Targus rolling computer bag

I'm 3 for 3 now. 3 years in a row, I've shot Pride events on B&W film, and 3 times the film has not yielded any photos.
1st year in Paris, could have been Washi D in my Zeiss Ikon. Tore a sprocket hole on the first shot, came out empty from the lab.
2nd year in Brussels with my Voigtlander. The colour film in my 2nd camera came out great, one of my favourites. But when I tried to spool the B&W film in a dark bag, user error got it exposed and the roll was ruined.
And today my roll from this year in Liège was returned from the lab with not a single shot on it. Only about half of it was Pride, but it still took its due. Shot on my Chinon reflex.
These are the only times this has happend to me. 3 different films, 3 cameras, same outcome from the same series of events.
Pride demands colour film. Or no film at all.

We're going to England/France for 17 days this summer. Mostly public transit, with a brief car rental. Will have access to laundry in a few places. Then, a week on the East Coast of the US with family before flying home.
Nonstop flight to London, then LondonLyon flight, Train LyonParis, Flight ParisNYC, then train JFKCT.
What I need to bring:

• Clothing for two adults and a nearly 4 year old.
• Car Seat (Ride Safer Travel vest, so it is.small)
• Travel Stroller (Can be gate checked or go in overhead). We walk a lot, and don't think he will be able to keep up walking all the time.
• Toddler meds (tylenol, zyrtec) (going to see if I can bring chewables versions to avoid liquid issues in carry ons , since EU is always way stricter about volume when flying there.

We want to have a setup where 1 parent pushes the stroller. and the other parent tackles the bags.
I have a few scenarios:

• Try to pack us all in a 25" travelpro checked bag, 1 underseat rolling bag with trolley sleeve, and two daypacks.
• 2 carry ons, 2 backpacks. MAYBE the underseat rolling bag with trolley sleeve. Would allow us to avoid checking bags. My concern here is one person rolling two bags. Are there any stackable setups here? Person with stroller could also handle one bag if needed for short distances.

If I buy souveniers I want to bring back I will buy a bag (either a carry on size, or a weekender size bag with trolley sleeve) in Paris.

Hi everyone, thank you for taking the time to read about my situation.
For the Spring 2024 semester, I was accepted into a research program at my university. The way the application process works is you are given several different research topics/teams to express your level of interest in. They use this information to help better decide which team to place you in (assuming you are accepted into the program). The structure of each team consists of: 3-4 undergraduate students; a graduate student that mentors and guides the team; and a professor who is faculty who supervises the project.
Throughout the duration of this semester, my team and I have gotten quite familiar with the work we were doing. The professor was rarely a part of our weekly discussion meetings, so it was really the graduate mentor and the undergraduate students working together. While still maintaining the professionalism of conducting research, there was also casual and light-hearted banter that we felt comfortable with.
The research project is primarily focused on mathematics research, but it does require computer programming experience as well. My girlfriend is a computer science major and would sometimes sit in during our weekly meetings to see the research we were doing. I thought that maybe she would enjoy seeing what the work is like. It would also help her decide if this is something she sees herself doing next semester. My graduate mentor took note of her possible interest in doing research in the future.
Additional context: my graduate mentor and his girlfriend both study mathematics, and they both spend a lot of time together in the mathematics department. It seems like they feel comfortable mixing in their personal/professional lives together.
At the end of the Spring semester, research applications for the Fall semester opened up. My partner decided she wanted to give it a shot and decided to apply for the research program. I also decided to reapply to continue my research for next semester. Since we get to choose which topics we felt most interested in, my girlfriend chose a topic she felt most interested (pattern formation), and I chose the topic pertaining to my original research interest (AI). I think both of us had different ideas of which one we felt most interested in doing.
My research team decided to have an end-of-semester dinner to celebrate our research project and achievements for this semester (my girlfriend was not there). My graduate mentor told me over dinner that he decided to put her on the same team as me for next semester. I don't really know how I felt hearing that information, I didn't even know he was a part of the decision-making process. I'm sure he thought he was doing a kind gesture by pairing two partners together on the same research team. But I wish he would have asked me if that was something I was okay with. I don't know why, but as much as I liked having her around, I also felt like some boundaries were being mixed? I want to see my partner as a girlfriend, not as a coworker. Additionally, two of the original research members were graduating and wouldn't be there for next semester and another research member is deciding to not continue. So next semester it would just be an entirely new team (and not the one I bonded with this semester).
In the middle of dinner, I texted my girlfriend about the early information I had just received from my graduate mentor. She said, "How does he know? They already decided? Oh brother. *sends an anxious cat GIF rolling around in bed*". I texted her saying how I remembered she wanted to be a part of the other research team, to which she acknowledged and said she was happy to be a part of my research team.
I do care about my partner a lot, and I also wish to have my work life and personal relationship life separate. My partner and I already have our own lives so enmeshed together on campus as it already is. This past semester, I was working part-time as an assistant in the math department. Sometimes my partner would come by and lounge around the same area I am working in. We would also study together on campus, or try to see each other in between classes or go out for lunch together. When we are not on campus, we would drive each other home and spend our nights together. Admittedly, I do feel like my academic performance decreased ever since I started dating her. My studies are something I care about deeply, and I just need my own time and space to focus on that too. If we are on the same research team together, I won't be able to focus on the quality of my work. I would prefer to have time alone to where I can focus on my work. Outside of that, my time is all of hers! We are both very affectionate and spend a lot of quality time together outside of the academic environment.
I don't know what the dynamic would be like between us if we were on the same research team together. Doing research can be kind of stressful sometimes, and I don't want that dynamic to enter our relationship either. At this point, I'm leaning towards not continuing the research project next semester. I don't want the additional stress, I won't have the same team, and I don't want to mix my relationship dynamics with my professional/work life dynamics. Does this make me an asshole, or is this just me setting boundaries for myself? I don't want my girlfriend to feel hurt or that I am abandoning her (she has a fear of abandonment).
I haven't communicated this information to my partner yet, nor have I told my graduate research mentor about how I feel about the situation. I have until the end of the week to make a decision as to whether I want to pursue this research project. What should I do, how should I deliver this and communicate this? If it helps, we met one year ago and have been together for nearly 9 months (6 months of an incredibly long situationship where I wanted us to be official and she wasn't ready, and now 3 months of exclusive relationship/official couple).
TL;DR: Graduate mentor put my GF and I on same research team next semester without asking me beforehand if that was okay. I would prefer to keep my professional work life and my love/relationship life separate.

As a lab project or homework, the supervisor gave me and my teammate a game to write in assembly. The conditions are very hard and the game is ridicuolus. But we have to do. Even chatgpt couldn't. I'll be so glad if someone help me. Here is the conditions: · Create a 80 × 25 character game screen. You are given a bird image in bird.txt Lile. Image is divided six pieces and matched with the dice numbers as 1 vase. 2 legs 3 body 4 left wing 5 right wing 6 head · The bird image must be completed starting from the vase and next piece must be connected to the image on screen. For example, there is no piece in the screen, players must roll dice until 1 comes. When pieces 1 and 2 are on the screen, next piece can only be piece 3. After piece 3 is completed, pieces 4, 5, and 6 can be placed on the image since all three are connected with piece 3. · The player uses space key to roll the dice. · The player’s aim is to complete the bird Lirst. · During the play, a score box which contain the real-time score has to be displayed to the player. · Scoring: ↓ completer of the bird gets 1 pt. · The game is over when bird image is completed 3 times. The high score player wins the game. · If the winner is one of the human player, the winner name is displayed on a blank screen as ”The Winner is .......” with all capital letter player name. · If the winner is computer, ”Nice try, better luck next time” is displayed on a blank screen. · If a player wins Lirst two rounds, third round is skipped and the winner is displayed. · There should be a menu which contains ↓ Single Player ↓ Enter the Player name : ↓ Two Players ↓ Enter the Player 1 name : ↓ Enter the Player 2 name : ↓ Credits (show your name/surname, and ID on the screen.) · Interface should be deLined with 80x25 characters 16 color text mode (Video Mode 03H for INT 10H). · When the code is assembled executable format should be an .EXE Lile, so use EXE template for your project. (Not .COM or .BIN Lile) · The assembly code Lile should include all the libraries it may call. The libraries that are already in emu8086 (i.e. in Llat assembler) may not be included and directly called. · The source code should be assembled in emu8086. (i.e. Llat assembler) · The application should not get stuck in any unnecessary inLinite loops. · Program should be able to terminated with ESC key on keyboard in any time and return to operating system successfully. (Optionally a Close button can be added to interface.)

Hey fashion enthusiasts,
Traveling is one of my greatest passions, and one of the best parts of exploring new places is discovering unique leather pieces from different cultures. These leather souvenirs not only hold special memories but also add a distinctive touch to my everyday outfits. I wanted to share some fashion inspiration and styling tips on how to incorporate these diverse leather treasures into your wardrobe. Here are some of my favorite pieces and how I style them:

1. Moroccan Leather Bag

• Piece: Handcrafted leather satchel from Marrakech.
  
• Styling Tips: This versatile piece adds a bohemian vibe to any outfit. I love pairing it with a flowy maxi dress and ankle boots for a casual, chic look. For a more polished ensemble, I combine it with tailored trousers, a crisp white shirt, and loafers.
  

1. Italian Leather Belt

• Piece: Classic leather belt from Florence.
  
• Styling Tips: A high-quality leather belt is a timeless accessory. I often use it to cinch the waist of an oversized blazer or dress, creating a more structured silhouette. It also works great with high-waisted jeans and a tucked-in blouse for a sophisticated yet effortless style.
  

1. Argentinian Leather Jacket

• Piece: Distressed leather jacket from Buenos Aires.
  
• Styling Tips: This jacket is a statement piece that instantly elevates any outfit. I like to wear it over a simple t-shirt and jeans combo for an edgy, laid-back look. For a night out, I pair it with a sleek black dress and heeled boots to add a touch of rock 'n' roll glam.
  

1. Indian Leather Sandals

• Piece: Intricately designed leather sandals from Jaipur.
  
• Styling Tips: These sandals are perfect for adding a hint of exotic flair to your summer wardrobe. I style them with a lightweight linen dress or shorts and a breezy top for a comfortable yet stylish outfit. They also look great with a long skirt and a fitted tank top for a more boho-chic vibe.
  

1. Mexican Leather Clutch

• Piece: Embroidered leather clutch from Oaxaca.
  
• Styling Tips: This vibrant clutch is a fantastic way to incorporate a pop of color and cultural charm into your look. I often use it to accessorize a little black dress or a monochrome outfit, letting the clutch be the focal point. It’s also a perfect companion for a casual day out, paired with jeans and a colorful blouse.
  

1. Spanish Leather Boots

• Piece: Artisan leather boots from Madrid.
  
