When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

I feel horrible... please, if anyone is patient to read, I'd be deeply thankful:
I used to rent an amazing apartment. The problems were...
1) It's an apartment, which means my cats need to stay indoors. I value my cats having a life in contact with nature and the outside. I used to take them to the garden in front of the building, twice a day everyday, which took time away from me doing my things and my neighbors made small talk with me, I felt like I lacked privacy, couldn't just go out in my PJs and be silent.
2) It's a place where I formed habits. Habits I'm trying to break. Like using marijuana and not exercising my creative skills (drawing and writing).
But... the apartment is beautiful, has all amenities, neighbors like me, I was known as the "cool girl whose cats go outside", I didn't feel isolated even though I'm a lonely adult, there are great markets and pharmacies nearby.
One week ago... I moved to a new house:
1) House has a garden, is very spacious.
2) But it's an older house, which means the internal spaces aren't as comfortable and modern as the apartment's... In fact, I won't be using two rooms because they're uncomfortable, and will need to make adjustments to the kitchen.
3) It's a house, which means I'm ALONE alone. No neighbors close by, no voices to overhear. Only the terrible ones in my head. I also feel a bit unsafe, because people told me they'd feel unsafe living alone in a house.
My cats do go outside more often, which I like, and I have privacy... but ultimately, I'm still me, I still need to put the effort to build new healthy habits, and still need to deal with my loneliness and build a healthier social routine. I thought moving here would kickstart me into those things, but the fear and anxiety has been making me believe otherwise...
I think I made this choice based solely on what I wanted for my cats, and thinking I needed more privacy and a change of scenery. But truth is... my cats were happy there. I just had the minor inconvenience to take them outside twice a day, two hours of my day. And I think I made this choice impulsively, in a rush, thinking I needed to "fix" something. I'm always trying to fix things in my life. To fix myself. I have CPTSD from neglect and abuse...
Parents...
Should I stay here and endure the less comfortable space, loneliness and building new habits while dealing with this anxiety, or...
Should I give back the house, move back to the more comfortable apartment, and accept that what I need to change is myself, not my surroundings?
I have to make this decision by tomorrow, or I'll lose the chance to get the apartment back. :(
It's been two weeks since I rented the new house, and one week since I moved.

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

So, I've lived around the US and traveled around the world, so I can understand why some things here are perceived as rude or blunt. Many Chicagoans who have not lived or traveled around may not understand why things can be perceived this way, or know that other places around the US do things differently. And many tourists may see us as either friendly, or rude, or both in the same interaction, depending on your specific experiences. After talking to friends and others, and from my own experiences, here's some things that can be taken as rude, and another perspective on how to view them. And a quick reminder, this doesn't apply to everyone here. IMO

1. Direct and at times, aggressive/assertive, communication. Many Chicagoans are friendly upfront, but also not afraid to be very direct, sometimes brutally honest even. I've seen it myself and friends have seen it too. IMO this comes down to values of authenticity most of the time. It's kind of a no BS thing. Many people here are quite assertive. And this also changes depending on the part of the city you're in.
2. Efficiency. In Chicago, many people value efficiency in various facets. So if you're in a grocery store, many times the cashier is not just gonna strike up a convo with you for 5 minutes. They want to get you in and out quickly and efficiently and this may not always come with a smile. This can mean they may come across a bit cold. It's usually not meant that way though.
3. Down to earth. Chicago tends to often times be a more dress down type of city. Showcasing materialistic things for status purposes, or acting overly pompous will often garner some dirty looks, eye rolling, or people just flat out telling you they aren't into that. Personally, I'm proud of the city for this lol.
4. Swearing. From what I've seen and others have seen, many Chicagoans swear alot, loudly, in casual convos, and with people they just met. Oftentimes this is in social situations that, in other parts of the US, would be seen as inappropriate or rude. Again, its generally not meant to be rude, its just part of how many people here communicate. For example: im in grad school and our cohort openly swears with our teacher.
5. Overly honest. This is something ive noticed more here than many other places, and this can come off pretty brash. I've noticed at times, if a chicagoan doesn't like you, some of them won't just distance from you, they will flat out tell you it, and usually give their reasons why. And Chicagoans tend to be quite outspoken and opinionated, which again can come off as brash.
6. Loud. Many chicagoans are very very loud. This isn't generally meant to come off rude at all, though if you're from a region that is more reserved, it might be a bit jarring.
7. Crazy drivers. Compared to many other places in the US, drivers here are wild. There's no ifs/ands/buts about it.
8. Looks. Now, this one is GOING to sound a bit odd if you are from here, but if you're coming from another part of the US that has less of this, especially parts of the south, you'll know what I mean. The clothing, grooming and whatever else habits of some chicagoans can make them look intimidating or unapproachable. This may include wearing sunglasses in places others may not such as inside stores and stuff, lots of leathebiker jackets, long beards (think the men with the goatee and sunglasses), lots of tattoos, piercings, whatnot. Again, many people in this city really value authenticity, and so their appearance and clothing are something they do for themselves, and not to impress you or adhere to some social rule.

Here's another viewpoint also to have. Alot of people here view tough love as a form of kindness. Honesty and authenticity is kind even if it means potentially having a brief conflict or being direct and upsetting someone else. It's a form of respect to be straight up, rather then to be fake with you. Many chicagoans will not like this post, so if you find it offends you, id actually encourage you to see if any of these apply to you and if thats why you're offended. Remember though, this is mostly just meant to clear some stuff up so tourist and transplants aren't are taken aback. We're not Philly, after all.

I'll have you guys know that the person who posted here probably doesn't believe in cognitive functions. I'm not sure why he seem to have gone to great lengths to make such a post. Maybe he can't express his words? Anyway, why am I posting this? Since I took the time, I thought I might as well share it.
Anyway, here's my translation: (but it may/can be translated in completely different ways, even better ones)
ENTP is a form (body type) that is earthly (Si) as opposed to etheric (Ni). This makes their consciousness egoic (within boundary of their form, distinguishing self from the not-self). Their consciousness is a point of view, from the point of view of form (matter) that is now conscious.
ENTP in essence can be grasped unlike the heavens, This makes their life about self. (Within the limits of their essence, differentiating self from what is not the self) How an ENTP thinks is one of many point of views. And from their point of view, it has now been revealed. (Note: I guess he's a magician?)
Ni, in contradistinction, is a point of view from a form that is more ether less matter. Ether is rarified matter, matter is condensed ether. Ether includes matter (which makes Ni more expansive in consciousness), matter excludes ether by condensing from it to a particular type of material (which makes the consciousness and point of view of ENTPs more egoic ie. within boundary). ENTP looks at the world as if he is a form (matter) vivified, as opposed to an Ni user who feels like a spirit that is em-bodied.
Ni, to be distinguished, is a point of view of another that is not so easily reached. Anything light is less heavy, Anything heavy is more of what is light. (Note: Basically, it's all perception) Anything light includes anything heavy (which makes Ni quite expansive in consciousness) (Note: He's probably just trying to say that Ni isn't so closeminded in nature.), Anything that has weight excludes anything that is light by putting together from it to a particular outlet (which makes the consciousness and point of view of ENTPs more of the self within boundary) ENTP looks at the world as if he is the spitting image of consciousness, in contrast to an Ni user who feels like a spirit made flesh.
ENTP is a water form. If matter is distinguished as quantitative matter and qualitative matter, then ENTP is a form of qualitative matter (Ne).
ENTP in essence is fluid. If train of thought is divided into what can be counted and what can't be counted, ENTP is in essence uncountable (Ne). (Note: Burn?)
Se form is denser and more compact, it is quantitative earth. Their interaction style correspond to such. Ne is more buoyant and versatile like water, it is more conscious than Se, their interaction style is likewise versatile, able to take any form. It is like a torrent of water, and not a cloud in the sky— things they find interesting even though seem more detached from denser earth, are still part of lighter earth (technology, politics, sciences etc). If dense (Se) is the definition of hands on, then Ne is less so, but still very interactive within earth in a bouyant fashion.
The essence of Se is neither continually lighter nor constantly heavier and is more well put, it is something that can be grasped (or touched). The Se approach is flexible, able to take on any essence. It is like flowing water, not a drifting cloud. Subjects that interest them (the Se users?), though seemingly not so humble as the great earth, are still of the upper earth like technology, politics, sciences, etc. If Se means getting hands dirty, then Ne would be less so, but still has its hands continually working the earth. (Note: Basically, your hands may not be dirty but whatever is happening on the world is still on you guys, tl;dr you're just like the rest of us)
The physical world is on a spectrum of Qualitativeness (Ni), the more it is condensed into the densest matter —it increases in quantitativeness (Si).
Whatever you can touch, be it subject or object, is on a spectrum that is unmeasurable (Ni). The more that is put together into the brain, the more it will be countable. (Note: lol. Basically, the more you learn, the better we can count on you)
If the whole phenomenal (physical) world is seen as Si, then what makes the differences in forms of the world is the Ni (Quality) expressing in it.
If all that matters is seen as Si(universality, or true), then what makes the differences in thought processes is the immeasurable manifesting within. (It means what it means)
In the physicality that is within our perception, the difference in Si quantity/form (by means of Ni expressing in it) gives us Se forms in one end of the spectrum, and Ne forms in the other end. Ne being more qualitative, more etheric, and having more potential than Se.
In what we have grasped within our perception, the contrast in Si (universal thinking) (from my Ni point of view) (Note: not my point of view as a translator) gives us tangible thoughts in some aspects, as well as intangible thoughts in some aspects. (Note: Basically, he's trying to say that what we have in our brain are things that others can grasp and we also have things that cannot be grasped) The intangible (Ne) being more valued, lighter, and having more possibilities than what can be felt within or without. (Note: The things that cannot be grasped are greater than what can be felt emotionally or physically)
Accordingly, if that Si is the most quantitative world of forms, our material world, then there is yet another Si (physicality) which is rarer than this world but more qualitative as it is ascending the spectrum of quantitativeness (Si). This more qualitative Si (physicality) is the world of astral phenomena, where emotions impulses, feelings and desires interact. It is super-physical but just as real. It is more spiritual than our plane of existence (Si) which is more physical and material. This rarer world is Te, just as the one we can see is the Se world.
Now, if that universe is the most reachable explorable of places, our abode, then there is another tangible thing which is less than the whole but increasingly more as it is continually rising more than we can count. This quite desirable habitation is the world of astral phenomena, where emotions, impulses, feelings, and desires interact. It is super tangible but just as real. It is more ephemeral than our way of living which is more touchable and substantial. This remarkable world is Te, just as the one we can see is the Se world. (He's saying that Te and Se are good. But he could also just be trying to advertise his ideas on spirituality)
Densest physicality (Se), reduced in quantitativeness (Si), is Te, world of astral phenomena (super-physical).
Se (The whole of tangibility) reduced in Si (enumerability) is Te, the world of astral phenomena (super-physical) (Note: I guess you could try ignoring the cognitive function letters to make sense of this.)
Te reduced in quantitativeness (Si), is Ti, super-physical world of mental phenomena.
Te reduced in numbers (Si), is Ti, super-physical world of mental phenomena (super-physical world of intellectual wonder) (Note: Reduced in numbers would mean that it is equal to one but not two or more than two yet it is not greater than one. Essentially, if Te is a collective, then each unique Ti data point would be one of many individual building blocks to Te)
Reduction in quantitativeness is an increase in vibration or quality. Quantity is redundant with increased vibration, quality makes up for it. Lack of quantity takes it out of perception, but the concurrent increase in quality or vibration puts it into a field of definite receptivity, though out from perception. Sounds, feelings, and thoughts are received upon the senses, unlike sight that perceives and does not receive therefore possibly not see things right in front of him. Increase in quality makes form universal, while increase in quantity is an increase in subjectivity. Subjectivity locks consciousness in a point of view, making things outside its grasp seem unreal. The super-physical is just as real as the physical, but according to the consciousness of the observer is his capacity for belief.
A decrease in count is an increase in movement or potential. (Note: Less is more? As that would imply space for movement? As well as room for growth?) Increased numbers is redundant with increased movement (Note: series of actions) (Note: Increasing the number of ENTPs for example won't really get ENTPs anywhere as they would repeat the same thing other ENTPs would have done), personality makes up for it. Lack in numbers takes personality out of perception (Note: If a personality is missing, the contrasting personalities would lose their perception of their own personality), but the flipside increase in personality (Note: singular) or movement puts it (what lacks in numbers i.e. personality or movement) into a field of agreeableness, though out from perception (Note: Though unnoticeable, the more ENTPs there are, for example, the stronger the mob mentality) Sounds, feelings, and thoughts are received by the senses, unlike sight that sees without from within but does not take in what is within from without. (Note: It's like saying you won't take in others who are different from you.) Increase in personality makes the essence thereof relatable, while increase in types is an increase in subjectivity. Subjectivity grabs a hold of life in a perspective, making things present within the blindspot seem unreal (Note: or untrue). The super-physical is just as real as the physical, but according to the consciousness of the reader, according to his capacity for belief.
Fe form is the qualitative aspect of Te just as Ne is the qualitative aspect of Se form. Te is quantitative even though less material than Se.
Fe essence is the innumerable aspect of Te just as Ne is the innumerable aspect of Se essence. Te is numerable even though it has less substance than Se essence. (Note: I guess what he meant was "The essence of Fe represents the good aspects of Te just as Ne represents the good aspects of the essence of Se. As for the second, Te, while less in substance, is limited just like Se.")
Te inclines towards external organisation to achieve— Fe, internal harmony (qualitative).
Te inclines towards organizing the outside world to achieve Fe (internal harmony) (peace)
Fe inclines towards spiritual (emotional or internal) organisation and harmony, even if it has to upset systems, methods and guidelines (quantitative Te). This is how we see Fe users act.
(Note: Read it as it is)
Fi is the qualitative aspect of Ti. Direct knowledge, innate understanding makes rationalisation and argumentation (quantitative) unnecessary. Knowledge (data, information) is required only to sustain and carry the underlying meaning and understanding (the qualitative), the letters are of no special worth. Fi is intuitive grasp, value-based, assessing the quality of something. Ti is logical deduction, systematic, and a means to (Fi)-assessing the worth of something. Just as Te external harmonizing is a means to Fe (internal harmonizing). Ti is quantitative, it must reach the qualitative (Fi) end and not look to get caught in endless philosophizing.
Fi is the unnumbered aspect of Ti. Direct knowledge (knowledge that was not passed down), innate understanding makes rationalization and debates unnecessary. (Note: I'm not going to continue this one. Also, the weather is getting to me. *cold*)
The hands-on work of Se is quantitative (quantitative means quantity, it lives for something else ie. Quality, and expresses it and does not exist for its own sake), it is a means to the work to be done by Ne to reach a desired goal. If manufacturing a computer is Se work, then its purpose is something Ne like developing new softwares.
(Note: This part is self-explanatory. You guys need to work with Se users somehow.)
The underlying principle is this; the physical is materialising (working/existing for) the spiritual. The quantitative is a means for the qualitative. The spiritual is the cause, the physical is the effect. The spiritual is the expressive but it requires a grounding for its unfolding. The physical is the inert, and the ground for spirituality to work itself. The physical only exists as the materialisation of the spiritual. The actual exists as a realisation of a potential, not as a realisation of nothingness. Quantity (physical) needs something behind it to display what it is. These are the properties, attributes, descriptions; it is the Quality (spiritual) that is behind all manifestation. Existence (Si) is not an accident, it is a meaningful depiction. Physical world is the externalization of the spiritual. Physicality is materialisation— of the Spiritual.
(Note: This is his own explanation. I guess I can translate this, but I don't think it is necessary at this point.)

The Setup: It's the New Calendar Year 67. The Human Sphere occupies 11 inhabited star systems. The political power of O-12, the interstellar governing body of humanity, is divided among the G-5 Nations, the Aleph AI, hypercorps, submondo criminal organizations, the minor nations of Earth, and mercenary armies. Seven years after the invasion of the human world of Paradiso by the alien Combined Army, the battlefront has stabilized. However, the Combined Army still controls vast swaths of territory and the Acheron Blockade surrounding the world is constantly tested.
Elsewhere, tensions are higher throughout the Human Sphere than they have ever been. Secret operations, fast missions, infiltrations, exfiltrations, and special actions have proliferated. The G-5 nations inflict murder, theft, aggressive espionage, sabotage, and kidnappings upon each other.
To some, Paradiso seems far away and pales in comparison to the dangers of a Sphere in a position every bit as precarious as the days leading up to the last national wars.
The Pitch: You are a field agent of Bureau Noir, O-12's secret service. You quietly work across all the nations, from Earth to the Human Edge, acquiring restricted knowledge and protecting the O-12 from the threats within the Human Sphere. However, you and other members of your team may have secondary loyalties to your home nation or organization that require you to engage in off-the-books side missions within the Wilderness of Mirrors.
The Game: Infinity is a TTRPG adaptation of the sci-fi miniatures skirmish game from Corvus Belli. It uses the 2d20 system from Modiphius, which is also used in the Conan and Star Trek Adventures RPGs. It is a mechanics-heavy take on 2d20 with systems divided between physical conflict, digital (quantronic) conflict, and mental (social) conflict. However, if you understand one system, you understand them all.
Also, not only do you play your Bureau Noir character in Infinity, you take on a second character in the form of a geist - a digital AI friend and assistant - belonging to one of the other players. So even if the spotlight isn't on your primary character, you have a second opportunity for roleplay!
Who Are You?: I'm looking for good-natured, supportive, and creative gamers who enjoy the science-fiction, espionage, and action genres and are willing to invest in the the Infinity setting. I have pre-written material from the publisher to get us going but after that I'd like to adapt the game to your interests and your character. I'm also looking for players who are willing to support their fellow gamers at the virtual table and who stay engaged even when the spotlight isn't directly on them.
About Me: I'm Wes (he/him), I'm 45, and I've been game mastering TTRPG campaigns for almost 20 years. I've also written freelance material for the Traveller and Shadowrun game systems. I've run campaigns in D&D 4E/5E, Pathfinder 1E/2E, Shadowrun 4E, Savage Rifts, FFG Star Wars, CthulhuTech, Traveller 2300 AD, Interface Zero 2.0, Paranoia, The Esoterrorists, Nights Black Agents, and 13th Age.
Anyone is welcome at my table, discrimination and/or harassment is not tolerated, and I'll use safety tools/X-cards. I'll use a combination of Roll20, Discord, and World Anvil.
Please fill out the following form if you're interested and I'll get back with you if I think you could be a good fit!

Understanding Diminutive and Augmentative Suffixes in Spanish

Diminutive Suffixes

Diminutive suffixes are used to convey smallness, endearment, or affection. The most common diminutive suffixes are:

1. -ito / -ita: These are common and widely used. They can be added to nouns and adjectives.
   
   • Example: "perro" (dog) becomes "perrito" (small dog or cute dog).
2. -illo / -illa: Another set of diminutive suffixes, though slightly less common than -ito/-ita.
   
   • Example: "pan" (bread) becomes "panecillo" (small bread or bread roll).
3. -ico / -ica: These are often used in certain regions, such as Spain and Colombia.
   
   • Example: "chico" (boy) becomes "chiquitico" (small boy).

Augmentative Suffixes

Augmentative suffixes, on the other hand, are used to convey largeness, exaggeration, or sometimes even disdain. Common augmentative suffixes include:

1. -ón / -ona: These are the most common augmentative suffixes.
   
   • Example: "casa" (house) becomes "casón" (big house or mansion).
2. -ote / -ota: Another set of augmentative suffixes that denote largeness.
   
   • Example: "libro" (book) becomes "librote" (big book).
3. -azo / -aza: These suffixes can indicate large size as well as admiration or emphasis.
   
   • Example: "manzana" (apple) becomes "manzanazo" (big apple).

Usage and Nuance

The usage of diminutive and augmentative suffixes can vary based on regional dialects and personal speech habits. Often, the context of the conversation determines the suffix used and how it is interpreted. For example, a "casita" might simply be a small house or a beloved home, while a "casón" could imply a very large house or even perhaps a more negative connotation depending on the speaker’s tone.
Note: Some words already exist in their diminutive or augmentative forms and don’t follow the regular pattern of suffix addition.

Practice with Pal

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To master diminutive and augmentative suffixes, practice is essential! Head over to Get-Pal.com/WhatsApp/ and start practicing today.

