I recently got my friend into WoW SOD. He's never played WoW or an MMO since we played maplestory as kids. Long story short, he's been playing for 2 months, loves the game and is addicted. He likes the atmosphere, systems, pacing, and progression of classic SoD. He loves to raid log and pvp.
Naturally, because he liked SOD so much, i got him to try MoP remix and we didn't last more than 30 min. He hated it. The graphics, the quests, the progression all turned him off immediately. SoD phase 3 is pretty dead rn so we're just catching up, leveling alts, and prepping for phase 4.
I mentioned cata classic is out there and its kind of a mix between retail and classic but the mention of retail turned him off. Cata was the expansion I no-lifed when i was a kid, and I'm willing to play, but am wondering if it's right for him. If i remember correctly, quests and map were redesigned in cata, and graphics were changed in MoP so I think he'll still feel vanilla vibes in cata.
Obviously we won't know until we try but these things are such a big time investment I want to measure the pros and cons.

“39. Select the appropriate term for the following definition: ‘the entry of covered merchandise into the customs territory of the United States for consumption by means of any document or electronically transmitted data or information, written or oral statement, or act that is material and false, or any omission that is material, and that results in any cash deposit or other security or any amount of applicable antidumping or countervailing duties being reduced or not being applied with respect to the covered merchandise.’
A. Convection
B. Evasion
C. Investigation
D. Allegation
E. Invasion”
We’re looking for a definition related to AD/CVD so let’s look at 19 CFR 165’s definitions:
§ 165.1 Definitions.
As used in this part, the following terms will have the meanings indicated unless either the context in which they are used requires a different meaning or a different definition is prescribed for a particular section of this part:
Allegation. The term “allegation” refers to a filing with CBP under § 165.11 by an interested party that alleges an act of evasion by an importer of AD/CVD orders.
AD. The term “AD” refers to antidumping duty, consistent with section 736, Tariff Act of 1930, as amended (19 U.S.C. 1673e).
AD/CVD. The term “AD/CVD” refers to antidumping/countervailing duty, as these terms are defined in this section.
Covered merchandise. The term “covered merchandise” means merchandise that is subject to a CVD order issued under section 706, Tariff Act of 1930, as amended (19 U.S.C. 1671e), and/or an AD order issued under section 736, Tariff Act of 1930, as amended (19 U.S.C. 1673e).
CVD. The term “CVD” refers to countervailing duty, consistent with section 706, Tariff Act of 1930, as amended (19 U.S.C. 1671e).
Enter or entry. The terms “enter” and “entry” refer to the entry for consumption, or withdrawal from warehouse for consumption, of merchandise in the customs territory of the United States, see § 101.1 of this chapter, or to the filing with CBP of the necessary documentation to withdraw merchandise from a duty-deferral program in the United States for exportation to Canada or Mexico or for entry into a duty-deferral program in Canada or Mexico, see §§ 141.0a(f) and 181.53 of this chapter.
Evade or evasion. The terms “evade” and “evasion” refer to the entry of covered merchandise into the customs territory of the United States for consumption by means of any document or electronically transmitted data or information, written or oral statement, or act that is material and false, or any omission that is material, and that results in any cash deposit or other security or any amount of applicable antidumping or countervailing duties being reduced or not being applied with respect to the covered merchandise.
Interested party. The term “interested party” in this part refers only to the following:
(1) A foreign manufacturer, producer, or exporter, or any importer (not limited to importers of record and including the party against whom the allegation is brought), of covered merchandise or a trade or business association a majority of the members of which are producers, exporters, or importers of such merchandise;
(2) A manufacturer, producer, or wholesaler in the United States of a domestic like product;
(3) A certified union or recognized union or group of workers that is representative of an industry engaged in the manufacture, production, or wholesale in the United States of a domestic like product;
(4) A trade or business association a majority of the members of which manufacture, produce, or wholesale a domestic like product in the United States;
(5) An association a majority of the members of which is composed of interested parties described in paragraphs (2), (3), and (4) of this definition with respect to a domestic like product; or,
(6) If the covered merchandise is a processed agricultural product, as defined in 19 U.S.C. 1677(4)(E), a coalition or trade association that is representative of any of the following: processors; processors and producers; or processors and growers.
Investigation. The term “investigation” refers to the CBP administrative process described in subpart C of this part, and is a formal investigation within the meaning of section 592(c)(4), Tariff Act of 1930, as amended (19 U.S.C. 1592(c)(4)).
Parties to the investigation. The phrase “parties to the investigation” means the interested party (or interested parties, in the case of consolidation pursuant to § 165.13) who filed the allegation of evasion and the importer (or importers, in the case of consolidation pursuant to § 165.13) who allegedly engaged in evasion. In the case of investigations initiated based upon a request from a Federal agency, parties to the investigation only refers to the importer or importers who allegedly engaged in evasion, and not the Federal agency.
Regulations and Rulings. The term “Regulations and Rulings” means the Executive Director, Regulations and Rulings, Office of Trade, or his or her designee.
TRLED. The term “TRLED” refers to the Trade Remedy Law Enforcement Directorate, Office of Trade, that conducts the investigation of alleged evasion under this part, and that was established as required by section 411 of the EAPA.
The answer is B – evasion.

I’ve worked at my company for about a year and a half, in person. I’m in an entry level role in a tiny department that does not have any upwards movement. Recently, a new position in a different department opened up, 100% remote, and it was entry level but has all the opportunity for it to be a career-starting position.
I work closely with the manager & director of that department and we have a great working relationship. The manager told me well in advance about this position opening up on her team, and actively encouraged me to apply. I did, and she helped me out a ton during the process - she made sure I had the interview questions in advance, she gave me tips to impress the director, she told me repeatedly that she really wants me on her team and was confident I’d get the job. I had 2 interviews for the job.
Well….found out yesterday I did not get the job. They hired an external candidate over me. They said she had “just a little more experience in this department” than me - which shouldn’t really matter, it’s an entry level role.
I feel so led on and disappointed. One of the girls on that team that I’m very close with was so angry on my behalf, we were all so so confident I was getting this job. I seriously had it in the bag….I thought.
The biggest downside is that I’m moving out of state soon, and the manager knows this. I wanted this job so bad so that I could have the opportunity to start down a real career path, and the job was 100% remote, so I could’ve stayed with the company after I moved. I’m constantly told what a valuable and amazing employee I am….but now they’re going to lose me completely once I move.
Disappointed is an understatement. I’m going through the stages of grief, honestly, after having this job dangled in front of me for so long and being led on by the manager. I’m angry and upset. And now I have to start from scratch all over again once I move. I really really like my company and didn’t want to leave, but it is what it is I guess.
Just wanted to rant to internet strangers that would probably relate to this. Thanks for reading.

Taken from: https://www.theringer.com/movies/2024/5/21/24161120/greatest-movie-car-chase-scenes-ranked-furiosa-mad-max-saga
In honor of the imminent ‘Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,’ we’re shifting into high gear to determine the best chase scene in cinema history
By Miles Surrey May 21, 2024, 6:30am EDTGetty Images/Ringer illustration
After wowing audiences with Mad Max: Fury Road, director George Miller returns to the franchise’s post-apocalyptic wastelands for Furiosa, the epic origin story of the eponymous heroine (now played by Anya Taylor-Joy), premiering on Friday. As the follow-up to one of the greatest action films ever made, it’s hard to overstate the hype for Furiosa, and that was before word got out about a showstopping 15-minute sequence that required nearly 200 stuntpeople and took 78 days to shoot. While Furiosa will have its own distinct flavor, as is true of every Mad Max movie, there’s one thing that unites these projects: intense, jaw-dropping scenes of vehicular mayhem. And what better way to honor the franchise than by celebrating what it does best?
Ahead of Furiosa’s release, we’ve put together our definitive ranking of the best car chases in cinema. There weren’t any strict rules in place, other than capping the list at 20—mostly for my own sanity—and limiting every franchise to one entry. (Apologies to Fury Road’s kickass predecessor The Road Warrior.) We also won’t discriminate against scenes that feature motorbikes, so long as cars (and/or trucks) remain part of the equation. As for what, exactly, constitutes a good car chase? Like list making, it’s bound to be subjective, but I tend to gravitate toward two key elements: the skill of the stuntwork on display and the ways in which a filmmaker conveys the action in relation to the story. (Also, the less CGI, the better.) Buckle up, ’cause we’re not wasting any time shifting into high gear.

20. Quantum of Solace (2008)

There have been some memorable car chases in the James Bond franchise: the first sequence featuring the iconic Aston Martin DB5 in Goldfinger, the corkscrew jump in The Man With the Golden Gun, the Lotus Esprit submarine in The Spy Who Loved Me. But I’m going with a somewhat controversial pick here: Quantum of Solace. There are many issues with Quantum of Solace—namely, it was one of the most high-profile blockbusters affected by the 2007-08 writers strike—but its opening scene isn’t one of them. Picking up right where Casino Royale left off, we find Bond (Daniel Craig) evading henchmen through the narrow roads around Italy’s Lake Garda. The frenetic, furious chase mirrors Bond’s sense of anguish after losing Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), the woman he opened his heart to, and his relentless quest for answers. It’s a thrilling tone-setter for Quantum of Solace and one that doesn’t overstay its welcome, capped off by Bond sending his final pursuers flying off a cliff:
If we’re being honest, though, it feels like James Bond has yet to create a franchise-defining car chase. Perhaps that’s a mission the newest 007, whoever it ends up being, can undertake.