• Styling Tips: These boots are a staple for both fall and winter. I love wearing them with skinny jeans and a cozy sweater for a classic, comfortable look. They also complement a midi skirt and a fitted turtleneck, creating a balanced and stylish ensemble.
  

Incorporating leather pieces from different cultures into your everyday outfits is a wonderful way to celebrate diversity and keep your travel memories alive. Each piece tells a story and adds a unique touch to your style.
I’d love to hear about your favorite leather souvenirs and how you style them. Share your photos and styling tips – let’s inspire each other to blend fashion and travel in the most stylish way!
Happy styling and happy travels!

This might be on the fringe for one bag travel however--3 people, and looking for some thoughts on a pretty minimally packed trip with a 3 year old and 2 adults.
17 day trip, and then a stopover on the East coast for a week taking train from JFKCT. Mostly public transit, want to be able to walk from trains to accomodations as needed. We are taking a nonstop to London, then a flight LondonLyon a few days later. After that, trains. Will be staying some places with laundry but the 3 year old can go through a pair of shorts or two a day .
We need to bring a stroller, so I am trying to come up with a setup where one of use can tackle strollekid and the other luggage. We also have a small travel car seat we need to bring that fits in a backpack.

1. Checked Bag: Travelpro Maxlite 5: 25'' or 29" (Concern with 29" is it is giant and we go overweight) with a underseat travelpro bag carried on handle. 2 backpacks.
   
2. Two carryons to be dragged by one person. We may check one carry on if liquids. 2 small daypacks. Could add on the underseat bag since it has a luggage sleeve so doesn't feel like rolling more. Does any brand make carryons that can be stacked on each other??
   

Also, I know EU is stricter on liquids if we don't check and ideally I can pack some toddler meds(Tylenol , allergy pills and epi-pen), I might try to bring chewable pills instead.
Has anyone done a trip with a similarly aged kid? What worked best for you at that age? Would you try to cram everyones stuff in one big bag, or two smaller international carry ons? Pre kid we did Japan for 2 1/2 weeks with a small carry on each.

Alright, so… I (18F) kinda made this reddit account just to get some feedback about this situation, since I’m too ashamed to ask my parents. The girl in question is 16, and is probably one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met…
(TLDR: This girl I was pretending to be friends with in High School obsessively fantasized about murdering someone for an entire semester, is overbearing as a person, interrogates people on a daily basis and is nosy, injects herself into drama that isn’t her own, throws temper tantrums when she doesn’t get her way, constantly touches people and makes unwarranted comments about girl’s bodies, asked me to draw CP for her, and MADE FUN OF HER SUICIDAL BROTHER. And I wrote a hate-letter telling her that all of this stuff is a problem, but now I feel bad about it because I think she might actually have mental issues. It’s a really wild ride and a long story, so if you choose to read it, you should expect to be here for a while. And it’s High School drama, so I’ll try to discard the boring details.)
There’s this girl, who… I’ll call her Storm. You’ll find out why. Storm quickly became the most annoying person in one of my classes. Any time she talked, she didn’t have anything interesting to say, but just kept going on and on and on endlessly. It was annoying, but we just kinda played along to be nice.

Well… Around a month into school, Storme started opening up and became comfortable talking about personal topics. She told us this story about how one of her other friends (I’ll call her Katie) “betrayed” her the previous year, and then went on to talk about how much she hated Katie and didn’t care if she lived or died. (Honestly, Katie’s offense was miniscule. At most, she replaced Storm with someone else as her best friend. You know… Regular High School drama that wasn’t that deep.) 

Then Storme started saying ludicrous stuff like “I hope she falls into a volcano”, or “I hope she gets eaten by sharks falling from the sky. Like Sharknado.”. But like… She kept saying it constantly, out loud in class. She ranted about how she wanted Katie to get kidnapped by the Mafia, be flown up to the moon, and be dropped into a black hole to become “Katie-spaghetti”. It was honestly really funny at first, so me and a few other people in the class joined in a little bit and added our own stupid, childlike scenarios. (Katie has a reputation for being… A slut. That’s why it was funny at first.)
But then after this schtick got old, Storm just kept going and going and going… She ranted about Katie until it physically hurt to hear her talk anymore. Instead of adjusting herself like a normal person, she just kept yapping until everyone rolled their eyes every time she opened her mouth, because we knew she would just keep going on and on about all of the stupid ways she wanted Katie to die. Even the damn teacher told her to stop doing that, but she never listened and the teacher eventually just gave up.
Katie then gradually started to get more morbid with the things she was saying, to the point where I genuinely considered calling the cops and getting this girl some grippy socks. She talked until she became red-faced, started tweaking, and laughed in a neurotic, nervous angry way while she started wringing out her trembling hands. She genuinely looked and sounded unhinged, and what didn’t help was that she started saying stuff like “There aren’t metal detectors in this school, right?”, and “I wish I wasn’t such a good person, because if I wasn’t, I’d be acting on my impulse to cave her skull in the next time I see her. One of these days I’m going to snap and then just do it..” …Yeah, so I was genuinely considering getting the police involved in this because of those two sentences. Thankfully Katie is safe and sound to this day and Storm never acted on these “impulses”. I’m so glad it worked out that I didn’t have to call the cops, but I was seriously worried for a minute…
She continued to talk about Katie, but mostly to me. She talked about this topic endlessly, her words getting increasingly violent until Christmas break. Yeah… 5 months. She ranted about the ways she wanted Katie to die for 5 whole months. Months. But then when she was done ranting, she finally shut up.
She wrote a note to Katie after Christmas break explaining “You hurt me really badly, but I’m a Christian so I forgive you and I hope you the best”... As if she didn’t rant about her for 5 months straight. Make it make sense. But enough about that. Here’s where my fuck ups began.
I gave her my number and we started saying we were friends, even though I never liked her. I started sending her some art (I'm an artist), and she started asking me some questions about it. She asked if I had ever drawn p0rn in my life. Of course, I said no because I didn't.
And then my worst nightmare: “Have you ever drawn p0rn of them?” …Of course I didn’t, because that would be CP… Plus I’ve never thought of those characters as being “sexual”... They’re literally 14 and 15 years old.
Then basically, she made an indirect “suggestion” for me to draw them together. I said fuck no. Hell fucking no. She tried to convince me to draw them “aged up”, but again I refused. She put me off from drawing those characters ever again. I haven’t drawn them since and I don’t take my sketchbook to school anymore because I don’t want her to see my drawings and be reminded of that BS.
But enough about that… Storm is a church-going girl, and so she has a few church-going friends. (This also makes everything I’ve said before all the more ironic.).
I’ve heard many stories about how Storm interrogates other people, too. If she sees a guy/girl’s name pop up on the screen of someone she knows, she’ll pester them until they give her one of two answers: either “I’ll tell you later”, or the actual answer. She’s done that to me too, in front of everyone in class.
The thing that upsets me about this is that she claims to be “nosy”, but thinks it’s a positive attribute rather than an annoying one. She brags about being “nosy” sometimes.
And the sexual assault… Since we were in a sports medicine class, our projects involved a lot of hands-on things. That didn’t bother me by itself, but with Storm, it was a nightmare. This girl, in the process of strapping an ice bag to my thigh, called my thighs “small”, and said that I have a “beautiful body”. We also did shoulder stretching stuff the next week, and I happened to fall under her care while she stared into my eyes and made weird faces at me, all the while she made sound effects and made the process much more uncomfortable than it needed to be.
One week, we ended up as partners again and she ended up wrapping my shoulder. This shoulder-wrap wasn’t an issue for me, but having her as a partner made it an issue. As expected, she made sound effects, but this time she stated the obvious as if it was new information that nobody would have ever suspected: “Wow, this is squishing your boobies huh?”... Emphasis on the word “boobies”. Jesus Fucking Christ, it was already awkward as hell before she even brought that up, why would she say something like that?? I didn’t even realize that until she brought it up.

In fear of being subjected to her uncomfortable BS again and feeling violated, I texted her and told her that she’s been making me feel uncomfortable, and to please stop being so…. Weird. I get it’s an awkward thing to wrap up your classmate’s thigh, but that’s a moment to keep comments to yourself. Her response? “I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY-” Just… Stop it. I didn’t introduce the topic as a big deal and told her not to worry about it, but she kept apologizing for it nonstop. Just endlessly, like everything else. Even when I tried to change the subject to something else, she just kept apologizing for it practically until she went to bed. (She has a bedtime at 9:30… At 16 years old.) All of this stuff contributed to my overall hatred toward her. I don’t like her at all, and it’s a wonder I didn’t explode and insult her entire personality and deplorable behavior to her face (Meg Griffin style). Things are just so awkward and awful whenever she opens her mouth, and it just doesn't ever stop. But because of all of this, when it came time for my Senior prom, I decided to secretly invite one of my friends from that class as a plus one, and NOT Storm. I was worried that if I told her that to her face, I would all of a sudden be the new “Katie” in her conversations, because the infraction Katie did was so miniscule that it seemed to be less like a “betrayal” than what I did. (In hindsight, it was probably the other way around.) So… I just kept the whole thing to myself and so did the friend I took to prom (I’ll call her Beyonce. Because… She loves Beyonce.). If this wasn’t bad enough, strap in because not even three weeks ago, Beyonce was doing her usual schtick of making fun of random things. She once made fun of cool whip and the entire state of Texas at the same time and somehow made it make perfect sense. She should really have a comedy show, I swear. But this time, Beyonce was making fun of the name “Gage”, saying “Why would anyone name their kid after a 12-gage shotgun?” and “People named Gage seem untrustworthy. I wouldn’t want to be near one in a zombie apocalypse, because he’d just feed me to those fuckers.”. Funny stuff. Storm then said “My brother’s name is Gage”, and in order to preserve the flow of the conversation (and also to tick her off a little, I’m ngl), Beyonce asked her: “Is your brother untrustworthy?” And then without a single millisecond wasted, she said, in a Disney Channel comedy fashion: “Welll… We can’t trust him with his own life, sooo…”.. And then she laughed as if it was funny. Like.. Rib-stitches type of laughing. ….So then the others (understandably) went quiet, which left only me and her. Then my idiot ass decided to say what I was thinking at that moment: “You don’t seem to be taking it seriously. That’s your brother, but you don’t sound sympathetic at all.” I felt bad for that statement, so I apologized for it over text when I got home from school. Quickly, we erupted into an argument, (with me holding back), and she ended up saying “What does it matter to you? He’s not your brother. If Beyonce said that about her brother, you’d laugh. But when I do, it’s bad.”. Beyonce’s brother is 8 years old…. So no, that would be even worse. …So then I had to explain to her how human decency works, and how making fun of your s*icidal siblings isn’t funny whatsoever and how that joke could be considered to be in very poor taste, even for people who like dark humor. When me, Beyonce or Mark made “suicide” jokes, it was about OURSELVES and it was usually in a statement like “I don’t want to take a test next period, I’m gonna kms.”... …Storm ended up getting so mad that we weren’t having a conversation anymore; we were just throwing shit around. I told her that if she was being livestreamed at that moment, she’d be bashed on the whole internet for a week or so and be called “evil” for that joke. In hindsight I shouldn’t have said that, but my goal was to tell her how people perceive those jokes. I ended the conversation and the next day, I apologized to her again. I retracted my statements and told her that I was sorry for talking out of line. She accepted the apology, and things went back to “normal”. She forgot about it, but I didn’t. …So here are the reasons why I feel bad, before I delve into the contents of the “hate letter” I wrote to her. Here’s a list of my crimes: 

• I pretended to be her friend for an entire school year.
• I hid the fact that I was going to prom with Beyonce from her, and then lied to her face repeatedly whenever she asked if I went to prom or not.
• I got into business that wasn’t my own and criticized her.
• I wrote a hate-letter to her that I directed her to read at home on the last day of school.