1. Craft a Sentence: Think of a noun and try to use a diminutive or augmentative suffix with it. For example, take the word "gato" (cat) and use -ito to make "gatito" (small cat or kitten).
   
2. Send It to Pal: Message your sentence to Pal and get instant feedback.
   
3. Correction & Conversation: If your sentence has errors, Pal will correct them and provide the correct version. Keep the conversation going by asking follow-up questions or creating more sentences, and Pal will assist you in making your Spanish impeccable.
   

If you feel stuck and can't come up with a sentence, don't worry! Ask Pal for examples or tips on how to use these suffixes effectively.
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Since it seems that at my age and in my current stage of life my mental health is relatively stable I have found myself finally accepting that things I've been wrestling with for about five years now are relatively pointless.
I guess the worst thing for me is pain in relationships and an unwillingness to be proactive about my own mental health. Because I am sort of stuck in that way.
The last year I have really tried different medications and have found that any attempt to manipulate my negative symptoms results in unsustainable push back. At least at the chemical level it just doesn't get anywhere.
Recently I relapsed on drugs. For the first time I regretted doing it and deeply so. I've never felt that way before and for some reason I feel like this cut off is significant for me. Something in me tells me I will never touch at least crystal or stims again, which is something I never saw as a finality in life.
I think that I am at a good enough place in life where I have enough of a sense of self feels like any betrayal of that is a betrayal of myself. If there is a path to travel or take in life, it feels so clearly defined and understood for me as the sum of all my actions and habits to this point that it's pointless to try anything else beyond continuing on.
But I feel powerless as always with my own self growth in terms of mental health. There's a pointlessness and a nihilism because of my inability to act with others and form deep relationships. Really it just is part of my reality, so I sort of have to sit with the question of "what is it I'm missing?" Knowing there is something that I don't have or haven't experienced (probably a loving trusting relationship or something) that I need to.
I can meditate on that and carry on through life, and I guess I have to do that for the foreseeable future. I am good at just doing what I usually do and getting better at that. But yeah. I feel a deep sense of change in how I now view drugs in my life. I've always known they are unwise but now I know for a fact that compared to what I'm longing to feel they have no significance in terms of what they can offer , other than misfortune.
These are just thoughts I don't expect a reply or anything. If anyone wants to share though that's great.

Readiness and wisdom indeed represent a profound language that not everyone may fully comprehend or utilize. This language encompasses qualities such as foresight, prudence, discernment, and preparedness that guide effective decision-making and thoughtful living. Here’s how one can understand and cultivate this language:

1. Understanding Readiness

Preparedness

• Anticipation: Being ready involves anticipating potential challenges and opportunities. It means thinking ahead and preparing for various scenarios.
• Proactive Approach: Rather than reacting to situations as they arise, readiness involves taking proactive steps to mitigate risks and seize opportunities.

Adaptability

• Flexibility: Readiness also means being flexible and adaptable to change. The ability to pivot when circumstances change is a crucial aspect of being prepared.
• Resilience: Developing resilience helps in bouncing back from setbacks and continuing forward with a positive outlook.

2. Understanding Wisdom

Knowledge and Experience

• Informed Decisions: Wisdom is the ability to make informed decisions based on knowledge and experience. It involves not just knowing facts, but understanding their implications.
• Learning from Experience: Wisdom comes from reflecting on past experiences and learning from both successes and failures.

Judgment and Discernment

• Critical Thinking: Wise individuals employ critical thinking to analyze situations deeply and consider various perspectives before making decisions.
• Ethical Considerations: Wisdom includes making decisions that are not only effective but also ethical and just.

3. Cultivating Readiness and Wisdom

Continuous Learning

• Curiosity: Cultivate a habit of lifelong learning. Stay curious and open to new information and experiences.
• Reflective Practice: Regularly reflect on your experiences. What went well? What could have been done differently? This reflection builds wisdom over time.

Mindfulness and Presence

• Awareness: Practice mindfulness to enhance your awareness of the present moment. This helps in making thoughtful and deliberate decisions.
• Presence: Being fully present in interactions and tasks ensures that you are attentive and responsive to the needs and nuances of each situation.

Empathy and Emotional Intelligence

• Understanding Others: Develop empathy to understand and relate to the emotions and perspectives of others. This enhances your interpersonal wisdom.
• Self-Regulation: Cultivate emotional intelligence to manage your own emotions and respond to situations with calm and clarity.

Strategic Thinking

• Long-Term Vision: Think strategically about your goals and how your current actions align with your long-term vision.
• Risk Management: Be aware of potential risks and have plans in place to manage them.

4. Applying Readiness and Wisdom

Decision Making

• Balanced Choices: Make decisions that balance short-term gains with long-term benefits. Consider the wider impact of your choices.
• Ethical Framework: Ensure your decisions align with your values and ethical principles.

Problem Solving

• Innovative Solutions: Use your readiness to foresee potential problems and your wisdom to devise innovative solutions.
• Collaboration: Engage others in problem-solving to leverage collective wisdom and readiness.

Leadership

• Inspirational Leadership: Lead by example, demonstrating preparedness and wise decision-making in your actions.
• Mentorship: Share your knowledge and experiences with others, helping to cultivate readiness and wisdom in your community.

Conclusion

Readiness and wisdom form a language of thoughtful and effective living that is not universally understood but can be cultivated and shared. By focusing on continuous learning, mindfulness, emotional intelligence, and strategic thinking, individuals can develop these qualities. Applying readiness and wisdom in decision-making, problem-solving, and leadership not only enhances personal effectiveness but also contributes positively to the broader community. This profound language, when mastered, becomes a guiding force for a meaningful and impactful life.

my school semester ended about a week ago and i just want to form some habits while i have to time to do so. it’s my first summer break where i don’t have to work, so i really want to use this time to at least form some small habits. one of which is to actually stay awake after i feed my cats at 7:30. i’m taking an 8am class in the fall semester so it’d really benefit me to start doing waking up earlier. but i keep going back to bed and sleeping until 10:50 (not sure why 10:50) and it’s really frustrating me. it also throws off the rest of the day.
some other habits i want to focus on is keeping my room clean. so picking up clothes off the floor, dusting, vacuuming more, things like that. but it feels nearly impossible. i’ve written it down on a piece of paper and really broke down what i can do and how small it can be. but because i wake up late, i feel like i can’t do these habits/chores i’ve assigned myself. i’ve set reminders but those go ignored. i want to get them done since im home alone until around 2pm, and would rather not have family get in the way/comment on me doing things.
any tips or advice will be very much appreciated <3

In the dynamic world of business, adaptability is crucial. The concept of ATM Adaptation (At the Moment Adaptation) emphasizes the need for businesses to be agile and responsive to real-time changes and opportunities. Integrating ATM Adaptation into your Blue Ocean Marketing Strategy can help you stay ahead of the curve, continuously innovate, and maintain a competitive edge in an uncontested market space. Here's how to strategically plan and implement ATM Adaptation within your Blue Ocean Marketing Strategy.

Understanding ATM Adaptation

ATM Adaptation involves making real-time adjustments based on immediate feedback and market conditions. It is about being proactive and responsive, ensuring that your strategies remain relevant and effective in a rapidly changing environment.

Steps to Implement ATM Adaptation

1. Establish a Real-Time Feedback System

Customer Feedback Channels

• Utilize various channels such as social media, customer service interactions, and surveys to gather immediate feedback.
• Implement chatbots and live chat options on your website to capture customer inputs instantly.

Data Analytics Tools

• Employ advanced analytics tools to monitor market trends, customer behavior, and competitive actions in real-time.
• Use sentiment analysis tools to gauge customer emotions and opinions about your brand and offerings.

2. Create a Flexible Organizational Structure

Agile Teams

• Form cross-functional agile teams that can quickly respond to changes and implement new strategies.
• Encourage a culture of collaboration and continuous improvement.

Decentralized Decision-Making

• Empower employees at all levels to make decisions that align with the company's strategic goals.
• Implement a decentralized decision-making process to reduce bureaucracy and speed up response times.

3. Integrate Real-Time Data into Strategy Development

Dynamic SWOT Analysis

• Regularly update your SWOT analysis to reflect current market conditions and emerging opportunities or threats.
• Use real-time data to adjust your strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats promptly.

Continuous Market Research

• Conduct ongoing market research to stay updated on industry trends and consumer preferences.
• Utilize real-time data to identify shifts in the market and adapt your strategy accordingly.

4. Develop Adaptive Marketing Tactics

Personalized Marketing Campaigns

• Use data-driven insights to create personalized marketing campaigns that resonate with individual customers.
• Leverage automation tools to tailor messages based on real-time customer interactions and behaviors.

Real-Time Content Marketing

• Create and distribute content that is relevant to current events and trending topics.
• Use social media and other digital platforms to engage with your audience in real-time.

5. Implement a Continuous Innovation Process

Innovation Sprints

• Conduct regular innovation sprints to brainstorm and develop new ideas quickly.
• Test new concepts and prototypes in real-time to gather immediate feedback and iterate.

Pilot Programs

• Launch pilot programs to test new strategies, products, or services in a controlled environment.
• Use the feedback from these pilots to refine and improve before a full-scale launch.

6. Monitor and Measure Performance

Real-Time KPIs

• Establish key performance indicators (KPIs) that can be tracked in real-time.
• Use dashboards and reporting tools to monitor these KPIs continuously.

Adaptive Metrics

• Develop metrics that can adapt to changing market conditions and business priorities.
• Regularly review and adjust these metrics to ensure they remain aligned with your strategic goals.

Benefits of ATM Adaptation

Increased Agility

• By integrating ATM Adaptation, your business can quickly pivot and respond to new opportunities and challenges.

Enhanced Customer Satisfaction

• Real-time feedback allows you to address customer needs and concerns promptly, leading to higher satisfaction and loyalty.

Sustained Competitive Advantage

• Continuous innovation and adaptability help you stay ahead of competitors, even in a rapidly changing market.

Improved Efficiency

• Agile teams and decentralized decision-making processes enhance operational efficiency and reduce time-to-market for new initiatives.

Case Study: Netflix

Netflix exemplifies ATM Adaptation by continuously evolving its content and services based on real-time viewer data. By analyzing viewing habits and preferences, Netflix can recommend personalized content, develop new shows that cater to emerging trends, and adjust its offerings to maintain subscriber engagement. This adaptability has helped Netflix remain a leader in the streaming industry, consistently creating a blue ocean of uncontested market space.

Conclusion

ATM Adaptation is a vital component of a successful Blue Ocean Marketing Strategy. By establishing a real-time feedback system, creating a flexible organizational structure, integrating real-time data, developing adaptive marketing tactics, implementing a continuous innovation process, and monitoring performance, businesses can enhance their agility, customer satisfaction, and competitive advantage. Embrace ATM Adaptation to ensure your blue ocean strategy remains relevant and effective in a constantly evolving market landscape.

This is taken from and is copyright protected by globalsoup.net, a website that promotes flash Fiction with annual writing contests.
I am reprinting these Flash Fiction Prompts because they are outstanding ways to freewrite and offer plenty to work with for those who want to learn how to write Flash Fiction.
So check out these prompts and the article and work some of them into your journal! Post the best responses!
100 Awesome Flash Fiction Prompts - Plus Bonus Prompts!
We’ve put together 100 flash fiction prompts, each one designed for a very short story. These prompts will probably be best suited to a story of between 300-1,000 words. If you want to write a longer story using these prompts, you can easily expand these ideas to fit a story of any length.
What is flash fiction?
Flash Fiction is defined as a very short story that can be anywhere from just a couple of words to about a thousand in length. The beauty (and difficulty) of writing flash fiction lies in trying to tell a complete story in so few words. Great flash fiction is succinct, emotive, thought-provoking, and impactful.
What’s the difference between flash fiction and a short story?
The only difference between flash fiction and a typical short story is the word count. However, this scarcity of words means that writing flash fiction can feel like a completely new skill. Just like the short story is a different animal to the novel or novella; flash fiction is kind of unique.
When writing flash, you’ll need to use fewer characters, a simpler plot, and you’ll have to make each word count. This is why editing is so important. You have to be brutal. Cut out everything superfluous and really make sure each and every word is performing an important function in the story. If you’re interested in writing very short fiction, why not check out drabbles? Drabbles are stories of exactly 100 words in length, and they can be a great way to practice keeping your stories very, very short.
How to plot a flash fiction story
When you sit down to write flash fiction, you must begin by choosing an appropriate plot. You cannot simply use a short story plot and tell it using fewer words. A typical flash fiction plot is like looking at one part of a story under a microscope.
For example, let’s look at prompt #21 in our list of 100 Flash Fiction Prompts:

1. Two people on a sinking ship must decide who should take the last seat in the last lifeboat. If you were writing a novel about a sinking ship, you’d probably want the actual sinking to be the climax of the story. Of course, there are infinite ways to write a novel about a sinking ship, but this would structurally be the most obvious. You’d use the first part of the novel to introduce your characters and describe the voyage leading up to the sinking and the sinking of the ship would be the dramatic climax, leaving the last part of the book as the resolution.

The golden rule of writing short stories is to begin as close to end as you can. So, to turn the same story from novel to short story, you’d probably want to begin with the ship sinking. You haven’t got time to introduce the characters before the action begins, so you’d need to feed in exposition and backstory here and there during the events.
All stories need a good climax. So, you would find the most dramatic moment in the story and build up to it. Perhaps your climax would be the two main characters having to decide who will take the remaining seat on the last lifeboat.
Finally, you need a resolution. In a longer short story you do have time to bring in some kind of satisfying resolution at the end.
But, if you’re writing flash fiction and your story is only a few hundred words, you really need to zoom in on one tiny moment in that story.
You don’t have time to tell the entire story of a sinking ship, but you can turn one moment into a story.
We’ve chosen the lifeboat situation as the key moment in this hypothetical story. Two characters must decide which one of them will take the last seat on the last lifeboat. This is an appropriate plot for flash fiction because it’s simple, high-stakes, dramatic, and thought provoking.
Not all flash fiction will have a plot quite this dramatic, but all great flash fiction will have a plot that can be expressed in just one or two sentences.
If you have a plot in mind, but it seems more suitable for a longer story, you can sometimes find several flash fiction plots hidden within it. Just look for little stories within the story, like the lifeboat moment in our hypothetical tale of the sinking ship.
This brings us to our top tip for coming up with ideas for flash fiction stories:
if you’re ever stuck for ideas, you can find little stories within the story in books, movies, and TV shows. A full length feature film might have as many as 20 little incidents in it that could easily be flash fiction.
Don’t directly write a story based on the film, though. Just carefully pick out those little moments, write down what’s happening as a one or two sentence plot, and then use it to inspire your own, completely original flash fiction story.
One of our 100 Flash Fiction Prompts was actually taken from the movie Pulp Fiction!
How to write very short flash fiction
There are several reasons writers might start writing flash fiction. Of course, it could be that they just love and enjoy the form, but sometimes they’ll be a more strategic and practical reason at play.
Perhaps they want to practise the process of writing stories within the confines of a certain word limit. Maybe they are trying to develop a daily writing routine and they don’t have a lot of free time. It could be that they’re trying to break a habit of not finishing writing projects, or perhaps they are entering a flash fiction competition.
Whatever the reason, very often when we sit down to write flash, we must work under an imposed or self-imposed word restraint. We’ve set ourselves (or been set) the task of keeping the story under a particular number of words.
So, how do you plot a flash fiction story when you have to keep your story very, very short.
We’re not going to discuss stories of 100 words or fewer here. Technically, those stories are still flash, however, we prefer to categorise 100 word stories as drabbles and anything under 100 words as micro fiction.
But what if you have to keep your flash fiction story under, let’s say, 300 words? How do you write a flash fiction story that short?
The answer is: get your microscope out again. Remember earlier when we said writing flash fiction is like looking at part of a story under a microscope? If you have to write very short flash fiction, you’ll need to zoom in even further.
Let’s look at a couple of examples from our 100 Flash Fiction Prompts:

1. During a match, a young boxer must decide whether to throw the fight.

If you had 1,000 words to devote to the story, you could have time to tell the story of the entire fight. With only 300 words, it might be better to zoom in on the very moment when the boxer must choose whether or not to go down.
In a longer flash fiction story you might have time to go into detail about why he’s in this situation and why he’s so conflicted. In a 300 word story, you might only devote one or two sentences to his gambling debt and the large sum of money waiting for him if he goes down in the third round, as instructed.