19. Mission: Impossible—Rogue Nation (2015)

The Mission: Impossible franchise is no stranger to electrifying chase scenes, the best of which find Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt working up his heart rate. When it comes to action behind the wheel, though, Fallout tends to dominate the discussion—even on this very website. But I think the vehicular chase in Rogue Nation is being slept on. What we have is effectively two sequences for the price of one: The first finds Hunt pursuing Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) by car through the narrow streets of Casablanca alongside some nefarious henchmen; the second sees him continue the chase outside the city on motorbike. (Adding to the chaos: Hunt had only just been resuscitated, and he’s clearly not all there.) In terms of death-defying stunts for the audience’s entertainment, a helmetless Cruise taking corners like a MotoGP racer is child’s play compared to his other exploits, but the actor’s authentic reaction to scraping his knee on the road underlines that there’s no one else in Hollywood doing it like him:
We’ll be sure to update this ranking if and when Cruise does something even more dangerous down the road, pun unintended.

18. Vanishing Point (1971)

A movie that counts the likes of Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino among its biggest fans, Vanishing Point is the first of a few entries on this ranking that’s essentially one extended car chase. The film stars Barry Newman as Kowalski, a man tasked with delivering a Dodge Challenger T 440 Magnum from Colorado to California while eluding police across four states. One of Kowalski’s most memorable run-ins comes when a guy driving a Jaguar E-Type convertible challenges him to an impromptu race. Incredibly, we’re expected to believe the man in the Jag comes out of this crash in one piece:
Vanishing Point might not boast the impressive production values of other movies on this list, but considering Tarantino would go on to feature a white Challenger in Death Proof, its influence in the car cinema canon is undeniable.

17. Fast Five (2011)

Let’s face it, Fast & Furious has seen better days. Some believe the franchise’s dip in quality coincided with the death of Paul Walker; others are dismayed by the pivot from street racing to absurd feats of superherodom—emphasis on the Dom. Perhaps it’s a bit of both, but the very best movie in the series, Fast Five, manages to strike the perfect balance: It’s a relatively grounded heist thriller that nevertheless takes the franchise to ridiculous new heights. After Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his crew steal $100 million from a Brazilian kingpin, they drag the entire bank vault holding the money through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, all while being pursued by authorities. It’s a delightfully destructive sequence that does untold damage to Rio’s infrastructure and features some of the most bone-crunching crashes committed to film:
If the Fast franchise is going to break out of its recent slump, it would do well to remember that there’s nothing better than letting its heroes live their lives a quarter mile at a time—no detours to outer space required.

16. The Blues Brothers (1980)

A good car chase isn’t reserved just for action flicks: Comedies can get in on the act, too. In The Blues Brothers, starring the recurring Saturday Night Live characters played by John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, the beloved bandmates must prevent the foreclosure of the orphanage where they were raised by scrounging together $5,000. Naturally, that’s easier said than done: Along the way, the Blues Brothers draw the attention of neo-Nazis, a country-and-western band, and local police. While The Blues Brothers has amusing gags and musical numbers, its chase sequences with the Brothers behind the wheel of a 1974 Dodge Monaco are what really steal the show—and none are better than a climactic pursuit across Chicago. More than 60 old police cars were used in the film, some of which are wrecked in a comically over-the-top pileup:
The sheer scale of The Blues Brothers’ final set piece is commendable in and of itself—as is the movie’s commitment to treating real-life cars like a bunch of Hot Wheels.

15. Baby Driver (2017)

For good and for ill, Edgar Wright’s movies exude an abundance of style, and Baby Driver is no exception. Baby Driver is centered on a clever gimmick: The action works in tandem with its soundtrack because the film’s protagonist, Baby (Ansel Elgort), suffers from tinnitus and constantly plays music to drown out the ringing. When everything’s clicking into place, Baby Driver feels like a supersized series of music videos, and nothing hits quite like its opening sequence. Baby acts as the getaway driver for a bank robbery while listening to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s “Bellbottoms.” The ensuing chase works around rhythms of the song, as if Baby’s Subaru WRX were the star of its own dance number. Take nothing away from the actual driving, either, which puts the rally car to good use:
Baby Driver’s gimmick stretches a little thin by the end, but it’s hard to deny the crowd-pleasing power of Wright’s film when it’s firing on all cylinders.

14. The Raid 2 (2014)

With a trio of kickass Indonesian martial arts films under his belt, Gareth Evans has established himself as one of the most exciting action directors on the planet—someone who seems most in his element staging positively brutal hand-to-hand combat. In The Raid 2, however, Evans also brought his signature brand of carnage to the road. While there’s some cleverly executed close-quarters fighting within the confines of an SUV, courtesy of Iko Uwais’s hard-hitting protagonist, what really cements this sequence’s greatness are the moments when Evans turns the cars into an extension of the characters’ fists:
This belongs in an entirely new category of combat: car fights. There are so many action scenes in The Raid 2 worth writing home about—the kitchen showdown is an all-timer—but the fact that Evans casually tossed in an unforgettable car chase shows why he’s one of one.

13. The Driver (1978)

I’ll say this for Walter Hill’s The Driver: It sure lives up to its title. In this stripped-down thriller—one where none of the characters have a name—we follow the Driver (Ryan O’Neal), a getaway driver who has become a thorn in the side of the LAPD. In the film’s best scene, we see its taciturn protagonist living up to his reputation. With the Driver behind the wheel of a 1974 Ford Galaxie, a cat-and-mouse game unfolds when a handful of police cars are hot on his tail. What I love about this sequence is the pared-down nature of it all: The Driver outwits the cops as much as he outraces them. (Though, ironically, that wasn’t entirely by design: As Hill later explained, an accident on the last night of shooting meant they had to cobble together what had already been filmed.) Frankly, you’d never know the difference from the finished article:
If the general vibes of The Driver seem familiar, that’s because it was a major inspiration for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, which just so happened to feature an unnamed protagonist (Ryan Gosling) evading police through the streets of Los Angeles.

12. The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

The shaky-cam style of the Bourne franchise isn’t for everyone—just ask John Woo—but credit where it’s due: These movies know how to deliver a good chase scene. (A friendly reminder that The Bourne Legacy is an underrated gem with an awesome motorbike sequence to boot.) But there’s one Bourne chase that stands above the rest: the Moscow getaway in The Bourne Supremacy. After being wounded by the Russian assassin Kirill (Karl Urban), Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) hijacks a taxi, with both the police and Kirill in hot pursuit. This isn’t the kind of sequence that lingers on any one shot; instead, what makes it work is the frenetic nature of the editing, which allows the viewer to feel like they’re in Bourne’s fight-or-flight headspace:
If I’m being honest, I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like the Bourne movies’ shaky-cam style, but when it’s executed with such craftsmanship, you can’t help but get caught up in its adrenaline-pumping power.

11. The Seven-Ups (1973)

Philip D’Antoni was the producer of two movies featuring Hall of Fame car chases, Bullitt and The French Connection, the latter of which won him an Oscar for Best Picture. And with his lone directorial feature, The Seven-Ups, D’Antoni sought to craft an iconic sequence of his own. The film stars Roy Scheider as NYPD detective Buddy Mannuci (elite Italian American name; I can practically smell the gabagool), who commands a unit handling major felony cases that lead to seven-plus-year prison sentences; that’s why they’re known as the Seven-Ups. Midway through the movie, when one of the team members is killed by two shooters who flee the scene, Buddy chases after them. The 10-minute sequence, which starts in the Upper West Side before moving out of the city, is thrillingly immersive, alternating between close-ups of the characters and wider shots of all the damage they’ve caused. But the chase’s defining moment comes right at the end, when Buddy narrowly avoids a grisly death:
The sequence isn’t quite at the level of Bullitt or The French Connection—very few are—but D’Antoni still manages to leave an unmistakable imprint on the car chase canon.

10. Death Proof (2007)

If you ask Quentin Tarantino, Death Proof, his knowingly trashy tribute to exploitation cinema, is the worst movie he’s ever made. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot to admire about the film, which honors the unsung heroes of Hollywood: stunt performers. The first half of Death Proof follows three female friends who cross paths with Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a misogynistic serial killer who takes them out in his “death-proof” Chevy Nova. Fourteen months later, a group that includes stuntwoman Zoë Bell, playing herself, also lands on Mike’s radar. As Bell and her friends test out a ’70s Challenger, she performs a “ship’s mast” stunt, clinging onto the hood of the car with fastening belts. Unfortunately, when Mike pursues the women, it puts Bell in a precarious situation. Most of the entries on this list celebrate some next-level driving skills, but Death Proof’s inclusion is all about Bell pulling off one of the wildest stunts you’ll ever see. She’s quite literally hanging on for dear life:
If the Academy handed out Oscars to stunt performers—and let’s hope it does happen one day—Bell would’ve won in a landslide.