…Here’s why I feel bad: Storm doesn’t seem to be emotionally intelligent and is unable to control her mouth whenever she feels strong emotions. All she wants is to be listened to and understood, but nobody can and nobody truly wants to. She feigns confidence and goes overboard with compliments in the hopes of catching the attention of people who want to be friends with her. She’s not used to change and is very naive, to the point where (just yesterday) she quit her job at a fast food restaurant after only the first day of working there. For the longest time she didn’t have access to the internet, so she doesn’t really have a means to connect with other people through sharing videos or memes or whatever.

…I feel like a bad person because I knowingly, intentionally played into all of this just for the pathetic reason of making her shut up in class. It’s despicable what I did, and I’m beating myself up for it every day. I was just originally going to leave the school, block her and never talk to her ever again in my life, but when she made that joke about her brother, I decided (stupidly) to take it upon myself to be the bearer of bad news. I gave her a letter. Within the “hate letter”, it isn’t actually hate, per se. It’s more like… A report on the behavior she needs to fix, as well as an admission to my lies over the course of this whole year. I told her the awful truth. I told her about everything I mentioned in this post and tried to keep it “professional”, though I did end up going as far as to say “you have all of the attributes of an obnoxious piece of stale bread”........... And what’s worse is… I told her to read it on the last day of school, and my reasoning is pathetic at best. I told her to read it on the last day of school because I didn’t want her to burden the class with her nonstop ranting about me, since she, Mark and Beyonce are sophomores and I’m the only senior in the “friend group”, which means that I left the school an entire week earlier than them. I’ve been intentionally delaying her pain and still talking to her over text acting like things are “normal” so that she doesn’t read it early, knowing damn well that on that last day of school, my words are going to hurt her so badly that she might not be able to recover for a while. In the letter, I told her that by the time she reads it, I would have already blocked her because I don’t want any more conversation with her due to me feeling so bad and having nothing more to say. If the plan goes right, she’ll read it on May 23rd, and on that day I will block her. I feel awful for all of this. I feel like a monster for this. It’s painful knowing that I’m going to cause her pain and that I planned when it’s going to happen, but at the same time I feel like she deserves it. But at the same time, I know damn well that it wasn’t my place to do that. I should have left everything alone. Nobody I can talk to irl would even hear me out; they’d just stop at the words “hate letter”, which means my only option is to seek advice from people on Reddit. Do my motives for doing things make sense? Am I actually a bad person for this? Am I the asshole? Does she deserve what she’s getting? 

Edit 1: I removed some asterisks (they're annoying). Edit 2: I attempted to shorten it or say things in simple terms. I also fixed spacing and stuff. Sorry.

Intended Major: Data Science / Computer Science (changes depending on the school i'm applying to)
GPA: 3.81 UW, 4.92 W out of 6 (includes courses from middle school 😭 )
UC Gpa since I am applying to a lot of them: 3.90 UW, 4.57 W, 4.17 weighted and capped
Class Rank: Outside top 10% because of some high school courses I took during 7th and 8th grade. Got straight Bs and Cs unfortunately.
SAT: 1450 (750M 700 RW, didn't study at all, trying again in august after studying)
Race: Asian
Gender: Male
Background: middle-class immigrant family.
School: Competitive Public High School
State: Texas
19 APs total (12 taken so far) AP Human Geography- 4, AP World - 5, AP Physics 1- 5, failed Spanish Lang 💀, waiting on all others
Senior year course load - AP Stats, AP Physics C (Mech and E&M), AP Gov/Econ, AP Lit, Data Structures And Algorithms (course after AP CSA, gpa is weighted the same as AP), and Calc III / Differential Equations dual enrollment, APES.
Main Extracurriculars:

1. Created an open-source flight board website/app for a Flight Simulator Multiplayer server that displays information on each flight including departure/arrival times and status. Displays busiest airports and flight routes, and predicts future routes and flight recommendations based on historical data such as ATC availability. Website has 400 users and receives approximately 4.5K visits daily, with a maximum of 1022 distinct users in April. I have also created my own API that gives relevant information such as time remaining and specific departure times that are not shown in the original API that I used to create the flight board.
   
2. Interning at State School’s CS lab this summer and will research and create a final project about how businesses use the data they collect to make future decisions to increase profit. This aligns with my goal of becoming a data scientist and going into the machine learning field, so I thought this would be pretty important.
   
3. Active addon creator for Microsoft Flight Simulator - Developed many addons such as aircraft liveries, realistically modeled airports, and the biggest one being a graphics mod to make the sim look more realistic. ~2500 downloads for all mods
   
4. Computer Science Club: Competed in multiple competitive coding competitions such as UTD Battle of the Brains, A&M Codewars, Lockheed Martin Codequest, Computer Science UIL, and many other online ones such as Devpost and CyberPatriots (did this with my friends for fun, unfortunately didnt win anything). I have also demoed my personal projects in this club and have helped members with learning Python and HTML, since our school’s curriculum is only based on Java.
   
5. Personal Computer Science Projects - Just a couple of projects that I made in the past few years that have helped me improve my understanding of coding. My school only offers Java, so these projects were incredibly helpful when it came to understanding R, Python, and JavaScript. My favorite project is a volunteer log tool that breaks down my total hours based on the number of hours that I have volunteered at my local food packing facility and how many boxes each table can pack. Using this information, I can derive how many boxes I have personally helped make and how many children I have fed through my contributions.
   
6. Created a review guide for AP Physics 1 that compiled the most important formulas and concepts from our lessons and resources. I also compiled an entire mock exam’s worth of MCQ and FRQ questions to test the hardest questions from each unit. On exam day, there were 54 people on the doc, so there were at least 50 people I impacted with this. I have also recently started a tutoring service for people who are struggling with physics and people who are taking Physics in the future (doing it on Saturday and Sunday every week).
   
7. Volunteering at a local food packing facility for ~105 hours. Volunteered at every position including pourer, bagger, weigher, and warehouse crew.
   
8. Volunteering at NHS organized events for 15 hours.
   
9. Completed Harvard’s CS50 course back in sophomore year (my website stated above evolved from my final project for CS50, which was a flight board on command prompt lol)
   
10. Part of the National Science Honors Society and Cybersecurity club at my school.
    

Awards (I am cooked 😔):

1. National Merit Commended (probably gonna get this)
   
2. PVSA silver award
   
3. Computer Science UIL awards
   
4. AP Scholar (probably with distinciton in july)
   

LOR: AP Calc - 8 (maybe 9) /10, did really well in her class and asked a lot of questions. she was also impressed by my resume, but I didn't talk to her a lot personally. I've heard that she writes good rec letters tho. AP Physics - 7/10
Schools:
Reach : UT Austin (Statistics / Data Science), UMich (CS lsa), UC Berkeley (Applied Math, my dream school), UCLA (Stats/Data Science), Purdue (CS or AI major), UIUC (Computer Engineering or CS + Stats), UCSD (data science or Math-CS), UCI (CS), UCSB (CE), UW Madison (CS), Georgia Tech (CS, doing this one for fun lol), USC
Target: Texas A&M Engineering (attainable dream school), UT Dallas (CS), Colorado Boulder (CS), UMD College Park (CS), Penn State (CS), NCSU (CS)
Safety (if I get into UTD rolling then i wont apply here): UNT, Texas Tech, ASU
Notes: I want to settle in the bay area after going to college, and want to become a data scientist (seems more interesting to me than becoming a swe, my opinion might change) at a well-respected company, preferably in the aerospace industry since I've had an interest in aviation since my childhood. I might also do grad school.
Thoughts?

Hey Reddit,
I’m an ISFJ, and I’ve been around a few INTJs, and let me tell you, they’re a unique bunch! One thing that always stands out is how confident and self-assured they are, almost to the point of being a bit arrogant.
One of the funniest (and sometimes frustrating) things is how they always seem to know everything, especially when it comes to academics. I remember an INTJ friend who did a computing class presentation and chose to focus on something totally out there. They didn’t even seem to revise much and still managed to ace it. Meanwhile, I’m over here studying like crazy to keep up.
They also have this obsession with the novel Dune. Seriously, every conversation somehow circles back to it, and they analyze it to death. Don't get me wrong, it's a great book, but come on! On top of that, they’re such perfectionists. Every detail has to be just right, which can be both impressive and a little exhausting.
It’s interesting because while they can be a bit overwhelming with their certainty, they also bring a lot of depth and new perspectives to conversations. It’s a mixed bag of admiration and occasional annoyance.
Any other ISFJs out there who have INTJ friends or partners? How do you deal with their confidence, perfectionism, and endless Dune references? I’d love to hear your stories and how you navigate these differences!

My partner’s reaction when he is mad lately has been a lot - nonstop yelling, not letting me say anything to help him understand to defuse, insensitive, lacks empathy, calls me names, and more recently have been throwing things at me (small items but hard enough to hurt). We share a home together and he tells me I often trigger it because of my tone when I talk. I rarely yell and he will still say I was yelling too. He recently kicked my work bag with my work laptop in it. This was when I started getting angry because during this entire tantrum he was having, I was ignoring him and trying to get myself space away from him. I made a poor decision out of anger and retaliated by throwing his work computer in the oven (not on). It ended up damaging his work computer while mine was fine, now I have my “consequences.” I’m curious to know what you guys do to remain calm and steer clear out of a raging partner’s way. Pettiness and ideas of retaliation often clouds my mind when I am trying to regulate, and then I see it through when instances like that happens.

This is for the guy trying to say not to give money to homeless people flying a sign. This my personal experience from being homeless in Wilmington. I can't say as I speak for everyone, just my experience. 

I'm still homeless, but I've moved out of Wilmington. I had to teach myself how to read and write all over again, and this is what I do now. I hope you enjoy.

