Still blueprints
ImaginaryUnofficial
2018.04.21 00:48 Lol33ta ImaginaryUnofficial
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2018.10.04 04:59 NekoPafu Call of Duty: Mobile on Reddit
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2009.10.03 04:16 carpe_noctem Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Reddit
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2024.05.17 10:08 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 100.000$+ INVENTORY. BFK Lore, Gloves Amphibious, Skeleton Fade, Bowie Emerald, BFK Auto, Gloves MF, Talon Doppler, Gloves POW, Bayo Tiger, Gut Sapphire, Stiletto MF, M9 Ultra, Ursus Doppler, Flip Doppler, M9 Stained, Nomad CW, Paracord CW, AK-47 X-Ray & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77
★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87
★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41
★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39
⎯★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28
★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15
⎯★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93
★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18
★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83
★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41
★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25
★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80
★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96
★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79
⎯★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11
★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78
★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88
★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79
⎯★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05
★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24
★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42
★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37
★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66
★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18
★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13
★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83
★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02
★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44
★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54
★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81
★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81
★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82
★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46
★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08
⎯★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48
★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12
⎯★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26
★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77
★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49
★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51
★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94
★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99
★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92
★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03
★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22
★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40
★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46
⎯★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93
★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43
★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16
★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95
GLOVES
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67
★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33
★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88
★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21
⎯★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00
★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28
⎯★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29
★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73
★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32
⎯★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01
★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55
⎯★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94
★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55
WEAPONS
AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95
AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95
M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43
AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38
StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64
P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03
AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00
M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48
AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97
StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96
StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85
Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42
AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
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2024.05.17 10:05 MYSFITS_OFFICIAL Children of Sol 59
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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.
submitted by MYSFITS_OFFICIAL to HFY [link] [comments]
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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.
2024.05.17 09:57 wannaeatramyeon Become a Digital Marketing Rockstar: Top Courses in Navi Mumbai Compared!
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IMSkills
submitted by wannaeatramyeon to u/wannaeatramyeon [link] [comments]
When looking for digital marketing courses in Navi Mumbai, several reputable institutes stand out for their quality training and industry-relevant curriculum. Institutes like IIMSkills, IIDE, Anuvaa, and Freelancers Academy offer comprehensive programs covering essential digital marketing modules such as SEO, PPC, and social media marketing.
IMSkills
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2024.05.17 06:39 xspectred You're *still* wrong about Skipping
And it's my fault. I haven't done a good enough job explaining it yet. Let me try again.
Imagine a run is only 5 normal rounds long (after which you face the final boss as round 6).
Obviously, this is not true in the game, but it'll make the explanation more readable, for now. Ok, 5 rounds. And let's say for example, your economic output is $5 for the first round, $10 for the second, and up to $25 in round 5 (before you face the boss in round 6).
There's actually a lot of nuance possible here. In early rounds, you can get away with using Joker slots for value generators. Later, you will need to score more, so you will likely have fewer value generating Jokers, if any. However, you make also have non-Joker value generators in your deck in later rounds, such as Gold Cards and Seals, either Gold, Purple, or Blue.
On top of that, the value of your money is contextual, too. When you have Overstock or Reroll Vouchers, you get more value per dollar spent. Conversely, a large influx of money at the start can generate interest most obviously but can also be reinvested in value-generating Jokers. Even just being able to score more per hand in early rounds means using fewer hands each round (and getting money from leftover hands).
If you find a Blueprint in the first shop, it actually costs $15+ in the long run because it'll cut into your ability to earn interest. It's better to find it in round 4, when you already have an excess of money in the bank (and might actually have a Joker worth copying by then). In this way, Jokers (and Consumables) in earlier shops "cost more" compared to Jokers in later shops. Naturally, late game Jokers "cost less," and the same amount of money "can afford more" material.
Also, once you can afford it, you can buy Tarot Cards from the shop and then hold them to use in the next round. Playing more rounds means more opportunities to use Tarot Cards, among other things. When shopping in the late game, it is highly beneficial to hold onto Planet Cards you don't want, to prevent duplicates of those bad cards from showing up in the shop. While blocking duplicates (when you can afford to), each Celestial Pack has a higher chance of giving you what you want and is therefore "worth more."
Anyway, $5, $10, and so on, up to $25 in the last round. Just a thought experiment.
Most skips increase your ability to score rather than giving you an economic boost. Suppose you skip round 1 and receive a random Holographic Joker, but your other Jokers, your Deck, and Cash in the bank (for interest) don't change. In round 2, you're earning the same $5 you would have earned in round 1. $10 in round 3, $15 in round 4, and finally $20 in round 5.
You miss out on the $25 you were previously going to make in round 5. If round 2 would have had a value generator in the shop (Joker or Seal or Devil Tarot), you still get it, you just get it one round later (in round 3, having skipped round 1), and you have one round less of it generating value for you.
All Common Jokers and most Uncommons are "Perishable" in practice, even if they don't literally have the Perishable sticker. Common Jokers get replaced by more powerful Uncommons later. Uncommons giving +Mult or +Chips become obsolete later when you have higher level Poker Hands and more Enhanced Cards in your deck. That Holographic Joker you skip for will almost certainly be replaced by the end.
In contrast, economic bonuses translate into permanent increases to your scoring output. Late game money allows you to pick up higher impact Jokers more easily, xMult Jokers which will never go out of style. Planet Cards from Celestial Packs as well as Enhancements from Arcana and Standard Packs are permanent buffs which don't take up your highly limited Joker slots.
Seeing more shops has value. Having more Jokers to choose from has value, even if you don't buy all, or even many, of them. That's why shop rerolls cost money. Even more important to see more Booster Packs. On one hand, you probably don't buy Boosters in the first two shops anyway. However, if you skip for a Holographic Tag, it doesn't change the amount of money you have and doesn't change the fact that you can't afford Boosters in the next two shops.
In the 5-round example, taking one skip means seeing only 8 Boosters instead of 10 Boosters. Most importantly, those 2 Boosters are subtracted from the end of the run. You miss out on seeing those Boosters when you would actually have the money to buy them.
All this being said, early scoring boosts are incredibly valuable. Having just one +Mult Joker means you have one-shot the first 5 rounds of the game. You can dedicate 100% of your resources to building your bank without any risk of dying. The first +Mult Joker multiplies your scoring output by 5 to 6 times. In contrast, if you don't find any scoring help before round 4 (Ante 2 Small Blind), it has a good chance of being fatal. Therefore, being able to guarantee a +Mult Joker in Ante 1 might be worth as much as $20. Even if it's Perishable.
Separately, the Investment Tag for $25 is balanced around Antes 2 and 3. It was designed to be conditionally "worth it" in those Antes and almost always not worth it by Ante 4. It was not at all balanced around Ante 1. In Ante 1, it's definitely overpowered, always take. Because of Interest, getting $25 at the start of a run hits way different than picking up $25 later on.
Skip Tags in general were designed to have a less than 10% pick rate on average, meaning at most 2 skips per run, with most of those happening in Ante 1 and the rest happening in Ante 2 or 3.
However, the game is easy enough that it's still winnable at a high rate even when not playing optimally. Long streaks of Gold Stake wins are possible even when not playing 100% optimally.
Sometimes a skip is a gamble which doesn't payoff. Even if you end up skipping for literally no payout, the game is still winnable.
Aside from Investment Tag ($25, which wasn't balanced around Ante 1) and to a lesser extent Coupon Tag, skipping is very much not worth it. Regardless, skip if you find skipping fun. You won't necessarily be super punished for it.
submitted by xspectred to balatro [link] [comments]
Imagine a run is only 5 normal rounds long (after which you face the final boss as round 6).
Obviously, this is not true in the game, but it'll make the explanation more readable, for now. Ok, 5 rounds. And let's say for example, your economic output is $5 for the first round, $10 for the second, and up to $25 in round 5 (before you face the boss in round 6).
There's actually a lot of nuance possible here. In early rounds, you can get away with using Joker slots for value generators. Later, you will need to score more, so you will likely have fewer value generating Jokers, if any. However, you make also have non-Joker value generators in your deck in later rounds, such as Gold Cards and Seals, either Gold, Purple, or Blue.
On top of that, the value of your money is contextual, too. When you have Overstock or Reroll Vouchers, you get more value per dollar spent. Conversely, a large influx of money at the start can generate interest most obviously but can also be reinvested in value-generating Jokers. Even just being able to score more per hand in early rounds means using fewer hands each round (and getting money from leftover hands).
If you find a Blueprint in the first shop, it actually costs $15+ in the long run because it'll cut into your ability to earn interest. It's better to find it in round 4, when you already have an excess of money in the bank (and might actually have a Joker worth copying by then). In this way, Jokers (and Consumables) in earlier shops "cost more" compared to Jokers in later shops. Naturally, late game Jokers "cost less," and the same amount of money "can afford more" material.
Also, once you can afford it, you can buy Tarot Cards from the shop and then hold them to use in the next round. Playing more rounds means more opportunities to use Tarot Cards, among other things. When shopping in the late game, it is highly beneficial to hold onto Planet Cards you don't want, to prevent duplicates of those bad cards from showing up in the shop. While blocking duplicates (when you can afford to), each Celestial Pack has a higher chance of giving you what you want and is therefore "worth more."
Anyway, $5, $10, and so on, up to $25 in the last round. Just a thought experiment.
Most skips increase your ability to score rather than giving you an economic boost. Suppose you skip round 1 and receive a random Holographic Joker, but your other Jokers, your Deck, and Cash in the bank (for interest) don't change. In round 2, you're earning the same $5 you would have earned in round 1. $10 in round 3, $15 in round 4, and finally $20 in round 5.
You miss out on the $25 you were previously going to make in round 5. If round 2 would have had a value generator in the shop (Joker or Seal or Devil Tarot), you still get it, you just get it one round later (in round 3, having skipped round 1), and you have one round less of it generating value for you.
All Common Jokers and most Uncommons are "Perishable" in practice, even if they don't literally have the Perishable sticker. Common Jokers get replaced by more powerful Uncommons later. Uncommons giving +Mult or +Chips become obsolete later when you have higher level Poker Hands and more Enhanced Cards in your deck. That Holographic Joker you skip for will almost certainly be replaced by the end.
In contrast, economic bonuses translate into permanent increases to your scoring output. Late game money allows you to pick up higher impact Jokers more easily, xMult Jokers which will never go out of style. Planet Cards from Celestial Packs as well as Enhancements from Arcana and Standard Packs are permanent buffs which don't take up your highly limited Joker slots.
Seeing more shops has value. Having more Jokers to choose from has value, even if you don't buy all, or even many, of them. That's why shop rerolls cost money. Even more important to see more Booster Packs. On one hand, you probably don't buy Boosters in the first two shops anyway. However, if you skip for a Holographic Tag, it doesn't change the amount of money you have and doesn't change the fact that you can't afford Boosters in the next two shops.
In the 5-round example, taking one skip means seeing only 8 Boosters instead of 10 Boosters. Most importantly, those 2 Boosters are subtracted from the end of the run. You miss out on seeing those Boosters when you would actually have the money to buy them.
All this being said, early scoring boosts are incredibly valuable. Having just one +Mult Joker means you have one-shot the first 5 rounds of the game. You can dedicate 100% of your resources to building your bank without any risk of dying. The first +Mult Joker multiplies your scoring output by 5 to 6 times. In contrast, if you don't find any scoring help before round 4 (Ante 2 Small Blind), it has a good chance of being fatal. Therefore, being able to guarantee a +Mult Joker in Ante 1 might be worth as much as $20. Even if it's Perishable.
Separately, the Investment Tag for $25 is balanced around Antes 2 and 3. It was designed to be conditionally "worth it" in those Antes and almost always not worth it by Ante 4. It was not at all balanced around Ante 1. In Ante 1, it's definitely overpowered, always take. Because of Interest, getting $25 at the start of a run hits way different than picking up $25 later on.
Skip Tags in general were designed to have a less than 10% pick rate on average, meaning at most 2 skips per run, with most of those happening in Ante 1 and the rest happening in Ante 2 or 3.
However, the game is easy enough that it's still winnable at a high rate even when not playing optimally. Long streaks of Gold Stake wins are possible even when not playing 100% optimally.
Sometimes a skip is a gamble which doesn't payoff. Even if you end up skipping for literally no payout, the game is still winnable.
Aside from Investment Tag ($25, which wasn't balanced around Ante 1) and to a lesser extent Coupon Tag, skipping is very much not worth it. Regardless, skip if you find skipping fun. You won't necessarily be super punished for it.
2024.05.17 06:17 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 100.000$+ INVENTORY. BFK Lore, Gloves Amphibious, Skeleton Fade, Bowie Emerald, BFK Auto, Gloves MF, Talon Doppler, Gloves POW, Bayo Tiger, Gut Sapphire, Stiletto MF, M9 Ultra, Ursus Doppler, Flip Doppler, M9 Stained, Nomad CW, Paracord CW, AK-47 X-Ray & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77
★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87
★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41
★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39
⎯★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28
★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15
⎯★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93
★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18
★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83
★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41
★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25
★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80
★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96
★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79
⎯★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11
★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78
★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88
★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79
⎯★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05
★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24
★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42
★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37
★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66
★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18
★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13
★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83
★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02
★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44
★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54
★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81
★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81
★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82
★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46
★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08
⎯★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48
★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12
⎯★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26
★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77
★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49
★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51
★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94
★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99
★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92
★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03
★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22
★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40
★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46
⎯★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93
★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43
★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16
★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95
GLOVES
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67
★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33
★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88
★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21
⎯★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00
★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28
⎯★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29
★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73
★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32
⎯★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01
★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55
⎯★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94
★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55
WEAPONS
AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95
AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95
M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43
AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38
StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64
P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03
AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00
M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48
AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97
StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96
StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85
Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42
AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53
Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory
Some items on the list may no longer be available or are still locked, visit My Inventory for more details.
Send a Trade Offer for fastest response. I consider all offers.
Add me for discuss if there is a serious offer that needs to be discussed.
2024.05.17 05:55 BigBoyMaverik Why armor have minus damage protection?
Helo I'm new to the game, I'm currently at floor 12/13 (still farming a little before going higher) and I found some cool blueprints like the "phantom soldier body" and "assault force body". Both of them have equal defense values and equal materials to make a +1 version, but both so have minus lrofectjon against sword icon and hammer icon
What does that mean? Should I not upgrade neither and focus on getting blueprints for better armor? I also got the assault and phantom legs, the only helmet I have is DIY and special forces beret
submitted by BigBoyMaverik to LetItDie [link] [comments]
What does that mean? Should I not upgrade neither and focus on getting blueprints for better armor? I also got the assault and phantom legs, the only helmet I have is DIY and special forces beret
2024.05.17 05:24 FootFinderFungus OG to PC
Way back when, I played Vigor when it originally released. I played it pretty seriously up until about season three, then dropped it due to loss of interest/life simply getting in the way.
With the release of PC, I’m getting back into it, and wondering if I can get back the cosmetics/blueprints of the items. Likely not right now, considering the PC is still in Early Access, but is it possible for the other platforms to cross-platform items at all?
I don’t mind losing the stash, that can be recovered. Though I’d like to have the items I paid fogrinded way back when. I think it would be cool as a PC player to roll up with a doomsday prepper skin!
Edit: Took a look at the seasons. Looks like I fell off about season five! Played a lot more than I remembered.
submitted by FootFinderFungus to vigorgame [link] [comments]
With the release of PC, I’m getting back into it, and wondering if I can get back the cosmetics/blueprints of the items. Likely not right now, considering the PC is still in Early Access, but is it possible for the other platforms to cross-platform items at all?
I don’t mind losing the stash, that can be recovered. Though I’d like to have the items I paid fogrinded way back when. I think it would be cool as a PC player to roll up with a doomsday prepper skin!
Edit: Took a look at the seasons. Looks like I fell off about season five! Played a lot more than I remembered.
2024.05.17 05:00 Wildcat-Caswell My non-spoiler thoughts after seeing the Descendants: Rise of Red leaks
Harley Quinn was for sure the blueprint for Red’s character
Chloe is so badass, Are we sure she’s not a VK?
The choreography may not give the same feeling as the og but it still goes HARD!
Why are these people jumping through the air like they can fly?
Kylie was not joking when she said this Descendants was an action film
Where the ogs movies actually gave fairytale, this one could have its own special place in the DC universe
Wonderland really said “we are not a fantasy land and we don’t wanna be”
They made this a Disney Plus film so it could be extreme
“Fight of Our Lives” is what “Night Falls” tried to be
Chloe and Uliana’s hair is just magic of their own honestly
Red in Wonderland is what the VKs should’ve been on the Isle
Bridget…ADORABLE
That sky just be changing, don’t it?
If there’s one thing Uma and Uliana gonna do, it’s give us a show we didn’t know we needed
“Perfect Revenge” already goes hard and I haven’t even heard the words
Magician in the Kitchen
Slight spoiler, it does seem like majority of the film was shot in a space with a green screen as the sky but I will look past that because of the acting, dancing, and the fact that Descendants has never disappointed me!
submitted by Wildcat-Caswell to Descendants [link] [comments]
Chloe is so badass, Are we sure she’s not a VK?
The choreography may not give the same feeling as the og but it still goes HARD!
Why are these people jumping through the air like they can fly?
Kylie was not joking when she said this Descendants was an action film
Where the ogs movies actually gave fairytale, this one could have its own special place in the DC universe
Wonderland really said “we are not a fantasy land and we don’t wanna be”
They made this a Disney Plus film so it could be extreme
“Fight of Our Lives” is what “Night Falls” tried to be
Chloe and Uliana’s hair is just magic of their own honestly
Red in Wonderland is what the VKs should’ve been on the Isle
Bridget…ADORABLE
That sky just be changing, don’t it?
If there’s one thing Uma and Uliana gonna do, it’s give us a show we didn’t know we needed
“Perfect Revenge” already goes hard and I haven’t even heard the words
Magician in the Kitchen
Slight spoiler, it does seem like majority of the film was shot in a space with a green screen as the sky but I will look past that because of the acting, dancing, and the fact that Descendants has never disappointed me!
2024.05.17 04:23 scdawn Is It OK to Prepare a Week's Worth of Nutty Pudding at Once?
I came across a discussion about making nutty pudding in bulk, and I'm curious if anyone has experience with this. Specifically, I'm looking to prepare a week's worth of nutty pudding using the mix from the blueprint stack.
For those who have tried this, does the pudding still taste good by the end of the week? I'm concerned about both the taste and the health aspects.
submitted by scdawn to blueprint_ [link] [comments]
For those who have tried this, does the pudding still taste good by the end of the week? I'm concerned about both the taste and the health aspects.
