"You should go to Hallett. We went last year and it was fun. A good track for Miata's"
My friend Gerry the Texan who along with his team brings several Miata's to races all over from Road America to Houston to Seibring. It's a great bunch of people who are having a blast racing Lemons. He told me that and it got me to thinking. We wanted to go to a new track this year and after the disappointment at Barber going somewhere and having some fun sounded good. Also Hallett is noted for having a smaller field so we could be competitive. I always say that Barber is more like a pro level Lemons race in that it attracts the faster and better prepped teams. Road America was like that too.
But first we have to fix the car. As typical, we wait until the race is almost upon us to start. There's the matter of how bad the car is bent from the last race where Manny hit the wall. They thought it was good but we need to check this.
After pulling the rear sub frame in hopes of replacing it we learn that a 90 is a bit different than a 91 subframe or a 2001 subframe. Supposedly it all interchanges but after looking over the differences, Youngest adds a few reinforcements at places the internet gurus say are the weak points and we put the rear end together and put it back in the car. Then we check the alignment. To my great surprise the rear camber and caster is spot on. I was shocked, but the crew did a great job that night fixing the car while it was up on jack stands. Using just a tape measure they got the car really close. Toe was out but the borrowed porta powers got the bent subframe where it needed to be.
We changed the oil and brake fluid, bled the system where we took the rear apart to drop the subframe.
Another project we attempted was to swap in a larger fuel tank. Manny who has been helping with the repairs found a article on the internet that said you could bolt in a NB fuel tank out of a 2001 or so Miata and gain a gallon of fuel capacity. Yeah, that is not possible. The tank has a hump where the car does not and would involve cutting a hole in the car which would be a bit noticeable. Not worth it for such a little gain. Good news is I now have two extra NB tanks if anyone needs one. A gallon would not seem to be that much but we are still dreaming of two stopping the car at certain tracks, stretching our mileage to only stop every two hours and 25 minutes and make a seven hour day with one less stop. It's not all about raw speed, strategy can make a difference. One less stop per day could potentially add ten laps in a weekend of racing at certain tracks.
After we got the subframe in and the car aligned Youngest pulled it all apart again. He was not happy with the bushings holding the rear differential in place. The rear has to move a bit so it is not solid mounted, it actually can pivot a slight bit. He felt the bushings holding it were letting it move too freely.
Once again we put the car back together.
All during this time Manny and FabGuy have been working hard on a new car. Manny got a little crazy on Co-part. First one Miata shows up at our shop. Then another. Then another. I started joking with the guys "Hi I'm Manny, I might have a Miata addiction". Yeah. So after a lot of looking we have three wrecked cars, one being a automatic that was absolutely destroyed. It had zero good body panels and even the front subframe was pushed back where it had got up on something in a wreck. I think the only things we saved off that car was a rear axle, engine, transmission and the hard top which was cracked but usable.
We then robbed enough body parts off of one to put on the other so we ended up with a mostly maroon car with a drivers side red fender, red door and silver hardtop. I say we but all we did at the shop was to take the cars apart, everything else went to Manny's garage where he and FabGuy installed the cage and built the car. They did bring it over a time or two to put in the air to install a few parts or when we aligned it. The build and fitment were top notch on the car, lots of nice parts went in, like a better seat and belts than we use on our Miata. Like most builds they were literally bolting parts to it the night before we loaded the car to head west.
Finally both cars are prepped and it's time to get on the road. Manny has a business where he uses two rollbacks and moves cars mostly to and from car lots and auction lots. So he gets the newer one of the two trucks and shows up at the shop Thursday morning. RacerGuy and I are already there and have hooked our camper to RacerGuys truck. I am leaving my trucks at home, but taking our race trailer and our camper. The plan is to hook the camper to RacerGuys diesel F250 and hook the race trailer to Manny's newish Chevy 4500.
The plan nearly goes off the rails when Manny shows up and I get to looking at his truck. Being in the business I can't not help but look at tires. His drives are terrible, two are bald, one is soft and one showing wire. I go to air up one of the bald ones and it's not having it. Air is leaking out as fast as it was going in. In Manny's defense his employee was driving this truck and Manny had not seen it in weeks. I had already loaded tire tools and extra spare tires for every truck and trailer in the caravan except RacerGuy's truck and I would have got a spare for it too if I had thought about it. With nothing else to do, we all jump in and start busting tires. Forty five minutes later we have four new drives on the truck and we are in a much better spot to make the long drive. I hadn't done any big truck tires for a long time, sold that part of the business. Still got it, just like riding a bike.
We find I40 and start clicking off miles. Manny has already told us the limiting factor which is that GM put a really tiny fuel tank in his truck so we are forced to stop every 160-180 miles for fuel. It slows us down but it's not all bad, we find a roadside BBQ joint that looks like a camper up on blocks that has a huge parking lot and a ton of customers lining up. Of course we try it out, the best BBQ comes from little places like that, not the ones with massive buildings.
We cross Arkansas and I think it was the first time I ever went that way westbound on 40. Came back the other side when we brought the box truck back where we bought it in California. We finally make Oklahoma and bent north to go to Tulsa. Did not see the Tulsa King anywhere, stopped in a Super Walmart and stocked up on groceries for the weekend. Hallett is in the middle of nowhere, so we are planning on eating at the track.