 Six-thirty am, I woke up to my alarm. I had to be at work at nine, and I didn't want to be frazzled from being in panic mode on my first day, hurried, and hassled. No, sir. You don't get too many chances to make a first impression. 

 Rolled out of my sleeping bag with a smooth, well practiced motion, unzipped the flap, and made my way out into brisk spring morning air, taking a brief pause, taking in the natural beuaty of the forest. If it hadn't been for the sounds of the highway a few hundred yards away, this scene could have been from a camping trip or hike that I remembered from days gone by. I didn't pause to think about too long due to the urgency to find a suitable tree to relieve myself. Fifty feet, at least. Fifty feet. Otherwise, that smell could come back to haunt you. This wasn't a camping trip but rather where I lived. My homestead, abode, residence, shelter, and as far as I could tell, it would be for a long time to come. 

 I decided to drink my energy drink, which had come to replace my morning cup of brew, outside this fine morn, so I made my way back to the tent and pulled my Monster can and my half full box of handrolled cigarettes from their hiding places, turned around and walked the fifteen feet to my "visiting bench". Aptly named because that's where we all sat when someone came visiting, which wasn't very often, a few feet in front was the small firepit. A hundred or so yards beyond, down a respectable hill, sat Frankies tent, another fifty yards at the split in the trail was Chris's small pup tent, where a small pile of trash meant that Chris and I needed to talk. This was my site, and I had few rules, and trash was something I didn't want to see. 

 According to the rules out here, our social contract, the first person at a campsite was in charge and I had spent the last month of winter all alone here to earn the right to call the shots. After all, it was deemed The Allen Compound for the Criminally Insane by my friend who led a real boots on the ground street outreach in town, someone that I had insane respect for and not a small bit of love. We weren't. I won't speak to insane. 

 I took a seat on the bench, popped the top on the Monster, lit up a smoke, and took a big long pull of the drink. Spring was starting to show now, and the highway was slowly starting to hide behind the new growth of forest. My tent was already invisible from the road thanks to a large camouflaged tarp that I had strung to block the view once I recovered from the panic attack following the discovery of how visible it once was. That discovery came not long after I set up camp, as I was returning from town. Walking down the shoulder of the highway, I just happened to look up in the direction of my camp and saw that my tent sat in the middle of a big clearing of branches, making a perfect frame for my work of art. The realization that thousands of people could have seen that on a daily basis. I was live bait for any psychotic person or persons to visit on a full moon. Recalling the stories of people setting sleeping people on fire for the fun of watching a human cook, I instantly turned on my heels and headed back into town, a spy who just realized he'd been compromised. I didn't return until I had a tarp, but even then, it was some time before sleep came easy. 

 Seven am and the spring sun were now spreading its rays of love to its children in the forest undergrowth, letting everything know it was day shift now in the kingdom. Down below, I spied Frankie, who piled out of his tent and sprinted to a tree like his bladder had caught fire. At the sight of this, I barked three times in greeting. He threw his head back and made a rooster crow, knowing it would wake Chris up long enough to feel the urgency. And by the time I stood up finish the last bit of my morning nectar, sure enough, scrambled out of his tent and instantly let it go right beside where his head would lay when he slept. I shook my head and trudged to my place to change clothes. A light blue polo type short sleeve tucked neatly into my cleanest pair of jeans, then a long sleeve light flannel over that as a precaution, because a lesson learned early is that you dressed for all day. There was no going home to get a coat when the temps plummeted, so it was wise to have that coat ready at all times. I changed my socks, put on my shoes and out of the flap I went. I closed it up and placed a pine needle inside the zipper that would let me know when I got back if anyone had violated my space. 

Seven ten am, and I was on my way. I had fourty minutes to be at the bus stop a little over a mile from the camp and I didn't want to be late, so off I went down the trail, just past Frankies tent I took a left, pausing just long enough to notice that Chris had gone back to bed and left his flap door open, then another fifty yard and over the fence to what I referred to as the 'exposed zone'. There, I was out of the woods walking down a small trail hidden only from the waist down by overgrown weeds and grass. The exposed zone went about a hundred and fifty yards to the shoulder of the highway, where I would merge left, facing the oncoming traffic. At that point, it wouldn't be so obvious to passing cars that I had just emerged from the woods, and the exact spot would no doubt be a mystery. There, my pace stepped up to an average of four miles an hour, something that I had clocked many times, and these days, it was a knowledge that came in handy. I could deal with being homeless, but not tardy. Every minute I walked along the shoulder of the highway, I was fraught with danger, at least in my overactive brain. I could envision cars swerving to miss the car ahead and turning me into a hood ornament, or blowing a tire and taking me out when the driver loses control for that half a second. Maybe something would fall out of the many dump trucks that passed frequently at seventy miles an hour and cleanly decapitate me before I even saw it coming. Why not? It's not like I was having a good luck streak, let's be honest. 

Seven fifty am and I managed to make it to the bus stop with all my organs just where they should be and my head still attached to my body. I lit up a smoke and fished three quarters out of my pocket, ready to pay my way and go to work. The bus pulled up on time, and I climbed aboard, nodding to the driver in solidarity, one working man to the other, dropped my coins of passage into the box, turned and found an empty seat by the window. I watched as the scenery went from historical homes with their gates and carefully tended lawns to the brown crabgrass and dirt yards where the children played in poverty, then to the blocks of businesses where hopes and dreams were born and died, with their big banners proclaiming another last chance at big savings, or let you know that for the twentieth time this furniture store was going out of business and these prices wouldn't last. Nothing but a higher class of a carnival barker. Free financing, limited time only, no interest for ninety days, credit same as cash, act now, last chance to save, overstocked and marked down, employee pricing, never before savings, trade ins welcome, don't miss out, and my all time favorite, below wholesale. Imagine that a business surviving by losing money. The saddest part of it all is that these tactics worked on people. For the second time that morning, I shook my head. 

Eight thirty eight am and the doors open at my destination, my job site, half the bus stood up to depart. Standing up and slipping No. 7 onto my shoulders, I let the line shuffle past me with the knowledge that I had time to spare 

 Eight forty, I stepped off the bus, gravitating to have a smoke with a small group of like-minded people who nodded their approval as I approached. The signal that I was accepted in the circle of debauchery. I made it clear, though, that I had no time to make small talk because I had to go to work and I was a responsible person. On time, it was late, and ten minutes early was on time. That was my motto, starting now, at least. Eight fourty five am I started to the job site, feeling the anxiety butterflies come to life in the pit of my stomach. I had never done this sort of work before, and I hoped I would catch on quick. 

 Eight fifty am, and I was standing beside the exit lane of the Walmart Superstore on a patch of grass where the stopsign was planted, dropping No. 7 to the earth. I bent over and unzipped the section that contained the piece of cardboard. As I put my fingers on it, I felt emotions pour over me, a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and determination. This was my third try at this, but I was determined not to chicken out this time, so, choking everything back down I pulled the sign from my bag and turned to face the cars coming up to the stop sign so I could show them the story of my life, condensed down to some scribbles from a Sharpie which read, 'Traumatic Brain Injury' in large lettering, with a smaller, 'Please Help' below. I'd never felt so alone as I did in that spot light that day at Walmart, that my life had led me to this point, here with a sign begging for money from strangers to get things I needed. It seemed like I couldn't even breathe with my phone service cut off, as I still felt sure that my son would call me at any minute to see how I was, and knowing that life line was severed was unbearable. 

 A grey van with a logo pulled up to the stop sign and I heard one of the doors open, then close, so I turned around to see someone jogging up to me, holding out his hand with a twenty dollar bill pinched in his fingers, "Here you go, brother. Take care of yourself, my man, "then back to the van and was gone. 

I broke. Just like that. I broke.

