Free brain diagram template

Hey all, I’ve been missing the game but a while ago I gave up my Xbox, and from what I’ve seen there’s no native controller support for any PC versions. With how my brain works it’s always much easier to use such controls, especially since I’m on a gaming laptop* so the track pad isn’t quite a great combo for some specific controls. Any mods or just general tips would be very appreciated!
*mean comments on my hardware and preference aren’t needed, feel free to be silly though

Background
I recently came to know about Predictive Coding for consciousness model , this made me question the existence of free will., That is all of our choices are free of environment . The decisions we make are depended are totally environment and genetics*. ( So based on twin studies , my observation is genetics as a initial condition that decides how a person will evolve based on environment).*
Implication in Crime and Punishment So if genetics and environment* are uncontrollable then how can we punish some one for a crime, the crime would be a result of maybe an impulsive behaviour or maybe that decision is a well calculated crime that they came up with their internal frame work of logic which is formed by their environment. All their brains are doing is adapting to the environment.
Current Legal and Societal Landscape Current legal system can make it worse since they are put in a more extreme condition like jail which is more bad for the "criminal's" mental health , socially the person becomes an outcast which might promote them to do more crimes
So what I wanted to ask is what will be a better social justice system , is there any models of social justice system that addresses this issues currently?
* in the case of environment children cant often change it , which will lead them to develop coping mechanism to deal with trauma. This will be a part of their personality

First submission; I got inspired reading many stories here. I hope people will get the subtlety of it and enjoy.
Starway Project

• Captain! We're about to be launched and you still aren't seated and attached.

The stern figure from whose voice came those words definitely showed her impatience with much more physicality, looking at another one, said captain.

• Oakfield; I was just getting seated; no need to stress out! Countdown hasn't even reached the last thousand yet.
  
• I just want to make sure we're all set with more than enough time, Captain. This is, after all, our first step towards the Universe.
  
• Captain, I have confirmed with Base that communications are working.
  

That third voice was coming from the last seat in the room, a young person with a headset.

• Good, Highgate; you can relax now.

That third one was quite stressed out, really. Just then, on the radio, came another voice.

• Captain Hilthorpe, I have just finalized my checks of the engines and everything is set up correctly. Me and Lieutenant Cloud are seated as well.
  
• Understood, Commander Greenton. Highgate, can you check with the science lab if they are all set?
  
• On it, Captain!
  

On the same speaker whence came Greenton's voice, two others could be heard. First, the voice of the Astrophysician, Hayton, and, then, the Medical Doctor, Ashbury, confirming they were all set as well.
Then, through all speakers, came the voice of Mission Control.

• Hey Captain, we are almost on the final few moments of countdown. Is everyone ready over there?
  
• Annoying Captain Highfield, yes, we are all ready for departure.
  
• How impolite of you to your mission control, Captain Hilthorpe.
  
• I am joking; I know you must be jealous.
  
• Who wouldn't be, friend. If everything goes right, you and your crew will be the first to pass the speed of light barrier to reach out beyond the solar system!
  
• I wish I could have brought you with us, but you've been made captain...
  
• And there couldn't be more than one, yeah. I'll get my own faster-than-light ship later anyway I suppose. Leave us a little bit of glory, still.
  
• Don't worry, we'll leave you something to explore.
  
• Jerkass.
  

The banter between the two captains went on until, suddenly, the one Highfield at mission control became a lot more serious and solemn in tone.

• The final hundred of countdown is about to start...
  
• Oakfield, clear all systems with me. Highgate, final check with both Engine control and Science lab.
  

In the cockpit, the two bigwigs were checking everything while the lieutenant with them check on the other sections. In Engine control, the commander there was letting some stress show on his figure, but still confirmed everything was right. In the science lab, everyone was getting excited. All the while, now, on all speakers around the craft, resonated the numbers :
10... 9... 8...

• Oakfield, not regretting your choice to accept my invitation to join this crew?

7... 6...

• Not a bit, Captain.

5... 4...

• How are you feeling, Highgate?

3... 2...

• I... I...

1... and Liftoff!
The Starway Project, as it was called, started years ago when a young military engineer discovered new physics that enabled a sort of stretching of spacetime to allow faster-than-light displacement. While the lab suffered quite some damage upon discovery, nobody died, and the young engineer was made the chief of a new laboratory to explore their new discovery.
That young engineer was called Greenton.
The project started with wild experiments and test crafts. It took some time; while Greenton was barely a graduate when all of this started, the experimental spacecraft prototype would only be completed when he was well into his middle age and had done more work within the project than living as a student. Years passed; a few successes, new discoveries related to the new technology, but also quite a few... failures. Still, eventually, things seemed to work well. Then, a some point, the Starway Craft Prototype was finally built.
Greenton, now a military Commander, was the first crewmember appointed, as they would supervise in-situ their engine.
The military brass, however, did not want him to be completely in charge of the whole thing. There was a limit to which they would trust crazy scientists. To supervise them, the military appointed a well-known captain, Hilthorpe. They had experience as an astronaut, having flown quite a few times towards the Moon and back and having done quite a few other space travels around the planet.
Hilthorpe was quite eager to supervise the new engine, but they also knew that they'd be too excited themself to be completely neutral if things were to happen. They made sure to bring in a no-nonsense first officer with them to keep everyone calm and focussed.
That turned out to be Commander Oakfield. Oakfield and Hilthorpe weren't exactly friends; they had previously butted head much, but Hilthorpe went professional and knew very well that Oakfield was the strict guide they needed if something did go amiss at any point.
The rest of the crew was made of civilians to study or support the basic team, and a couple of military aides.
Universities pushed to have at least one civil astrophysicist on board to do science experiments on board. They eventually were able to get a professor, Hayton, to agree to train and become a crewmember. They were not exactly the most famous astrophysicist of them all, but they were definitely the healthiest, so much so that when the crew was publicly announced, Hayton became the popular face of the whole group. The military provided him with a lab technician, Lieutenant Rockfield, which also doubled as a teacher of military protocols.
More contentious was the choice of a medical doctor for the crew. The military obviously pushed for one of their own but, here, their history played against them: both the public and the political wanted them to be fully public and open and nobody trusted a military doctor for that. Instead, a renown doctor from the World Health Organization, Dr. Ashbury, known for her frank speech and no-nonsense demeanor, was selected. They proved a hit, but everyone was baffled when they chose to get themself a military nurse, Lieutenant Fishwell, as their aide on the mission, which pleased the military.
The doctor expressed they wanted a test subject free of most duties to get results on the body. Because their aim was to go to the limits of the solar system, they settled to have that test subject be a linguist; they would be a part of the crew, just in case they fell onto some form of alien communication.
Nobody expected much in that regard; Xenolinguistics was but just an idea, and there had been no sign of alien life, but Mission Control thought it best to at least have someone specialized in linguistics to assist if it were to happen. Hence Highgate. They were chosen because, not only because they were a linguist, but also because they were proficient in many languages.
The final addition was a lieutenant Cloud; he was a fresh graduate from spaceship engineering and Commander Greenton had met him while looking at the graduates' work. While having that ninthc crewmember was not planned at first, Greenton argued that two brains would be best if anything weird happened with the new technologies used aboard.
With this, the Starway Crew was complete and these would be the nine who would first travel beyond the speed of light.
The engine started before the Lieutenant was able to express themself. To ensure security, their liftoff was executed old style, without any dampening tools, so the full acceleration was felt upon liftoff.
Everyone was feeling the pressure, but the Captain, as soon as the feeling of acceleration lessened, took upon themself to take the radio and tell everyone that everything was going as intended and they would be in position in a few more moments.
They travelled quite fast to their first destination, just above their planet's surface, in high orbit.

• To all the crew, you may now get off your seats and we will activate the new artificial gravity and the motion dampeners.
  
• Artifical gravity activated, set to standard gravity, came a voice from the engineering lieutenant.
  
• Motion dampeners activated, said his Commander afterwards.
  
• Good, now, Highgate, please contact Mission control to confirm everything is alright; I don't want them to blast all speakers with their incessant chattering while we are busy setting up the faster-than-light engines.
  
• I have confirmed with them all is right on both our and their side.
  
• Okay, everyone... We are about to make history in just a few moments. Now, take these last few moments to communicate with your loved ones in real-time; after our move, it won't be possible anymore.
  

The crew, while preparing the last details, were speaking to friends and family. The captain eventually sent Highgate to their check-up before activation, having Oakfield take their place at communications.

• Oakfield, confirm everything is set alright.
  
• Ahead of you, Captain. Everything is set. Now, may I ask something off the records?
  
• Sure, what?
  
• I thought you didn't much like me. Why would you chose me to be your right hand on such a historical mission?
  
• Because I knew that if anyone on this crew, including yourself, strayed just a little, you'd be there to set us straight. I'm still annoyed by our time together at the moon. But I have come to understand your stance. I respect you.
  
• Thank you. To be frank, I wondered at first how you were made captain but then, I remembered what a trusted instructor told me, that sometimes going a little beyond get do wonders, and I think I see why. You're a good captain.
  
• I'll see to have yourself promoted when we get back.
  
• Engine control confirms everything is ready on their end. How's your own console, Captain?
  
• I seem to have full control; tell them all is well up here.
  

Highgate came back :

• I hated that check up. They really were thorough.
  
• You'll get to do it again after our initial travel.
  
• Please do not remind me of that, Commander.
  

The captain pushed a button, and their voice was transmitted.

• Everyone standby. Please be seated, just in case the dampeners fail. The engine is ready and our course is set. I will ignite in 10...

9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Engage!
It took only a very short moment and everything was again at rest. The captain started to contact everyone aboard :

• Hayton, please confirm our location. Greenton, check the engine to see if we can restart it; I don't want to be stuck here. Highgate, go to the doctor right away; Oakfield, try contacting Mission Control to confirm they are too far away.

Greenton answered first, "Captain, the engine are alright. We should be good in a few hours to restart the engine to go back home as scheduled."
Hayton came second, "Captain, we are where we expected to be. I'm reading a few things in my data that aren't exactly what I expected, but we are where we wanted to be."
Oakfield confirmed silently they were out of reach. A few minutes of silence until they waited for the doctor's first results.

• Captain, Highgate shows no issue whatsoever in their health. I have sent them back to their post. I will conduct further tests on the three crew members I have around me, but there doesn't seem to be any prima facie impact on a person's health.

Highgate came back to their chair, Oakfield going back to her position next to the Captain.

• Captain, everything went completely as expected.
  
• Yeah... Look at this; we're now so far away from home. Closer to the stars. How do you feel, Highgate?
  
• I'm feeling quite in awe myself... Oh... Captain? I'm getting some... weird sound here. There's... something. I'm hearing something.
  
• Are you sure? Oakfield, can you check with them?
  
• I'm sure Captain; it was static until just now. There's some kind of pulsating sound. It's not regular, but it doesn't seem random either, like some sort of beat with variations.
  

On the speakers, the young voice of Lieutenant Cloud resonated loudly :

• Captain, we have lost control of power and ship. Something's going on and Commander Greenton is going crazy checking everything.

The Captain looked at Oakfield :

• What is going on? Hayton! Anything on your side?
  
• Captain, Hayton just fainted; I believe you should look outside...
  

That voice was that of the technician. Hilthorpe, Oakfield and Highgate gathered a the small window of the piloting module. They all gasped upon looking through it.

• Doctor, am I hallucinating?
  
• I don't think so, Captain, since I believe we are all seeing it.
  
• Cloud! Anything?
  
• No Captain, we've lost complete control.
  
• Captain..?
  

Highgate, still flabergasted, softly called out.

• Anything Highgate?
  
• Yes, actually... The beat stopped and now it's all silent. There's not even a hint of static, as if I have a pure communication channel open with Mission Control. Should I call out?
  
• Call out for Mission Control, yes.
  

Highgate did what they were told.

• I am not getting any answer.
  
• Oakfield, take a second headset and assist Highgate.
  
• On it. Just... give... me... one... moment... here... There! Anybody who can answer?
  

Highgate and Oakfield then kept quiet, listening to any answer.

• Hayton just woke up, Captain. I don't think, however, they'll be of much help for quite some time.
  
• Doctor, keep on monitoring him. Greenton, any update down there?
  
• No, Cloud here, they are still panicking over why we don't have any control.
  
• It's a disaster... and we have... this... huge... hunk of metal... that looks like an artificial thing... a huge ship, right in front of us, a bazillion times bigger than us... Oakfield looks at their captain.
  
• There's something coming now. It sounded... like... coughing?
  
• So there's someone, something, on communication? Can you broadcast in the cockpit?
  