1. A family must decide what to take and what to leave behind as a wildfire approaches their home.

If you had 1,000 words to devote to this story, you might be able to write about the whole process of choosing what to take and what to leave behind. You might be able to mention many different choices and have the whole family participate in the story. You’d be able to go into some details about certain choices and the stories behind individual objects or mementos, as well as the implications of choosing certain things over others.
With only 300 words, it would be advisable to zoom in on one member of the family and to focus on one profound and important choice.
How to write a flash fiction story
Now you have your mini plot, you still need to make sure your flash fiction feels like a complete story. It should still have a beginning, middle, and an end.
Just like a short story, you may need to bring in a little exposition here and there to give texture, context, backstory, and to bring some depth to the characters. But, unlike a short story, you won’t necessarily need to end with a full, detailed resolution. It’s quite common for a flash fiction story to end with a quick twist or plenty of ambiguity.
Flash Fiction is much more about eliciting emotions and provoking thought, than setting up and resolving a complex story.
100 Awesome Flash Fiction Prompts
A young ballet dancer chooses not to tell the other dancers in her troop about a loose paving stone outside their dance studio.
Two sisters realise they’ve both been on a perfect first date … with the same man.
On the car journey home, two parents realise they’ve left their child’s favourite teddy on a park bench several hours away.
A writer suffering from writers’ block looks for inspiration in a strange place.
Set 200 years in the future, a young man realises he’s too emotionally dependent on his robot assistant.
A young woman discovers she’s taken the wrong suitcase home from the airport. The contents of the case make her question her own life choices.
A murderer realises he has only 10 minutes to dispose of a body.
A child decides to walk home by themselves after their parent forgets to pick them up from school … again.
Your protagonist manages to talk the grim reaper out of collecting their soul.
Your protagonist suddenly realises they’ve been living in a simulation.
A young couple has chosen to spend the night in a haunted house to fix their marriage. Your story starts just as things get very weird.
Your protagonist finds a letter they wrote to themselves when they were a teenager.
Your protagonist must decide whether or not to drink from a fountain that erases all painful memories from the mind.
Your protagonist comes across a street called ‘Memory Lane’. They quickly realise the name is eerily apt.
A bride finds out something startling about her future husband an hour before the wedding.
Your protagonist finds an advertisement for a company that promises everlasting youth.
A youngest sibling shows up at a family reunion they weren’t actually invited to.
Your protagonist finds a piece of paper with a spell on it. If they say the words out loud they aren't sure if something terrible or wonderful will happen.
Your protagonist is watching a jazz band play when they realise they know the drummer from somewhere — but where? It takes a whole song for them to figure it out.
Your protagonist must meet their ex for lunch to tell them they’re now engaged. It’s been just a few weeks since they split up.
Two people on a sinking ship must decide who should take the last seat in the last lifeboat.
During a match, a young boxer must decide whether to throw the fight.
Your protagonist must pack their belongings before moving to a new colony on mars.
A pilot realises they have lost control of their aircraft.
Your protagonist doesn’t want to attend their 100th birthday party — and for good reason!
Your protagonist gets stuck in a lift with their ex … 5 minutes after breaking up with them.
A child says goodbye to the fairies in his garden before moving to a new home.
Your protagonist saves someone’s life … and then wishes they hadn’t.
Your protagonist arrives at a blind date. They’ve been set up with someone they actually know a little too well.
Set in a dystopian future in which public displays of affection are banned, your protagonist faces an agonising choice.
An agoraphobic must face their fear in order to save something important.
Your protagonist must make her partner fall out of love with them. Both their lives depend on it.
Your protagonist is hiking with her small children, they come face to face with a grizzly bear and her cubs.
Cinderella and Prince Charming realise they got married too quickly.
A message written in graffiti on a bathroom wall has serious implications for your protagonist.
Your protagonist finds a bag, looks inside, and realises the owner might just be their soulmate.
Your protagonist has been seeing the same stranger everywhere they go for months. They finally decide to confront them.
A couple realise their relationship is over during the trip of a lifetime. They’ve been saving up for the trip for years.
A public debate sees two previously married people letting their private grievances come into their arguments.
Your protagonist plans their escape from a retirement home.
A couple realise their fundamental beliefs are at odds with each other.
An artist develops an obsession with drawing a next-door neighbour.
Your protagonist finds themselves trapped in a cabin with a group of hikers during a heavy snowfall.
An ice skater must face going back on the ice after a dangerous fall.
A couple must decide their plan for New Year’ Eve. They both have secret reasons for their choice.
A family must decide what to take and what to leave behind as a wildfire approaches their home.
Your protagonist is waiting for someone important at the airport. They begin to think that person isn’t going to show up … and then they realise why.
Your protagonist must find their way through a maze. What they find in the middle of the maze is the last thing they were expecting.
An actor waiting in the wings has forgotten his first line.
Your protagonist is wrongly identified as a hero. Do they come clean?
Your protagonist realises their past is catching up with them.
Your protagonist overhears something that has serious implications for them while trying on clothes in a changing room.
Your protagonist is in a costume shop trying to decide what to dress up as for Halloween.
Your protagonist realises they’ve slipped into an alternate dimension.
A surgeon must make an impossible choice on the operating table.
A pregnant journalist interviews the mother of a missing child.
Your protagonist must ask his girlfriend’s father for his blessing, only to discover the father knows his deepest secret.
Your protagonist sees something on social media that will change their life forever.
Two work colleagues realise they’ve been dreaming the same dreams for weeks.
A reluctant daughter comes to terms with having to carry on the family business.
Your protagonist realises she must go on the run.
Two bank robbers disagree on their plan to rob a bank. This leads to a disastrous consequence.
A strange case of deja vous leaves your protagonist convinced of supernatural interference.
A sceptic begins to question their beliefs during a psychic reading.
Your protagonist uncovers a scandal at their workplace.
A hapless cook tries to recreate her late father’s favourite recipes in an effort to feel connected to him.
Your protagonist has a premonition that makes them certain they can’t visit their mother-in-law for Christmas. Now he must convince his husband.
A young backpacker discovers something unexpected in a cave.
An impulsive character and an indecisive character are brought together by chance. They must make an important choice.
Two characters cleaning up after a party discover an object that sheds light on something strange that happened earlier.
Two strangers are trapped together during a blackout.
Your protagonist must take a leap of faith in order to save something important to them.
Your protagonist discovers a huge part of their life has been a lie.
Your protagonist has set up an elaborate way to propose. Inexplicably, everything goes wrong.
Your protagonist must buy a dress for her mother’s funeral.
Your protagonist goes back to her favourite city in the world, only to find it has completely changed.
While stargazing, your protagonist realises the stars are forming secret messages in the sky.
Your protagonist hears a news story on the radio that will mean the world changes forever. However, she seems to be the only person who heard it.
Your protagonist is crossing a frozen lake. They see something under the ice that definitely shouldn’t be there.
A workaholic must come to terms with retirement.
An Olympic athlete must decide whether or not to report their teammate for doping.
A young mother feels isolated from her childless friends.
Your protagonist is about to realise their greatest ambition. Will it be everything they were hoping for?
Onboard a spaceship, a couple prepare to go into stasis for hundreds of years.
Your protagonist has an obsession with thinking about the past.
Set in a post-apocalyptic future, your protagonist meets an unlikely love interest.
Your protagonist visits a place from their childhood and realises their memories of that time might not be accurate at all.
A small child has decided to run away from home. Her parents watch on with amusement as she decides what to put in her backpack.
On a whim, a bus driver decides to radically change his route, much to the chagrin of his passengers.
Dystopian. A couple in love are only allowed to spend time with each other one day a year.
A shapeshifter begins to realise their powers are fading. They must decide what form will be the last one they take before they cannot change again.
The devil visits your protagonist with an offer on her soul.
Your protagonist suddenly has the ability to read minds. There’s only one place they want to go now!
Your very wealthy protagonist has designed a simple test to see who will inherit her estate.
An archaeologist discovers something that will change how we see the history of the world. It could be dangerous. Does he keep it to himself?
Your protagonist must clear out their late mother’s house. She discovers an incredible family secret.
Your protagonist is meeting his brother. They haven’t seen each other for 20 years.
Your protagonist develops the ability to see the world literally through someone else’s eyes.
Your protagonist starts to believe their partner might be a spy.
Your protagonist discovers a hidden camera in their living room.
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A woman loses her young niece in a busy shopping mall.
Three strangers must solve a riddle in order to gain entry to a secret club.
A poor woman must borrow ingredients from her neighbours to bake her husband a birthday cake.
A waiter finally finds out why an old man has been coming to the restaurant where he works every day at exactly the same time.
Two work colleagues must decide which of them is to take the blame for a terrible mistake at work.
Your disgruntled protagonist goes to confront the couple next door about the strange noises they’ve been hearing at night.
A family dinner party sees three characters make three very surprising announcements.
Two women argue over who should get to buy the last dress available in a store. How do they decide who should get it?
A young couple find out they knew (and disliked) each other vehemently as children.
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The next day finds the military part of the Bridger family waiting in one of the larger cargo bays. Paladin company and Shark Platoon are on hand, all in full power armor except for Makula, with the exception of Jaruna who's standing next to Jerry in a family uniform with her shotgun and sword slung over her back. Jerry had also elected for a dress uniform today, though he'd paired it with a 'ceremonial' curaiss that could still take a hit from a plasma cannon or two... and concealed a small shield generator. Mixed with his cloak and the Crimsonhewer war ax on his belt, Jerry thought he looked every bit the barbarian warlord... if a bit too clean cut for a Hollywood depiction of such.
The situation reminded Jerry of a similar reception back on Serbow... but this one was a bit less ceremonial and a bit more... dynamic. They didn't have any formal bonds with Clan Karchara, or their Khan, Komugai. So as a meeting of two new to each other factions, things could get... exciting. Which considering they were talking about Cannidor meant that things could potentially get very violent, very quickly.
They usually didn't. Not any more. Yet... it never helped to play it safe, even with a clan that had a decent reputation like the Karchara. More cut throat clans had been heard to disguise themselves for meetings like this for meetings so they could ambush their targets after all. Plus as always, there was tradition to observe and satisfy. Tradition which could be best summarized as 'Offer one hand, but arm the other.'. The Cannidor were ready to fight a war naked among any people but their own. They were beyond dangerous. So an armed society wasn't so much a polite society as the unarmed were likely mentally infirm, and to be politely left to their own devices.
A sharp whistle from the 1MC draws Jerry from his thoughts.
"Now hear this! The Clan Karchara envoy is arriving!"
The Karchara drop ship slides into view out of the black and makes it's way towards the docking day with all the leisurely grace of a terrestrial shark swimming towards a coral reef. Whoever's piloting it is clearly a hot hand on the stick because the ship moves as smooth as anything Jerry had ever seen out of Cruel Space, extending it's landing gear and coming to a halt with nary a hint of a bounce in it's suspension and shock absorbing gear.
"Hmmm. The Karchara..." Jaruna rumbles. "An interesting contact in Cannidor space to be sure. So to recap what we talked about, they're somewhat on and off again allies of my old clan. Decent types for the most part. No idea who the Khan is now, and a little searching online didn't turn anything up. Don't think the intelligence weasels had anything either. Save that they've been having some internal structural changes. Seized a new planet too, lighting raid, unconventional tactics, whatever that means. Gives them complete control of... ten decently populated and industrialized star systems I think. They're firmly in the middle of the power band for the Khans by that measurement, exact position depends on the number of warriors under arms they can bring to the Golden Khan's muster."
"Right. Well. Guess we'll have to see what Khan Karchara wants to chat about, and hear about this plan of hers."
The Karchara drop ship settles onto it's landing gear, and it's flight crew leaves the engines running. Tradition. You never knew if a reception was actually friendly after all, and it was also a mark of respect for the hosts. You might be asked to fuck off after all.
The forward assault ramp drops, and the honor guard warriors of the Khan march out, in power armor, but with their helmets off, fanning out to cover their leader. The lack of helmets was very much a declaration of intent, the human equivalent of open palms for a Cannidor in power armor.
Jaruna's brow instantly furrows as she scans the faces of the honor guard.
"...Wait. I know some of those girls. One of my aunts, Norkath is there on the left, and that's... but that."
Jerry can hear Jaruna's brain crunching that information.
"...Komugai. You said the Khan's name was Komugai? Not Jelvuna?"
"Definently Komugai."
"...Unless she changed her name... but then would Aunt Norkath join the Karchara proper without her...?"
Jaruna mutters to herself, clearly trying to puzzle whatever's eating at her out, when the sound of heavy boots on the assault ramp sound, and an utterly massive Cannidor woman starts to come into view. She cuts an imposing presence. Her uniform not too far off from Jerry's, a mix of barbarian warlord and modern dress uniform. The massive war ax over her shoulder tipping the scales on the barbarian - modern officer scale towards barbarian. It was easy to miss her other various weapons in the sheer scale of her. Her stark white fur, the three brutal scars across her muzzle, and another two over her left eye, which had a cybernetic replacement.
Khan Karchara stands for a moment, surveying the room silently... and before anyone can say anything, Jaruna breaks the silence;
"...Mom?"
Khan Karchara cuts loose with a booming laugh that reminds Jerry of Khan Isuras, and if this is indeed Jaruna's mother, he can immediately see exactly why the two women cut palms and swore sisterhood. He wouldn't be hard pressed to believe they were actual sisters.
"Heh. Glad to see all that time on Centris hasn't dulled your powers of observation! Always said you were a sharp one."
There's no sarcasm there, a little maternal teasing perhaps, but she's not mocking Jaruna. Anyone with eyes can tell Khan Karchara is damn proud of her child.
"And this'd be my son in law... bit small but hell just from your first date with my little girl I know you're a first class head kicker, plus you already gave me four grandbabies to spoil! Hahah. I suppose these bigguns here are the older girls? I... say. I thought there was three of you."
Karchara points at Makula.
"You're a bit old to be Hippolyta considering she was born a couple weeks ago. Who are you, girl?"
"Makula Sa'Bridger, I was adopted a few days ago. Honored Matron."
Karchara grins, her numerous teeth gleaming in the light of the hangar.
"Matron? Not Khan?"
"You are my mother's mother, standing in my family's clan hold. To refer to your title by right of blood is most appropriate."
Another bark of laughter.
"Well drilled and whip smart I see. You know the ways of our kind well, granddaughter." Karchara smirks, looking smug before turning to her honor guard.
"See girls? Five now! Haha! What a stud of a bull!"
Khan Karchara turns back to Jerry and Jaruna.
"Ah but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's get the formal bit done so we can go jaw a bit and then hopefully I can visit with my eldest daughter, my son in law and these fine young ladies."
She quickly shifts her body a bit, drawing herself up to her full, imposing twelve foot height.
"I am Komugai, Khan of Karchara. I come to broker peace and fellowship between our clans, to join them in a bond of steel that will stand the sword storm for all time."
Jerry nods slowly. More than they'd expected actually. That was laying out intent to conduct some very, very serious negotiations.
"I, Jeremiah, Khan of Bridger, Admiral of this fleet, lord of these proud warriors before you, bid you welcome, Komugai of Karchara, bring your banner among ours, that they might rest together while we discuss the business of peace, and of wars yet to come."
"Well spoken indeed... and the steel in your eyes." Komugai nods slowly. "Yes, I see what you see in him, Jaruna, well past his considerable combat skills. All the better my dear son-in-law that you have already begun working on my grand design... but come, let us dismiss our warriors that they might go and eat, drink and enjoy themselves. We need only you, Jaruna, and perhaps my granddaughters for this business, so that they might learn the ways of leadership."
"I think we can accommodate that." Jerry says before turning and pulling the ax off of his belt and raising it high, an ancient Cannidor signal for attention from the leader of a warband to their warriors.
"Warriors, we walk with friends, show them to the promenade, that they might share our table while we discuss business."
Jerry and Jaruna guide Komugai to the conference room they'd prepared, while Joan and the girls quickly hustle to get their armor stowed and get their tails to the same spot. None of them wanted to miss a minute of this!
Still, the tension in the room's fairly heavy when the door closes, and Jaruna turns on her mother.
"Alright. We got a couple minutes till the girls get up here. What the hell, mom? You changed your name? Took over the Karchara? What the heck is going on?"
Komugai settles herself in a Cannidor scale chair, grinning all the while.
"You should be happier, daughter. This was inspired by you after all. When you left our band. Left the old clan... I knew you were right. We won't speak of that business, but we were obligated... and I should have been brave enough to refuse, but I lacked the standing... and perhaps the courage. So I did what any good Khan worth her blades would do and crammed it down their throats. Broke that clan, took them in, then subsumed the Karchara with my new band. They've got the older name, so I became Khan Karchara instead of remaining Khan Jormuntide. Your Aunt's got the title now. I'd offer it to you, but you've got your own clan now."
"So Jormuntide remains at least." Jaruna shuts her eyes for a second and lets out a slow breath. "You really did all this because of my idealistic and childish temper tantrum nearly a century ago?"
"Hardly childish. Idealistic? Absolutely. There's something to be said for actually trying to live up to our own ideals though. Especially as warriors. However, that is personal business, and we have business to discuss for the Undaunted first."
Komugai turns to face Jerry square on.
"Admiral Bridger, I'm prepared to offer two things to the Undaunted. One. I want to ally myself and my clan formally with the Undaunted. Second, I prepared to gift an entire star system to the same from my holdings. It is populated, but sparsely across three habitable worlds. Ripe for ongoing colonization and industrialization. To keep things fair, people within my clans will be given a chance to move to or from as they please if for some reason they don't wish for Undaunted citizenship. The Undaunted will then have the standing to select a Khan for your Cannidor population, both in Cannidor space, and Undaunted wide. A non voting position at first, but as the clan grows you will achieve that status quickly I believe."
Jerry stops dead. "...Did you just offer us a star system with three habitable worlds?"
"Yes."
"...Okay, I'm on board, but why?"
"Simply put, the worlds are marginal. They need investment. They need settlers. You need worlds. A strong alliance with humanity... and being the first Cannidor clan to extend that hand formally, even having your realm within my space... only benefits me. As I grow my own territory I might even cede another system to the Undaunted. If the Undaunted Khan helps me in those battles I damn sure will." Komugai chuckles. "We'll see how many Khans are stupid enough to try to fight me in the next few decades of course. The other thing I'm trading on is Undaunted naval power. As you just learned, we don't really do navies. I want a professional navy, the Undaunted have agreed to help me get it... and help secure my space once we secure them my end of the bargain, that, Admiral, is where you come in."
Jerry arches an eyebrow and gestures for Komugai to continue.
"Simply put, you need to do what you just did with that border bandit Khan Irgalas, but across Cannidor space. This isn't a done deal. It's up to the Grand Council and I'm but one vote. You already have an in with some of the other Khans, and the Undaunted are doing business with Cannid Solutions. That's an excellent start, and you just made a stellar formal introduction of yourself to Cannidor space. A flawless orbital and ground fight like that'll make sure word gets around that the Undaunted are here... and as dangerous as their rep says they are. I got a little list of the other movers and shakers you need to press the flesh with to win over key parts of the council. You make the rounds, and I'll be doing the same on my end. We meet on Canis Prime for the council meeting, and then we either have a huge brawl to make our point or toast victory with some top quality booze."
"You make it sound pretty simple." Jerry says, clearly not believing there's all there is to it.
Komugai shrugs. "It is simple in its concept. Pressing the flesh and winning the various Khans over won't be. They'll all have their little tests and challenges for you to get the measure of both humans and the Undaunted. We've seen a lot on the trivid as a species. A lot of us have heard stuff in the news or from kin. This is your chance to just straight up show people who you are and what you're about. Because now you're here, and therefore 'real'. If that makes any sense. Cannidor don't really care much about shit happening on the other half of the galactic disk. Undaunted, Humans, being here? Now? Now people will really start paying attention besides idly seeing if there's some interesting amateur porn or more combat footage available."
The Khan points over at Joan, Boudicca, Khutulun and Makula. "These four will likely be very critical to the warrior house's opinion of you... your next generation of warriors, your daughters. How are they treated? How are they trained? What's their mettle like? If they're strong, and worthy, you will impress the khans in a very good way. If my granddaughters are found wanting, they'd question a great many things... and could cause trouble when the Grand Council meets to discuss my little proposal, among other orders of business."
Jerry looks over at Joan and the girls, all four of them are suddenly looking very tense, especially Makula. "I have every confidence in all of my daughters to deal with anything the Khans can throw at them. Even Hippolyta if a trial suited for an infant is on hand."
That gets a chuckle from the girls, relaxing them a hair.
"Still. We'll burn that bridge when we get there. No sense borrowing trouble that hasn't come yet."
Komugai nods. "Wise words. Your diplomats have already approved this plan on their end, they'll send you the itinerary and all the fussy details shortly. Unless you have other questions for me?"
"I've heard there's a grand council of patriarchs too. Would getting in good with them help?"
That gets a full on shrug from the massive warrior woman. "Yes? I mean. Probably. No good way to arrange that though beyond asking my hubby, and I have. He said their council will handle things if it's deemed appropriate, and I don't need to fuss about it too much, and I know a polite way to be asked to fuck off when I hear one... so keep your head on a swivel on that one Jerry, I'm sure the patriarchs are well aware of the Undaunted... and are looking at a possible way to make warriors out of their sons without making their wives piss their frilly panties."
The khan's brilliant white teeth glitter in the room. "Back when we were the more traditional kind of savages back on our homeworld, the bulls did a lot of the leading and the fighting on an individual basis. Women however have always fought the wars. As we grew as a species, developed power armor, space travel, had our population bloom, a bull fighting another in single combat became less practical, and the other traditional male roles of shaman, guide, and brain trust came to the forefront. The council of patriarchs is an old body Jerry. Pre space flight. One of our first forms of international diplomacy between the khans. The matriarchs hold all the power... but when the council of patriarchs speaks, people know to shut up and pay attention."
Jerry nods slowly. Seemed like he'd just have to wait and see... and make sure he made a good impression when the opportunity presented itself.
"Well. I think that concludes everything we need to talk about professionally. Unless you have something else Khan Karchara?"
"Aww, just call me Mama like my big fuzz ball over here used to when we're not working! I've heard a bit about this little fortress of yours, could you all give me the tour? I'd like a chance to talk to all my new granddaughters after all."
Jerry shrugs. "Sure, we'll head up to the Den for a bit, then head down to the promenade to join the girls for some drinks and skewers. Our Cannidor eatery's got the best skewers in wild space whenever we're there."
"Don't I believe it, get to try some more Earth meats too! Bought a little sampler pack from a friend and good goddess, if you start exporting that bacon stuff in bulk, I'm going to invest in a chain of gyms, because there's going to be a lot of girls fighting to keep their girlish figures!"
First Last (SFW) Last (NSFW)

Back in March, I was let go from my job at a local car dealership. No write ups, no warnings verbal or written. I live in Texas, so unfortunately it wasn’t illegal for them to do so, but it’s still not making sense. I was told “performance” was an issue, but I always hit my numbers or went over, showed up on time or early every day, and made sure I was doing what needed to be done (Which is a lot compared to most other employees there). As immature as it sounds, I always had a feeling my manager didn’t like me, only proven when I was let go and she had another manager tell me and she didn’t say a word or even look in my direction. I always tried to be extra friendly with her just to keep on her good side. Tbh, I wasn’t a fan of her myself, I found her to be lazy, out of touch with what our day-to-day processes looked like, and an extreme micromanager, a feeling that was shared by my two coworkers (who both went on to quit a few weeks later). Pretty regularly, she would decide on a whim to rework our job description, commission scale (my personal commission went from roughly $800/mo to $400/mo), and positions as a whole, then a week later have a “meeting” where she would tell myself and the two other agents that we needed to follow the new guidelines closer, then a little bit later say something that completely contradicted herself (ex: “it takes 30 days to form a new habit” a few days after saying that a week in we should have it down perfect). As infuriating as it was, any frustration or feelings I needed to get out were always saved for outside of work and only said to my two coworkers or best friend. I tried to relate to her, show her tik toks, talk about movies and music that we both liked, and I thought that was at least keeping us on good terms with each other until I was let go seemingly out of nowhere. I’m not sure what I did wrong, after I left that day she told my coworkers that it was actually because I had a “bad attitude”. I understand that psychologically, our true feelings always show one way or another, but I felt that I was keeping control of my negative feelings towards her. Now I have found out that when the jobs I apply to call to verify employment, she is telling them horrible things about how I am a bad employee and shouldn’t be hired. I’ve done 200+ applications, at least 30 interviews, and I usually get ghosted after the interview, which I feel is a result of her bad mouthing me. I’d love to pursue a defamation case against her, especially because she is retaliating against my two coworkers in the same way, but without a job I don’t have the funds to consider that right now. I’m really just trying to get a job so I can pay my rent, I live in a smaller city so we don’t have as many employment resources available but I have been using the ones we have, still with no results. Any suggestions on where to go from here?