We get there and make our way into the paddock. This will be the first time we have every camped inside the track. They have a cross over with gates that close during when the track is hot and a tunnel for access when the gates are closed. The tunnel looks kind of tight, I'm happy to not test the posted height limits. It says our trailers should fit. Yeah we will wait.
We hustle to get the camper leveled and the generator cranked up. For the next three days it will run non-stop to keep the fridge cold and our lights on. We run the a/c but for the most part temps are very nice.
The next morning we are up and on the road after the drivers meeting. We go to Pawnee, take in some sights then hit Stillwater for some parts and pieces at a hardware store. We also gas up all our empty gas cans so we are ready for race day.
Back at the track Manny and Fabguy are unloading their car off the back of the rollback. It was nice carrying one and towing one car. They go out and practice a bit, come in and make some changes then go out again. It's a new build and everyone has realistic expectations about the car. We are all expecting issues as it takes a while to find the weak spots and fix them.
We get our car out and practice. We send three of the four drivers out and have them run a few laps. I'm about to get ready and go out when RacerGuy comes in and says he felt something pop. We get to looking and the adjuster is gone off the alternator. Look a little more and the bolt has broken off in the alternator. So we have a spare motor in the trailer but it is missing the adjuster. Looks like we need the adjuster, the bolt and the alternator. We make a few visits around the paddock to look for parts but none of the other Miata teams have what we need. Youngest goes into the trailer and in a small miracle finds the adjuster laying under the spare motor loose. He and Coach head into Tulsa on a parts run while Manny agrees to put me into their car for a few laps so I can get a feel for the track. I've watched a hundred laps on Youtube but nothing is like actually driving the track. I go out and don't push things too hard. It is a very worn surface with some patches, particularly in the groove of turn two. Manny's car drives a lot different than ours, you can really tell you have more power and grip. Their tires are a lot wider as well as having 30-40 more hp. They have been working on the car all day and just finished taking off the lines where they installed a remote oil filter, they were not Lemons grade and were leaking.
Just before dark Youngest gets the parts on the car. We also install a helmet blower, we are going to try to use the air to defrost the windshield. All reports indicate rain is coming Sunday.
Then it's dinner time. Our friends from Minnesota have brought pure Lemons art down in the form of a Chrysler Magnum wagon powered by a slant 6 that is mid mounted. It is a engineering feat and runs out nicely. Adam the team leader and I have been planning and they are cooking for us for tonight and we are cooking for them Saturday night. They show us up by putting on a feed with steaks and salad. I'm feeling bad about the fact we are serving hamburgers, coleslaw and potato salad the next night. It was great.
Saturday morning dawns and we are up and moving around. I give up waiting on a shower as the line is too long inside and try the outdoor shower. It has no roof, just walls. It was ok. The next morning I tried it again and it was freezing, no hot water!
I skip breakfast and get ready to get in the car. I want to get on the grid early as I still am not feeling great about the track. The laps in Manny's car did not give me much to make me feel really attuned to the track as I was learning both the car and the track at the same time. I want all the practice laps I can get in our car. The line up is me, Youngest, Coach and then RacerGuy bringing up the finish for the day. FabGuy is gridded about ten cars behind us and he is under team orders to take it easy to start the race.
We get out and start doing pace laps. Soon enough it's green and the race is on. A few laps in Fabguy blasts by me. So much for taking it easy. Going into turn 2 I see a car off track. I mean he's not a little off the racing surface, he's 150 feet off the corner and just about in the tree line. I wonder what happened there. I am starting to get the hang of the track and pick up some speed. Then I mess up early on and miss the line completely going into turn 9 from 8 and run off the track. I fire the car back up and quickly exit and head to the penalty box.
"what happened?'
"I missed the line and ran out of asphalt and talent all about the same time"
The judge kind of laughs, "keep it on the track" and sends me back out. Youngest has made it to penalty and looks the car over from my adventure in the dirt and grass and gives the go ahead. If you are going to mess up do it right at the entrance to pit road, it really cuts down your time off track!
I run clean the rest of the stint. I tiptoe around the corner I went off but run hard the rest of the track without pushing so hard I get off again. Then Youngest, then Coach. We are having one of the best days we have ever had at the track. Besides my adventure off track no one else has messed up. Our stops are clean and quick. Our times top to bottom are very similar and consistent. Something strange is happening. We are in the top 15 overall and since we managed to get put in B class we are doing very well. Only 50 cars at Hallett this weekend, the smallest Lemons field we have ever competed against.
Fabguy pulls off to go to the gas pumps. We are fueling on pit road but they are going to just fuel at the pumps this race. They aren't planning on winning anything so why go to all the trouble of getting all your gear on and doing hot pit stops? Fabguy comes off a little hot and the officials come over to tell them they were over the ten mph paddock limit. Manyy drives the car up to the penalty and Fabguy comes up and they are told they are good to go. Later Manny gets off the track and goes to penalty. They start in on him not serving the penalty for going too fast in the pits. "we served that penalty" The judge goes off "do you really want to argue about this" Later when they realize the team was right and the previous judge had not marked it off the offenders list before going on break. In a first the judge apologizes to them.