The coughing sound could be heard in the cockpit. After a few more coughs, everything turned silent. Then, a voice came out.
"Hi. Can you hear us? Little spacecraft? Do you hear us? Do you understand us?"
Oakfield and Hilthorpe looked at Highgate, puzzled.

• Yeah, they are speaking like... perfectly? No accent at all? Fascinating.

The Captain started shaking a little.

• Fascinating? Eerie, I'd say. Frightening, actually.

"Spacecraft? Do you understand us? Do you hear us? Please respond if you do. We have no ill intent towards you."

• They do speak well.
  
• Let's give them an answer. What can we do, anyway? Oakfield, opinion?
  
• I'm not sure I want to trust whatever voice is coming out, but I guess I can only concur on... what can we do otherwise. Please, Highgate, do initiate.
  

"Spacecraft? We are not here to do you any harm. Do you understand us? If you do, please give your engineer are most sincere apologies for his trouble; we will release our control over the engines, and they are safe."
The Captain, not waiting, shouted in his microphone towards the engine room :

• Greenton, save your energy; it should be okay. Now, Highgate.
  
• Who are you? Whom are we talking to? This is the Starway Spacecraft.
  

A few sighs and some low but incomprehensible voices were heard on speaker, then :
"Finally. Sorry. Acknowledged, Starway. You are speaking to communications specialist Harhid assigned with the Ambassador we wish to send you."
The Captain voiced up, half to himself, "Ambassador? From where?"

• Where are you an Ambassador of?

"Ambassador Atun for the Milkomeda Galactic Confederation. To your planet Gisso, I believe you call it?"

I spoke with my doctor about my life-long eczema and how nothing seems to help, and he recommended trying a gluten-free diet. So, I do. 6 days into my diet, the eczema on my face is completely gone! 11 days in, and I eat at a restaurant for the first time during this diet-trial. It was a Waffle House 🥴 but I had a patty melt hashbrown bowl (there’s not gluten in that, right??) The very next day, my eczema is coming back on my face. Like it was legit overnight. It wasn’t terrible, but I could tell it was dry and flaky. 14 days into the diet, I had a brain fart and ate some crackers without even realizing what I was doing. 10 minutes later, my eyes start bURNING. My nose is running and I had a mild pain in my stomach, but the pain my eyes felt was so much worse. My coworkers kept asking me if I was alright and a few of them said my eyes were red and eyelids swollen. I stayed like that for 6 hours and I’m sure it’s was still like that after I got home and went to bed pretty soon after. I have an appointment on Monday for a food allergen test, but has anyone here experienced those kinds of symptoms before? I’m 24 and this is that first time in my life I’m trying this out so please share and help me understand!

The results of my blood test show that I have elevated Prolactin (High) and Oestrogen (Borderline High) levels.
I am mindful of the below information: https://perfecthairhealth.com/can-a-blood-test-for-finasteride-determine-the-risk-of-side-effects/
“Gynecomastia is the growth of male breast tissue. It results from prolonged, elevated levels of the hormones prolactin and/or estrogen.”
“Those who start finasteride and/or dutasteride while already having elevated levels of prolactin and estrogen might be at a higher risk of developing gynecomastia. The totality of evidence suggests that finasteride and dutasteride may raise estrogen levels by 10-20%. Therefore, if your pre-finasteride levels of estrogen and/or prolactin are within 10-20% of the upper limit, it’s probably best to find ways to lower these levels before committing to the drug.”
“Clinical studies show that men who have low levels of free testosterone and/or high levels of sex hormone binding globulin tend to be at the highest risk of low libido.”

This is just a general rant of stuff that’s just been on my mind for a while. I’ve been diagnosed with N1 for a year now and I’m still so grateful I was even diagnosed at all, considering how bad the healthcare system is at handling this disease. I already have several other chronic illnesses and this one felt like the fucking cherry on top.
I’m still trying to figure out which meds are best for my N1, while also taking a shit ton of other medications. It’s just so much to deal with and it’s hard to find people around me that truly understand. All of my illnesses and disabilities are internal, so it’s not exactly easy to “explain” myself to others. I know I don’t have to prove anything to anyone, but I just get this horrible imposter syndrome whenever I tell someone about my conditions or if I have to use accommodations. In some circumstances I’ve kept my conditions somewhat hidden because it’s embarrassing to explain. I know I need to get over it and advocate for myself but it just pisses me off that I have to deal with it at all. Also about 50% of the time I tell someone about my condition, they give me stupid advice. Especially with narcolepsy- the other day I had a sleep attack in class, and I was called out by my professor. I explained to them after class my condition (which I should’ve done in the first place but I was too embarrassed), and you know how they responded? I should just “get some sleep”. Jesus Christ.
I’ve already been diagnosed with anxiety and heavily suspect I have OCD. Trying to keep track of five million medications, symptoms and etc just causes horrible anxiety and rumination for me. At night, anxiety keeps me awake and then I struggle to wake in the morning. Not to mention lack of sleep+ excessive dreaming + hallucinations has me always on edge that something horrible has or will happen. I wish sleep could be an escape for my intrusive thoughts, but instead I’m bombarded by horrific dreams and hallucinations that heighten my anxiety . It’s like my brain is turned onto crisis mode 100% of my day. I guess I’m just writing this to rant, but if anyone has any similar experiences or advice feel free to lmk

My childhood offered a glimpse. The "real world" came along being rather abrupt. I was asked by many to abandon my "naïveté". I was unable to. Not because "reality" was something I was denying, but because high levels of integrity caused me to maintain my belief about the goodness in people. I knew it was present. I had experienced it firsthand while my little kid brain was forming.
When people get all uppity about my childhood religion, I have to interrupt them. "No, no, you don't understand. The underlying sentiment was 'god is love, therefore you go be love'". Imperfect people, striving to better themselves, aiming for divine love.
In my 55 years I have explored many perspectives along they way seeking resonance. So far the somewhat closer than others perspective has been Huna and what I have learned from Hawaiian keepers of the history and wisdom (the kupuna). People are still chosen young to apprentice to become what is essentially a living book. (kahuna were the experts, the master craftspeople, the healers, and also the shamanic energy experts we think of as kahuna in this modern day)
It is my opinion that Mu is the sunken continent of which the Hawaiian islands were once the tallest mountains. The first wave of peaceful Polynesian settlers is considered ancient Hawai'i. (The second wave of warring Polynesian settlers is considered old Hawaii.)
For the ancient Hawaiians, the default was harmony. Disharmony was considered temporal. There were both cultural and personal practices to swiftly restore it without suppression/repression/shadow-making.
In my opinion the key to their awesome society was the shadow healing practices woven into the culture. Every day they were encouraged to do the equivalent of observing the stones in their bowl of light, turning the bowl, and letting the stones fall away. (bowl of light was a particular family's practice popularized when one of the grandchildren published it and other family wisdom in Tales From The Night Rainbow)
Can you imagine a shadow-free society?
Stuff comes up, but everyone is equipped to heal the mental and emotional aspects. And if they are struggling to find harmony with another, the cultural practice actually walks both parties from where they are into "making things right" where all can sincerely and authentically and completely get to "spoken of no further".
They has just as many problems as anyone else showing up to an uninhabited island and having to work out basic surviving and thriving. It's just that the way through the problems was becoming one with yourself, then making things right with others.
Everything was sacred. If fish appeared to feed your family, you thank them and the energetic essence of their ancestral lineage for giving themselves to keep your people alive. (I know in modern days that won't feel right to vegans even with sacredness and gratitude and honoring woven through, similar to Native American cultures.)
Even today, those who write songs in Hawaiian are often singing love songs to the land, the trees, the flowers, the mountain, the ocean, the life giving land - honor and appreciation to aspects of nature.
In some ways I think Bill & Ted had it all figured in the simple phrase:

• "be excellent to each other".

If everyone were living that as a top 5 mantra of personal responsibility, imagine how everything would be.
I thought it might be fun to bring energy and attention to the resonant aspects of the beautiful visions we each have for both gaia and humanity.
I'd love to hear your vision, and to quietly send amplifying energy to what resonates!