Welcome to the newest edition of BoxOffice Long Range Forecast.
We're making long range predictions for films, 4 weeks out from their premieres. You will predict the opening weekend, domestic total and worldwide gross of this film. These predictions will be open for 48 hours and the results will be polled to form a consensus and posted the next week.
So let's meet the one film for the week.

Inside Out 2

The sequel to Inside Out (2015), the film is directed by Kelsey Mann (in his feature directorial debut) and written by Meg LeFauve and Dave Holstein. It stars the voices of Amy Poehler, Phyllis Smith, Lewis Black, Diane Lane, and Kyle MacLachlan, Tony Hale, Liza Lapira, Maya Hawke, Ayo Edebiri, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Paul Walter Hauser, and Kensington Tallman. The film focuses on Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear and Disgust, who are astonished when new emotions are introduced in Riley's mind.
Now that you've met this week's new release. Let's look at some pros and cons.

PROS

• Inside Out is one of Pixar's most beloved films from the 2010s onward, so there's already a built-in audience for the film.
  
• Despite having to compete with Minions a few weeks later, the film earned a massive $858 million worldwide. As previously said, it already has a huge built-in audience.
  
• The trailers and synopsis have offered a pretty intriguing look at the sequel: Riley growing up, and the addition of new emotions. So the film can avoid feeling repetitive compared to the original.
  
• Its sole animated competition by the time it hits theaters is The Garfield Movie, which will be 3 weeks old by that point. Considering the audience's familiarity with the film, there's a chance audiences prioritize Inside Out 2 over Garfield.
  
• It's just one day, but so far, the pre-sales look incredibly good.
  

CONS

• Pixar and Disney have had an... underwhelming run ever since they returned to theaters in 2021. Pixar had a huge bomb with Lightyear, and while Elemental had great legs, it barely broke even at best. Disney, meanwhile, had it worse: Encanto underwhelmed at the box office before blowing up on streaming, Strange World was one of the biggest bombs in history, and Wish was another colossal bomb. Inside Out 2 won't fare this badly, but it's a sign that their brands have taken a dive in the past years.
  
• The original's director and writer Pete Docter is not back in his roles. While it's unlikely audiences pay much attention to who is involved on an animated film, Docter's involvement in these two roles is usually a sign of guaranteed quality (Monsters, Inc., Up, Inside Out and Soul). His only involvement was that the film would use his "five to 27 emotions" idea.
  
• The film will face Despicable Me 4 three weeks later, which could eat into its family demographic.
  

And here's the past results.

Movie	Release Date	Distributor	Domestic Debut	Domestic Total	Worldwide Total
IF	May 17	Paramount	$26,625,000	$87,791,666	$166,888,888
Back to Black	May 17	Focus Features	$7,895,000	$18,987,500	$39,750,000
The Strangers: Chapter 1	May 17	Lionsgate	$13,863,636	$36,704,545	$60,218,750
Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga	May 24	Warner Bros.	$45,443,378	$149,213,403	$352,304,347
The Garfield Movie	May 24	Sony	$58,104,545	$158,836,363	$391,090,909
Young Woman and the Sea	May 31	Disney	$4,700,000	$12,855,555	$21,587,500
Bad Boys: Ride or Die	June 7	Sony	$63,437,500	$180,437,500	$389,200,000
The Watchers	June 7	Warner Bros.	$15,333,333	$41,708,333	$71,291,666

Next week, we're predicting Kinds of Kindness and The Bikeriders.

Hi Everyone. I keep getting CTD on this crashlog. Can someone please help. I think it is a non-mod related issue, but if you could tell me which mods I need to disable in order to fix it, that would be awesome.
Fallout 4 v1.10.163
Buffout 4 v1.28.6
Unhandled exception "EXCEPTION_ACCESS_VIOLATION" at 0x7FF74A091E80 Fallout4.exe+03D1E80

\[Compatibility\] F4EE: false \[Crashlog\] AutoOpen: true PromptUpload: true \[Fixes\] ActorIsHostileToActor: true CellInit: true CreateD3DAndSwapChain: true EncounterZoneReset: true GreyMovies: true MagicEffectApplyEvent: true MovementPlanner: true PackageAllocateLocation: true SafeExit: true TESObjectREFRGetEncounterZone: true UnalignedLoad: true UtilityShader: true \[Patches\] Achievements: true ArchiveLimit: false BSMTAManager: true BSPreCulledObjects: true BSTextureStreamerLocalHeap: false HavokMemorySystem: true INISettingCollection: false InputSwitch: false MaxStdIO: 2048 MemoryManager: true MemoryManagerDebug: false ScaleformAllocator: true SmallBlockAllocator: true WorkshopMenu: true \[Warnings\] CreateTexture2D: true ImageSpaceAdapter: true 

SYSTEM SPECS:

OS: Microsoft Windows 11 Home v10.0.22631 CPU: GenuineIntel 12th Gen Intel(R) Core(TM) i7-12800H GPU #1: Nvidia GA103M \[GeForce RTX 3080 Ti Laptop GPU\] GPU #2: Microsoft Basic Render Driver PHYSICAL MEMORY: 11.05 GB/31.69 GB 

PROBABLE CALL STACK:

\[ 0\] 0x7FF74A091E80 Fallout4.exe+03D1E80 -> 869027+0x20 \[ 1\] 0x7FF74A0740F5 Fallout4.exe+03B40F5 -> 1491658+0x4D5 \[ 2\] 0x7FF74A03181C Fallout4.exe+037181C -> 221966+0xDC \[ 3\] 0x7FF74A02CB8E Fallout4.exe+036CB8E -> 93205+0xE \[ 4\] 0x7FF74B9638C2 Fallout4.exe+1CA38C2 -> 1338062+0xF2 \[ 5\] 0x7FF74B963C1C Fallout4.exe+1CA3C1C -> 1310667+0x20C \[ 6\] 0x7FF74AB7CA24 Fallout4.exe+0EBCA24 -> 1123858+0x364 \[ 7\] 0x7FF74AB5B7CB Fallout4.exe+0E9B7CB -> 146861+0xB6B \[ 8\] 0x7FF74AA00D85 Fallout4.exe+0D40D85 -> 222694+0x15 \[ 9\] 0x7FF74B810F26 Fallout4.exe+1B50F26 -> 329005+0xC6 \[10\] 0x7FF74B811432 Fallout4.exe+1B51432 -> 194800+0x202 \[11\] 0x7FF74B813F67 Fallout4.exe+1B53F67 -> 1492866+0x67 \[12\] 0x7FF74B7DCFED Fallout4.exe+1B1CFED -> 1079791+0x3D \[13\] 0x7FFD8685257D KERNEL32.DLL+001257D \[14\] 0x7FFD8890AA48 ntdll.dll+005AA48 

REGISTERS:

RAX 0x0 (size\_t) RCX 0x1E05BA9F800 (void\*) RDX 0x6EC49BF250 (void\*) RBX 0x0 (size\_t) RSP 0x6EC49BF140 (void\*) RBP 0x6EC49BF249 (void\*) RSI 0x6EC49BF250 (void\*) RDI 0x1E05BA9F800 (void\*) R8 0x1E009CFC7B0 (void\*) R9 0x8 (size\_t) R10 0x6EC49BF200 (BSTArrayBase::IAllocatorFunctor\*) R11 0x6EC49BF2C8 (void\*) R12 0xE067C430 (size\_t) R13 0x1DFFF2EAB00 (TESObjectCELL\*) File: "PRP.esp" Flags: 0x0004000B Form ID: 0x00017DF7 Form Type: 63 Full Name: "Museum of Freedom" R14 0x1E0962BD900 (bhkWorld\*) R15 0x1E05BA9F800 (void\*) 

STACK:

\[RSP+0 \] 0x1E0661911C0 (NiNode\*) Name: "00017DF7\_Physics" \[RSP+8 \] 0x7FF74B863C05 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1BA3C05) \[RSP+10 \] 0x6EC49BF249 (void\*) \[RSP+18 \] 0x1E0633FA240 (void\*) \[RSP+20 \] 0x1E009D98800 (void\*) \[RSP+28 \] 0x1E0633FA240 (void\*) \[RSP+30 \] 0x60 (size\_t) \[RSP+38 \] 0x7FF74A0740F5 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+03B40F5) \[RSP+40 \] 0x1E009D987FC (void\*) \[RSP+48 \] 0x6EC49BF250 (void\*) \[RSP+50 \] 0x1E0633FA240 (void\*) \[RSP+58 \] 0x1E064001600 (BSPortal\*) \[RSP+60 \] 0x1E000000007 (void\*) \[RSP+68 \] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+70 \] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+78 \] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+80 \] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+88 \] 0x1E009D98800 (void\*) \[RSP+90 \] 0x1E0962BD900 (bhkWorld\*) \[RSP+98 \] 0x1E009D987FC (void\*) \[RSP+A0 \] 0xE (size\_t) \[RSP+A8 \] 0x1E03019C4DE (size\_t) \[RSP+B0 \] 0x1DF417F52B0 (void\*) \[RSP+B8 \] 0x7FF70020233A (size\_t) \[RSP+C0 \] 0x7FF74C9096C8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2C496C8) \[RSP+C8 \] 0x1E0960D3BC0 (void\*) \[RSP+D0 \] 0x7FF700000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+D8 \] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E0 \] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E8 \] 0x1E000000000 (void\*) \[RSP+F0 \] 0x1E063449D00 (BGSCombinedCellGeometryDB::LoadTask\*) \[RSP+F8 \] 0x7FF74A029321 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+0369321) \[RSP+100\] 0x1E0633FA240 (void\*) \[RSP+108\] 0x7FF74B7D093F (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1B1093F) \[RSP+110\] 0x1DFFF2EAB00 (TESObjectCELL\*) File: "PRP.esp" Flags: 0x0004000B Form ID: 0x00017DF7 Form Type: 63 Full Name: "Museum of Freedom" \[RSP+118\] 0x1E0E067C430 (size\_t) \[RSP+120\] 0x6EC49BF1E4 (void\*) \[RSP+128\] 0x6EC49BF1C0 (void\*) \[RSP+130\] 0x1DFF40D2B00 (IOManager\*) \[RSP+138\] 0x1DF417F52B0 (void\*) \[RSP+140\] 0x966939A4 (size\_t) \[RSP+148\] 0x1E063449D00 (BGSCombinedCellGeometryDB::LoadTask\*) \[RSP+150\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+158\] 0x1DFFF2EAB00 (TESObjectCELL\*) File: "PRP.esp" Flags: 0x0004000B Form ID: 0x00017DF7 Form Type: 63 Full Name: "Museum of Freedom" \[RSP+160\] 0x1 (size\_t) \[RSP+168\] 0x7FF74A03181C (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+037181C) \[RSP+170\] 0x1E (size\_t) \[RSP+178\] 0x7FF75E83E45C (size\_t) \[RSP+180\] 0x6067C430 (size\_t) \[RSP+188\] 0xEC3BD925 (size\_t) \[RSP+190\] 0x1E063449D00 (BGSCombinedCellGeometryDB::LoadTask\*) \[RSP+198\] 0x7FF74A02CB8E (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+036CB8E) \[RSP+1A0\] 0x1E063449D00 (BGSCombinedCellGeometryDB::LoadTask\*) \[RSP+1A8\] 0x1DF417F52B0 (void\*) \[RSP+1B0\] 0x966939A4 (size\_t) \[RSP+1B8\] 0x1E (size\_t) \[RSP+1C0\] 0x2 (size\_t) \[RSP+1C8\] 0x7FF74B9638C2 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1CA38C2) \[RSP+1D0\] 0x2 (size\_t) \[RSP+1D8\] 0x1 (size\_t) \[RSP+1E0\] 0x2 (size\_t) \[RSP+1E8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+1F0\] 0x32 (size\_t) \[RSP+1F8\] 0x1E (size\_t) \[RSP+200\] 0x2 (size\_t) \[RSP+208\] 0x3 (size\_t) \[RSP+210\] 0x12C (size\_t) \[RSP+218\] 0x1 (size\_t) \[RSP+220\] 0x1DFF40D2B00 (IOManager\*) \[RSP+228\] 0x7FF74B963C1C (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1CA3C1C) \[RSP+230\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+238\] 0x7FF700000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+240\] 0x1E063449D00 (BGSCombinedCellGeometryDB::LoadTask\*) \[RSP+248\] 0x30D40 (size\_t) \[RSP+250\] 0x4096CBE5 (size\_t) \[RSP+258\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+260\] 0x1DFFF2EAB00 (TESObjectCELL\*) File: "PRP.esp" Flags: 0x0004000B Form ID: 0x00017DF7 Form Type: 63 Full Name: "Museum of Freedom" \[RSP+268\] 0x1DFF4062080 (PlayerCharacter\*) Object Reference: File: "You Are Exceptional.esp" Flags: 0x00040009 Form ID: 0x00000007 Form Type: 45 File: "" Flags: 0x00420448 Form ID: 0x00000014 Form Type: 65 \[RSP+270\] 0xFFFFFFFF (size\_t) \[RSP+278\] 0x6EC49BF6E4 (void\*) \[RSP+280\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+288\] 0x7FF74AB7CA24 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+0EBCA24) \[RSP+290\] 0x6E00000001 (size\_t) \[RSP+298\] 0x6EC49BF4D0 (void\*) \[RSP+2A0\] 0x1DF1C18FE00 (void\*) \[RSP+2A8\] 0x1DFF40625F8 (void\*) \[RSP+2B0\] 0x1DFF4614E00 (void\*) \[RSP+2B8\] 0x1DFF4614E00 (void\*) \[RSP+2C0\] 0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF (size\_t) \[RSP+2C8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+2D0\] 0x440D0000 (size\_t) \[RSP+2D8\] 0xC2580000 (size\_t) \[RSP+2E0\] 0x20 (size\_t) \[RSP+2E8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+2F0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+2F8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+300\] 0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF (size\_t) \[RSP+308\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+310\] 0xA6DA89653331 (size\_t) \[RSP+318\] 0x7FF74AFF0B5F (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1330B5F) \[RSP+320\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+328\] 0x4044F5 (void\* -> XINPUT1\_3.dll+00044F5) \[RSP+330\] 0x1DF1C0D2088 (void\*) \[RSP+338\] 0x7FF749E4D27B (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+018D27B) \[RSP+340\] 0x440D0000 (size\_t) \[RSP+348\] 0xBF8000004284F738 (size\_t) \[RSP+350\] 0x35033379 (size\_t) \[RSP+358\] 0x7FFCFBDBBDCE (void\* -> Buffout4.dll+004BDCE) \[RSP+360\] 0x1DF1C0D2088 (void\*) \[RSP+368\] 0x7FF749CE44E3 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+00244E3) \[RSP+370\] 0x7FF74C909DB8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2C49DB8) \[RSP+378\] 0x6EC49BF540 (void\*) \[RSP+380\] 0x1DFF45807F0 (void\*) \[RSP+388\] 0x1DFF4062080 (PlayerCharacter\*) Object Reference: File: "You Are Exceptional.esp" Flags: 0x00040009 Form ID: 0x00000007 Form Type: 45 File: "" Flags: 0x00420448 Form ID: 0x00000014 Form Type: 65 \[RSP+390\] 0x1DFF4580808 (void\*) \[RSP+398\] 0x7FF749E4C85D (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+018C85D) \[RSP+3A0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+3A8\] 0x6EC49BF539 (void\*) \[RSP+3B0\] 0x1DF1C3B99D0 (void\*) \[RSP+3B8\] 0x7FF74A054B20 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+0394B20) \[RSP+3C0\] 0x1E014C86140 (void\*) \[RSP+3C8\] 0x7FF74B7D09C3 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1B109C3) \[RSP+3D0\] 0x7FF74C909DB8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2C49DB8) \[RSP+3D8\] 0x6EC49BF520 (void\*) \[RSP+3E0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+3E8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+3F0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+3F8\] 0x7FF700000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+400\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+408\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+410\] 0x6E00000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+418\] 0x7FF700000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+420\] 0x1DFF4062080 (PlayerCharacter\*) Object Reference: File: "You Are Exceptional.esp" Flags: 0x00040009 Form ID: 0x00000007 Form Type: 45 File: "" Flags: 0x00420448 Form ID: 0x00000014 Form Type: 65 \[RSP+428\] 0xFFFFFFFF (size\_t) \[RSP+430\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+438\] 0x1DFF40625F8 (void\*) \[RSP+440\] 0x1DF1C3B99D0 (void\*) \[RSP+448\] 0x6EC49BF758 (void\*) \[RSP+450\] 0x6EC49BF760 (void\*) \[RSP+458\] 0x7FF749DBEE12 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+00FEE12) \[RSP+460\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+468\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+470\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+478\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+480\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+488\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+490\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+498\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4A0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4A8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4B0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4B8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4C0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4C8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4D0\] 0x1DF00000000 (void\*) \[RSP+4D8\] 0x1DFF4062080 (PlayerCharacter\*) Object Reference: File: "You Are Exceptional.esp" Flags: 0x00040009 Form ID: 0x00000007 Form Type: 45 File: "" Flags: 0x00420448 Form ID: 0x00000014 Form Type: 65 \[RSP+4E0\] 0x1DF1C18FE01 (void\*) \[RSP+4E8\] 0x1DF1C18FE01 (void\*) \[RSP+4F0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+4F8\] 0x7FF74F8A8000 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8000) \[RSP+500\] 0x1DFF40625F8 (void\*) \[RSP+508\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+510\] 0x6EC49BF760 (void\*) \[RSP+518\] 0x7FF74AB5B7CB (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+0E9B7CB) \[RSP+520\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+528\] 0x6EC49BF758 (void\*) \[RSP+530\] 0x1DF1C3B99D0 (void\*) \[RSP+538\] 0x1 (size\_t) \[RSP+540\] 0x47A01000C7500800 (size\_t) \[RSP+548\] 0x3F80000045E814B7 (size\_t) \[RSP+550\] 0xCB4A29F10001 (size\_t) \[RSP+558\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+560\] 0x1E005328A40 (BGSLocation\*) File: "Unofficial Fallout 4 Patch.esp" Flags: 0x00000009 Form ID: 0x0001D807 Form Type: 107 Full Name: "Museum of Freedom" \[RSP+568\] 0x3F80000045600000 (size\_t) \[RSP+570\] 0x7FF7503E3AB8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+6723AB8) \[RSP+578\] 0x7FF74C5211A9 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+28611A9) \[RSP+580\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+588\] 0x1DFFF2EAB00 (TESObjectCELL\*) File: "PRP.esp" Flags: 0x0004000B Form ID: 0x00017DF7 Form Type: 63 Full Name: "Museum of Freedom" \[RSP+590\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+598\] 0x440D0000 (size\_t) \[RSP+5A0\] 0xC2800000 (size\_t) \[RSP+5A8\] 0xBFC90FD980000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+5B0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+5B8\] 0x7FF749FFD9C0 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+033D9C0) \[RSP+5C0\] 0x1DFFFFD1E40 (TESObjectREFR\*) Object Reference: File: "Fallout4.esm" Flags: 0x00000019 Form ID: 0x00077CFC Form Type: 32 File: "Fallout4.esm" Flags: 0x00000409 Form ID: 0x0001AC07 Form Type: 64 \[RSP+5C8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+5D0\] 0x10000000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+5D8\] 0xFFFFFF01 (size\_t) \[RSP+5E0\] 0x1DF1C151DE0 (void\*) \[RSP+5E8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+5F0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+5F8\] 0x7FF700000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+600\] 0x7FF7503E3AF0 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+6723AF0) \[RSP+608\] 0x7FF74C5211A9 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+28611A9) \[RSP+610\] 0x2 (size\_t) \[RSP+618\] 0x10000000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+620\] 0x2000000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+628\] 0xC0F (size\_t) \[RSP+630\] 0x7FF74C90A948 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2C4A948) \[RSP+638\] 0x7FF7503E3AF0 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+6723AF0) \[RSP+640\] 0x7FF7503E3AD8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+6723AD8) \[RSP+648\] 0x7FF74C520BDB (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2860BDB) \[RSP+650\] 0x2 (size\_t) \[RSP+658\] 0x7FF74C5418FE (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+28818FE) \[RSP+660\] 0x1E012704A60 (void\*) \[RSP+668\] 0x1E0339F1440 (BSFadeNode\*) Name: "MetalBarrel02" \[RSP+670\] 0x7FF74C90A948 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2C4A948) \[RSP+678\] 0x7FF7503E3AD8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+6723AD8) \[RSP+680\] 0x1E0968CFBE0 (void\*) \[RSP+688\] 0x7FF74C540FC3 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2880FC3) \[RSP+690\] 0x2 (size\_t) \[RSP+698\] 0x1E01011E700 (char\*) "@" \[RSP+6A0\] 0x1E011486C00 (void\*) \[RSP+6A8\] 0x1E01149D420 (void\*) \[RSP+6B0\] 0x1E011486C00 (void\*) \[RSP+6B8\] 0x7FF74C4ED51D (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+282D51D) \[RSP+6C0\] 0x1DF1C19A400 (BSShaderAccumulator\*) \[RSP+6C8\] 0x1DF4F444880 (BSSkyShaderProperty\*) Name: "01\_VW\_Oben\_O" \[RSP+6D0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+6D8\] 0x1DF1C19A400 (BSShaderAccumulator\*) \[RSP+6E0\] 0xCB4A29F109C7 (size\_t) \[RSP+6E8\] 0x6EC49BF878 (void\*) \[RSP+6F0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+6F8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+700\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+708\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+710\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+718\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+720\] 0x1DF417F6818 (void\*) \[RSP+728\] 0x7FF74F8A8080 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8080) \[RSP+730\] 0x7FF74F8A8088 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8088) \[RSP+738\] 0x1E0124ED600 (BSShaderAccumulator\*) \[RSP+740\] 0x1E04C0FC900 (BSLightingShaderProperty\*) Name: "C:\\Projects\\Fallout4\\Build\\PC\\Data\\materials\\Architecture\\Buildings\\WoodTrimWhite01.BGSM" \[RSP+748\] 0x7FF74C4ECEEE (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+282CEEE) \[RSP+750\] 0x1E0968CFBE0 (void\*) \[RSP+758\] 0x1E0124ED600 (BSShaderAccumulator\*) \[RSP+760\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+768\] 0x1DF417F6800 (void\*) \[RSP+770\] 0x1DF417F6810 (void\*) \[RSP+778\] 0x7FF74C521B67 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+2861B67) \[RSP+780\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+788\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+790\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+798\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+7A0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+7A8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+7B0\] 0x7FF74F8A8084 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8084) \[RSP+7B8\] 0x7FF74F8A8080 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8080) \[RSP+7C0\] 0x7FF74F8A8088 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8088) \[RSP+7C8\] 0x1 (size\_t) \[RSP+7D0\] 0x1DF1C18FE40 (void\*) \[RSP+7D8\] 0x6EC2B2FAB0 (void\*) \[RSP+7E0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+7E8\] 0x7FF74AA00D85 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+0D40D85) \[RSP+7F0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+7F8\] 0x7FF700000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+800\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+808\] 0x7FFD86234201 (void\* -> KERNELBASE.dll+0034201) \[RSP+810\] 0x7FF74F8A8BB8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8BB8) \[RSP+818\] 0x7FF74B810F26 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1B50F26) \[RSP+820\] 0x7FF74F8A8BB8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8BB8) \[RSP+828\] 0x7FF74F8A8BB8 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8BB8) \[RSP+830\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+838\] 0x7FFD862678CD (void\* -> KERNELBASE.dll+00678CD) \[RSP+840\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+848\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+850\] 0x7FF74F8BEA40 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BFEA40) \[RSP+858\] 0x1 (size\_t) \[RSP+860\] 0x7FF74F8A8B48 (BSJobs::JobThread\*) \[RSP+868\] 0x7FF74B811432 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1B51432) \[RSP+870\] 0x1 (size\_t) \[RSP+878\] 0x7FF74F8A8B68 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+5BE8B68) \[RSP+880\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+888\] 0x6EC49BFA20 (void\*) \[RSP+890\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+898\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+8A0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+8A8\] 0x7FF74B813F67 (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1B53F67) \[RSP+8B0\] 0x7FF74F8A8B48 (BSJobs::JobThread\*) \[RSP+8B8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+8C0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+8C8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+8D0\] 0x7FF74F8A8B48 (BSJobs::JobThread\*) \[RSP+8D8\] 0x7FF74B7DCFED (void\* -> Fallout4.exe+1B1CFED) \[RSP+8E0\] 0x4C14 (size\_t) \[RSP+8E8\] 0x6EC49BFA40 (void\*) \[RSP+8F0\] 0x1DF1C16BC90 (void\*) \[RSP+8F8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+900\] 0x7FF74F8A8B48 (BSJobs::JobThread\*) \[RSP+908\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+910\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+918\] 0x7FFD8685257D (void\* -> KERNEL32.DLL+001257D) \[RSP+920\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+928\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+930\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+938\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+940\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+948\] 0x7FFD8890AA48 (void\* -> ntdll.dll+005AA48) \[RSP+950\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+958\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+960\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+968\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+970\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+978\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+980\] 0x89827F0E00000000 (size\_t) \[RSP+988\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+990\] 0x4F0FFFFFB30 (size\_t) \[RSP+998\] 0x7FFD8635CBB0 (void\* -> KERNELBASE.dll+015CBB0) \[RSP+9A0\] 0x6EC49BE280 (void\*) \[RSP+9A8\] 0xD2F80001FFF43EDE (size\_t) \[RSP+9B0\] 0x7FFD0FB7B4BE (size\_t) \[RSP+9B8\] 0x6EC49BE280 (void\*) \[RSP+9C0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+9C8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+9D0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+9D8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+9E0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+9E8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+9F0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+9F8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A00\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A08\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A10\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A18\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A20\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A28\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A30\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A38\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A40\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A48\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A50\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A58\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A60\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A68\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A70\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A78\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A80\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A88\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A90\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+A98\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AA0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AA8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AB0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AB8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AC0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AC8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AD0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AD8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AE0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AE8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AF0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+AF8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B00\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B08\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B10\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B18\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B20\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B28\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B30\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B38\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B40\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B48\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B50\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B58\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B60\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B68\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B70\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B78\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B80\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B88\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B90\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+B98\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BA0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BA8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BB0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BB8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BC0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BC8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BD0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BD8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BE0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BE8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BF0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+BF8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C00\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C08\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C10\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C18\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C20\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C28\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C30\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C38\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C40\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C48\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C50\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C58\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C60\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C68\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C70\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C78\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C80\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C88\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C90\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+C98\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CA0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CA8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CB0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CB8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CC0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CC8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CD0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CD8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CE0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CE8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CF0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+CF8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D00\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D08\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D10\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D18\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D20\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D28\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D30\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D38\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D40\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D48\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D50\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D58\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D60\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D68\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D70\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D78\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D80\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D88\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D90\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+D98\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DA0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DA8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DB0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DB8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DC0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DC8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DD0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DD8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DE0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DE8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DF0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+DF8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E00\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E08\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E10\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E18\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E20\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E28\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E30\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E38\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E40\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E48\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E50\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E58\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E60\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E68\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E70\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E78\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E80\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E88\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E90\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+E98\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+EA0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+EA8\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+EB0\] 0x0 (size\_t) \[RSP+EB8\] 0x0 (size\_t) 