With about two hours left in the day their Miata is towed off. The engine is super hot and will not crank. All signs look bad. Later it cools off and will crank, but cranks with ease, signs of a engine that has lost all compression. Their weekend is done and Fabguy heads out to get a headstart on getting to work early Monday. The rest of us will pull an all nighter after the race Sunday.
I start doing the math and realize it's going to be very tight. We make our calcuations based on a normal 7 hour race day. Today is a 7.5 hour day which is a bit longer than normal when racing Lemons. I figured out the stints and got it wrong. We realize our mistake and run Coach a bit longer before we put in RacerGuy. It's going to come right down to the limit of our fuel mileage. We start planning dinner and cleaning up the paddock with about ten minutes to go when all the sudden we realize the car is not out there. We run to the pumps and find Racerguy there. He ran out and limped the car to the pumps but could not get all the way there. By the time we get the car pushed around to get fuel the race is over for the day. I feel like a total idiot, I could have ran another five minutes easily in the car in the morning and not had this problem.
But the good news is that somehow even after I went off the track and and then we ran out of gas was that we were still very good on the day. We had enough of a lead on the car behind us in Class B that we still had a 7 lap lead even after running out of gas. Even better our paddock mates in the Chrysler are putting a shellacking on Class C as well. Their Magnum wagon is running a Richard Petty scheme, they all have uniforms and the requisite trademark Petty cowboy hat and STP logos, only this time it means "Slow Through Paddock" signs and all. They actually shouted this out when doing the morning driving meeting when they were going over the rules. "STP, Slow through Paddock!" every time the officials discussed that rule in the drivers meeting.
We put everything away, rain is moving in. We are in shock about how well everything is going. Surely we will find a way to loose this race tomorrow. Will other cars be faster in the rain? Will we shoot ourselves in the foot and have poor driving and get multiple black flags? Will something break on the car which has been running great all day long? And who the heck is this Coach guy? All that and more when we wrap up this in the next part of this story. Stay tuned!

My business school is located in a building that the manager claims has limited parking spaces. The building manager asked us to park in an empty, unpaved lot or on the street next to the building. One student’s truck was vandalized while parked in the suggested parking lot. Today, two other students’ car was hit while in the lot by a random driver that was texting.
Meanwhile, there are safer areas to park at the building. We can park in front of the building which does have a limited amount of spaces (6) or in a designated parking lot for the building that is located to the opposite side of the building. This parking lot on the opposite side has enough spaces for everyone to park safely. However, the building manager claims that those spots are for the customers of the other businesses there.
Would we be considered customers of a business being conducted there considering we paid to go to that school? If so, wouldn’t we have a right to park in the safer areas?
All in all, I’m asking if the girls have a legitimate case to sue the parking manager for giving harmful advice? And how much of a chance do they have at winning the case?
Thanks guys and yes I do not like the building manager he is an uppity entitled prick and if there’s a decent chance of winning at small claims court against him I will park in the street like he suggests just to sue his ass lol

I stared, mouth dry, heart pounding, at the message from my boss – That awful combination of words that my coworkers and I pray we never see:
“You’re in the running for Employee of the Year.”
For him to send something so callous via email – that was just rubbing salt in the wound.
My eyes glazed over the wall of text that followed. I didn’t need to read the details – I’d cleaned enough of the prior winners off the walls and ceiling of the soundproofed breakroom to know exactly what the award entailed.
After that initial, deep pang of fear faded, denial flooded in to take its place.
I wasn’t just hitting my sales quota, I was blowing it out of the damn water – selling big ticket items daily. I never forgot to place the stickers with my barcode on the products, either, so when my customers checked out and it was scanned at the register, the sales should’ve automatically been linked to my employee ID.
We don’t receive commission – there are other ‘incentives’ to keep our sales up. I hadn’t been watching the numbers because I knew I was making sales left and right – I would've never even dreamt that I was at risk.
It was just a glitch with our computer system, I decided with a nervous laugh. It had to be – something IT could probably sort out in no time.
When I finally regained control of my legs, I wobbled to my manager’s office.
There was no miscalculation, he assured me. It was my employee ID that ranked at the bottom.
“The barcodes never lie, Graham.” He didn’t even bother making eye contact.
I was circling the drain figuratively, and if I didn’t get my shit together – literally – soon enough.
I begged him to review the camera footage – I knew he'd be able to see me making all those sales. “Don’t worry,” he added, with a smile vacant of anything remotely resembling happiness, “One way or another, we all contribute to the success of our company.”
I suppose that by then, he was long desensitized to the pleas of the desperate.
As I left his office, I assured myself that this wasn’t a death sentence.
Not yet.
I had another month until they recalculated our final standings, before shit would get real. Before I’d be given a limp handshake and an empty ‘Thank you for your devotion to the company’ as I was led down the hallway. Before I’d meet what lives behind the usually padlocked door in the shadowy corner of the breakroom.
Before I’d learn what it truly meant to sacrifice myself for the good of the company.
Word spread fast around the office.
Kevin gave me his smug, shit eating grin – maybe he thought that with me out of the picture, he’d finally have a shot with Elise.
