in those regions, and Armenian government member(s) have publicly stated that there will be no need for Russians to stay there. Others cite a recent statement made by Russian MFA spokeswoman Zakharova to suggest Russia supports the delimitation. Others believe Russia organized this delimitation process by using its "puppet" Mher Grigoryan - the head of the Armenian border commission.
Let's recall the events.
March 18: PM Pashinyan announces a plan to delimit the borders and to start it from Tavush. Says the chance of a war is high if Armenia doesn't return the 4 (2.5) Soviet-era Azerbaijani villages where civilians used to live.
March 20, Moscow, Zakharova: There is a mechanism for delimitation and Russia is ready to assist the parties with our expertise. We are ready to cooperate [suggests that Russia is not currently part of that process]. That is the role we could play. Now regarding the role we certainly do NOT play today. We have nothing to do with the decisions voiced by the Armenian government. Do me a favor, understand and remember, that whatever Pashinyan said, must not and cannot be associated with Russia. Armenia held no consultations with Russia in advance, no contacts, this is an exclusively Armenian decision based on Yerevan's consultations with the West. This is the West's zone of responsibility. The questions on what agreements they have reached, what the [West] was pushing Armenia to accept, should be directed at Yerevan. The Armenian government should not blame Russia for this. //
Fast forward to April 19. Armenian government announces a breakthrough agreement with Azerbaijan. Territorial-wise, it is more favorable for Armenia than many expected, with Armenia maintaining control of crucial roads and most of the Soviet-Azerbaijani territories during this phase of the delimitation.
Following this agreement and the successful launch of the border marking process, Russia's Zakharova makes a generic statement welcoming any diplomatic effort: "Let me remind you of our [Russia's] traditional position. We support the settlement of all issues related to the demarcation of the state border between Azerbaijan and Armenia, without exception, exclusively by political-diplomatic methods."
Do you believe Russia organized, supported, or truly supports this process? Leave your opinion in the comments below.
video, source, source,

Armenia's ruling party met Ben Cardin, the Chairman of the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee

A delegation of ranking ruling MPs and Armenia's Ambassador Lilith Makunts were hosted by Senator Cardin on Wednesday.
They discussed the AM-AZ peace process and the Crossroads of Peace regional logistics project that aims to lift the blockade on Armenia.
Cardin expressed support for Armenia's sovereignty and democracy and expressed willingness to further deepen the US-AM relations.
source,

tens of U.S. Representatives urge Congressional Appropriators to allocate $200 million for Artsakh refugees

66 members of the House want to...
(1) Expand the US military aid to Armenia. $20M in Foreign Military Financing (FMF) and $10M in International Military Education and Training (IMET).
(2) Suspend all US military and security aid to Azerbaijan.
(3) Urge Blinken to develop a potential sanctions package against the Azerbaijani regime.
(4) $200M for Nagorno-Karabakh refugees.
(5) $10M for law enforcement reforms in INCLE
(6) $10M in democratic reforms under OTI
ANCA welcomed the letter by the Congress members:

With tens of billions of American dollars being shipped overseas to crisis zones around the world, the less than $20 million that President Biden has set aside – but not yet allocated – for displaced Artsakh Armenians is truly an embarrassment

source,

United States Commission on International Religious Freedom recommends listing Azerbaijan among "countries of particular concern" like Afghanistan, North Korea, and Cuba

The USCIRF made that recommendation to the US government in its 2024 Annual report.
It also urges the US government to allocate funds to restore, preserve, and protect Armenian religious and cultural sites in Nagorno-Karabakh.
The report notes that in 2023 the Azerbaijani government continued to pose a threat to religious sites in Nagorno-Karabakh. For example, the chairman of Azerbaijan's official State Committee for Work on Religious Affairs Mubariz Gurbanli urged Armenian Apostolic priests to leave the Dadivank Monastery, falsely claiming that they had no ties to the religious site.
source,

U.S. Treasury Department sanctions an Azerbaijani business for assisting Russia to bypass the weapons sanctions

An Azerbaijani company is accused of acting as an intermediary to negotiate and execute business deals on behalf of sanctioned Russian entities.
source, source,

Azerbaijani president Aliyev praises Russia's role in "ensuring security" in Caucasus and globally

Ilham Aliyev hosted the Russian Senate's deputy leader Kosachev and the head of the Eurasian Integration Committee Leonid Kalashnikov.
RUSSIAN SENATOR: President Aliyev's insightful speech at the World Forum on Intercultural Dialogue regarding the restoration of Azerbaijan's territorial integrity and [the anti-French speech about] neo-colonialism were very relevant under today's conditions. Mr. Aliyev's recent visit to Moscow was very successful.
ILHAM ALIYEV: My visit to Moscow was very productive and it once again displayed the strategic nature of the Russian-Azerbaijani alliance. As neighboring states, we provide maximum support to one another. Russia plays an important role in ensuring security not only in the region but also in the wider area.
source,

Foreign Ministers of Armenia and Ukraine discussed bilateral and regional issues over the phone

Emphasizing the efforts to achieve lasting peace and stability in the South Caucasus, Ararat Mirzoyan attached importance to the unconditional respect for the principle of territorial integrity in the process of border delimitation, the commitment to the 1991 Alma-Ata Declaration and the position expressed by international partners

source,

Armenian government approves the package to establish Police Guard as part of ongoing police reforms

EXECUTIVE: Purely police service will be created with new weapons and trained personnel in accordance with international standards, which will be entrusted with the maintenance of public order and public safety, the protection of state buildings and important objects, the escorting of delegations provided for by the state protocol, as well as ensuring the legal regime of martial law and state of emergency.
At the same time, the adoption of the drafts will contribute to more effective realization of the right of citizens to hold assemblies, and will exclude the risks of use of disproportionate force against participants of rallies.
INTERIOR MINISTRY: Police Guard will be one of the 4 pillars of the police reforms [Patrol Police, Police Guard,...]. We have been working with the Council of Europe and Armenian NGOs to develop this reform. It has received a positive evaluation from international observers.
The Police Guard will have civilian management and be monitored by the parliament. In comparison, the existing Police Forces operate under a different code. The Police Guard will be formed as an entirely new structure and won't be a legal successor of another division.
New international standards will be implemented for the use of force and weapons. This will come to replace "inaccurate" formulations in the existing structures.
Today we have reports about a disproportionate amount of force being used by police, or other inappropriate conduct. That is because these police officers were never trained and educated for years. The Police Guard applicants will receive training on how to ethically communicate with citizens during mass events, how to negotiate with citizens, what the citizens' rights are, etc.
The main law will go into effect in September, launching a process of bringing other laws in line with the new code. The head of the Police Guard will be appointed in January 2025; it will be fully formed two months later. We decided to do it slowly so as not to compromise the quality and to give enough time for applicants to study and join the service.
PASHINYAN: This is the next important reform in the police. We have decided to do it slowly but accurately. We need to standardize how much force the police can use and when. The correct boundaries will protect not only citizens but also the officers who will avoid harsh consequences by not overstepping their boundaries.
source, video,

Armenia and US extend agreement on cooperation in the area of counterproliferation of weapons of mass destruction

MOD Papikyan hosted Ambassador Kvien. They discussed the current state of AM-US relations and future developments.
The US expressed readiness to continue to support defense reforms in Armenia.
source,

Armenia will join an EAEU mechanism to identify the true origin of goods

There is a unified system of determining the origin of goods that helps streamline the movement of goods.
EXECUTIVE: This will significantly facilitate trade, as goods from the EAEU member states, as well as from countries that have or are planning free trade agreements with the EAEU, will undergo minimal inspections and enjoy favorable trade regimes. The unified system will simplify the procedure for processing documents.
source,

the government discusses changes to the tax code for businesses

FINANCE MINISTER: (1) We need to raise the turnover tax rate to reduce the difference in tax burden compared to the VAT/profit taxation system. (2) Turnover taxpayers should improve their documentation discipline. (3) Certain types of activities won't enjoy the privileges of microbusinesses and turnover tax. The latter must be more targeted.
As you know, the purpose of the turnover tax system was to simplify the tax system and have a milder approach to certain businesses. However, the research shows that the turnover tax system has turned into a system of "privilege". We compared the tax burden under profit/VAT and turnover systems and found that in almost every sector, the profit/VAT burden was much heavier than the turnover-based burden, ranging from 2-3x.
Moreover, recent years' experience with turnover tax and microbusiness shows that these systems often include types of business activities that resemble activities that are prohibited under the turnover tax system.
Therefore, it is necessary to double the turnover tax for most cases to address the aforementioned issues.

the tax rate for trade enterprises will be set at 10%, for production enterprises - 7%, and for the catering sector - 12%. At the same time, the limit for turnover tax will remain unchanged at 120 million drams per year (equivalent to about $300 thousand), and if the business exceeds this threshold, it will be forced to switch to VAT and profit tax

At the same time, the final turnover tax rate will be lower in practice than the existing rates for certain businesses that properly document their activities.

retailers will be able to reduce their minimum tax rate from 1.5% to 1%, manufacturing companies from 3.5% to 3%, and the catering sector from 4% to 3.5%. Full report.