Im glad y'all liked the last chapter. I'm going to continue this story and see where it goes. As usual, if you like this then make sure to like and comment: I really value your feedback. I'm also thinking of going back and editing some things, as I thought of some cool ideas that might make the story more interesting, mainly some Meta ideas to increase the depth of this litRPG. So make sure to go back and read the last chapter in a bit: some things may be different.
First
I gripped the rough leather hilt of my new sword tightly as I walked down the newly lit hall within this strange labyrinth. The air was dank and musty, and cobwebs hung from every corner. The dented blade glowed in the firelight, as did the breastplate, and I was just starting to warm up.
I didn't like this place: it made me feel uneasy. The loneliness was also crushing, but for some reason I was used to it. The weight of all my gear was also heavy, with all the weapons and rations causing my shoulders to ache, but I pressed forward. Something inside me insisted that this was familiar, and if I could do it before then I could do it now.
At first, the hall seemed unending, but after what felt like hours I finally reached a large, open room with a humble wooden throne in the center. The edges of the vaulted ceilings held great tapestries that had faded over time, the once magnificent artistry lost forever. Candelabras, urns, and braziers all forged from bronze and inlaid with different gems and precious metals were strewn about, and there was a gigantic bronze brazier at the center of the room, just in front of the throne.
On the throne sat a withered corpse wearing a crown of twisted branches, as well as rusted armor that had fused with flesh long ago. Simple wooden coffins lined the walls, six in total, each likely containing another corpse.
Then I noticed the brazier in the middle: it had long gone cold, the coals dead and waiting to be given life again by flame. But what worried me more was the burnt remains of the skeleton in the center: it was a reptilian thing, tall and robust judging by the size of the femurs, and it gripped a sword much like mine…
Okay, I didn't like this place at all, not one bit. Whoever was here before me obviously met some horrible fate, maybe even burnt alive within the brazier, which was a fate I had no desire to experience.
Next to the throne was a chest, and anyone with common sense knew that opening the chest would probably be a bad idea. So I looked for something far more valuable: an exit. At the far end of the room we're a pair of double doors made from polished slate, and soni approached them. I ran my scaly hands across it and admiring the beautiful masonwork: engraved with elegant images of all sorts of events, such as men slaying giants, terrifying dragons burning down villages, great treasures hidden away, and a large mead hall with a boat as it's roof nestled on a hill, it was something out of legend. But that didn't matter, I just needed them to open so I could leave. They didn't budge from me pushing them, nor did they possess any handles or bars, so something else has to activate them.
I decided to see if I could get some answers out of the magic note turned journal. I pulled it out and began writing with the quill, the tip seemingly possessing an endless supply of ink. How do I open the doors?
Once again, my good hand began moving if it had a mind of its own, scribbling out a minimalist sentence that would probably be of no use to me. Open the chest.
I grumbled and wrote down another response. Will bad things happen if I open the chest?
More furious scribbling against my will. Bad things will happen either way.
Well, that was reassuring.
What will happen when I open the chest?
Bad things. I wanted to punt the book across the room. I just stuffed it back into my bag and growled again, the depth of my reptilian voice startling me. I was sure I wasn't supposed to sound like that, but I did. Maybe I was just overthinking this, and it was just a side effect of some kind of amnesia, but I really felt like I was in the wrong body.
I turned back to the throne and the chest next to it. It was a simple wooden thing with no lock, so it wouldn't be challenging to open at all. I walked towards it, sword in hand, anxiety shooting through me like electricity, and as I bent down to open it up I couldn't help but look behind me as I did so.
Then, with one simple motion, I opened it. There was more than I expected, but still not much, just a small pile of rough gold coins and a few assorted gems. I dipped my hand into the gold and pulled out a handful, the coins each easily the width of a golf ball and decently hefty too. Then I looked for a place to put them: if I was going to be put in danger for opening this damn chest, then I was going to get something out of it.
As I stuffed the gold into my pack, I heard creaking next to me, and I instinctively dropped my pack onto the ground and kicked it to the side before rolling away. The withered corpse lifted itself up from the wooden throne, a faint hissing escaping its lips as if its vocal chords no longer worked. Then it turned to me, eyes glowing red with hatred and jaw clenched. It balled its fists and deeper its hateful gaze before pointing at me and unleashing an ear-splitting hiss like that of copper pipes coming apart. I lifted up my longsword and held it in a defensive stance, backing away slowly as my ears rang. Then I felt a bony hand on my shoulder.
I spun around and swung the blade, vivisecting another corpse halfway. All the other coffins were bursting open, and the angered dead were hobbling out, some holding rusted and chipped weapons, others simply meandering towards me with the same hatred in their eyes as the first. I was surrounded.
I swung my sword and cut one’s head off, the otherwise dry and leathery flesh of its neck giving way to my old longsword. Then I sliced through the knee of another, sending it sprawling to the ground before I stomped its head into pieces. That left four, including the one on the throne. That one stood back, glaring at me and waving its hands as if conducting an orchestra, its armored robes flowing despite the lack of ventilation. It must be the one controlling the undead.
I matched forward, sword lifted again and swung at the leader of the undead. It blocked the strike with its armored bracer and swiped at me, bony hands scraping against my breastplate but also imbuing me with an overwhelming weakness to the touch, as if I hadn't slept for days. With a grunt, I kicked him back and onto the floor, but the rest of the dead seemed to fall into a frenzy, charging at me as if they were rabid ghouls. I needed to end this, and I needed to end it now.
I impaled the first undead and kicked him off alongside their ringleader, then slammed the pommel of by sword into the forehead of the next with a spiteful roar that seemed to charge the air with static, crushing the undead’s skull inward and releasing the energy trapped within as if crumbled to the floor. The third swiped at my arm, causing an intense cold to run through me and a horrible pain to erupt from the deceptively small laceration, as if maggots were chewing on my flesh. I roared again and swung diagonally, vivisecting the decrepit thing all at once.
That left the composer. It stood back up and seemed even angrier than before, as if it had actually cared for those skeletons. Then I heard a voice behind its bestial whispers, a voice that almost sounded… pained. “Hadvar, Børge, Aegilief, Gunhild, Halfdan, Ivar! Do not fall, not to this dragon’s bastard!” It seemed to exclaim, but its cries seemed to fall on deaf ears as the corpses were no more, what remained of the flesh disintegrating into nothing more than ash, leaving only dirty bones behind.
“You shouldn't have attacked me.” I said behind grit fangs, my body still recovering from the effects of their icy touch. But no matter how much I tried to justify it to myself, it always felt like a weak response: I was probably plundering some poor guy's tomb, and then proceeded to kill all his friends to boot. I was in the wrong here, but I wasn't just going to be trapped in this shit hole of a tomb forever.
Then I looked at the brazier, which was now lit and burning, the otherwise bleached white bones of the reptile thing within coated in fresh soot. They would've killed me, or I would've starved. And they were already dead, anyway: for all I knew the undead here were held together by nothing more than old memories and whatever terrible magic possessed this place. I wasn't going to die yet, I at least wanted to see the sun one last time.
“Sorry about you and your friends, but I'm not going to die here today,” I said, trying to seem apologetic, “I've only got one shot, or so I've been told.” I matched forward again, unwavering, and busted him in the head with my pommel before slicing off his arm at the joint when he tried to reach out for me again, hissing with anger. Then, as I bullied him backwards to put some length between us, I finally kicked him one last time and jammed the end of my sword into his empty eye socket, sending the blade through his rotting head and out the back. He let out one last hiss before going limp, whatever magical nonsense holding him together dissipating as his body crumpled and his bones unknitted themselves.
I dropped the sword with a grunt and sank to my knees. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and my stomach was churning. The horrible sickness the undead gave me when it swiped at me seemed to be winding down, the pain in my arm dull and more distracting than painful, but the unbearable cold and discomfort was still coursing through me. I needed to get out of this wretched place. This was a tomb, right? Maybe that door led to some kind of exit to the outdoors, or at least a pathway to it.
I forced myself back up on my feet, retrieved my bag and filled it with the rest of the treasure from the chest, and strapped everything on my back once again. I would probably want to find some kind of civilization, maybe a place where this gold would hold some value, because then maybe I could use it to find some answers.
Behind me, the doors began to crumble with a glowing purple light, as if the magic that has sealed it had been broken with the death of the undead on the throne, and I could see some semblance of light. I rushed towards it, only to find myself in an even colder area than before. The air was frigid and filled with a thick, looking fog that seemed to sap the strength out of me. It felt like an early spring morning, when it would go just above freezing and the rain had come in droves overnight, leaving behind the mist. Spruces, pines and other evergreen trees towered around me, and the forest floor was coated in thick roots, mossy rocks, vines, and dead evergreen needles. A dirt path that had long been overtaken by the forest stretched away from the tomb I had emerged from, leading me away from this place.