MODULES:

XINPUT1\_3.dll 0x000000400000 mdnsNSP.dll 0x00006C1F0000 steam\_api64.dll 0x00006C330000 X3DAudio1\_7.dll 0x00006C370000 d3d11.dll 0x000180000000 PSAPI.DLL 0x01DF00000000 Fallout4.exe 0x7FF749CC0000 ResampleDmo.DLL 0x7FFCF9680000 DSOUND.DLL 0x7FFCF9740000 XAudio2\_7.dll 0x7FFCF99B0000 d3dcompiler\_46e.dll 0x7FFCFA2A0000 gameoverlayrenderer64.dll 0x7FFCFA6A0000 XDI.dll 0x7FFCFA840000 UnlimitedSurvivalMode.dll 0x7FFCFA8B0000 ToYourFaceFO4.dll 0x7FFCFA900000 SprintSpeedController.dll 0x7FFCFA950000 RobCo\_Patcher.dll 0x7FFCFA9A0000 RememberPickAngleUpdated.dll 0x7FFCFAA80000 ReloadFix.dll 0x7FFCFAB40000 PRKF.dll 0x7FFCFAEE0000 PrivateProfileRedirector.dll 0x7FFCFAF70000 pppl.dll 0x7FFCFAFD0000 po3\_SimpleOffenceSuppressionF4.dll 0x7FFCFB010000 Outfit-ReDress-Fix.dll 0x7FFCFB0A0000 mcm.dll 0x7FFCFB3E0000 LighthousePapyrusExtender.dll 0x7FFCFB480000 Interior-NavCut-Fix.dll 0x7FFCFB5B0000 HighFPSPhysicsFix.dll 0x7FFCFB600000 GCBugFix.dll 0x7FFCFB690000 GardenOfEdenPapyrusExtender.dll 0x7FFCFB6F0000 EnergyWeaponCalcFix.dll 0x7FFCFB990000 crafting\_highlight\_fix.dll 0x7FFCFBB70000 ClassicHolsteredWeapons.dll 0x7FFCFBBC0000 CCExtenderF4.dll 0x7FFCFBC70000 BulletCountedReload.dll 0x7FFCFBCE0000 Buffout4.dll 0x7FFCFBD70000 BakaMaxPapyrusOps.dll 0x7FFCFC0D0000 BackportedBA2Support.dll 0x7FFCFC180000 steamclient64.dll 0x7FFCFD7D0000 D3DCOMPILER\_43.dll 0x7FFCFEE50000 cudart64\_75.dll 0x7FFCFF0C0000 GFSDK\_GodraysLib.x64.dll 0x7FFCFF120000 GFSDK\_SSAO\_D3D11.win64.dll 0x7FFCFF180000 MSVCR110.dll 0x7FFCFF210000 flexRelease\_x64.dll 0x7FFCFF2F0000 IPHLPAPI.DLL 0x7FFCFF440000 MSVCP110.dll 0x7FFCFFA00000 f4se\_1\_10\_163.dll 0x7FFCFFAB0000 BlockingOverhaul.dll 0x7FFD194E0000 msdmo.dll 0x7FFD19BD0000 bink2w64.dll 0x7FFD1A610000 tier0\_s64.dll 0x7FFD1A750000 encounter\_zone\_recalculation.dll 0x7FFD1AA00000 BetterConsole.dll 0x7FFD1AA30000 WeaponDebrisCrashFix.dll 0x7FFD21660000 ArmorPenetrationBugFix.dll 0x7FFD21680000 vstdlib\_s64.dll 0x7FFD216D0000 f4se\_steam\_loader.dll 0x7FFD22580000 SprintStutteringFix.dll 0x7FFD22640000 d3dx11\_43.dll 0x7FFD41360000 nvToolsExt64\_1.dll 0x7FFD413B0000 flexExtRelease\_x64.dll 0x7FFD41490000 usvfs\_x64.dll 0x7FFD477B0000 webio.dll 0x7FFD48CD0000 ncryptsslp.dll 0x7FFD5E130000 CONCRT140.dll 0x7FFD5E4C0000 winmmbase.dll 0x7FFD5FE30000 Windows.UI.dll 0x7FFD5FE60000 VCRUNTIME140.dll 0x7FFD68C60000 VCRUNTIME140\_1.dll 0x7FFD68C80000 MSVCP140.dll 0x7FFD68C90000 textinputframework.dll 0x7FFD6D960000 OneCoreCommonProxyStub.dll 0x7FFD6DB70000 nvwgf2umx.dll 0x7FFD6E290000 AUDIOSES.DLL 0x7FFD72490000 MMDevApi.dll 0x7FFD72CF0000 WINSPOOL.DRV 0x7FFD73BC0000 COMCTL32.dll 0x7FFD73C70000 MpOav.dll 0x7FFD74560000 amsi.dll 0x7FFD745F0000 fastprox.dll 0x7FFD74B10000 nvgpucomp64.dll 0x7FFD74FA0000 wbemsvc.dll 0x7FFD77BF0000 NvMessageBus.dll 0x7FFD77CB0000 wbemcomn.dll 0x7FFD78050000 nvapi64.dll 0x7FFD780D0000 drvstore.dll 0x7FFD79FD0000 MSIMG32.dll 0x7FFD7A150000 wbemprox.dll 0x7FFD7A260000 cryptnet.dll 0x7FFD7A2E0000 nvldumdx.dll 0x7FFD7A360000 OneCoreUAPCommonProxyStub.dll 0x7FFD7A690000 WINMM.dll 0x7FFD7AD30000 VERSION.dll 0x7FFD7B250000 rasadhlp.dll 0x7FFD7B260000 fwpuclnt.dll 0x7FFD7B490000 dhcpcsvc.DLL 0x7FFD7C640000 dhcpcsvc6.DLL 0x7FFD7C660000 WINHTTP.dll 0x7FFD7CF50000 CoreUIComponents.dll 0x7FFD7D850000 avrt.dll 0x7FFD7DE60000 directxdatabasehelper.dll 0x7FFD7DFA0000 d3d11.dll 0x7FFD7F450000 dcomp.dll 0x7FFD7F6B0000 CoreMessaging.dll 0x7FFD7FD50000 MSVCP140\_ATOMIC\_WAIT.dll 0x7FFD7FEC0000 apphelp.dll 0x7FFD80130000 UxTheme.dll 0x7FFD80230000 dxgi.dll 0x7FFD80550000 dwmapi.dll 0x7FFD80660000 WINNSI.DLL 0x7FFD80700000 dxcore.dll 0x7FFD80740000 DbgHelp.dll 0x7FFD83220000 resourcepolicyclient.dll 0x7FFD83660000 wintypes.dll 0x7FFD83990000 windows.storage.dll 0x7FFD83AD0000 HID.DLL 0x7FFD843D0000 IpHlpAPI.dll 0x7FFD846A0000 DNSAPI.dll 0x7FFD846D0000 UMPDC.dll 0x7FFD849F0000 POWRPROF.dll 0x7FFD84A10000 Secur32.dll 0x7FFD84A80000 schannel.DLL 0x7FFD84B00000 kernel.appcore.dll 0x7FFD84C00000 rsaenh.dll 0x7FFD84C20000 SSPICLI.DLL 0x7FFD84F00000 MSWSOCK.dll 0x7FFD85110000 USERENV.dll 0x7FFD851B0000 CRYPTSP.dll 0x7FFD85330000 CRYPTBASE.DLL 0x7FFD85350000 wldp.dll 0x7FFD85460000 NTASN1.dll 0x7FFD85510000 ncrypt.dll 0x7FFD85550000 msasn1.dll 0x7FFD85860000 devobj.dll 0x7FFD85880000 CFGMGR32.dll 0x7FFD858B0000 DPAPI.DLL 0x7FFD85920000 profapi.dll 0x7FFD85B00000 msvcp\_win.dll 0x7FFD85BD0000 wintrust.dll 0x7FFD85C70000 gdi32full.dll 0x7FFD85CE0000 ucrtbase.dll 0x7FFD85E00000 win32u.dll 0x7FFD85F20000 CRYPT32.dll 0x7FFD85F50000 bcryptPrimitives.dll 0x7FFD86180000 KERNELBASE.dll 0x7FFD86200000 bcrypt.dll 0x7FFD865B0000 IMM32.DLL 0x7FFD865E0000 msvcrt.dll 0x7FFD86690000 shcore.dll 0x7FFD86740000 KERNEL32.DLL 0x7FFD86840000 SHELL32.dll 0x7FFD86910000 USER32.dll 0x7FFD87200000 SHLWAPI.dll 0x7FFD87430000 NSI.dll 0x7FFD87550000 OLEAUT32.dll 0x7FFD87560000 RPCRT4.dll 0x7FFD87640000 combase.dll 0x7FFD87780000 COMDLG32.dll 0x7FFD87B10000 sechost.dll 0x7FFD87C10000 MSCTF.dll 0x7FFD87CC0000 imagehlp.dll 0x7FFD87E20000 ole32.dll 0x7FFD88010000 SETUPAPI.dll 0x7FFD881C0000 GDI32.dll 0x7FFD88640000 ADVAPI32.dll 0x7FFD88670000 clbcatq.dll 0x7FFD88740000 WS2\_32.dll 0x7FFD887F0000 ntdll.dll 0x7FFD888B0000 

F4SE PLUGINS:

ArmorPenetrationBugFix.dll v1 BackportedBA2Support.dll v1 BakaMaxPapyrusOps.dll v1.1 BetterConsole.dll BlockingOverhaul.dll v1 Buffout4.dll v1.28.6 BulletCountedReload.dll CCExtenderF4.dll v1.2 ClassicHolsteredWeapons.dll crafting\_highlight\_fix.dll encounter\_zone\_recalculation.dll EnergyWeaponCalcFix.dll v1 GardenOfEdenPapyrusExtender.dll v18 GCBugFix.dll v1 HighFPSPhysicsFix.dll Interior-NavCut-Fix.dll v1.0.3 LighthousePapyrusExtender.dll v1.4 mcm.dll Outfit-ReDress-Fix.dll v1 po3\_SimpleOffenceSuppressionF4.dll v1 pppl.dll PrivateProfileRedirector.dll PRKF.dll ReloadFix.dll v1.2.4 RememberPickAngleUpdated.dll RobCo\_Patcher.dll v3.6 SprintSpeedController.dll v1 SprintStutteringFix.dll ToYourFaceFO4.dll UnlimitedSurvivalMode.dll WeaponDebrisCrashFix.dll XDI.dll 

PLUGINS:

\[ 0\] Fallout4.esm \[ 1\] DLCRobot.esm \[ 2\] DLCworkshop01.esm \[ 3\] DLCCoast.esm \[ 4\] DLCworkshop02.esm \[ 5\] DLCworkshop03.esm \[ 6\] DLCNukaWorld.esm \[ 7\] Unofficial Fallout 4 Patch.esp \[ 8\] XDI.esm \[ 9\] YouAndWhatArmy2.esm \[ A\] WeaponModFixes-GOTY.esp \[ B\] RAW INPUT.esp \[ C\] Less Annoying Berry Mentats.esp \[ D\] Complex Vendors.esp \[ E\] DLC Timing.esp \[ F\] BlockingOverhaul.esp \[10\] AttachPack.esp \[11\] ScopeOverlayDOF.esp \[12\] RemoveBlur.esp \[13\] Vivid Waters.esp \[14\] Vivid Weathers - FO4.esp \[15\] Vivid Weathers - FO4 - Far Harbor.esp \[16\] Vivid Weathers - Natural Bright.esp \[17\] Vivid Weathers - Nuka World.esp \[18\] You Are Exceptional.esp \[19\] SelectMarksman.esp \[1A\] WattzLaserGun.esp \[1B\] Tomacuzi9.esp \[1C\] Zapgun.esp \[1D\] SelectShotgun.esp \[1E\] SurvivalOptions.esp \[1F\] AVBPipeGunsReplace.esp \[FE: 0\] ccBGSFO4044-HellfirePowerArmor.esl \[FE: 1\] ccBGSFO4115-X02.esl \[FE: 2\] ccBGSFO4116-HeavyFlamer.esl \[FE: 3\] ccBGSFO4110-WS\_Enclave.esl \[FE: 4\] ccBGSFO4096-AS\_Enclave.esl \[FE: 5\] ccFSVFO4007-Halloween.esl \[FE: 6\] ccBGSFO4046-TesCan.esl \[FE: 7\] ccSBJFO4003-Grenade.esl \[FE: 8\] ccOTMFO4001-Remnants.esl \[FE: 9\] REFramework.esm \[FE: A\] Ownership Fixes.esp \[FE: B\] Community Fixes Merged.esp \[FE: C\] TMR\_GlitchfinderAIO.esm \[FE: D\] GrenadeCombatFixes.esl \[FE: E\] JumpFallPoseFix.esl \[FE: F\] NPCRespawnFix.esl \[FE: 10\] OutlineWorkshopShader.esl \[FE: 11\] SelectRevolver.esl \[FE: 12\] FOLON\_Lewis.esl \[FE: 13\] PPF.esm \[FE: 14\] MiscAnimTweaks.esp \[FE: 15\] Wetness Shader Fix.esp \[FE: 16\] Fixed Gobo Effects.esp \[FE: 17\] Flutter Flicker Fixer For Foliage.esp \[FE: 18\] PRP.esp \[FE: 19\] PuddleReflectionFix.esp \[FE: 1A\] Chemfluence AI Combat Dynamics.esp \[FE: 1B\] SimplePowerArmorReductionSystem.esp \[FE: 1C\] Keep Radiants In Commonwealth.esp \[FE: 1D\] WhoIsTheGeneral.esp \[FE: 1E\] LegendariesTheyCanUse.esp \[FE: 1F\] No Sneaking in Power Armor.esp \[FE: 20\] Backpacks of the Commonwealth - UFO4P Patch.esp \[FE: 21\] Attach Pack Mod Description Fixes.esp \[FE: 22\] Legendary Mutation Messages Fix.esp \[FE: 23\] Lightweight Lighting.esp \[FE: 24\] Gloomy Glass.esp \[FE: 25\] FO4ParticlePatch.esp \[FE: 26\] WET.esp \[FE: 27\] WAVE.esp \[FE: 28\] Targeted Textures.esp \[FE: 29\] DiamondCityBillboards.esp \[FE: 2A\] Diamond City Supplements.esp \[FE: 2B\] GoodneighborView.esp \[FE: 2C\] TerrainUndersides.esp \[FE: 2D\] VividFallout - AiO - BestChoice.esp \[FE: 2E\] UltimateLockpick.esp 

Thanks so much!