Elise… I just desperately hoped that hers wouldn’t be the name drawn afterwards – the one selected to hose what’s left of me off the breakroom floor and down the stained, rusty drain.
As required, I began parking in my new designated space at the far end of the employee lot – the faded sign indicating ‘Reserved for Employee of the Year’ nearly swallowed up by the encroaching tree line. It added an extra ten minutes to my walk to our store, and I dreaded that added time in the oppressive Texas heat. The rational part of me knew that was soon to be a moot point, though.
One way or another, in another month, I wouldn’t have that parking spot. If I were lucky, I’d live to see another summer – live to see some other poor bastard’s car parked there.
If they hadn’t already heard the news, when the rest of my coworkers saw my car in that space, they knew what it meant. Don’t get too attached.
They started avoiding me like the plague. I didn’t blame them.
We all knew what would be coming next if my sales didn’t improve – it's the same thing that happens every time:
We’d gather for the mandatory meeting on the closing night of the fiscal year, all eyes on the sorry son of a bitch that had ‘won’ – the room so quiet that you could hear their muffled sobs. They’d receive what barely constituted a handshake from my manager while he muttered – dead-eyed – his appreciation for their devotion to the company.
Next, they’d be ushered off to the breakroom to meet ‘corporate’. No one tried to run – not after what happened in '19. Instead, the winner would always turn back, shooting us a desperate, final look – eyes pleading for someone, anyone, to intervene. And, of course, no one ever did.
Once the door closed behind them and that sound-proofed room swallowed up the last of their sobbing, begging – it was over. The rest of us would be sent home and I'd try to shower away that disgusting feeling – that sick sense of relief that someone else was sent to their death, and not me.
Cal – the nicest guy I’d ever met – he was the bottom performer two years ago.
He’d fallen so ill that he’d nearly wasted away and eventually, couldn’t work anymore. He must've thought that freed him from his contract – if he left, if he never came back into work, he’d be okay.
He must not have read the fine print in our hiring paperwork.
Although, to be fair, if any of us had read it, we'd never have signed it in the first place.
Cal was a warning to the rest of us, that there is no quitting in our line of work. If they have to track you down and find you (and I promise you that they will find you) – well, wouldn’t you prefer to go with your dignity, with the company compensating your loved ones – rather than be pulled from your home, kicking and screaming into the night?
Gina was employee of the year in 2023. Gina, with the kind smile, whom Kevin had set his sights on before Elise – and, just like Elise, she wanted nothing to do with him.
I still remember that day, the day they released the final numbers. The way Gina’s mouth hung open in confusion, shock.
When she finally managed to form words again, she too insisted that there must be some mistake. We all vouched for her to management – I’d personally seen her make so many sales.
Our manager simply reminded us that the barcodes never lie.
My name was the one drawn for breakroom duty that next morning, to pick up what remained of her smile and her simple gold wedding band, to be returned to her family. In one business week, they received a box containing a check, and everything left of her that wouldn’t fit down the drain.
Once the numbers are finalized, once your employee barcode has been slapped on that innocuous looking pink slip, well, your fate is sealed.
Kevin, in all his years at the company, has never parked on the far side of the lot. He has never even come close to becoming Employee of the Year, even though he couldn’t sell a bottle of water to a man dying of dehydration. He is sleaze incarnate and doesn’t even have the charisma to mask it.
I never understood how he did so well, but I couldn’t afford to think about him.
I had myself to worry about, and the glitch in the system. Any time I found myself in the breakroom, that ancient wooden door was an unwelcome reminder of the impending one-way trip it held for me.
I took special care to keep an eye on my sales, working my ass off, pulling double shifts. I pulled up the numbers as the end of month drew near, and couldn't believe it.
I was still dead last.
Somehow, there were days where less than half of my sales had been recorded to my employee number.
I didn’t understand.
I waited for the opportunity to sneak into the manager's office, and pull the footage myself.
I’d show the boss that something had gone wrong with the calculations, that the system was broken.
I finally got my chance. At first, I triumphantly watched myself make sale after sale – far more than had been credited to my account. For the first time in a month, I felt a sense of relief. I had evidence, and that had to count for something.
I switched feeds, to the camera nearer to the registers so I could confirm that the codes were being scanned. I'd seen several scanned successfully, and reached to turn off the recording. That's when I saw it.
Saw him.
Kevin.
It was subtle. I didn't realize what he was doing at first, until I recognized the pattern. Even then, I had to rewind and watch again for it to click.
It happened for nearly half of my sales that day. I saw him Intercepting the customers before they could check out – before I could get credit for my sales. And while he chatted them up, he discretely slapped his employee barcode over my own.
I confronted him that night – I was furious. He just smiled, smugly gave me that line about how the barcodes never lie.
He didn’t give a shit that he was sentencing someone else to death.
Hell, maybe he even enjoyed it.
Kevin had stolen credit for Gina’s sales – and god knows who else's.
Fucking. Kevin.
The day our numbers were to be finalized, he had the audacity to place his barcode over mine on a huge sale I’d made – he made no attempt at hiding it – right in front of me. He flashed me a grin as he did.
I caught up with the customers before they checked out and they kindly allowed me to peel the sticker off. I stuck it in my pocket to show my manager.