As of 2022, we had 56,000 businesses paying turnover tax. That's twice the number of businesses in the profit/VAT system. These turnover-based businesses paid only 2.3% of the share last year. This is a very low number. We need the tax system to be fair.
PASHINYAN: Our conclusion is that the turnover tax system has been promoting bad motivations. Our goal was to allow businesses to grow so we believed that by providing certain privileges, certain trampolines, to allow people to "kickstart" their businesses, it would allow them to grow and in turn grow the economy. The goal was to allow them to grow and exit the turnover tax system and enter the VAT system.
Today the turnover tax threshold is ֏120M so you pay turnover tax for under ֏120M, and VAT for turnover above ֏120M. For microbusinesses the annual turnover threshold is ֏24M.
The research shows that as soon as the business reaches this threshold, instead of using the trampoline to jump, it for some reason hits the brakes. It turns out that how well businesses perform on paper is mysteriously tied to whatever threshold we set. The turnover reaches ֏118.5M but never crosses ֏120M. This system promotes a shadowy economy.
It is time to gradually abolish the turnover tax system and set healthy motivations for businesses. If we want to have a country, we have to collect taxes. Having an independent state is the most expensive project in the world. Every looma you pay to the tax authority helps strengthen Armenia.
IRS CHIEF: Another amendment sets January 1, 2025, as a deadline for turnover tax businesses to improve their paperwork discipline. If we find discrepancies in the business's product inventory not explained by paperwork, we will be able to demand a 20% tax.
PASHINYAN: I don't get it. This system existed since the early 2000s. Does that mean for 20 years the tax code promoted and allowed illegal activities and we're fixing it only in 2025?
IRS CHIEF: (nods in approval)
PASHINYAN: Why did we not fix it sooner, after 2018? Can anyone explain how it slipped through the cracks? This is why we need to develop Armenia's institutions. This problem is everywhere. We have thousands of state employees presenting daily nonsense reports but not the important things. Sometimes I read stacks of documents, never understand anything at the end, and develop the impression that it's a ploy to keep you distracted from the important. Why are you grinning right now? I know you have all experienced this. Let's fix this.
We must step-by-step abolish the turnover tax and establish one taxation system in Armenia. Businesses that require help will receive help, but we must end this economic deformity. //
full, source,

government authorizes allocation of another $125 million to assist Nagorno-Karabakh refugees

It will keep the monthly payments going until December.
source,

Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan could swap parts of their territories to address border demarcation issues

KYRGYZSTAN: It's possible, but only after discussing it with border villagers. The border delimitation work is reaching its end. We have seen two conflicts and we have sustained losses among civilians and servicemen. People are concerned and there is fear among the border populations on both sides. In some regions, the border passes through communities but it's necessary to make mutual concessions, without which it will be impossible to resolve this.
source,

Russia expands the scope of anti-migrant retaliation to include citizens of Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan

About a thousand Tajik citizens, many of whom were students studying in Russian universities, were detained at the airports and borders. Now the same is happening to Uzbek and Kyrgyz citizens.
Russian NGO: The migrants are being arrested at the airport. They have accumulated around 4,500 people at airports since April 24, and a similar number was blocked on land borders. This is the first time restrictions are applied at this scale. We receive letters that the travelers are left without food, water, and toilet, and that their cellphones are being taken away without an explanation. Some of them got deported within 2 days, while others had to wait a week. //
Foreign ministries of Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan have urged their citizens not to travel to Russia. Tajikistan's MFA sent a note of protest to the Russian embassy.
source,source,

Georgia’s Western trajectory is at risk: U.S. government

STATE DEPT: The United States condemns the Kremlin-inspired “foreign influence” legislation advanced in Georgia’s parliament and the false narrative government officials have adopted to defend it.
Members of the ruling party have been clear that the intent of the law is to silence critical voices and destroy Georgia’s vibrant civil society, which serves as a critical check on government in any democratic nation.
The statements and actions of the Georgian government are incompatible with the democratic values that underpin membership in the EU and NATO
Comments mischaracterizing foreign assistance in Georgia – which we have provided for 32 years to strengthen Georgia’s economy, democracy, and ability to deter Russian aggression – fundamentally undermine the strong relationship.
source,

What is happening in Georgia? Protests continue in Tbilisi over the "foreign agent" bill.

The government says the law is necessary to protect the country from foreign influence and that it could be revoked/amended later if the EU decides to accept Georgia. The opposition says it's a Russian-style law that aims to punish pro-West NGOs and will derail Georgia's path to the EU.
UGULAVA (ex-mayor of Tbilisi): The vast majority of the population is against this law. If you take the speech by the ruling party leader Bidzina Ivanishvili and replace "Georgia" with "Russia", it won't be any different than the speeches made by Vladimir Putin. Ivanishvili publicly announced that the West is the enemy of Georgia. He even distorted history and announced that the 2003 Rose Revolution was a Western conspiracy. That is an identical copy of how Putin described the revolution. This angered many Georgians, who felt that they didn't "sign up" for this. Modern Georgians have two elements that shaped their identity: (1) Georgia is part of Europe and is a European nation, (2) the Georgian identity was formed during the struggle against the Russian Empire. The separation from the Empire was the biggest achievement of the 20th century.
Ivanishvili also announced that the October elections are a "formality" and that he plans to arrest his opponents as part of a "de-Nazification" crackdown. He plans to declare [Saakashvili's] United National Movement as an illegal organization. He said it point blank during his public speech. [needs fact-check]
REPORTER (RainTV, Russian opposition): Many observers have indeed noted how open and direct Ivanishvili's confrontation was with the West in his speech. He almost promised repressions against the opposition.
UGULAVA: This is a Putinization of Georgia. They have declared Georgia as part of the "Russian world" that must fight for traditional values, etc. but the population is against this en masse. Over 100,000 protesters took to the streets of Tbilisi, which is not a large city.
May 17 is Diversity Day [against anti-LGBT hatred] but the church wants to convert it to Family Day. They are provoking. On that day they [traditional value defenders] often organize mass unrest. This is what Putin does. Ivanishvili, the reactionaries at church, and Putin are operating in tandem.
source, [source,]

9th Crusade is officially launched in Armenia

Robert Kocharyan's MP son Levon Kocharyan's assistant released a statement after assaulting a pro-government journalist over a report critical of an opposition churchman and his involvement in businesses. Context in May 1 news.
KOCHARYAN's ASSISTANT: Yes, there was an incident between us. This young man has adopted a mission to discredit the church, which is unacceptable for me as an Armenian, as a Christian. I attempted to explain this to him in the backyard of the parliament building. It is my duty as an Armenian to defend the church. Spreading falsehoods about the church and its figures is an act void of morality. He accused me of the same, so I punched him once [you telling on yourself, bud, get a fucking lawyer]. He fell to the ground. He got up and started screaming at me but I didn't fall for his provocations. He yelled and said "but I didn't touch you". I told him "you touched my church", that's the same as touching me. //
He has been jailed for 2 months pending a trial.
full, source,

Edmon Marutyan has released a statement in support of opposition church figures and delimitation protesters

video,

update on "ծակվավ" story

The opposition activist who was seen poking a van's tire in Tavush is charged with a crime, and so is a 17-year-old who gave him the knife. Context in April 27 news.
source,

the construction of Park of Life is underway in Yerevan: VIDEO

Dedicated to soldiers, it will be located in Yerevan's Botanical Garden. There will be a pond, newly renovated cascade stairs, alleys, and a parking lot for 180 cars.
video,

what share of the IT workforce is Armenian?