First Prev
Star Crossed [Multiple Free Sample Chapters] Patreon Subreddit Discord Paperback NOP2 Species Lore
Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: July 13, 2160
The irritability coursing through my psyche was palpable. Every sound was dialed up to eleven, stabbing at the core of my sensory processing. Constant awareness grated on me after days without sleep, never having any break from the stream of information I needed to digest. There was no way to shut the world off and reset, and no reprieve from the unsettling reality of my physical experience. I was curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth; I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on like this.
Virnt scuttled over to me in the spaceship, jostling my shoulder. “Elias? Would you like to turn back from this mission?”
I remembered how I’d spent most of the trip, standing under the water in the shower. There was a special shampoo they’d provided for synthetic hair, like a wig. I held out my phony hand and emptied most of the bottle’s worth of goop, zoning out; I was trying to soak in the distant sensation of liquid running down my spine. Once upon a time, this had been the most relaxing time of my day—letting muscle tension fade away and cleansing grimy skin oils. Now, I knew neither of those two still existed in my day-to-day life to assuage.
Did it even matter to slap soap on some metal frame? There were no consequences of letting hygiene go by the wayside. I didn’t sweat in order to start to reek, and I couldn’t get skin conditions or be affected by bacteria. It could be that I was bathing out of habit, clinging to my old lifestyle, that I kept going to wash up. Perhaps the shower had become my favorite haunt because I felt disgusting in this body. Everything was a reminder that I was an inhuman scrap pile, and it was wearing on my sanity. It wasn’t like anyone related to what I was going through.
I used to spend so much time fussing over making my suits look crisp and perfect—immaculate ties, UN pins adjusted just right. The heavy jackets would trap my body heat in the summer; now, it no longer had that effect. I could bundle up as much as I wanted in 40 degree Celsius heat, unless there was some limit that would fry my circuits. Shit, I might not need a spacesuit in the vacuum of space—I couldn’t freeze or suffocate, after all. Being left out in the void for all eternity didn’t sound that much different from my present experience.
I hate what I’ve become. I hate what they’ve done to me; all I do is think, and every part of my new self lives in the uncanny valley. There’s nothing positive. Maybe it’s time to call it…death was better than this. I can’t bear another day of this hell.
“Hey, stay with me! Distractibility, depression, being unable to maintain concentration—these are natural consequences of sleep deprivation. I’m surprised it carries over without a physical mechanism to grow tired…but I’m working on a sleep suite, I promise,” Virnt said, glossy eyes staring at me.
I groaned. “I’m not tired, but it’s just nonstop. I…I’m having trouble remembering what I read.”
“Here, I’m going to try a temporary fix. You look like you need it. I don’t want you to suffer; just turning you off and on isn’t the same. I’m going to emulate GABA, uh, shut off your optic sensors, decrease the activity in your prefrontal cortex, and simulate delta waves for an hour. We can see if it somewhat fills the need for deep sleep, okay? Relaxation, no processing: worth a shot, right?”
I nodded mutely, staying in the fetal position. I didn’t have the will to move, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up that Virnt’s plan would be any mercy. The sensation of the Tilfish tinkering with my settings was strange, as if my brain was being overridden in the moment. There was no process of falling asleep to give it the air of naturalness. Suddenly, I was blind, trapped in darkness—and a modicum of drowsiness kicked in, limiting my movement. Thoughts died down, offering much-need relief; I faintly wished I could remain in this state.
When I came to, there was a sudden influx of information as the rest mode was switched off; it was hardly a seamless waking, but I’d take it. Peace in my own head was something I’d never take for granted again. I hadn’t thought myself to be a weak-minded individual, but I hadn’t realized how much it wore on you: feeling out of place in your own body every waking second, and not trusting your senses. Brain function had been restored enough that I could get a grip on myself, and rise in my disheveled state. A peek out the window revealed we’d completed our intra-atmosphere transit to the Duerten embassy.
I rubbed my eyes on reflex, but there were no gifts from the Sandman there. “Why couldn’t you have just added everything to start with, Virnt?”
“The humans I talked to said they wouldn’t want to sleep, unless they had to! I put the most focus on your emotional matrix and your facial expressiveness, since I thought that has the highest importance of what makes you human,” the Tilfish replied.
“You could’ve made it at least optional.”
“I sent the option to your holopad for the future, to trigger this program for as long as you’d like. This is a learning process, so I’m sorry for anything that’s off. All trial and error here, but it’s only going to get better! That’s the positive.”
“There are a lot of patches needed. For starters, you’re missing two of the senses: taste and smell. In spite of that, ever since I walked past the Terra Technologies staff eating tater tots, I’ve been craving them at random intervals. I’m not hungry—I can’t consume food!”
“Predator instincts,” Virnt teased. “The Federation was right.”
“I’m serious! Why on Earth would that be a thing? I literally can’t satisfy it, so it’s almost cruel.”
“It’s psychological, Elias. I looked into it after I saw it in your transcript. When humans are under a lot of stress or otherwise feeling down, you seek dopamine from food. It’s something familiar that activated your memories, and promised emotional comfort. That’s why you have the phrase ‘comfort food.’”
“I can already see how the Federation remnants would spin that. A predator’s so-called emotions are tied to food, and stimulate appetite to fulfill their whims.”
“You seem in better spirits. To add to your improved mood, we announced the success of your memory transplant to the world. The response was overwhelmingly positive—history looked back fondly on you. You got a lot of well-wishes, and I was able to get almost all of your social media re-activated. At least, the platforms that are still active.”
“I’m…allowed to share my honest experiences?”
Virnt eased me out of the shuttle, into the sunlight; cameras were waiting, causing me to stiffen. “Of course you can. I’m not here to muzzle you, my friend. Quite the opposite, in fact: I want your experiment documented as thoroughly as possible! You’re the spokesperson for—”
I shielded my face from the reporters, who were lobbing questions. “What is this? I don’t have a prepared statement. This is an ambush.”
“Terra Technologies has a mission of transparency, and improving sapients’ quality of life through digital means. We had to announce such a monumental breakthrough, but you’re under no obligation to speak with them.”
“Good,” a warm voice chimed in from next to me, making me jump. “The poor guy’s come back from the dead, Virnt. Give him a break. He’s here to speak with the Duerten Forum and their ambassador, for some semblance of his old life.”
I turned my head, beaming as I recognized her. “Erin? Oh, sorry: that’s Secretary-General Kuemper, isn’t it? You’ve moved up in the world. The United Nations is in good hands.”
“It’s good to see you, Elias. I bawled my eyes out at your funeral. You cared so much for peace and taking the high road; there isn’t a person out there who could’ve handled first contact with more grace. You inspired me, and an entire generation of future diplomats.”
I embraced Erin, who’d once been a passionate SETI researcher giving me all of the bad news about aliens. As we flailed about in the dark to save humanity and adjust to the galaxy, finally acquiring a few friends, she’d become my Secretary of Alien Affairs. I’d trusted her to do whatever it took to stabilize our extraterrestrial relations. It was a bit of a relief to see a positive reaction from someone I knew; I wasn’t sure how my friends would take my return, but I hadn’t been expecting a welcome with open arms. It brought me solace and comfort to know about the legacy I’d left behind, and the ripple effects my tenure had on the United Nations.
It is strange to see how much she’s aged. That’ll be the reality of anyone that used to be an acquaintance of mine.
The alarm bells pinging in my head faded into the backdrop, and I forgot that the wind gusting against my face only felt like a dull push. My mind slipped away from food cravings that failed to get my mouth to water, how there was no feeling of tightness from my dress shoes, and the stillness of my non-existent diaphragm. I was simply happy to see someone I cared about and enjoyed working with, in my old life. There was safety in having a person I trusted to be on my side. My brain snapped back into diplomat mode, falling into a familiar flow of conversation. If I had nothing else, I still had my social skills—an ability to navigate various cultures.
“So the Duerten Forum agreed to meet with the two of us. They know about the Sivkit attack, but not the full threat,” I spoke aloud, after breaking away from the rather soul-affirming embrace. “I read the strategy meetings for briefing them, and I’m on-board to appeal to nostalgia; humanity saving their homeworld was after my time, but close enough to it that I could serve as a reminder. A blast from the past.”
Erin nodded, her security forming a wall between us and the cameras as we walked toward the embassy. “I always wondered what you’d think of modern Vienna, Elias. All of the aliens willing to be here on our world, and to treat us like people. Friendship used to seem like a pipe dream; we were happy if they’d allow us to exist, tolerate us to that extent. Look at us now.”
“I almost gave up hoping that they could care about us, or stand beside us at all. We couldn’t do it alone then. It’s time we remember to stand together—to rise to the occasion once more. I can’t bear the thought of anything threatening our home, or our friends. I saw enough needless death twenty-four years ago.”
“That pain is a lot more recent to you. It’s completely okay to be wrestling with grief. A billion of ours died.”
“We didn’t become the monsters they thought we were, and we pulled through. We revealed their hatred and treachery, and have chosen a future set on rectifying every right they trampled. I’ll always mourn what we lost, but I’ve never been more proud of humanity in my life.”
Kuemper patted my shoulder. “You sound like yourself, my dear old friend. It’s very good to have you back; you were much better at smiling while they spit in your face than I ever was. Let’s do what’s necessary to get the ball rolling with the Shield.”
“I’m right behind you.”
The exterior of the Duerten embassy had a distinct construction style, with metal and concrete forming the bulk of the outside structure; on Kalqua, sturdiness was at the foremost of their priorities. Winds on a normal day could ratchet up to what we’d consider a tropical storm, according to my brief review of their culture. The door was evidently heightened to facilitate foot traffic from humans, despite the exit hatches on the upper floor which seemed frequented by the avian staff. Their personnel could literally fly away during an emergent situation. I tailed Kuemper into the lobby, and noted how much of the inside’s floor was concrete as well. It was resilient and easy to clean, a perfect surface to avoid being marred by talons.
Most of the gray avians used perches instead of chairs, with several staffers working on paperwork at their desks; in private areas, some met with any humans who had business with the Duerten Forum. The lack of reaction to a predator’s approach was new to me, but a welcome change. Kuemper confidently led the way to an elevator, which had the English and German words for “Welcome to the Duerten embassy!” written above the opening. The generic Shield logo was painted on both sides of the door, and emblazoned with a representation of Kalqua. There were no buttons inside, apart from an emergency exit; a camera surveyed us, before a watching staffer summoned the car upward. I felt a jolt as we reached the top floor.
“To be visited by two Secretary-Generals: one of whom is a ghost! Let me express the Duerten Forum’s honor and delight. Not, of course, that I don’t cherish Ambassador Hannah Marston’s visits.” A silver-feathered head poked out of a door at the end of the hallway, past a spacious lounge; his beak was the precise yellow of corn. “Please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Kuemper shuffled forward, giving me a knowing look. “Water would be lovely for me. Thank you for the warm welcome, Ambassador Korajan.”
“I second that gratitude. Enchanted to meet you. I’m sure you know, but I’m Elias Meier.” Taking a gamble that the ambassador was more than acquainted with our customs, I extended a hand. Korajan strode forward with confidence, ensnaring my palm in his wingtip. “We appreciate you taking the time to sit with us, Ambassador.”
“Just Korajan,” the avian said, feeling my artificial hand with undeniable curiosity. He finally released my grip, and waited for us to get seated. “There’s no need for formalities, especially when I’m in such esteemed company. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve come to seek your assistance in the fight against the Sivkits’ assailants. The Sapient Coalition needs allies to back us against these menaces,” Kuemper stated. “Any help we can get would make a difference.”
“I see. I heard about your unfortunate defeat in your prior engagement, but I don’t see how it involves or concerns us. The Duerten, as you well know, aren’t in the position we used to be. We’ve turned our focus inward for years, shoring up our defenses to watch out for our beloved planet. The potential benefit it might offer you is so negligible that it’s hardly worth increasing our vulnerability. The risk far outweighs the rewards for any party.”
I studied the avian, careful to avoid a direct stare. “I understand that it’s a lot to ask. However, small bits of help from across the Shield can accumulate to be a massive difference maker. We want to stop this genocidal force from getting anywhere near Kalqua; if we play our cards right, you won’t need defenses.”
“Elias—sorry, may I call you Elias?” Korajan asked, continuing after I nodded. “We’re, of course, concerned to have a predatory species with such power and intentions, outside our known terrain. They bear a striking resemblance to the Arxur, and my government does appreciate the advance warning from the SC so we can make preparations. Yet the Forum is concerned by several of your recent initiatives, which would make us doubly unwilling to back your cause.”
“Go on. What initiatives have unsettled you?” I hope he doesn’t mean me, with resurrecting dead humans; that’d hit close to home, and I don’t know how to defend it. “Perhaps we can clear up our rationale and intentions, ensuring that there are no misunderstandings.”
“I hope I’m not impolite to point it out, but my government is beginning to see a pattern in your recent connections to carnivores. The Sapient Coalition is attempting an uplift on one race, despite what we all know happened on Wriss, and has brought them into your mix while they are at war with each other. We’re also aware of these Osirs—a race you are resurrecting to live among you, despite having no idea what they’re capable of. Present company excluded, species that need meat are not trustworthy types. These Osirs are weapons: look at the fangs.”
“Anything is a weapon in the wrong hands. Respectfully, we don’t feel that it’s right to judge a species for their diet. If I’m not mistaken, your own kind were once omnivores, Korajan.”
The Duerten fluttered his wings in acknowledgement. “The Federation changed us greatly—some things for the better, others to erase our intellect. We’re an individualist species, and they tried to make us…what do you humans call it? A ‘hive mind.’ Hive minds, of course, are fiction, yet they tried to make it real. Still, sometimes when you’re changed enough, it makes it impossible to go back to how things were.”
“I of all people grasp that sentiment,” I sighed, without moving an abdominal muscle, reflecting how my life would never be the same in this state. “We believe all sapients deserve a chance at life and happiness. Equality isn’t a principle we withhold based on any factor, and we don’t change species to fit our own whims.”
“This is why we’re content with our relations as is: separate, so we’re not connected to your disputes or obligated to get involved. The Duerten will always have differences between what are considered acceptable behaviors, and our guiding principles and overarching goals.”
Kuemper tapped her fingers on her knee. “Regardless, our choices with the Bissems and Osirs will have no impact or tangible effects on the Duerten. Nor is it a reason to shy away from protecting herbivores, the mandate that led you to stand up to the Federation in the past.”
“That cost us everything. Kalqua took a beating worse than Earth did. We don’t set out to attract the ire of powerful enemies these days.”
“We saved Kalqua. We were there when you needed our help to keep your innocents safe,” I reminded him, knitting my eyebrows with earnestness. “We answer when others call for our help to stay alive; the Duerten know what drives us to answer the bell. Isn’t that worth a smidge of reciprocation?”
“If Earth, or for that matter, Leirn were under siege, we would come. However, it appears to us that you entered their territory, not the other way around.”
“Think of the type of species…no, the kind of governments that would glass worlds. The old-school Arxur Dominion. The Kolshian shadow caste when they were defied. The Krakotl extermination fleet because they hated us. That’s what we see in the Osirs, and the gluttonous killing of Sivkit civilians while refusing to speak. We can’t turn a blind eye.”
“I’m sorry, Elias. Even if I wanted to help you, I don’t have the authority. I’m expressing my government’s position, and I’ve been told the Duerten Forum isn't going to war under any circumstances. I apologize that I can’t be of more use, and regret if you might feel your time has been squandered, leaving empty-handed.”
I shared a look with Kuemper, recognizing that we had been stonewalled; there was an implication in Korajan’s last statement that the discussion on this matter was over. The Forum hadn’t given him any negotiating room, so I didn’t get the sense I could do better than asking for him to take a message. If this was the most friendly party we’d be interacting with, I wasn’t off to a good start wrangling support for an alliance. There were a few other Shield races we could try, but an endorsement from the founders might’ve gotten the whole union on board. We had to find another angle—negotiating with the Fed remnants would be impossible without the Shield as an intermediary.
“Of course we don’t feel that way. The back-and-forth was enlightening, productive communication, as much as humanity would love to stand side-by-side in this endeavor,” I offered. “We appreciate you hearing us out, and do hope you’ll pass along our rationale to the Forum, for clarity.”
“I will,” the Duerten responded. “Your words, as always, deserve to be heard and treated with respect.”
Kuemper followed my lead, rising as I stood. “Korajan, I want you to know I deeply appreciate what you said about coming to Earth’s aid should we ever fall on hard times. That stood out to me, as a reason why our cooperation is so precious and beautiful.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. I do wish you the best of luck in your future engagements; my people hope you emerge victorious.”
“Thank you. Our door will always be open if you have a change of heart.”
In my mind, I had already vacated the Duerten embassy, but it was necessary to retrace my steps to depart the ambassador’s office. Aliens were much more diplomatic in rebuffing us now than in my era, which was the proper way to express disagreements between nations. It wasn’t lost on me that the differences in “behaviors” and “principles” Korajan meant were things such as hunting, omnivory, accepting carnivores, exterminators, and predator disease facilities. The Forum still clung to much of their old lifestyle; the gray avian had stated that some Federation changes were “for the better.” That was telling about how much of their ideology they’d yet to shed.
“Forgive my impertinence, but before you go, Elias…may I ask a personal inquiry? It’s not on my behalf of my government,” Korajan called, as our shoes cleared the threshold of his office.
I turned around, giving him an encouraging smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”
“What…what was it like? To die…to be dead?”
“It wasn’t like anything. It was a singularity of all outcomes: all I ever was, and all I ever could be, condensed to nothing. There are no words to describe emptiness and infinite rest. It’s a peace that knows no equal.”
The Duerten dipped his head. “Thank you. It gives me some…personal solace, to know…to know my daughter is resting peacefully. She died in so much pain after only a short period of remission. Ahem…if you’ll excuse me, I…”
“We’ll leave you in peace,” Kuemper replied, softness in her voice.
I folded my hands behind my back, mulling over the choked-up ambassador’s words. How could I let a few days of mental suffering defeat me, when kids suffered through such terrible diseases—never getting to reach adulthood? This program could give children like Korajan’s daughter a chance to grow up, and be a kid, free from pain. As soon as I was alone, I knew I’d be cast back into a maddening state of consciousness, with my brain struggling to stay tethered to this reality. Where I’d been ready to give up before Virnt’s quick fix, the avian’s story made me want to remain in the fight.
The Tilfish had been right: there was the potential for the technology that had brought me back to do a lot of good, and save others a great deal of heartbreak and suffering. No personal sacrifice was too great to ensure that one day, no parent would ever have to bury their child.
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I'm a newish time car owner. I left my car to charge overnight at a public station. During the night, someone entered my car and when through my car's papers in my glovebox (lease papers, warranty form dealer, insurance [stolen]).
What are suggestions to do after this? I am leaning towards calling my insurance and my car dealer to inform them.
What are some things that I can do to prevent this in the future?
Edit: I need to rephrase. I have owned cars before. Its the 1st time I'm solely responsible for a car. I am in habit of locking the car, I'm sure I did last night. They didn't break any windows and no apparent damage to the doohatch is seen.