I pulled the video, too, and I stormed into his office, refused to leave until he watched it. I studied him as his eyes moved across the screen and if he was upset or shocked, he certainly didn't show it.
Finally, he met my eyes, and at the sight of the pain in his – well, for the first time, I felt a sense of relief.
Until I realized why he looked so miserable. Until he whispered, “I'm sorry, Graham. Someone has to receive that award tomorrow. It's out of my hands.”
I wordlessly handed him that damn barcode sticker of Kevin’s that I’d peeled off. He studied it for a long moment before he handed it back to me with a mere, “Why don't you hold onto this.”
I told Elise what had happened over lunch, and as much as I appreciated her outrage on my behalf, I was already resigned to it. I'd mainly wanted to warn her because I had a sick feeling she'd be the one Kevin went after next.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't devastated when, that night, my boss called me into his office and informed me of the final standings. Yeah, I knew it was coming, but I guess it's just human nature to hold onto denial – hope – until the bitter end.
For what felt like an eternity, we stared at each other in silence. The presence of the pink slip of paper lying on the desk between us, said more than enough.
Finally, my eyes drifted down to the form.
He’d already signed, but the space where my barcode – the series of vertical lines spelling out my death sentence – should’ve been placed, was empty.
I never knew how this part went, since it always took place behind closed doors. No one that ever filled out that form lived to tell the rest of us about it.
“I need you to place a barcode here before I send the form to corporate.” he said, eventually.
I opened my mouth for one final, impassioned plea for my life, but he interrupted me. He spoke each word slowly, softly.
“I’m leaving the room now. I need you to place a barcode here, before I send the form to corporate.”
He stared at me for a long moment, waiting for my barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement before leaving me alone in the office.
They processed the paperwork, and announced the Employee of the Year that next day.
Yes, I did feel a pang of guilt as I watched the smug grin fade, the blood drain from Kevin’s face as he stared in shock at the outstretched hand of our manager – as he was thanked for his devotion to our company.
I felt it again as I watched him plead all the way to the breakroom, as our manager spoke to him the same mantra we’d all heard before.
The barcodes never lie.
But I thought of Gina, of the countless others, and by the time I heard the door slam behind him – the guilt was already gone. In its place, the relief of knowing the rest of us were safe.
Well, at least until next year.

English is not my first language
30yrold male almost balding single driest spell since corona no sex no love interest whatsoevr
Was working for walmart.com customer support
Wake up see myself just to make sure I am still there
Get to work try not to make eye contact with any women because I feel like I might be looking like a perv you know 30yrold silent Fuck. Never thought I'd be at this point that I'd be disgusted by myself...
I get lots of calls i try to cheer customers up be helpful provide extra vouchers just because I like customers even though I had been warmed not to do so...
Sometimes joke here and there One time customer comes in wants to change the car battery just for conversation's sake ask how long the last battery last?
Customer: Idk 3.5 years Me: Heh... Just like a normal relationship Customer: wah!? Hahahahahahaha
I like customer service sometimes
But that day, I get this 60 or 70 year old lady's call and she was angry I try to help her, I helped her but she is still angry I stay on call. I know its not us something else that can't be helped... Then she breaks she cries she says she has been alone all her life and only wish someone was there... I share my experience with her and my loneliness is nothing compared to what she goes through everyday then she said a few lyrics and i sang then we sang together how I wish ... How i wish you were here
We're just two lost souls Swimming in a fish bowl Year after year Running over the same old ground What have we found?
Same old fears Wish you were here
Give each other a virtual hug
I missed on many love interests... Hope if was all worth it
Sometimes we share same pain to ease the same pain Sometimes your pain is your purpose

**Sorry for the lengthy post in advance*\*
My car was sideswiped on the right side on May 7th. I was driving straight when the other Driver tried to merge into traffic after being stopped beside a yellow curb. Somehow the other Driver didn't see me as she went to pull forward and she hit my car hard enough to take her front bumper almost clean off (was still hanging just barely on the right side) and my right side passenger door will no longer open, giant gash all the way down the right side of my vehicle. I called the police, took photos of the scene (had to move my car because it was hindering traffic directly, cars were lining up), and gave a statement to the officer. He checked both drivers for "suspected at fault" on the police report, but in his narrative, he clearly stated that the other driver "Unit 2" was determined to be at fault. This is where things started getting difficult..
Accident happened on Tuesday 5/7. I called the police immediately, my insurance, took photos, provided them to both insurance parties- everything I was supposed to do on day one. Meanwhile, two days go by before the at-fault driver makes contact with their insurance at all. I had called Wednesday and Thursday to find out if their insurance had heard anything from the driver- nothing. Finally, Friday 5/10, after I'd been called them early that morning and left a voicemail, their insurance calls me back around 5:00PM (you know, when everything's basically closing for the weekend.) I'm told by an agent assisting with my claim (not the agent who was handling it "directly") that there was nothing they could do because "The police report shows you to be at fault" (he was reading an ACCIDENT INFORMATION FORM and NOT a **POLICE REPORT**) and that he'd spoken to their insured driver "yesterday" about it. Well, awesome, they let a whole two days go by without telling me they'd heard from their insured while I'm having to cancel plans to pick up my Mother for Mother's day that weekend (she's 75 and I frequently drive 8 hour long trips to pick her up for family events. My passenger door again won't open and she can't ride in the backseats.) I managed to get in contact with the police department customer service line just before they closed for the weekend and they informed me that the **police report** hadn't even been completed yet, that it wouldn't be released until the following Monday lol. So, the genius who told me that they had a **police report** screwed up because they in fact **didn't have one yet**, and didn't know wtf documentation he was even looking at, which seems extremely unprofessional at best and in bad faith at worst. Either way, not good to tell me they have official documentation when they don't.