9. To Live and Die in L.A. (1985)

William Friedkin was already responsible for an all-time great car chase in The French Connection (more on that later), but the filmmaker made a commendable bid to outdo himself with To Live and Die in L.A. In this neo-noir thriller, Secret Service agent Richard Chance (William L. Petersen) is hell-bent on arresting an expert counterfeiter, Rick Masters (Willem Dafoe), who kills Chance’s partner days before his retirement. To capture Masters, Chance and his new partner, John Vukovich (John Pankow), attempt to steal $50,000 from a jewelry buyer for an undercover operation. The sting goes bad when the buyer, who is later revealed to be an undercover FBI agent, is killed and a group of gunmen goes after Chance and Vukovich. It’s a clever inversion of the usual car chase formula—this time, it’s the lawmen running away from the criminals. The outside-the-box thinking extends to the film’s most astonishing stretch, in which Chance evades the gunmen by driving into oncoming traffic:
The fact that Friedkin shot the chase at the end of filming—in case anything disastrous happened to the actors—underscores just how risky the endeavor was. The pulse-pounding results speak for themselves.

8. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)

The Matrix sequels have never been held in high esteem, but I’m ready to live my truth: The Matrix Reloaded fucking rules. (If anyone’s got a problem with this take, file your complaints with the Architect.) What’s more, the film happens to boast the finest action set piece of the franchise: the highway chase. After Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) free the Keymaker (Randall Duk Kim), a program capable of creating shortcuts within the Matrix, they’re pursued by the Twins (Neil and Adrian Rayment). Morpheus once warned that going on the freeway was “suicide,” and it doesn’t take long to see why: The chase draws the attention of several Agents, who repeatedly take over the bodies of other drivers on the road. The scene is the best of both worlds: There’s some incredible stuntwork on display, including when Moss weaves around on a Ducati, and CGI augments some feats of superhuman strength. But the most jaw-dropping aspect of the sequence is how it came together, as the production spent $2.5 million to construct its own highway (!) on California’s Alameda Island. If that weren’t unique enough, I’m pretty sure Reloaded is also the only movie in existence in which a katana takes out an SUV:
The Matrix remains the Wachowskis’ masterpiece, but don’t get it twisted: The filmmakers were still cooking with gas in the sequel.

7. Gone in 60 Seconds (1974)

Size isn’t everything, but for H. B. Halicki, who produced, wrote, directed, and starred in Gone in 60 Seconds, it’s certainly part of the package. The indie action flick follows Maindrian Pace (Halicki), a Los Angeles insurance investigator who has a lucrative side hustle jacking high-end cars. The plot kicks into motion when a South American drug lord enlists Pace to nab 48 cars within five days in exchange for $400,000. Of course, Gone in 60 Seconds is best known for what happens after Pace is caught stealing a 1973 Ford Mustang Mach 1, when he leads police on a chase that lasts a whopping 40 minutes. (More than 90 cars were destroyed in the process.) Halicki, for his part, did all the driving himself, including a spectacular jump off a makeshift ramp of crashed cars:
While Halicki wound up making a few more indies after Gone in 60 Seconds, he died in an accident on the set of its sequel. His legacy as a do-it-all daredevil, however, lives on.

6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

Long before James Cameron immersed himself in the world of Pandora, he was a pioneer of state-of-the-art visual effects. Case in point: Terminator 2: Judgment Day is credited for having the first CGI character in a blockbuster, the T-1000 (Robert Patrick), a killing machine composed of a futuristic liquid metal. But Cameron also understood that the CGI of that era shouldn’t be the main attraction: It worked best as a complement to the practical effects, as seen in Judgment Day’s epic viaduct chase. When the T-1000 tracks down a young John Connor (Edward Furlong) in a shopping mall, he’s saved at the last minute by the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), giving John a chance to escape on his dirt bike. As the T-1000 gives chase, the David and Goliath vibes between man and machine are further epitomized by the T-1000’s commandeering of a truck. The sequence already has a terrifying sense of urgency, but it hits another level when the T-1000 crashes through the viaduct like the Kool-Aid Man:
Big Jim is still revolutionizing what can be achieved with visual effects in the Avatar franchise, and while I cherish those movies, nothing beats his old-school showmanship.

5. Duel (1971)

The feature-length debut of Steven Spielberg—perhaps you’ve heard of him—the TV movie Duel is essentially one extended chase sequence between salesman David Mann (Dennis Weaver) and a sinister trucker determined to drive him off the road. I’ve attached a clip from the ending of the film, but that doesn’t do Duel justice. What cements this movie’s greatness is how it sustains an unbearable level of tension across its 90-minute running time—with a budget under $500,000, no less. Spielberg’s masterstroke is never once showing us the other driver, anthropomorphizing the truck itself as a monster. (You can see a lot of similarities with how he would build suspense in Jaws.) When Mann finally gets the upper hand, tricking his adversary into driving off a cliff, it feels like you can breathe again:
Spielberg would move on to bigger and better things after Duel, but considering how much the director accomplished with so little, you can’t help but wonder what else he could conjure up with limited resources.

4. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Like Duel, Fury Road is basically one long car chase—the difference is Miller got to work with a blockbuster budget, and made every cent of it count. It’s hard to pick a single standout sequence in Fury Road, but if I had to choose, I’d go with the first attack on the War Rig after Furiosa (Charlize Theron) flees with the wives of Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). Here’s why: Think back to when you saw Fury Road for the first time, before you fully grasped the vehicular carnage that was in store. And then stuff like this kept happening:
To quote Steven Soderbergh’s thoughts on Fury Road: “I don’t understand how they’re not still shooting that film and I don’t understand how hundreds of people aren’t dead.” Whether or not Miller manages to one-up the action in Furiosa, the director is already in the pantheon.

3. The French Connection (1971)

We return to the Friedkin-verse for what may be his best film, The French Connection, the crime thriller based on Robin Moore’s 1969 nonfiction book of the same name. The story concerns two NYPD detectives, Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy “Cloudy” Russo (Roy Scheider), and their tireless pursuit of a French heroin smuggler. But while there’s plenty to admire about how The French Connection illustrates the thin line between police and criminals, its greatest claim to fame is its car chase. After Popeye narrowly survives a sniper attack, he goes after the shooter, who escapes on an elevated train. The ensuing sequence is true daredevil filmmaking that Friedkin shot without permits, leading to real crashes with New Yorkers that made the final cut. But Friedkin’s finest touch was mounting a camera to the front of the car, making the audience feel like they’re part of the action:
My Ringer colleague Justin Sayles believes The French Connection’s chase should’ve landed at no. 1, and I’m sure many folks will agree with him. Being the only film on this list to win Best Picture, however, is a solid consolation prize.

2. Bullitt (1968)

When it comes to modern car chases, all roads lead back to Bullitt. A Dad Cinema classic, the film stars Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt, a San Francisco detective who pursues a group of mobsters after a key witness is killed in protective custody. In his search for answers, Bullitt realizes he’s being tailed by a couple of hitmen, and then turns the tables on them. From there, the chase is on. Aside from McQueen doing most of his own stunts behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang GT 390 Fastback, what’s so impressive about the sequence is how timeless it is. Even the little imperfections, like hubcaps repeatedly coming off the wheels, work to the film’s advantage, stressing just how much these drivers are living on a razor’s edge. It’s been more than 50 years since Bullitt revolutionized the car chase, and yet few movies since have felt like they’re pushing the envelope to such an exhilarating degree:
That the car driven by McQueen was recently sold at auction for $3.74 million, a then-record price for a Mustang, underlines Bullitt’s enduring legacy.

1. Ronin (1998)

“If I’m going to do a car chase,” filmmaker John Frankenheimer said in an interview with the American Society of Cinematographers, “I’m going to do a car chase that’s going to make somebody think about whether or not they want to do another one!” Boy, did he ever. In Frankenheimer’s late-career masterpiece, Ronin, the director actually incorporated several chases, but it’s the climactic sequence that stands alone as the greatest ever filmed. The movie concerns an international group of mercenaries who are hired to steal a mysterious briefcase; a series of double-crosses and double-bluffs ensue. But for the final chase, all you need to know is that Sam (Robert De Niro), a mercenary with ties to the CIA, is in pursuit of Deirdre (Natascha McElhone), an IRA operative in possession of the case. Winding through the streets and tunnels of Paris, what’s most striking is just how fluid it all feels. You’re completely engrossed in the chase’s forward momentum, captured from every conceivable angle; a symphony of controlled chaos. The driving styles even reflect the characters: Deirdre is reckless and impulsive, while Sam remains calm and controlled.
There are many worthy car chases in this ranking, but in my view, Ronin takes pole position. And while I can’t imagine a movie ever topping what Frankenheimer achieved, I’d love nothing more than to be proved wrong.