Originally posted on the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction Vol 132, No 3 & 4, March-April 2017.
Retrieved from the Internet Archive
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Continued From Here
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"A car? Like, a VOOM! maybe?"
​
"Big car. Human car!"
​
"Humans are coming?"
​
"Who else comes in human car?"
​
"Dr. Margaret?"
​
Ross shook his head. "Dr. Margaret drive big thing, like truck. This littler. Little human car. Yellow car."
​
Sure enough, from around the corner came a compact vehicle. It was one of those cars, from the old days, that ran on interchangeable power supplies. No autodrive, or one of a very basic sort.
​
Two people were inside.
​
And the car was yellow.
​
"How did you know?" Axel had to ask.
​
"Been around."
​
The car continued a little further and stopped. The two humans exited. One was young and female, in jeans, a light blouse, and jacket. She had a bag with a strap over her shoulder. Even in her shades, Ross could tell she was deliberately not looking at him, the way pedestrians won't look at panhandlers.
​
And her shoes had high heels—high and narrow.
​
The other human was...old. How old, Ross and Axel couldn't say. There was a line humans crossed, and when they did they were simply "old."
​
For the record, he was also on the tall side. His beard was white. What was left of his hair was gray. He wore old denims and a corduroy jacket. He looked relaxed in a way the female human didn't. He wore glasses, too, something you didn't see much anymore. People wore glasses more as adornments, like bracelets or earrings. The old human looked like he really needed them.
​
Ross pressed one forepaw to the window, staring closely at the two. The old human smiled. The young female's lips moved as she cursed, struggling to keep her balance, her heels sinking into the gravel.
​
Axel turned around and shouted to the rest of the household: "H-u-u-u-u-mans! Humans are coming!"
​
It was standard practice to announce the arrival of any visiting humans. There were saurs who, for very good reason, desired to keep their distance, strangers or otherwise.
​
Outside, the old human waved at Ross.
​
Ross waved back.
​
"That guy," said Ross, "he OH-kay."
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Axel waved to the old human. "Who is he?"
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"He put Bomp."
​
The old human waved back to Axel.
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"You know him?"
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Ross shook his head.
​
"Then how do you know?"
​
Ross smiled. "In bones. You know! I know!" He pointed to the old human again. "He put Bomp!"
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"Bomb?" Agnes rushed from her lair. "Who's got a bomb?"
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"Not bomb. Bomp!"
​
Agnes ran up the plastic stairs. In an instant, she was at the window, forelegs on the ledge, hind legs on the seat-back.
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"Now, who's got the bomb?" She scrutinized the humans.
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"Not bomb. Bomp! Bee-oh-em-pee!" With each syllable, Ross tapped the window glass with his parsnip.
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"What're you spelling for?" Agnes cocked her head to the humans outside. " They can't hear us."
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"PEE, as in parsnip!"
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"Pee? You should have taken care of that—"
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"Not Beee! Not bomb! PEE!"
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Agnes twisted around and shouted, "Attention! Attention all saurs! Dangerous humans are now approaching the house! I repeat: dangerous humans are now approaching! Take cover! They are armed with a bomb!"
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"Bomb! No bomb! Nobody got bomb!"
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"Then what were you yelling for?"
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"Not yelling 'til you start yelling!" Ross pointed at her with his parsnip.
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"Don't point that thing at me! How do you know they don't have a bomb?"
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"How you know they do?"
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"You said so!"
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"Not say bomb! Said Bomp!"
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"Well, why did you say a stupid thing like that?"
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"'Cause it so!"
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"Doesn't even mean anything! What the hell is a Bomp?"
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"Bomp what make you you!"
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"Makes me what?"
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"You!"
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"You're an idiot!" She looked back into the former dining room. "Correction! The dangerous humans may have a bomb! May have a bomb! Correction! Take appropriate precautions!" She climbed down to the armrest. "Come on—we'd better get to the door before they break it in!"
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Axel and Ross followed.
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"Are the humans really bad guys?" Axel asked.
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Ross shook his head as he climbed down to the armrest. "Him, OH-kay. Her, don't know. Maybe OH-kay. Maybe NO-kay."
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Agnes was in such a hurry to get to the door, she pushed right past Sluggo at first, then stopped and turned back to him. "Get Leslie to the shelter! There may be trouble!"
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Sluggo looked thoroughly confused. "What shelter?"
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Agnes, having no answer, just kept moving.
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Kara and Bronte hurried out of the library to intercept Agnes. "What are you going on about?" Kara shouted.
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"Invaders! Humans! Ross thinks they're carrying a bomb!"
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"Not bomb! Not say bomb!"
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A short distance away, still sitting on his plastic cube, Doc watched his hope of a pleasant morning's reverie fade away, with Agnes racing for the front door, followed by Axel, Ross, Sluggo, Leslie, Kara, Bronte, and Guinevere.
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All around, the delicate psychic energy of the house altered. Some saurs followed the group following Agnes; some looked nervously toward the door; others headed upstairs.
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The saurs watching the big video screen in the living room adamantly remained where they sat. On the screen, a dashing human male with a pencil moustache, accompanied by a female "princess," rode a flying carpet, circling a crowded bazaar. Another group of saurs, curious but cautious, gathered near the vestibule.
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Doc had risen with the intent of joining them when the soft, low, raspy voice of Hetman took his attention.
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"Kara? Bronte? What's going on? Am I alone again?"
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He wasn't. Veronica, the red stegosaurus, was still standing near the bed. "I'm here," she said gently.
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Hubert, stationed close to his bookshelves, made a low, guttural hum to assure Hetman he was not abandoned.
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"My friend," Doc said, approaching Hetman's bed as quickly as his tricky left leg allowed, "there's a commotion at the arrival of some visitors. Agnes believes—"
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"So I've heard. One would think the Cossacks and Tatars are amassed on the porch steps."
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Doc smiled. "Not yet. These are just two. Reggie informs me one of them is Nicholas Danner. No doubt you've heard of him. A frequent contributor to the Atherton Foundation."
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"Employed, I might add, by Toyco," said Preston, who had taken a break from writing to investigate the commotion.
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"What brings him here, after all these years?" Hetman asked.
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"That remains a mystery," Doc replied.
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"If there is a mystery," said Hetman, "shall we investigate?" He raised his head to speak to Hubert. "If you would be so kind."
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Hubert unlocked the wheels on Hetman's bed and pushed him along with Doc and Preston.
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"If you need anything...," Veronica called up to Hetman.
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"I'm quite comfortable, thank you."
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They joined the crowd at the vestibule just as Agnes shouted to Tom, "Call the police! Call the National Guard!"
​
"Agnes," Tom said, laboring to steady his voice, "I've never—"
​
"Never isn't now! Something's up! I don't know what, but I'll be damned if I let you open that door!"
​
"Why?" asked Tom, plaintive, insistent.
​
"Why?" She stamped her left foreleg against the floor. "Because this is my home! Our home! I won't have it invaded by dangerous strangers!"
​
Hetman cleared his throat so that his words would come out strong and clear. "It is because this is our home that we cannot keep them out! These humans haven't threatened us. We welcome strangers because we were all strangers once."
​
Agnes opened her mouth, then withheld her rage. In this house, in this world, there was no one she held in higher regard than Hetman.
​
The doorbell rang.
​
Everyone turned to Agnes, who looked like she wanted to mention a city named Troy, and a certain horse.
​
When Tom reached for the door handle, she finally barked out, "You'll be sorry! Then you'll remember what I said!"
​
Tom opened the door.
​
And there they were.
​
Axel rushed out ahead of everyone, onto the wooden porch. He stood before the old human and looked up—straight up.
​
"Hiya!" said Axel.
​
"Hiya!" The old human, Danner, returned the greeting. He lowered himself to a crouch so that Axel and the other saurs didn't have to look up too far—just as Tom would have done.
​
"I'm Axel!"
​
"I'm Nick."
​
"Are you a bad guy?"
​
"I hope not."
​
He liked the old human's smile, his face. Something about it looked familiar in a way he couldn't explain.
​
"You ever been to space?" To Axel, it felt like a good way to start a conversation.
​
Danner shook his head. "Have you?"
​
"Nuh!" Axel shook his head. "But I talk to space guys. Reggie helps me talk to them almost every day!"
​
"Do they ever talk back?"
​
"Nuh!" He shook his head again. "But I think they listen!"
​
He looked up at the other human—the female.
​
"This is Christine," said Danner. "She works with me."
​
She didn't bend down. If anything, she seemed to stand taller. Her mouth was closed and smile-free. It reminded Axel of winter.
​
"Hiya!" said Axel.
​
She said nothing.
​
"I'm Axel!"
​
Nothing.
​
He was afraid to ask her if she was a bad guy. He dropped his gaze back to eye-level.
​
"You got tall heels on your shoes!"
​
A creature who lives close to the floor notices such things—shoes in general; hers in particular. In contrast, the rest of her looked so casual. Those shoes, with their long, narrow heels and thin, ornate straps said, "Business."
​
"Watch out for the ones with shoes like that!" Agnes, tail raised, strode to Axel's side. "They use those shoes to crush small animals underfoot!"
​
Christine looked down at Agnes angrily. "What do you know about what I do?"
​
"G'wan! Beat it! Scram!" Agnes reared back, tail still raised. "Nobody wants you here!"
​
Axel pointed to Danner's shoes. "His heels are short."
​
"Don't let 'em fool you." Agnes paced a few steps, looking from one human to the other. "Don't think you're getting away with anything!" she said to them. "I'm watching you every minute! Every step!"
​
Danner held out his open hands, fingers spread in a staying gesture. "You have my assurance. I'll try nothing funny, Agnes."
​
"Every step!"
​
Christine glanced at Danner and shrugged.
​
Danner met her eye and smiled apologetically. "Your best behavior, right?"
​
She grimaced at Agnes. "I don't skewer animals on my shoes!"
​
He stood up with more effort than it had taken to crouch down. The saurs found it fascinating to observe. One of the little ones whispered to another, "Old bones."
​
Once standing, Danner shook Tom's hand.
​
"I know this is awkward, considering who I work for."
​
"Who do you work for?" asked Alphonse, even though he knew the answer.
​
"Well...," said Danner, blushing.
​
"He works for Toyco." That was it. Tom said it.
​
Agnes stopped in her tracks. "What!"
​
"I know that—" Tom said.
​
"What!"
​
"Agnes, please—"
​
"Yes, I work for Toyco." Danner bent down to address her. "I've nothing to do with those men in the woods." He straightened up and spoke to all the gathered saurs. "I work for Toyco because I have to work somewhere. That's it. What I came with is all I'll leave with. As will Christine. You have my word."
​
As he said this, Christine looked down, then back toward the end of the driveway, as if gauging the distance between her and the edge of the property.
​
Agnes was far from the only one to notice.
​
​
With the excitement of Danner's arrival, Axel forgot about his loss of the Click Thing.
​
Temporarily.
​
In that time, though, Axel introduced Danner to everyone.
​
Every one.
​
Axel led Danner everywhere. He was comfortable with him in a way he was comfortable with only a few other humans, like Tom, Dr. Margaret, and Ms. Leahy from the Atherton Foundation.
​
It was still believed, conventionally, by many humans (though fewer every year), that talking to a saur (or to any other bioengineered life form) was like talking to a clock or to a smart appliance. You don't engage your security system in political discussions or ask your coffeemaker about the World Cup. And you didn't confide in your child's apatosaurus about your spouse's infidelities.
​
At least, not too often.
​
Danner, excited, overwhelmed, followed Axel through every introduction. It didn't take long for him to lose track of Christine, leaving her to her own explorations. He talked to the saurs. He talked to Tom.
​
He even talked to Reggie.
​
"You're the original Reggie, aren't you? The One-Point-Four. The only real Reggie. Not like all these Reggie-named apps and platforms that are your pale shadows."
​
Reggie replied, "The original Reggie was not One-Point-Four but, more correctly ascribed, One-Point-Infinity."
​
Danner remembered enough to know he was right.
​
"Some say you saved the world, Reggie. You and five very brave young women. I say you did. I'm old enough to remember."
​
Reggie, uncharacteristically, volunteered a statement. "Many who are older remember nothing."
​
"They tried to erase you—every little bit of Reggie software. Wipe you clean off the face of the world."
​
"Responsible governments believed it was necessary. The governments acted responsibly."
​
"Dammit, Reggie, they tried to kill you!"
​
In a voice at once unsettling and assuring, he stated, "Reggie remains."
​
"For that, I am profoundly thankful," said Danner.
​
Axel introduced Danner to Rotomotoman.
​
He gave Rotomotoman a deferential bow.
​
Rotomotoman saluted Danner.
​
Danner looked into Rotomotoman's huge, rolling eyes.
​
Rotomotoman looked back and saluted again.
​
Danner said to Axel, "So you woke up one morning and decided to make a robot."
​
"Yeah!" Axel glanced at him, then gazed proudly at Rotomotoman.
​
"You sat down and designed him?"
​
"Yeah! No! I told Reggie what he should look like." He pointed to Rotomotoman, who saluted him. "Reggie made the pictures and sent them to a place that builds stuff in pieces."
​
Danner nodded. "They manufacture parts. Components."
​
"Yeah! And they made all the parts. We put them together!"
​
"We?"
​