Hi! … I’m a MOD at Jung and I’ve been sharing my articles there for a few years now. I thought this sub could be a good fit for some of them. I read the rules and it seems to me that it’s ok for me to share, if it isn’t, I apologize in advance. Please let me know what I’d need to change.
The Secret Reasons You Procrastinate and How To Overcome Them
The first thing you have to understand is that procrastination isn’t about laziness and rarely about the task we’ve been avoiding.
Simply put, procrastination happens because of the meaning we attach to certain tasks, and because of this hidden meaning, procrastination becomes a strategy to avoid facing something deeper.
For instance, since I launched my book and I have more people paying attention to me, I started procrastinating on posting about certain topics and telling my stories.
Why? … Because I’m afraid of being judged and not being good enough. This evokes my desire to be perfect, which leads to being identified with my productions and being attached to the outcome.
When I was overweight, I’d constantly procrastinate on buying new clothes.
Why? … Because I’d have to look myself in the mirror. I knew my clothes were getting tighter and I didn’t want to buy a bigger number of pants. I was avoiding facing I wasn’t taking good care of myself.
Recently, I lost my credit card and to get a new one was very simple. All I had to do was make a phone call, but I avoided it for weeks.
Why? … Because the call had to be done in Spanish, and I don’t feel very confident speaking Spanish yet.
This makes me feel insecure, because I feel like my Spanish should be way better now that I’m living in Argentina. Of course, this is all in my head, the truth is that I can already hold conversions in Spanish, but I’m judging myself too harshly.
Do you see? … Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper.
It’s about the meaning and heaviness we attach to certain tasks and while this is unconscious, they feel much bigger than they actually are. In fact, even using the word “procrastination” detracts us from the real experience as it’s a way to avoid uncovering the real truth.
People believe that just because they know a word they know everything there is to know about something. The truth is that using terms provides an illusory sense of control because now “we know what the thing is”.
However, we have to look for the secret reason behind procrastination, just like the examples I gave you. I wasn’t “procrastinating”, I didn’t want to feel rejected or judged.
When we unwrap the real reason, it becomes conscious and we can finally do something about it. It’s no longer this invisible master of puppets making us feel ashamed and guilty for constantly postponing certain tasks.
The Root Cause of Procrastination
During my practice as a therapist, I understood that procrastination is a very common symptom in people under the influence of a mother or father complex, and this took things to a whole new level.
In very simple terms, these are people who don’t want to grow up and take any responsibility for their lives. Some people know that as the Peter Pan syndrome, but nowadays people call it the man-child or the woman-child. in Jungian Psychology, we call it the Puer and Puella Aeternus.
When I realized that, I understood that the problem of procrastination is something much deeper, it’s not about postponing daily tasks, It’s about postponing growing up and fully living life. New studies are showing that adolescence is extending to 30 years old and people are doing everything they can to remain childish.
Why? … Because this is the easy way out, while you’re childish you don’t have to take responsibility for anything and you can always blame your parents, your family, and society.
All of this passivity and lack of responsibility leads to people feeling lost and having no sense of purpose and direction. This obviously leads to massive amounts of anxiety and depression. Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper and that’s why simply giving you a list of habits won’t solve it, we have to address the root cause first.
We have to talk about our attitude towards life and what lies underneath procrastination:
For some it’s the fear of becoming independent, truly growing up, and making their own decisions.
Others feel like they’re not good enough to do what they truly desire.
Others procrastinate to avoid disappointing their families or partners.
Others procrastinate because they don’t have the right motivation,
they’re just trying to please someone else. On a deeper, level, they’re living their entire lives with someone else’s map.
Others procrastinate because they lack self-esteem and don’t feel like they deserve to accomplish anything.
Others procrastinate because they’re afraid they’ll be rejected if they put themselves out there.
While others procrastinate because they’re afraid of failure.
The First Thing
If you’re under the influence of a mother and father complex, the first thing you have to realize is that there’s a part of you that wants to remain a child and sabotages all your attempts to become independent and accomplish your goals. This part is also very clever, as it’s a master in creating the perfect excuses to avoid doing all the tasks you have to do.
Now, I know that many people were dealt a bad hand, I had to deal with CPTSD and severe derealization. However, the first thing that ought to be done is to emotionally and psychologically separate yourself from your parents. Until you do so, you’ll never be your own person and you’ll be forever doomed to repeat their stories.
Simply put, psychologically speaking, being under the influence of the parents entails that you unconsciously adopt their worldview, beliefs, fears, and all of their patterns around work, money, relationships, and life in general.
I won’t go into full detail here because I already wrote extensively about it in my Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus Series, I’ll focus on expanding these ideas and how they apply specifically to procrastination.
What I’d like to add is that you won’t be able to carve your own path if you don’t take the responsibility upon you to craft your own values and create your unique sense of meaning.
These answers won’t come from anyone else but you, and if you don’t actively engage in this process, you’ll operate with goals and a belief system that have nothing to do with your personality and authentic desires. You’ll be trying to please others and fulfill their expectations instead of following your soul. That’s what most people choose to do and that’s also why they lead meaningless lives.
Just a quick note here, when I say that people have to emotionally separate from their parents some people tend to assume this is a bad thing. But this is not about cutting ties with your family and shutting them off, this is about becoming your own person, it’s about developing your own personality, beliefs, and values.
It’s about becoming independent and letting go of the need for their approval. It’s about individuation, which means carving your own path. In some cases, this will require keeping a certain distance from the family while for others this might not be necessary, you have to discern what’s your scenario and not use your family as an excuse.
Comfort – A Poisonous Drug
Being under the influence of the parental complex means that you either live a life trying to fulfill their expectations or trying to prove them wrong, in this second case, you do everything they wouldn’t approve. Either way, it’s not a conscious decision because everything is done in reaction to the parents, it’s not an expression of your individuality.
Taking things into a procrastination context, the quickest way to realize if you’re under the influence of a negative mother complex is if you’re constantly seeking COMFORT.
In other words, you’re procrastinating because you HAVE the perfect
conditions.
I know, a bit of a mind fuck…
The problem is that you got used to your current level of comfort and this keeps you stuck. Comfort is one of the most powerful drugs that exists. I love it when I can just brew myself a great cup of coffee and simply stare into the void. I just want to do nothing and pretend that I don’t have any adult responsibilities for a while, lol.
The problem is that people usually fall in love with this “pretending” and it quickly becomes an escapism. Whenever there’s a situation demanding growth, instead of facing it head-on, they choose the easy way out.
When you do that, you also open the door to a mediocre life. This mediocre spirit whispers in your ear, “It’s ok to eat that extra cookie”. “It’s ok to spend all of your time doom scrolling or watching adult videos”.
Quickly, it converts into a master of puppets keeping you hostage of your own “comfort”. The mindset “If I just had the perfect conditions I could start”, perfectly encapsulates it. There’s always one more book you have to read, there’s always one more thing you have to buy, the list never ends!
The first thing you have to realize is that comfort is subjective. You might not think that your current life is objectively comfortable, yet, you got used to it. Worse, you keep lying to yourself saying that everything is ok.
Avoiding making a decision doesn’t make things magically disappear, it just makes the imaginary monster bigger.
Until you admit to yourself that things must change, I’m sorry to tell you, but you’ll just keep wasting your life. This “comfort” is poisonous and will corrode your health, relationships, and all your potential to live a great life.
Now, looking on the bright side.
Once you understand that you’ve been lying to yourself, you also realize that you had the perfect conditions to start all along. Let’s be serious, if you’re reading this right now, I’m sure you have all you need to start whatever you want to do.
Instead of choosing comfort every time, you have to learn how to intelligently apply friction to yourself and we’re gonna explore that in future articles.
I’d like to end with this quoting Kant – “You’re only free when you choose to do what you don’t want to do”.
Many people have this childish idea that if they form a lot of habits they’ll stop having fun and life will become boring, but it’s exactly the other way around. If you don’t develop discipline, your destructive desires will continue to ruin your life.
It’s not fun having bad financial habits and never knowing if you’ll have enough money. It’s not fun not being able to control what we eat, constantly put on weight and feel disgusting when we look in the mirror.
It’s not fun not being able to accomplish our tasks and feel guilty, ashamed, and like a failure. Not only that, when you don’t have good habits you waste a lot of time in meaningless tasks, such as thinking about what you’re gonna eat or wear.
However, when we form good habits everything becomes automatic and we don’t have to think about it anymore, it becomes effortless and this frees a lot of mental energy. We stop being worried about meaningless stuff and we can apply this energy to deep thinking and creativity.
Having good habits and deciding exactly how we’ll spend our time, resources, and energy is extremely powerful and brings immense freedom. It’s time to stop being a slave of your illusory comfort. You’re not lost, you’re afraid of responsibility and carving your own path.
Lastly, here’s a deep dive into the mother and father complex – Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus
Rafael Krüger – Jungian Therapist

The first thing you have to understand is that procrastination isn’t about laziness and rarely about the task we’ve been avoiding.
Simply put, procrastination happens because of the meaning we attach to certain tasks, and because of this hidden meaning, procrastination becomes a strategy to avoid facing something deeper.
For instance, since I launched my book and I have more people paying attention to me, I started procrastinating on posting about certain topics and telling my stories.
Why? … Because I’m afraid of being judged and not being good enough. This evokes my desire to be perfect, which leads to being identified with my productions and being attached to the outcome.
When I was overweight, I’d constantly procrastinate on buying new clothes.
Why? … Because I’d have to look myself in the mirror. I knew my clothes were getting tighter and I didn’t want to buy a bigger number of pants. I was avoiding facing I wasn’t taking good care of myself.
Recently, I lost my credit card and to get a new one was very simple. All I had to do was make a phone call, but I avoided it for weeks.
Why? … Because the call had to be done in Spanish, and I don’t feel very confident speaking Spanish yet.
This makes me feel insecure, because I feel like my Spanish should be way better now that I’m living in Argentina. Of course, this is all in my head, the truth is that I can already hold conversions in Spanish, but I’m judging myself too harshly.
Do you see? … Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper.
It’s about the meaning and heaviness we attach to certain tasks and while this is unconscious, they feel much bigger than they actually are. In fact, even using the word “procrastination” detracts us from the real experience as it’s a way to avoid uncovering the real truth.
People believe that just because they know a word they know everything there is to know about something. The truth is that using terms provides an illusory sense of control because now “we know what the thing is”.
However, we have to look for the secret reason behind procrastination, just like the examples I gave you. I wasn’t “procrastinating”, I didn’t want to feel rejected or judged.
When we unwrap the real reason, it becomes conscious and we can finally do something about it. It’s no longer this invisible master of puppets making us feel ashamed and guilty for constantly postponing certain tasks.
The Root Cause of Procrastination
During my practice as a therapist, I understood that procrastination is a very common symptom in people under the influence of a mother or father complex, and this took things to a whole new level.
In very simple terms, these are people who don’t want to grow up and take any responsibility for their lives. Some people know that as the Peter Pan syndrome, but nowadays people call it the man-child or the woman-child. in Jungian Psychology, we call it the Puer and Puella Aeternus.
When I realized that, I understood that the problem of procrastination is something much deeper, it’s not about postponing daily tasks, It’s about postponing growing up and fully living life. New studies are showing that adolescence is extending to 30 years old and people are doing everything they can to remain childish.
Why? … Because this is the easy way out, while you’re childish you don’t have to take responsibility for anything and you can always blame your parents, your family, and society.
All of this passivity and lack of responsibility leads to people feeling lost and having no sense of purpose and direction. This obviously leads to massive amounts of anxiety and depression. Procrastination is just a symptom of something deeper and that’s why simply giving you a list of habits won’t solve it, we have to address the root cause first.
We have to talk about our attitude towards life and what lies underneath procrastination:
For some it’s the fear of becoming independent, truly growing up, and making their own decisions.
Others feel like they’re not good enough to do what they truly desire.
Others procrastinate to avoid disappointing their families or partners.
Others procrastinate because they don’t have the right motivation,
they’re just trying to please someone else. On a deeper, level, they’re living their entire lives with someone else’s map.
Others procrastinate because they lack self-esteem and don’t feel like they deserve to accomplish anything.
Others procrastinate because they’re afraid they’ll be rejected if they put themselves out there.
While others procrastinate because they’re afraid of failure.
The First Thing
If you’re under the influence of a mother and father complex, the first thing you have to realize is that there’s a part of you that wants to remain a child and sabotages all your attempts to become independent and accomplish your goals. This part is also very clever, as it’s a master in creating the perfect excuses to avoid doing all the tasks you have to do.
Now, I know that many people were dealt a bad hand, I had to deal with CPTSD and severe derealization. However, the first thing that ought to be done is to emotionally and psychologically separate yourself from your parents. Until you do so, you’ll never be your own person and you’ll be forever doomed to repeat their stories.
Simply put, psychologically speaking, being under the influence of the parents entails that you unconsciously adopt their worldview, beliefs, fears, and all of their patterns around work, money, relationships, and life in general.
I won’t go into full detail here because I already wrote extensively about it in my Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus Series, I’ll focus on expanding these ideas and how they apply specifically to procrastination.
What I’d like to add is that you won’t be able to carve your own path if you don’t take the responsibility upon you to craft your own values and create your unique sense of meaning.
These answers won’t come from anyone else but you, and if you don’t actively engage in this process, you’ll operate with goals and a belief system that have nothing to do with your personality and authentic desires. You’ll be trying to please others and fulfill their expectations instead of following your soul. That’s what most people choose to do and that’s also why they lead meaningless lives.
Just a quick note here, when I say that people have to emotionally separate from their parents some people tend to assume this is a bad thing. But this is not about cutting ties with your family and shutting them off, this is about becoming your own person, it’s about developing your own personality, beliefs, and values.
It’s about becoming independent and letting go of the need for their approval. It’s about individuation, which means carving your own path. In some cases, this will require keeping a certain distance from the family while for others this might not be necessary, you have to discern what’s your scenario and not use your family as an excuse.
Comfort – A Poisonous Drug
Being under the influence of the parental complex means that you either live a life trying to fulfill their expectations or trying to prove them wrong, in this second case, you do everything they wouldn’t approve. Either way, it’s not a conscious decision because everything is done in reaction to the parents, it’s not an expression of your individuality.
Taking things into a procrastination context, the quickest way to realize if you’re under the influence of a negative mother complex is if you’re constantly seeking COMFORT.
In other words, you’re procrastinating because you HAVE the perfect
conditions.
I know, a bit of a mind fuck…
The problem is that you got used to your current level of comfort and this keeps you stuck. Comfort is one of the most powerful drugs that exists. I love it when I can just brew myself a great cup of coffee and simply stare into the void. I just want to do nothing and pretend that I don’t have any adult responsibilities for a while, lol.
The problem is that people usually fall in love with this “pretending” and it quickly becomes an escapism. Whenever there’s a situation demanding growth, instead of facing it head-on, they choose the easy way out.
When you do that, you also open the door to a mediocre life. This mediocre spirit whispers in your ear, “It’s ok to eat that extra cookie”. “It’s ok to spend all of your time doom scrolling or watching adult videos”.
Quickly, it converts into a master of puppets keeping you hostage of your own “comfort”. The mindset “If I just had the perfect conditions I could start”, perfectly encapsulates it. There’s always one more book you have to read, there’s always one more thing you have to buy, the list never ends!
The first thing you have to realize is that comfort is subjective. You might not think that your current life is objectively comfortable, yet, you got used to it. Worse, you keep lying to yourself saying that everything is ok.
Avoiding making a decision doesn’t make things magically disappear, it just makes the imaginary monster bigger.
Until you admit to yourself that things must change, I’m sorry to tell you, but you’ll just keep wasting your life. This “comfort” is poisonous and will corrode your health, relationships, and all your potential to live a great life.
Now, looking on the bright side.
Once you understand that you’ve been lying to yourself, you also realize that you had the perfect conditions to start all along. Let’s be serious, if you’re reading this right now, I’m sure you have all you need to start whatever you want to do.
Instead of choosing comfort every time, you have to learn how to intelligently apply friction to yourself and we’re gonna explore that in future articles.
I’d like to end with this quoting Kant – “You’re only free when you choose to do what you don’t want to do”.
Many people have this childish idea that if they form a lot of habits they’ll stop having fun and life will become boring, but it’s exactly the other way around. If you don’t develop discipline, your destructive desires will continue to ruin your life.
It’s not fun having bad financial habits and never knowing if you’ll have enough money. It’s not fun not being able to control what we eat, constantly put on weight and feel disgusting when we look in the mirror.
It’s not fun not being able to accomplish our tasks and feel guilty, ashamed, and like a failure. Not only that, when you don’t have good habits you waste a lot of time in meaningless tasks, such as thinking about what you’re gonna eat or wear.
However, when we form good habits everything becomes automatic and we don’t have to think about it anymore, it becomes effortless and this frees a lot of mental energy. We stop being worried about meaningless stuff and we can apply this energy to deep thinking and creativity.
Having good habits and deciding exactly how we’ll spend our time, resources, and energy is extremely powerful and brings immense freedom. It’s time to stop being a slave of your illusory comfort. You’re not lost, you’re afraid of responsibility and carving your own path.
Here’s a deep dive into the mother and father complex – Conquer The Puer and Puella Aeternus
Rafael Krüger – Jungian Therapist

I am Jinn: The Witch, The Eclectic Pagan and one of the Elders of Temple Arcere. As a practitioner of Witchcraft for over 2 decades, and running this temple as a Third of a Whole for over a decade; I am yet again honored to open the doors of membership to those that are interested and that have an open mind about other pagan perspectives, particularly those of Shadow Work and Authentic practices.
We are looking to add more ACTIVE members to our ONLINE Temple. There will be time requirement you will need to follow if interested in joining us. We have an active private chatroom that serves the purpose of reminding our members of this obligation, as well as facilitating connections with other Eclectic Witches within our Temple home.
Even though this Temple is online, we expect you to treat it as you would a physical coven. (without the hassle of bad weather, gas money, finding a ride, driving in general... etc etc) and BE ACTIVE! Your spiritual practice is important to us and we look forward facilitating that growth WITH you. Where ever that may lead.
We put so much work into running this Temple, it would be a waste of your time and ours if you don’t participate. So upon 30 consecutive days of inactivity from ANY member, (unless a reason is provided ahead of time), removal is the next logical step. This timer extends indefinitely, that means when you take breaks without telling any of the Elders, you risk removal after a month. It takes 21 days to form a habit and 90 to create a lifestyle, so PLEASE take your membership with us seriously!
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Blessings!