Last year there were 34,000 registered IT workers, a +62% YoY.
44 percentage points of the 62% increase was caused by the influx of foreigners, mostly Russians.
Share of foreigners in the IT workforce:
2022: 4%
2023: 27%
The number of Russian IT workers in Armenia:
2023 Jun: 8,600 (peak)
2023 Dec: 8,300
The gross output of the IT sector:
2022: ֏585B
2023: ֏837B ($2.1B)
more,

the reptiles are among us

The Nature Ministry (which apparently still exists) responded to concerns raised by residents about an increasingly frequent encounter with lizards.
The ministry says there are 27 types in Armenia and almost half of them are in the Red Book so try not to kill them, they are benign, and they help protect crops by feeding on harmful invertebrates.
source,

I have read this subreddit for a couple of hours and was left unsatisfied on the subject of Macrodata Refinement, since the most common answer seems to be that there is a perception filter hiding what they are actually doing on their computer, but I find that hard to believe, especially because of time constraints.
Data Refinement is the kind of procedure that can be effectively accomplished at any point in a given time window. It expires, but they know exactly when it will expire and there is no added problem for taking long, as long as you do it under scheduled time.
So Dylan's theory and similars are incorrect. If they were killing dangerous eels, people trying to steal water supply or whatever else, they wouldn't be given a due date, it would be a much more dynamic process.
So they really must be just sorting numbers into bins, they are refining an already accomplished process. But what is that process that results in macrodata requiring refinement?
I have two theories:
The Deeper Innie Theory: There are LOTS of time skips on Severance, big chunks of time that we just assume some stuff happens. My theory basically consists that, during work hours, there is a third (maybe more) innie, doing the actual, inescrupulous work that results in data that is encrypted in the pool of numbers and must be retranslated appropriately through refinement.
I know this theory of multiple severances has been posted before, but I'd like to adress a few counter arguments and delve a bit deeper. First, the innies know how much time they've worked at Lumon (Mark says 2 years, for example), so if there was a second innie, they'd know. But not necessarily. Mark knows that he has worked for 2 years, probably measuring it in work days. If the second innie is on for just a few hours, they could easily not notice it and think they just spaced out for a couple of hours.
The line that "there is only 1 innie for now" can very well mean for the first season, and that more will be revealed later, as others have pointed out.
I think the best evidence for the second outie is Irving's panting, as I believe they are activated on the Test Floor, where Ms. Casey ends up. Otherwise, why would Irving have a recollection of that place? One that even bleeds through severance. He has been down there... But doing what?
In my opinion, what Lumon is all about, which I don't have a precise explanation to what is, but can guess their methods and reasons for a third innie.
They are basically trying to control the subconscious of their workers, making sure they repress what's harmful for their purposes while also using that exact same bleeding effect of the subconscious for Macrodata Refinement. They place a cluster of numbers somewhere very visible for the innie, who engages in some activity. Each activity is useful for Lumon and brings forth an intense emotion, tied to each of the tempers. They do them many, many times to get the numbers subconsciously attached to the temper they experience during each activity, so when they see the numbers on their screen, their subconscious flares up that emotion and allows them to categorize each cluster.
There was a real case of short term memory loss where the doctor handed the patient a maze to solve every single day. Each time he solved it, he did it faster, until he basically knew the answer right away. He had no idea how, but the reason was simple, his subconscious still retained the patterns and could reproduce them. Lumon is taking the deeper innie in and out of the maze, the innie refines what they do in the maze and the outie might be left with the memory of the transition, the dark corridor into said maze.
This might also explain Petey's refusal to follow Regabhi's instructions. Maybe he was starting to remember the most traumatic parts of his memories, that were fewer and so took longer to arise, and actually didn't want to live with them. We just didn't get to see them.
I also believe there is a lot of red tied to the deeper innies. I know people disregard the opening's clues to the story, but it was very clear that, even though it's creator wasn't clued in very much, he was being instructed by Ben Stiller and others. With that said, I think the red wearing innie, from the opening, is the deeper innie. Just like Ms. Casey, he wears red, and she is the first character we see actually go down the elevaror. And just like his outie changes clothes upon arrival, so does the innie when they become the deeper innie. Probably so whatever happens down there doesn't stain the innie's clothes. Which could also be why they wash their hands so much, to clean any remaining evidence from their bodies, so not even the innies would pick up on it.
And speaking of Ms. Casey, she actually counts the hours she has been in the severance floor. Why is that? Maybe she is afraid she might show up somewhere else and lose continuity of her actions? Maybe it's like overtime, where they can activate the deeper innie, place them back exactly where the innie previously was, then deactivate them. It would be as if a single frame skipped from their point of view.
Speaking of the intro again, we technically see 3 Marks. One with just a shirt and tie, the other with the red outfit and then one with a full suit.
The Coil Theory: The Coil of Doom. It's there, nobody notices it in the show, done. But not so fast! Like other redditors have pointed out, maybe it's an electric coil or something similar, which actually activates the severance chips.
I too believe that, but again, would like to theorize a bit further. The chip itself has a coil, that it's called it's "bowels" by Peg, from The Lexington Letter. Maybe they bigger coil resonates a frequency, which the smaller coil picks up on and that activates the severance. Or maybe, it influences the brain just enough, to maybe inflict a few emotions, tied to tempers, upon innies seeing certain clusters of numbers?
I have a strange feeling that MR is not profitable, more so an experiment. If you think about it, O&D is practically there to serve them. They make the paintings, that they can enjoy on their own of course, but that MR also looks at. They make the manuals, everything. Their main job is to subtly influence the minds of the other departments, but the ones that can appreciate most of their work is MR, because we don't see any paintings inside the baby goat department, or any member of another department roaming around. So MR really is important and worth the expenses.
Yet, their labor is pretty chill, so to speak. Almost as if them not meeting quota would be an unfortunate, but not quite catastrophic event, almost like an experiment that can, but preferably won't take it's time.
So my theory is that they are calibrating the Coil of Doom. It's sending it's frequencies that are picked up by the innie and, if they feel the right way, then it's proof it worked. That gathers Lumon data on how exactly to influence the human brain, so one day they can fully control a chipped one, which they hope will eventually be every brain.
They are basically trialing. The Coil is randomly trying and trying until it finally does something which influences the innie, which is why it takes a few weeks to work.
Maybe the Coil has more powers, like exploding a truck, maybe? Or influencing a passengedriver enough to make them explode a truck.
It could also be what causes the Break Room effect, slowly creeping into the innie's mind and making them hallucinate. The audio and data of the polygraph-like test Milchik puts them through could be calibrating the coil to that very purpose, so that when it finally finds the right vibration, it makes the innie surrender and truly feel sorry.
And those are my theories. Not exactly original, which I expected since I got into the show after I heard about it's second season coming up and binge watched it yesterday. But I'm fascinated by it and hope some nice discussions arise from here.
And hopefully not any "we knew about all of this already, you dum dum!" lol.

I drive a 1994 Ford F-150, started its life as a two-wheel drive inline 6 5-speed truck. Now has a factory 4x4 swap from an '89, all new joints and bearings in the drive line front and rear, new wheel bearings, Warn hubs, freshly rebuilt factory track lock rear with GT500 carbon fiber clutches and spring, crush sleeve eliminator, all new bearings and seals in the rear, new Ford racing ring and pinion, BW 1356 transfer case with new rear output bushing and seal, drive shaft rebuilt with new slip yoke, Dana Spicer heavy duty lifetime joints.
Years ago I took it up the Bald mountain Jeep trail in Washington and Jefferson national Forest, got it stuck in the deepest mud hole and had to spend the night until someone could pull me out in the morning (This was before I did the 4x4 conversion, and on stock tires). Since the 4x4 swap and track lock conversion, Even on stock tires, The only way I get stuck is if I get high saddled on the frame. But I also have a set of 31 1050's mounted on spare wheels ready to go, that I'll probably swap out at the trail next time I go running.
I just hate having to drive 3 hours on the freeway each way to get to the trailhead, This is major interstate with 80 plus mile per hour speeds. My truck has a hard time doing that on stock tires, and even more so if I put the 31s on. I'm getting like eight miles per gallon combined on the round trip, and the drive is super stressful, When literally every single vehicle on the road can accelerate and brake faster than me. Ideally I'd like to find something close to Richmond. It doesn't need to be super long or technical, Just somewhere where I can get the truck out and stretch its legs a little bit once in awhile. Something that I can hit after work...
Does anyone have any suggestions?

EDIT: had the 2 enums flipped
EDIT2: playground link https://play.rust-lang.org/?version=stable&mode=debug&edition=2021&gist=c06998e915b2b4aa44d58ec67d21eabb
EDIT3: Information from stack overflow, also curse the formatting gods
Hi, I'm creating a Bit enum to represent bits for a Bitstring I'm creating and I found some funky behavior. I have Into implemented for my Bit enum so I mindlessly used Bit as u32 in a test of mine, sort of assuming it was syntactic sugar for .into(). I ran some tests that failed, in trying to find the bug I spotted that my Bit enum was layed out like this:

pub enum Bit { On, Off, } 

On a whim I changed it to:

pub enum Bit { Off, On, } 

Thinking nothing of it. I reran my tests to see which test failed again and to my surprise 2 extra tests passed!
I did some extra digging, switching the On and Off back and forth and changing the as u32 into an .into() call. And it seems that as u32 completely ignores any Into implementations and just converts the bits. This sorta made sense, but how does that work for u32 as f64 for example?? You can't simply convert the bits there. What exactly does it do?
Looking at the suggested question on stack overflow, it seems that my Enum is instead using the TryFrom implementation (this is also implemented). But that doesn't make sense to me, why would rust use the TryFrom implementation that might panic over the specifically implemented Into? But even that explanation doesn't make sense because the TryFrom implementation specifically maps 0 to Bit::Off, 1 to Bit::On and every other value to an error.
For reference this is where I used the as u32:

fn bits_flipped(left: &BitString, right: &BitString) -> u32 { assert_eq!( left.len(), right.len(), "the length of the bitstrings is not equal. Left is {} and right is {}", left.len(), right.len() ); let mut difference: u32 = 0; for i in 0..left.len() { difference += (left[i] ^ right[i]) as u32; // This line was causing issues } difference } 

This is the macro I use for the Into implementation:

macro_rules! bit_into_type { ($t:ty) => { impl Into<$t> for Bit { #![allow(clippy::from_over_into)] fn into(self) -> $t { match self { Self::On => 1, Self::Off => 0, } } } }; } 

And finally this is the macro I use for the TryFrom implementation:

macro_rules! bit_try_from { ($t:ty) => { impl TryFrom<$t> for Bit { type Error = String; fn try_from(value: $t) -> Result { match value { 0 => Ok(Bit::Off), 1 => Ok(Bit::On), value => Err(format!("Cannot represent {} as a single bit", value)), } } } }; } 

I have the opportunity to possibly get a WT version as a work fleet truck. HOWEVER...I have only street parking in front of my house and my backyard which has access and a parking pad and a place for a charger is very narrow and crowded with trees and a creek and other things that I can't exactly relocate. I need to run my Maverick steering to stops to not end up in the creek without a multi-point K turn. That has a 40ft turning circle.
I keep seeing the 42ft turning circle but that is for the 4 wheel steering? On the chance I may get one that does not have this upgrade, has any one seen literature on how comically huge (its a Chevy after all) the regular steering versions turning circle is?