First Chapter. Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
They made for the hillock that Rene had seen earlier that day. It was the closest bit of high ground they had seen, and it had hatched the beginnings of a cruel idea in his mind, one that he wished to turn into reality.
“Stay close to me,” he told Zildiz as they strode, “We stand a better chance of living through this if we act as a unit.”
“A unit of what?” she inquired, puzzled by his use of the word, “Weight, length or time?”
“No, it means that we should work together,” he tried to explain, quickening his pace to a light jog. The hunting parties had gone silent—they hadn’t the talk of their drums in ages. The quiet was somehow more unnerving than the screams.
“We watch each other’s backs,” he continued, running along a fallen log, “It’s a sort of code we Pathfinders have. No man or woman dies alone.”
Try telling that to Lethway, said a snide voice in his head.
“I have no wish to die alongside you, Fleet-man.”
“That’s not what I…ah, never mind. Here,” Rene handed her back her severed blades, “As promised.”
How had these people ever managed to survive this long? Zildiz wondered as she held her weapons again, manually sheathing them in her arms. It was like taking sugarcane from a baby.
The fog was thinning noticeably. They had forded the river and reached the base of the hillock when they heard another shout from the southwest, sounding much closer this time. The drums began to speak again, the music almost keeping time with Rene’s triphammering heartbeat. Rene led them round the flank of the rise into a deep gully, trying to use the terrain to hide their movements.
“How’s their sense of smell, Zildiz?” he asked her as they picked their way up a pebbly, bone-dry creek. Rene hopped across the boulders and offered her his arm for assistance.
“Depends on the Leaper and their grafted organs,” she told him, leaping past him and pointedly ignoring his efforts at playing the gentleman, “But they are all excellent trackers. They will find us. It is inevitable.”
“Aye, but we’ll be ready for em by then. Hopefully,” Rene added with certain lack of conviction, “To be frank, I don’t know a power on this earth that can stop that horde we saw earlier.”
“They will not use the creatures of the jungle against us. The warband that is hunting us now cannot be larger than thirty to fifty braves.”
“And you know this how?”
Zildiz said nothing. She was under no obligation to tell a child of the Betrayers of the Vitalus’ capabilities. The more creatures the Leapers involved in this secret hunt, the greater the chances that the Vitalus would discover their violation of the truce. It would be a small and private war, and that suited her down to the ground.
She felt stronger now and surer of her footing, as if the chase had breathed new life into her muscles and lungs. Why, she felt as if she could fight a dozen Leapers. Either her innards had adjusted to the workload or her exomorph was regaining some of its functions. She dashed ahead, rejoicing in the steel-spring action of her sinews. The weak-spined Rene, on the other hand, was dawdling below her in the creek, up to some foolishness as usual.
He had stopped to gather fistfuls of gravel which he stuffed into his socks and pockets until they bulged. He even opened his kit and crammed pebbles in the loose corners of the case.
“Hurry up,” she called to him, speaking softly now that danger was close.
“I’d have to agree with Zildiz here, tovarisch,” Exar chimed in, “Now’s not the best time to be gathering mineral samples.”
Rene shook his head and refused to explain. After some minutes of the uphill marching, he spoke to Exar, saying:
“This high enough for you?”
“Ten more meters above sea level should do it.”
They were almost at the summit of the landmass, in a grove of benguet pines and thin pygmy dipterocarps growing amid a hardscrabble sand. On the right shoulder of the hill were the clusters of fire gourd trees whose seeds he had mistaken for cannon fire, the ground plastered with dried-up foam. Beyond this stretched a scorched and blasted hellscape of blackened, dead trees.
“We don’t have ten more meters,” Rene said, “That is, unless…”
He craned his neck to see the tops of the pines, which had straight smooth trunks and sported no lower limbs to grab onto. Most were stunted and malnourished by the poor soil, but at least one of the adults looked like a good candidate. It would be hard climbing.
“It’s times like these that I wish these commercial kits still came with thruster packs,” Exar said regretfully, “But all those models got phased out. Budget cuts, whatcha gonna do, eh?”
“What’s a thruster pack?”
“Never heard of one? That’s funny,” Exar paused as if he had come to a sudden realization, “That’s real funny, you sayin that…”
Rene unsheathed the monomachete and emptied his kit of all gear except for the panel and the allcomm antenna. He cut out some footholds with the monomachete and began his ascent. Rene nearly made it to the top without making the mistake of looking down. As it was, he risked a peek at Zildiz gawping up at him all the way down there and nearly swooned, his scrotum tightening round his pearls like the jaws of death. He clamped the sword of the ancients between his teeth and bit down hard to steady himself.
“Join the Pathfinders, they said,” he growled around the bare metal, “See the sights and look pretty for the girls, they said. What was I flipping thinking?”
He swung up to the slender upper boughs and carefully wedged the solar panel amid the branches, angling it so that it caught the weakening gaze of the suns. Then he balanced the allcomm antenna and its tripod on the uppermost twigs and hooked up the cabling.
“Good work, bhaisap,” Exar said when it began to rotate, “I’ll start transmitting our coordinates to any and all stations while getting a fix on our position.”
“Splendid. Say, you’ve got some nice sight lines up here, Exar.”
From where he stood Rene could see for leagues around in all directions, and he kept his eyes peeled for movement.
There! Specters gliding above the murk, twenty or so klicks out and moving fast. A hoarse scream from the east confirmed his worst suspicions: the Leapers knew exactly where they were. The cannibals were hemming them in, herding Rene and Zildiz they had done with the army of beasts. He could imagine them spreading out in a wide crescent whose horns would envelop the hill from both sides.
Rene estimated that he had little more than an hour to prepare.
“Exar, could I ask you to be our lookout from up here?”
“Thy wish is my command. A la mi presente, al vostra signori, as they used to say.”
As who used to say? Rene thought. Much of what the sphere said tended to be incomprehensible. Rene unfastened the sphere and Exar extended his spike legs to fix himself in place.
“But wouldn’t it be safer for you to stay up top with me?” Exar pointed out.
“Yes, it would. For them,” Rene replied with as much false bravado as he could dredge up. Scattering pines and bark shavings, he slid back down and ran over to the stand of fire gourds. To his relief some of the fruit on the outlying trees furthest from the blaze had not gone off. Rene reached up and picked as many of the gourds as he could fit in his arms. He carried them back to the pines, making several trips to amass a sizable collection.
Zildiz had her swords out and was cooly sharpening them one against the other.
“So they’ve finally run us down,” she said in a flat tone, “Are you ready?”
“Not quite,” Rene said shortly.
He began the project by arranging his other components. Spool of webbing, check. Socks full of pebbles, check. Gauntlet, check.
“Exar, how much longer till our rescue gets here?” he hollered up at the sphere.
“I’ve hailed a shuttle from one of the toroidal stations. ETA 128 minutes.”
“You’ll have those minutes,” Rene promised him, then spoke to Zildiz, “Heads up, Gallivant. From this moment on, our sole objective is to hold off the enemy for at least two hours. We live or die on this hill. Get me?”
“Brave words. And how do you intend to back them up?”
“With the help of a little friend I call firepower,” Rene said, getting right to work. He wound the silk around one of the sloshing gourds until it was sticky all over, then took fistfuls of gravel from his socks, densely studding the fruit with them. Rene held up the finished prototype and grinned evilly. All in all, it had taken him less than five minutes to put it together.
Defensive tactics required careful selection and preparation of the ground. Half the battle was won if one could dictate where the fighting took place.
Pathfinders were scouts above all else and did not specialize in fighting sieges. Rene tried his best anyway, choosing a spot among the pygmy pines and with a deep ravine on his right and a spread of open ground some twenty meters wide and sixty long on his left where nothing grew but itchy buffalo grasses. At his back was a sheer bluff, only four meters tall or so, but still a solid feature upon which to anchor his defense. He placed the prototype in the center of the field and ran back, going prone behind a shallow bank of earth and taking up his gauntlet.
“Come on,” he pleaded with it, training the beam on the gourd’s hard shell, “Sing for daddy…”
Nothing happened for a long moment. Rene blinked; the gourd had abruptly disappeared. In the next instant, shards of shell and rock and specks of foam lacerated the air above his position, ricocheting off the hard cliff face. Rene clapped his hands to his ringing ears and got up. Inspecting his position, he found the bank of earth studded with his improvised shrapnel and arrowhead-shaped seeds.
“Pop! Goes the weasel!” he shouted, overjoyed by the result, “That ought to ruin someone’s day.”
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