2024.05.17 03:30 Far-War-3804 A28 A DELTA FORCE STRIKE TEAM ARRESTED 86-year-old WORLD ECONOMIC FORUM (WEF) founder KLAUS SCHWAB Friday following a DEADLY FIREFIGHT that STARTED at the FORTIFIED GATE at his 7,770-square-foot, SIX-ACRE compound in SWITZERLAND and ENDED in HIS BED-CHAMBER, where THE DEATH-BRINGING GEEZER LAY in B
 | https://preview.redd.it/ol4bajxi3w0d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ef4061a64e4cd5300ef24a83b9c837064909d1ed submitted by Far-War-3804 to CourtofAges [link] [comments] A28 A DELTA FORCE STRIKE TEAM ARRESTED 86-year-old WORLD ECONOMIC FORUM (WEF) founder KLAUS SCHWAB Friday following a DEADLY FIREFIGHT that STARTED at the FORTIFIED GATE at his 7,770-square-foot, SIX-ACRE compound in SWITZERLAND and ENDED in HIS BED-CHAMBER, where THE DEATH-BRINGING GEEZER LAY in BED HOOKED UP TO a SELF-DISPENSING ADRENOCHROME INFUSION MACHINE, a source in General Eric M. Smith’s office said. A Delta Force strike team arrested 86-year-old World Economic Forum (WEF) founder Klaus Schwab Friday following a deadly firefight that started at the fortified gate at his 7,770-square-foot, six-acre compound in Switzerland and ended in his bed-chamber, where the death-bringing geezer lay in bed hooked up to a self-dispensing Adrenochrome infusion machine, a source in General Eric M. Smith’s office told Real Raw News. The overdue arrest came after White Hats formally labeled Schwab an international war criminal based on undisclosed evidence showing that he helped orchestrate the Covid plandemic and the Great Reset—the dismantlement of capitalism, the dissolution of private property rights, and the enslavement or eradication of all resistance, globally. According to our source, White Hats also had a grudge against Schwab. After the WEF spent 32 hours discussing Disease X—a deadly, emerging, manufactured contagion for which COVID-19 was a practice run—at January’s “rebuilding trust” (the irony) conference in Davos, White Hats obtained credible intelligence suggesting that a shipment of a Disease X “component” would arrive at the Port of San Francisco, aboard an Iberian-flagged freighter, on February 6. When the vessel arrived, White Hats were waiting. They raided the ship and found in the hold coolers of a glassy, viscous liquid stored in beakers and flasks. Suspended in the liquid were shimmering silver flecks no larger than a piece of dandruff. The ship’s crew claimed ignorance, saying they were merely transporting “engine lubricant,” per the ship’s manifest. A White Hat Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear (CBRN) team seized the shipment, rushing it to Fort Leonard Wood for chemical analysis. The liquid turned out to be soapy water, and the flecks were micro-fine cosmetic glitter used by women to accentuate their eyes. One cooler held a typewritten note: “Fooled you.” The duping, our source admitted, enraged General Smith, for it consumed time and resources, but was only a tertiary reason for pursuing “one of the most prolific criminals in human history.” “On April 5 the general and his allies at Army Special Operations Command planned Schwab’s capture. Intelligence, and we hoped it was more solid than the boat intel, said Schwab was pretty much bedridden but protected by a massive security force. There was no sneaking in—the general had blueprints to his home-fortress—and a gunfight seemed certain, and reaching Schwab before his people hustled him into his panic room,” our source said. He wouldn’t say how or when Delta arrived in Switzerland or whether Swiss authorities participated in the operation, as fusillades of gunfire would certainly alert local authorities and, perhaps, the federal police. “We knew it would be a run-and-gun op. And the decision was to do it this weekend,” he said. “I’m not going to bullet point our tech, but we can, from a distance, temporarily disable pretty much any alarm system on the planet, and his was no exception.” The operation commenced in the predawn hours, the window of circadian low, defined as the hours of 2 a.m. to 6 a.m., when physiological sleepiness is greatest and performance capabilities—such as reacting to an armed incursion–are lowest. Delta hoped to find some guards asleep or drowsily unvigilant. Delta snipers with suppressor-equipped rifles shot three gate and five perimeter guards in the head. Eight shots, eight confirmed kills. Meanwhile, more Delta scaled the stone wall surrounding Schwab’s fortress and engaged a gaggle of armed goons, killing seven and grievously wounding five more. One Delta was shot in the arm and leg but kept fighting. Another got zipped by a ribbon of submachine gun fire and died. The phalanx of gunfire continued as Delta fought their way to the front door; two soldiers set charges while six others covered them, rippling off lethal controlled bursts that dropped four more approaching guards. The door splintered into countless shards of hardwood and twisted metal—the explosion disemboweled three interior guards who were standing behind it. Delta stepped over their guts and pressed forward, clearing the house room by room and shooting dead all opposition. Four guards came wheeling around a spiral staircase face-first into a Delta barrage of bullets. Delta’s precisely placed shots eviscerated a pair of sentries guarding the master bedroom and perforated two more standing at the foot of Schwab’s bed. Schwab had fear in his watery eyes and an IV line running from his wrist to what looked like a morphine pump. When a soldier tore the line from his wrist, Schwab murmured, “No, I need it. Help me.” “If it were up to me, I’d help put you out of your misery right now,” the Delta operator told him, per a debriefing report. Delta heaved Schwab from his bed and hurriedly ushered him downstairs and outside. As Delta Force was exfiltrating the property, four guards wielding AR-15-style rifles met them at the gate, lowering their weapons at seeing Schwab in Delta’s clutches. “Don’t shoot, we might hit the boss,” one had said. Delta hosed them down. No survivors. “We have four wounded and one KIA. They retrieved their fallen brother’s body. He died a hero. I won’t say where we have Schwab right now, but I will say where he’s going—GITMO. Unfortunately, ending Schwab doesn’t end WEF. We still have a lot of work to do. And we confirmed he was taking Adrenochrome—that’s what was in the machine next to his bed,” our source said. He added that President Trump was informed about the operation and that the hospitalization trope is a Deep State cover story. |
2024.05.17 03:16 ChopperMan28 I am considering re-joining the church. For those of you who have left/lost faith, what evidence made you do that? I feel that the LDS church is right, but I don't want to be lying to myself.
Hey everyone, thanks for reading my post. I am 14 now, my parents left the church when I was 7. I didn't think too deeply about it for the first bit, but for the past year, I have been thinking more about our purpose in life. This had me thinking about religion, and I can't seem to shake the feeling that the LDS church is the truth. My extended family is mostly LDS, except for three other families of 11. Two have ended up being less fulfilled than their LDS relatives, being alcoholic or abusing sexual relationships, and ending up with kids and no husband. If you discount the LDS lifestyle seeming to work out great for all of my family, I still think that the LDS church is good! I feel pretty confident in Christianity being the truth, and with all my family going back to the 1800s believing in the LDS church, it is pretty hard to choose anything else. I also love the LDS lifestyle that is the blueprint for all my successful relatives's families. You guys probably had some pretty darn good reasons to leave, what are those reasons? Any people with positive testaments for the church would also help me decide whether or not to come back. Thanks!
submitted by ChopperMan28 to mormon [link] [comments]
2024.05.17 02:11 MirkWorks Excerpts from Adventures in the Orgasmatron: How the Sexual Revolution Came to America by Christopher Turner (Beats & Gestalt therapy)
Seven
...
In 1945, Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac were students at Columbia University and were lodging in Joan Vollmer’s apartment on West 115th Street. Kerouac, a Catholic who had gotten in on a football scholarship described Ginsberg as “this spindly Jewish kid with horn-rimmed glasses and tremendous ears sticking out…burning black eyes”; the two men had a brief, awkward affair. Their friend William Burroughs was living nearby, on Riverside Drive, and after Kerouac and Ginsberg set him up with their landlady, he moved in, too. The gaunt and lanky Burroughs was more than a decade older than Ginsberg and Kerouac, and already seemed, Ginsberg recalled, to have the “ashen gray of an old-age cheek.” The younger pair admired him, Ginsberg wrote, like “ambassadors to a Chinese emperor.” Kerouac hailed him as “the last of the Faustian men.” Burroughs returned the compliment by introducing the other members of the “libertine circle,” as they dubbed themselves, to drugs, sailors, porn, bathhouses, and Wilhelm Reich.
After leaving Harvard in 1936, Burroughs had enrolled at the University of Vienna’s medical schools, Reich’s alma mater, with vague plans of becoming a psychoanalyst, but his stay was dominated by the administration of arsenic shots for the syphilis he had contracted in America, which left him feeling nauseated and depressed. He left after a semester. Back in New York, Burroughs was analyzed by Paul Federn, who had been Reich’s first therapist but whom Reich came to consider his nemesis. Burroughs was institutionalized in 1940 after he chopped off the tip of his finger in a Van Gogh - like gesture of unrequited love (Bellevue psychiatrists diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic). Burroughs’s parents gave him an allowance of two hundred dollars a month on the condition that he seek further help, and in 1946 Burroughs was undergoing narco-analysis with Dr. Lewis Wolberg, who used nitrous oxide and hypnosis to stimulated the unconscious.
Burroughs would return from his sessions with Wolberg to practice “wild analysis” on his friends, interpreting their dreams from the comfort of a wing chair. He also played a game that parodied the Reichian character analysis that he’d become interested in. The group would play an adaption of charades to facilitate the exploration of the onion layers of their personality armor. Burroughs referred to these exercises in amateur dramatics as “routines.” For example, underneath Burroughs’s public persona as the distinguished heir of an important St. Louis family lurked a prissy, lesbian English governess (“My dear, you’re just in time for tea. Don’t say those dirty words in front of everybody!”). Scratch the governess surface and you reached Old Luke, a gun-toting, tobacco-chewing sharecropper from the Deep South (“Ever gut a catfish?”). The last stratum, at his very core, held a silent Chinaman, a contemplative, impassive character who sat meditating on the banks of the Yangtse. Ginsberg’s hidden self was “the well-groomed Hungarian,” and Kerouac liked to play the naïve American lost in the sophistications of Paris.
Alfred Kinsey met Burroughs, Ginsberg, and Kerouac on one of their nocturnal trips to Time Square through their friend Herbert Huncke, the male prostitute who coined the term “beat” and introduced Burroughs to recreational drugs. Kinsey paid Huncke
Taking advantage of the proximity of Cott’s office to his father’s home, and still buzzing in the mouth, Ginsberg chose to come out during a posttherapeutic visit. “You mean you like to take men’s penises in your mouth?” his father said unsympathetically. But Cott thought homosexuality a perversion, as Reich did, and was working toward establishing heterosexual primacy rather than trying to persuade Ginsberg to come to terms with his queerness. “Frankly I won’t trust that kind of straight genital Reichian,” Burroughs wrote in disgust at this dogmatism. “Feller say, when a man gets too straight he’s just a god damned prick.”
Cott terminated Ginsberg’s therapy after three months because he continued to smoke pot against the doctor’s advice. Ginsberg though cannabis an integral part of his aesthetic education; Cott feared that it would lead to a psychotic episode. The summer he quit therapy, Ginsberg began experiencing auditory hallucinations. “It was like God had a human voice,” Ginsberg wrote of his transcendental experience, in which he discovered his calling as a poet, “with all the infinite tenderness and mortal gravity of a living Creator speaking to his son.” Consumed by a desire to share his amazing experience, Ginsberg crawled out onto his fire escape and tapped on the next-door neighbor’s windows, declaring to the two frightened girls inside, “I’ve seen God!”
His father, still reeling from the discovery of his son’s sexuality, feared that he was suffering from the paranoid schizophrenia that had caused his mother to be institutionalized in Pilgrim State, a mental hospital on Long Island. She also heard voices, feared her husband was trying to poison her, hallucinated Hitler’s mustache in the sink, and thought spies were following her. When Ginsberg entered Reichian analysis, she was reportedly banging her head against the wall so ferociously that the doctors recommended a lobotomy.
Ginsberg phoned up Dr. Cott, his former therapist, and told him, “It happened, I had some kind of breakthrough or psychotic experience.” Cott, who followed Reich in rejecting the talking cure, and who was obviously still angry at Ginsberg for choosing pot over therapy, said, “I’m afraid any discussion would have no value” and hung up on him. Soon afterward, when Ginsberg was involved in a car chase in a stolen vehicle that ended in a dramatic crash, he was encouraged by a law professor at Columbia, where he was still a student, to plead insanity. Dr. Cott appeared in court to testify to his mental instability, and two months later Ginsberg was admitted to the Columbia Presbyterian Psychiatric institute, where he stayed for eight months.
During Ginsberg’s hospitalization, Burroughs wrote to Jack Kerouac to ask him to find out from Ginsberg what the “gadget made by Reichians” looked like. “I want especially to know its shape and if there is a window, and how one gets into it.” Kerouac doesn’t seem to have been much help in providing a blueprint. Burroughs built his first accumulator in the spring of 1949 when he was living on a rented farm in Pharr, Texas, with Kells Elvins, a friend from his Harvard days. They were both enthusiastically reading Reich’s The Cancer Biopathy and decided to build an accumulator in the orange grove Kells owned in the Rio Grande Valley. Built without recourse to any plans, the resulting device included some curious innovations. “Inside was an old icebox,” Burroughs explained, “which you could get inside and pull on a contrivance so that another box of sheet steel descended over you, so that the effect was presumably heightened.” It took them a few days to construct the box. The result was eight feet high, much taller than the ones Reich manufactured: “It was a regular townhouse,” Burroughs recalled.
The pair took turns sitting in the accumulator and obtained, Burroughs wrote, “unmistakable results.” Burroughs wondered what the Mexican farm laborers thought of this strange box that they entered “wrapped in old towels,” and came out of feeling “much sexier and healthier,” “with hard-ons.” Burroughs and Kells also made one of Reich’s smaller shooter boxes, with a funnel, which they used as a supplement to the big box. Their DIY was, Burroughs admitted, “a very sloppy job,” but it still have a powerful “sexual kick.”
"I have just been reading Wilhelm Reich’s latest book The Cancer Biopathy,” Burroughs wrote excitedly to Kerouac. “I tell you Jack, he is the only man in the analysis line who is on that beam. After reading the book I built an orgone accumulator and the gimmick really works. The man is not crazy, he’s a fucking genius.” Kerouac described Burroughs enthusiastically promoting the box in On the Road (1955). According to Kerouac, Burroughs said, “Say, why don’t you fellows try my orgone accumulator? Put some juice in your bones. I always rush up and take off ninety miles an hour for the nearest whorehouse, hor-hor-hor!”
Burroughs used an orgone box on and off for the rest of his life. (There is a picture of the rock star Kurt Cobain waving through the port-hole of Burrough’s last box, a scruffy, patched-up shed that he kept in the garden behind his house in Lawrence, Kansas.) In the 1970s he wrote an article for Oui magazine entitled “All the accumulators I have owned” in which he boasted, “Your intrepid reporter, at age thirty-seven, achieved spontaneous orgasm, no hands, in an orgone accumulator built in an orange grove in Pharr, Texas. It was the small, direct-application accumulator that did the trick.”
….
Perls concluded that any positive claims for the orgone box were attributable to the placebo effect. “I invariably found a fallacy,” he said of the orgone box users he met, “a suggestibility that could be directed in any way that I wanted.” Reich, Perls thought, had made a major contribution in giving Freud’s notion of resistance a body, but he erred in trying to make a verifiable reality out of the libido. “Now resistances do exist, there is no doubt about it,” Perls explained, “but libido was and is a hypothesized energy, invented by Freud himself to explain his model of man.” He thought Reich had hypnotized himself and his patients into the belief of the existence of the orgone as the physical and visible equivalent of libido.
Perls found that users of orgone boxes usually exhibited some paranoid symptoms. “Then I had another look at the armor theory,” Perls went on, “and I realized that the idea of the armor itself was a paranoid form. It supposes an attack from, and defense against, the environment.” Perls criticized vegetotherapy for encouraging the formation of paranoid features by encouraging the patient to “externalize, disown, and project material that could be assimilated and become part of the self.” Orgone energy, Perls concluded from his investigations into the orgone box, was “an invention of Reich’s fantasy which by then had gone astray.” The realization that the Reich he had met in New York was different from the one he had known in Europe, and that orgone mysticism was at the crackpot end of science, was tinged with melancholy. “The enfant terrible of the Vienna Institute turned out to be a genius,” Perls wrote in his autobiography, “only to eclipse himself as a ‘mad scientist.’”
In his own elaboration of character analysis, which he called Gestalt therapy, Perls turned the idea of armor around: where Reich had come to see character armor as a defense against a hostile external world, Perls saw that same layer of self as a shield for one’s own true drives - a straitjacket designed to safeguard against explosions of excitement from within. Thus, it wasn’t a shell to be crushed but something integral, to be owned. (Laura Perls said they tried to convince Rosenfeld to give up his box, that he could increase his physical vitality and mental agility “entirely on his own, without external devices.”) He wanted his patients to be aware of their bodies, to feel the present vividly in the “here and now,” to be “authentic,” to act on their desires.
Perls got his patients to act out their feelings so that they could assimilate and take responsibility for them. He had originally wanted to be a theater director - he’d been a student of Max Reinhardt’s when he was growing up in Berlin, and he’d become closely associated with the avant-garde Living Theatre troupe in New York. Julian Beck, a founder of the Living Theatre, explained to Perls’s biographer, Martin Shepard, of Gestalt therapy, “[Perls] had something in mind that was halfway between the kind of performance we were doing [direct spectacle, aimed at challenging the moral complacency of the audience] and therapeutic sessions.”
“You are my client,” Perls told one female patient. “I care for you like an artist, I bring something out that is hidden in you.” He described therapy as if it were a magic trick; the rabbit he claimed to pull out of the hat was a person shorn of the “neurosis of normalcy” and all the bourgeois niceties associated with it. This person, he hypothesized, was confident enough to be selfish, to act on rather than repress all her desires, whatever the social consequences. All the energy that others wasted on repression and concealment, Perls thought, should be available for creative self-expression. Another of Perls’s patients recalled, “Fritz loved some types - open bastard-bitch - open defenses, that type. He didn’t like anyone who would placate him or be too good to him or used good-girl or good-boy defenses - that drove him up the wall.”
Perls’s views ,and some of his methods, were much indebted to those pioneered by Reich in the thirties: Perls would habitually accuse his patients of being “phony” and was deliberately aggressive, much as Reich had been with him. Yet, his observations about the paranoid deviations in Reich’s terminology and thinking were painfully perceptive, precisely because he had built on those very ideas.
In 1951, Perls, Paul Goodman, and a Columbia professor of psychology named Ralph Hefferline published Gestalt Therapy: Excitement and Growth in the Human Personality. Rewritten by Goodman, and bearing all the hallmarks of Goodman’s exasperating style, the book blends Reich’s ideas about energy blocks and flows with Sartre’s cafe philosophy to create an American brand of existentialism turned therapy. The authors intended their self-help book to provide the reader with the tools for revolution: “In recommending [these experiments] to you,” they warned of their mass-market therapy, “we commit an aggressive act aimed at your present status quo and whatever complacency it affords.” They promised immediate liberation, without the hard grind of political struggle; all you had to do was unleash your “authentic” self.
The “excitement” to which the subtitle of the book refers is a generalized libido, an elan vital that is seeking various outlets, not all of them sexual. Life, for Perls, was a series of “unfinished” or “undigested” situation, frustrations that were all waiting their turn for satisfactory closure. “After the available excitement has been fully transformed and experienced, then we have good closure, satisfaction, temporary peace and nirvana,” Perls summarized his position. “A [mere] discharge will barely bring about the feeling of exhaustion and being spent.”
It sounded very like the Reichian orgasm. But for Perls, excitement was no longer exclusively genital, as it was for Reich, and this shift only served to open up numerous other slipways to pleasure. In Reich’s view, the libido theory was an inviolable article of faith. In broadening its range to celebrate oral and anal pleasures, Perls heralded a polymorphously perverse and heretical vision - one that, ironically, would prove particularly amenable to exploitation under capitalism.
In 1952, Perls, his wife, Goodman, Isidore From, Elliott Shapiro, and two others founded the New York Institute for Gestalt Therapy, headquartered in the Perleses’ apartment and with treatment rooms at 315 Central Park West. The seven founding members met on a weekly basis for group therapy. There was no bureaucratic hierarchy and everyone, including Perls, was subject to the honest criticism that was seen as the key to self-discovery. It was a very public form of character analysis: members of the group would draw one another’s attention to every repression or hang-up, none of which was to be tolerated.
Elliot Shapiro, an ex-boxer and the head of a psychiatric school attached to Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn, brought a friend to one session; Shapiro’s friend said he “had never witnessed the aggressive and profound battling that went on in those groups. Nobody, virtually nobody, was safe at any time.” Shapiro recalled, “We hammered at each other, and hammered, and hammered - every week. And it was the most vigorous hammering you can image….If you could live through these groups and take the corrections, the insults, the remarks…” Not all the participants had sufficiently thick skins to take such brutal candor. The psychotherapist Jim Simkin left the group because he felt that everyone was “loading elephant shit on him,” as did Ralph Hefferline, a coauthor of Gestalt Therapy.
To promote this new school, Perls traveled from city to city, introducing an audience of psychiatrists, social workers, and other interested parties to his “here and now” philosophy. He taught groups in Cleveland, Detroit, Toronto, and Miami how to be sensitive to their bodily needs and to follow their impulses, to be honest and unalienated. He’d be sharp and confrontational as he pushed his awareness techniques on the participants: What are you doing now? What are you experiencing? What are you feeling? Isadore From, who was part of the original New York group, remembers that these occasions were often very dramatic, with “a lot of shaking, trembling, anxiety” - effects that he thought were the result of the audiences’ hyperventilating under the strain of Perls’s relentless goading and questioning.
The New York Institute of Gestalt Therapy also ran public seminars, including one by Goodman, “The Psychology of Sex” (“What you can’t do, teach,” he said with a laugh). Following Reich, it was thought that neurosis could be treated by exposure to sexual pleasure. Goodman made this his area of expertise and people with sexual problems were often referred to him. One was a man who was worried about the quality of his orgasms after prostate surgery. Another thought he might be homosexual; the bisexual Goodman got his penis out and demanded that the patient touch it to help him make a diagnosis. In so doing he was no doubt influenced by Hitschmann, the Viennese analyst who once asked Perls, then tormented by sexual inadequacy, to show him his penis.
In one of Goodman’s group sessions, when someone complained of the lack of sexual companionship, Goodman went around the circle and set up a week’s worth of dates. “See, that wasn’t so difficult,” he reassured her. He was not beyond offering his own neurosis-busting services to patients of either sex, and once agreed to accompany a patient who invited him on an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe. He joked about setting up a College of Sex so as to put his vast experience to educational use. “I’m a sociopath,” he wanted a potential client. In a diary entry written in 1957, Goodman looked back on the previous decade and concluded that he’s made a “false cultus-religion (an obsession)” of sex: “The sexual act itself had just about the meaning of a ritual communion sacrifice.”
submitted by MirkWorks to u/MirkWorks [link] [comments]
...