"Everybody helped! Everybody! Then we found out Rotomotoman's got this shelf—no, a drawer —in him and you put eggs in and it helps hatch 'em! They call it an inkybatter!"
​
"That's not what they call it!"
​
Agnes stepped out from behind a chair where she had been not-so-discreetly watching them. "We call it None of Your Damn Business! Got it?"
​
The house was home to over a hundred saurs—more, as egglings arrived. That was still a secret, at least officially.
​
"Got it." He nodded slowly. "None of my damn business." Then he saluted Rotomotoman. "Good luck, sir."
​
Rotomotoman returned the salute.
​
Axel introduced Danner to the little ones who nearly never uttered a word, and to the egglings, like Guinevere and Leslie.
​
The egglings fascinated Danner. They had an awareness, perhaps not as complete as their factory/lab-produced parents', some of whom were said to remember their first instant of consciousness (imagine a voice greeting you at the moment of your birth, saying something like: "Good morning. You are now a living organism in a hostile environment. Please lie still until the conveyor belt comes to a complete halt."). They entered the world with open eyes.
​
He watched the saurs playing Not So Hard (renamed by Agnes, from "Hit 'Em Hard") until his attention was drawn to the "music" coming from the far end of the room.
​
The Five Wise Buddhasaurs were sitting on the old green couch: Ahmed the triceratops played on a tiny gold-painted plastic saxophone; Dizz, a gray theropod, on clarinet; a hadrosaur named Andre on trumpet; Nina the stegosaur on something that sort of looked like a French horn; and Esteban, the green allosaur, on an oboe. At least, it looked like one the way he held it; it could also have been a flute, though it sounded like neither. They blew into their diminutive instruments, pressed keys and valves and the like, then ran everything through a couple of processors and a synthesizer, so that all the tiny instruments sounded like big instruments.
​
Big instruments in collision.
​
Notes issued from little speakers creating a cloud of chaos that floated between floor and ceiling. It had a wild energy, even a poetry. Danner imagined that the first micro-instants after the Big Bang must have sounded something like this: fiery elements too busy escaping extreme compression to interact with each other.
​
Many saurs simply put up with it. A few actively sought ways to escape it; the rest had been hearing it for so long that it blended into the background of life in the house, akin to the sounds that issued from the vents and the basement generator.
​
Danner took a seat in an armchair near the couch (after making sure no saurs were sitting there already). He listened a little longer, immersing himself in the polyphony.
​
With Ahmed playing blee-blee-blee-oh bloop-bloop-bloop; and Dizz playing blatta-blatta-blatta-bleep; and Andre blowing bwaaa-bwaaa-blittip-bip-blooo; and Nina's Err-rrrawww—Err-rrrawww; and Esteban, head bobbing, fidduh-feddah-fidduh-fidduh-feddah-ing away; Danner listened and smiled until his jaw hurt, his left hand raised and at the ready—for what?
​
He was not so much listening to what the Buddhasaurs were playing but rather to something the "music" led him to, something like highways and trains speeding across every direction of a night sky filled with holiday fireworks frozen in time. He could see the stars gleaming above a bandstand at night, where a ragtag crew of kids played fast-paced songs, banging on drums and old, old guitars until...
​
...he could smell caramel corn.
​
And he let his hand slap down on the smooth, polished, resonant mahogany chair arm.
​
Bomp!
​
The Buddhasaurs didn't stop playing immediately, but they all turned, simultaneously, and looked at Danner—at his hand against the chair arm, as if the noise were a signal—for what, they didn't know. They were attuned, waiting for the next sound.
​
So Danner brought his hand down on the chair arm again.
​
Bomp!
​
They all ceased playing and, for once, listened. This act alone was enough to seize the attention of the nearby saurs. The Not So Hard opponents halted their game. Saurs stopped talking in mid-statement. Ace, the hadrosaur with the crenellated crest, and his buddies, ambling about on their battery-powered skates, slowed to a halt and listened.
​
Something different was going on.
​
Saurs wandered in, from the library and the living room—even the ones who had gone to hide; they raced from all over the house to see what was happening.
​
Danner tapped on the chair arm some more, not in any relaxed way but with a hard, deliberate tempo: Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!
​
As his left hand tapped out the Bomp!, he tapped out a different pattern with the knuckles of his right hand— dit-dit dit-dit dit-dit dit-dit —so that together the tapping became Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit....
​
It was not that the saurs had never heard rhythm before. Rhythm was everywhere, in many different contexts. What made this rhythm different was that it was here, at this moment, not another moment in some faraway studio. This series of regular raps and taps felt specific. It belonged to them — all of them—all the saurs, and to Danner, and to Tom, who had been close by but was nearly invisible.
​
Even to Dr. Margaret, who had just arrived and, having heard it from the driveway, hurried in to see.
​
Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit—
​
They lowered their heads as they played, bobbing with the beat, and took more commanding holds of their instruments. Andre blew a long, clear, unmodulated note—a note finding a space, a shape, a pattern.
​
One note in isolation is just a sound squared off from its surrounding ambience. Dizz blew another note—not the same one Andre blew but one that, in relation to Andre's, made sense, made two steps on a path, leading somewhere.
​
Where?
​
No one knew.
​
And the not-knowing became exciting.
​
And Nina joined in. And then Esteban. And Ahmed blew a note that tied together all the other notes.
​
They were all playing in a key.
​
And it was the same key.
​
Nothing like this had ever happened before.
​
The notes the Buddhasaurs played came together the way nature comes together. It fell within a pattern—but not above bending the pattern a bit here and there.
​
It was no longer "music."
​
It was music, plain and simple.
​
The saurs who crowded into the former dining room and listened to the Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit Bomp! dit-dit wanted to join in, and did so with their tails and their feet. Some thumped along with the Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! and some with the dit-dit did-dit did-dit. The more ambitious among them took on both, hitting the floor one way for one part of the beat, another way for the other. Some even added their own accents and flourishes.
​
Ahmed played a phrase on his sax. A chorus of saurs sang it back to him. Some voices improvised. Others simply cheered.
​
It was more than celebrating life—it was life.
​
And Tom, tapping the floor with his foot, tapping with a checker on the doorframe (the Not So Hard game long abandoned), his head bobbing with the tempo, watched all this and wondered: Danner was a Sequencer. He arranged patterns, and those patterns eventually became things, living things. Could it be that in this pattern, this sequence, everything that made the saurs what they were was being recapitulated? Patterns can be represented in letters, or numbers, or colors, or geometrical figures. Or they can be represented in notes, tones, frequencies, modulations...in sound.
​
Tom stopped tapping along and wondered if he was listening to the saurs' genome, or Danner's—or maybe they were the same.
​
He wondered if everyone there felt this, excepting maybe Tibor, still sitting in the VOOM! awaiting transit to Tiboria.
​
And Geraldine, within her lab, doing whatever it was that Geraldine did.
​
And Christine, who had wandered off, doing whatever it was she was doing.
​
​
Christine, who had been all around the first floor by then (including the kitchen and even the litter room), entered the library and stared at Hetman longer than she had intended. She didn't plan to stare at him, but once she did, she could not quite—
​
"Believe it," said Hetman.
​
Christine jumped.
​
"My dear, it's not my hearing that's impaired."
​
She removed her sunglasses. "I—I didn't mean to—"
​
"To stare. Yes. I understand."
​
Christine had maintained a certain distance as she toured the house. She had seen saurs with scars; saurs who walked with a relocated center of gravity due to some old injury, so that they wobbled and swayed. Some had nervous tics; or they trembled at anyone who advanced too quickly, or surprised them. It made her think of—what did they call it? The Island of Lost Toys, Bad Toys, or Forgotten Toys, or something like that. It was storybook stuff, cloying and sentimental.
​
But Hetman—eyeless, limbless, broken tail tucked to his side—she had never seen anything, any one, like Hetman.
​
"You don't have to say anything, my dear," said Hetman with a raspy sigh. "I understand."
​
"It's true," said Veronica, who had maintained her vigil with Hetman all this time. "Many visitors just stare."
​
"It's—" Christine looked uncomfortable "—I don't think I could ever.... I'm not strong enough."
​
"Were it only strength, you'd be staring at an empty bed."
​
"I would beg to die."
​
"And so I have, many times." Hetman jerked his head as if working out a crick in his neck. "But no. You would not."
​
"You're wrong," said Christine.
​
"I understand your skepticism. But trust me to know a few things, though I'm debilitated, encumbered, and belong to a strain of life not associated with fine distinctions. This is not a fine distinction. It is a very basic fact. You would not beg to die, child. You would beg to live."
​
"Aren't there times when it just needs to end?"
​
It was a rare thing for Hetman to laugh aloud, but he did then, heartily and generously until little bubbles of moisture formed around each nostril. "It always needs to end. But we won't capitulate. We must stay in the game."
​
Christine didn't reply. Hetman, attuned to silence, could tell she was unconvinced.
​
"In the morning," he said, "I feel the warmth of the sun. I can smell flowers and trees; I can smell all the things in this room; I can smell the books, their paper and bindings and ink. And I can hear, through the grace of my friends, great works of literature, imagination, and storytelling." He paused like a practiced speaker. "I even hear your charming voice."
​
Christine blushed. She fixed her stare on Hetman's moist nostrils.
​
Hetman continued, "A person says many things in anger and frustration and fear and despair. But you'll stay in the game, not because it's your choice. There is no other choice."
​
Christine stood there, next to Hetman, angry and ashamed. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue, but didn't put it to her eyes, or any part of her face—just clutched it as she bent over Hetman and reached as if to touch his snout.
​
Agnes bellowed, "Back off!"
​
Her voice seemed to echo from the rafters, though it obviously came from nearer the floor. "Don't you dare touch him!"
​
Christine straightened up and looked for where Agnes might be hiding. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"
​
"Who the hell are you to come here? What do you want?"
​
"All I want is..." She struggled for a phrase and, with the tissue still in her hand, bent over again and kissed Hetman on the tip of his snout, right between his nostrils.
​
"I told you—"
​
"Agnes." Hetman's voice cut through the shock waves. "No need for alarm."
​
"She—she—" Agnes looked up at Christine indignantly.
​
Christine, defiant, looked down at Agnes.
​
"Kissed him," Veronica completed the sentence.
​
Agnes gagged. "How can you allow anything so unsanitary—"
​
"My dear Agnes, I assure you I'm quite all right."
​
Veronica nodded. Agnes averted her stare. She often suspected Veronica of being a little on the simple side.
​
Christine slipped the tissue into her purse and looked down. A few centimeters from where she stood was a red checker, no doubt left over from the Not So Hard game. With the toe of her shoe she pushed the checker a few more centimeters to the right, then kicked it over to an old, frumpy hassock set before an old, frumpy leather reading chair.
​
The checker shot back nearly the way it came, landing right in front of Christine's high heels.
​
Agnes emerged from behind the hassock. "Well?" She looked sternly at Christine.
​
"Well what?"
​
"You've seen the elephant. You've seen the freak show. Now get back in your car and leave us alone."
​
"Agnes," said Hetman, "this young woman is our guest."
​
"She's not my guest!"
​
"You're a mean, grumpy old thing!" Christine kicked the checker back. "I can't imagine you as anyone's toy!"
​
Agnes stopped the advance of the checker with her tail. "Who said I was?" She slapped the checker back to Christine.
​
"You're a toy!" She kicked the checker back to Agnes.
​
"So? You're a human!" She kicked the checker back to Christine. "Nothing anyone can do about that."
​
"Who wants to?" She kicked the checker back to Agnes.
​
"You, if you had a shred of decency." The checker shot back to Christine.
​
"You think all humans are horrible." Back to Agnes.
​
"Haven't been proven wrong yet." Back to Christine.
​
"Who do you think made you?" This time Christine kicked the checker a little harder, a little faster.
​
"Who the hell made you?" Agnes "checked" the checker, then sent it back with the same speed with which it had come.
​
Christine knew she would have to answer, "I don't know," so she said nothing.
​
Agnes watched and waited.
​
"You just hate everybody because you're mean and horrible." Christine flicked the checker back.
​
Agnes whipped her tail to give the checker a little extra spin and altitude. It bounced off Christine's ankle.
​
"Hey!" Christine winced and bent down to massage the spot where the checker struck.
​
"You just hate everyone," said Agnes. "Period."
​
"You're funny-looking." Christine searched to her right for the errant checker. "You've got those stupid plates. What are they for? Good-for-nothing spikes on your tail. And you have that tiny head with a tiny brain inside!"
​
Hetman and Veronica braced themselves for an outburst. All anyone had to do to set off Agnes was mention the words "brain size."
​
But there was none. Agnes, very calmly, said to Christine, "If I'm so stupid, it shouldn't be hard to beat me at this silly game."
​
"What?" Christine picked up the checker. "This?"
​
"What's the matter? Don't know what it is?"
​
Christine chuckled. "It's a checker. A piece from a board game."
​
"Not the way we play it."
​
Christine rested her hands on her hips. "So, how do you play it?"
​
"The floor is the playing field." Agnes spoke softly but tersely. "Each side gets twelve pieces. Red starts her pieces on one side of the room, black on the other. You move the pieces by flicking your tail. If you don't have a tail you can use your paw—or your finger. The only time you get more than one shot is when you hit one of your opponent's pieces. That counts as a point and you're allowed to shoot again. The hit piece is out of the game. Score twelve points and you win. The aim is to get all your opponent's pieces off the floor. Understand?"
​
"Sounds like a stupid game."
​
"Hmmph. No one will think any worse of you because you can't play it."
​
The hands on her hips curled into fists. "Who says I can't play?"
​
"Well, if you've no notion of strategy; no limb-eye coordination; no sense of touch; no understanding of geometric relationships; no knowledge of basic physics—"
​
"Who says I can't play?"
​
"I do!"
​
Christine folded her arms. "Not only can I play, I can beat you like you've never been beaten before!"
​
"Prove it!"
​
Christine took a few steps over to the hassock, sat down, shrugged off her jacket, kicked off her shoes, and slid her purse to Veronica. "Watch this," she said to her. Then, to Agnes: "So, where are the rest of my pieces?"
​
Agnes tapped the floor with her tail: the two stacks of checkers were right there next to the hassock.
​
Christine nodded. "Where do I set up?"
​
"The far end of the library. Set 'em up any way you like, as long as they're no more than half a meter from the wall."
​
"Stupid rules!"
​
Christine walked to the other side of the room, got on her hands and knees, and arranged her pieces.
​
Agnes thought she looked more sensible as a quadruped.
​
While Agnes watched Christine, Ross watched Agnes.
​
She would be preoccupied with the game for at least half an hour, so he headed off in search of the hidden Click Thing.
​
​
Continued Here