I sit alone in my room on the seventh floor, writing what will surely be my last will and testament. The heroin which allowed me to forget and to sleep for the last couple of years has lost its power to keep the screaming terrors away. The drug destroyed my body and mind, gradually eating away at them like a corrosive acid. Now I have become a slave to it. And yet, without it, I do not sleep for weeks, but instead continuously see the scenes from that terrible night running through my head on repeat as worsening waves of madness crash on the shores of my consciousness.
In the caverns under the town of Frost Hollow, I found the meaning of true madness. Ever since I escaped that den of horrors, it is difficult to tell what is real and what is only the feverish delirium of an unhinged mind.
Even now, they wait behind the door to this cheap, bare rented room. They drag their claws over the wood. I hear them hissing in that strange, ancient tongue, the one I first heard in the tombs of rock that had been undisturbed for countless millennia.
***
I had first heard rumors of an unexplored cavern from my friend, an experienced caver named Sonia who had explored caverns all over the world. I had been looking for some excitement in my life, some break from the constant monotony and boredom of simply working and sleeping. I had gone caving quite a few times over the year leading up to the trip, but I was not nearly as experienced and had never explored a supposedly virgin passageway of cavern before.
“How do you know no one’s gone down there?” I asked, curious. We sat across from each other at a local diner, getting some early breakfast before our planned descent. The sunrise was still another half-hour away, the sky flat and dark. We would be joined by Sonia’s husband, Phil, who would meet us there shortly after sunrise. I repressed an urge to yawn, chugging half of the steaming hot coffee in one long swallow. Sonia leaned close to me, her nearly colorless blue eyes reminding me of chunks of ice floating down a muddy stream.
“Phil’s friend just found it randomly,” she whispered before glancing around conspiratorially, as if she feared someone would care enough to eavesdrop on a conversation about a cave. “Well, it’s in the middle of a farm, and Phil’s friend, Jack Graysole, owns the entire property and surrounding woods. Jack says he noticed the cows kept going over to a certain spot in the field when it got really hot during the summertime. They would all gather around this little indentation in the grass. After seeing it a few times, Jack got curious and went to investigate what the cows were doing.
“He found a small hole in the ground, almost entirely covered by weeds and grass. He said he felt a cool breeze constantly blowing out of the hole, a breeze that smelled like burning matches and charred metal. After bringing out some shovels and digging down a couple feet, Jack realized that the hole wasn’t a hole at all, but the beginning of a steep passageway leading deep into the bowels of the earth.”
***
The owner of the land decided to unofficially call the newly-discovered cavern Graysole Caverns. Out of respect for him, this is also the name we all used. This is the story of how I found myself in the bowels of a strange subterranean tunnel, a tunnel where creatures beyond my comprehension slunk and hunted, skittering monstrosities who would be more at home in a nightmare.
After grabbing a couple coffees to take with us, Sonia drove over to Graysole Farms. Cows stood out in the grassy fields, huddled in tight circles as they repetitively chewed. The thin silhouette of Jack Graysole waited for us next to the herd. He had a face like a raisin, I thought to myself. I watched his thin, shaking body standing in the middle of an overgrown grassy field. Jack stared down blankly at something only he could see. Sonia and I started unloading some equipment from the car while we waited for Phil.
Once we had the backpacks loaded with some simple supplies, such as water, food, headlamps, rope, a couple extra batteries, some buck knives, and radios, we headed over to accompany Jack. We weren’t taking much, as we didn’t really expect to be down there for more than six or seven hours at the most.
Jack Graysole’s withered old face was as slack and expressionless as that of a corpse. He stared down at the ground as if he were in a trance, waving back and forth slowly on his feet like a plant in a light breeze.
“Jack?” Sonia called out as we approached. I could hear the man’s teeth chattering as we got nearer.
“Hey, what are you doing over here this early? You interested in accompanying us down there?” Sonia joked. But Jack might as well have been totally deaf for all the reaction he gave. Sonia glanced over at me with an anxious expression. I wondered if the old man was having a stroke.
I quickly walked over to where he stood, staring down at a black circular hole about three feet across directly in front of his feet. The entrance to Graysole Caverns stared up at us like a sightless pupil. As I drew within a few feet of Jack and looked straight into his blank eyes, I noticed something alarming.
His pupils were quickly dilating and constricting before my eyes. They would shrink to tiny pinpoints, then, a couple seconds later, rapidly expand until they became dark and serious. I could see his thready, rapid heartbeat pulsating in a vein on the side of his temple. Alarmed, I reached forward and put my hand on his shoulder.
Instantly, he came to life, like a man waking up from a nightmare. Shrieking, he looked at me with fully dilated pupils, reminding me of a panicked deer surrounded by wolves. His quavering old man’s voice shook with ineffable existential horror and mortal fear.
He took a step back away from us, seeming to realize where he was and what he was doing. He looked around, confused, then straight at me and Sonia. His eyes focused with anger and fear, as if we were demons here to drag him down to Hell. His eyes flicked back and forth between us constantly. Jack raised a trembling hand and pointed it straight at my heart.
“It’s you,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. His teeth chattered despite the warm spring air. His skin looked deathly pale. “You’re the one who will bring an end to humanity, who will release the ruler of nightmares upon us.” He continued to point accusingly for a long moment at me, his face turning chalk-white. Then his eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, he stumbled and fell backwards onto the soft grass of the field.
“Jack!” Sonia cried, running over to the old man. Jack’s breaths had started to come in slow, drawn-out gurgles, like a man with a slit throat trying to breathe. Frothy blood bubbled from his lips as they turned blue. Staring up at the endless expanse of cloudless sky, he exhaled one last shuddering breath and died.
***
Phil showed up only a couple minutes later. He found me and Sonia in a state of utter panic, both of us bent double over the still body of Jack. Sonia was on the phone with 911, and I was trying to give Jack chest compressions. The way his fingernails and lips shone with that cyanotic blue cast made me feel sick and weak. I knew it was futile, that I was simply playing with a corpse at this point, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt if I didn’t do something, I might explode.
I heard the faint wailing of sirens approaching as Sonia’s panicked voice continued babbling to the 911 operator. Phil stood by her side, his tall, dark features searching and lost.
“Oh God, I think he’s dead!” Sonia cried over and over to the operator, as if she thought the operator could do anything about it. I didn’t hear what the operator said in response. As the ambulance pulled in, I gave up on chest compressions. I stood up and took a step back, looking sadly down on the kindly old man’s dead body.
The paramedics ran over. Phil, Sonia and I stood back while they worked on the corpse, trying to shock the heart back into life. But Jack’s open eyes stayed glazed as they stared sightlessly up into eternity.
***
The paramedics left. A couple police officers stayed behind to ask us a few routine questions. Eventually, after an hour or so, they left, too.
“What a fucked-up day,” Phil said, shaking his head grimly. “Do you guys still want to do this? Maybe it’s an omen from God telling us to go home.” Sonia and I exchanged a glance, then we both nodded at the same time.
“Definitely,” she said. “It’s sad what happened to Jack, but realistically, we don’t know what’s going to happen to this property now that he’s passed away. It might get sold or taken by the bank for all we know. This could be our one and only chance to explore this cave.”
“I don’t believe in omens. I’m still down,” I said, feeling slightly sick from the experience. I still remembered how Jack’s body had cracked under the weight of my chest compressions, how his ribs had snapped like bones shattering in greedy hands. “We’ll do it in memory of Jack. I plan to put this up on YouTube.” I pulled my GoPro out of my bag, turning it on. Phil groaned at that.
“Do we have any idea how far down this cave goes?” Phil asked. I felt a sense of relief now that the topic had changed from the death of the old man.
“I sent a little camera down on a rope, but it only went about a hundred feet,” Sonia responded. “It’s pretty steep at first, then it levels out. I couldn’t really see much after it leveled out, but it looks like it should be easy to climb down. There’s plenty of handholds, lots of jutting rocks.”
Phil put on his headlamp and small pack. As he crawled down into the hole, his tanned face looked up at us and gave us one last devilish grin. Once he had gone down a few dozen feet, Sonia started descending. She looked excited and happy. I noticed how she couldn’t stop smiling as she disappeared from view.
I watched their lights grow smaller and dimmer in the circular tunnel. I marveled at how perfectly circular the entrance was. It almost didn’t even look natural.
Taking a deep breath in, I followed my friends down into the dark.
***
“This isn’t too bad,” I said as I climbed down. The jutting rocks gave plenty of handholds and footholds for us. It wasn’t so tight that it felt like a coffin, either.
“It only gets easier from here!” Sonia called up.
“How do you know?” I asked. “You said you’ve never been here before.” She laughed.
“I know. Probably just wishful thinking,” she said. Far below us, Jack’s voice drifted up, faint and weak. He had already reached the bottom.
“The tunnel really opens up down here, guys,” he called. “It’s somewhat… bizarre, though.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sonia asked. I looked down, seeing Sonia and I would reach the bottom in seconds. “Forget it, I’ll let it be a surprise.” I heard her drop down. Slowly and carefully, I lowered myself down the last few feet. There was a short fall onto a smooth granite floor. I looked up, seeing what Phil and Sonia were so mesmerized by.
“Oh, wow,” I said, speechless. I blinked rapidly, wondering if the image would clear like a mirage. The tunnel was cut into a perfectly triangular shape, each side about seven feet long. The ceiling met in a point above our heads.
All along the smooth walls of gray rock, I saw thousands of black orbs peeking out. They looked similar to obsidian, but they were perfectly smooth and circular, each about the size of an orange. They were formed into interlocking diagonal patterns and followed the tunnel straight down as far as the eye could see.
“What is this place?” Sonia asked, taking a tentative step forward. I looked up, seeing the distant pinpoint of sunlight far above our heads. Our voices continued to echo off down the massive tunnels, disappearing in eerie waves into the thick curtain of shadows.
“Are you recording all this?” Phil asked me. I laughed, giddy.
“Of course! This is internet gold right here,” I said. “No one’s going to believe that this isn’t man-made, however. I can’t even believe it. Do you think Jack was playing a joke on us or something?”
“Jack had the sense of humor of a wet paper towel,” Phil whispered, shaking his head. “No, he wouldn’t do something like this.”
“Well, let’s go check it out,” Sonia said, taking a step forward. Her headlamp bobbed up and down rapidly, throwing dancing shadows through the triangular tunnel. It continued straight ahead, without the slightest deviation or curve, disappearing off into a dark point in the distance.
***
We walked as fast as we could, excited to see where, if anywhere, the strange tunnel led. Phil, always the conspiracy theorist, babbled excitedly.
“This has to be aliens, man,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I bet that scientists will find out this shit is millions of years old when we get back up and tell everyone. Maybe aliens came to earth in ancient times and made a bunch of stuff underground.” Gradually, as we walked, I noticed the tunnel opening up. The pointed triangular ceiling rose up higher above our heads and the walls moved outwards, as we were walking up a triangular funnel. At first, it was so subtle that I didn’t believe it when Sonia pointed it out.
“No, look,” she said, raising her hand above her head. “When we first started down this weird tunnel, my fingers were only maybe a foot away from the top. Now it’s a couple feet.” I was about to respond when our headlamps illuminated something standing in the middle of the tunnel.
“What the fuck is that?” I whispered, stopping cold in my tracks. Phil and Sonia looked up at the abomination at the same time. Its back was to us. It stood nearly as tall as the tunnel, which was now about twenty feet high.
The bottom half looked black and spidery with dozens of long, jointed legs. A bloody, white spine rose out of the mass of legs. Inhumanly long, skeletal arms stretched out in front of it. Its face was pointed away from us, but the back of its head resembled an enormous pointed skull with deep fissures like the cracks of an earthquake running through the bone. The abomination stayed as still as a statue, and for a long moment, I wondered if we were looking at some macabre work of art.
Then, suddenly, one of its insectile legs twitched. A moment later, the other legs started jerking and twisting. There was a sound like bones shattering as it rose up to its full height, turning around to face us.
Its face was like something from a nightmare, melting and reforming constantly like dripping candle wax. I would see a black eye appear on its forehead, then a grinning mouth on its chin, then the features would get sucked back into the folds of melting flesh. After a few moments, two enormous eyes appeared on its face, dark and cold like craters on the surface of the Moon. The mouths and noses disappeared back into the dripping skin, and only the two lidless eyes remained, emanating a cold, reptilian consciousness beyond the ability of my mind to comprehend. I felt terror radiating from its body like freezing waves.
“Free me,” it cried in a gurgling voice that seethed with insanity. It had a shrieking, metallic ringing behind every word that gave it an alien quality. “Free me, and I will give you the waters of eternal life. Within me, I contain the seeds of immortality. Within the nightmares, we live forever, always together, never alone.”