In 1945, Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac were students at Columbia University and were lodging in Joan Vollmer’s apartment on West 115th Street. Kerouac, a Catholic who had gotten in on a football scholarship described Ginsberg as “this spindly Jewish kid with horn-rimmed glasses and tremendous ears sticking out…burning black eyes”; the two men had a brief, awkward affair. Their friend William Burroughs was living nearby, on Riverside Drive, and after Kerouac and Ginsberg set him up with their landlady, he moved in, too. The gaunt and lanky Burroughs was more than a decade older than Ginsberg and Kerouac, and already seemed, Ginsberg recalled, to have the “ashen gray of an old-age cheek.” The younger pair admired him, Ginsberg wrote, like “ambassadors to a Chinese emperor.” Kerouac hailed him as “the last of the Faustian men.” Burroughs returned the compliment by introducing the other members of the “libertine circle,” as they dubbed themselves, to drugs, sailors, porn, bathhouses, and Wilhelm Reich.
After leaving Harvard in 1936, Burroughs had enrolled at the University of Vienna’s medical schools, Reich’s alma mater, with vague plans of becoming a psychoanalyst, but his stay was dominated by the administration of arsenic shots for the syphilis he had contracted in America, which left him feeling nauseated and depressed. He left after a semester. Back in New York, Burroughs was analyzed by Paul Federn, who had been Reich’s first therapist but whom Reich came to consider his nemesis. Burroughs was institutionalized in 1940 after he chopped off the tip of his finger in a Van Gogh - like gesture of unrequited love (Bellevue psychiatrists diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic). Burroughs’s parents gave him an allowance of two hundred dollars a month on the condition that he seek further help, and in 1946 Burroughs was undergoing narco-analysis with Dr. Lewis Wolberg, who used nitrous oxide and hypnosis to stimulated the unconscious.
Burroughs would return from his sessions with Wolberg to practice “wild analysis” on his friends, interpreting their dreams from the comfort of a wing chair. He also played a game that parodied the Reichian character analysis that he’d become interested in. The group would play an adaption of charades to facilitate the exploration of the onion layers of their personality armor. Burroughs referred to these exercises in amateur dramatics as “routines.” For example, underneath Burroughs’s public persona as the distinguished heir of an important St. Louis family lurked a prissy, lesbian English governess (“My dear, you’re just in time for tea. Don’t say those dirty words in front of everybody!”). Scratch the governess surface and you reached Old Luke, a gun-toting, tobacco-chewing sharecropper from the Deep South (“Ever gut a catfish?”). The last stratum, at his very core, held a silent Chinaman, a contemplative, impassive character who sat meditating on the banks of the Yangtse. Ginsberg’s hidden self was “the well-groomed Hungarian,” and Kerouac liked to play the naïve American lost in the sophistications of Paris.
Alfred Kinsey met Burroughs, Ginsberg, and Kerouac on one of their nocturnal trips to Time Square through their friend Herbert Huncke, the male prostitute who coined the term “beat” and introduced Burroughs to recreational drugs. Kinsey paid Huncke
Taking advantage of the proximity of Cott’s office to his father’s home, and still buzzing in the mouth, Ginsberg chose to come out during a posttherapeutic visit. “You mean you like to take men’s penises in your mouth?” his father said unsympathetically. But Cott thought homosexuality a perversion, as Reich did, and was working toward establishing heterosexual primacy rather than trying to persuade Ginsberg to come to terms with his queerness. “Frankly I won’t trust that kind of straight genital Reichian,” Burroughs wrote in disgust at this dogmatism. “Feller say, when a man gets too straight he’s just a god damned prick.”
Cott terminated Ginsberg’s therapy after three months because he continued to smoke pot against the doctor’s advice. Ginsberg though cannabis an integral part of his aesthetic education; Cott feared that it would lead to a psychotic episode. The summer he quit therapy, Ginsberg began experiencing auditory hallucinations. “It was like God had a human voice,” Ginsberg wrote of his transcendental experience, in which he discovered his calling as a poet, “with all the infinite tenderness and mortal gravity of a living Creator speaking to his son.” Consumed by a desire to share his amazing experience, Ginsberg crawled out onto his fire escape and tapped on the next-door neighbor’s windows, declaring to the two frightened girls inside, “I’ve seen God!”
His father, still reeling from the discovery of his son’s sexuality, feared that he was suffering from the paranoid schizophrenia that had caused his mother to be institutionalized in Pilgrim State, a mental hospital on Long Island. She also heard voices, feared her husband was trying to poison her, hallucinated Hitler’s mustache in the sink, and thought spies were following her. When Ginsberg entered Reichian analysis, she was reportedly banging her head against the wall so ferociously that the doctors recommended a lobotomy.
Ginsberg phoned up Dr. Cott, his former therapist, and told him, “It happened, I had some kind of breakthrough or psychotic experience.” Cott, who followed Reich in rejecting the talking cure, and who was obviously still angry at Ginsberg for choosing pot over therapy, said, “I’m afraid any discussion would have no value” and hung up on him. Soon afterward, when Ginsberg was involved in a car chase in a stolen vehicle that ended in a dramatic crash, he was encouraged by a law professor at Columbia, where he was still a student, to plead insanity. Dr. Cott appeared in court to testify to his mental instability, and two months later Ginsberg was admitted to the Columbia Presbyterian Psychiatric institute, where he stayed for eight months.
During Ginsberg’s hospitalization, Burroughs wrote to Jack Kerouac to ask him to find out from Ginsberg what the “gadget made by Reichians” looked like. “I want especially to know its shape and if there is a window, and how one gets into it.” Kerouac doesn’t seem to have been much help in providing a blueprint. Burroughs built his first accumulator in the spring of 1949 when he was living on a rented farm in Pharr, Texas, with Kells Elvins, a friend from his Harvard days. They were both enthusiastically reading Reich’s The Cancer Biopathy and decided to build an accumulator in the orange grove Kells owned in the Rio Grande Valley. Built without recourse to any plans, the resulting device included some curious innovations. “Inside was an old icebox,” Burroughs explained, “which you could get inside and pull on a contrivance so that another box of sheet steel descended over you, so that the effect was presumably heightened.” It took them a few days to construct the box. The result was eight feet high, much taller than the ones Reich manufactured: “It was a regular townhouse,” Burroughs recalled.
The pair took turns sitting in the accumulator and obtained, Burroughs wrote, “unmistakable results.” Burroughs wondered what the Mexican farm laborers thought of this strange box that they entered “wrapped in old towels,” and came out of feeling “much sexier and healthier,” “with hard-ons.” Burroughs and Kells also made one of Reich’s smaller shooter boxes, with a funnel, which they used as a supplement to the big box. Their DIY was, Burroughs admitted, “a very sloppy job,” but it still have a powerful “sexual kick.”
"I have just been reading Wilhelm Reich’s latest book The Cancer Biopathy,” Burroughs wrote excitedly to Kerouac. “I tell you Jack, he is the only man in the analysis line who is on that beam. After reading the book I built an orgone accumulator and the gimmick really works. The man is not crazy, he’s a fucking genius.” Kerouac described Burroughs enthusiastically promoting the box in On the Road (1955). According to Kerouac, Burroughs said, “Say, why don’t you fellows try my orgone accumulator? Put some juice in your bones. I always rush up and take off ninety miles an hour for the nearest whorehouse, hor-hor-hor!”
Burroughs used an orgone box on and off for the rest of his life. (There is a picture of the rock star Kurt Cobain waving through the port-hole of Burrough’s last box, a scruffy, patched-up shed that he kept in the garden behind his house in Lawrence, Kansas.) In the 1970s he wrote an article for Oui magazine entitled “All the accumulators I have owned” in which he boasted, “Your intrepid reporter, at age thirty-seven, achieved spontaneous orgasm, no hands, in an orgone accumulator built in an orange grove in Pharr, Texas. It was the small, direct-application accumulator that did the trick.”
….
Perls concluded that any positive claims for the orgone box were attributable to the placebo effect. “I invariably found a fallacy,” he said of the orgone box users he met, “a suggestibility that could be directed in any way that I wanted.” Reich, Perls thought, had made a major contribution in giving Freud’s notion of resistance a body, but he erred in trying to make a verifiable reality out of the libido. “Now resistances do exist, there is no doubt about it,” Perls explained, “but libido was and is a hypothesized energy, invented by Freud himself to explain his model of man.” He thought Reich had hypnotized himself and his patients into the belief of the existence of the orgone as the physical and visible equivalent of libido.
Perls found that users of orgone boxes usually exhibited some paranoid symptoms. “Then I had another look at the armor theory,” Perls went on, “and I realized that the idea of the armor itself was a paranoid form. It supposes an attack from, and defense against, the environment.” Perls criticized vegetotherapy for encouraging the formation of paranoid features by encouraging the patient to “externalize, disown, and project material that could be assimilated and become part of the self.” Orgone energy, Perls concluded from his investigations into the orgone box, was “an invention of Reich’s fantasy which by then had gone astray.” The realization that the Reich he had met in New York was different from the one he had known in Europe, and that orgone mysticism was at the crackpot end of science, was tinged with melancholy. “The enfant terrible of the Vienna Institute turned out to be a genius,” Perls wrote in his autobiography, “only to eclipse himself as a ‘mad scientist.’”
In his own elaboration of character analysis, which he called Gestalt therapy, Perls turned the idea of armor around: where Reich had come to see character armor as a defense against a hostile external world, Perls saw that same layer of self as a shield for one’s own true drives - a straitjacket designed to safeguard against explosions of excitement from within. Thus, it wasn’t a shell to be crushed but something integral, to be owned. (Laura Perls said they tried to convince Rosenfeld to give up his box, that he could increase his physical vitality and mental agility “entirely on his own, without external devices.”) He wanted his patients to be aware of their bodies, to feel the present vividly in the “here and now,” to be “authentic,” to act on their desires.
Perls got his patients to act out their feelings so that they could assimilate and take responsibility for them. He had originally wanted to be a theater director - he’d been a student of Max Reinhardt’s when he was growing up in Berlin, and he’d become closely associated with the avant-garde Living Theatre troupe in New York. Julian Beck, a founder of the Living Theatre, explained to Perls’s biographer, Martin Shepard, of Gestalt therapy, “[Perls] had something in mind that was halfway between the kind of performance we were doing [direct spectacle, aimed at challenging the moral complacency of the audience] and therapeutic sessions.”
“You are my client,” Perls told one female patient. “I care for you like an artist, I bring something out that is hidden in you.” He described therapy as if it were a magic trick; the rabbit he claimed to pull out of the hat was a person shorn of the “neurosis of normalcy” and all the bourgeois niceties associated with it. This person, he hypothesized, was confident enough to be selfish, to act on rather than repress all her desires, whatever the social consequences. All the energy that others wasted on repression and concealment, Perls thought, should be available for creative self-expression. Another of Perls’s patients recalled, “Fritz loved some types - open bastard-bitch - open defenses, that type. He didn’t like anyone who would placate him or be too good to him or used good-girl or good-boy defenses - that drove him up the wall.”
Perls’s views ,and some of his methods, were much indebted to those pioneered by Reich in the thirties: Perls would habitually accuse his patients of being “phony” and was deliberately aggressive, much as Reich had been with him. Yet, his observations about the paranoid deviations in Reich’s terminology and thinking were painfully perceptive, precisely because he had built on those very ideas.
In 1951, Perls, Paul Goodman, and a Columbia professor of psychology named Ralph Hefferline published Gestalt Therapy: Excitement and Growth in the Human Personality. Rewritten by Goodman, and bearing all the hallmarks of Goodman’s exasperating style, the book blends Reich’s ideas about energy blocks and flows with Sartre’s cafe philosophy to create an American brand of existentialism turned therapy. The authors intended their self-help book to provide the reader with the tools for revolution: “In recommending [these experiments] to you,” they warned of their mass-market therapy, “we commit an aggressive act aimed at your present status quo and whatever complacency it affords.” They promised immediate liberation, without the hard grind of political struggle; all you had to do was unleash your “authentic” self.
The “excitement” to which the subtitle of the book refers is a generalized libido, an elan vital that is seeking various outlets, not all of them sexual. Life, for Perls, was a series of “unfinished” or “undigested” situation, frustrations that were all waiting their turn for satisfactory closure. “After the available excitement has been fully transformed and experienced, then we have good closure, satisfaction, temporary peace and nirvana,” Perls summarized his position. “A [mere] discharge will barely bring about the feeling of exhaustion and being spent.”
It sounded very like the Reichian orgasm. But for Perls, excitement was no longer exclusively genital, as it was for Reich, and this shift only served to open up numerous other slipways to pleasure. In Reich’s view, the libido theory was an inviolable article of faith. In broadening its range to celebrate oral and anal pleasures, Perls heralded a polymorphously perverse and heretical vision - one that, ironically, would prove particularly amenable to exploitation under capitalism.
In 1952, Perls, his wife, Goodman, Isidore From, Elliott Shapiro, and two others founded the New York Institute for Gestalt Therapy, headquartered in the Perleses’ apartment and with treatment rooms at 315 Central Park West. The seven founding members met on a weekly basis for group therapy. There was no bureaucratic hierarchy and everyone, including Perls, was subject to the honest criticism that was seen as the key to self-discovery. It was a very public form of character analysis: members of the group would draw one another’s attention to every repression or hang-up, none of which was to be tolerated.
Elliot Shapiro, an ex-boxer and the head of a psychiatric school attached to Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn, brought a friend to one session; Shapiro’s friend said he “had never witnessed the aggressive and profound battling that went on in those groups. Nobody, virtually nobody, was safe at any time.” Shapiro recalled, “We hammered at each other, and hammered, and hammered - every week. And it was the most vigorous hammering you can image….If you could live through these groups and take the corrections, the insults, the remarks…” Not all the participants had sufficiently thick skins to take such brutal candor. The psychotherapist Jim Simkin left the group because he felt that everyone was “loading elephant shit on him,” as did Ralph Hefferline, a coauthor of Gestalt Therapy.
To promote this new school, Perls traveled from city to city, introducing an audience of psychiatrists, social workers, and other interested parties to his “here and now” philosophy. He taught groups in Cleveland, Detroit, Toronto, and Miami how to be sensitive to their bodily needs and to follow their impulses, to be honest and unalienated. He’d be sharp and confrontational as he pushed his awareness techniques on the participants: What are you doing now? What are you experiencing? What are you feeling? Isadore From, who was part of the original New York group, remembers that these occasions were often very dramatic, with “a lot of shaking, trembling, anxiety” - effects that he thought were the result of the audiences’ hyperventilating under the strain of Perls’s relentless goading and questioning.
The New York Institute of Gestalt Therapy also ran public seminars, including one by Goodman, “The Psychology of Sex” (“What you can’t do, teach,” he said with a laugh). Following Reich, it was thought that neurosis could be treated by exposure to sexual pleasure. Goodman made this his area of expertise and people with sexual problems were often referred to him. One was a man who was worried about the quality of his orgasms after prostate surgery. Another thought he might be homosexual; the bisexual Goodman got his penis out and demanded that the patient touch it to help him make a diagnosis. In so doing he was no doubt influenced by Hitschmann, the Viennese analyst who once asked Perls, then tormented by sexual inadequacy, to show him his penis
In one of Goodman’s group sessions, when someone complained of the lack of sexual companionship, Goodman went around the circle and set up a week’s worth of dates. “See, that wasn’t so difficult,” he reassured her. He was not beyond offering his own neurosis-busting services to patients of either sex, and once agreed to accompany a patient who invited him on an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe. He joked about setting up a College of Sex so as to put his vast experience to educational use. “I’m a sociopath,” he wanted a potential client. In a diary entry written in 1957, Goodman looked back on the previous decade and concluded that he’s made a “false cultus-religion (an obsession)” of sex: “The sexual act itself had just about the meaning of a ritual communion sacrifice.”
2024.05.17 02:04 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 100.000$+ INVENTORY. BFK Lore, Gloves Amphibious, Skeleton Fade, Bowie Emerald, BFK Auto, Gloves MF, Talon Doppler, Gloves POW, Bayo Tiger, Gut Sapphire, Stiletto MF, M9 Ultra, Ursus Doppler, Flip Doppler, M9 Stained, Nomad CW, Paracord CW, AK-47 X-Ray & A Lot More
Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory
Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.
All Buyouts are listed in cash value.
KNIVES
★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77
★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74
⎯★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87
★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41
★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39
⎯★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27
★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28
★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15
⎯★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93
★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69
★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18
★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83
★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64
⎯★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04
★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41
★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39
★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25
★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80
★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96
★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79
⎯★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11
★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78
★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88
★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79
⎯★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05
★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24
★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28
★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53
⎯★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12
★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42
★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37
★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66
★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18
★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13
★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26
⎯★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83
★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50
★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11
⎯★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02
★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44
★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51
★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54
★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81
★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81
★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82
★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46
★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08
⎯★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48
★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12
⎯★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26
★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03
⎯★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79
★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17
★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55
★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77
★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49
★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22
★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51
★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94
★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99
★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80
★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96
⎯★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92
★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03
★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22
★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40
★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42
★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20
★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46
⎯★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99
★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93
★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43
★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06
★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16
★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95
★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01
★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95
GLOVES
★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67
★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33
★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88
★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66
⎯★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07
★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14
★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57
★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21
⎯★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31
★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00
★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28
⎯★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29
★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73
★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32
⎯★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01
★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66
⎯★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88
★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55
⎯★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94
★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55
WEAPONS
AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95
AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95
M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51
StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43
AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38
StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64
P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03
AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33
Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00
M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70
StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48
AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97
StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96
StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85
Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42
AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53
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2024.05.17 01:27 Bo2021 Thoughts from my second game (just unlocked Aluminum)
I want to start clean, now that I've learned a lot of lessons from my second game. And I still have questions that I need to figure out before starting the next one.
I have resisted reading too many wiki, tutorials or youtube. I'm sure many of these are already covered by others, but here are my notes.
Logistics:
submitted by Bo2021 to SatisfactoryGame [link] [comments]
I have resisted reading too many wiki, tutorials or youtube. I'm sure many of these are already covered by others, but here are my notes.
Logistics:
- Belts: intra factory, between machines
- Skip mk2 since it's too expensive
- Trucks: nearby short haul of ingots (smelt ore on-site if possible)
- Separate truck stations and truck routes, by walls if necessary
- One station, one truck, one product
- Trains: Long distance inter factory for high density products (I haven't played with trains too much yet)
- It would be hard to make every single product in a central mega factory
- Build factory for a dedicated product, then put them in loading train stations to allow other factories to fetch what is needed there
- Boosted hypertube: personal transport between factories/outposts
- Multi-floor vertical layout (non-refinery)
- 12m high for constructoassembler floor
- 16m high for manufacture floor
- Raise the foundation so that it's clear of boulders, hills, creatures, etc.
- External input:
- Stackable main bus along one wall with open ceiling to allow splitter + lift to access all floors
- You can place splitter directly on stacked up belt, but it does not snap to your desired location easily. Instead, place stacked up splitters to your desired height, then connect splitter to stacked belts
- High density products only on main bus. Make low density products on-site, such as screws
- Stackable main bus along one wall with open ceiling to allow splitter + lift to access all floors
- Intermediate product:
- One intermediate product per floor
- Belt against main bus direction (tail to head) to a storage container buffer at floor head
- Align buffer container so it's easily accessible manually
- Use sign on container wall to label content and throughput
- Lift product from buffer to the floor where it's needed
- Use smart splitter before container to send overflow from all floors to sink at first floor
- Final product:
- Belt to truck or train station
- Use billboard to label content and throughput
- Machine input/output
- Input: use balanced belt for 1 to 2X or 3X inputs. Use manifold for odd numbers (e.g. 5 or 11)
- Output: use manifold
- Route all belts on one side of the machine to allow expansion on the other side
- Tier 1 - 4: a main multi-floor factory near hub (not near space elevator)
- Focus is to build a mall with various buffer containers to sustain expansion and unlocking milestones
- Project parts, like versatile framework, do not need to be fully automated, and should only be made on demand, with few fully boosted machines, on a temp floor
- Coal power plant
- Tier 5 - 6: Expand to a second oil factory
- Setup train to transport oil based products (plastic, rubber, circuit board, computer) back to main
- Fuel power plant
- Build a space elevator factory (same multi-floor factory layout) near space elevator, with inputs from main and oil factory
- Tier 7 - 8: I don't know. I bet it's time for more factories and train network
- Factorio style main bus:
- It's difficult to place splitter directly on stacked up belt at the exact location
- It's difficult to do multiple "lanes" and branch off them like a priority lane
- It's difficult to plan for the future throughput requirement
- Belt space elevator parts directly to it
- It's not worth it for tier 1-4
- Space elevator parts deserve their own factory building, instead of incorporate them into main hub factory
- Train rails on raw ground. This may be controversial...