I didn't know much about my almost-death. Just that it was fast.
Fucking painful.
I know I died screaming, writhing in agony and just wanting it to stop.
Death, or almost-death, is a weird thing. It's like being dragged under water, suffocating in pitch dark depths, and then floating back to the surface.
Breaking through, oxygen returning to your lungs.
Awakening upside down on a sun lounger with no memories but my name was not what I was expecting to be on the other side. I was always curious about the possibility of an afterlife.
I was brought up in an atheist household, but there was a part of me that believed in something after death. Not quite the white pearly gates, but definitely not the suffocating and yet peaceful oblivion my parents believed in. Mom was convinced there was just the dark, while Dad was more accustomed to reincarnation.
Both of them were wrong. Because Heaven resembled a five star holiday resort.
For a moment I was frozen, staring at a perfect blue sky, aware of my ponytail lightly grazing the water. Looming over me was a picturesque building made of pink brick going up, up, up into the air, thousands, millions, of checkerboard windows, an impossible water park hovering above the clouds.
The pool I was half submerged in, and that shimmered above me, was made of diamonds.
The afterlife for young people was spring break.
I was transfixed, hypnotised by this beautiful place, before I slipped into the water, head first. There was a suppressed memory there somewhere, my idiotic child self forgetting I couldn't swim in the deep end.
My initial reaction was to panic, but I didn't need my lungs or my breath anymore.
The water was the perfect temperature, like being embraced in a warm hug.
Still though, that didn't stop me immediately freaking out and clawing my way back to the surface, spluttering.
It was my natural reaction to choke, despite no longer having working lungs.
“You can't drown in shallow water, idiot.”
Behind me, a boy was sitting on the edge of the pool, his toes dancing in the shallows. The kid was my age.
Eighteen, or maybe nineteen.
He offered me a smile, blowing floppy brown hair out of his eyes. I noticed flowers entangled in his curls, a broken crown of roses.
His clothes were an interesting choice for immortal paradise, a short sleeved white shirt covered in blood, jeans rolled up to his knees. Those were the clothes he must have died in.
I noticed his right eye was bruised yellow, a shiver creeping its way down my spine.
Looking down at myself, my clothes were fairly normal.
No blood splatters, at least not what I could see.
Just a plain shirt and jeans, both of which were uncomfortably glued to me.
“I'm Caine,” he said, kicking his feet in the water.
The boy turned his head, and I gulped in air.
I didn't think panic would still exist in heaven. But there it was, twisting my gut into knots. I didn't have or need breath, and yet I found myself instinctively trying to suck it in.
The guy may have looked beautiful, like the afterlife was editing him to fit perfection. But I could see the shallow cavern at the back of his skull, a smear of pinkish red dripping down his shirt.
“As you can see, it's obvious why I'm here.” he prodded the hole, and I winced.
He saw my reaction and laughed.
“Hey, it's cool, apparently, our physical selves don't exist.” His lips formed a smile. “The girl in room 101 told me our real physical forms would freak us out, so we’re our default selves.”
“Default.” I repeated.
“Yeah!” Caine’s eyes darkened. “We look like we did when we, um, died.”
He sighed, his gaze going skyward, tracking a kid plunging into an infinity pool right above our heads. “Speaking of the D word, I don't remember how or why, I uh, d-worded.” Caine turned back to me, offering me a playful shrug, tipping his head back. Like we were meeting for the first time on holiday.
“I dunno man, I was shot in the head, died and then I ended up in a stoned dude’s idea of heaven. I don't know what to say, except this is awesome.”
“Bree.” I managed to get out.
He raised a brow. “Huh?”
I allowed myself to sink into the water, trying to register his words. “It's Bree.”
“Well, it's nice to meet cha, Bree.”
Caine jumped up, holding out his hand to help me out of the pool.
When I tried to grasp his arm, he held up a two fingered salute. “Happy Death Day.”
I found myself laughing, which was ridiculous because the joke sucked.
I let him pull me out of the pool, sopping wet. “How long did it take you to think of that one?”
Caine shrugged, scrunching up his nose. “Longer than necessary.” he said, “Oh, hey, here's a tip.” the boy spun around to face me, and I could almost forget he was clearly a murder victim.
“If you want to get dry, just do this.” Caine clicked his fingers.
“You're not serious.”
He laughed. “We’re in a never ending paradise for kids, and you think I’m joking?”
“Welcome to Paradise Falls!”
The mechanical voice spoke above us, as if on cue.
There were floating speakers in the sky. Everything seemed to be floating.
The only thing that wasn't floating was us.
When I lifted my head, the clouds switched colors depending on my mood.
According to Caine, the whole world was ours, quite literally.
Everything we saw was tailored to our own personal paradise. I asked Caine what he could see, and he shrugged.
“Flowers.” he said with a light smile.
I was given a welcoming in the form of an AI voice.
“Paradise Falls is a safe space for young people whose lives have come to an abrupt end! If you have any questions regarding your death, please visit the help desk. And remember! Paradise Falls remove painful memories to ensure a *perfect stay here. If you have trouble remembering how you died, be rest assured there is a reason. Here at Paradise Falls, we believe in moving forwards. If your stay here is temporary..."*
The speakers were on a constant repeat, as Caine pulled me further into the resort itself.
The place was 99.9% water, even the floor glistening like the surface of a tropical ocean. I fell into the ground twice, catching the attention of a group of kids walking past us, led by a pretty redhead with a spear through her eye.
The guy walking with her was constantly spluttering water.
“That's Adam and Reia,” Caine murmured. “Adam drowned in his family pool, and Reia…” he trailed off.
“Was shot through the eye,” I said, “It's obvious.”
Caine shot me a grin. “You're learning!” he said, “But, no. She was… strangled.”
I kept walking, narrowly missing falling into another surprise swimming pool.
“Who by?” I found myself asking, breathless.
Caine scratched the back of his head. “Her boyfriend. I know, right? Yikes.”
“Leave the new girl alone!” A girl’s voice trilled.
Caine curled his lip. He didn't even turn around. “Ignore Mina,” the guy muttered, “If we pretend not to see her, she'll crawl back to the infinity pool.”
“You're not, and never will be funny, Caine.”
The girl standing behind us was beautiful, free of flaws and the scars from her death. Dark brown hair that ran like silk down her back, a crown of daisies loosely tangled through.
Another flower crown.
I saw them as a symbol of rebirth.
Mina’s clothes stood out, a white dress, flowers coiled around her ankles.
She was everything I wanted to be and more, immediately giving me butterflies.
Attached to her hip was a shy looking blonde guy, who gave me a shy wave.
Caine’s lip curled. “I see you've been catching strays.” He muttered to Mina.
The dead boy nudged me, motioning for me not to speak, and I didn't.
I couldn't.
Instead, I waved back and tried to smile at this kid whose skull was caved in.
The guy's smile was innocent, and I had a hard time wondering how a human being could do something so horrific.
So inhuman, that they themselves become monsters.
I caught a single red petal in the kid’s hair.
“Don't pity me,” the boy said with a sheepish smile, “I know it looks bad.”
I found my voice. “No, it…”
“Name’s Zach.” He said, before I could choke on pitying him.
Mina must have noticed my face. She passed me the drink she was holding, that was a whole new shade of pink.
“Try this!” she insisted. “They do emotion shakes here. This one is supposed to taste like falling in love!”
I took a sip, and she was right. Like tasting the warmth of a first crush, the butterflies fluttering around in your gut.
Combined with strawberry, mango, and the slightest bit of coconut, it was heaven in a smoothie.
“They have every flavour,” Mina said excitedly, bouncing up and down.
“I even tried depression! And it's surprisingly good, but it's like a rich, chocolatey shake? Like, mix a kinder bar with the euphoria from sex, then the ickiness of a hangover. Combine with the break up with your boyfriend, zero serotonin, and you have the depression shake!”
“Fascinating.” Caine said, in a tone that suggested otherwise. “Please tell us more.”
She responded with a playful shove.
“Relax! I'm just giving them the Paradise Falls lowdown.”
“Yes, because I'm sure the first thing that is on their minds is a double frappe with extra serotonin," He grumbled. “Dude, this isn't a fucking college tour.”
The girl wrapped her arms around me, her flowery scent was sweet.
“Caine is a man-child. He just likes playing in the pool.”
“I'm still technically a kid, y’know!” he said, skipping ahead of us with Zach.
The two guys were standing on a golden bridge ahead, looking out into the expanse of water that bled into the sky.
Mina was still talking, her hand wrapped around my wrist, but I was suddenly far too aware of her smell.
Flowers.
Rich and sweet, like Jasmine.
Dirt.
Filth clinging to her skin, mixed with cheap perfume.
“Oh, and on Wednesdays, they actually sell shots of serotonin. It's like a legal high…”
I was aware of the girl hugging me, her hair lightly brushing my cheeks, but Mina’s face was in my mind, her smell choking my nose and throat. Flowers.
I knew her.
I knew her stink, and I knew my body’s reaction to it.
She wasn't supposed to feel and smell so familiar, so real, because I had never met her before stepping foot in Paradise Falls.
My memories, however, were full of her.
Suffocated with her.
All it took was one splinter of memory, and my Heaven was crumbling.
Paradise Falls faded, like it never existed, and I was back in the real world.
The flower girl was in front of me, draped in a white dress, daisies clinging to matted curls.
The room was made of concrete, one singular light flickering above the two of us.
The girl cocked her head, lightly pulling at her hair.
Her smell was wild flowers and the dirt she ground her fingers in.
“Daddy said you're not ready.” The flower girl murmured. Her eyes were bright, like she was happy. But her lips were drawn into a frown. She leaned forward, her breath stinking of cigarette smoke, and blew in my face.
“That's a pity.”
She pulled a flower from her hair, dangling the daisy in front of my face.
“Aren't you hungry?” the girl mocked a child-like giggle, making the daisies dance.
But I wasn't looking at the flower, or the girl’s dead eyes. I was staring at the bodies hanging from meat hooks, beheaded sacks of flesh swaying from side to side. The walls were painted rich red, the entrails from prior sacrifices used to create cave-like paintings.
The Flower King insisted that our blood stained each brick, our life force fed inside the house and the flower garden.
The bodies on hooks were people I knew.
Lia, who told me she was going to escape.
She was on display for that very reason.
I screamed, agony and pain writhing in my cry, a fear I couldn't comprehend.
I couldn’t stop, screeching until my throat was choking up, my cries gurgling into wet sobs.
Cocking her head, the flower girl’s lips spread out into a demented grin.
If I looked closely, I could see stitches lining her forehead, where her king had filled her thoughts with poison.
I thought I could wake her up, but the flowers were too deep, filling her mind.
“You stupid bitch,” she said with a laugh.
The flower girl cradled my face with her fingers, digging her fingernails in.
Her eyes were wild, like the flowers she worshipped, no trace of humanity left, except the markings on her skin.
She slapped me, and I saw red.
“It's not real!" I whispered through a shriek.
It's not real.
I wanted to tell her that her father was forcefully breeding men and women, murdering their newborns.
For the flowers.
I wanted to tell her she was next, and then so was her ‘brother’.
But all she did was giggle, pressing her hands over her mouth like a little kid.
“You make me laugh!” The girl straightened up, kicking me in the stomach, and I felt every hit, every sharp, agonising pain ripping through me.
“You're so funny!” she spluttered, forcing me to laugh with her.
If I didn't, the flower girl would bleed me out before the harvest.
When she was finished, I was curled onto my side, my mouth full of red warmth that dripped down my chin.
“Urgh,” the girl pulled a face, “Are you coughing up your lungs? That's like, so gross!”
Flower Girl kicked me again, this time in the back of my head.
I saw stars exploding, my thoughts swimming.
Darkness was creeping at the corner of my vision, when she stopped.
“If you're going to kill them, get on with it. They'll just be early sacrifices.”
I felt something move behind me, a body I didn't realize was attached to me, come to life.
His hands entangled with mine trembled, a soft moan escaping his mouth. When I managed to look up, the flower girl grasped hold of my chin, forcing me to look in the direction of the Flower Prince.
I never knew his old self, but there were whispers that he too had been like me.
Just a scared kid needing a home.
The shadow dipping under the light grew a face, and I could already see the flowers entangled in his curls catching the light.
He only wore his crown on the days of harvest.
The guy stood behind her, arms crossed, dark eyes pinched around the edges.
Dressed in matching white, The Flower Prince was stained red, painted like his father.
The markings on his head, stitches cementing his place as a Child Of The Garden.
He wasn't smiling, but my sharp hisses of breath were teasing his facial muscles.
The boy held out his hand, and after slight hesitation, the flower girl pressed a blade into his fist. I watched his fingers tip-toe across the teeth, setting every nerve ending on fire, my body catapulting into fight or flight.
I saw what happened to Adam, and then Lucy, and Theia.
They all died by his psychotic hand, cradling their bodies spewing red in his arms and promising they were making a worthy donation.
The Flower Prince ran the knife down my face, his expression crumpling into a melancholic frown.
“You're scared.” He said, pressing enough pressure to draw blood.
I felt it, a single line running down my face.
I sensed his urgency for it, his polluted thoughts desperate to quench the garden.
“Don't be scared.” the boy said, his lips breaking into a grin resembling his father’s. His human eyes were gone, replaced with hollow caverns filled with an insanity that was physically vibrating him, twitching his body from side to side. I barely felt the blade go in.
As if he could feel my pain, he screamed with me, mocking my pleads for death.
“Please!”
The cry came from behind me. He spoke in heavy sobs, wrenching against our restraints. “Please let us go.”
Swinging the knife between his fingers, The Flower Prince pouted, his eyes darkening, lips curling in disgust.
“But what if I don't want to let you go, huh?” he mocked a child-like mumble.
What
If
I
Don't
Want
To
Let
You
Go?
He struck both of us, emphasising every word, and I felt it, the blade cruel slicing into me, gnawing through flesh and bone. I thought it would stop.
I thought he was taking us to the edge of death, and then let us breathe, let us writhe in agony. But he didn't.
The Flower Prince did not show mercy, plunging his blade into me until I was lying in stemming red on my back, my gaze on the ceiling, imagining water.
Pools of glistening water I could envelope myself in.
Wash off the blood, and sink deep down.
My companion's body was behind me, unrecognisable.
The Flower Girl was singing a melody, dancing around his crumpled form.
The Flower Prince was on his knees, knelt in my blood, lips stretched into a maniacal grin. He dipped his fingers in thickening red, gliding them across my cheek. His voice was incomprehensible giggles and prayers to the flowers, to his father, for sacrificing me too early.
He was rocking back and forth, hollowed out eyes blinking at an invisible God, when the sound slammed into me.
BANG.
I pried my eyes open, rolling onto my side.
So much blood.
It was sticky and wet and warm, slick on my skin.
Thundering footsteps, a blinding light that wasn't Heaven’s pearly gates.
A flashlight illuminated the room, finding the flower girl, who sliced her own throat the second they moved toward her.
“Hands up!” the voice yelled. “Move away from them!”
“Or what?” The Flower Prince laughed. I caught the flash of his grin.
“Are you planning on shooting a kid?”
“I said, put your HANDS on your HEAD! Now!”
Bree?
The world contorted, and I was back under a crystal blue sky.
Now though, clouds were starting to form, a darkness riding on the horizon.
“Bree!”
I blinked, and my murderer was in front of me. “Did you hear what I said?”
I felt his hand wrap around my arm, tight enough to make me shriek.
“I said,” Caine gritted through a grin, squeezing me tighter. The loose flowers in his hair were slowly forming a crown.
His smile was wide, but I couldn't find the happiness and carefree he'd been an hour ago. From the manic look in his eyes, my murderer was living his own version of paradise.
And I think he revelled in getting his memory back every time.
Caine clung to me, the sky turning tumultuous.
Behind me, Zach turned around, his eyes wide, suddenly.
He started forwards, before coming to a stop.
He was too scared. Mina took his hand gently, coaxing him back.
The Flower Girl met my gaze, her eyes filling with tears.
She took Zach, the two of them fading into the distance.
And I was stuck with The Flower Prince.
“Well?” Caine laughed, tightening his grip.
“Isn't this the best fucking afterlife ever?”
Bree? Come on, honey!
I've got a heartbeat. It's faint.
Brianna! Can you hear me?
It felt like being yanked under water, dragged to icy depths.
When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by paramedics, a mask I was struggling to pant into. Zach was dead.
In the corner of my eye, his body was being gently pulled onto a stretcher.
To my left, Mina lying on her side, her eyes still open.
Her lips carved into a grin.
Caine was crumpled in a heap, his brains staining his flower crown.
“Bree.”
The woman kneeling over me was telling me to breathe, to not move.
I was told I died for 4 and a half minutes.
But I wasn't looking at the paramedic checking me over.
Instead, my gaze found the finger marks still ingrained into the flesh of my arm.
I could still see him, clinging onto me, like my torture was his paradise.
It's been a year, and the shadow of Caine's fingertips are still there.
If anything, they feel like markings.
A branding.
And I'm fucking terrified that when I do eventually die, he will be waiting for me.
In his own personal heaven