So, Monday morning rolls along, 5/13. I call in and get the **actual** police report from police customer service. It shows myself and the other driver "Unit 2" to be at fault, both of our names checked for "suspect at fault" but in the narrative it clearly states "Unit 2 determined to be at fault but not cited." I send this to their insurance. They call me the next day, Tuesday, and come at me with a double standard about the report. They claim that because the officer was not there, that they cannot go off of his narrative as proof... but they can take his word on the two checked boxes where I'm "suspect at fault" along with their insured lol? Okay.. well, the officer **also** wasn't there to attest to either of us being qualified as "suspect at fault" because he didn't see anything. This is ridiculous, and I understand it's how things go with insurance, but lol. It's a clear double standard: take one part of the evidence to your benefit and leave the other part out. They told me since there was no video footage, I was out of luck. When I asked the adjuster to provide me with any proof they'd been given and a written statement about what story they'd been given by their insured, the adjuster got really rude with me and hung up on me and wouldn't return my call back. So, I called my insurance agent (I had reported the accident to her initially but told her I would be going through the at-fault's insurance, she said that's fine and my premiums will remain the same) and I informed her of all this just to be honest and keep her updated. By this time, I was also waiting on the police to get in touch with me about getting my police report amended to remove the check box showing I was "suspect at fault".
From Tuesday 5/14 to Thursday 5/16, I spend days calling the police, trying to get in touch with the officer who responded to the scene, keep getting told I'll hear back from him or a sergeant, nope. I go to 4 different police precincts and 2 different courthouse buildings TRYING to figure out who the hell I can get to just amend the report for me, each location pointing me somewhere else... I eventually speak to a sergeant who informs me he'll get the police report amending process "expedited" (still haven't heard back from him lol) and he tells me I might need to request approval for the footage from the county sheriff........... SO, after realizing I was basically on my own, realizing that my only recourse was that surveillance footage, I just went straight to the location where the accident happened outside of by myself (it actually was outside one of the courthouses I went to for information...) and they fucking handed me over a disc with the surveillance footage the following morning, Friday 5/17. No police escort needed, no court order, no county sheriff..! The woman working the front desk happened to also be outside when the accident happened on May 7th, and she remembered me and knew exactly what I was there for! I sent this video footage to my insurance agent and she said she would send the video file to the other insurance party herself and try to get the ball rolling for me about getting all of this settled.
Thank you for anyone that has read this far. This is my first time dealing with this kind of thing and it's been more leg work than I expected. I don't mean to come off as blunt to anyone reading, just trying to handle this as assertively as I need to not get myself ripped off by anyone, as I thought this would be a very straight forward proceeding and thought that the other driver was very clealy liable. At this point, what should I do to proceed? Does the other insurance company sound like they dropped the ball a few times or am I being too brash in thinking this? They basically lied or didn't know what they were telling me about when they stated prematurely that they had a police report, and let me go on indefinitely with bad information that I had to figure out on my own wasn't true. They had an entire department from another state handling my claim in the beginning that apparently wasn't "legally allowed" to handle my claim because of whatever red-tape explanation they gave me, I cannot recall.. but more time wasted. I know insurance agents get swamped, I understand you all work very hard, but I felt pretty disregarded by at-fault's insurance when I was trying to seek answers about their reasoning. It is now Tuesday 5/21 and I have yet to hear from their insurance, their website still says I am liable for the accident, and there's absolutely no way lol. They have the video, they've had to have watched it by now, it absolves me of any liability plain as day. I feel like they are still collating this information and sitting on their hands. At what point should I press for escalation of this issue? Should I hire a pro bono lawyer? Or should I just relax? I feel like the adjuster hanging up on me and trying to move forward with no explanation provided and just writing me as liable isn't right. I'm also out of work now for the past two weeks (I do rideshare and also help take care of my father in-home hospice care with my sister.)
Any advice is appreciated. I'm not trying to gouge anyone or upset anything, I just want to get compensated correctly and get this over this. I am very confident in that I am not liable, I have photos and video to back this up. I am just wondering how should I be handling the at-fault's insurance from here on?

My car was sideswiped on the right side on May 7th. I was driving straight when the other Driver tried to merge into traffic after being stopped beside a yellow curb. Somehow the other Driver didn't see me as she went to pull forward and she hit my car hard enough to take her front bumper almost clean off (was still hanging just barely on the right side) and my right side passenger door will no longer open, giant gash all the way down the right side of my vehicle. I called the police, took photos of the scene (had to move my car because it was hindering traffic directly, cars were lining up), and gave a statement to the Officer. He checked both drivers for "suspected at fault" on the police report, but in his narrative, he clearly stated that the other driver "Unit 2" was determined to be at fault. This is where things started getting difficult..