Welcome back to the Fallowveil trailer park, where the crack addicts have all seen aliens, the Witch is the glue holding the community together, and it’s been a whole six years since our last meth lab explosion. I never met you, but rest in peace Jones. I’m Mason, and I’ll be your janitor guide to the weirdness.
So I’ve talked about Jennifer, my paranormally sexy, but terrifying neighbor who lives with a married couple, strips under the name “Red Jenny,” and possibly eats people’s souls. She’s just the tip of the iceberg here in this town. I could go on and on about my neighbors. I have to do an entry on Trista the nocturnal hippy (maybe) vampire at some point. I have a feeling she’ll get a kick out of it. We’re actually pretty friendly, since we're both night shift workers. Frankly, she’s a bit too on-the-nose though. Pale girl, windows all blocked during daytime, only out at night, weirdly strong for such a skinny little person, drinks a mysterious fluid from a hip flask that she refuses to share, I mean… she’s either a vampire or a weird healthnut hippy and she dresses like she’s both. We’ll get to her eventually.
For now, let’s talk about the old “Schroeder Slaughterhouse.” The place has been a center piece of the town since it was created. It brought jobs to workers and brought lucrative meat processing trades into town, elevating it to more than just another ‘corn town.’ It’s also got horror stories going all the way back to its construction. Some say it’s been cursed by the devil himself.
I want to talk about this one because Trista talked me into going to one of Petunia’s barbecues last weekend. Not sure why she’s suddenly friendlier with me, but I’m not complaining. She couldn’t come with me of course, being a (probably) vampire and all. But hey, depression only gets worse in isolation. I should ask her out some time. Being a vampire might be fun…
So anyway, I went to Petunia’s cookout. Petunia herself looked up and actually cried out loud and power walked up to me to give me a hug. “Ahhh! I’m so glad to see you outside Mason! The neighborhood misses you!” I'm ninety percent sure that was a lie, but whatever. It’s comforting. I returned the older woman’s hug.
“Thanks Petunia. Couldn’t stay away from your cooking forever.” That got a few chuckles. To my surprise, a lot of my neighbors came up to shake hands with me. I was confused until one of them, a guy named Fred, who lives next door to me, leaned in to say “sorry about that friend of yours that died.”
So that’s what’s happening. Everybody heard about psycho Moe and how he’d dragged me to a strip club where he planned to go on a killing spree. Now they’re playing nice. That’s probably the only reason Trista’s being nice to you too. These people don’t really care about you. You’re worthless.
‘You know what, brain? You’re a real bummer. Now shut up while I try to be social.’ I shot back at my own conscience.
I finally worked out how to respond to Fred after a few seconds of awkward silence that made us both uncomfortable. “He wasn’t really a friend. Just a roommate once. The guy was messed up.”
Fred nodded sympathetically, rubbing at his mustache “Well sure. But that’s a heck of a… situation?” He replied.
“Yeah. I guess it is…” I tried to look thoughtful so nobody could see me rolling my eyes. “But hey! I think Red Jenny took care of it.”
Fred’s eyes widened at that. “No shit? Did he get… did he get a private dance?”
We were both interrupted by a silky smooth voice with a southern twang. “Glad to see you’re okay Mason. Try not to bring any psychopaths to my place of business, alright? It’s got plenty. Our poor bouncer had to headlock that guy.” She said all of this without even glancing towards us. Just sort of talking at the air as she sauntered by. She was glorious as ever, somehow making comfortable sweats look like a sexy bold fashion statement. Jennifer. Red Jenny. I hushed up as she stepped past us, and as she did, she cast a glance my way… and she winked.
Fred and I sat there partly struck dumb for a moment. That woman hardly spoke to anyone.
“Bouncer my ass.” Fred whispered to me. “That chick’s some kind of monster, I’m telling you. What did you see? She offered him a private dance didn't she?”
A few weeks ago I would have jumped at the opportunity to tell Fred everything I could about what I saw, but for whatever reason, I was less enthusiastic at the moment. “Yeah, she did, but I’m not really sure what happened. I was kinda stupified by the guns. She probably got a bouncer to help her, I really don’t know.”
“Never get a private dance from Red Jenny. Some say that’s a warning from wives, but the rest of us know it’s a warning from above. Something ain’t natural at that place.”
“I dunno Fred. But she works hard. I don’t want to badmouth her. Even if it was true, the guy she got was a wannabe killer. So she saved people.”
“Yeah, but how!?”
“I dunno man.”
Fred seemed to figure out I didn’t want to talk anymore about it by then. “Sorry, man. Must have been scary, either way. But hey! We all know you were asking around about Fallowveil’s spooky stories! Guess what!? A bunch of people who used to work at the old slaughterhouse are here! They’re all swapping stories by the grill! You should go listen!”
That piqued my interest. I used my phone to record as much as I could. I think I remember the rest. Now that I’ve looked at all my notes and stuff, I think I can provide a decent history of Fallowveil’s Schroeder Slaughterhouse. At least according to some of the people who worked there, as well as some who’ve lived here longer than me.
Most of the history came from a man named Willard Graves. He’s notorious for being really nasty when he’s drunk, and being one of the oldest people living in the trailer park at the age of 68. When I arrived at the bonfire where the group of workers had gathered, they were all swapping stories.
“I once felt a presence in the women’s restroom!” Said Polly Bucharest. “I was a floor manager in 2007. I was sitting in the stall there doing my business, nobody came in or out, but suddenly I just felt it. I got real freaked out. Like… goosebumps and everything. And feeling that way sucks in the bathroom. So I tried to hurry up and kicked open the stall so I could run to the sink… and the ‘shadow man’ was just standing in the corner. I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was just there, standing. When I turned to look, he was gone!”
“I saw that thing too! The shadow man!” Said Peter Swanson. “Damn thing was standing up in the corner, on the catwalk out in the main floor. Same thing. I was working, one of the cows didn’t go down right away, and I was leaning down to stun it again, then I felt real uneasy all of a sudden. Real scared. Finally I noticed the shadow up there!”
“That happened to me in the break room!” Said Juan Esposito. “I was eating lunch when I felt it. Then there was a shadow of a man, I think, in the corner of the room.”
“It was more of a shadowy blob on the wall for me,” said Polly.
“Any of you guys see the weird bird?” Asked Carlos Sanders. “I saw it once. End of my shift, back in 09. Me and a few of the boys saw it. You were there Juan! You remember?”
“I remember. I’m not really sure though, Carlos. That one might have been a vulture.”
“We see vultures round here all the time! That wasn’t a vulture! No clue what it was. Just some big flying shadowy thing that appeared at sundown and flew off after a while.”
“Lots of people said they saw a strange bird. That’s part of why some people think it’s cursed” claimed Jane Lopez. “I never worked there, but my husband used to tell stories. Some people say it’s an omen. If you see the bird over the slaughterhouse, something bad might be about to happen.”
“I remember the stories, Mama.” Said her son, Martin. “I worked the floor for three years. I never saw a creepy bird. I wonder if Papa was just telling stories again?”
“Maybe, mijo. But lots of people tell stories about that place.”
“How about the one cow that Mr. Kurt takes, like… once a week? Anybody know what’s up with that?” That was Juan again.
“No! And none of us can figure out where the cow goes either! It’s creepy!” Poly replied.
That’s when Willard loudly cleared his throat. Willard was a tough looking old bastard. Usually sporting a frumpy tank top, a grumpy face, and a bottle of something in one hand. “Y’all didn’t work there as long as I did,” he grumbled in his raspy old voice. He kept his head and eyes lowered, like some old cowboy trying to be dramatic. “Y’all know who that shadow even is? I know the ‘sh’tory!”
We were all interrupted by a shout from a very angry Petunia, who was a few yards away manning the grill. “DAMN IT Willard! What did I say!? One beer! One!”
“I only had one! I ‘sh’wear!”
“You’re slurring! If I catch you sneaking any more drinks I’m not giving you any ribs or any cookies!”
Willard’s tough old man act crumbled as he went wide eyed at the mention of cookies. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry Petty…”
“PETUNIA!!”
“Petunia! I won’t have anything else to drink!”
“Damn right! Last thing we need is you making an ass of yourself again!”
Willard sighed as we all hushed a few guffaws. “Anyway,” he said after an awkward pause. That shadow? Any of you know who it is?”
“One of the dead owners?” Said someone.
“One of the dead workers?” Said someone else.
“Nah, nah. It was the FIRST owner. The ghost of Heinrich Schroeder. The builder and owner of Schroeder Slaughterhouse!”
“How do you know?”
“I mean… I don’t, but that’s the oldest story I know about the place. Don’t any of you younguns know about the history there?”
“I don’t. Please tell the story!” I called from outside the circle of former Meat Processing workers, causing some of them to glance awkwardly at me.
“Well alright then!” Willard said with a grin that had less than a full set of teeth. “The place was built way back, right after the Civil War ended, when a bunch of immigrants from Germany started migrating to Nebraska, mostly to Omaha. But one feller…”
“Why did Germans come to Nebraska?” Asked a kid who’s name I didn’t know.
“What? I dunno. They just did. Hush. So this guy saw our little town of Fallowveil and its lush fields. He was in the sausage business before, but figured he could set himself up a slaughterhouse to process cows raised locally. Old Fallowveil was superstitious though. They were always wary of outsiders.”
“Why?” The kid asked.
“They just was. Everyone was after the war ended. Things changing fast, bunch of black folks are citizens and building themselves North Mainstreet, and Fallowveil’s weird. We all know that. Always has been.” Nobody could disagree there. “So. Since they were wary? They didn’t want to let Shroeder build. Supposedly you can find old documents with the town's rejection letters to Shroeder hidden away in the office of the old building. He tried for months. Then, with no explanation at all, they suddenly sold him an unused parcel of land. Nobody knows why, and that’s where a lot of folks think the devil’s curse began. They say Shroeder made some kind of deal with a demon to get them to sell the land to him. They’re the ones that made him follow their rules. Everyone remember the rules?”