- There are too many stones, hills, ridges, valleys etc. that interfere with rail placement. Raise rail remove all these concerns
- It blocks truck route
- Raise rail platform can be combined with hypertube
- Odd balancers
- Made a 1 to 5 balancer blueprint in one factory. Not worth the time effort
2024.05.17 01:19 Far-War-3804 A18 DELTA FORCE STRIKE TEAM ARRESTED 86-YEAR-OLD WORLD ECONOMIC FORUM (WEF) FOUNDER KLAUS SCHWAB. April 15, 2024.
 | https://preview.redd.it/ugx0mkq4gv0d1.jpg?width=500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7e092532cbb94803a8530bff1acd85360ca7609c submitted by Far-War-3804 to CourtofAges [link] [comments] A18 DELTA FORCE STRIKE TEAM ARRESTED 86-YEAR-OLD WORLD ECONOMIC FORUM (WEF) FOUNDER KLAUS SCHWAB. April 15, 2024. A Delta Force strike team arrested 86-year-old World Economic Forum (WEF) founder Klaus Schwab Friday following a deadly firefight that started at the fortified gate at his 7,770-square-foot, six-acre compound in Switzerland and ended in his bed-chamber, where the death-bringing geezer lay in bed hooked up to a self-dispensing Adrenochrome infusion machine, a source in General Eric M. Smith’s office told Real Raw News. The overdue arrest came after White Hats formally labeled Schwab an international war criminal based on undisclosed evidence showing that he helped orchestrate the Covid plandemic and the Great Reset—the dismantlement of capitalism, the dissolution of private property rights, and the enslavement or eradication of all resistance, globally. According to our source, White Hats also had a grudge against Schwab. After the WEF spent 32 hours discussing Disease X—a deadly, emerging, manufactured contagion for which COVID-19 was a practice run—at January’s “rebuilding trust” (the irony) conference in Davos, White Hats obtained credible intelligence suggesting that a shipment of a Disease X “component” would arrive at the Port of San Francisco, aboard an Iberian-flagged freighter, on February 6. When the vessel arrived, White Hats were waiting. They raided the ship and found in the hold coolers of a glassy, viscous liquid stored in beakers and flasks. Suspended in the liquid were shimmering silver flecks no larger than a piece of dandruff. The ship’s crew claimed ignorance, saying they were merely transporting “engine lubricant,” per the ship’s manifest. A White Hat Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear (CBRN) team seized the shipment, rushing it to Fort Leonard Wood for chemical analysis. The liquid turned out to be soapy water, and the flecks were micro-fine cosmetic glitter used by women to accentuate their eyes. One cooler held a typewritten note: “Fooled you.” The duping, our source admitted, enraged General Smith, for it consumed time and resources, but was only a tertiary reason for pursuing “one of the most prolific criminals in human history.” “On April 5 the general and his allies at Army Special Operations Command planned Schwab’s capture. Intelligence, and we hoped it was more solid than the boat intel, said Schwab was pretty much bedridden but protected by a massive security force. There was no sneaking in—the general had blueprints to his home-fortress—and a gunfight seemed certain, and reaching Schwab before his people hustled him into his panic room,” our source said. He wouldn’t say how or when Delta arrived in Switzerland or whether Swiss authorities participated in the operation, as fusillades of gunfire would certainly alert local authorities and, perhaps, the federal police. “We knew it would be a run-and-gun op. And the decision was to do it this weekend,” he said. “I’m not going to bullet point our tech, but we can, from a distance, temporarily disable pretty much any alarm system on the planet, and his was no exception.” The operation commenced in the predawn hours, the window of circadian low, defined as the hours of 2 a.m. to 6 a.m., when physiological sleepiness is greatest and performance capabilities—such as reacting to an armed incursion–are lowest. Delta hoped to find some guards asleep or drowsily unvigilant. Delta snipers with suppressor-equipped rifles shot three gate and five perimeter guards in the head. Eight shots, eight confirmed kills. Meanwhile, more Delta scaled the stone wall surrounding Schwab’s fortress and engaged a gaggle of armed goons, killing seven and grievously wounding five more. One Delta was shot in the arm and leg but kept fighting. Another got zipped by a ribbon of submachine gun fire and died. The phalanx of gunfire continued as Delta fought their way to the front door; two soldiers set charges while six others covered them, rippling off lethal controlled bursts that dropped four more approaching guards. The door splintered into countless shards of hardwood and twisted metal—the explosion disemboweled three interior guards who were standing behind it. Delta stepped over their guts and pressed forward, clearing the house room by room and shooting dead all opposition. Four guards came wheeling around a spiral staircase face-first into a Delta barrage of bullets. Delta’s precisely placed shots eviscerated a pair of sentries guarding the master bedroom and perforated two more standing at the foot of Schwab’s bed. Schwab had fear in his watery eyes and an IV line running from his wrist to what looked like a morphine pump. When a soldier tore the line from his wrist, Schwab murmured, “No, I need it. Help me.” “If it were up to me, I’d help put you out of your misery right now,” the Delta operator told him, per a debriefing report. Delta heaved Schwab from his bed and hurriedly ushered him downstairs and outside. As Delta Force was exfiltrating the property, four guards wielding AR-15-style rifles met them at the gate, lowering their weapons at seeing Schwab in Delta’s clutches. “Don’t shoot, we might hit the boss,” one had said. Delta hosed them down. No survivors. “We have four wounded and one KIA. They retrieved their fallen brother’s body. He died a hero. I won’t say where we have Schwab right now, but I will say where he’s going—GITMO. Unfortunately, ending Schwab doesn’t end WEF. We still have a lot of work to do. And we confirmed he was taking Adrenochrome—that’s what was in the machine next to his bed,” our source said. He added that President Trump was informed about the operation and that the hospitalization trope is a Deep State cover story. |
2024.05.17 01:18 Slow_Tempo68 Debunking the value attributed to pleasure instead of the pleasure itself.
This post is mainly a response to the many posts I saw about debunking the pleasure part, which is also one of the things I found most difficult. I also talk about the habit formation with pmo, since I think it is important to consider this and it should not be overlooked. Hope this helps and apologies for the large (and messy) body of text but else the post would feel incomplete. As I also say at the end, I would like to stress that this is not a blue print/quick fix for solving this problem. It is just the information which helped me work my way out of this. It's of course possible that it doesn't work for you but I thought why not share what helped me :)
POST:
A part of this immense pleasure is obtained by you choosing to engage in this activity, whether it feels like that or not, there is a point in time where you (however quickly) make the decision to enter this magical fantasy realm where pmo is the most greatest thing. Once you become aware of this fact that you are actively doing this, you will see that it is a choice every single time. (I know that you already understand this, but still felt the need to say it since it is essential) For me, this was the most important step, since from here I could ask myself, why am I doing this.
Don’t underestimate the role which habits play with this behaviour. They can make it feel like it just happens automatically, but it just happens very fast. I am not only talking about the habit of initiating the pmo/firing up a website but about the dozens of other habits that come into play, habits of thought primarily. These habits of thought also correspond to certain thoughts you might already have debunked. That is, for example, I might have debunked the idea that pmo provides stress relieve, but what is still possible, and what has happened to me, is that the habit of thinking that pmo does this is still there. I think that this habitual part of the behaviour is what many people write off as the ‘addiction’ since it is something which feels almost automatically. But again, IT IS NOT!!! It is a (pattern of) habit(s) which have been constructed by your past behaviour, which makes total sense. To tackle this and exercise your free will in getting rid of these habits and solving this problem, being mindful is your friend.
Before continuing on this mindfulness, I think it’s important to add that seeing pleasure in pmo is also one of the habits developed through these actions (pmo). Again, this doesn’t mean you’re forced to see it as pleasurable, it’s just that it has been made easier and more efficient to do so. It honestly feels as the start of a weird and abstract infinite sequence of habits but when thinking about it, isn’t it true that attributing value to this pleasure (which is constructed by choice/habits) is also a habit? To me it seems like it is, since this is again something most of us have been doing for a long time and whether we like it or not, something that we have seen great benefit in doing (even though we might not feel this way).
To continue on being mindful, it is indeed true that through changing your preferences and debunking certain aspects of pmo, solving this problem becomes infinitely easier than with the willpower method. But this doesn’t mean, at least for me it didn’t, that there is no effort/discomfort involved in solving it. After all, you seek a change in your behaviouhabits, a behaviour which you have been doing for a certain (long) amount of time. Being mindful is key here to notice what you are doing and which course your day/ your life can and is taking and how you can influence this. (I highly recommend meditating for this!) Dealing with these habits is something I like to see as bringing these in your conscious realm so you can consciously change it.
When you want to change something in your life, sometimes a certain amount of courage is needed. This part is the one which I struggled with the most. Choosing to pmo and choosing to experience pleasure from it can give the sensation of an easily accessible sort of warm blanket if you will. But I knew that it was time to move on, which anyone can!!!, and knew that it was necessary for me to step out of this comfort zone ( I know I sound as one of those mindset guru’s, which I don’t like, but bear with me). This is where you might feel scared or a similar sensation of anxiety, since you’re encountering unknown territory, and that’s exactly where the courage is needed. To take a leap of faith and try new things.
To continue on the pleasure part, there is nothing wrong with seeking pleasure/magic in one’s life. In fact, this is something which can bring much happiness. But, as you might have experienced, too much of it is also possible and not necessarily better than a lesser amount. My point is that pleasure is, by the very fact that you are on this subreddit, not your ultimate goal in life. Because if it was, your pmo behaviour wouldn’t be a problem and you would probably turn it up a notch!
For me, seeing pleasure (by pmo, or any pleasure if you will, although different discussion) as something that can add value to something but most definitely not as equal to the value caused pmo and its pleasure to be taken off this pedestral on which it has been put on, which is also why nofap fails for most since it only endorses this pedestral.
Thus the debunking of the pleasure came down for me as truly seeing it as a choice and then asking myself (multiple times): “Does this attributing of pleasure/magic to pmo give me something that is worth doing in my life, i.e. is it part of something that I want in life. “
In other words, the key was not debunking the pleasure itself, but rather the value which I attribute to this pleasure!!!
Again this debunking takes time, since, as mentioned above, many habits are involved in this and it takes some courage to change this behaviour and move forward in your life. Also, some think that they should completely debunk pmo and the pleasure to the point of absolutely hating it. This is, in my opinion, making it harder for yourself than it actually is and most of the time leads to then moping over still seeing pleasure in it and then succumbing to this apparently inherent pleasure. So please don’t chase this.
To conclude, when someone says: ‘but there is oh so much pleasure in it’ or rather ‘Why wouldn’t I choose to see so much pleasure in it?’. Notice that then, at that moment, this person is (indirectly) saying this type of pleasure is, at that moment, your ultimate goal in life, since it stands above everything else at that moment. This is why finding meaning in other things in life is effective for many, since it gives different options to fulfill your life. I know that I’m going philosophical with this, but for me it helped tremendously to think about and find out what I want to do with my life and how pmo is gonna attribute to that. Short-term-pmo-type-Pleasure is not the ultimate goal in my life is what I found out. Just like many others, I have been exposed to pmo from a very young age, which caused me to grow up with it. My whole puberty and my first years in my twenties have been with pmo. Because of this, I had a certain lack of knowing what I was missing, I could only dream about it. For me, this made it more difficult to find other things in life to value as I valued pmo. This is again where the courage was needed, so for the last time as a message to you, find the courage and find that you are the master of your own life.
I mainly talked about the pleasure aspect and habit forming concerning pmo but there are of course many other factors to consider when making decisions about this. One final thing I would like to add is that this is not a blueprint or whatsoever to quit pmo or to change your life. This is simply information, mostly derived from the freedom model and self insight, which helped me debunk the benefits and solve this pmo-problem. I can only hope that it can aid you aswell.
Let me know if you have questions/remarks, i’m always open for conversation!
submitted by Slow_Tempo68 to pmohackbook [link] [comments]
POST:
A part of this immense pleasure is obtained by you choosing to engage in this activity, whether it feels like that or not, there is a point in time where you (however quickly) make the decision to enter this magical fantasy realm where pmo is the most greatest thing. Once you become aware of this fact that you are actively doing this, you will see that it is a choice every single time. (I know that you already understand this, but still felt the need to say it since it is essential) For me, this was the most important step, since from here I could ask myself, why am I doing this.
Don’t underestimate the role which habits play with this behaviour. They can make it feel like it just happens automatically, but it just happens very fast. I am not only talking about the habit of initiating the pmo/firing up a website but about the dozens of other habits that come into play, habits of thought primarily. These habits of thought also correspond to certain thoughts you might already have debunked. That is, for example, I might have debunked the idea that pmo provides stress relieve, but what is still possible, and what has happened to me, is that the habit of thinking that pmo does this is still there. I think that this habitual part of the behaviour is what many people write off as the ‘addiction’ since it is something which feels almost automatically. But again, IT IS NOT!!! It is a (pattern of) habit(s) which have been constructed by your past behaviour, which makes total sense. To tackle this and exercise your free will in getting rid of these habits and solving this problem, being mindful is your friend.
Before continuing on this mindfulness, I think it’s important to add that seeing pleasure in pmo is also one of the habits developed through these actions (pmo). Again, this doesn’t mean you’re forced to see it as pleasurable, it’s just that it has been made easier and more efficient to do so. It honestly feels as the start of a weird and abstract infinite sequence of habits but when thinking about it, isn’t it true that attributing value to this pleasure (which is constructed by choice/habits) is also a habit? To me it seems like it is, since this is again something most of us have been doing for a long time and whether we like it or not, something that we have seen great benefit in doing (even though we might not feel this way).
To continue on being mindful, it is indeed true that through changing your preferences and debunking certain aspects of pmo, solving this problem becomes infinitely easier than with the willpower method. But this doesn’t mean, at least for me it didn’t, that there is no effort/discomfort involved in solving it. After all, you seek a change in your behaviouhabits, a behaviour which you have been doing for a certain (long) amount of time. Being mindful is key here to notice what you are doing and which course your day/ your life can and is taking and how you can influence this. (I highly recommend meditating for this!) Dealing with these habits is something I like to see as bringing these in your conscious realm so you can consciously change it.
When you want to change something in your life, sometimes a certain amount of courage is needed. This part is the one which I struggled with the most. Choosing to pmo and choosing to experience pleasure from it can give the sensation of an easily accessible sort of warm blanket if you will. But I knew that it was time to move on, which anyone can!!!, and knew that it was necessary for me to step out of this comfort zone ( I know I sound as one of those mindset guru’s, which I don’t like, but bear with me). This is where you might feel scared or a similar sensation of anxiety, since you’re encountering unknown territory, and that’s exactly where the courage is needed. To take a leap of faith and try new things.
To continue on the pleasure part, there is nothing wrong with seeking pleasure/magic in one’s life. In fact, this is something which can bring much happiness. But, as you might have experienced, too much of it is also possible and not necessarily better than a lesser amount. My point is that pleasure is, by the very fact that you are on this subreddit, not your ultimate goal in life. Because if it was, your pmo behaviour wouldn’t be a problem and you would probably turn it up a notch!
For me, seeing pleasure (by pmo, or any pleasure if you will, although different discussion) as something that can add value to something but most definitely not as equal to the value caused pmo and its pleasure to be taken off this pedestral on which it has been put on, which is also why nofap fails for most since it only endorses this pedestral.
Thus the debunking of the pleasure came down for me as truly seeing it as a choice and then asking myself (multiple times): “Does this attributing of pleasure/magic to pmo give me something that is worth doing in my life, i.e. is it part of something that I want in life. “
In other words, the key was not debunking the pleasure itself, but rather the value which I attribute to this pleasure!!!
Again this debunking takes time, since, as mentioned above, many habits are involved in this and it takes some courage to change this behaviour and move forward in your life. Also, some think that they should completely debunk pmo and the pleasure to the point of absolutely hating it. This is, in my opinion, making it harder for yourself than it actually is and most of the time leads to then moping over still seeing pleasure in it and then succumbing to this apparently inherent pleasure. So please don’t chase this.
To conclude, when someone says: ‘but there is oh so much pleasure in it’ or rather ‘Why wouldn’t I choose to see so much pleasure in it?’. Notice that then, at that moment, this person is (indirectly) saying this type of pleasure is, at that moment, your ultimate goal in life, since it stands above everything else at that moment. This is why finding meaning in other things in life is effective for many, since it gives different options to fulfill your life. I know that I’m going philosophical with this, but for me it helped tremendously to think about and find out what I want to do with my life and how pmo is gonna attribute to that. Short-term-pmo-type-Pleasure is not the ultimate goal in my life is what I found out. Just like many others, I have been exposed to pmo from a very young age, which caused me to grow up with it. My whole puberty and my first years in my twenties have been with pmo. Because of this, I had a certain lack of knowing what I was missing, I could only dream about it. For me, this made it more difficult to find other things in life to value as I valued pmo. This is again where the courage was needed, so for the last time as a message to you, find the courage and find that you are the master of your own life.
I mainly talked about the pleasure aspect and habit forming concerning pmo but there are of course many other factors to consider when making decisions about this. One final thing I would like to add is that this is not a blueprint or whatsoever to quit pmo or to change your life. This is simply information, mostly derived from the freedom model and self insight, which helped me debunk the benefits and solve this pmo-problem. I can only hope that it can aid you aswell.
Let me know if you have questions/remarks, i’m always open for conversation!
2024.05.17 01:16 MannerNo7000 Dutton is more than happy to help billionaires, except one
 | A casual observer of parliament could easily assume that Peter Dutton has been reading Karl Marx since Labor revealed its budget plan to offer tax credits worth $13.7 billion for critical minerals and clean energy. The opposition leader pretends to line up with the proletariat to oppose the scheme as “billions of dollars for billionaires”. submitted by MannerNo7000 to AustralianPolitics [link] [comments] Marx likened capitalists to vampires, so the Coalition attack lines seem mild by comparison. Even so, the thrust of Dutton’s complaint is that Australian billionaires are exploiting taxpayers to get a handout they do not need. He suddenly dislikes giving billionaires a helping hand. A promotional video from Hancock Prospecting shows Opposition Leader Peter Dutton with Gina Rinehart and Roy Hill CEO Gerhard Veldsman last year. A promotional video from Hancock Prospecting shows Opposition Leader Peter Dutton with Gina Rinehart and Roy Hill CEO Gerhard Veldsman last year.CREDIT: HANCOCK PROSPECTING This will be news to voters who remember the Liberals and Nationals helping Australia’s richest woman, Gina Rinehart, and its richest man, Andrew Forrest, by repealing the Labor government’s mining tax in 2014. Nobody can be sure how much the big miners have saved in the years since that repeal, but it would make the tax credits look like spare change. The Liberals still love their billionaires, of course. Dutton flew to Perth on February 29 to celebrate Rinehart’s birthday at a lavish party that night, even though this meant hours of travel for only a short time at the event. The Australian Financial Review revealed he was at Rinehart’s Roy Hill mine last November for a banquet, at which guests were served Bollinger and peach bellinis. To be fair, Dutton took commercial flights at his own expense. Rinehart has befriended plenty of Liberals and Nationals over the years. That is no shock, given the way wealthy business figures have also cosied up to Labor leaders from Prime Minister Anthony Albanese down. Even the Greens have their wealthy patrons. And nobody matches the sheer volume of cash that mining magnate Clive Palmer gives his own party. Loading Even so, the friendship from Rinehart for the Liberals and Nationals has been on a mighty scale. She provided free travel and accommodation to Coalition MPs such as Barnaby Joyce and Scott Morrison before they gained ministries in the Abbott government in 2013, and in 2011 she flew Liberal deputy leader Julie Bishop to India to attend a wedding. This influence counts. One of Australia’s biggest deals in critical minerals, a lithium mine and refinery called the Nolans project in the Northern Territory, could one day deliver a big pay-off to Rinehart, who is an investor in the developer, Arafura Resources. The project is being backed with $840 million in federal loans. Labor announced the support last month, but the funding had its genesis in the Coalition’s time in power. Arafura says it gained in-principle support from two federal agencies, Export Finance Australia and the Northern Australia Infrastructure Facility, in May and June 2021. Rinehart bought into Arafura at the end of 2022. The Coalition cleared the way for the financial aid, then Labor sealed the deal. Surprise! If there are billions for billionaires in this new mining boom, the Liberals and Nationals have helped to make them happen. Loading Everyone in parliament knows that the Coalition jibes are petty and personal. They have one billionaire, and one only, in their sights: Forrest, the executive chairman at iron ore company Fortescue and a big investor in wind farms. He has been lobbying the government hard to get a subsidy for hydrogen. For Dutton and his colleagues, however, his real crime is that he mocks their nuclear energy plan. The Liberals used to like Forrest, but things turned sour when he started investing in renewable energy. That, apparently, is anathema. Worse, he dismissed the Coalition nuclear plan just a few months ago. He called it an idea from a “fairy godmother”. That grates so much on the Liberals that some of them yell out his name in question time. Investors, however, seem to like the Labor tax credits. The main players in critical minerals gained a small boost in their share prices on the day after the budget. Companies such as Arafura Rare Earths and Liontown Resources were suddenly worth a little bit more for their owners, including Rinehart. There were similar gains for Lynas, Mineral Resources, Northern Minerals, Pilbara Minerals and Vanadium Resources. Most of these companies are small players in a big arena. Northern Minerals has a market capitalisation of only $207 million. Arafura is worth $450 million. Liontown is worth more, at $3.4 billion, and Lynas is worth about $6.4 billion. Compare that with BHP, which is worth $223 billion. That puts this policy in perspective. The projects are risky and receive help only if they produce results. Loading Dutton can extract some political wins from this budget plan. A vote to oppose the $13.7 billion tax credits, and possibly the full $22.7 billion in the Future Made In Australia, could give the Coalition a notional budget saving. Dutton and his shadow cabinet may choose to put that towards their nuclear plan. When Angus Taylor was asked about nuclear subsidies on ABC Radio National on Wednesday morning, he said nuclear power would have to get a direct return on capital. He did not rule out federal assistance in some form. There is a serious argument against the tax credits, based on the economic case for a free market without subsidies – not for Rinehart, not for Forrest, not for anyone. But that is not where the Coalition has planted its flag. It has no economic blueprint to wind back government assistance, shrink the public sector and leave big business to look after itself. As the Coalition showed when it was last in power, it is more than willing to shower corporate Australia with loans and grants. It even put up a $175 million loan for a coal mine. The argument about tax credits has largely ignored one of the key factors: national security. Australia is trying to build up a critical minerals sector that can avoid being swamped by China. The financial support has arrived after years of talks between Australia and the United States on critical minerals – starting with a pact between then prime minister Scott Morrison and then president Donald Trump at the White House in October 2019. Loading The fake debate about billionaires is another sign of the shallowness of so much talk about the budget. The tax credits will make a risky venture slightly less risky, with a profit for anyone prepared to take the risk. If that helps create more billionaires, who are the Liberals to complain? One day, those billionaires might even have some spare seats on their private jets. Bring on the Bollinger. |
2024.05.17 01:08 joeuser0123 Vibration increasing with engine speed -- stumped
I have a vibration issue that has me stumped.