Previous
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So, if you’re just joining us, I work at a haunted zoo now. Since I’ve gotten some rest, it feels like I’ve got my head on straight, at least, so I’d like to continue where I left off.
I sat on the floor in the office after meeting the ghost until I’d settled my rattled mind (and realized I’d forgotten to ask her name, how rude is that?). I took a deep breath and got up off the floor. Walking over and falling into the rolling chair in front of the large screen of camera views, when I brought up the camera that covered the area in which I’d spotted her, she was still there, and it seemed she hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, at a loss, I continued to watch her. The ghost hung around for another five minutes or so, appearing to look at a few things off-screen, though I’m not sure what. Then she walked off into the forest and left the view of the cameras. I wasn’t sure if she vanished into the ether or if she’d gone looking into the trees to look for something.
But that wasn’t the end of the job interview, so let me jump back there. It continued into what kind of animals the zoo had, with Andrew asking me how much experience I had with dangerous animals.
I took a moment to consider the question. “So, ah…I’ve been going hunting and fishing with a neighbor since I was sixteen,” I told him. “We always have to keep an eye out for gators, bears, and hogs. Then there’s snakes, of course…snapping turtles… Since I’ve lived here my whole life and been aiming for a job with wildlife for a long time, I know a lot about the animals in Arkansas in general. But good advice for all of the above is avoid them, so I’ve had encounters, but I don’t know if you’d say I have experience with them.”
“That’s fine,” Andrew said, nodding. “That’s an answer I’m satisfied with. Now, the ghost was the appetizer, Ripley; here’s the main course. To start with, the pay isn’t twenty-five an hour. It’s fifty.”
Staring in shock for a moment, I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. But that’d be weird to post online considering what applicants think we need, so I halved it.”
“That’s… Okay, why?”
“The animals are already here. You just can’t see them.”
I stared at him for a long moment, some disbelief worming its way into my expression, before saying, “Sorry, what?”
“There’s a chance you’d naturally never see them, or at least some of them,” he continued casually. “It depends on both your genetics and how long you stay on the job. I can naturally see six of them, but that’s it. Suzanne can see all of them, and more. Some are what people would label demons or ghosts. Or magic. Mostly you’d call them cryptids. The ghost was just a warm-up; I mentioned her first because it never takes more than a week to see her if you work the night shift. If you manage to handle her okay, soon you’ll be able to see the animals too. The more time you spend on the grounds, for weird reasons,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the direction of the back door, “the more you’ll be able to see.”
“So, this…this is a zoo for cryptids,” I echoed slowly. He nodded once, waiting to find out what kind of reaction I would have. I gestured vaguely around the room. “If this is a hidden camera show, will you cut me a check for showing up and participating?”
Andrew coughed out a chuckle and shook his head. “No joke. There are a ton of stories out there that have been written to death, pulverized until they’re not the Grimm stories of old and instead they’re Disney films. A lot of those stories come from what some humans have seen. There are dozens of other worlds pressed up against ours, and occasionally things come through by accident. If they’re smart, they’ll lay low and then make their way back when they can. If not, they become local folklore until someone helps them back. I’m just from London, but Suzanne is from somewhere else. She hires people like us for this zoo. Humans.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “That makes no sense. Why would she hire a muggle for a magic zoo?”
Andrew burst out laughing at that, and then waited to gather himself before he continued. “Fair point, but this is less about magic and more about animals, and you’re missing some information that will explain it. First of all, if I misjudge an employee, and they think they can make bank by outing the endangered and valuable animals we have, it’s easy to relocate the zoo.”
“Because magic?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied, ignoring the thread of skepticism in my tone. “That means it isn’t the end of the world if that happened, though it is a pain in the arse. But second…let me ask you a question. Speaking of reality shows, say the Discovery Channel put out a call to replace Steve Irwin when he passed. Imagine they had a line out the door,” he said with a gesture, “of people who thought they had the skill and natural talent to replace him, to take on everything he’d been doing his whole life. How many do you reckon would lose an arm, a leg, or their life, by the end of the day?”
My lips parted in surprise and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re saying people from…wherever…they’re just as dumb as humans, but they’re worse, because they actually think they can handle these things.”
Andrew pointed the pen at me. “Things. Exactly. You called them things. Suzanne and her friends grew up with them and would call them animals. These animals have dispositions and temperaments that we’ve studied for as long as there have been scientists. Where Suzanne’s from, they know the weaknesses of these animals, and also they’re in enclosures here, even if you and I can’t see the walls because they’re invisible things called ‘wards’. If I hire someone who’s got magic on top of all that, they’ll have almost no instinctive fear.
“Everything here is nocturnal, and every one of them is a hunter. Some of these things? Humans see them and they pass out. Not that I want you passing out, but I need someone who is scared of these things, who knows to stay out of the enclosures no matter what. Not someone who thinks they can train them to do tricks, who gets close enough for them to grab a mouthful of hair and drown them. Once, we had a night shift manager injured, and once killed, because they didn’t take these animals seriously enough.”
Thinking back to the Sea World orca incident I knew he’d been referencing, I remembered wondering how someone at that level of her profession could be so careless as I watched the video on YouTube. It made sense when he explained it like that. I hesitated before mentally throwing my hands up and going all in. “So, why put this place here, then? If they’re endangered and also dangerous, why have a zoo at all instead of just a small reserve?”
He pursed his lips, looking disappointed in me. “Ripley. You know that already. You already said as much.”
Thinking back through our conversation, I said, “The rich humans who pay top dollar to see supernatural animals.”
“Not humans,” he told me. “But people, yes, and they are rich, and they’re making donations and spending their money on a ticket here because everything we have is endangered.”
“So…”
I just let my voice trail off and my mind started to drift. Andrew remained silent, letting me do so. There’s that thing people say, ‘I believe that you believe it,’ which is just a kinder way of saying, ‘Bullshit.’ Parents say it about closet monsters. Psychologists say it to people who say they’ve been abducted and probed by aliens. I wanted to say it to Andrew.
But I also wanted a job. If it meant working overnight at an empty zoo, that was fine. When it came down to it, especially when I took the tone of our conversation into account, this was a zoo specifically focused on preserving endangered ‘animals’, and it was allegedly doing important work. Also, if this turned out to be the real deal and I started seeing the animals, I would deal with it, just like I would deal with an enclosure that had a lion or tiger or gorilla. If it came with a ghost and invisible creatures, I really didn’t see what the difference was, if I couldn’t go in the enclosures either way.
On that note, I’d like you to imagine a kid who looks at a roller coaster, watching everyone screaming and grinning as they go up and down and all around and they’re like, ‘Heck, I could do that! That looks like a blast!’
Then they get on, the first drop hits, and they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake.
“All right,” I sighed. “I can’t say I’m going to turn down a job just because it’s going to be scary. Especially not one with this paycheck.”
Andrew smiled. “Awesome. There’s an adjustment process for anyone working here, similar to a dog that gets adopted, actually. I know the general guidelines of, ‘three days, three weeks, three months’ in terms of milestones, until they finally feel they’re where they’re supposed to be,” he told me, “and you can think of your time here along those lines. I really think you’re a great fit, and once you reach the milestone of working here for three months, I’ll officially consider you our new night shift guard. And I hope you’ll stay with us for many years.”
I nodded and smiled at the flattery of an employer wanting me to work a great job for them for a long time. I’d never had a dog, but those milestones were well-known among anyone who knew animals, especially dogs. The first three days, the dog is getting to know its new digs, exploring, and decompressing. At three weeks, they’ve gotten used to their environment and are starting to get comfortable with their surroundings and the routines of the humans they live with. By three months, they know the rules and follow them, they trust you, and they feel they are where they’re meant to be. I could only hope to be so lucky.
I saw the ghost two days ago and she has yet to make another appearance (for those who are curious, I asked, and her name is Leila), and I still hadn’t seen any animals. I did hear one, though, I feel compelled to note. A growling roar sounded from the lake on occasion, echoing across the vast zoo, sending a shiver down my spine. Whatever that animal was, it sounded gigantic.
Andrew said there was apparently a group that wanted to visit for a birthday and they were offering a huge donation, so he let me know they were making an exception and that this group would be walking through the park that night. That meant I’d be watching people watching animals that, as far as I could tell, weren’t there.
It was anticlimactic. Even the three people who came for the tour just looked like people, not like aliens or something eldritch from another dimension, and I stayed in the security office the whole time. Andrew was the one giving the tour. I watched them spend about five minutes at each enclosure, the hour or so that they were there passing without incident. It was clear that they were able to see all the animals, though, since they motioned excitedly at each enclosure and spoke to Andrew, who presumably answered any questions they had.
If they could see the animals, that was that. There was still that niggle in the back of my head, from my twenty-three years of life never encountering anything like ghosts or cryptids, telling me that this was ridiculous. Waiting for someone to knock on the door, a camera mounted on their shoulder, to tell me that it was a big joke and they wanted to see how long I’d play along. But from all I saw, this was a real place with real, invisible animals.
I do carry a taser and pepper spray in my capacity as a security guard. Though it isn’t for the animals, since they’re in the enclosures; they’re actually for the rare instance of a break-in. Andrew mentioned that it had happened several times it the past, someone trying to steal an animal in the hopes of selling it on the black market. They’d been successful before, but apparently my predecessor Roger was good at his job, and mostly they left in handcuffs.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of confrontation, but my job was to call Andrew and then confront the person, not kick their ass. That’s what the police were for, or rather, the people Andrew would call in lieu of police in certain situations.
Fifty bucks an hour. That’s the key here.
Andrew hadn’t set up direct deposit, since he was sticking with a strategy of waiting to see if I’d continue to work there once I found out myself dealing with the animals (I’ve decided I am going to just call them animals). Instead, I got an old-fashioned check after my shift every Friday. The number on the first check was delightful. I went out that evening and had a big dinner at the local diner, order my most expensive favorites on the menu and a big slice of pie for dessert.
When it came to the paychecks in general, though, I had this weird feeling of not wanting to tell my dad and brother about the fact that it was actually $50/hr. I previously mentioned that my dad, his name’s Nathan if you’re curious, works at a local grocery store. Our town has a couple food franchises, but I think its size is just short of whatever threshold Walmart uses to decide where to open. He earns $14/hr. and that’s after the tiny raises he’s gotten over the past thirteen years.
That’s not to say he’d feel bad about not making as much as me. On the contrary, he would be ecstatic for me and really proud. But, like me, he’d be suspicious. That hourly rate was the biggest hint that this was more than just a private zoo for cryptids. And as soon as that fat check cleared without problems, my dad wouldn’t be satisfied with reassurances; he’d want to come visit the zoo and look around.
I’d told him it’s a private preservation with scheduled (expensive) visits only and that it had only eleven animals, so he’d been appeased by me brushing off the idea of a visit. Also, I took a few photos of my workplace; one of the security room, one of me sitting in my chair, one photo of the many screens I watched, and a selfie where I was feigning sleep out of boredom, slouched in my chair with my mouth open in a faux snore. That let him feel like he knew where I was and what I was doing, and that I was safe.
But if I told him I was making double what he thought, my father would practically order me to quit. No job was worth my safety, he’d tell me. I was quite of the opposite opinion, however, considering how crucial any and all conservation efforts were these days. Especially with the steep extinction levels due to humans competing with other animals for space, not to mention climate change. Working in any job that helped preserve species and keep ecosystems in balance, or put them back in balance, was so important.
Then again, my father would also point out something I had realized right away: the fact was that I was working with endangered species that were not from Earth. I wasn’t helping my planet. To be honest, though…that didn’t matter to me. Especially after that talk with Andrew about why he hired a human for this job, I figured whichever dimension these animals came from had the equivalent of us, razing forests to the ground, clouding the planet with pollution, and leaving the animals with no avenue of recourse when yet more land was taken from them.
I really do hope to keep working here for a long time, though, and not just because of the money. I can’t help it; I want to know what these things were, and I want to work with them, to do the job of a zookeeper. The same way you go up to the chain-link fence to get close to a carnivore on the other side who thinks you’d make a nice afternoon snack. You just want to be closer to them, to experience that incredible, daunting feeling of being in their presence.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before I got what I wanted.
The day after we had the tour go through, I was doing my sweep when I saw the ghost again. She was sitting on a small boulder in the same area I’d seen her the first time, looking identical, blood covering the front of her slashed shirt, the wounds visible underneath. I stopped and stood there for a moment before I decided to raise my hand in a small wave.
The young woman cocked her head at me and raised a hand in the air in an imitation of my gesture, her expression showing a bit of curiosity.
She was low-key, seemingly not concerned with my presence, looking at me as a novel phenomenon in her world. I wondered what that world consisted of. Was she always here, sometimes visible and sometimes not? Or did she have another world next to ours, in the ether, where she left everything in this world behind and floated in her disembodied form? Did she still feel emotions? Was that really curiosity on her face, or was I projecting? Did she feel happiness? Fear? Did she have the option of moving on, or was she stuck here?
Many questions that I might never get the answers to. And that was assuming Andrew knew the answers, since I’d never met Suzanne Cooper and he hadn’t even mentioned that possibility. This place was clearly her baby, but I’m sure running it was a lot of work. Plus, if she was rich enough to own it, she was rich enough to have other businesses and charities to run.
When it comes to the enclosures, they’re all wrapped by a barrier of some kind, though never one that seems adequate. There was not a single place with the ugly metal weavings of a chain-link fence, and no stretches of circular razor wire. Instead, there are nice fences. Black iron, or wrought steel fencing in a similar style to the one circling the perimeter of the zoo, just shorter and with different patterns. Or a spaced picket fence, the wood stained in some tone of brown, or a split two-rail fence. As if to say, ‘This is the border of your enclosure, but we’re just letting you know out of courtesy.’
When I started to pass enclosure number seven last night, a young woman’s voice spoke, “Hello.”
I startled, unaware that I hadn’t been alone. “Oh. Hi,” I said, staring at her standing a few yards in.
She had been next to a large tree and I hadn’t seen her. This enclosure was behind a picket fence, and she walked through the large area of wild grasses and flowers that stretched across the other side of the fence. There were fewer tall grasses closer to the fence, which I guessed was because it had been tromped down by her regular pacing along it when there were visitors, or if she wanted to see the various enclosures of the zoo. Her sudden appearance was a bit weird, considering I had been expecting to see a cryptid and instead I was looking at, it seemed, an attractive Asian woman.
She wore a black kimono, the soft silk robe draped gently over her body, with beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms, more so over her left side, and red and blue birds with their wings spread. A sash wrapped around her abdomen, she wore socks and sandals on her feet, and her hair was up in those rolls that gave volume to the style.
I was no expert on any fashion, much less that of another country, so I just assumed it was all traditional Japanese clothing. Most likely, the visitors who came liked to see a certain time-honored style and that’s what she stuck with. Or maybe she played on stereotypes. That would be amusing.
“I’m Yui. It’s nice to meet you,” she spoke, arriving at the border of the fence and holding out a hand for me to shake.
I’d been standing about three yards away from her, and I’ll be honest, muscle memory tried to kick in. But I only made it two steps, my hand starting to rise, before I froze, the hand falling limply at my side. “Nice to meet you, too,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Damn. I wonder how many times that honey trap works back where she comes from.
The pleasant look on her face faded, and she lowered her hand. “You won’t shake hands with me? Isn’t that rude?”
“I mean, I kind of like my hand where it is. You know, attached to me.”
Her demure smile widened into something more amused. “I would never do something so revolting.”
Looking her up and down, as if more visual information would give me more knowledge of what she was, I asked her, “What would you do?”
“I would be less wasteful,” she said softly.
A finger of ice trailed down my spine, and I had the sudden image in my head of her grabbing my outstretched hand in an iron grip and yanking me over the fence, leaving me to sprawl on the ground. Then killing and consuming me efficiently, without a single careless step, the same way humans slaughtered pigs, using everything from the hog but the squeal. I was struck with a shiver at the idea of her consuming everything from me but my screams.
Slowly, I took one step further down the path, then another. Just as I got to a walking pace, though, I realized the woman had started walking too, in the same direction. I’d have eventually gotten to the end of her enclosure and keep going, leaving her behind, but she spoke up. “Are you leaving?”
I came to a stop, meeting her gaze again. “My job is to walk the zoo every hour. Then I’ll get back to the security room and stay there until my next walk.”
“Have you met the others yet?”
I hesitated before saying, “Just Leila.”
She blinked languidly. “That means nobody welcomed you here.”
“Andrew did.”
She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she slowly started to lean forward, and I flinched backward a few steps further as I saw insect legs start curling out from her back.
No. Not insect. Arachnid.
The eight legs ended in small ‘paws’ with tiny claws, a layer of hairs covering the leg from top to bottom, like any typical tarantula. I took two more slow steps back and my mouth went dry as the jointed legs just kept lengthening, until they were large enough to lever her off the ground.
My gaze had been on the spider legs, but my heart skipped a beat as I realized her human legs had melded together and turned into a bulging abdomen. Her skin was shifting to a carapace, eventually all the way up to her shoulders and down her arms, her fingers elongating and her nails stretching to claws. From there down, her body was that of a pale tarantula with pedipalps the size of my arms and piercing fangs in her jaws that looked like they could take my head off.
There was a moment, my vision blurring, where I was worried that I might piss myself. The part of my brain that still had its humor intact in that moment told me that I should keep an emergency set of clothes in my car, or at the very least, start wearing Depends to work.
“I show you my true form,” she said softly, her voice now raspy like an eighty-year-old after a lifelong smoking habit. “Welcome to Suzanne Cooper’s zoo. The night shift guard for many years was Roger, before he retired and the zoo moved, and I miss him dearly. What should I call you?”
I choked on my words. There was no way my throat was going to cooperate enough for me to clearly get a sentence out. Instead, I realized my legs had taken control of the situation themselves, unsatisfied with my conscious brain’s decision to stand and stare, taking steps backward. I backed up a yard, then five yards, then ten.
My mind focused on the fact that spiders don’t waste anything, and pictured my demise. I’d be wrapped in a cocoon, killed, and made nice and mushy before she had me for dinner.
The whole time, my brain was a frenzied mess, my pupils were probably the size of dimes, and I was staring at that tiny, pathetic fence between her and me. There was so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I felt like my bones were vibrating. The fence was, to my eyes, the only thing between us. The only thing keeping her from tackling and killing me. My only hope was that she’d do it quickly.
But she didn’t move. As I absorbed her innocent, polite words, the look on her face was calm, and I wondered if this was typically the way a conversation went before she devoured her prey. I wondered how many people she’d eaten. Not humans, not people from Earth, but the ones from where she came from. The fact that she doesn’t scare the shit out of those people means they’re staggeringly dumber than humans.
Finally, I rounded a corner, both relieved at having her out of my sight and worried that she would take that moment to come find me. When she’d been within eyeshot, I had at least known where she was and could run in the other direction. But I didn’t hear the sound of faint footsteps moving rapidly toward me. All was quiet, in that deep, smothering way that only an empty business in the middle of the night in small town America could be.
My hands trembling, I barely paid attention to anything but the confirmation that my surroundings were free of the colossal spider as I finally got back to the door. Grabbing the handle and letting my eyes dart around for about ten seconds and my ears prick for the slightest sound, I finally swiped my key card across the pad and went inside, shutting the door behind me and engaging the backup deadbolt.
Maybe that was why they had decided on keycards. If I was running from something and panicking, using an actual key or inserting the card like at a hotel would keep me from getting to safety considering my hands were shaking enough to mix a margarita.
Walking over to my chair, I fell into it, letting my body flush itself of terror as I looked up at the cameras. There she was, still in arachnid form, exactly where I’d left her behind that rinky-dink fence, casually looking around and slowly pacing back and forth. I stared at her as my racing heart gradually slowed, and a minute or so later she turned on her eight legs and walked back into the trees.
Whatever invisible fences the enclosures have apparently work, which is nice, because I wasn’t keen on getting killed by one of the creatures here. And that’s what brings me here, spilling out everything that’s happened so far. Because nearly passing out from terror isn’t something I wanted to deal with at work, obviously, but I keep going over what she did in my head again and again, and I feel like I reacted like a child who spotted a wolf spider on their bed. I started to worry for my overactive sense of self-preservation, at least in my capacity as an employee here.
The spider didn’t even try to hurt me, and so I was feeling a bit foolish. Even annoyed, actually, at the fact that I’d freaked out so hard and took off instead of trying to engage in at least basic conversation. I got the sense that she wasn’t at human-level intelligence, but I was never going to be able to hold any level of conversation with an alligator.
Sure, she did mention that she wouldn’t be so crass as to yank off my hand because she’d rather just have my entire corpse, but wouldn’t a wolf do the same if it was hungry? Wouldn’t any carnivore? Actually, they probably would’ve been satisfied with one of my hands. The fear here was from the fact that she turned into a giant spider. If she’d turned into Clifford, I would’ve reacted the same way, if not better than, meeting Leila.
With that, I decided I’m staying on the job. Considering how frustrated I can get with foolish people, it’s a bit hypocritical, and I’m being a bit of an idiot. But…there are definitely wards keeping them in their enclosures. Also, I signed up for creatures for another dimension, whether or not I believed in them at the time, and I will not let encountering my first one in an objectively boring way be the reason I quit.
The money is a factor, I’ll grant you. Of course it is. And I can’t spend it if I’m dead, but all signs point to surviving as long as I don’t do anything dumb. Also, yes, I’ll admit there’s a not-so-little voice in the back of my head that’s desperate to know what else is here. I never thought I’d do something like this, but finding out these things are real, I honestly do want to learn more about them.
Still, though, I decided to call Andrew at the end of my shift to ask if the pepper spray and taser I carried worked on a certain spider, as well as the other animals I’d yet to meet.
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/storiesbykaren