“Hell, I had to follow those rules,” said Polly. “Most were pretty standard health and safety measures, but some were downright bizarre. 1. No loud noises in the back of the building. 2. One cow will be selected by the owner for personal reasons and won’t be slaughtered with the others. 3. Keep the blood drains clean at all times, but no specialized detergents. 4. Never agitate the animals. 5. Manure will be transported offsite. 6. Anyone caught past the fence line of the old building will be fired immediately…. There’s a bunch more that are all basically fcc regulations, only these days there’s extra.”
“It’s worth it!” Juan piped in. “The work we do there now got us awards! We make some of the best meat in the country! Pay is good too. No offense, friends, but we’re thinking of moving into a house, soon!”
Petunia cried out. “Ahhh Juan! That’s so wonderful! You’ll have places for your baby!” A bunch of others offered Juan their congratulations. There were also expressions of sadness. Thanks to Petunia? This neighborhood is really tight knit.
“We’ll miss you!”
“When do you leave?”
So on and so on. Juan’s a nice guy. I never got to know him, and I kinda wish I had now.
“Good to hear that place is finally shaping up!” Willard said with a small smile. “Maybe the curse on the place is lifting! Back when I worked there, safety and cleanliness were shit. All them extra rules about keeping the place clean, and the cows cared for, they weren’t there back then. Just the weird shit about noise in the back, staying away from the old building, and one cow being taken away every couple of shipments.”
“Can I ask a question?” I asked as Willard trailed off, lost in thought.
“Did you ever work in the place, new guy?” Asked Juan.
“No. I’m just curious about Fallowveil’s spooky stories. Lived here for a while, and heard em, but now I’m asking around.”
“Whatcha want to ask?” Willard wondered.
“Why is the old building even still there? The place where you all work is the building in the front, right? New building with state of the art equipment? Why keep the dilapidated old building from the 1860s? Anybody know?”
“Ah. That’s an interesting question. I’d guess nobody here knows that answer, right?” Willard replied. There were nods all around. “Nobody alive today worked in that building. Hell, it was fenced off and boarded up when I was a kid. Nobody really knows why it’s still standing. We all have our guesses. Some think it might have something to do with the devil’s curse. Some say the owners hope to cash in on its historic value. Not sure how. The place is a wreck. So it just sits back there.”
“And they’ll fire anyone who gets curious,” Polly added.
“Exactly. That’s one of the rules. Stay away from the old building. But anyway. Let me get back to the story. The old building, that’s the slaughterhouse built by Heinrich Shroeder. He ran the place for about twenty years. Lot of the newly freed black folks would work there. Nothing too nefarious went on back then, but all the same, everyone felt uneasy working there. Just like now, workers swore they saw ghosts. Place gained a reputation for being haunted. That only got worse over the years. Then came the ‘incident.’ I don’t remember the exact year. But at some point some kind of fire broke out in the slaughterhouse. It was after hours so there were no workers there at the time, but there was a herd of cows waiting there overnight. The fire only affected the inside of the building, but it still spooked the cows. They stampeded out of the pen and the next morning the town had cows everywhere. When the people searched the slaughterhouse, they found that not much of the equipment was damaged at all. Somehow some small section of the floor had lit up. And in the middle of it? They found the charred bones of Heinrich Shroeder.”
“What? How?” I asked skeptically. “You know how hot a fire has to be to melt off everything but bone? I don’t. But I know it’s pretty hot.”
“Oh I know. That’s part of the mystery. Nobody knows what happened. It was like some little explosion of heat just burned everything in this one spot on the floor, including Shroeder. The whole thing is unsolved. A mystery. Maybe it was arson. Maybe it was some sort of accident. Who knows? Anyone who works there could tell you though. That place is cursed. Our theory was, Heinrich went back on whatever deal he made to get the land, and the devil came to collect. Either way, the whole town was in shock. Shroeder’s family buried him at Kugler Mill Cemetery, then sold the place and moved to Omaha to be closer to family.”
“Who bought it next?” Asked the kid that kept asking questions.
“Local man named Jefferson. Man was a former slave owner who had a lot of trouble turning a profit after the war.”
“Also a horrible racist!” Petunia added from the grill. “You left that part out one time.”
“I did not! I didn’t think I had to say it! I said he owned slaves! Of course he’s racist!” Willard shot back.
“Just messing with you, you old cowpoke.” We all stopped to chuckle.
“ANYWAY. Jefferson was no great boss. Lot of stories about cruelty to workers and animals if the stories I once heard are true. He kept the name “Schroeder Slaughterhouse to keep some locals from realizing it was him. That’s how he hired a bunch of black folks. There were lots of accidents. Almost everyone who worked there left missing a limb, like me.” Willard held up his hand, and I noticed for the first time that he was missing two fingers on his right hand. “They were still using old band saws. Only took one wrong move” he added thoughtfully. “So Jefferson took over, but he kept all the weird old rules. Nobody knows why. But the place wasn’t a great place to be. Another fire broke out, this one was the Jeffersons son getting drunk on the floor and lighting a lantern. Three workers died there. There were other injuries, and shitty safety standards. One other stampede occurred, which was caused by the equipment falling apart cuz they never bothered with maintenance. You get the idea. All the while, everyone kept hearing tales about the ghosts. They eventually got the idea that the “rules” had something to do with the ghosts. People swore when they were louder in certain parts of the building, they were more likely to feel uneasy. We all know that story.”
“The Shadow” several people said in unison.
Willard nodded. “People thought it was the ghost of Shroeder. Made the rumors about a curse seem more real. The Jeffersons ignored their employees' discomfort for years. Then in the in 30s, another tragedy struck. The owner, Edgar Jefferson, personally came to oversee the installation of a brand new state of the art meat grinder to produce ground beef for local businesses. He was standing nearby, even though the construction crew told him to move away. He was bragging to news outlets and investors about his new machine, and how he wasn’t affected by the depression at all, and then, out of nowhere, a small earthquake hit. The meat grinder came loose from its crane and landed right on top of Edgar. He died immediately. Right in front of the terrified crowd.”
“No way.” Said someone from the crowd.
“Y’all can look this one up if you want. Library is bound to have the old papers. I heard this story from my very first boss. He was just a kid at the time. Said his dad witnessed the whole thing. One second Edgar was boasting, next, he’d been turned into meat jelly.”
“Please don’t ruin the barbecue, Willard” called Petunia.
He just rolled his eyes at that. “To make matters worse, the Jefferson’s local estate mysteriously caught fire a few days later. Nobody could find a cause. Nobody died, thankfully. The remaining Jefferson’s were spooked after that. They sold the slaughterhouse as well as four different cattle farms in town, and moved out of the state.”
“Who was next?” Came the child.
Willard ignored him. “The next person to buy the land was an industrialist who wanted to stake a claim on small town businesses. Rick Manson. He owned a restaurant in California. He bought up the cattle farms and built a new state of the art slaughter house right next to the old one. He was held up by world war 2, but when that ended, he got the place up and running. Nobody knows why he didn’t just tear the old building down and build on top of it. He was the first owner to leave it be. Supposedly, things started out decent under Manson. He brought lots of decent paying jobs raising cows and working in the slaughterhouse, and he kept the rules and added more for safety. Ran it like that for a good thirty years. That’s about when I started working there. Late seventies, early eighties. I can say without any doubt, that any good things people said about Rick Manson? They were lies. The man was a tyrant of a boss, at a time when we actually knew what hard work was.” I felt everyone else groan with me when Willard said that. “The guy used the cheapest equipment he could find and barely ever did maintenance. He also kept hiring immigrants to work the floor. The injury rates were incredibly high, and whatever workarounds higher ups thought they could get away with, they did. A lot of that was on the farms. The local farms were soon forced to use growth hormones, cheap corn feed, and other shady tactics to fatten the cows up faster. They made every effort to turn the small town of Fallowveil into a bigger meat processing plant. We all suffered for it. People died working in that place. Even more people lost fingers. And nobody ever held Manson accountable. Let me remind you, the place was still unbelievably haunted. The shadow was seen by everyone. People started seeing the weird bird too. Everyone was also pretty sure the owners were doing some kind of satanic rituals in the old building at night. There were stories about lights and weird sounds. The story me and my fellow workers believed was that the one cow that got selected and separated every now and then? They were sacrificing it in the old building.”
That proved a bit too much for me. “Wait… hang on. The place is already a slaughterhouse. Cows die there daily. What’s so special about this one cow? Do others not count?”
“Oh how am I supposed to know? You wanted to know what the stories were right? That’s all we got, nobody actually knows what’s going on in there. All we got are guesses. All we know is that someone always showed up, maybe once a week, and picked out a cow, and lead it away. We’re busy workers so no, none of us ever really saw where it ended up. We’re pretty sure it wasn’t put back on a truck. There’s no hidden field that we know of where they’re keeping them. So where the hell do these cows go?”
“I mean… I don’t know. Do they still do that?” I asked.