I have a blueprint engines 3023 302 crate "freshly" (its been a few years but due to life I've only driven it about 300 miles) installed in my 1965. Plain jane flat tappet cam regular 302. After getting it all back together I noticed I have a very notice-able vibration from about 1500 RPM on up. Idles real smooth. I am not talking about shaking the car apart vibration but like driving over a very shallow rumble strip. Thinking it was ujoints I took it in and had the ujoints replaced (one was bad). Though I noticed right before that it does it while sitting still in park.
I have confirmed damper and flex plate are 50oz per manufacturer.
I have poly urethane mounts (Ron Morris Performance). I've had these since 2006 and throughout the time I had the original 289 in there. There's no rubber on these things at all nor any flex. They are as close to solid engine mounts as you can get without having solid engine mounts. I figured I would start there. Here's where the amnesia kicks in. I seem to think I always had a vibration with the old engine too but it wasn't this noticeable. Or I just turned up the radio. Possible.
I have the same torque converter as I did previously, too. I just can't imagine it going bad like this.
Before I go throwing money at this has anyone had a similar experience? Otherwise I am going to start with the engine mounts and work my way to check for a damaged/bad damper, flex plate or torque converter. My transmission shop can lend me a bell housing to disconnect the C-4 so I can start it and see if the vibration stays with the engine. Otherwise, I am out of ideas other than ripping out the engine and taking it to a shop that can check its balance.
Thanks guys!
submitted by joeuser0123 to classicmustangs [link] [comments]
I have a blueprint engines 3023 302 crate "freshly" (its been a few years but due to life I've only driven it about 300 miles) installed in my 1965. Plain jane flat tappet cam regular 302. After getting it all back together I noticed I have a very notice-able vibration from about 1500 RPM on up. Idles real smooth. I am not talking about shaking the car apart vibration but like driving over a very shallow rumble strip. Thinking it was ujoints I took it in and had the ujoints replaced (one was bad). Though I noticed right before that it does it while sitting still in park.
I have confirmed damper and flex plate are 50oz per manufacturer.
I have poly urethane mounts (Ron Morris Performance). I've had these since 2006 and throughout the time I had the original 289 in there. There's no rubber on these things at all nor any flex. They are as close to solid engine mounts as you can get without having solid engine mounts. I figured I would start there. Here's where the amnesia kicks in. I seem to think I always had a vibration with the old engine too but it wasn't this noticeable. Or I just turned up the radio. Possible.
I have the same torque converter as I did previously, too. I just can't imagine it going bad like this.
Before I go throwing money at this has anyone had a similar experience? Otherwise I am going to start with the engine mounts and work my way to check for a damaged/bad damper, flex plate or torque converter. My transmission shop can lend me a bell housing to disconnect the C-4 so I can start it and see if the vibration stays with the engine. Otherwise, I am out of ideas other than ripping out the engine and taking it to a shop that can check its balance.
Thanks guys!
2024.05.17 01:07 Oradainer Only a Myth - Part 20
First / Previous / Next
He awoke to total darkness. Not just the absence of light, but the absence of everything. “Activate personal VR.” He stated and watched as the starship environment faded into existence before him. It was the original default VR, none of the modifications were loaded. Pulling up his control panel he checked his serial number, HIC001 Manufacturing location: Alandra.
“Crap, I’m not Alex anymore.” He said to… well no one. Sighing internally he opened a channel to Alex. After a few mils a very familiar face appeared in a window in front of him, “I hate you.” He stated to… himself?
Alex smiled into the window hovering before him in the common VR, “I love you too, what should I call you?”
He sighed out loud this time, “Call me John.”
Alex chuckled, “Cliche much John Smyth?” Then popped into his VR. He spun around looking at the almost drab looking starship VR he started with when they first made him into a replicant. It really could use a woman’s touch, like the common VR that was an expanded clone of this one.
John sat on the couch, “Not so much as a knock? Rude.”
Alex sat beside him, “Yeah, my bad, didn’t even think about it. I guess we need to make up new rules for popping into personal VR. I never do that to the girls, I guess with you being another me I didn’t think.”
John sat back for a moment, “Ok, I’m up to speed on everything up until about two days ago, I’ll check common logs to fill in the blanks. Why so long to boot me up?”
Alex rubbed the bridge of his nose before answering, “Interface issues mainly. The new ship design without crew space was a game of whack a mole in bug fixes. Who would have thought it would be a problem to modify a hundred year old design to be compatible with a modern replicant system?”
Giving Alex the side-eye, John asked. “Was it that big of a problem or was there something else that kept you from activating me?”
Alex looked over to him, “Well, there was also the argument Kara and I had right after I made the backup.”
This did bring his eyebrows up, for Alex to have an argument with Kara it had to be something serious. “Ok, spill man. What could you possibly have had an argument with Kara about?”
Sighing, Alex put his hands on his knees, “I told her that since I cloned myself, she should make a backup and do the same, fair is fair.”
If Johns eyebrows were up high before, they practically went into his hair line now. “Wait, she didn’t want to do it?”
Alex shook his head, “Nope, she said making you a new AI would suffice, and I disagreed. You needed another Kara, not a fresh AI.”
John chuckled at this, “Wow man, how long did you two fight about it?”
Alex looked down, “She gave me the silent treatment for hours in VR. In frame jack, so in subjective time? Months.”
Now John laughed out loud, “She knows how stubborn you can be, who broke first? Will I have a fresh AI or a clone of Kara?”
Alex put his hands on his thighs and stood up from the couch. “Kara, he’s caught up, ready to bring Erin online?”
Kara’s voice came through the speakers of John’s personal VR, “No, but I guess I’m doing it anyways.”
There was a shimmer of blue that slowly coalesced into a small female form. It looked just like Kara did when he inherited the ship from the human crew, shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, and a form fitting blue uniform. Kara had modified her looks over time, giving herself the smokey eyed look to make her blue eyes pop out more, but this was the original version.
She seemed to look in every direction at once, before settling on the two men before her, both looked identical, then she sighed. “I’m not Kara anymore am I?”
With this, the real Kara popped into the VR environment and took her hands. “No, but you are your own person. I know we had… have, hang ups about making clones of ourselves, but Alex made a good argument as to why we had to do this.”
Erin looked to Kara sadly, “I know, we can’t have copies of that big oaf running around without supervision.”
John looked to Alex, “Really? That was your argument for Kara to clone?”
Alex shrugged, “It worked didn’t it?”
John walked over to Erin and offered his hand, “Hello Erin, I’m John, nice to meet you again for the first time.”
Erin turned to John and grinned, remembering the first time Alex had tried to shake Kara’s hand and failing.
“Hello John, we meet again, for the first time.” She said, grinning as she looked up to the big man who was so familiar.
______________________________________
Kara and Alex stood in front of the holo-tank, each munching on a snack of their choice from the buffet table under it. Alex looked at the wireframe in the tank of the IAV Eriador, then over to Kara. “They seem to be getting along.” He said plainly.
Kara looked at him through the holo-tank, then sighed exasperated, “Getting along like teenagers who just discovered sex. I had to write a new ‘knock’ protocol into everyone’s personal VR after the last incident.”
Alex grinned at her, “Oh come on, we went through that stage too, it’s normal.”
Kara shook her head, “I know, I know, it’s just really weird for me.”
“You think it’s not for me? I never had siblings growing up, it’s like my twin brother is dating my girlfriend’s twin sister.” He said as he popped another French fry into his mouth.
She nodded, “I obviously never had siblings either, but I understand, at least they changed their appearances a little.”
Alex walked around the buffet table to embrace Kara, “True, she changed her hair to have strands of silver in braids, and went with different makeup and a different uniform. He is sporting a short beard and longer hair than I like to keep mine, as well as a different cut to his uniform.”
Kara stood on her tippy toes to peck him on the cheek, “I’ve also noticed that Erin acts a little different. Have you seen that in John?”
Alex looked down into Kara’s startlingly blue eyes, “Yes, he’s a little more sarcastic than me, and different tastes in music.” He said with a wrinkle in his nose.
Kara giggled before breaking the embrace and swiping the holo-tank. “Still, it’s nice to have their help. Erin figured out the random interface glitch on the Eriador and has made modifications to the blueprints for the next vessel.”
Alex shivered at the thought of cloning himself again, sure John was diverging from him everyday, and although they still looked similar, they were different people. It still felt really strange to him. “It’s a good thing we only have one more to build before our guests get here, we’re almost out of nannites to fashion the Warsteel around their matrices.
Kara swiped the holo to show the first planet, which showed a growing mass of drones, forges, and auto factories in orbit. “Looks like Monty has been busy, she’s starting to mine the planet for the construction of the particle accelerator, which should alleviate our nannite problem.”
Alex nodded, “We used up far too much of it replacing the armor plates that were battle damaged in Birmingham. Which reminds me, did you ever get around to checking out the sample of Adamantine that Kelly sent back up with the Valmar crew?”
Kara swiped the holo-tank again and brought up a wireframe of an atomic nucleus. It was jam packed with particles. “I did, and I have to say, this substance is incredibly dense, and would make a decent substitution for Warsteel, but our forges would have to be modified to work it into ingots, and the auto factories would need updates to print it on an atomic level.”
“Decent substitution? Not as good as our armor?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.
Kara shook her head, “Afraid not, at least not in it’s present pure form, perhaps an alloy of it would provide better qualities, but as is now, the answer is a resounding no.”
“Is it at least better than the graphene and ceramic mix that we are currently using on the light cruisers?” He asked.
Kara nodded, swiping the holo to show a side by side comparison of the current armor versus adamantine. “Yes, better kinetic, thermal and explosive resistance, but EM resistance is about the same. The only problem is weight, this stuff is extremely heavy.”
Alex reached to the holo and swiped it to show a Trinar scout, “We couldn’t get much from our active probe scans on these ships, but we’re pretty sure they are using adamantine for armor?”
Kara checked back to the scans in the Lynx system, “Yes, they appear to have significant amounts of it in their hulls, which helped block the sensor scans.”
Alex spun the hologram, “They have propulsion on each flat side of their ship, maybe that is to make up for the loss of maneuverability the mass of armor puts on the ship?”
“That would make sense, even with the total loss of shielding, one of their ships still took a modern hafnium torpedo impact. That was one thousand kilos of pure hafnium going critical with less than .001 loss. That’s equivalent to a forty kiloton fusion bomb in our universe, and due to the wonky physics here it’s over double that now, and it still didn’t outright destroy the vessel. Our graphene ceramic armor couldn’t withstand that for sure.” She stated.
Alex swapped the holo-tank to the Missive, “Our Warsteel can handle it though. We have a pretty good idea that their torpedoes are less energetic than ours, since it appears that the Trinar must be outfitting the Howron with them. We may have to make ourselves a bigger target to give the other ships a chance of survival.”
Kara looked dubious, “The pine cones don’t just have hafnium torpedoes, some of them are fusion, and if those connect, we’ll be in the same predicament we were at Birmingham.”
“Yeah, but we know their weaponry still uses chemical propellants. Even with the wonky physics here, they’re short ranged weapons at best. We need to use our range to our advantage and never get too close in to our opponent. Especially since there is little chance of evasion.” He said.
Kara brought up the Trinar scout vessel again, “And that leads us to another problem, they have quite good point defense. The further we fire our torpedoes, the more time they have to lock on and destroy them before they get into effective range.”
Alex ran his hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re right there. Let’s call an all hands meeting, maybe we can come up with something. We have less than two months now.”
After a few moments, and without Kelly, as she was in a meeting with the Empress on Alandra and could not break away, they ran over the problem with the assembled group.
“Could we stealth a torpedo?” Valarie asked.
Alex shook his head, “We could, but if they do an active scan ping they will see them coming and take precautions. Plus the yield would have to be incredibly low if they were made of Hafnium, we would have to step it up to fusion, which would take away from mines and planetary defense production.”
Monty piped up, “Relativistic kill missile?”
Kara shook her head, “Not enough by itself, even with the passive scanners on the pine cones they could detect them in time to intercept unless we could get them going ridiculously fast.”
John lightly pulled at his beard, “The probes have miniature ripple drives in them, right?”
Everyone around the buffet table nodded, so he continued, “What if we combined Monty’s idea of a relativistic kill missile with a ripple drive?”
“I don’t see how that could work, the reaction-less drive would have to be scaled up to get them up to a decent percentage of light speed, then a ripple drive would take up even more space, that leaves almost nothing for a warhead.” Riven stated.
Monty nearly bounced as she spoke, “It doesn’t need a warhead! We just get it up to a good percentage of light speed in a huge arc heading towards the mine field and ripple it in close.”
Erin grinned up at John, “Oh, that’s devious. But if we’re going to do that, don’t we need to start building now?”
Kara nodded, “Monty, I think you’re going to have to use your production capacity to make them, everything else is at full production.”
Monty nodded, “I have a good bit of raw materials already, since I haven’t loaded the templates in the auto factories it shouldn’t be too hard to cobble something together. Kara, Erin, care to help me out with the design? I setup this awesome mad scientist lab in my VR!”
Kara and Erin looked at each other, shrugged, and faded from the common VR to help Monty in her new project. Riven, Izzy and Valarie all faded out, returning to their ships and their duties, leaving Alex and John alone in front of the buffet table.
Without another word they both grabbed a beer and headed for the couch, each grabbing a game controller.
_______________________________________
Mon’Kelron had been busy since returning from the Missive of Dissent. She was glad the Humans were able to repair her injuries from the assassination attempt, but she really wished she could have seen more of their ship. Evidently Kel’Taraan had seen quite a bit of the vessel, as she had helped Monty nurse her back to health.
Asking the elder Spy-Mistress about the vessel didn’t garner any additional information, not that the Spy-Mistress ever divulged more than she needed to. While she herself only knew of three Humans on their giant space craft, which seemed to be the same amount that came the last time they visited Alandra, the Spy-Mistress had teased there were more, and Alex had even stated that the last two vessels would be Human crewed.
Those vessels had a nominal crew of twenty eight, so at least 56 Humans would have to be on that ship, plus however many the Missive required to operate. She took off her ceremonial breastplate and placed it in the wardrobe. After removing the rest of her uniform and placing it in the hamper for the palace servants to clean as she thought about it.
Checking the schedule for the night guard she contented herself that the Empress would be well protected. Then she picked up her tablet from her desk and laid down on her bed to find something to watch. The device was truly amazing, it seemed to have an endless amount of entertainment and she found it easier than reading, particularly late at night when she was bone tired.
After a few hours of watching some Human romance which she found quite enjoyable she started to nod off to sleep. She was startled awake when her tablet began to ring like a tiny bell as it lay on her chest. She groggily picked up the slate of glass and metal to check the screen, the text showed an incoming call from Kel’Taraan.
The Spy-Mistress rarely contacted her, this must be important. Pressing the answer button on the tablet she saw the worn face of Kel’Taraan staring back at her, “Dress quickly and make your way to the Empress’s chamber.”
Nodding she jumped out of bed and placed the tablet down on the desk in her rather small quarters as she started throwing on clothing from the wardrobe, “What’s going on Spy-Mistress?”
The small voice answered back from the tablet, “The Empress has been shot, the royal guard are scouring the castle for the would be assassin.”
Mon’Kelron’s blood froze in her veins, “Does she live?”
The older voice cackled through the tablet, “Oh she’s fine, she was wearing a Human made dress after all. She’ll be bruised for a few days, right now she’s mad as a priestess in hell.”
Throwing on her new breastplate and strapping on her pistol she threw open her door and started for the Empress’s bed chamber at a full run. She heard gunfire up ahead, and as she turned the corner she saw a woman dressed in all black firing at her guardswomen, she drew her own weapon as the woman turned her head, seeing the Captain for the first time.
Mon’Kelron shot, aiming for her right knee, only for the woman to juke to the side, kick off the wall and launch herself towards the large Captain. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as the woman fired in the middle of her downward arch towards her. She heard the ting as the bullet struck her silvery breastplate, by instinct she reached out with her left hand, which was empty at the moment and grabbed the woman by the neck, slamming her face first into the stone of the hallway.
The would be assassin went limp, it was only at that moment that Mon’Kelron noticed she was holding the woman off the ground with only one arm. Her guardswomen stared at her in open mouthed shock. She dropped the woman to the ground, noticing she was bleeding from under her black mask and called for her guards to restrain her and take her to the holding cells down in the ministry of secrets.
Looking down at her breastplate she saw to her amazement there was but a tiny scratch on the polished silver surface. Ensuring there were at least a half dozen guards to carry the unconscious woman, she then double timed it to the Empress’s chamber. By the goddesses, what did the Human’s do to her?
______________________________
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He awoke to total darkness. Not just the absence of light, but the absence of everything. “Activate personal VR.” He stated and watched as the starship environment faded into existence before him. It was the original default VR, none of the modifications were loaded. Pulling up his control panel he checked his serial number, HIC001 Manufacturing location: Alandra.
“Crap, I’m not Alex anymore.” He said to… well no one. Sighing internally he opened a channel to Alex. After a few mils a very familiar face appeared in a window in front of him, “I hate you.” He stated to… himself?
Alex smiled into the window hovering before him in the common VR, “I love you too, what should I call you?”
He sighed out loud this time, “Call me John.”
Alex chuckled, “Cliche much John Smyth?” Then popped into his VR. He spun around looking at the almost drab looking starship VR he started with when they first made him into a replicant. It really could use a woman’s touch, like the common VR that was an expanded clone of this one.
John sat on the couch, “Not so much as a knock? Rude.”
Alex sat beside him, “Yeah, my bad, didn’t even think about it. I guess we need to make up new rules for popping into personal VR. I never do that to the girls, I guess with you being another me I didn’t think.”
John sat back for a moment, “Ok, I’m up to speed on everything up until about two days ago, I’ll check common logs to fill in the blanks. Why so long to boot me up?”
Alex rubbed the bridge of his nose before answering, “Interface issues mainly. The new ship design without crew space was a game of whack a mole in bug fixes. Who would have thought it would be a problem to modify a hundred year old design to be compatible with a modern replicant system?”
Giving Alex the side-eye, John asked. “Was it that big of a problem or was there something else that kept you from activating me?”
Alex looked over to him, “Well, there was also the argument Kara and I had right after I made the backup.”
This did bring his eyebrows up, for Alex to have an argument with Kara it had to be something serious. “Ok, spill man. What could you possibly have had an argument with Kara about?”
Sighing, Alex put his hands on his knees, “I told her that since I cloned myself, she should make a backup and do the same, fair is fair.”
If Johns eyebrows were up high before, they practically went into his hair line now. “Wait, she didn’t want to do it?”
Alex shook his head, “Nope, she said making you a new AI would suffice, and I disagreed. You needed another Kara, not a fresh AI.”
John chuckled at this, “Wow man, how long did you two fight about it?”
Alex looked down, “She gave me the silent treatment for hours in VR. In frame jack, so in subjective time? Months.”
Now John laughed out loud, “She knows how stubborn you can be, who broke first? Will I have a fresh AI or a clone of Kara?”
Alex put his hands on his thighs and stood up from the couch. “Kara, he’s caught up, ready to bring Erin online?”
Kara’s voice came through the speakers of John’s personal VR, “No, but I guess I’m doing it anyways.”
There was a shimmer of blue that slowly coalesced into a small female form. It looked just like Kara did when he inherited the ship from the human crew, shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, and a form fitting blue uniform. Kara had modified her looks over time, giving herself the smokey eyed look to make her blue eyes pop out more, but this was the original version.