Previous Part
At some Point Bianca and I both fell back asleep. It was all I could do at this point, getting whisked away back to those mines seemed inevitable so I might as well sleep. The morning did not go well, largely due to Bianca, who threw me off the couch with a scream when she woke up.
“What’re you doing!”
Bianca squeaked, hand darting towards her pants pocket where her dagger would usually be. I woke up very quickly somewhere between the couch and the floor. I was fully awake by the time I was pushing myself back to me feet, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender.
“What’s going on?! You’re fine you just fell asleep on my couch!”
“Why were you… why was I?”
“Hey, calm down alright. We had a few drinks last night and I guess we both fell asleep on the couch together, that’s all that happened.”
I explained, leaving out the part where she pulled me back when I tried to go to my own room earlier.
“Yeah… yeah ok. Ugh my head is killing me.”
Bianca groaned, taking a breath or two then putting her head in her hands. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was probably hungover so I just went to the kitchen to make something for her.
I decided on toast and some bananas, it was always a go to for me after a long night. In hindsight I probably should’ve seen her reaction coming. Look at what she did in the caves because that guy grabbed her, it can’t be that much better waking up on someones shoulder and not quite remembering it. The whole thing did give me second thoughts though. If she was such a live wire did I really want her stressing out over the trials and whatever that would bring? I suppose it was too late for that though, she’d already moved herself into my house so she could keep watch, for all the good that did seeing as Shaoni waltzed right in last night.
I still had a lot on my mind when the smell of burning toast sobered me up. I swore and ran over to salvage what I could of the blackening toast.
“What’s burning in here?”
Bianca asked a little worry creeping into her voice. She still had her head clasped firmly between her hands as she walked into the kitchen.
“Breakfast”
I replied flatly, holding my arms out to either side gesturing to the mild chaos I was causing. Bianca gave me an questioning, “thanks” and grabbed the plate I had made for her while I tried to think of what to do next. Like it or not, Shaoni had people coming to pick me up and take me back out to those caves today. I had to come up with some kind of game plan and right now, it seemed letting Frank and Stein know was the best idea.
Bianca stayed back at my place nursing her hangover when I left to visit the mad scientist duo. I had no problem with that, in fact it was probably best because I’m sure she would’ve insisted on going with me if she heard I planed to take Shaoni’s “invitation”. I wasn’t sure if Shaoni would let me take Bianca with me and personally I’d rather not push her buttons and try to negotiate bringing a plus one.
“Have you seen Bianca at all?”
Frank asked hurriedly as I came in. I was afraid of this, She hadn’t told them anything and just disappeared.
“Yeah, she pretty much moved the contents of her room to my couch yesterday. Something about keeping an eye on me, she’s fine though, I wouldn’t worry.”
I answered, a little worried myself that I’d catch hell from them if they knew she was currently working her way through her first hangover on that same couch. Frank seemed to calm down at that and finally got to asking the important questions like why was I back in the house… again.
“So let us get this straight, you just plan to go right to Shaoni?”
Frank and Stein said together in disbelief as the three of us sat at the kitchen table.
“It’s not like I really have a choice in the matter, besides I can’t really fight her if she wants me to go somewhere. If I try a stunt like that things go from bad to worse for me.”
They both shook their heads in solemn agreement, recognizing I was right.
“Anyways, I had a thought on the way over here, Thunderbirds are something from native American legend right? Well, if we’ve found a real one wouldn’t she have ties to a tribe or something in the area? She was sleeping here when they woke her up in the mine, maybe there was a reason for that, maybe she was close to home?”
I explained, hoping g they’d catch on to what I was asking.
“What exactly are you getting at then Keith?”
Frank questioned, furrowing his brow with an intrigued look on his face. Stein just remained silent but I could tell he was thinking, maybe even coming to the same conclusion as I had.
“What I’m thinking, is we check reservations in the area. Maybe they know something about the creature from their legends that just so happened to be sleeping nearby. I know it’s a stretch but maybe we could learn something useful. I’d go myself but I’m not going to have the chance. You guys though, you guys could take Bianca and Rocco with you and ask around.”
I explained, hoping I was onto something. I was pulling at straws but it was the best idea I had at a moments notice. Plus it would get Bianca out of town for a little while when I was figuring out what exactly Shaoni’s trails would mean for me.
“Keith that’s… no that actually makes sense let me check some maps.”
Stein agreed, walking away and into the basement. He came back a few minutes later with a map in his hand.
“There’s a Seneca reservation not to far from here, maybe 30 miles. That’s not the only one but I have a friend there from years ago, someone I helped. There’s a good chance he’d be willing to return the favor.”
“Great, then I’ll count on you. I’ll let Bianca know, I’m sure she won’t be happy about it but I’ll feel better if she’s with all of you.”
I walked out in a rush to get back home, almost stepping on Rocco on my way to the door. He made a frightening chittering hissing sound at me as he leapt out of my path. I briefly wondered where he was going and what he was up to, probably better I didn’t know though. As I got onto the bike and headed back towards home I hoped I’d be able to talk Bianca into going along with this plan. I was sure she’d rather come with me but after this morning I wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Don’t get me wrong I’m sure she wants to help and I know she means well but she’s jumpy and snaps at the littlest things. I didn’t want her to make things worse by accident or get hurt because she froze up again. My mind was made up as I drew nearer to my house but as it turned out I’d never have the chance to talk to Bianca. As soon as I rounded the corner I saw the rusty pick up waiting in front of my house, I’d arrived just in time to meet Shaoni’s “helpers”.
The men looked normal, just like the people in the cave. Come to think of it they could very well be those same people. I waved them over as I came to a stop in-front of the house.
“Can I just go in and grab a few things?”
I asked the three men sheepishly as I walked up.
“No, your late as it is, we’ve got to get going.”
A scruffy looking man with a gruff voice said from the drivers seat. Two men got out from the back of the truck and grabbed my arms, pulling me into the back seat. They weren’t rough with me but they were very firm. Like they wanted to hurt me but were ordered not to so they just made a show of force. After I was loaded into the back I saw the reason for their demeanor. One of the men, the one in the front passenger seat, was wrapped in bandages. The bandages covered his abdomen and snaked up around the back of his neck. It was pretty obvious to me that this was the man Bianca had stabbed. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say these four were probably the same ones we had encountered in the cave. As I turned and looked out the window I saw Bianca’s face peaking out of it. She looked angry and scared, like she knew exactly what was happening but she didn’t move. Bianca just sat there, watching me be taken away and I cursed myself for not being just a little bit faster on the ride back.
We took a way out of town I’d never seen before, turning away from the road leading to the dirt path we had biked down on our expedition into the forest. Instead we drove back through town, past Bianca’s house and the Eagle’s Roost before hanging a right onto a road I’d never been down. Eventually the road made its way into the forest and ended at a wooden sign warning that the road was impassable ahead. The driver stopped the truck and got out as another man emerged from the woods, holding up his hand and opening it to reveal the eagle tattoo I’d become so familiar with. The driver rolled up his sleeve and showed his own similar tattoo. Without a word he got back into the truck and the other man moved the sign off the road. It didn’t fill me with confidence to see the entrance to this place watched in such a way. It would make sense to have it hidden but being so brazenly out in the open meant they didn't really care who saw it. Not that anyone would think anything other than that the road was impassable but still. The truck eventually pulled off the road and into the woods, following a newly made track that lead to the entrance of the old mine that we escaped from just 2 days ago.
“I think you know your way in.”
The driver growled at me, parking the truck and signaling me to step out.
“Your just letting me walk myself in? Couldn’t I just run?”
“You could but do you think you could outrun her?”
He asked threateningly, pointing up at the sky. I knew exactly who he was talking about and no, I didn’t like my chances of running from Shaoni.
“She gave us all orders to leave any runners to her.”
At that moment I decided it may be good idea to be on my best behavior.
“Yeah that’s what I thought.”
The driver barked back at me as I obediently walked towards the entrance.
Walking into the mine I realized it had undergone a huge transformation in a very short time. The walls were now host to several torches that lit the pathway back down to the coliseum. It felt like I was walking into the dark ages as I made my way down into this pit by torchlight. Although I had to admit it was homey in an “evil layer” kind off way. The coliseum was lit up with torchlight as well but its not what drew my attention. Where the awful metal structure met the stone roof of the cave I looked into a brewing storm. Lightning flashed across the roof but there was no sound of thunder. Raindrops shown in the shadows cast by the lightning but I felt none of them on my skin. I had to admit, it was a pretty impressive trick. Paintings adorned the walls, all of them seeming to be tribal in nature. Many seemed to be various depictions of the thunderbird.
“Well at least she doesn’t have an ego”
I chuckled to myself as I walked into the center off the coliseum.
There were four other people waiting in the center of the floor. A clean shaven, well dressed man relaxed against the wall of the arena. He had perfectly trimmed slicked back blonde hair and a chiseled face. His rippling muscles seemed to be for vanity rather than strength. Just by looking at him I could tell I wasn’t going to like him. The only one of the bunch I knew, Robert, stood on the far side of the coliseum, watching me approach. He looked about the same as he had from the brief glance I got at the Eagle’s Roost. Balding white hair and a unkempt beard hung off his sagging face. Despite his age he carried himself with purpose, like he deserved to be there and wanted everyone else to know it. Then there was the blonde bombshell that was making her way towards the chiseled blonde guy. She seemed incredibly confident in herself but none of it was a show. Her confidence came from a place that made her absolutely sure of it. The final person stood in the corner and seemed to be talking to himself. He was a middle aged man of native American descent with a mess of black hair atop his head. He carried a look in his eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond his years.
I walked past all of them and took a seat on the floor, trying my hardest to ignore them. The effort was ultimately wasted as the muscular blonde guy walked over and held out a hand.
“Hey, my names Brooke, you are?”
My blood turned to ice as he said that, it couldn’t be the same Brooke Bianca told me about, could it? I stared dumbly at him for a moment before I responded.
“I’m… uh… Keith. Any idea what we’re doing here?”
“No clue, only know that the thunderbird wanted us here so we came. Hopefully she makes good on her promise, to me at least.”
His voice sounded like the “to cool for you” bully from any 80’s movie, it was almost annoying to listen to him.
“So you’ve met everyone else I take it?”
“Yeah, the weird guy in the corner is John, we don’t know much about him but apparently him and that Robert guy, the old one with the beard, worked for the thunderbird. Katrina, that beauty over there is a wild card, no-one seems to know anything about her but she looks like she’s hot shit and well, just plain hot.”
As Brooke gave me the run down of everyone in the room I quietly wondered to myself if Shaoni had given everyone the same offer as me. The way Brooke had said it, “promise”… that wasn’t how I would’ve phrased it. Maybe Shaoni cut everyone here a unique deal.
“…Anyways, I’m gonna go see if I can’t figure out that bombshell’s deal, I’ll see ya later Keith.”
Apparently Brooke had been talking to me the whole time but I only tuned in for the tail end of it as he walked off toward Katrina. I wondered where exactly Shaoni was, I had expected her to be here already but, as it turned out I wouldn’t have to wait long.
A thunderous boom cracked out above our heads and we all looked up at once, but the sound was coming from outside. I heard the flap of wings as Shaoni came in for a landing somewhere above our heads. It went so silent we could’ve heard a mosquito cough, then Shaoni stepped into the room. Not from either entrance but from a balcony above us I hadn’t seen before. She was wearing the same thing she had been when I ran into her in the cave, once again looking like a hardened, tattooed Pocahontas.
“Welcome everyone! I take it you’ve gotten to know each other?”
She thundered down to us as we all shot to attention.
“I’ve gathered you here to give a gift to one of you, but you must prove yourselves deserving. I’ve told some of you what I intended to do here and others may be hearing it for the first time. So for those of you who are gathering here for the first time pay attention. There will be three trials held here, one to test your morals, one to test your strength, and one to test your judgement.”
At this point Brooke spoke up in the way only a spoiled little shit like him could.
“You made me a promise! You never said anything about trials! I got all the way out here to this shitty little backwater and now your telling me I’ve got to compete to earn what you owe me?! Sorry, but I’m going to need more than that.”
Shaoni looked like she could’ve ended him right there. She was the judge and jury here, if Brooke wasn’t careful she’d become the executioner too.
“What you asked me for is in this town, that’s all I will say on the matter.”
Shaoni responded with less venom than I had expected judging by her expression. She didn’t actually seem to care that she had to tell him something to shut him up. It was the insult of being interrupted that struck a nerve. I was a little concerned by what she said, if he was looking for something that was in town and Bianca was there… could he be looking for her? “…Today though, just enjoy the company of one another. You’re all welcome to stay here at the camp I’ve had prepared for you outside. If you wish to return to town you may but you will be watched. No-one is to leave town until the trials are completed.”
Shaoni finished, I hadn’t really been listening to her welcome speech. She said everything I cared about when she told us what the trials where going to test for, after that I kind of tuned out. Shaoni disappeared in a flash, just like she had back at my house the day before and with that the five of us were alone again. I left, heading back outside to see this camp she mentioned. The others talked with each other but I really had no desire to. That didn’t stop Robert from running to catch up with me, wheezing when he got there.
“Hey you’re the one who ran out of the bar the other night! She’s said a lot about you, I’d almost think she had a favorite.”
Robert huffed out between breaths, punching me in the arm in a friendly but wholly unwelcome way.
“I’ve heard you know nothing about the supernatural, I’d be happy to tell you what I’ve seen working with Shaoni.”
Robert offered, fishing for any reason to hold a conversation with me.
“No, that’s alright really, I’ll manage. What do you guys do anyways, working for her I mean? I get the sense she could really run this whole operation on her own if she wanted.”
“She probably could do this alone. Most of the time we don’t work directly with her, this is a special case for those of us she’s got helping with the trials. There’s maybe 50 of us total and not just here, I mean 50 of us overall. She’s very selective with the followers she keeps so there isn’t many of us. We tend to sit around up-holding her ideals till she asks something of us through dreams, like the ones that brought you here.”
Robert explained, confusing me a little bit. I found it hard to believe a crew of 50 people got everything here done. I guess it wasn’t to outlandish when put in perspective though. If you told me Shaoni got all this done herself I probably would’ve believed you so 50 people organized by her, yeah I could see that.
“Wait, so you guys barley ever actually work with her, and what are her ideals exactly?”
“Have you heard the legends of the thunderbird? A lot of it depicts the thunderbird as a spirit of justice that fights evil spirits from the underworld, that’s really watered down but you get the point. I’ve never seen her do anything like that but she does uphold a certain sense of justice and that’s what she expects of us. Sure, she seems really intimidating but she wants to right wrongs that no one else will, it makes her a little harsh but she has to be. We just do that same thing when we aren’t getting orders right from her. Maybe you think she’s in the wrong here because she pulled you into this but we really want to help, sometimes there’s a price for that.”
Robert lectured, you could tell he really believed in what he was saying though. He may have been older but when he was telling me about the thunderbird and what she stood for he was filled with vigor again. Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, I wanted all these people working for her to be some kind of weird cult like in Imalone. The more I heard the more I doubted that. They were people who followed her for a reason, not just because she gave them some kind of power. In reality I think what she really gave them was purpose. That sort of thing is more than enough for most people to follow someone.
When I broke away from Robert and got outside I found a huge camp had been set up while we were in the cave. Tepees of various sizes had been constructed all around the entrance to the old mine and one big canvas tent had a huge table running through it filled with food. For 50 people these followers of the thunderbird sure worked fast. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to go back to town yet. I hoped Frank and Stein had convinced Bianca to go with them, at least then they could get some answers while I was stuck here. If they were gone though what reason did I have to go back? As long as I was out here surrounded by people who work with Shaoni maybe I could get some answers of my own. I wasn’t really sure what information about Shaoni would do for us but she was a mystery to me. Everyone was here for a reason, I agreed to take on a burden, Brooke was here because of some promise Shaoni made, and I’m sure the rest had similar stories. Shaoni gained nothing from any of that though, besides this burden I had agreed to take. I’m not sure why, but it felt like figuring out what She stood to gain from this was important. If I could do that maybe I could put the pieces to this puzzle together. Two people had pointed out I knew nothing about the supernatural as well, Shaoni and Robert. That didn’t seem to matter to much to me but if all the others here had some experience in it maybe it should. It seemed like we were all on a level playing field though, Brooke hadn’t heard about the trials and neither had I. Robert and that strange John guy probably had some idea but they worked with Shaoni, I would expect them to know. Katrina, the blonde was probably just as surprised as Brooke, if I had to guess. None of us knew exactly what the trials would test for, so why did everyone keep brining up not knowing about the supernatural like it put me at a disadvantage?
“Why indeed.”
A familiar voice said, sending lightning through my veins and breaking my train of thought. I just about tossed the turkey leg I’d been eating directly at the source of the noise.
“Shaoni, you have got to stop doing that.”
I said, crawling back into my skin after she scared me out of it. Shaoni still looked just as she had when she addressed us earlier, adorned in her animal skins and feathers. It took me a second but it finally clicked that she had said something strange when she sat down next to me.
“Hang on a minute, can you read my mind? Was I thinking out loud or something?”
“No, you just looked lost in thought and I figured I’d chime in.”
“Oh, alright… why?”
I squeaked out, abruptly realizing that this was Shaoni, the thunderbird who was sitting next to me. There was a second there where I wasn’t as intimidated by her as I normally was but it had passed quickly.
“I wanted to know how your doing, I know all this can’t be easy to take in.”
“I’m doing fine, I think I’m adjusting pretty well but I did want to ask you some questions.”
An amused look ran across Shaoni’s face at this. She wasn’t being as commanding as before either, she almost seemed to genuinely care about my well-being.
“Would you walk with me, I’ll answer your questions on the way.”
Shaoni asked, standing and waiting for me to follow her. Not seeing any better options I stood up and left alongside her.
We walked around the perimeter of the camp, out of ear shot of anyone else. I’m sure she did that on purpose, though I wasn’t sure if it was so no-one could hear my screams if I asked a question she didn’t like or if she just wanted privacy.
“Why me Shaoni? Why chose me out of everyone, was it just a coincidence?”
“Straight to the point hmm. Think Keith, when I found you in the position you were in you needed my help. Sure, I planned to dispose of the cultists that were threatening you anyways but I stopped to help you. You saw me descend from the sky, swoop down, and bring them to their knees, I extended an offer to you and you just took it. You didn’t bargain or ask for anything more after I shattered your perception of what does and doesn’t exist, just accepted my offer. Most people would have bargained, tried to look for a better deal for themselves but you saw what the price of my help would be and paid it, no second thoughts. That interested me Keith, you recognized what had to be done and didn’t try to avoid the cost, that’s why I chose you.”
“So I appealed to whatever sense of justice you have? That’s it, that’s the only reason?”
She looked almost hurt as I asked this and she stopped walking. I definitely stepped on a nerve, I expected her to snap but she didn’t, She just asked very quietly,
“Do you think I’m a monster Keith?”
I was stunned by the question. Could I really say she was a monster? What had she done so far? Save me, that’s what, was that really so monstrous? Sure it may have come at a cost but nothing is ever free. Shaoni even came to warn me about the trials ahead of time, just barely ahead of time but it was something.
“No Shaoni, you’re not a monster just… someone with the powers you have… it’s terrifying for a normal person. Can you really say I’m in the wrong for being afraid of you?”
Even as I said it I knew it was a lie, at least partially. I wasn’t just afraid of her, I wanted her to be evil and she just wasn’t, not really. Maybe she was a bit intense but everything she had done to me so far couldn’t be called evil.
“Fear is only natural when you see something like me, but I’m not a monster. The thunderbird has always stood for justice. That’s what I represent, I can’t be everywhere but I make it a point to uphold justice where I am. Those who I’ve chosen to follow me hold my justice in their own town, in their own lives. I can be harsh but I am just.”
She said this with such intensity I had no choice but to believe her. Her conviction to justice was zealous but I still wanted to pry a little bit more.
“So what does justice mean to you then? I don’t mean to be disrespectful but I want to hear it from you,”
I asked, growing a little more confident in talking to Shaoni. For once I didn’t feel like she would kill me on a whim. Give her a reason, and Shaoni would do it without a second thought but I don’t think she cared that much about my questioning.
“Justice is black and white, right and wrong. Normally there’s a pretty good system in place to punish those that deserve it but sometimes things slip through the cracks, that’s where I come in. I take care of the heinous acts people get away with, people that think they’ve gotten away with murder, so to speak.”
“So your a vigilante then? That’s what I’m hearing here.”
“I wouldn’t be so crass but yes, I suppose you could call me a vigilante but I promise you that’s an oversimplification. Suffice it to say my opinion on matters of serving justice is respected.”
Shaoni seemed a little uncomfortable at the word “respect”, I think a better word would’ve been “feared”. I wasn’t going to say it to her but I knew she suspected it. I could see something about that really hurt her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, the reason Shaoni didn’t want to be feared. Despite being the scariest thing I’d seen so far she didn’t want to be known for that.
We talked for a while longer about a whole lot of nothing. Eventually we got back around to the camp and she bid me goodnight despite the fact it was 3 in the afternoon at the time. She was probably right though, I was going to need the rest if I wanted to be ready for the first trial tomorrow. I found my way to a tepee conveniently marked with my name. I didn’t remember it being marked before and I didn’t understand the point of giving us specific tepees, privacy I guess? The fur sleeping bag was a rustic but welcome touch and despite lacking the amenities of a usual home the tepee was quite comfortable. As I settled in for the night I heard a rustling on the far side of the tepee, then a voice, one whose heavy accent I recognized immediately.
“So, turns out they don’t check under the truck. Ya got me here with you now.”
Rocco said, emerging from a blanket in the corner. That revelation didn’t exactly set my mind at ease. Rocco must’ve sensed my apprehension to the fact that he was anywhere near me right now.
“What?! I’m here to help out! I heard you going on about a trial or somethin’ so I figured I’d tag along under that truck when they picked you up, can’t have enough back up ya know.”
He continued, pulling a belt with several tools out from under the blanket as he spoke. I wasn’t pleased to have him here but maybe I could make use of him.
“I was hoping you’d go with Bianca and the other two but honestly, it might be nice to have a friendly face around here. Just… try to stay out of trouble.”
“Trouble? When do I ever get into trouble?”
I hoped he was being sarcastic, you can never tell with him. I bit my tongue as Rocco walked out into the camp, silently praying no-one would see him. With that I settled into my sleeping bag and tried to think of what I could expect from the first trial tomorrow.