Juan answered me. “Yes. I’ve seen it happen. Mr. Kurt is the man who picks the cow. Once a week he picks a cow and leads it away from the others. Usually toward the back. Whenever we ask him where the cow went, he would just say ‘that’s private.’”
“Who the hell is Mr. Kurt?” Willard asked.
“He’s basically the general manager. He’s there everyday.”
“What about the new owner? ‘Antoora’ or however you say that?”
“Antuara. We don’t know. Nobody but Mr. Kurt has met him. It’s really strange. Kurt just says Antuara is a bit of a recluse.”
“Wouldn’t the FDA want to know what was happening with these cows?” I wondered.
“All the paperwork is done. The FDA has been here multiple times. They know one cow gets taken, and… they’ve signed off on everything. So I guess it’s nothing illegal.” Juan concluded with a shrug. “It’s really weird.”
“Huh. That place is just a giant old mystery. Does it ever end? You all know what happened to Mr. Manson?”
“Didn’t he die in a fire?” Asked Polly.
“Not just him. My last boss was the one that noticed this. But right before Mr. ‘Antoora’ bought the place ten years ago, it got bought up by a bunch of corporate goons. They wanted to compete with places like Tyson meats. They bought it after Manson's car was found exploded… with him in it, of course. That’s three different owners who were hit by fires, and two that were killed by fires. But that’s not all. Polly? You worked as floor manager while those corpo guys ran the place right? You remember why they ended up selling?”
“I was never told, actually. You and the boys had your stories, but I always figured it was our numbers. We weren’t doing as well. People weren’t going to local butchershops. I know there was one death…”
“It was another fire. And from what I hear it was ruled as an arson! To this day it hasn’t been solved. There were three deaths like that. And a meat packing plant in another state burned down. Not all of those were ruled as arson, but it’s a hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t y’all agree?” Willard said with a grin as he searched everyone’s faces. He had everyone enraptured by his mystery.
“It’s like the place really is cursed. Whoever owns Shroeder slaughterhouse… catches fire?” Said someone.
“Sure seems that way.”
“But Antuara is different. All the equipment is new, and he trained all of us extensively. We take breaks. We’re required to take breaks. And we clean everything. Then there’s the farms he bought. They don’t use any growth hormones or cheap feed. Hell, Mitchel Farm has enrichment toys for them. If the place was cursed, I have to hope it’s lifted now.” Juan spoke with conviction.
“But you still see the shadow and the bird, right? And nobody knows what happens to the one cow?” Willard said simply.
“Yes. That is true. Mr. Kurt has said he’ll look into the things that are causing our discomfort. But what can anyone do about a ghost?”
“Like I said. That place is cursed by the devil. Years of cruel practice, spilled blood, and bad deals. The owners get burned, the workers suffer, but it just keeps churning out meat. And of course, it’s here in the town of Fallowveil, where witches roam free…”
“As do old assholes” added Petunia
“The woods have a monster, the Hotel is in the damn Twilight Zone, and everyone’s seen something unnatural. The place is still cursed, mark my words. Unless they tear that old building down, it’ll probably stay cursed.” With that, Willard concluded his story. He raised a bottle of beer to his lips, but before he could drink, Petunia appeared and swatted the bottle right out of his hand.
“What the hell did I tell you Willard. No more god damn beer!”
“Sorry Petunia.”
The rest of the day was nice. I ate food, hung out with neighbors, played some horseshoes, drank some beer. It was great. The circle of meat packing workers had a few more tales, mostly about the Shadow showing up to scare people, or a weird thing someone saw around the old building.
I wasn’t sure what to think, really. I’ve never actually been to the place. I know that working in a slaughterhouse sounds like a really depressing, dangerous, and messy job that I never ever want. That’s for sure. I had no idea missing limbs were so common.
I looked up some of the stuff Willard said. It seems he wasn’t embellishing much. There really were owners who died in fires and one who got squashed by his own equipment. I can see where belief in a curse comes from. Interestingly, Juan was right too. Fallowveil has received awards for its high quality beef in recent years. The stuff is so good that some of the food network shows have started showing up to do segments and visit local restaurants. Mostly Nerd Burger. Nerd Burger is incredible. The Spicy² burger is hands down, the best burger in the universe and nobody will tell me otherwise. I didn’t even realize it contracted with Antuara meats, but there you go.
I shared all of this with Trista later that night, and as a result, we went on adventure together. I wonder if it was a date? She wore her regular clothes. Try to imagine a sixties Hippy who got a makeover from a goth. She wore a sarong around her waist that would dance around her legs, with the breeze. It was black as pitch, with a few flowery designs sewn in. She halos wore a black hand made tank top, black knee high boots, and her stoner beanie hat that read “total witch.” Seriously. How else can I describe that other than Hippy/goth or Hippy/vampire. She’s weird, and she’s really skinny, but damn it… she’s really pretty. And a lot of fun to hang out with. She might have supplied us with something to smoke that may or may not be legal in this state so I’ll say no more there.
But anyway, we were chatting after sundown, and I told her all about the stories of the Slaughterhouse. “Ugh. That place. Look at me. I’m a hippy. I can’t call myself a vegan, but I still morally oppose the meat industry.”
“Why can’t you call yourself a vegan?”
“I… have a specialized diet.”
“What’s that mean?”
“None of your business, jerk!” She socked my shoulder playfully, which made my whole arm go numb.
“Ow! You are like 140 pounds, max. How are you so damn strong?”
“Maybe you’re just weak. So the slaughterhouse is cursed? Wanna go see it?”
“I… like… Right now?”
“Sure! You don’t work for another hour, right? The hotel can manage without me if I’m late by a few minutes. Come on! I hear you’re more likely to see weird things if you go at night!”
How could I say no? So I drove us to Antuara Meats, formerly known as the Schroeder Slaughterhouse, and got a look at it for the first time in my life. The main building is pretty unremarkable. Just a factory type building next to a big field. We pulled into the parking lot and got as close to the fence as we could, so we could see what we really wanted. The old building.
“Christ. Why is it still standing? Place looks like it should be condemned.” Trista said as we got out and peered through the fencing.
“Yup. Boarded up windows, overgrown ivy everywhere, everything one needs to make a nice creepy atmosphere.”
“How romantic!” She quipped. I’m glad she couldn’t see the confused blushing I did after that. “It definitely smells like blood and rot around here.”
“It does? All I smell is… I’m guessing that’s cow poop?”
“No. It’s metallic. Smells like old blood.”
“You are such a vampire.”
“Har har.”
“Seriously, I don’t smell blood. I can’t see much. It’s too dark.”
“Not much to see. Though I think I see the cow.”
“The cow? What cow? And no way in hell can you see out here. There’s clouds out!”
“Eat your vegetables Mason. It’s good for your night vision.”
“Vampire says what?”
“Nope.”
“So you see a cow? A live cow? Where? Maybe I have a night vision app or something. I dug my phone out of my pocket.
“Yeah, there’s a cow standing out behind the old building. Maybe a hundred yards.”
“I don’t care how good your night vision is, how could you see that far?”
“Will you give it a rest? Not my fault my eyes adjust better than yours.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be an ass…”
“It’s okay Mason, I’m mostly messing with you. There is a cow there though.”
I held up my phone and zoomed as far as I could with the night vision on. She was right. A loan cow stood in an open field behind the slaughterhouse. There were no fences back there, so I wondered if it had gotten loose and just wandered its way to the spot. “Huh. You’re right. There’s totally a cow there. It’s not on the property either.”
“So… you found the missing cow. But I gotta ask. You doing okay? That shit with the Red Nights club was crazy. Anyone would be messed up after that.”
That annoyed me. I’m not sure why. “You think I’m messed up?”
“Well, yeah, that’s why I hang out with you. We’re both messed up. But like… this is seriously messed up. Not fun messed up.”
“Is that the only reason we came out here? Did Petunia put you up to this?” I turned toward her.
“Yes. But no. Petunia is worried about you. And so am I. You’re one of the few regular friends I’ve got. And someone almost shot you.” I saw genuine concern in her violet eyes. She stood there, twiddling nervously with her hands, only partly illuminated by the nearby streetlights, making her pale complexion shine. A strange gust of wind kicked up and blew her wavey Raven black hair prettily across her face.
‘Oh fuck. You’re getting feels. Stop that. You’re just lonely, and she just feels bad.’ I wrestled with my thoughts for a moment before replying. “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just burying it. I’m okay. At least I think I am. Maybe I'm still processing.
“Uh. Hold that thought, Mason. The cow is gone.”
“What?” I looked back and held up my phone. There was no cow in the field anymore. “Where? How? There’s nowhere for it to go!?”
“I didn’t see anything. It was there a minute ago, now it’s just gone. Wow. That’s creepy. This place really is cursed.”
“Could it have fallen in a hole or something?”
We actually spent a few minutes searching for a trace of the bovine, but we didn’t find anything. There’s no way the thing ran off in just a minute. So what the hell happened to it? It just vanished. Both of us felt a little unsafe after we reached that conclusion. So we headed home and then went off to our respective jobs. Now here I am. A fully grown cow disappeared before my eyes at a haunted slaughterhouse, and somehow I’m still more concerned with whether or not I should ask Trista out or just enjoy her friendship. But that shit is my business.
I did a bit more reading about the slaughterhouse. police have been called to the place over the years, and they found nothing. There’s even been people that signed papers and got to enter the building legally. There was even a ghost hunter once. They didn’t really find anything interesting either. There’s something weird about that place though. No doubt about it. It’s brought tragedy, creepy stories, and delicious hamburger to our town for generations. Given how delicious locally raised beef is? I'm cool with the place doing whatever it’s doing.