Accident happened on Tuesday 5/7. I called the police immediately, my insurance, took photos, provided them to both insurance parties- everything I was supposed to do on day one. Meanwhile, two days go by before the at-fault driver makes contact with their insurance at all. I had called Wednesday and Thursday to find out if their insurance had heard anything from the driver- nothing. Finally, Friday 5/10, after I'd been called them early that morning and left a voicemail, their insurance calls me back around 5:00PM (you know, when everything's basically closing for the weekend.) I'm told by an agent assisting with my claim (not the agent who was handling it "directly") that there was nothing they could do because "The police report shows you to be at fault" (he was reading an ACCIDENT INFORMATION FORM and NOT a **POLICE REPORT**) and that he'd spoken to their insured driver "yesterday" about it. Well, awesome, they let a whole two days go by without telling me they'd heard from their insured while I'm having to cancel plans to pick up my Mother for Mother's day that weekend (she's 75 and I frequently drive 8 hour long trips to pick her up for family events. My passenger door again won't open and she can't ride in the backseats.) I managed to get in contact with the police department customer service line just before they closed for the weekend and they informed me that the **police report** hadn't even been completed yet, that it wouldn't be released until the following Monday lol. So, the genius who told me that they had a **police report** screwed up because they in fact **didn't have one yet**, and didn't know wtf documentation he was even looking at, which seems extremely unprofessional at best and in bad faith at worst. Either way, not good to tell me they have official documentation when they don't.
So, Monday morning rolls along, 5/13. I call in and get the **actual** police report from police customer service. It shows myself and the other driver "Unit 2" to be at fault, both of our names checked for "suspect at fault" but in the narrative it clearly states "Unit 2 determined to be at fault but not cited." I send this to their insurance. They call me the next day, Tuesday, and come at me with a double standard about the report. They claim that because the officer was not there, that they cannot go off of his narrative as proof... but they can take his word on the two checked boxes where I'm "suspect at fault" along with their insured lol? Okay.. well, the officer **also** wasn't there to attest to either of us being qualified as "suspect at fault" because he didn't see anything. This is ridiculous, and I understand it's how things go with insurance, but lol. It's a clear double standard: take one part of the evidence to your benefit and leave the other part out. They told me since there was no video footage, I was out of luck. When I asked the adjuster to provide me with any proof they'd been given and a written statement about what story they'd been given by their insured, the adjuster got really rude with me and hung up on me and wouldn't return my call back. So, I called my insurance agent (I had reported the accident to her initially but told her I would be going through the at-fault's insurance, she said that's fine and my premiums will remain the same) and I informed her of all this just to be honest and keep her updated. By this time, I was also waiting on the police to get in touch with me about getting my police report amended to remove the check box showing I was "suspect at fault".
From Tuesday 5/14 to Thursday 5/16, I spend days calling the police, trying to get in touch with the officer who responded to the scene, keep getting told I'll hear back from him or a sergeant, nope. I go to 4 different police precincts and 2 different courthouse buildings TRYING to figure out who the hell I can get to just amend the report for me, each location pointing me somewhere else... I eventually speak to a sergeant who informs me he'll get the police report amending process "expedited" (still haven't heard back from him lol) and he tells me I might need to request approval for the footage from the county sheriff........... SO, after realizing I was basically on my own, realizing that my only recourse was that surveillance footage, I just went straight to the location where the accident happened outside of by myself (it actually was outside one of the courthouses I went to for information...) and they fucking handed me over a disc with the surveillance footage the following morning, Friday 5/17. No police escort needed, no court order, no county sheriff..! The woman working the front desk happened to also be outside when the accident happened on May 7th, and she remembered me and knew exactly what I was there for! I sent this video footage to my insurance agent and she said she would send the video file to the other insurance party herself and try to get the ball rolling for me about getting all of this settled.
Thank you for anyone that has read this far. This is my first time dealing with this kind of thing and it's been more leg work than I expected. I don't mean to come off as blunt to anyone reading, just trying to handle this as assertively as I need to not get myself ripped off by anyone, as I thought this would be a very straight forward proceeding and thought that the other driver was very clealy liable. At this point, what should I do to proceed? Does the other insurance company sound like they dropped the ball a few times or am I being too brash in thinking this? They basically lied or didn't know what they were telling me about when they stated prematurely that they had a police report, and let me go on indefinitely with bad information that I had to figure out on my own wasn't true. They had an entire department from another state handling my claim in the beginning that apparently wasn't "legally allowed" to handle my claim because of whatever red-tape explanation they gave me, I cannot recall.. but more time wasted. I know insurance agents get swamped, I understand you all work very hard, but I felt pretty disregarded by at-fault's insurance when I was trying to seek answers about their reasoning. It is now Tuesday 5/21 and I have yet to hear from their insurance, their website still says I am liable for the accident, and there's absolutely no way lol. They have the video, they've had to have watched it by now, it absolves me of any liability plain as day. I feel like they are still collating this information and sitting on their hands. At what point should I press for escalation of this issue? Should I hire a pro bono lawyer? Or should I just relax? I feel like the adjuster hanging up on me and trying to move forward with no explanation provided and just writing me as liable isn't right. I'm also out of work now for the past two weeks (I do rideshare and also help take care of my father in-home hospice care with my sister.)