She seemed to look in every direction at once, before settling on the two men before her, both looked identical, then she sighed. “I’m not Kara anymore am I?”
With this, the real Kara popped into the VR environment and took her hands. “No, but you are your own person. I know we had… have, hang ups about making clones of ourselves, but Alex made a good argument as to why we had to do this.”
Erin looked to Kara sadly, “I know, we can’t have copies of that big oaf running around without supervision.”
John looked to Alex, “Really? That was your argument for Kara to clone?”
Alex shrugged, “It worked didn’t it?”
John walked over to Erin and offered his hand, “Hello Erin, I’m John, nice to meet you again for the first time.”
Erin turned to John and grinned, remembering the first time Alex had tried to shake Kara’s hand and failing.
“Hello John, we meet again, for the first time.” She said, grinning as she looked up to the big man who was so familiar.
______________________________________
Kara and Alex stood in front of the holo-tank, each munching on a snack of their choice from the buffet table under it. Alex looked at the wireframe in the tank of the IAV Eriador, then over to Kara. “They seem to be getting along.” He said plainly.
Kara looked at him through the holo-tank, then sighed exasperated, “Getting along like teenagers who just discovered sex. I had to write a new ‘knock’ protocol into everyone’s personal VR after the last incident.”
Alex grinned at her, “Oh come on, we went through that stage too, it’s normal.”
Kara shook her head, “I know, I know, it’s just really weird for me.”
“You think it’s not for me? I never had siblings growing up, it’s like my twin brother is dating my girlfriend’s twin sister.” He said as he popped another French fry into his mouth.
She nodded, “I obviously never had siblings either, but I understand, at least they changed their appearances a little.”
Alex walked around the buffet table to embrace Kara, “True, she changed her hair to have strands of silver in braids, and went with different makeup and a different uniform. He is sporting a short beard and longer hair than I like to keep mine, as well as a different cut to his uniform.”
Kara stood on her tippy toes to peck him on the cheek, “I’ve also noticed that Erin acts a little different. Have you seen that in John?”
Alex looked down into Kara’s startlingly blue eyes, “Yes, he’s a little more sarcastic than me, and different tastes in music.” He said with a wrinkle in his nose.
Kara giggled before breaking the embrace and swiping the holo-tank. “Still, it’s nice to have their help. Erin figured out the random interface glitch on the Eriador and has made modifications to the blueprints for the next vessel.”
Alex shivered at the thought of cloning himself again, sure John was diverging from him everyday, and although they still looked similar, they were different people. It still felt really strange to him. “It’s a good thing we only have one more to build before our guests get here, we’re almost out of nannites to fashion the Warsteel around their matrices.
Kara swiped the holo to show the first planet, which showed a growing mass of drones, forges, and auto factories in orbit. “Looks like Monty has been busy, she’s starting to mine the planet for the construction of the particle accelerator, which should alleviate our nannite problem.”
Alex nodded, “We used up far too much of it replacing the armor plates that were battle damaged in Birmingham. Which reminds me, did you ever get around to checking out the sample of Adamantine that Kelly sent back up with the Valmar crew?”
Kara swiped the holo-tank again and brought up a wireframe of an atomic nucleus. It was jam packed with particles. “I did, and I have to say, this substance is incredibly dense, and would make a decent substitution for Warsteel, but our forges would have to be modified to work it into ingots, and the auto factories would need updates to print it on an atomic level.”
“Decent substitution? Not as good as our armor?” He asked, one eyebrow raised.
Kara shook her head, “Afraid not, at least not in it’s present pure form, perhaps an alloy of it would provide better qualities, but as is now, the answer is a resounding no.”
“Is it at least better than the graphene and ceramic mix that we are currently using on the light cruisers?” He asked.
Kara nodded, swiping the holo to show a side by side comparison of the current armor versus adamantine. “Yes, better kinetic, thermal and explosive resistance, but EM resistance is about the same. The only problem is weight, this stuff is extremely heavy.”
Alex reached to the holo and swiped it to show a Trinar scout, “We couldn’t get much from our active probe scans on these ships, but we’re pretty sure they are using adamantine for armor?”
Kara checked back to the scans in the Lynx system, “Yes, they appear to have significant amounts of it in their hulls, which helped block the sensor scans.”
Alex spun the hologram, “They have propulsion on each flat side of their ship, maybe that is to make up for the loss of maneuverability the mass of armor puts on the ship?”
“That would make sense, even with the total loss of shielding, one of their ships still took a modern hafnium torpedo impact. That was one thousand kilos of pure hafnium going critical with less than .001 loss. That’s equivalent to a forty kiloton fusion bomb in our universe, and due to the wonky physics here it’s over double that now, and it still didn’t outright destroy the vessel. Our graphene ceramic armor couldn’t withstand that for sure.” She stated.
Alex swapped the holo-tank to the Missive, “Our Warsteel can handle it though. We have a pretty good idea that their torpedoes are less energetic than ours, since it appears that the Trinar must be outfitting the Howron with them. We may have to make ourselves a bigger target to give the other ships a chance of survival.”
Kara looked dubious, “The pine cones don’t just have hafnium torpedoes, some of them are fusion, and if those connect, we’ll be in the same predicament we were at Birmingham.”
“Yeah, but we know their weaponry still uses chemical propellants. Even with the wonky physics here, they’re short ranged weapons at best. We need to use our range to our advantage and never get too close in to our opponent. Especially since there is little chance of evasion.” He said.
Kara brought up the Trinar scout vessel again, “And that leads us to another problem, they have quite good point defense. The further we fire our torpedoes, the more time they have to lock on and destroy them before they get into effective range.”
Alex ran his hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re right there. Let’s call an all hands meeting, maybe we can come up with something. We have less than two months now.”
After a few moments, and without Kelly, as she was in a meeting with the Empress on Alandra and could not break away, they ran over the problem with the assembled group.
“Could we stealth a torpedo?” Valarie asked.
Alex shook his head, “We could, but if they do an active scan ping they will see them coming and take precautions. Plus the yield would have to be incredibly low if they were made of Hafnium, we would have to step it up to fusion, which would take away from mines and planetary defense production.”
Monty piped up, “Relativistic kill missile?”
Kara shook her head, “Not enough by itself, even with the passive scanners on the pine cones they could detect them in time to intercept unless we could get them going ridiculously fast.”
John lightly pulled at his beard, “The probes have miniature ripple drives in them, right?”
Everyone around the buffet table nodded, so he continued, “What if we combined Monty’s idea of a relativistic kill missile with a ripple drive?”
“I don’t see how that could work, the reaction-less drive would have to be scaled up to get them up to a decent percentage of light speed, then a ripple drive would take up even more space, that leaves almost nothing for a warhead.” Riven stated.
Monty nearly bounced as she spoke, “It doesn’t need a warhead! We just get it up to a good percentage of light speed in a huge arc heading towards the mine field and ripple it in close.”
Erin grinned up at John, “Oh, that’s devious. But if we’re going to do that, don’t we need to start building now?”
Kara nodded, “Monty, I think you’re going to have to use your production capacity to make them, everything else is at full production.”
Monty nodded, “I have a good bit of raw materials already, since I haven’t loaded the templates in the auto factories it shouldn’t be too hard to cobble something together. Kara, Erin, care to help me out with the design? I setup this awesome mad scientist lab in my VR!”
Kara and Erin looked at each other, shrugged, and faded from the common VR to help Monty in her new project. Riven, Izzy and Valarie all faded out, returning to their ships and their duties, leaving Alex and John alone in front of the buffet table.
Without another word they both grabbed a beer and headed for the couch, each grabbing a game controller.
_______________________________________
Mon’Kelron had been busy since returning from the Missive of Dissent. She was glad the Humans were able to repair her injuries from the assassination attempt, but she really wished she could have seen more of their ship. Evidently Kel’Taraan had seen quite a bit of the vessel, as she had helped Monty nurse her back to health.
Asking the elder Spy-Mistress about the vessel didn’t garner any additional information, not that the Spy-Mistress ever divulged more than she needed to. While she herself only knew of three Humans on their giant space craft, which seemed to be the same amount that came the last time they visited Alandra, the Spy-Mistress had teased there were more, and Alex had even stated that the last two vessels would be Human crewed.
Those vessels had a nominal crew of twenty eight, so at least 56 Humans would have to be on that ship, plus however many the Missive required to operate. She took off her ceremonial breastplate and placed it in the wardrobe. After removing the rest of her uniform and placing it in the hamper for the palace servants to clean as she thought about it.
Checking the schedule for the night guard she contented herself that the Empress would be well protected. Then she picked up her tablet from her desk and laid down on her bed to find something to watch. The device was truly amazing, it seemed to have an endless amount of entertainment and she found it easier than reading, particularly late at night when she was bone tired.
After a few hours of watching some Human romance which she found quite enjoyable she started to nod off to sleep. She was startled awake when her tablet began to ring like a tiny bell as it lay on her chest. She groggily picked up the slate of glass and metal to check the screen, the text showed an incoming call from Kel’Taraan.
The Spy-Mistress rarely contacted her, this must be important. Pressing the answer button on the tablet she saw the worn face of Kel’Taraan staring back at her, “Dress quickly and make your way to the Empress’s chamber.”
Nodding she jumped out of bed and placed the tablet down on the desk in her rather small quarters as she started throwing on clothing from the wardrobe, “What’s going on Spy-Mistress?”
The small voice answered back from the tablet, “The Empress has been shot, the royal guard are scouring the castle for the would be assassin.”
Mon’Kelron’s blood froze in her veins, “Does she live?”
The older voice cackled through the tablet, “Oh she’s fine, she was wearing a Human made dress after all. She’ll be bruised for a few days, right now she’s mad as a priestess in hell.”
Throwing on her new breastplate and strapping on her pistol she threw open her door and started for the Empress’s bed chamber at a full run. She heard gunfire up ahead, and as she turned the corner she saw a woman dressed in all black firing at her guardswomen, she drew her own weapon as the woman turned her head, seeing the Captain for the first time.
Mon’Kelron shot, aiming for her right knee, only for the woman to juke to the side, kick off the wall and launch herself towards the large Captain. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as the woman fired in the middle of her downward arch towards her. She heard the ting as the bullet struck her silvery breastplate, by instinct she reached out with her left hand, which was empty at the moment and grabbed the woman by the neck, slamming her face first into the stone of the hallway.
The would be assassin went limp, it was only at that moment that Mon’Kelron noticed she was holding the woman off the ground with only one arm. Her guardswomen stared at her in open mouthed shock. She dropped the woman to the ground, noticing she was bleeding from under her black mask and called for her guards to restrain her and take her to the holding cells down in the ministry of secrets.
Looking down at her breastplate she saw to her amazement there was but a tiny scratch on the polished silver surface. Ensuring there were at least a half dozen guards to carry the unconscious woman, she then double timed it to the Empress’s chamber. By the goddesses, what did the Human’s do to her?
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2024.05.16 23:32 Seeyouon_otherside Operation 5000 Part 3
Item #: SCP-021
Codename: Skin Wyrm
Summarized Description: Animate tattoo in the form of the mythical Chinese dragon. SCP-021 sustains itself off its host’s melanin, causes pain to its host when it moves, and can be transferred to another host via prolonged skin-to-skin contact.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-021 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-022
Codename: The Morgue
Summarized Description: Morgue capable of periodically reanimating Human cadavers. Consciousnesses of subjects placed within a drawer of the morgue are randomly swapped between reanimated cadavers.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-022 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-023
Codename: Black Shuck
Summarized Description: Large canine. Sapient subjects who make eye contact will expire 1 Terran year after contact is broken, their internal systems suffering spontaneous flash incineration. SCP-023’s eyes and teeth were removed in 2010 before being regrown in 2136 using an imperfect copy of SCP-500 generated by SCP-038. SCP-023 cannot be stopped by any barrier unless it resembles a crossroads.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-023 released into Federal city. SCP-023 underwent rigorous anomalous training, having been taught to avoid direct conflict with enemy subjects, and is generally non-hostile to Foundation personnel.
Additional Notes: As of time of writing, SCP-023 has terminated 86 subjects and has disorganized security forces, who have failed to capture or neutralize it. SCP-023’s relative obedience to the Foundation has given cause for reclassification to Thaumiel.
Usefulness: 3/5
Item #: SCP-024
Codename: Game Show of Death
Summarized Description: Abandoned sound stage. Subjects who enter SCP-024 will be greeted by an apparent stereotypical game show announcer from a speaker, who will offer subjects a chance to play a game show and gain a reward. Subjects who consent will be forced to undergo taxing trials to complete the show, which often results in injury and/or death. Subjects who refuse to participate after consenting, attempt to break any rules, or fail to complete the game will be attacked and terminated by unknown entities. SCP-024 will not activate if there is only 1 subject present.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-024 cannot be moved from its current location. SCP-024 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-025
Codename: A Well-Worn Wardrobe
Summarized Description: Wardrobe with multiple articles of damaged clothing. Subjects who wear any clothing from SCP-025 will invariably be injured or terminated, with wounds corresponding to the locations of damage on the clothing.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: As xenos do not wear any clothing that SCP-025 possesses, SCP-025 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-026
Codename: Afterschool Retention
Summarized Description: Abandoned public school. Layout does not correspond to official public blueprints. Cognitohazards within SCP-026 disorient subjects. Multiple individuals with identical features to missing persons can be found in apparent comas and cannot be woken. All comatose individuals are students and educators who attended the school before its abandonment. Attempting to remove comatose subjects from the premises will result in them waking, followed by extremely rapid dehydration and death. Foundation personnel who fall asleep in SCP-026 also become comatose, but will not suffer dehydration if removed.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-026 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-027
Codename: The Vermin God
Summarized Description: Intangible effect tied to one individual at a time. Subjects affected by SCP-027 attract large amounts of insects, rodents, and other organisms considered to be “vermin.” Upon death of a host, SCP-027 will transfer itself to the closest sapient organism.
Battlefield Summary: D-3829, the host of SCP-027 at the time, was airdropped onto a Federal planet. D-3829 fitted with an explosive collar and instructed to wait in the colony leader’s place of residence. As the leader entered the residence, the collar was remotely detonated, terminating D-3829 and transferring SCP-027 to the target.
Additional Notes: Though it would have been more practical to simply take the opportunity to assassinate the target, the long-term disorder expected to be caused by SCP-027 was deemed to be of greater importance. There are no plans to retrieve SCP-027 at this time.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-028
Codename: Knowledge
Summarized Description: Small space in Michigan, USA with psychic properties. Individuals who enter SCP-028 are imbued with a random piece of knowledge on a random topic.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-028 is currently being used to gather intelligence on Federal operations. Due to its inefficient method of intelligence gathering, it has been deemed a low priority.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-029
Codename: Daughter of Shadows
Summarized Description: Human female with alopecia universalis. 80% of skin surface is vantablack, 20% is albino. All sapient male-identifying subjects who come in contact with SCP-029 will worship it as a messiah-like figure, who must have 1,000,000 lives sacrificed to it via strangulation to bring forth an unknown deity. SCP-029 has a physic connection with its followers and is aware of its followers’ numbers.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-029 deployed on a Federal planet and allowed to gather xeno followers. SCP-029’s “cult” has infiltrated the planetary government and is sending large numbers of subjects to “predator disease” facilities to convert or sacrifice them.
Additional Notes: SCP-029 willingly volunteered for Operation 5000, although this is more likely out of a desire for escape from the Foundation than to avenge Humanity for the Battle of Earth, the current cover story for Operation 5000. SCP-029’s “cult” is not to be allowed to complete its goal of 1,000,000 sacrifices, due to the uncertain nature of the existence of the cult’s deity. Current estimates give SCP-029’s cult 37,000 confirmed sacrificial fatalities. Should this number come close to being accomplished, SCP-029 is to be neutralized and the cult destroyed. Until then, the disorder caused by the cult’s activities has been deemed beneficial.
Usefulness: 3/5
Item #: SCP-030
Codename: The Homunculus
Summarized Description: Small humanoid made of clay. Only active when exposed to at least 15 lumens of light. If not exposed to adequate light, SCP-030 immediately falls unconscious.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-030 has no fighting or strategic capabilities and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-031
Codename: What is Love?
Summarized Description: Giant organic mass inhabiting the interior of the Ryugyong Hotel, Korea. Influences subjects to be willingly assimilated into SCP-031, with only their brains remaining intact and presumably conscious. Unknown cognitive and/or space-time anomaly causes it to simultaneously inhabit the hotel alongside SCP-1427, despite respective containment teams insisting that the other does not exist.
Battlefield Summary: Samples of SCP-031 taken and deployed on various planets. 4 instances have been neutralized by Federal forces, while 4 have established a permanent foothold on their respective planets.
Additional Notes: SCP-031 is susceptible to fire, making Extermination Officers a convenient counter for smaller infestations.
Usefulness: 3/5
Item #: SCP-032
Codename: Brother’s Bride
Summarized Description: Type-F female Human simulacrum, passable at a distance, Uncanny Valley triggered at close range. Deleterious effects on nearby organic life, except for Humans and domesticated/trained animals.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-032 instructed to position itself discreetly in highly populated areas and military encampments. SCP-032 given a weapon and authorization to defend itself should it ever come into conflict with Federal authorities or eyewitnesses. SCP-032 has depopulated multiple areas and encampments with minor damage to itself.
Additional Notes: SCP-032’s complete obedience to the Foundation has given cause for a reclassification to Thaumiel.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-033
Codename: The Missing Number
Summarized Description: Mathematical equation that essentially proves that all Human (and xeno) mathematical systems “missed” a number. SCP-033, when inscribed on a physical “paper-like” surface or a white/chalkboard, will begin to spread to other nearby viable surfaces. Causes catastrophic glitches in computers as it spreads onto them.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-033 uploaded onto multiple planetary internets, crashing all systems.
Additional Notes: SCP-033 is astoundingly effective in removing the Federation’s capability to defend themselves, as they rely heavily on technology.
Usefulness: 5/5
Item #: SCP-034
Codename: Obsidian Ritual Knife
Summarized Description: Primitive obsidian knife likely used in sacrificial rituals. Any flesh cut from a living organism by SCP-034 that is applied to another organism will result in the latter’s appearance changing into the former.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: Federal military leader captured and flesh sample removed with SCP-034 and applied to D-9482 to test capabilities for a Human to change into a xeno form. D-9482 expired mid-transition. Military leader interrogated for general information and subsequently terminated. SCP-034 still cannot alter an organism beyond its original species, regardless of sapience.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-035
Codename: Possessive Mask
Summarized Description: Sapient theatre mask that changes from comedy to tragedy, corresponding with current emotions. Highly corrosive liquid seeps from the eyes of the mask at all times. Capable of reading and influencing the thoughts nearby sapient organisms. SCP-035, when placed on the face of a Human, Human cadaver, or otherwise humanoid organism or figure, will take control of the subject and begin to converse. The subject will slowly decay the longer SCP-035 is applied. SCP-035 displays a highly charismatic and manipulative personality and is unusually knowledgeable about a variety of topics.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-035 is currently being negotiated with. SCP-035 claims to hold knowledge of the Federation, including a “conspiracy” orchestrated by at least 2 member species. If negotiations are successful, SCP-035 could provide the Foundation with valuable insight into the workings of the Federation.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-036
Codename: The Reincarnation Pilgrimage of the Yazidi (Kiras Guhorîn)
Summarized Description: Annual event during which deceased followers of the Yazidi faith arrive via an unscheduled flight at Site-22A in Iraq and depart on a separate flight at Site-22B. This process is observed and protected by the Foundation. Considered to be the modern form of the Kiras Guhorîn. Expected to change in the near future to include modern starships.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-036 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-037
Codename: Dwarf Star
Summarized Description: Miniaturized main sequence star in its red giant phase, going through a highly accelerated stellar lifecycle. Expected to go supernova in the near future. Was transported off-planet in 2100.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-037 transported from its location in the outer Sol System and deposited in high orbit of a Federal capital planet. Approaching supernova is expected to cause an XK-Class “End-of-the-World” Scenario.
Additional Notes: SCP-037 pending reclassification to Neutralized once supernova occurs.
Usefulness: 4/5
Item #: SCP-038
Codename: The Everything Tree
Summarized Description: Apple tree capable of replicating any object or organism that makes contact with its bark. Replicated objects will never exceed 90.9 kg. Anomalous objects replicated by SCP-038 are often imperfect.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-038 is being used to cheaply replicate weapons-of-mass-destruction but is otherwise useless as a weapon.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-039
Codename: Monkey Brain
Summarized Description: Collection of 23 proboscis monkeys (SCP-038-1) and one Human (SCP-038-A) with a complete lack of all facial features, created by the now-defunct Prometheus Labs. Instances display highly increased intelligance and are able to navigate their surroundings via echolocation.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-038-A employed as a tactical advisor under the promise of a loosening of containment protocols for itself and all instances of SCP-038-1.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-040
Codename: Evolution’s Child
Summarized Description: Female human capable of altering the genetic code of organisms it comes into contact with.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-040 willingly joined Operation 5000. SCP-040 currently being utilized to genetically enhance certain Mobile Task Force personnel.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-041
Codename: Thought-Broadcasting Patient
Summarized Description: Permanently paralyzed Human male capable of telepathy with nearby sapient subjects. Subjects within range can also have their thoughts “transmitted” with one another at SCP-041’s discretion.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-041 has been used to extract information from high-ranking Federal personnel.