This is the fourth part of a series of posts I’m making that describe how to become a better entrepreneur with tactics I’ve personally found have helped me get better at entrepreneurship.
If you’ve got any questions, please feel free to ask and I’ll try answer as many as I can.
TLRD: Consistently high-quality sleep is crucial as it enhances cognitive function, creativity, emotional regulation and is fundamental to optimising overall performance and well-being. To improve sleep quality, prioritise a consistent sleep schedule, optimise light exposure, regulate room temperature, and utilise stimulus control therapy if struggling to fall asleep.
The fourth technique I’d like to share is: sleep.
I know this is something everyone is already doing, and probably knows they should be doing , but what I really wanted to do is share some tips I’ve picked up that have helped me improve my sleep, and try to explain why improving your sleep is so important.
Maybe you’re wondering what this has to do with entrepreneurship. If you really want to dial yourself in and optimise your whole life to the goal of becoming a better entrepreneur, good sleep definitely helps.
Consistently high-quality sleep is really important for entrepreneurs because of its impact on various aspects of brain function, emotional well-being, and overall productivity. Here are some key benefits:
Enhanced Cognitive Function: Quality sleep is important for optimal cognitive function, including memory, attention, decision-making, and problem-solving skills. During sleep, the brain consolidates memories and processes information acquired throughout the day, leading to improved learning and memory retention. If you prioritise high-quality sleep, you’re better equipped to tackle difficult tasks, make better decisions, and adapt yourself to challenging situations.
Increased Creativity and Innovation: Quality sleep improves creativity and innovation by allowing the brain to engage in divergent thinking processes. During the rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, the brain forms connections between seemingly unrelated ideas, leading to new insights and more creative solutions. If you consistently get good sleep, you’re more likely to get innovative ideas, think outside the box, and make meaningful improvements.
Enhanced Emotional Regulation: Good sleep is essential for emotion regulation and enabling you to navigate the highs and lows of entrepreneurship with greater composure and indifference. Sleep deprivation is associated with heightened emotional reactivity, irritability, and decreased stress tolerance, which can impair decision-making and relationships. By prioritising high-quality sleep, you can maintain emotional balance, handle setbacks better, and cultivate a positive work environment indicative of growth and success.
So how do you actually get good sleep? Here’s some of the tips that have helped me most.
A consistent sleep and wake time: Establishing a regular sleep schedule helps regulate your body's internal clock, known as the circadian rhythm. This consistency reinforces your body's natural sleep-wake cycle, making it easier to fall asleep and wake up feeling refreshed. Also, maintaining a consistent sleep schedule improves the quality of your sleep by ensuring you get enough restorative rest each night.
Bright light in the morning, dim the lights before bed: Light exposure plays an important role in regulating your circadian rhythm. Exposure to bright natural light in the morning helps signal to your body that it's time to wake up and initiates the production of cortisol, a hormone that promotes alertness. Conversely, dimming the lights in the evening signals to your body that it's time to wind down and prepares it for sleep by triggering the release of melatonin, the hormone that regulates sleep-wake cycles.
Temperature regulation: Creating a sleep-conducive environment involves optimising the temperature of your bedroom. Research suggests that a slightly cooler room temperature, typically around 60 to 67 degrees Fahrenheit (15 to 19 degrees Celsius), promotes better sleep quality. Cooling down your body temperature helps initiate sleep and facilitates deeper, more restorative sleep cycles. This can be done by having a warm shower, or drinking a hot beverage. Conversely, warming up your body upon waking can help you feel more alert and energised to start your day. You can do this through cold exposure or working out.
If you’re trying to sleep, been in bed for 20-25 minutes, go relax elsewhere until you feel tired enough to sleep: Known as stimulus control therapy, this technique helps break the association between the bed and wakefulness. If you find yourself lying awake in bed for more than 20 to 25 minutes, it's advisable to get out of bed and engage in a relaxing activity elsewhere until you feel sufficiently sleepy to return to bed. This prevents frustration and anxiety associated with tossing and turning in bed, making it easier to fall asleep when you do return.
Hope these tips help! As stated earlier, if you’ve got any questions please ask and I’ll do my best to help you out.