This title sounds pretty psychotic but here we are lol.
We're starting a new campaign set in the pirate age (but with magic shit and beast races and all that fun stuff, kind of Pirates of the Carribean coded). The technology in the world is about Golden Age of Piracy (like 1600-1700s) with magic stuff thrown in of course. Everyone in the campaign is playing beast races. We got a Kenku Rogue themed after a parrot, a Dragonborn monk, and a bard (blanking on which race right now, but definitely a beast race). I've decided to play a crabfolk) that was a dropout from an arcane college after an accident killed one of his friends and severely injured him, leading to him becoming an Evolutionist (we're using the 3.2 version because I think it's a little less cyberpunk as compared to the 5.0 version). He grew up in an underwater crabfolk colony that has names that are not translatable to common or other languages easily, so when he got to college he decided to give himself the name of Bobba Gomp (after a famous tavern that was one of the first places he visited after arriving in the port city where his college was lol). I'm planning on doing the Method of Innovation.
Obviously, this is kind of an out there class to play in a pirate age campaign, but I think with some flavor tweaking I think it could be real neat and fit in well. Our DM and the players are on board (heehoo pirate pun) with it too. I was just hitting ya'll folks here at DnD up about what you think some neat flavor for augmentations could be, keeping in mind the technology level of the Pirate Age, with magic available. We're starting at lvl 3 so I I think I'm going to take the head and exterior augmentations. Gameplay wise I'm going to be building him as a frontline tank/fighter as we don't really have one of those.
With the exterior augmentation, the flavor I was imagining was just metal plating replacing parts of the carapace, mostly surrounding vital areas. A little basic but I think thematically it would look badass and intimidating to essentially be a metal crab duder.
With the head augmentation, I was thinking about having either chemical or magical fog lights attached on either side of the head, which help to spot enemies or other stuff, hence the perception proficiency and advantage on attack rolls when ignited.
This is what I got so far but curious what ideas ya'll have for flavohow to build the character differently. I'm not dead set on head and exterior augmentations as my starting stuff so I'm down for other suggestions if ya'll have them.
Also curious what ya'll think about which upgrades to take thematically/gameplay wise and how those could be flavored. Thanks in advance for any suggestions ya'll have. I think this will be a really fun character to play