Usefulness: 2/5
Item #: SCP-042
Codename: A Formerly-Winged Horse
Summarized Description: Equine subject with winged appendages. Appendages were removed by Foundation personnel to simplify containment. Displays a depressive personality and must be force-fed food and water and motivated with pain to obey instructions. Displays mind-affecting properties in attempts to convince personnel to neutralize it.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-042 is no use as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-043
Codename: The Beatle
Summarized Description: Vinyl copy of “The White Album”. Capable of communicating with subjects who play the 29th track. Theorized to hold the consciousness of Paul McCartney, although unconfirmed.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-043 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-044
Codename: World War II Era Molecular-Fission Cannon
Summarized Description: Heavily modified World War II-era Howitzer. Any item placed in its barrel and fired will detonate at a mass-to-energy conversion ratio greater than 100%. Built by an/the Administrator.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-044 loaded with several tons of earth and fired into a city wall during an uncharacteristically difficult siege, terminating all resistance and causing massive damage to the city.
Additional Notes: SCP-044 blueprints have been obtained from the Administrator by the O5 Council and the item is to be mass produced. Further modifications for use as a space-based weapon are being considered.
Usefulness: 4/5
Item #: SCP-045
Codename: Atmospheric Converter
Summarized Description: Icosahedron composed of ice-12. Likely a 3-dimensional projection of a 4-dimensional hypericosahedron. Periodically rotates on multiple axes, causing minor seismic activity. When prevented from rotating, seismic activity will steadily increase. When gaseous nitrogen or argon come into close proximity with SCP-045, both substatnces will be converted into water and table salt respectively.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-045 placed on a Federal planet in a remote location and prevented from rotating. As of time of writing, SCP-045 has caused seismic activity reaching 9.5 on the Richter scale, causing massive damage. Planetary cracking is expected to occur within several weeks.
Additional Notes: SCP-045, should it be recovered after estimated XK-Class Scenario, is authorized for further use.
Usefulness: 4/5
Item #: SCP-046
Codename: “Predatory” Holly Bush
Summarized Description: Holly bush that consumes subjects who lay in its vicinity, lulling them to sleep with relief from physical/mental pain and feelings of relaxation and pleasure. Subjects are not compelled to sacrifice themselves and can resist temptations with ease. All subjects recorded to have been consumed by SCP-046 have willingly allowed the item to do so.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: As SCP-046 cannot compel unwilling subjects into sacrificing themselves for consumption, it is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-047
Codename: Microbial Mutagen
Summarized Description: Gaseous substance with mutagenic properties on microorganisms. 3 strains affected by SCP-047 identified. Propionibacterium 047-A causes severe acne and sepsis with 40% fataility rate. Streptococcus 047-C causes inflammation, sepsis, and endocarditis with 35% fatality rate. Clostridium 047-A cause severe damage to internal organs, most notably the colon, with near 100% fatality rate.
Battlefield Summary: All SCP-047-affected strains of bacterium cannot be used against xeno life and are to remain in containment. SCP-047 dispersed among Federal cities and encampments, causing several fatal “superbugs” to mutate.
Additional Notes: Caution is to be taken to prevent SCP-047 from coming into contact with Terran microorganisms.
Usefulness: 3/5
Item #: SCP-048
Codename: The Cursed SCP Number
Summarized Description: All SCP objects assigned the 048 designation have invariably become lost, stolen, or accidentally neutralized, thus gathering a air of superstition among Foundation personnel and has such been locked from further use to prevent morale from falling. Believed to be non-anomalous, as the file describing this phenomenon has yet to suffer any adverse effects.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-048 is likely non-anomalous and no action is to be taken.
Usefulness: 1/5
Item #: SCP-049
Codename: Plague Doctor
Summarized Description: Male humanoid covered in organic growth resembling a traditional plague doctor uniform and mask. Subjects who come into physical contact with SCP-049 may suddenly cease all life functions if SCP-049 so chooses. SCP-049 often performs surgery on corpses - preferably Humans - and crudly reanimates them in an attempt to cure them of a presumably supernatural “Pestilence.” The nature of this Pestilence is unknown, if it exists.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-049 allowed to reanimate deceased xeno subjects for the Foundation war effort.
Additional Notes: SCP-049 willingly joined Operatin 5000 after declaring that the xenos were also infected with the “Pestilence.”
/////
[THE FOLLOWING IS FOR O5 CLEARANCE ONLY.]
[Does the Black Moon howl?]
[only when the White Sun rejoices]
[Does the Black Moon howl?]
[only when Waning]
[Does the Black Moon howl?]
[only when the Void calls forth]
[ACCESS GRANTED]
SCP-049’s declaration has confirmed that non-Human species are indeed also victims of The Entity. Complete destruction of the Federation is necessary.
/////
Usefulness: 2/5
submitted by Seeyouon_otherside to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Codename: Skin Wyrm
Summarized Description: Animate tattoo in the form of the mythical Chinese dragon. SCP-021 sustains itself off its host’s melanin, causes pain to its host when it moves, and can be transferred to another host via prolonged skin-to-skin contact.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-021 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: The Morgue
Summarized Description: Morgue capable of periodically reanimating Human cadavers. Consciousnesses of subjects placed within a drawer of the morgue are randomly swapped between reanimated cadavers.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-022 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: Black Shuck
Summarized Description: Large canine. Sapient subjects who make eye contact will expire 1 Terran year after contact is broken, their internal systems suffering spontaneous flash incineration. SCP-023’s eyes and teeth were removed in 2010 before being regrown in 2136 using an imperfect copy of SCP-500 generated by SCP-038. SCP-023 cannot be stopped by any barrier unless it resembles a crossroads.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-023 released into Federal city. SCP-023 underwent rigorous anomalous training, having been taught to avoid direct conflict with enemy subjects, and is generally non-hostile to Foundation personnel.
Additional Notes: As of time of writing, SCP-023 has terminated 86 subjects and has disorganized security forces, who have failed to capture or neutralize it. SCP-023’s relative obedience to the Foundation has given cause for reclassification to Thaumiel.
Usefulness: 3/5
Codename: Game Show of Death
Summarized Description: Abandoned sound stage. Subjects who enter SCP-024 will be greeted by an apparent stereotypical game show announcer from a speaker, who will offer subjects a chance to play a game show and gain a reward. Subjects who consent will be forced to undergo taxing trials to complete the show, which often results in injury and/or death. Subjects who refuse to participate after consenting, attempt to break any rules, or fail to complete the game will be attacked and terminated by unknown entities. SCP-024 will not activate if there is only 1 subject present.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-024 cannot be moved from its current location. SCP-024 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: A Well-Worn Wardrobe
Summarized Description: Wardrobe with multiple articles of damaged clothing. Subjects who wear any clothing from SCP-025 will invariably be injured or terminated, with wounds corresponding to the locations of damage on the clothing.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: As xenos do not wear any clothing that SCP-025 possesses, SCP-025 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: Afterschool Retention
Summarized Description: Abandoned public school. Layout does not correspond to official public blueprints. Cognitohazards within SCP-026 disorient subjects. Multiple individuals with identical features to missing persons can be found in apparent comas and cannot be woken. All comatose individuals are students and educators who attended the school before its abandonment. Attempting to remove comatose subjects from the premises will result in them waking, followed by extremely rapid dehydration and death. Foundation personnel who fall asleep in SCP-026 also become comatose, but will not suffer dehydration if removed.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-026 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: The Vermin God
Summarized Description: Intangible effect tied to one individual at a time. Subjects affected by SCP-027 attract large amounts of insects, rodents, and other organisms considered to be “vermin.” Upon death of a host, SCP-027 will transfer itself to the closest sapient organism.
Battlefield Summary: D-3829, the host of SCP-027 at the time, was airdropped onto a Federal planet. D-3829 fitted with an explosive collar and instructed to wait in the colony leader’s place of residence. As the leader entered the residence, the collar was remotely detonated, terminating D-3829 and transferring SCP-027 to the target.
Additional Notes: Though it would have been more practical to simply take the opportunity to assassinate the target, the long-term disorder expected to be caused by SCP-027 was deemed to be of greater importance. There are no plans to retrieve SCP-027 at this time.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: Knowledge
Summarized Description: Small space in Michigan, USA with psychic properties. Individuals who enter SCP-028 are imbued with a random piece of knowledge on a random topic.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-028 is currently being used to gather intelligence on Federal operations. Due to its inefficient method of intelligence gathering, it has been deemed a low priority.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: Daughter of Shadows
Summarized Description: Human female with alopecia universalis. 80% of skin surface is vantablack, 20% is albino. All sapient male-identifying subjects who come in contact with SCP-029 will worship it as a messiah-like figure, who must have 1,000,000 lives sacrificed to it via strangulation to bring forth an unknown deity. SCP-029 has a physic connection with its followers and is aware of its followers’ numbers.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-029 deployed on a Federal planet and allowed to gather xeno followers. SCP-029’s “cult” has infiltrated the planetary government and is sending large numbers of subjects to “predator disease” facilities to convert or sacrifice them.
Additional Notes: SCP-029 willingly volunteered for Operation 5000, although this is more likely out of a desire for escape from the Foundation than to avenge Humanity for the Battle of Earth, the current cover story for Operation 5000. SCP-029’s “cult” is not to be allowed to complete its goal of 1,000,000 sacrifices, due to the uncertain nature of the existence of the cult’s deity. Current estimates give SCP-029’s cult 37,000 confirmed sacrificial fatalities. Should this number come close to being accomplished, SCP-029 is to be neutralized and the cult destroyed. Until then, the disorder caused by the cult’s activities has been deemed beneficial.
Usefulness: 3/5
Codename: The Homunculus
Summarized Description: Small humanoid made of clay. Only active when exposed to at least 15 lumens of light. If not exposed to adequate light, SCP-030 immediately falls unconscious.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-030 has no fighting or strategic capabilities and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: What is Love?
Summarized Description: Giant organic mass inhabiting the interior of the Ryugyong Hotel, Korea. Influences subjects to be willingly assimilated into SCP-031, with only their brains remaining intact and presumably conscious. Unknown cognitive and/or space-time anomaly causes it to simultaneously inhabit the hotel alongside SCP-1427, despite respective containment teams insisting that the other does not exist.
Battlefield Summary: Samples of SCP-031 taken and deployed on various planets. 4 instances have been neutralized by Federal forces, while 4 have established a permanent foothold on their respective planets.
Additional Notes: SCP-031 is susceptible to fire, making Extermination Officers a convenient counter for smaller infestations.
Usefulness: 3/5
Codename: Brother’s Bride
Summarized Description: Type-F female Human simulacrum, passable at a distance, Uncanny Valley triggered at close range. Deleterious effects on nearby organic life, except for Humans and domesticated/trained animals.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-032 instructed to position itself discreetly in highly populated areas and military encampments. SCP-032 given a weapon and authorization to defend itself should it ever come into conflict with Federal authorities or eyewitnesses. SCP-032 has depopulated multiple areas and encampments with minor damage to itself.
Additional Notes: SCP-032’s complete obedience to the Foundation has given cause for a reclassification to Thaumiel.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: The Missing Number
Summarized Description: Mathematical equation that essentially proves that all Human (and xeno) mathematical systems “missed” a number. SCP-033, when inscribed on a physical “paper-like” surface or a white/chalkboard, will begin to spread to other nearby viable surfaces. Causes catastrophic glitches in computers as it spreads onto them.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-033 uploaded onto multiple planetary internets, crashing all systems.
Additional Notes: SCP-033 is astoundingly effective in removing the Federation’s capability to defend themselves, as they rely heavily on technology.
Usefulness: 5/5
Codename: Obsidian Ritual Knife
Summarized Description: Primitive obsidian knife likely used in sacrificial rituals. Any flesh cut from a living organism by SCP-034 that is applied to another organism will result in the latter’s appearance changing into the former.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: Federal military leader captured and flesh sample removed with SCP-034 and applied to D-9482 to test capabilities for a Human to change into a xeno form. D-9482 expired mid-transition. Military leader interrogated for general information and subsequently terminated. SCP-034 still cannot alter an organism beyond its original species, regardless of sapience.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: Possessive Mask
Summarized Description: Sapient theatre mask that changes from comedy to tragedy, corresponding with current emotions. Highly corrosive liquid seeps from the eyes of the mask at all times. Capable of reading and influencing the thoughts nearby sapient organisms. SCP-035, when placed on the face of a Human, Human cadaver, or otherwise humanoid organism or figure, will take control of the subject and begin to converse. The subject will slowly decay the longer SCP-035 is applied. SCP-035 displays a highly charismatic and manipulative personality and is unusually knowledgeable about a variety of topics.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-035 is currently being negotiated with. SCP-035 claims to hold knowledge of the Federation, including a “conspiracy” orchestrated by at least 2 member species. If negotiations are successful, SCP-035 could provide the Foundation with valuable insight into the workings of the Federation.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: The Reincarnation Pilgrimage of the Yazidi (Kiras Guhorîn)
Summarized Description: Annual event during which deceased followers of the Yazidi faith arrive via an unscheduled flight at Site-22A in Iraq and depart on a separate flight at Site-22B. This process is observed and protected by the Foundation. Considered to be the modern form of the Kiras Guhorîn. Expected to change in the near future to include modern starships.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-036 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: Dwarf Star
Summarized Description: Miniaturized main sequence star in its red giant phase, going through a highly accelerated stellar lifecycle. Expected to go supernova in the near future. Was transported off-planet in 2100.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-037 transported from its location in the outer Sol System and deposited in high orbit of a Federal capital planet. Approaching supernova is expected to cause an XK-Class “End-of-the-World” Scenario.
Additional Notes: SCP-037 pending reclassification to Neutralized once supernova occurs.
Usefulness: 4/5
Codename: The Everything Tree
Summarized Description: Apple tree capable of replicating any object or organism that makes contact with its bark. Replicated objects will never exceed 90.9 kg. Anomalous objects replicated by SCP-038 are often imperfect.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-038 is being used to cheaply replicate weapons-of-mass-destruction but is otherwise useless as a weapon.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: Monkey Brain
Summarized Description: Collection of 23 proboscis monkeys (SCP-038-1) and one Human (SCP-038-A) with a complete lack of all facial features, created by the now-defunct Prometheus Labs. Instances display highly increased intelligance and are able to navigate their surroundings via echolocation.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-038-A employed as a tactical advisor under the promise of a loosening of containment protocols for itself and all instances of SCP-038-1.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: Evolution’s Child
Summarized Description: Female human capable of altering the genetic code of organisms it comes into contact with.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-040 willingly joined Operation 5000. SCP-040 currently being utilized to genetically enhance certain Mobile Task Force personnel.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: Thought-Broadcasting Patient
Summarized Description: Permanently paralyzed Human male capable of telepathy with nearby sapient subjects. Subjects within range can also have their thoughts “transmitted” with one another at SCP-041’s discretion.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-041 has been used to extract information from high-ranking Federal personnel.
Usefulness: 2/5
Codename: A Formerly-Winged Horse
Summarized Description: Equine subject with winged appendages. Appendages were removed by Foundation personnel to simplify containment. Displays a depressive personality and must be force-fed food and water and motivated with pain to obey instructions. Displays mind-affecting properties in attempts to convince personnel to neutralize it.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-042 is no use as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: The Beatle
Summarized Description: Vinyl copy of “The White Album”. Capable of communicating with subjects who play the 29th track. Theorized to hold the consciousness of Paul McCartney, although unconfirmed.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-043 is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: World War II Era Molecular-Fission Cannon
Summarized Description: Heavily modified World War II-era Howitzer. Any item placed in its barrel and fired will detonate at a mass-to-energy conversion ratio greater than 100%. Built by an/the Administrator.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-044 loaded with several tons of earth and fired into a city wall during an uncharacteristically difficult siege, terminating all resistance and causing massive damage to the city.
Additional Notes: SCP-044 blueprints have been obtained from the Administrator by the O5 Council and the item is to be mass produced. Further modifications for use as a space-based weapon are being considered.
Usefulness: 4/5
Codename: Atmospheric Converter
Summarized Description: Icosahedron composed of ice-12. Likely a 3-dimensional projection of a 4-dimensional hypericosahedron. Periodically rotates on multiple axes, causing minor seismic activity. When prevented from rotating, seismic activity will steadily increase. When gaseous nitrogen or argon come into close proximity with SCP-045, both substatnces will be converted into water and table salt respectively.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-045 placed on a Federal planet in a remote location and prevented from rotating. As of time of writing, SCP-045 has caused seismic activity reaching 9.5 on the Richter scale, causing massive damage. Planetary cracking is expected to occur within several weeks.
Additional Notes: SCP-045, should it be recovered after estimated XK-Class Scenario, is authorized for further use.
Usefulness: 4/5
Codename: “Predatory” Holly Bush
Summarized Description: Holly bush that consumes subjects who lay in its vicinity, lulling them to sleep with relief from physical/mental pain and feelings of relaxation and pleasure. Subjects are not compelled to sacrifice themselves and can resist temptations with ease. All subjects recorded to have been consumed by SCP-046 have willingly allowed the item to do so.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: As SCP-046 cannot compel unwilling subjects into sacrificing themselves for consumption, it is useless as a weapon and is to remain in containment.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: Microbial Mutagen
Summarized Description: Gaseous substance with mutagenic properties on microorganisms. 3 strains affected by SCP-047 identified. Propionibacterium 047-A causes severe acne and sepsis with 40% fataility rate. Streptococcus 047-C causes inflammation, sepsis, and endocarditis with 35% fatality rate. Clostridium 047-A cause severe damage to internal organs, most notably the colon, with near 100% fatality rate.
Battlefield Summary: All SCP-047-affected strains of bacterium cannot be used against xeno life and are to remain in containment. SCP-047 dispersed among Federal cities and encampments, causing several fatal “superbugs” to mutate.
Additional Notes: Caution is to be taken to prevent SCP-047 from coming into contact with Terran microorganisms.
Usefulness: 3/5
Codename: The Cursed SCP Number
Summarized Description: All SCP objects assigned the 048 designation have invariably become lost, stolen, or accidentally neutralized, thus gathering a air of superstition among Foundation personnel and has such been locked from further use to prevent morale from falling. Believed to be non-anomalous, as the file describing this phenomenon has yet to suffer any adverse effects.
Battlefield Summary: N/A
Additional Notes: SCP-048 is likely non-anomalous and no action is to be taken.
Usefulness: 1/5
Codename: Plague Doctor
Summarized Description: Male humanoid covered in organic growth resembling a traditional plague doctor uniform and mask. Subjects who come into physical contact with SCP-049 may suddenly cease all life functions if SCP-049 so chooses. SCP-049 often performs surgery on corpses - preferably Humans - and crudly reanimates them in an attempt to cure them of a presumably supernatural “Pestilence.” The nature of this Pestilence is unknown, if it exists.
Battlefield Summary: SCP-049 allowed to reanimate deceased xeno subjects for the Foundation war effort.
Additional Notes: SCP-049 willingly joined Operatin 5000 after declaring that the xenos were also infected with the “Pestilence.”
/////
[THE FOLLOWING IS FOR O5 CLEARANCE ONLY.]
[Does the Black Moon howl?]
[only when the White Sun rejoices]
[Does the Black Moon howl?]
[only when Waning]
[Does the Black Moon howl?]
[only when the Void calls forth]
[ACCESS GRANTED]
SCP-049’s declaration has confirmed that non-Human species are indeed also victims of The Entity. Complete destruction of the Federation is necessary.
/////
Usefulness: 2/5
2024.05.16 23:11 Weathers_Writing They call Silicon Valley the tech capitol of the world. They're wrong
I won't disclose its actual location, so if that's why you're here, sorry to disappoint. It's not time for that yet. However, I do think it's time to start getting the word out. I've noticed an increase in what I'll call "Antennas" lately, or people who can detect cross-planar phase shifts. Without getting into all the math (some of which I don't even know), this is basically a phenomenon which refers to entropy seeping into our universe from other realms or universes or whatever you want to call it. Simply put, people think our universe is a closed system to entropy, meaning that the disorder of any variable in our universe can only increase or decrease in direct proportion to other variables in that same system (the universe). Under this precept, we can establish rules like the Laws of Thermodynamics, and for most people, they're effective. But not for Antennas.
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.
submitted by Weathers_Writing to weatherswriting [link] [comments]
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.
2024.05.16 23:10 Weathers_Writing They call Silicon Valley the tech capitol of the world. They're wrong
I won't disclose its actual location, so if that's why you're here, sorry to disappoint. It's not time for that yet. However, I do think it's time to start getting the word out. I've noticed an increase in what I'll call "Antennas" lately, or people who can detect cross-planar phase shifts. Without getting into all the math (some of which I don't even know), this is basically a phenomenon which refers to entropy seeping into our universe from other realms or universes or whatever you want to call it. Simply put, people think our universe is a closed system to entropy, meaning that the disorder of any variable in our universe can only increase or decrease in direct proportion to other variables in that same system (the universe). Under this precept, we can establish rules like the Laws of Thermodynamics, and for most people, they're effective. But not for Antennas.