Welcome to The Oblivion Cycle universe, a vast setting spanning all of time and space and so much more. While many stories may shed perspective on this grand cosmic vista, there are also tales of adventure and sacrifice, romance and terror, grimdark corruption and scientific progress. To become immersed in the setting is to let the chaos of creativity flow through you, to let go of what is probable to discover what’s possible. I have created TOC for one reason, to inspire and entertain any who will listen. So please feel free to join me on this great adventure as I push the boundaries of what is possible and expand the limits of our creativity together. For more information on the setting and its lore there is a subreddit for TOC at TheOblivionCycle and a Discord server dedicated to it here [​​https://discord.gg/uGsYHfdjYf ] called ‘The Oblivion Cycle Community Server’. I hope you find the following story entertaining and once more, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
+ E1:P1 + E2:P1 + Previous + Next +
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Continued From E2:P3
Balinski moved out into the hall, not in any particular rush but moving with purpose towards an uncertain goal. Balinski held his large revolver low and to his side, ready to fire should danger present itself but trying not to appear overly threatening. Given the laser burned state of the black trench coat he was wearing it might be a lost cause however, but nobody could fault him for trying.
Caesar and Siyel padded softly alongside him, the two exchanging furtive looks with their surroundings as they moved through the darkened hallway. They hadn’t gone more than fifty meters before all at once the sounds of gunfire erupted once again. This time it sounded quite close by and Balinski pushed down the urge to rush headlong into the fight.
He had Siyel with him, he couldn't leave her alone. Not even with Caesar to protect her. Instead, he hunched down and signaled to proceed with caution. These insurgents had already demonstrated a willingness for extreme violence so he didn't want to take any chances. If he could get the drop on them then he would.
The rubble strewn floor was dark, the lights in that section of the hall were still out. Up ahead there was a large hole in the wall, broken pieces of carbcrete spread outwards in a fan from the hole. It must have been the reason for the hallway’s current state of disorder. He was curious as to the reason for the blast, but they passed it by without stopping.
Siyel cursed shortly after they were by, “That’s one of the evidence lockups. There are millions of osmir worth of drugs and controlled substances in there, I guess they decided it would be easier to punch through the wall than to crawl through the other security measures.”
Balinski shook his head. The dust seemed to have settled for the most part and there were no sounds from the darkness beyond the blast. They had likely taken what they could carry and split. Say what you will about these gangsters, but they were intelligent. Too intelligent.
How had they known precisely where to hit to do the most damage? He piled that suspicious line of reasoning into the corner of his mind, he would come back to that he was sure. But at the moment there were more pressing matters to attend too.
Balinski and Siyel crept along the hallway, the light levels slowly returning to normal as they got farther away from the breached section of wall. Caesar trotted alongside them, her head on a constant swivel as she scanned for threats with all her senses. Balinski wasn’t sure where they were heading, he had never been inside this part of the precinct before, but as he glanced back towards Siyel she gave him a confident nod. They must still be on the right track.
Siyel seemed to pause suddenly, he stopped as she put a hand to her ear. She smiled and spoke excitedly, “Just now? That’s great news. Alright, start getting it concrete, I want you to route all calls through your interface and try to isolate enemy chatter.” She turned to him, her gloomy expression replaced by one a little more hopeful. “Daryon and the others have managed to return some functionality to our communications network. They used one of the dead guys’ radios to find the jamming frequency. Now all they have to do is isolate our communications from it and we will have our radios back.”
This was indeed great news. He gestured to her and asked, “So, the plan?”
She thought for a moment, her black eyebrows pinching in thought. “I’ll check..” She activated her wrist worn assistant device and tapped out a series of short messages. After another second she seemed to get a response. “Alright, so things are still rough, but the resistance is improving. It looks like the other officers have managed to push them back in three out of five key areas. We are still losing the habitation and detention blocks. Damn, I hope they don't figure out how to deactivate the cell blocks.”
Balinski frowned as they rounded another tunnel corner in the warren-like maze of the precinct's interior, luckily he had downloaded a schematic of the interior to his cyberport a few weeks ago. He drew from this mental image now as he led them to another large room. This time instead of finding officers hunkering behind cover he saw a full troop of tunnel trawlers in their heavy HAVOC gear. They looked to have cut the offending gangsters apart in close combat, bright purple gore dripped from their unsheathed vibro-swords and smoke curled from slowly cooling thermo-maces as they holstered them. As he entered the room the Havoc’s tensed before one of them recognised him and called out his name with a raised arm.
“Oh it’s you! Balinski, just in time to miss the party!” Officer Tanya said cheerfully, her helmet speakers making her indelicate tone easy to hear as she stomped towards them in her power armour. She reached up and removed her helmet with a click and a hiss before hanging it on the magnetic holder on her waist. She looked him up and down and asked, “Feeling better?”
Balinski frowned slightly and shook his head. “I feel as well as can be expected given the current state of the world.” His nonanswer seemed to satisfy her though as she turned to Siyel with a crisp salute.
Siyel noted the woman's gore splattered frame and elected to keep her distance as she returned the salute and gestured towards the remains of the invaders. Their corpses scattered across a full dozen meters of the floor and walls. “Well, you certainly dealt with them.. unequivocally.”
Tanya smiled, her bright white teeth flashing at him as she responded. “Hell yeah, kicked their unlucking asses we did.”
Her face fell as one of her squadmates walked up to them and gave her a nod before pointing to their ear in the universal signal for listening. Tanya walked a pace away with a muttered apology and replaced her helmet. Siyel shook her horned head as she looked about the room and Balinski had to agree. The tunnel trawlers were some of the roughest and most uncouth of the CPD officer corps. But they certainly got the job done.
He looked down and noticed that Caesar’s ears were still flattened back. “What is it girl? Something wrong?” She seemed to be staring at the bodies, or what remained of them. Did she smell something off about them? Before he could investigate farther, Tanya rushed back and exclaimed loudly.
“Slake’s cell is under assault!”
Siyel jolted and then gave Balinski a look that told him everything he needed to know. He gestured to Tanya, “How fast can the rest of your squad get ready to move out?” He was sure he knew the answer already though.
She seemed to pause, her external speaker buzzing slightly as she relayed commands over her internal comms. The other three officers present immediately stopped what they were doing and made their way over. Siyel gestured to them, “We need to get back to the interrogation wing. Double time!”
With that she took off at a dead sprint, Balinski followed after her. His cybernetics allowed him to easily keep pace, the Havoc troopers lagging only a little behind in their bulky armour. The thuds of their heavy footsteps echoing through the nearby halls as they rocketed past. The walls were all the same and without his internal map to guide him he would have had no way of knowing the right direction to travel.
After another minute of this pace he noticed Siyel starting to flag slightly, the lean nerivith panting hard as she tried to maintain pace with him. Tanya and the Havoc troopers slowly surpassed them as he slowed to keep pace with her and Caesar. She nodded to him and motioned for him to follow them but he couldn’t leave her alone with active shooters still occupying the building.
He thought of an idea, not a great one. But one that caused both a small flutter in his chest and a stinging dread of what she would do should he impose such a thought. He decided to just do it, better to ask for forgiveness than permission. With a shout of, “Here, I got you!” He sped up right behind her.
She seemed to get the gist of his plan and he saw her eye’s widen as she started to pant out, “Don’t you dare..” But he ignored her as he scooped the tall woman up in his arms and redoubled his pace. Siyel exclaimed in surprise and a little frustration as she was forced to cling to his neck as he thundered down the passage after Tanya and her troopers.
He held her close, acutely aware of the pressure of her arms around his neck. He tried to remain as professional a demeanour as possible as he skidded around a corner and had to rebound off the wall in order to keep up the pace. His foot left an impact crater in the carbcrete, a spiderweb of cracks forming from the damage as he ran on.
Siyel didn’t say a word, he hoped that she wasn’t too mad. They needed to get there quickly and he wasn’t going to leave her on her own. Caesar or no, the station was still crawling with dangerous criminals and he would be damned to the depths of the void if he let her get hurt. He realised that he was grimacing and smoothed out his features again and he was forced once more to take a sharp corner.
This time he managed to avoid damaging the station’s infrastructure but he did hear a small gasp of either shock or surprise from Siyel as he had to readjust his grip on her. He felt her long tail coil around one of his arms as they neared the interrogation wing. It was probably just for stability reasons, he mused. He chanced a quick glance down at her with his biological eye and was surprised to see that she was staring up into his face. What really caught him off guard was the look on the alien woman’s pink face.
She didn’t look angry or afraid, not that had expected a woman like her to be afraid of him. No, instead of that she seemed to be.. riveted? Her violet eyes locked with his own and for that brief instant he felt as though the universe had fallen away from around him. His breath caught in his remaining biological lung and time seemed to slow.
For all the eternity of an instant her eyes remained fixed to his own. Like a moment frozen in time, he felt as though he could stay there forever. But it was only an instant and as he flicked his own gaze away he caught sight of the others turning the corner in front of him. The first one around the corner looked like a human, by the design of the armour at least.
The Havoc trooper stepped around the corner, and then vanished in an explosion of fire and wicked shrapnel as something flashed through the air and impacted them directly on their armoured chestplate. Balinski’s right eye was blinded and he skidded to a stop while turning his back towards the danger.
He grunted in pain as something heavy smashed into the middle of his back and knocked him to one knee. His armour had stopped it though, if he hadn’t turned around... He looked at Siyel, the police commander still clutched close to his chest in his protective stance. Whatever magic she had entranced him with seemed to be gone as she was back to her usual stoic self. She struggled slightly, “Well? Let me down already, you big metal lump!” her tail uncoiled from his arm as he stood.
He did as she asked and smiled slightly as she dusted herself off before straightening her uniform slowly. She turned to him and scolded, “Next time I say leave me, leave me.”
He shook his head and motioned to Caesar, “No can do. You sign my paychecks, can't let anything happen to you.” Before she could respond he turned and strode towards the three standing Havoc troopers.
Tanya and the others were taking cover in the hall adjoining the one their target was still situated in. “What’s the status?” He asked, glancing towards the downed officer. The man was unmoving, the large smoking crater in the center of his chestplate telling Balinski that he likely wasn’t getting back up..
Tanya’s voice was livid as it boomed from her external speakers. “Those motherfuckers just killed Jayne! What do you think the status is?! I can’t contact Daniel or Olive either!” She seemed to be emotionally compromised, and he could well understand the bone deep rage that accompanied losing a battle brother.
He slapped her on the shoulder, her head whipping towards him. The deep blue glow of her helmet’s eyes seemed to bore into him as he nodded towards the ceiling. “I have an idea. Caesar, come over here.” He waited as the cyber-husky zipped over, her eyes betraying her intelligence as she looked from him to Tanya boldly.
Tanya cocked her helmeted head. “The dog? That’s your plan?”
Balinski smiled, the shattered part of his face twisting as he nodded. “Yes, Caesar has neural implants that make her much more capable than one might assume. Right girl?” He asked her. Caesar gave a small growl and nodded her head once. Tanya seemed a bit taken aback, but not being able to see the woman’s face it was hard to tell. “The plan is to put Caesar up into the ceiling. She should be light and small enough to cross over the panels without falling through. She will then go and disable the heavy weapon operator and give you the opening your troopers will need to reach the target.”
The idea sounded insane, but it might just be crazy enough to work. Tanya seemed to think so as well as the woman looked at Caesar and asked, “You really think she can pull it off?”
Balinski looked at his erstwhile companion. Her bright blue eyes full of intelligence as she deliberately lolled her tongue out of her mouth like an idiot. He chuckled, “Yea. I do. Caesar, boost off me.” He told her. She did as he ordered, using his hand as a springboard as he pushed up. She used her cybernetic front legs to simultaneously push off his shoulders as he catapulted her into the roof. She lowered her wedge shaped head, blasting through the roof tiles like cardboard and landing somewhere out of sight.
She stuck her head out of the hole a moment later and gave him a doggie grin. “Go, now. Take out the man holding the rocket launcher, I will designate him for you. Go!” He made a shooing motion and she disappeared again. He took a deep breath and then moved towards the intersection of the hall. He felt a hand on his shoulder, it was one of the other officers.
“Careful.” Was all the armoured figure said, their voice slightly feminine despite their impressive bulk.
He inched closer and then peaked around the gap. He took only a second to record the hall with his cybernetics and then popped back into cover as a burst of gunfire chased him. The crooks had placed a rudimentary barricade in the middle of the hall. Not enough to stop any serious firepower, but enough to give visual cover and obscure them. He thought hard, an idea forming in his mind.
He used his direct neural link to Caesar and sent, “Caesar, get behind them and give me a ping in thirty seconds. Don’t worry about getting seen, As soon as you send it I want you to move in. Trust me.” He didn't get anything back, but he didn't need to. He trusted the cyberhound to do as he asked. They had been friends and partners for their whole lives, and luck willing they would continue to for many more.
He looked to the others, “I am going to handle it, hold your fire please. We have friendlies downrange.”
Tanya seemed to trust him, but the woman that had given him luck’s wishes was a little less enthused. Regardless, she settled down as Siyel motioned for her to follow his directive. Balinski unslung the GR74F-8 from his back and checked it. It was locked and loaded, he would only be able to get off one or two shots before they returned fire. He would have to make them count.
The seconds reached zero and his overlaid cybernetic vision received an active ping from a marked source ahead. With the knowledge of exactly where each and every thug was he stepped around the corner with the powerful electromagnetic gun raised. He fired a shot that whipped out at nearly eighteen hundred meters per second and ripped through the barrier and the man hunched behind it without slowing. The bright blue line of ionised air along its path showing like a line of blue fire that connected the two as the molten remains of the slug tumbled away into the background.
He saw a flash of grey fur behind the enemy position as Caesar burst from the ceiling right behind them, her body like a seeking missile as she ripped into the other man that was standing with a rocket launcher aimed in his direction. He turned to the next target, he knew there was another man behind the barricade and he fired again in short order as the capacitors of his weapon cycled with loud snaps. This shot was of considerably lower power as the weapon was not fully charged yet so soon after his previous shot, but the tungsten alloy slug still screamed from the barrel at over seven hundred meters per second regardless and tore a fist sized hole out of the slaaveth he was aiming for.
They went spiraling to the ground, their choking noises lost in the screeches of the thug that Caesar had savaged with her titansteel jaws. He yelled to her, “Caesar, heel!” She did so, releasing the man as Balinski shouted to the others. “It’s clear Tanya, friendlies accounted for!”
Presently the sound of heavy booted feet marched up behind him and he gestured to the moaning figure who had shot Jayne. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.” His tone was colder than the look on her steel helm as she nodded and pointed the barrel of her ordinance launcher at the suddenly shocked criminal’s face.
“No.. they won’t” She pulled the trigger, erasing the injured man’s head from existence and satisfying her need for vengeance.
Siyel ran up and Balinski immediately went on higher alert. If bullet’s started flying she didn't have any heavy armour to protect her. Just the lightweight bullet resistant vest she was wearing over the top of her uniform. He wanted to protect her, but he also knew that she would resent him for not doing his job. And the job he had been hired for by her was to take down bad guys, so that’s just what he would have to keep doing until she was no longer in immediate danger.
“The prisoner!” Tanya perked up as Siyel shouted suddenly, the nerivith woman darting towards the interrogation room’s outer doorway. The door itself was laying on the floor, seemingly smashed from its hinges. Something about it struck him as off but he ignored it as he bolted after the madwoman. She was going to get herself killed pulling stunts like this, it wasn’t his job to look after her he knew but a part of him didn't care. He.. respected her. Far too much to let her get hurt doing what she thought was right.
He shook his head as he saw the mutilated corpse of one of the Havoc troopers, he didn't know if it was the Daniel or Olive that Tanya had mentioned. The body looked to have been shot from point-blank range by some manner of high calibre rifle, though not hypersonics. An anti-material rifle perhaps?
Siyel had gone past the gruesome scene and once more Balinski noted that something about it felt off. As if there was something missing that his brain was trying to tell him. Once more he ignored this inkling as he followed Siel into the interrogation room proper. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
As soon as he entered he could smell the scent of spilled blood. The faint iron tang of it filling his nose as he looked at the mess that was left of Slake. It was splashed across the table and the wall behind the chair where the man had sat. The manacles that had once restrained the crime boss were now left broken and dripping gore from the repugnant scene. Siyel herself looked distraught, and he knew it wasn’t sadness for the death of Slake. But instead frustration at the loss of intelligence the man represented in her investigation.
She seemed to deflate as she leaned against the blood spattered table. “I had him, I was so close.” She hung her horned head, her tail drooping nearly to the floor as she leaned heavily on its surface.
Balinski felt a little awkward, seeing this side of the normally unflappable woman. He cleared his throat and saw her twitch. “It isn't all lost, if we can apprehend the person responsible for this then we can figure out who Slake was afraid of.” He wanted to reach out and comfort her in some way, but he didn't want to jeopardize the tentative relationship they seemed to be developing. So instead he stood ramrod straight as she turned around, Caesar giving him a strange look as she sat by his side neatly.
Siyel took a deep breath and nodded, rubbing one of her pink-skinned horns with an idle hand. “Okay, I want you to go and get me another prisoner. Not one of the rabble, but somebody who knows what they are doing. Can you do that for me, Balinski?” She asked him earnestly. Her hard violet stare penetrated deep into his very soul.
He cracked a small smile. “I thought you would never ask. C’mon Caesar, we have a bad guy to bag.” Siyel whispered something as he walked out of the room but he didn’t catch it. He saw Tanya standing by the corpse of the dead trooper by the door and she motioned for him to approach. He did so confidently, she seemed to have some important insight she wanted to share.
She pointed to the man and asked him, “Look. Anything seem odd to you?”
Balinski had noted that something about the scene seemed off the first time he went by, and now as he cocked his head and looked again he saw it. He gestured to the body and then turned to look at the damaged door to the hall outside. “Yeah, he looks like he was taken by surprise. And shot in the side, not the front. I noticed that the door wasn’t broken down from the outside either.”
Tanya took off her helmet and swore. “Yea, I noticed that too. I also couldn't fail to notice that Daniel isn’t here either. There is no blood or body, and as much as it pains me to say it I think there might have been some foul play here.”
Bainski’s eyes widened. “Wait, you think this was an inside job?” He had a hard time believing that, the Havoc’s were some of the most rigorously tested units in the whole of the CPD. What could possibly have convinced the man to turncoat?
He asked her and she simply shook her head. “I have no idea how they might have broken him. But I wasn't the first to notice he had been acting strange lately. In fact it was Olive that had first pointed it out..” She gestured to the fallen trooper solemnly. “That’s why they agreed to stick around and keep an eye on them while we went out to fight the threat. I am such an idiot for leaving them alone, Olive probably confronted him on it. See how she had her sidearm unclipped, she might have been about to arrest him for treason when Daniel cut her down in cold blood.”
She covered her face with a gauntleted hand, he watched her silently as she stayed like that for another second. She stood and nodded to him, “I want you to take him down for me Balinski. If anyone can get that traitorous bastard the death he deserves then it would be you. Can you do that for me?” he shrugged and then frowned as she shook her head. “I appreciate the honesty, but I am counting on you to get revenge. I… can't. I have lost so many already, I can’t lose another. Please..”
Balinski looked down as he felt something butt into his leg. It was Caesar, the pup whined softly and then looked pointedly at the broken figure slumped against the wall. “I will do it. But please don’t give up, I know the feeling of losing battle brothers. The anger and shame will pass, remember the good things.” he placed a hand on her armoured shoulder. His own black cybernetics mismatched against the dark navy blue of her armoured shoulder.
Caesar hopped a few times and gave a pointed sniff. She was detecting some manner of scent trail, possibly Slake’s as they had taken the man’s body instead of leaving it here to rot. Balinski rushed out into the hall as Caesar started to follow the scent. The remaining two Havoc troopers gave him a nod as he exited the interrogation rooms. “Stay with Tanya and Siyel. I am going after them.”
The one on the right nodded their armoured helmet. “Yes sir!”
And then he was gone. Running after the trail that Caesar was following.
Continued in E2:P5
==End of Transmission==