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Phlur Añoranza (discontinued), new in unopened box, 50 ml, $75 US Phlur Hanami (discontinued), 50 ml, probably more than 45ml remaining $60 Miller Harris Secret Gardenia, 100 ml, $60 Mugler Alien Goddess, 60 ml bottle PLUS 10 ml travel sized, $60 Arielle Shoshana Monday, 50 ml, $75 D&G Devotion, 10 ml travel size, $12 1. None of these except the Phlur Añoranza include the original box or packaging. 2. Ship within USA. Buyer pays shipping. If you tell me your zip code, I can give you a quote. I use USPS Priority by default and it’s usually around $8. If you prefer a different shipping service, let me know. 3. Prefer PayPal Goods & Services https://imgur.com/a/kLVkmax I’m happy to provide additional pictures. Most have just been tested. couple times and are still basically full, the only ones that have been lightly used are the Miller Harris and the Hanami. You can see the level of Hanami, but the Miller Harris bottle is opaque but I assure you that less than 5 ml have been used. I can usually ship with one day delay (purchase Monday, ship Wednesday). I think that covers everything, please let me know if you have questions!

I hope it’s okay to post in here. I was dx with two support levels (1-social, 2-RRBs) last year after quitting my teaching job. I now work in a customer service type role, which I’ve managed (I still get comments on my tone), but everyday is feeling like an absolute battle. I have ADHD too, but my medication isn’t helping.
Has anyone here requested part-time hours as an accommodation? I doubt my job will accept it, but I don’t think I can do this much longer. My health is deteriorating. I may try to use FMLA or disability, but it’s hard to know where to even start.
Has anyone secured less hours/PT work? I’d appreciate any advice. I guess I’m ranting too- I just feel like everything is crumbling. It’s WFH too, so I just feel like I’m failing

I had watched the trilogy years ago, loved it at the time but never game them rewatches until last week to prepare for Kingdom.
First of all, those movies are beautiful, especially Dawn and War. I forgot how great the cinematography is for both movies, considering they’re blockbusters.
And I enjoyed rewatching them a lot and still think they’re amazing films.
However I have to say while I think they’re technically better movies than Kingdom, by a decent (but not too decent) margin, I think Kingdom is the most entertaining of them all.
A week later and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s one of the best blockbusters I’ve seen in recent years. It’d be the best had Dune 2 not come out this year.
Not sure how to articulate it but I guess I just love the scale of the movie. It feels very adventurous, kind of like a video game.
In fact the whole time in the first act and second act I couldn’t help but feel like it was a PS5 kind of video game.
You know the structure. Happy, cozy intro that eventually leads to some cinematic tragedy that causes the main protagonist to seek vengeance. Leaving his/her home and finding himself in an open world with a horse and low level gear. Eventually finding an NPC that seems very knowledgeable about the world. The aesthetic of the land even reminded me of the Last of Us.
Slow movie, but very atmospheric and immersive.
Again, not the best Ape movie technically, but I probably enjoyed that one the most.

So…what happened at last night’s 5+ hour meeting? The top story is that the committee voted 6/0/1 (the Mayor abstained) to ask the city for $79.4 million to fund our schools in the 2024-25 fiscal year. This is $8.2 million more than what the district received this year, $5 million more than the number initially provided to the district from the city, and $2.7 more than the number that we received at the May 6 meeting (which included $2.3 million worth of cuts to close the gap between the city’s initial number and the full ask). You can see this laid out before and after public comment (2:21 and 5:09 marks, respectively).
What’s next? The superintendent will present this “ask” to the city council as part of their review of the Mayor’s proposed city budget. Eventually, the Mayor will present a final city budget to the council and once approved, the amount allotted to the schools will come back to the Superintendent as a number so she and her team can create the final budget proposal within that final number. School committee will then need to vote to approve that budget for the upcoming fiscal year (July 1, 2024 to June 30, 2025).
What else? Recap below. As always, observations and opinions are solely my own. Agenda is here, recording is here. This update also includes some clarification about the difference between level funding and level services, as these are terms getting thrown around a lot.