“Who are you?” I asked, terrified. The black reptilian skin of the enormous beast glistened as it knelt down, its massive face drawing near to mine. A sideways mouth burst out of the liquified flesh, showing hundreds of fangs growing like tumors from its white, bloodless gums. The fangs varied in size from only a couple inches to long, sword-like projections that stabbed into the creature’s flesh, causing white blood glittering with rainbows to fall like raindrops all around me.
“I have many names,” it hissed, its thousand voices rising and falling in crashing waves of sound. “I was present at the beginning, when this planet was no more than dead cliffs and endless freezing oceans. Those holy ones who search for us, the ancient ones, call me Niralahoth.”
“How do we free you?” Phil asked, looking terrified. He held Sonia’s hand tightly.
“By letting me into your mind and body,” Niralahoth cried, shaking the cavern. “I was thrown down here, cursed and forgotten. I cannot leave this place of shadows within this body. But in the body of another, my consciousness can be free, and the seeds of new life can spread beyond this prison.”
“There’s no way anyone’s going to do that,” I said, my eyes widening as Niralahoth’s reptilian skull turned towards me in fury. “I mean, you’re asking one of us to give up our individuality, our lives, right?”
“I am asking you to become one with me and gain power undreamt of by mortals,” it cried. “I have within me the fountain of life, the waters that send death away screaming.” I glanced anxiously at Phil and Sonia, wondering if we would have to run.
“The answer is no,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we can’t do that,” Phil said, backing me up. “But, anyways, I think our trip has ended. It’s time to turn around…”
“You will never return,” Niralahoth cried, skittering away from us. “If you will not accept salvation, then you must accept death.” Within seconds, it slunk away from us, backpedaling on its many skittering legs into the shadows.
***
All around us, a rumbling started.
There was a pounding that crashed through the rock tunnel, as if an insane blacksmith were hammering on a massive anvil. The ringing of crashing rock started off slowly, with a few stones smashing down around us with heavy blasts of sound. Within seconds, the cacophony sped up, rising into a constant stream of destruction. The black orbs were spinning in place all up and down the tunnel, their glossy obsidian surfaces flashing with sparks of blue light.
“It’s collapsing!” Phil cried, running back in the direction we came, holding Sonia’s hand as she tried to keep up with him. I could only stare for a long moment, not sure what to do. It seemed that the direction Phil was heading stood closer to total collapse.
“Wait!” I cried, but my voice was drowned out in the destruction all around us. I felt a rock smash into my shoulder, sending me down to my feet. I heard Phil give a scream of pain, then another stone came down and smashed into my forehead. I remember seeing everything spinning around me as the world went black.
***
I awoke to find my headlamp still shining straight up in the dusty tunnel. Large chunks of the tunnel had slid out of place and crashed to the stone floor. The granite chunks that had fallen looked unnaturally smooth, most of them in the shapes of cylinders or cubes and varying in size from that of an egg to that of a small car.
My head throbbed. It felt as if a tight belt of fire were wrapped around my temples. Groaning, I put my fingers up to my forehead. They came away slick with blood.
Slowly, I started pushing myself up on my feet. I was relieved that nothing seemed broken. I had a deep gash running from the center of my scalp down to my left temple and some shallower cuts on my shoulders and back, but I knew none of that was life-threatening.
“Sonia?” I whispered, my voice coming out weak and strained. I reached into my pack and found a bottle of water. I chugged it quickly in one long swallow.
“Phil?” I cried again, this time stronger. I heard a soft weeping nearby. Staggering, I followed the sound.
Sonia was bloody and covered in cuts and scrapes, sitting next to Phil’s prone form. I saw Phil’s right arm pinned under a massive slab of granite. His arm disappeared from the elbow down in a spreading puddle of thick, dark blood.
“Oh God, Max, I think he’s hurt really bad,” she wept. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly in his head, his face pale and bloodless. I looked down the way we had come, seeing the entire tunnel blocked by large slabs of stone, many with strange, black orbs peeking out like the lenses of cameras.
***
I don’t know how much time passed. My phone died after a day, and then we were counting the endless darkness in breaths and tears.
Phil swam in and out of consciousness as his arm putrefied and blackened around the crush site. After a couple days, Sonia and I agreed that something had to be done. We told Phil we would need to amputate his arm. He was half-delirious, but he came back long enough to understand us and nod weakly.
We made a fire with Phil’s pack, trying to find fuel to throw in it to get it roaring. As it grew, I saw one of the black orbs near the flames abruptly ignite, as if it had been covered in gasoline. Blue, almost colorless flames rose from its surface. We started throwing the small black orbs on the fire until it rose high in the air. I sanitized the buck knife with the flames and pulled a rope tourniquet tight around Phil’s arm. He was conscious but seemingly insane, talking to himself more than anyone else.
“How are we going to get the car started without a key?” he gurgled to someone only he could see. “We need to look around. It has to be here somewhere.”
“Phil, can you hear me, bud? We need to fix your arm. We need to get you out of this mess. OK?” I said as comfortingly as I could. Phil’s eyes rolled wildly, but they didn’t meet my own. I sighed and looked over at Sonia.
“Let’s do it,” I said, giving a grim nod.
I pulled the buck knife out, slicing quickly down through the flesh next to the tourniquet. His veins throbbed like fat worms as the blackened, necrotic skin split easily under the blade, releasing a rancid-smelling gas that hissed out of the wound.
I couldn’t believe how hard it was to slice all the way through the arm. It felt like I was stuck in that hellish task forever. Phil’s eyes rolled in his head as his skin turned the color of clotted milk.
“God, Jesus, make it stop,” Phil whispered over and over, exhaling ragged, pain-filled breaths. The blood spurted from the blackened, dying tissue all over the dust-covered cavern floor, covering my hands in its warm, slick embrace.
After what was probably only three or four minutes, but felt like hours, I had sliced all the way down to the bone. The infected tissue of his arm spurted great gouts of orange pus mixed with rivulets of blood. The hard part was over.
Standing up, I took my steel-toe sneaker and stomped down on his arm as hard as I could. Phil cried out in a powerful voice, as if all the agony and suffering in the world was contained in that one shriek. The bone snapped under my weight with a sound like a tree branch cracking. A moment later, Phil rolled away from the rock that had pinned me in place for so long. Something alien and spongy was shoved into my face, a mass of destroyed red tissue pulsating in time with a runaway heartbeat. At first, shell-shocked and revolted, my mind couldn’t comprehend that I was looking at the stump of Phil’s mutilated arm. I hardened my heart and forced the giddiness and madness to the back of my mind. The time had come to cauterize the wound.
“Sonia, give it to me,” I said with a tremor in my voice. I reached out a hand towards her, a hand stained with Phil’s blood. It looked as if I were wearing a wet, crimson glove. Sonia only stared blankly at me for a long moment, however. A surge of anger ran up my chest.
“Sonia, toughen the fuck up! He’s going to die if you just sit there!” I swore at her, hearing my deep, angry voice bounce around the caverns. Sonia pulled back, as if she were struck. Inwardly, I cursed having a woman as my only able-bodied companion in this situation. She was a competent enough caver, but what would happen if violence and blood came over us? What would happen if, or more realistically when, we needed to fight?
Grimly, Sonia leaned forward and yanked the burning black orb out of the roaring fire, handing it to me on the end of a buck knife that had just barely pierced its hard, strange exterior. The handle of the knife felt coarse and splintery under my filthy skin. I put it to the spongy stump of Phil’s arm. The stump twitched violently. Phil tried to pull away as black smoke rose from the burning flesh.
There was a smell like bacon sizzling. The searing meat of Phil’s arm blackened and crisped under the heat of the orb, which had become no more than a cylinder of glowing blue embers by this point. I felt simultaneously sick and giddy. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or vomit. I felt like I was on the verge of some kind of madness, that the stress and insanity of the experience had started to shatter my mind.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he appeared to go into a seizure for a few seconds. With a long exhalation of breath, he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness. It’s hard to admit it, even this close to the end, but a small, sick piece of me was jealous of Phil. Most likely, he would be dead soon, maybe within hours, while Sonia and I would slowly starve and dehydrate like animals over a period of weeks. I looked at her lithe body and soft skin, seeing the feminine curves of her hips and chest. She was a beautiful woman. I knew Phil to be a lucky man. At least, before this trip, he was.
I watched her body, wondering if I had what it took to eat her or Phil if I had to. Did I have an iron heart that would allow me to slice into my friends and consume their raw, cold flesh? Perhaps, by that point, it would be hunger and madness driving me forward, and I wouldn’t even hesitate. I shuddered at the very thought.
***
I fell asleep that night, having strange dreams of massive gods with melting faces sitting in judgment in a circle around me. We had very little food or water left. No one knew we were down here. Rescue was not coming.
When I awoke, I found myself alone. Phil had died from his injuries while I slept, the black streaks of septic shock spreading up his arm towards his heart. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the rock ceiling.
“Sonia?” I called out, my heart racing as I sat up. “Where are you?” My headlamp was growing dim. I looked in my pack, realizing I was on the last of my batteries. I saw a silhouette walking out of the darkness, the thin, pale form of Sonia. She was trembling badly.
“I saw them,” she said. “Niralahoth and its priests. The priests aren’t human. They look reptilian with sideways mouths and too many eyes.” She shuddered.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. Her eyes grew distant.
“You know we’re not getting out of here alive,” she said. “Not on our own. I wanted to see what it offered. It says that if we take a piece of its nightmare into us, we will gain the power to leave this place, that it simply wants to see the surface and spread its nightmares there.” I shook my head.
“Insanity,” I muttered. “We’d be better off dead.” Sonia nodded.
“My thoughts exactly,” she responded grimly. I didn’t realize what she meant until the next day, when I woke up and found her hanging next to Phil’s body, her tongue swollen and blue as it poked out of her cyanotic lips. And then I was truly alone.
***
Soon after Sonia committed suicide, the last of the batteries for the headlamp died. I had run out of food and had only a small sip of water left. I don’t know how much time passed in the darkness, starving and raving, following the tunnel by running my hands over the walls. I heard many things skittering in the darkness, and a few times, I heard the demonic voice of Niralahoth as it split and distorted.
“You are on death’s door,” it hissed. “Will you not drink from the fountain of life?” I couldn’t tell where the voice came from in the maddening blackness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. I had lost nearly all of my sanity in that pit of shadows by this point. I tried laughing constantly to keep my spirits up, and when that failed, I simply cried.
“I’ll do it,” I wailed. “I’ll do it. Just let me see the sky again. Get me out of here, Niralahoth.” Everything went deathly silent all around me, then a laugh rang out like the grinding of glass.
In front of me, I saw a tornado of fire descending from the ceiling, surrounding the massive, spidery form of Niralahoth. It rose its skeletal arms upwards, as if it were Zeus calling down lightning. In the sudden brightness, I saw the fiery form of snakes slithering and centipedes skittering forwards in that tornado, each massive creature sculpted from flames in the spinning cyclone of energy. Niralahoth reached into the tornado of fire with its sharp points of fingers and plucked something small from it. The fire instantly dissipated. In its hand, I saw a tiny, swirling orb that looked like it contained a firestorm within it.
“The nightmare seed,” Niralahoth gurgled as it skittered forward towards me. I could only stare, open-mouthed and starving. I hadn’t slept for days, it felt like, and everything seemed slow and unreal.
In a blur, its skeletal arm shot out and forced the orb into my mouth. Despite the fire raging within it, it felt freezing cold. As it touched my tongue, it gave off a sensation like frostbite all throughout my mouth. I screamed and tried spitting it out, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. It started liquifying, dripping down my throat.
I felt something cancerous and sick spreading throughout my body, radiating out from my heart and stomach to every inch of it. I tried to scream, but it caught behind my teeth. I fell to my knees, clawing at my face as that insane, alien laugh continued resounding all down the tunnel. I fell unconscious and woke up under a beautiful sky in the fields of Graysole Farms.
***
Soon after, I realized that my life would never be the same. Everywhere I went, I could hear the wailing voice of Niralahoth. Behind the trees, I always saw skittering shadows, creatures with long, spidery legs that stalked me every day and night. I slept with every light in the house turned on, yet when I woke up, they would all be shut off, and I would find myself in darkness, next to something in the bed with far too many legs and a face that dripped like burning wax.
I sold everything I owned and tried to move far away, to give as much distance between myself and those cursed caverns as I could, but the nightmares followed me like a shadow. I realize what a fool I was in those ephemeral moments of madness. Sonia was much wiser than myself; I should have killed myself or died rather than allowing that thing inside of me.
Even now, I can feel it creeping through my heart, spreading through my blood. I feel it trying to crawl its way out of my throat, the thin, black legs peeking out at the back of my esophagus.
I only hope that, when I finally jump and feel my bones shatter against the concrete far below, I will kill whatever is inside of me. For I fear the consequences for the world if it were to escape.