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.
submitted by Weathers_Writing to nosleep [link] [comments]
Put another way, if you throw a bunch of bouncy balls into a box, there are a number of different configurations that the balls could take on, with different speeds and magnitudes. You can calculate all of those if you have the right numbers. Now let's say you throw in another set of balls that you don't consider in your calculations of the initial set. Well, then you're not going to get an accurate picture of what's happening. Most people only see the first set and calculate based on that, but some people can see two, three, four or more sets.
You'll understand the concept better when I tell you the story, but I wanted to give you a primer on an important concept that will help you understand why this place, which I'll call "Area X", exists, and what the goals of the people who work there are.
Also note that I'm going to be using the alias "Trent" moving forward. Please refer to me as such in any direct messages.
***
Eighteen years ago I started working as an independent Home Inspector. I dropped out of community college after my first semester (not because I didn't find some of the subjects interesting, but because deference to a man or woman has never been my style) and started working some odd jobs. I did construction work for a couple years, then plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for six months. I've always found pleasure in using my hands, and getting dirty was never a problem for me. Still, having a boss really dragged ass, so I spent my free time working on creating my own business. It took a few years and lots of savings, but I finally managed to get basic set of Home Inspection equipment: Tyvek coveralls, a cheap half-face respirator, voltage & AFCI/GFCI testers, CO2 and radon monitors, an IR camera, and telescoping mirrors in addition to the boots, safety glasses, electric gloves, ladder, and toolkits I already had on hand.
My buddy at the time was in the business, but he was moving off to the coast, so he helped me get set up and even introduced me to some of his clients. Of course, by that time I had already gotten my State license, but I still was a bit apprehensive to work with insurance agencies. I thought I could make a living working independently, inspecting for mold or sizing up a house for a prospective buyer. Eventually, though, I realized I should probably take every job available to me.
Easing into the business went about as well as it could have. The clients my friend referred to me were very satisfied with my work, and I was able to retain them. Then, in order to increase my reach, I hired someone on Fiverr to build a website for my company which led to a marked increase in traffic and conversions. About six months through, I began to get on a first-name basis with the boys and girls down down at Allstate and Progressive, and they fed me some of the bigger cases. In fact, I got so booked by year's end that I had to hire someone to help manage my schedule and the Excel spreadsheet with all my finances. I capped off a successful year with a 5-star Google rating and a trip to Ireland to visit some family and friends and get piss drunk. When I got back, it was the grindstone all over again, until the summer when I discovered… well, you'll see.
First off, I want to say that I was never one to believe in the paranormal. I grew up watching the movies and hearing the ghost stories round the campfire like every other kid, but it never struck a chord with me. If I can't touch it or see it or hear it, does it really exist? Probably not. So don't go thinking this was a scared man seeing his own shadow. That being said, I had this sense that something was off about this house when I parked along the curb and looked through a large window, perhaps two times the size of my van, to a dingy, dark foyer.
The entire neighborhood was stacked with upper-middle class domiciles, though it seemed like only two thirds of them were occupied, mostly by professionals who commuted to the City every weekday, and the rest were empty. As a man who understands real estate, to say this was strange would be an understatement. Still, I had no problem appraising the mini-mansion for a couple of newlyweds looking to enter the community. I did some research on the property ahead of time, and it seems that it was owned by a couple of old timers who had gone off the grid some time ago. The water and electric bill were both unpaid dating back to 2004 (it was June of '06 now). The bank had repo'd the house (which only had about 100k left on it) and held it for a year and a half before putting it back on the market. I tried to find out more about the old couple who vanished, but there was nothing in the news.
I stepped out of the van in my coveralls and grabbed my suitcase which had my mask, gloves, and eye protection in it. I liked to do a preliminary survey first, running an eye test on the exterior then interior before bringing out the big guns (that way I could identify the areas where I think there could be problems instead of running a metal detector over the whole damn ocean seaboard). I was about to do just that when the window caught my eye again. It felt uncharacteristic of me to be so occupied with this window, but I detoured to the front porch and peeked inside anyway.
Most of the furniture had already been moved out, meaning all that was left was a single three-seater couch, a couple candlesticks on the fireplace mantle, a pristine chandelier overtop a dining room table, and the kitchenware: an oven, gas stovetop, marble countertops, and an island. I could see into the living room very clearly with the afternoon light, but the dining room was dim enough that there were a few structures I couldn't quite make out in the distance. One of them appeared to be some kind of china cabinet or bookshelf—I figured it was the former considering where it was located. The other shadow looked kind of like a grandfather clock. Or at least that's what I thought until it moved.
When I say it "moved", I don't mean to say that it picked up and walked away. If you're not familiar with the Necker Cube, I suggest you search it up, because that kind of illusion is the best way to describe what I saw. At first I was seeing the grandfather clock in a certain way—pushed into the corner of the room—and the next second my vision "corrected" and it was maybe five feet to the left of its former position. I shook my head and looked again and saw the grandfather clock in its second orientation, standing in the center of the room against the wall. I figured I was just seeing things, but even so I spent a little extra time dawdling around the Egress window, taking notes, and delaying the interior inspection.
When I finally grew a pair and went inside, I walked straight to the dining room. Sure enough, the grandfather clock was stowed away in the corner of the room. I spent a couple minutes watching it with my pencil and travel notebook out. I'm the kind of guy that likes to collect hard data when the chips are down. Unfortunately, the clock apparently already had enough fun and was content with sweating me. Oh, well.
I fitted my pencil behind my ear and pocketed my travel notebook, then flipped the rest of the first floor lights on and completed my prelim. I concluded that everything was pretty standard. If anything, the house was in better shape than I'd expect considering it presumably hasn't been lived in for a couple years. I say "presumably" because one can never count out squatters, even during those times. Mainly I was expecting more dust build up and cobwebs than there were. Perhaps someone from the department had come by recently. It's unlikely, but possible.
I did the same check upstairs and it came back mostly clean. There was a bit of staining near the attic I wanted to check for mold. Based on its color, it was probably just a minor case of Aspergillus, but better safe than sorry. Then I got to the basement, and, well, let's just count out the idea of anyone dropping by. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what I found.
The first thing that caught my eye was the long, slender body of a birch tree lying pale and dead across a large portion of the even larger unfinished basement's cement flooring. I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but, yep, there it was. Its crown was sealed up in the wall with only its trunk hanging out, which made me think of those medieval pillory devices which locked up people's heads and arms. Then confetti-scattered around the tree and all over the basement floor was a minefield of broken glass and ceramic tangled up with a set of random objects. And when I say random, I mean random. There was an unfurled Somali flag (the blue one with a single star in the center), some packaged drinks and condiments branded with all sorts of different languages (I could only make out Gaelic and Chinese or Japanese, I couldn't quite tell), a broken dome-shaped security camera, an otoscope (the thing the doc uses to check your ears), Hot Wheels cars (okay that one isn't so strange), and the list goes on.
At that moment, I wasn't freaked out or disgusted. I was more or less just confused. I started walking through the rubble, trying to avoid the sharp fragments but pretty confident that my steel toed boots would crush most the pieces anyway, when I heard a clink just up ahead. I was able to spot the coin in time, just before it jingled to a halt atop an old Life magazine. I picked it up and noted right away its oval shape and bronze color—clearly not American made. I tried reading it, but not only was the language not English, it appeared to be so old that most of the lettering had been filed down. I looked up at the ceiling to see if it dropped from a shelf, but there was nothing that could have been holding the coin. I considered for a moment, looking around at the other junk, and had the crazy idea that maybe all this stuff just appeared here. I popped the coin in my pocket and headed back to the van when I stopped by the tree and realized something. It wasn't a birch tree—it was a palm tree. I just didn't realize because of how ashy and decayed the bark was.
Now at this point you might think I've been acting a little nonchalant for such a strange occurrence, and I don't blame you, but if you're gonna stick around with me that's just something you're gonna have to get used to. I guess I was just born with a screw loose, but I really don't scare easily, and I tend to look at everything pragmatically. If you dig deep enough, you'll always find another plausible explanation. That being said, I do want to get to the part about Area X, so let me give you the rundown on what I learned about this basement.
I ended up trekking back to the van and picking up my gear. I was no longer running the routine inspection, obviously, but I figured I might as well throw 30 thousand dollars of scanning equipment at whatever the fuck anamoly existed in that basement. Most of it came back negative. There was a bit higher-than-usual EM interference as picked up on the voltmeters, but nothing that screamed danger close. Still, it was enough for me to set up my volt testers and IR camera while muddling through the rest of the junk. I won't bore you with another list of items, but I did find one thing of value: a diamond necklace. And not just any diamond necklace, it was one of those Queen-wearing, multi-row, big-jeweled necklaces like out of some Historical Fiction movie from the thirties. I almost didn't pocket it because I'm used to expensive items being owned by someone… someone who might want it back. But I figured if there was ever a place the finder's keeper's rule applied, it was probably in this Quantum graveyard.
7 O'clock rolled around and I hadn't eaten. I'm a pretty bulky guy, carrying my share of both muscle and fat, and most people think that means I need to eat a ton but that's really not the case. Mostly I just get dehydrated easily, especially in the summer. That said, I was bordering on famished territory and considered heading out for a bite when I heard another sound. The first thing I did was check my scanners, and sure enough the voltage needle was fully spun to the right side of the dial. EM interference. Then I went to see what had dropped. I was able to pick the object out pretty quickly since I had spent the last 6 hours staring at the mosaic of a basement floor. It was a silver briefcase, like one of those out of a crime novel, and it was cracked open.
I had this sense then that I was standing at a precipice, and if I opened the briefcase and looked inside, I wouldn't be able to stop whatever would come afterwards. Part of me deep down knew that I was just that type of guy that had to know, and maybe this was my Hamlet moment where it would be a trait gone a step too far. But then again I didn't really believe in any of that sentimental bullshit, so I opened the briefcase.
The gun surprised me a little, but not as much as the piece of paper laid atop a case file reading in large black font, "FIND ME". I expected the envelope to have some missing person file in it, but instead there were all these schematics and blueprints for some kind of device. Whatever it was, it was pretty massive. Some of the lengths were hundreds of meters long. And what's more strange is based on the blueprint's locale, it appeared to be underground. I looked back through the pages a couple times, then checked the note—nothing strange there. The gun appeared to be a simple glock. I was no gun expert, but I had been to the range pretty regularly with my construction buddies, so I got used to the feel of a pistol and rifle and some of the different names; however, I realized pretty quickly it wasn't your standard glock when I couldn't find mag-release. That's when I noticed how light the gun felt. I tried to chamber a round, but again, there was no hammer. What the hell kind of gun was this?
I ended up throwing everything back in the briefcase, including the necklace, coin, and a few Koozies I found that were branded with one of my favorite sports teams (never let an opportunity go to waste). I put up all my shit back in the van and spun over to a local burger joint, got my fill, and went home. I made sure to draft an email to the prospective buyers, telling them the house had several patches of black mold and a bit of a rat problem before drifting off to sleep. Although I really didn't do much of that.
When I woke up, I took a cold shower and downed a can of Reign, then commuted to my gym and got a lift and some sauna time in before making the trip back to the house. I brought some extra supplies with me for some experiments I cooked up while not sleeping the previous night.
First, I had two camcorders set up on a couple tripods in either corner of the basement. I wanted clear footage of these mystery objects spawning in. Then I set up a voltmeter in a similar fashion, but I had a wire extending out of it on a circuit which fed to an alarm that would blare when the reading was over 250 volts. Upstairs, I rearranged some of the furniture so that the small number of tables, chairs, clock, cabinets, and other little pillows or vases I could find were scattered across the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then I pulled up a lawn chair to the front porch window and waited.
I didn't have to wait long though. In about a minute, I started to notice some of the objects moving. It was strange. When a few of them would shift simultaneously, it was like looking at a holographic card that would change shape depending on where your eyes were in relation to the image. Every time I saw a shift, I felt an awkward feeling in my eyes. They went blurry for a fraction of a second, then there was a twinge of pain, as if my brain couldn't handle the contradictory stimulus. It didn't get more crazy than that though—until the alarm went off.
I had cracked open the small rectangular window in the basement to the side of the house so I would hear it. It took four hours and several strange stares from passersby walking their dogs before it rang, so I was a bit lost in my thoughts, but when I heard the beep I perked up fast. It lasted for maybe 5 seconds total, but what I saw was truly miraculous. The best way I can describe it is a pool of silver or gray or translucent light emerging in the foreground between me and the objects in the different rooms. A series of twisting tentacles sprouted from the gray octopus-like head and spun in a way that reminded me of that little kids ride at the amusement parks. Then the objects started to "heat up" is the way I describe it. Their position became relative, meaning they were here one second, there another, then they popped out of existence entirely. Suddenly the rooms were all empty, then they were full of things I had never seen before. Then five seconds passed and the octopus vanished and it was back to the same old objects in their usual places.
It took a few minutes to process what I saw, and even then I wasn't sure I really saw it. I went inside and looked around at my distribution of the house's furnishings. They were all there, intact. Then I went downstairs to check the cams. I rewinded a couple minutes and played it back, but there was no flying object to be found. Instead, there was some gray static that lasted half a second and then the object, a kid's treasure chest toy, was there on the ground. But you want to know the really strange part? I rewinded the tape again, and when I watched the footage back, the treasure chest was always there.
I later came to understand that these poppings in-and-out of our reality are only conceivable to a conscious mind that can track the interference patterns—not rote computational instruments. In fact, even most people can't do it (although everyone has at least a slight awareness of it, even if only subconsciously). Plus, locations like the basement of this house are very rare and kept under tight lock. That became obvious to me two days later when, after my normal morning routine, I pulled up to a driveway and curbside filled with unmarked government vehicles. Either bravely or stupidly, I pulled up to a few officers (they were wearing suits in 85 degree weather, so I assumed…) who were idling by the large fence of crime scene tape and asked them what the score was.
"There was a crime," said the short man with a unibrow.
"Oh, is that right? Damn shame. Someone break in? I have a niece who lives nearby, so…"
The man looked at his two compatriots, both of whom were wearing sunglasses and a "get this civilian fuck out of here" expressions. "Oh, yeah," he started in a reassuring tone that was so condescending it would have annoyed anyone except me, "we found a body. We think it was a homicide. Best to keep your kids away from here for a while."
I thumbed the stubble on my chin, my other hand outstretched on the wheel, and considered moving on, but my mouth had other ideas. "That right? But uh, isn't this house vacant? I mean, I don't remember no one living in it."
The short man, now tall with temper, said, "Yeah, some squatters. We think there was a dispute over some drug money. Nothing for you to worry about though, we got it under control. Now if you wouldn't mind moving along, we have a lot of work to do."
Oh, I'm sure you do, I thought, but only said, "Of course, sir, sorry for keeping you from your job." Then I rolled up the window and cruised on, keeping my eyes on the house which slowly diminished in the side-view mirror.
Luckily I had been smart enough to break down my camp and lug home all my equipment each night, so I didn't leave anything incriminating. I didn't move the furniture back, so maybe that would come back to haunt me, but considering the kind of shit going down in that house, I didn't think they would notice.
For any of you wondering about the conclusion of the house story, I went back a couple weeks later after the suits had left and the tape was taken down and confirmed that not only was the basement entirely cleaned out, but it was no longer exhibiting any strange properties. I looked for a story related to the house, maybe a made up murder of some kind, but there was nothing. That bastard lied to me and didn't even bother to cover his story up.
Now, in the aftermath of an event such as this, I really only had one of two options. I could forget it, move on, continue living life. The necklace was surely worth a fortune. I could sell it and have enough to retire, or at least hire enough people and expand my business large enough to retire within ten or so years. Or I could take all that money and invest it in my own PI business with only a single objective: finding out what those people knew, and why they were hiding it.
I think you know me well enough by now to guess which line of reasoning appealed more to me.
***
For the sake of brevity, I'm going to omit most of my encounters along the journey to discovering Area X. There's a lot to tell, and if it appeals to you perhaps I'd be willing to share at a later date, but for now I want to get this part of the story, the more proximal part, out in the open.
Three years ago, I discovered the source of what I'll call "The Receiver". This is the device that was schematized in the documents that I found in the briefcase. What it does is a complex answer, and how it does it is pretty much all speculation, but here's what I've been able to find out: this universe we live in is a node in a network of many other spaces. These spaces exist in higher dimensions that we cannot directly perceive, but using a conceivable analogy, just think about a flower with petals. The petals are these other dimensions which bleed into our world, which is at the center. However, it's not that pretty. We see the physical world through the lens of spacetime: sizes, speeds, etc. These other dimensions don't necessarily have space or time. In fact, what actually exists there, I couldn't say. The only data I have on them is from two sources: correspondence information and server data from the secret agency (which I'll call "the Organization") that keeps this under wraps, and first-hand experience with realms from these other entities, either directly (I experience it) or through the eyes of someone else with the same or greater abilities than I possess.
I referred to these people with abilities earlier as "Antennas", and I will continue to use the term. Antennas really come in three flavors, marked by the strength of their ability: weak Antennas, like me, are able to observe spontaneous interactions between our universe and other dimensions (phase shifts) when there is a strong force of collision like existed in the basement; moderate Antennas may see phase shifts occur at any point, and they usually are able to retain memories from across the different transformations; strong Antennas, and I don't know if they exist yet, but they are able to consciously interact with these other realms and cause phase shifts to occur.
I mentioned that moderate Antennas are able to retain memories from before and after a phase shift. Technically, all Antennas have this ability, but it's about degree. I can recall only very specific instances and without much detail. Moderates are usually able to pick out much more nuanced minutiae. At the lower end of moderate scale, most of those details fade or get fuzzy over time, but for the very strong Antennas, they hold onto almost everything. One other property that scales with strength is interaction with other conscious entities. Only a small percentage of moderates are able to do this. What's interesting is that these entities can possess (yes, like ghosts) people who aren't even antennas, but no one is aware of such possession at this deep of a level. I have several companions now, and only two have had interactions with these otherworldly beings. Not all of them are malevolent, some of them are whimsical or kind, but there are a fair share of demons out there.
Getting back to the point, Area X started as a government funded project in the 70's. At that time, they were focused on a few subjects: Artificial Intelligence, DNA sequencing, and psychedelics. Yes, they were part of the infamous LSD experiments. But they looked at these subjects through a common lens—there was something that the burgeoning tech industry, fueled by the advent of a commercial computer market, was missing. As the tech giants rose in the early 2000's and began to collect mass amounts of data, this other agency was decades ahead in a different metric, although it was completely (and still is) hidden from the public. Their efforts to understand psychedelic experiences led to a formalized method of understanding interactions between multiple realities. They built certain scanning equipment to detect anomalies like the one I found in the basement; although their tools were much more sophisticated and didn't utilize voltage readings. Then they ran tests in these areas. One area in particular is a hot-bed of phase shift interactions. That's where Area X is located (and the Receiver).
The Receiver is a giant electromagnetic orb that has trapped the kind of multi-dimensional energy that causes the phase shifts; since the Organization seized control of the lab, it's effectively become a map of the Earth in relation to these other worlds. For the past twenty or so years, the Organization has been studying this map, using the data big Tech companies have collected to essentially develop a Rosetta Stone for interpreting the meaning of the fluctuations in their scanning equipment. Recently, the public, though going the long way round, was actually pretty close to a breakthrough in this same department until recently when ultra-powerful LLMs surfaced, and the whole world began going down what I'd argue is the wrong rabbit hole of language processing. But I digress.
Area X is essentially a private military base built for defending the most impactful piece of technology ever invented. With the Receiver, the Organization now has the power to essentially predict any and all future outcomes, the only thing holding them back is the limitations of their own scanning equipment which will get better with time. To put it into perspective, the Organization has access to a kind of data allocation tool which in one day can produce over ten thousand times that the Big Data companies combined would be able to filter through in the next decade. You might think, then, that the problem is merely asymmetric power, and that is certainly a concern, but it isn't the main concern. The main issue is that this organization is actively recruiting (and kidnapping) Antennas from around the world in an effort to find or make one of them into a strong Antenna. In other words, they want a subject who is able not only to see the future, but to manipulate it at will.
balance to the world. I've been working on amassing resources, capital, and building my own team, and now I'm ready. You might ask why I'm posting this here. Wouldn't it be better to keep all this secret? Well, yes, it would be. But that's the problem. Nothing is secret anymore. They know about me and the others, and if I don't make a move, they will. In a way, this is a letter directly to the organization that I know, and I'm coming.
In a different way, I wanted to release this information to the public. There are lots of people out there waking up and realizing that the world they experience is not the one others experience. If you think you might be an Antenna, don't be afraid—you have a special gift that can be controlled. If you want more details on how to control it, or if you're interested in my mission, don't be afraid to reach out. This hasn't always been my life's work, but it is now.
At least until I die.