1. Consent agenda - Two amendments (to add a link to one of the subcommittee meeting minutes and strike from the record the street addresses of students who presented at the budget hearing) but otherwise this approval was routine.
2. Report from the Ad Hoc Handbook Review subcommittee - The proposed policy (in the agenda) was approved in its first reading. (New policies get read twice over the course of two meetings to give relevant stakeholders a chance to comment on them, unless the committee decides to waive the second reading. We declined to do so last night, so this is now the time for district and school administration to provide feedback on the policy.
3. Report from Behavioral Health & Special Education subcommittee - The recommendation to co-locate the Curtis-Tufts school in/with the new high school was approved. The administration and building committee will need to flesh this out for inclusion in the materials to be presented to the MSBA.
4. CCSR recognition - summary of the program by advisor Richard Trotter (400 students, 70 projects this year), two student presentations (a high school student who talked about the program generally as well as his Mystic River clean up projects, and two elementary school students talking about their Letter Carriers Safety program), and appreciation for the support of the Cummings Foundation.
5. Humanities awards recognition - Young Playwrights Project, Student Government Day, Boston Globe Scholastic Writing Awards, Geography Bee, Day on the Hill, Shakespearean Monologue Competition, Immigration Learning Center Teen Perspectives Contest, Ethics Bowl, Mock Trial, Model United Nations - congratulations to all students and their advisors
6. High school update & climate survey results presented by principals Marta Cabral and Chad Fallon - This included data comparisons between last year and this year (all trends were positive), discussion of community norms and core values, an update on the exploratory program (CTE/arts rotation and placements), and some highlights from several CTE programs/projects (scarpentry heds, health assisting, awards, licensing, apprenticeships/placements, the biodiesel collaborative project, and the robotics team), three year strategic priorities, an update on last year’s Welch Report (various pieces in progress, other recommendations planned to go into effect next school year), and a proposal for an alternative program proposal to provide a small group learning environment to meet individual needs (pilot was approved by the committee for next school year).
7. Proposal for CTE program expansion and additions - Chad Fallon provided an overview of the enrollment/wait list numbers, shared the results of a (still-in-progress) student survey about potential new offerings (criminal justice/protective services, dental assisting, IT/networking, plumbing/HVAC, veterinary science, and the various “other” responses to an open-ended prompt), and laid out plans for expanding those programs with the highest wait list numbers (auto technology, cosmetology, electrical, and health assisting programs). The committee passed a motion directing the administration to further flesh out the proposals for inclusion in the building committee’s materials for MSBA.
8. Budget presentation (6:38 p.m., so 1.5 hours into the meeting) - Interim Finance Director Gerry McCue provided some additional context for the budget proposal received on May 6. There were questions and comments from the school committee and student representatives (including a petition), and Member Ruseau made a motion to send a cuts-free budget to city council and the Mayor. Public comment from students, alums, teachers, and parents ensued, focusing on the coordinator of performing arts position, marching band and color guard, the Missituk teaching staff, and a smattering of other items including library, technology, administrative assistants, and kindergarten numbers. Also of note, the Superintendent answered some questions about the performing arts coordinator position around 8:30 (3.5 hours in).
9. Budget vote - The committee voted to approve the motion offered before public comment began. As noted previously, this is NOT the approved budget but rather, the amount we (school committee and the district) are asking the city for. The city council will review the request in the context of the full city budget, ask questions, offer opinions, but eventually the Mayor’s office will present a final budget for city council approval and, once approved, whatever the school number is will come back to the district, who will then prepare a final budget for school committee to vote on.
10. Motion to table the update from the MSBA building committee’s meeting last week - passed and, following condolences, the meeting was adjourned. Next regular meeting is June 3.

BONUS CONTENT! What is the difference between a level funding budget and a level services budget? Level funding provides schools with the same dollar amount as they received in the year before. Because things tend to cost more year to year (due to inflation, contractual raises, etc.) having the same amount of money usually means reducing services. Level services, on the other hand, keeps the services the same but due to aforementioned cost increases, requires a higher dollar amount than the previous year. What did the district/school committee ask for this year? We voted to ask not just for level services, but level services plus additional funding to meet additional district needs (the items presented at the May 6 meeting, nothing new since then).
Superintendent should be at tonight's city council meeting to make this ask and answer questions.

Hello and good day everyone! I'm currently a college student planning to run a motorcycle rental business in our small island province where maraming tourists (foreign and domestic) na dumadayo occasionally and during holidays. I think one advantage is that competition in this business (at least in our place) is not that high so I was thinking of making the first move to build brand popularity as early as possible.
Here's the thing, I'm planning to purchase good condition second-hand motorbikes, more on dirt bikes and big-bodied bikes (not big bikes) for foreign clients and for those na gusto mag adventure at trailing, rent them out for about 800-2k/ day depending on the type of bike. Since yung 2 existing moto rental business in our island only rents out small scooters and semi-manual bikes of very common models (click, xrm, smash, other super common ph bikes na everyday sight), i thought of making this business more unique by acquiring rather not too common motorbikes and para na rin mas more attractive to potential customers.
Initially, i'm planning of just purchasing one unit first for at least 25-35k pesos to see if the business plan works and then eventually expand my network.
Where will I get my capital? I'm going to get in the moto taxi service very soon. My parents are still providing for me pa naman (no we're not rich, not in the line of poverty either (thanks god)) but as much as possible I want to establish something na galing sa pagod at hirap ko and then eventually expand this business further. I also think this is a good opportunity to train my managerial and business skills
I'm knowledgeable rin naman sa videography and a little sa graphic design so I can make a promotional video or ads for my potential business and advertise it on social media as well.
So to those who have experience or the knowledge, what do you guys think? As much as possible, I wrote this post without being too idealistic but more aligned to reality. Do you think magiging feasible kaya? Is the ROI worth it? What advices can you give me? Help a striving student out :D
Also additionally, if you have more side line job ideas na flexible at hindi magiging conflicting sa studies, please let me know! I'm always open for ideas!
I can accept criticism rin but please observe your way of communication
Thank you very much!!!

Chapter 1: The Awakening
The year was 2145, and humanity was at the brink of collapse. Nations had crumbled, and the world was now divided into warring factions. The discovery of ancient titans-massive, biomechanical war machines buried deep within the Earth's crust-had set the stage for a new era of warfare. These titans, remnants of a forgotten civilization, were the ultimate weapons, capable of leveling entire cities with a single strike.
In the heart of the desolate wasteland that was once Europe, the Northern Alliance fought fiercely against the Red Dominion. Tanks rumbled across the battlefield, their treads crushing the scorched earth beneath them. Soldiers, armed with advanced pulse rifles, exchanged relentless gunfire. But amidst the chaos, the true titans of war lay dormant, waiting to be awakened.
Captain Elena Drakovich of the Northern Alliance stood atop a hill, her keen eyes scanning the horizon through the scope of her rifle. Her unit had been tasked with locating and securing one of these legendary titans, rumored to be hidden in an ancient bunker deep within enemy territory. It was a mission that could turn the tide of the war, but the risks were unimaginable.
"Captain, we have visual confirmation of the bunker entrance," Sergeant Liam Hayes reported, his voice crackling through the comms. He pointed to a partially collapsed structure barely visible through the smoke and debris.
"Good work, Sergeant," Elena replied. "Squad, prepare to move out. This is our chance to make history."
As they approached the bunker, the ground trembled beneath their feet, and the air was filled with the scent of burning metal. The sound of artillery fire echoed in the distance, a constant reminder of the ever-present danger. Elena's team moved with precision, their training and discipline evident in every step.
Inside the bunker, the air was thick with dust and the stale scent of decay. The walls were adorned with ancient symbols, glowing faintly in the dim light. At the center of the vast chamber lay the titan, its colossal form covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. It was a sight to behold-a towering behemoth of metal and flesh, a fusion of technology and organic matter.
"Captain, this is incredible," Liam whispered, awe evident in his voice. "We need to get this thing operational."
Elena nodded, her eyes never leaving the titan. "Get to work, everyone. We don't have much time."
As the engineers began their work, the ground above them shook violently. The Red Dominion had discovered their presence and was closing in fast. Tanks and troops were converging on their location, intent on stopping the Northern Alliance from securing their prize.
"Hayes, secure the perimeter. We need to buy some time," Elena ordered, her voice steady despite the growing tension.
Outside the bunker, the battle raged on. Northern Alliance soldiers dug in, using the terrain to their advantage as they repelled wave after wave of Dominion forces. Tanks roared across the battlefield, their cannons thundering as they exchanged fire with the enemy. The air was filled with the deafening sounds of war.
Inside, the titan's eyes flickered to life, a deep, resonating hum filling the chamber. The ancient war machine began to stir, its massive limbs creaking as it slowly came online.
"We've done it, Captain!" an engineer shouted, his voice filled with triumph. "The titan is operational!"
Elena's heart pounded in her chest. "Excellent. Now let's show the Dominion what happens when you awaken a sleeping giant."
The titan rose to its full height, towering over the battlefield. With a deafening roar, it unleashed its fury upon the enemy. Plasma cannons blazed, and missiles streaked through the sky, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The ground shook as the titan's massive feet crushed tanks and fortifications beneath them.
The Red Dominion forces, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the titan, scrambled to regroup. But it was too late. The titan, driven by a relentless, ancient rage, tore through their ranks with unstoppable force. Soldiers fled in terror, and the once imposing Dominion tanks were reduced to smoldering wrecks.
As the dust settled, the battlefield fell eerily silent. The titan stood amidst the ruins, a testament to the Northern Alliance's newfound power. Elena climbed to the top of the titan, looking out over the devastation. She knew this was just the beginning. With the titan at their side, they had a fighting chance to reclaim their world from the brink of destruction.
"We've awakened the titan," Elena said, her voice resolute. "Now, let's finish this war and rebuild our future."
The journey ahead would be fraught with danger, and the cost of victory would be high. But with the titans of war on their side, the Northern Alliance was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they would forge a new era, one where the titans roamed the earth once more, and humanity rose from the ashes of its past.
Chapter 2: The Reclamation
(To be continued...)