[Part 1]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.

is it possible to roll out an upgrade for GlobalProtect but prevent the upgrade from disrupting an active VPN connection? i know there are multiple ways to upgrade GlobalProtect, but it seems like they all result in the user's VPN connection getting dropped as the upgrade isn't smart enough to see that a VPN is enabled. We've tried

1. upgrading from the Palo Alto - this seems to happen immediately and without warning.
   
2. upgrading from our custom patch solution (SolarWinds Patch Manager). the moment the computer detects that it can install the new GlobalProtect, it installs without checking to see if the VPN is already connected. this causes the PanGPA process to stop while the upgrade occurs. This also fails if the user is VPN connected because they lose their connection to the Patch Manager product when the VPN drops which prevents the install from completing (but the old version is already uninstalled so the user is hosed).
   

Appreciate any advice on how to do this without disrupting users.

So what would happen if I check my 2 bags and show up at the gate with 2 carryons plus a personal item (eg; suitcase, backpack, and computer bag. If I was stopped at the gate and had to gatecheck would I be charged the 3rd bag fee? Asking for a friend

Noah The Pilgrim
Previous First Next
'Noah.'
You can't feel your body, you try to move but receive no feedback from your arms and legs. You open our eyes, or were they always opened? It's difficult to tell when only darkness surrounds you.
'You're here again.'
It's that same voice you heard before waking up in that pod. You try to speak but fail. It feels like you left your body behind, existing only inside your mind.
'Allow me.'
From the dark, a circle of light emerges, filling your vision. The light is not blinding, nor is it too bright to obfuscate the dark, it's just bright enough to reach your eyes without prompting discomfort.
It's the Star. That much, you know for certain.
Normally, you'd feel hopelessly scared, but somehow, all you feel is soothed by its light.
'I remember telling you we wouldn't see each other for a long time. Why are you here?'
Although you wished to answer the question, you could not. Both because you have no control over your body, and because you don't know the answer.
'...'
You recall the AI telling you the purpose of the ship you're in. It was to study this star.
Why? What's so special about this particular star? Sure, it's on the very edge of the ever-expanding universe, but aside from that, it's just a star. A very odd-looking star, but a star nonetheless.
'What's so special about me... Nothing.'
A shiver runs down your spine. It feels as though you've forgotten a significant thing about yourself, and you're sure this star has something to do with it.
'How are you feeling, Noah?'
Like shit. That is what you wanted to answer.
You've been going with the flow ever since you woke up in that pod, not asking yourself neither how or why you've been put in that place, only nodding your way to the bridge.
You've been bombarded with memories that you're sure aren't yours, but your own memories also feel shrouded in a thick haze, and yet, you didn't bother to even think about why it was, only accepting that as truth without understanding this strange phenomenon.
When confronted with things beyond your current knowledge you refuse to acknowledge it by not asking yourself what it is, or by illuding yourself into thinking it's a dream.
Even now, you refuse to acknowledge this impossible place you've found yourself in.
'Why is it that you turn away?'
What to blame for that? You didn't even feel the need to ask anything about yourself. Randomly remembering things as though you were reading them off a manual, taking whatever FYARN says as an absolute truth, and not even reacting to the abhorrent state of the Odyssey.
When FYARN told you about the relationship between the alien and the human races, it told you how superior humans were, and it also told you that the human race lost the war. You didn't bother to call out that clear discrepancy then because you felt as though it didn't concern you, despite being clearly at the forefront of that conflict.
When FYARN asked what you remembered, you simply stated you didn't remember nearly anything, and yet you've made no strive to fix that issue, accepting it as the absolute truth.
All there was left to blame was yourself.
'You're doing it again, turning away from the truth.'
Was it because your situation was impossibly bizarre?
Waking up in a half-blown spaceship could be enough to drive a man to the brink with how random and impossible that notion was. Especially when that man was just a salary man, living month to month, working an unfulfilling job, all while being called the best.
'Perhaps. But I believe that the issue lies much, much deeper.'
The utter darkness shifts and contorts unexplainably. Moving shadows take formless shapes before you. From black to grey, and from grey to different shades of it. Those shapes of impossible geometry cast shadows downwards, as the star stared at you from above.
The shapes expanded and contracted into euclidean and understandable structures. Tall rectangular towers filled the horizon, decorating a path akin to buildings in a busy city.
On the foot of one of those structures, you see a man dwarfed by the sheer size of the scenery.
'Who do you think that is?'
You approach him.
You see a young man that looks to be in his mid-twenties. Your brown eyes stare back at it, analyzing the bags beneath his eye sockets. The dark hair is neither too long nor too short, hastily combed to hide the laziness behind his look. You see a beard that has not been trimmed for weeks, but also lacks thickness, each singular hair isn't particularly long either; and some even appear to be in-grown.
He's wearing a white tuckered-in buttoned shirt with a pair of jeans. A black backpack weighed on his back as he walked through this empty street.
A position you could imagine yourself in, every day of the week.
If you had failed to piece together who that was, it became clear once you noticed the empty look on his face.
It's obvious who that is.
He is a man whose bright dreams have been crushed under the weight of mankind.
How cruel, to be forced to gaze into a dirty mirror...
'You are starting to see it. Let's go further.'
The ractangular towers floated away, as the man continued to walk into the grey void.
Four white walls covered both you and the man, grey shapes transformed into a chair and desk, inviting the man to sit on it.
It was a plain desk and a plain chair, and when the shapes stopped transmogrifying themselves, a plain computer, monitor, keyboard, and mouse rested atop the desk.
Fitting for a plain man. You watch him sitting down in the chair, putting his backpack on the floor beneath the table.
From the backpack, he conjured a notebook and a set of pencils and erasers. He quickly turned the computer on.
This was his job.
The monitor remained grey despite how the man typed on the keyboard. The notebook remained grey despite how the man scribbled on it with the pencil.
A humanoid figure came to be from the geometric mess of grey nearby. It passed by the working man. "G'day Noah." It spoke, as he vanished into the white walls that surround you.
The man didn't bother to respond, he didn't bother to stop his work, and he didn't even bother to look up from his notebook.
Another humanoid figure passed by, holding what looked to be sheets of paper. "Hey Noah, could you sort these documents out for me? I'm swamped today..."
The man looks at the thick collection of papers in the figure's hands. He just started his shift and already lacks the energy and motivation to keep going with his day.
And despite that, he did not want to disappoint.
He points to the empty space on his desk, motioning for the figure to leave it there.
The figure places the paperwork on the man's desk. "Thanks, I owe you big time for this!" After saying that, the figure disappeared into the white walls of the room.
He did not speak a singular word.
You recall this... Feeling.
'Do you remember their names, Noah?'
You could not.
'Do you remember their faces, Noah?'
You could not.
'These people, you used to see them every day. Why do you not know who they are?'
What was the point of it? Why did it matter? Why did they matter?
'Because they are people.'
To you, those figures were nothing but placeholders for those who did the same thing as you. They were nothing special, just like you. So why bother to recall their faces?
'We must go further.'
The white cubicle ceased to be, alongside the man in plain clothing.
The towering rectangles swiftly returned, and with it came a young adult in his early twenties.
Your brown eyes stare back at his. The short dark hair looked as though it was combed for hours until it was perfect. You see a trimmed beard, neatly cut with a blade most sharp. You see that his face has been recently subjected to a daily skin-care regime.
This young man looks to be full of energy.
He's wearing a white tuckered-in buttoned shirt with a pair of jeans. A black backpack was strapped to his back as he walked through this empty street.
Again, you know who this is, yet you don't have the guts to accept it.
'...'
The ringing tune of a cell phone came from the young man's pockets. He promptly picked it up.
"Hey, Noah!" You hear the voice coming from the other side of the call. "The boys and I are going to throw a party today in my place to celebrate finishing high school. You better show up tonight!" It sounds like the voice originates from a man. He is yelling at the phone.
You watch as the young man smirks. "You can bet I'll be there." He answered. "I'll be done with today's interview and head there as soon as possible."
"Great... Something came up, catch you later bud!" And just like that, the call ended. The young man pocketed his phone.
You know how the rest of that day went. The young man passed the interview and secured his spot in a large IT company, then he went to his friend's place and had the best night of his life.
Those memories were the ones you revisited endlessly.
The grey shapes and humanoid figures vanish, returning to utter blackness.
Once again, all you see is the star.
'What happened, Noah?'
You couldn't say. Maybe it wasn't some big thing that happened, but rather a large quantity of small things that eventually crashed down upon you like an avalanche that built up for a long time.
Friends leaving to live their own lives.
Underappreciation of your career.
Your incapacity to form meaningful relationships.
The feeling of being small in the greater scheme of things.
The notion of your life being wasted for nothing.
A lack of accomplishment that was caused by a lack of problems.
You letting your physical appearance go.
But, even amongst all of those aggravating motives, there was one thing that always pained your heart to even recall. For that reason, you refused to acknowledge and even think about it. A trend that would continue for the upcoming years of your life.
Your dream.
Once adulthood came and expectations weighed on you, you had to choose. Live a comfortable life, or throw it all away in exchange for an idea that probably wouldn't even work, to begin with.
You refused to let go at first. Holding unto what little hope there was left for that dream of yours.
In three short years, your life shifted completely.
Friends grew distant, and now all you had as a replacement for them were faceless figures who spoke to you about a job you never really wanted.
Those very same figures held you in high regard, always saying how talented you were or how impressive your skills were. In truth, you never felt like what you did was worth the effort or the praise.
All you ever did in that company was half-assed at best, yet they praised you like their savior. You grew complacent under those who put you on a pedestal.
Your salary increased, and so did the responsibilities, but never were it challenging or engaging. It felt tasteless and odorless.
You refused to even respond to small talk from those people. How could you? If you did, they would shower you with praises you didn't deserve. That theory was proven time and time again.
All you did every day was sitting on a chair, eyes glued to the screen to meet an assortment of numbers and labels. This was nothing. There were people out there, changing the world, fixing the real problems, and you're there, sorting out numbers for a company created to sort out data for a company created to sort out data.
A null uroboros.
Twenty-eight years of a human's life, and for what? To waste away like a gear on a machine?
You remained ignorant of your ignorance. There were no problems since you had more than enough money from your ever-increasing salary you felt you didn't deserve.
You couldn't even bring yourself to quit, afraid to face the consequences, afraid to be replaced. A fact you understood fully well, yet you refused to acknowledge.
Clinging to a feeling of guilt, you couldn't help but hold on to this life. Your life, Noah.
You longed for a change, but wouldn't bring yourself to change it.
Your dream that you lived for so long ago, is something you couldn't even remember. You hid it away in a dark corner of your mind, hoping to never face it again, or else you would break down.
That is what happened.
The coldness of the world is what happened.
You wouldn't go as far as to say that you were a victim of fate.
Instead, you'd say you were a victim of yourself.
'And yet, you're here now. In an impossible place. In an impossible life.'
Are you to waste away on this place as well?
'You had conviction, but lacked guidance.'
Can you even muster that much courage? You fear what the future could bring.
'I presented you this chance for a reason, so you may show them that your soul is the brightest of them all.'
Fear is born for there is hope, but bravery is born for there is fear. You recall someone telling you that once, but...
'Remember this, Noah.'
Where does the courage to take a step forward come from? When it's so dark that you can't see the path ahead, how should one muster enough courage to make the right call?
'Whenever you feel lost, or alone; Whenever you feel like there is no way forward;'
Your vision starts to blur. The star begins to fade.
'So you may never lose your way again;'
Looks like it's time to return to reality.
'I, am your...'
This is my first HFY story, and also my very first OC story. I plan to post at least one of these per week while also posting it on my Patreon. Noah The Pilgrim will always be two to three chapters ahead in there, so if you'd like to directly support this writer, or just want to read more, feel free to check it out.
This has been Lushi, and I'll see you next week.