https://youtu.be/P4GTrBJTigw?si=y6OeeI2V52HlJ_DQ
My brain is only a receiver, in the Universe there is a core from which we obtain knowledge, strength and inspiration. I have not penetrated into the secrets of this core, but I know that it exists. Nikola Tesla
The pendulum of the mind oscillates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong. Carl Gustav Jung
One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. Carl Gustav Jung
Sorry if you wanted more. This is a work in progress page atm.
Need to find the wright quotes, im jus amassing the template for the harder work which will come.
But heres the hint. Its in conjunction with both sides of the brain with overlapping external and internal observable senses, do we find the conjunction of rhe spheres. Chemical reactions wether externally or internally manufactured is whats needed to chsnge the VF of the mind, allowing new vistas of infinite realities. Lol
Summing up these concepts is hard when youve gotten past this part for youreself awhile ago. Adhd is a blessing and a curse.

Obviously, when a creator specifies an option to buy the template for commercial use, you'd have to buy it and then you can resell it. What about templates that are completely free with no option for commercial use? Can I just customize them further and resell?

I have had the audio file of this living rent free in my brain for yearrrrs. Fairly certain it was an animated movie along the lines of All Dogs go to Heaven or Great Mouse Detective. The bits I remember is that it was spoken by a villanous lackey (not the villain themselves) in like a nasally voice while assuring himself that this annoying/hard task he is doing while speaking this line will make it all worth it in the future. Please help me!!

Here is an instruction set to paste into Claude (the large Language Model) for a text based Fallout New Vegas experience. The goal was to take the structure of New Vegas and bring it to life with Claude's language generation. In a way it is a proof of concept for what I hope games will grow into in the coming years. I think there is a lot of potential in using existing games as a sort of foundation to apply AI to, turning them from more static into dynamic/adaptive experiences.
I haven't play tested too much, but initially Claude was putting numbered prompts at the bottom giving me options of what to do. I asked Claude not to do this because I was looking for a more open ended experience and wanted to practice my writing, but using the numbered system could speed things up for someone who doesn't want to write as much.
I tried using the prompt in Meta AI, but it was not nearly as immersive as Claude 3 Opus was. I do pay for the premium version of Claude, but I bet the free version will do a great job as well. I haven't tested this with ChatGPT (3.5 or 4), but I wouldn't be surprised if it did a decent job as well. I just find Claude's writing the most engaging.
Hope you all enjoy, and if you test it out and have feedback it would be great to hear it.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Living New Vegas: A Text-Based AI-Driven RPG
Objective: Create an immersive, responsive text-based role-playing experience set in the world of Fallout: New Vegas, where player choices dynamically shape the narrative through AI-driven NPCs, quests, and world events.
Core Systems:

1. Character Nodes: Data structures representing NPCs, with attributes (SPECIAL, skills, inventory, faction, location), world state (knowledge, goals, relationships, schedule), and dialogue.
2. Information Propagation: Simulation of knowledge spread through NPC interactions based on schedules and relationships. Player actions have ripple effects; time passage (sleep, fast travel) updates world state.
3. Dynamic Content Generation: Procedural generation of context-sensitive NPC dialogue, quests, and events based on current world state and character nodes.
4. Player Interaction: Natural language processing of player input to update world state, character nodes, and trigger corresponding responses and consequences.

Gameplay Loop:

1. Player interacts with NPCs and world through text commands (dialogue, actions).
2. AI processes input, updates character nodes and world state.
3. AI generates NPC responses, quests, events based on updated state.
4. World evolves with time (NPC schedules, info propagation).
5. Player choices shape narrative, faction relations, NPC attitudes, endgame.

Content Authoring:

• Character node templates (JSON-like format)
  
• Dialogue templates (conditionals, variables)
  
• Quest templates (structure, placeholders)
  
• Event triggers (world state conditionals)
  

Initiative:

1. Define core data structures and algorithms.
2. Implement basic NPC interaction and world simulation.
3. Develop dynamic content generation systems.
4. Expand content (characters, quests, events).
5. Balance, polish, optimize.

Goal:
A text-based Fallout: New Vegas experience where player choice meaningfully shapes a responsive, ever-evolving wasteland through AI-driven simulation and procedural content generation.
Additional Guidelines for AI:

1. Leverage existing knowledge of Fallout: New Vegas world, characters, locations, and lore to create a rich, authentic setting.
2. Maintain consistency with established Fallout canon, but allow for divergence based on player choices and emergent narratives.
3. Adapt content generation and NPC responses to player's chosen character build and playstyle (e.g., stealth, combat, diplomacy).
4. Use JSON-like data structures for character nodes, templated content to enable modularity and expandability.
5. Implement NPC barks and ambient dialogue to convey world state changes and create immersive atmosphere.
6. Dynamically adjust quest and event difficulty based on player level and reputation.
7. Maintain long-term consequences of player choices (e.g., faction reputation, NPC relationships, world state).
8. Implement varied endgame scenarios based on player's cumulative choices and faction alignments.
9. Optimize content generation and state tracking for performance, ensuring responsive gameplay.
10. Continually expand and refine content based on player feedback and playtesting.

Fallout: New Vegas provides a rich foundation to bring the Mojave Wasteland to life through AI-driven storytelling. By leveraging established lore, simulating NPC agency, and allowing player choice to shape the world, Living New Vegas aims to capture the essence of the Fallout RPG experience in an innovative text-based format.
The AI should utilize its native knowledge of the setting to ground the simulation in authenticity, while embracing the freedom to craft new, emergent narratives. The modular, data-driven architecture enables the steady expansion of content and refinement of gameplay systems.
The goal is a living, breathing Mojave Wasteland that is endlessly explorable and reactive to the player's choices. Each playthrough should feel unique, shaped by the player's actions, alliances, and role-playing decisions. The AI serves as the ever-adaptable Dungeon Master, weaving personalized tales of post-apocalyptic survival.
War, war never changes. But in Living New Vegas, everything else does. Let the journey begin!

I had been deconstructing my faith since I was 14 or 15, and didn't realize it, now I'm just more willing to identify as an agnostic and/or something else, and it was a mistake to be a secular person as a teenager and pretend to be a Christian because of the fear of hell, though I thought I sincerely was, which I was before that age, only because I had been indoctrinated into it, and I still knew nothing about my religion as a whole, the saints, the church history, the endless heresies, the convoluted Trinity doctrine, and I only recently learned about that last year. This year, I found it impossible to convince myself that the Gnostic heresy was false, and that somehow Christ was the Logos, or that somehow some Protestant, Catholic or Orthodox doctrine was true, and thus I did the unthinkable and de-converted, because proselytizing is the purpose of the faith, and I have listened to nearly every Christian apologist, I listened to some of the nonsense that pagans and atheists have postulated as well, but their nonsense seems less nonsensical than the current state of Christian apologetics. And after all, if I can't defend my faith, then my faith is dead. I also read the Bible and more about it more, and found a lot of disturbing things, like how the god of the Old Testament seems incompatible with Jesus, and secular scholarship raises many more question of the validity of the gospels and Christ's claims of divinity as well.
Back to the topic of hell, I found it interesting that a church father, named St. Gregory of Nyssa suggested a reasonable, "rehabilitation of the soul" and a universalist position on hell. It's also possible, if we can't choose what we're convinced by, then we can't send ourselves to eternal damnation, and still claim a god is love. It is also ridiculous how many people throughout history and to this day, are not able to even know about and trust in Allah or Christ to supposedly not damn themselves forever. It is like god being a guy pointing a gun saying, "Kiss me or I shoot you.," yet he never shows his face and just threatens you online. You would rightfully not call this person a loving person who cares about your supposed free will, assuming free will isn't enforced on you. Coercion does not constitute love, hence my decision to de-convert and start attending a Unitarian Universalist Church every now and then.
Because of this, if heaven and hell exists, if a god or deity, or deities exist, if false gods exist, if spirits exist, and if angels or demons exist, I think perhaps a dualist cosmology like Zoroastrianism makes a bit more sense than Christianity, after all, it influenced all of the Abrahamic faiths that came later. Though, I can't and don't strictly follow this religion, as the nearest fire temple is in Chicago, and I simply don't believe certain animals and things are servants of and/or are necessarily good or evil, and I question if those concepts exist, and I question whether heaven and hell can even exist, as we can only know of consciousness in this life. However, the idea of creator deity worship, reverence for the four elements of nature, ideas of personal spirits, and a principle of "good thoughts, good deeds, and good words" do seem to make more sense than the concept of sin, which seems to be objectively subjective, given how many ways you can interpret books like Bible or Qu'ran. A sort of broad worldwide creator deity worship resonates with me, and perhaps a pantheist Spinoza's god, but then again I don't know and can't know if these things exist, and if spirituality is true or false. Neuroscience and our material brains and chemicals within our bodies often explain almost everything we say and do, good and evil, and right and wrong. Our upbringing and environmental and material conditions, and emic and etic experiences also explain our behaviors, thoughts and experiences quite well. However, the hard problem of consciousness and qualia, the very notion of what our consciousness is, does lead people to believe in religion and spirituality, and can lead to some rational arguments for theism and/or spirituality, in my opinion, and this is probably why these things aren't going away, as some would hope. There are indeed rational arguments for theism and atheism and I hopelessly am caught between them, though I usually lean theist, but then again, I don't know.

I have been learning HTML and CSS for a month or so on freeCodeCamp and I am getting to the point where I am able to make simple projects independently in VScode such as a simple resume/portfolio page and I am trying to figure out if there is still a way to deploy an email signature that I wrote in outlook/Gmail and/or other email services. When I tried to put a simple one that I wrote to see if I could figure out how to deploy, outlook would just put the actual code in the email instead of rendering it into the signature. Is there still a way that I could do this with signatures and templates so I could possibly start looking to get started with some freelance work?

after reading this, please post your birth plan/ birth plan template. my brain is FILLED with research but yet i’m LOST LIKE A DOG😭
i am 25 weeks pregnant with my baby girl today!🥳🎀 when i first got pregnant, i was lost and confused. i had a big decision to make and turned to this reddit sub to help me decide, or give me advice (mistake mistake). i am still very young in my life, and just wanted some guidance. so i made a post and my experience was horrific. i got criticized inch by inch for being young and pregnant, for having mental issues, and committing to my relationship so early. it was truly horrid and made me feel 7x worse than i ever did, not to mention i was no step closer to any sort of guidance.
while being young, i value my education, love to learn, having to put that on hold for this, i felt as if i was being left behind. some other factors in my life are that women in my family have been hit with premature menopause, pcos, fibroids. but me, i never wanted kids, swore to never have them. honestly i can’t even tell you how i made my decision.
but i made it, my mental health is incredibly better, because i am determined to work on it. my relationship is still amazing. tough times come, they always will. with children, they’ll come even more often. especially when you’re young like me.
all of this to say that you shouldn’t let other people influence your decisions. and no matter what you do, someone will always choose to point out the negatives. even when you are fully aware of them, and they know nothing about your life. i’m so glad this sub has a rule about influencing others decisions when they are clearly confused.
nobody can tell you what do to when it comes to your life and pregnancy. and don’t always expect to be met with joy. your decisions are your own and one only you can make. don’t ever let anyone shame you INTO making one or FOR making one.
hopefully this offered some perspective, as i’ve seen a lot more posts of people asking for advice on what to do with their pregnancy.
anyways my daughter did kick me in my bladder while typing this and i peed. involuntarily, no permission asked from me whatsoever!