SS: I consider myself a pre climate change refugee. I discovered collapse roughly six months before COVID hit, and it quite possibly saved my life. You guys told me the sky was falling, and in many ways, it was and did. I was able to use the heads up to stockpile some food in my shitty little apartment in Vegas. Then SHTF and they shut down the Vegas Strip. Driving that road with no traffic felt like it was straight out of the apocalypse. Unemployment shot up to over 20% overnight. I had just enough saved because of the forewarning to endure 9 months of fighting for pandemic unemployment. It was hell.
During the shutdown, I learned a lot. I knew that Lake Mead was drying up and that the Colorado River would likely be on the front lines of the water wars one day. I took my nice little unemployment lump sum, bought a used truck and camper and said goodbye to sin city. Because I recognized that even beyond COVID, shit was about to get real, I got very aggressive, stacked some money, and bought an acre with a well and septic system to park my RV on and to build my collapse homestead.
The backstory is important to understand that where I am now has been five years in the making. I have built gardens, planted fruit trees, built an indoor vertical garden, added a shrimp pond, job hopped until I found an easy job that does not require overtime to make a thriving. I come home everyday to work on my slice of earth. I have learned to grow food year round. I am close to as ready as I can be for whatever mess is coming out way in the next year or few.
Now I will get to the point. Winter is not much of a thing where I live anymore, so I work outside as much as possible. This year, physical fitness is my main goal. It is only May, and we are close to 90 degrees when we should be closer to 70. Working outside is getting harder. Hitting the treadmill is getting harder. Riding the exercise bike is getting harder. So, like my strategy for the last few years, now I am trying to adapt to higher temperature now, before I'm forced to. My neighbors are all hiding in the AC. I don't have time for that, so I continue.
What I'm getting at is that no matter how fit you are, raising the temperature ten degrees is a different ballgame. We are seeing temperatures well over ten degrees above average in many places already. Are you working on this brutal new normal coming out way? How and what are you doing? What other adaptive strategies are you using?
Disclaimer: I am not arguing that you should or should not prep. You do you. I'm not arguing that you should get in shape. You do you. I am interested in a conversation with people who are actively trying to get ready for a rapidly heating near future. I am also aware that at some point, the oven will get too hot for us poors and it will be game over. I am merely trying to level up a few more times before that happens.

Hi There.
I just started modding games and I'm trying to figure out if there's a way to launch my modded game from armory crate. As far as I can tell, you can only add EXE's to Armory Crate (AC), which makes sense.
For context, I'm trying to add Tale of Two Wastelands (TTW). I've set up my mod profile for it and created a shortcut for it on the desktop and that's what I use when I want to start the game. I've been doing it manually so far and that works fine but I'd like to make use of the configuration profiles in AC. Even when I start TTW while docked, it's still running in silent which leads to a lot of stuttering in the game. If I manually change the profile to turbo, the stuttering disappears.
I tried using a BAT to EXE converter and that was a big hassle trying to figure out what converter to use and how to make it use the icon I want. I ended up settling on installing Visual Studio and creating an EXE that just runs the shortcut I created. I was able to add that to AC and the icon shows up. I just have to see if it works as I expect.
Does anyone know if there's a way to add EXE's to AC with launch parameters? I'm using Mod Organizer 2 (MO2) and the way TTW gets launched via my shortcut is by executing MO2 with some launch parameters. This would make this whole process WAY easier.

I haven't edited this, but here it is, all 9 pages, for your reading pleasure. I am very excited to hear your opinions on my critique, and what you thought about it. I loved the book, and I'm very ready to watch the movie in a couple days. I had so much fun reading it. Thank you for reading! -Ari
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An Analysis of Turtles All the Way Down, in lieu of the movie*,* from a feminist and communist perspective
When talking about mental illness, especially with a book like Turtles All the Way Down, one has to acknowledge the sense of isolation and feelings of catastrophizing that come with the mental health crisis brings. The first time you have a mental health breakdown, especially when you’re not a seasoned veteran, dealing with the first hospitalizations and medication stabilizations, one doesn’t know what to expect.
From personal experience, the book talks about the situation in a couple of weeks, but in my personal experience, it took months to stabilize myself, get my meds right, to leave the hospital, and I wasn’t “myself” again for another six months after leaving the hospital because the medication they had put me on had inevitably turned me into a zombie. But, of course, mental health journeys are not all the same, and not everybody’s experiences are the same. Sometimes, it takes longer, sometimes less.
But, I think it is worth talking about Aza’s journey from a literary standpoint from a communistic and feminist perspective because it talks about the human experience that real people find themselves in in the real world, in real circumstances, especially when it comes to the value of the mentally ill in society, the roles we place on our care givers and support systems around us, and the dangers of turning everyone around us into a caregiver (such as “caregiver’s fatigue” or “codependency”).
“I felt my stomach begin to work on the sandwich, and even over everybody’s talking, I could hear it digesting, all the bacteria chewing the slime of peanut butter- the students inside of me eating at my internal cafeteria”. (Green 2) When Aza talks a lot about her OCD, she mentions the idea of C.Diff bacteria eating away at her, and depersonalizing (not feeling like a real person, or being a fiction). I think it’s important to talk about the nature of her mental illness, about the symbolism of the disease because, in the context of the book, she technically is a fictional character, and that her fears are not unfounded in the sense that we are reading about a fictional character afraid that they’re a fictional character. And that there’s a strangeness in that there’s an awareness that she’s experiencing that maybe the other people around her aren’t experiencing, on some level that is perceived as mental illness, but is hyper alertness or hyper awareness.
The sense of depersonalization is the fact that she is being controlled by the writer, John Green, who wrote the book about her, and the sense that she is not in control of her actions is also, not unfounded.
So, there’s a sense of irony when describing her mental illness because it should be given with care and compassion because the irony is that, she is a fictional character, and the things she’s experiencing are real, and they shouldn’t be understated or devalued in any meaningful way in the same way that for a lot of mentally ill people the experiences that they have have value to them and what they are experiencing are real to them and what they are experiencing feel real to them.
“You know how old people lose all shame about eating, and it makes you puke to watch them? (Burroughs 6)”
“They can consume us like parasites, eat us, drink us, and leave us lifelessly prostrate. And yet we are always inviting the parasite as if we are eager to be drained and eaten. (Bellow 62)”
The thing about her friend, Daisy, which I found fascinating in the book is that, from a feminist perspective, although Daisy calls her “Holmsey” which refers to Sherlock Holms, Daisy is slated as a main character type who is always chatting away and leading the show and being the person who is leading in situations. In fact, it’s to the point that Aza turns Daisy into a mother figure and has her, at several points throughout the novel, direct her actions like her own mother does.
“And we will improve your mood until you are able to say three or even four words in a row; sound good?”
“Sounds good.”
“And then you can take me to work, Sorry, but I need a ride.” (Green 8)
There are several references to Daisy even being about the same physical statue as her mom, to the point that Daisy has physically reduced all the women in her life to one role: caretaker and sees them as one overseeing entity.
“Daisy was about my mom’s size…”. (Green 20)
This serves a purpose in that she feels incapable of being autonomous to herself because her mental illness has depersonalized her and made her out-of-control of her actions. It’s very much like she is like Mychal, who is physically described as a baby by Daisy (and, at first, is physically repulsed by the idea of being in a relationship with, but still gets into a relationship with him). Daisy is constantly taking care of the people around her. Her mother is constantly taking care of Aza, even to the point of, during her breakdown, carrying her from her bed to the bathtub, and back again, much like a baby.
And this is because society thinks, through the communistic perspective that mental illness renders us useless and infantilizes us. And, we see that several times throughout the novel that Daisy vents her frustration for Aza in her fanfictions by calling Ayala, the character that represents Aza, as “useless” which embarrasses Aza.
Capitalistic society demands that we constantly prove our worth and value to the system every day by proving our fitness, lest we become infantilized and are deemed “useless”. Though we will receive love, care, and support from those around us, the people who deem us mental ill might never see us as “normal” or “functional” to the needs and wants of the system in a way that is useful to the system.
Which is where Davis comes in as a very interesting character as well as the symbolism of the White River.
“The White River is beautiful in the abstract- blue herons and geese and deer and all that stuff- but the actual water itself smells like human sewage. Actually, it doesn’t smell like human sewage; it smells of human sewage, because whenever it rains, the sewers overflow and the collective waste of Central Indiana dumps directly into the river.” (Green 19-20)
We learn that the reason for the smell is Pickett’s Engineering mishandling funds to set up a tunnel system would handling the Sewage Retention Systems for when it rained in Indianapolis. Pickett got the money twice, for contracts that were mishandled, making him very rich, and through bribery, but the tunnels were never finished.
At the end of the novel, his body was found in the tunnels, dead, which is a strange fitting end for someone who tried to escape through tunnels that he was never able to complete, but also sad, because he had explained that he would try to outlive death by trying to leave his money to his pet tuatara.
It is the use of wealth in the novel that is very interesting from a communistic perspective because the mishandling of funds got Pickett his wealth, and destroyed the natural resources of the White River’s natural beauty, thus alienating the natural resources enjoyed by the citizens. But, at the same time, the tunnels that were unfinished later became co-opted as a guerrilla effort to beautify an ugly space that was mishandled by the bourgeoisie and average citizen to create an art space, in which Mychal showcased the seemingly popular “Prisoner 101” piece.
Also, the wealth that Pickett received from the mishandling of funds was later redistributed after his disappearance in smaller amounts to his children, unsuspecting bystanders of the affected nature of his actions, as well as Aza and Daisy for their silence, active bystanders in the investigation in the form of $100,000.
“We are about to live the American Dream, which is, of course, to benefit from someone else’s misfortune. (Green 23)”
The misfortune that Daisy and Aza had profited from was the disappearance (and later death) of Pickett himself.
“He freely gave to charity/ He had the common touch /And they were grateful for his patronage /And they thanked him very much /So my mind was filled with wonder /When the evening headlines read/“Richard Cory went home last night/And put a bullet through his head.” (Simon, Garfunkel)
But, it supported their college fund, and continued future that would assure their ability to have a more sustainable future without worry or care, a redistribution of wealth in the circumstance.
“But maybe the money is just part of me. Maybe that’s who I am. A moment later he added: What’s the difference between who you are and what you have? Maybe nothing. (Green 78)”. The struggle that Davis had was that he felt as though he weren’t good enough for Aza because of his wealth, that it made him inferior because it made him pompous, that because he because he only had material things to give her, especially in the eyes of her mother, that he was pompous, egotistical, and arrogant.
“They say love flies out the window when poverty comes in the door, but people get the sense backwards. (Dazai 81)” From the feminist perspective about Davis, he was the poorest person in the group because he lacked a mother figure, which is something that everybody else had, and that what everybody else was rich in, experience, which can’t be exchanged for material possessions, are one of the inalienable things, like people.
It’s why have been proven, in communistic theory to be important, though they aren’t necessarily providing a working function to the system because they provide intrinsic value elsewhere.
“The capital given in exchange for labor power is converted into necessaries, by the consumption of which the muscles, nerves, bones, and brains of existing laborers are reproduced, and new laborers are begotten … the individual consumption of the laborer, whether it proceed within the workshop or outside it, whether it be part of the process of production or not, forms therefore a factor of the production and reproduction of capital; just as cleaning machinery does. (Rivkin, Ryan 903)”
That’s quoting Marx, which places inherent value on women, though lesser value and seeing them as wives, mothers, and cleaning machines, as part of the labor force, just unpaid labor force.
The whole point is that Davis saw her as normal because he himself seemed to be struggling with mental illness himself, and that his wealth deemed him privilege to be seen as normal. And, a lack of a support system didn’t get him always the adequate care he needed in order to be taken care of, that he had to be a “strong man” or “man up” and take care of his brother and be the support system (thus, from a feminist perspective, it seems as though the infantilization of mental illness only falls towards women because we often ignore the problems of men’s mental health struggles).
And, as well, it seems as though, through this normalization that Davis did for her, he allowed her to be seen in a way that provided her support, and as well as giving her financial support was able to provide for her in a meaningful way in her future that would change her life and make it so that she was able to provide for herself, despite the fact that, at the end of the novel, she would see many future struggles, but she would be able to gain the autonomy she needed to be a fully fledged, realized human being in order to take care of the next generation.
“Merrick: Ladies and gentleman, thank you… for revealing yourselves tonight. I’ve always found that when I have had an audience, they learn nothing true of me.. But I see what’s real in them. And, if they are lucky, they go home a more honest version of themselves. (A beat.) Maybe that is only what I wish to believe… that my visage could bring some good… (a longer beat.) I’m tired. I’m so very tired. (Martin 50)”
I think there is a fine line of being seen with mental health struggles and being infantilized, and it’s so hard to walk it because most people are trying the best they can do to make people feel supported and loved. So, if you’re helping and supporting someone who has a mental illness, know that what you’re doing is the best you can, and it’s always appreciated. I know with my family they have made mistakes, but it’s what we all learn along the way.
I think my mom has said it best, “we are fragile, fallible creatures who are not perfect, we’re only trying our best with what we know at the time.” And nobody sees the value in you more than your support system. Though, turning everyone into your support system does have immediate benefits, there are problems with being infantilized and being resented, as shown in the book, and working through that to have healthy relationships that are more mature is the way that we work to undo those things in adulthood.
Works Cited
Bellow, Saul. Dangling Man. Penguin Classics. New York: 6 September 2006.a
Burroughs, William S. Naked Lunch. Grove Press. New York: 1959.
Dazai, Osamu. No Longer Human. New Directions Publishing. 1948. Green, John. Turtles All the Way Down. Kindle Edition. New York: 2017.
Martin, Del. The Elephant Man. Your Stage Partners. 2023.
Rivkin, J., Ryan, M. (20170123). Literary Theory: An Anthology, 3rd Edition. [[VitalSource Bookshelf version]]. Retrieved from vbk://9781118718384
Simon, Paul and Garfunkel, Art. “Richard Cory”. Sound of Silence. Columbia Records, 1966. Transcript of Lyrics.

Asking for some advice. I’m worried I made a mistake 1 year into purchasing my truck.
I currently have a 2015 Ford F150 4x4 3.5L Ecoboost with 115k miles I bought for ~27,500 about a year ago. Within 2 weeks of buying it a year ago, I had to put an extra $6k in getting the catalytic converter and front end replaced. Since then it’s had a few minor issues here and there but my overall maintenance $$ in a year has been about $7,500, which does not make me feel good. I still owe about $14,500 on my truck but I am REALLY considering trading it in and taking on more debt to grab a Tundra or Tacoma just for reliability and safety. But I can’t decide if I am over reacting or if I should expect the maintenance on this truck to keep piling on. I just don’t want the headache and the extra $$ on a regular basis.
Does anyone have any advice they can share? Should I just cut my losses?