Any advice is appreciated. I'm not trying to gouge anyone or upset anything, I just want to get compensated correctly and get this over this. I am very confident in that I am not liable, I have photos and video to back this up. I am just wondering how should I be handling the at-fault's insurance from here on?

"Proof" I was here. (As I stated in the first thread, I will not be disclosing this location to any of you. Took as neutral of a photo as I could. If you live here, MAYBE you'll recognize it. Take it for what it is, I guess.)
Link to part one.
Before we begin, let me start by saying WOW, simply because when I passed out last night, I was hovering around ~350 upvotes and had a steady trickle of interaction with people. I was doing my best to respond to the comments as they came in. Then, when I woke up this morning, ya'll...I had over 1500 messages in my inbox and the thread has fucktupled in upvotes, just overnight. I'm so sorry if I didn't respond to you...it was a fool's errand to try and get to everyone.
I also want to address specifically a small handful of you...the ones I was certain would show up in the comments to basically call me a liar or say my story was fabricated. Some of the reasons you gave were pretty telling. My favorite was when someone said something along the lines of "This is too well-written to be true." What a world we live in where clear dictation automatically disqualifies a recounting of events from being accurate. I'll admit that it read closer to a novel than anything else, but that's just how I dictate I guess.
Anyways, onto the update.
I arrived at the tire shop just a hair after 8:00am. There was one gentleman in line at the counter when I arrived, but he was already being assisted by one of the associates manning the register. I took a look around and peeked my head in the back office area where I knew John typically worked when he wasn't being pulled into a bay.
John wasn't there.
As I walked towards the sitting area, I happened to ask an employee who was walking by if he knew when John would be in today. He told me John usually arrives a bit before 9:00am when he worked mornings, so I should just chill for a bit. I didn't have anything pressing to attend to today, so I did just that.
As I moved towards a seat, I happened to glance outside at the working bays and noticed my ol' buddy Eric, who was currently walking towards the main building. When he saw me, I watched as his head drooped down and I could visibly see him mutter the word "Fuck" under his breath. He stopped for just a second, shook his head, and continued walking towards the building.
When he came inside, he set a packet with what I presume was a customer order on the counter and said something to the clerk at the register. He hesitated for a moment and walked over to where I was sitting. As he approached, I greeted him with "Morning, Eric." and smiled. He just stood over me for a moment before he took a chair across the coffee table that was sitting in front of me.
Wonder what his next move was?
Honestly, I didn't expect it, but the dude opened with "I owe you an apology."
Color me shocked, I guess.
Now, you see...at this point about a billion things began to run around in my head. MOSTLY, for some reason, the things that ran most prominently through my mind were all the calls for bloodshed that popped up in the last thread. All the claims that Boomers can never learn and the only language they knew was bullying, which were thrown at me like mortars practically every step I took. Ya'll were bloodthristy last night and still were this morning, convinced that this gentleman was a drunkard asshat, but do drunk asshats apologize after doing something wrong?
Back to the story.
He continued on, saying that he didn't just owe ME an apology, but also the cashier he yelled at last night, and how he had actually planned on returning to Walmart on his lunch break to see if she was working so he could apologize to her as well. In his words "I've been dealing with a lot of personal shit in my life recently including the loss of a loved one, and I took that out on ya'll last night and it wasn't right."
Right about this time is when I noticed that John had arrived. He walked in through the door behind where Eric and I were sitting and walked straight into the back area I checked before. We will get to that later.
Guys, I honestly had no idea what to do. On one hand yes, this dude was a raging douchebag to that girl last night, but this felt genuine. I mentioned several times in the first thread that I didn't want to react hastily and this is exactly why. Had I gone in there and thrown a colossal fit and started a shitstorm, I don't know if this would have ended the same.
Anyways, I don't wish to grandstand things further. The guy apologized, I stood up and shook his hand, and I simply told him "Be good to people for no reason, man. Kindness is free and isn't a sign of weakness." We chatted a bit and had a bit of a revelation that Eric and I have a distant connection neither of us really knew about. I won't disclose what or how we knew each other for personal reasons.
Then John came out of the back office.
He recognized me and gave me a hug. Asked what I was in for. I basically told him that I ran into Eric at the store last night and wanted to check in on him and get an update on an issue he was having there.
That's when John said "Yeah, Eric I need to talk to you about that. I had a lady call me about something that happened at Walmart you were involved in."
Oh shit. I'm guessing either the manager or the cashier called John after what happened last night. I guess the ball isn't in my court any longer.
Eric gave a deep sigh and basically told John "I was a shithead to a cashier last night because I was in a hurry. I wasn't thinking and it wasn't right. I'm gonna make it right at lunch time. I hope she's working today." John then said something I didn't catch and him and Eric walked into the back room.
That's it. End of story. I took a scrap from a notebook, jotted down my "proof" and snapped a photo, then jumped in my car and left. I do apologize if this left anyone feeling unfulfilled.
I certainly hope that this brings you guys whatever closure you were looking for. I'm certain some of you aren't going to be happy with how this turned out, given how many pitchforks I saw last night. But after all this, all I can say is to not be so hasty when jumping to conclusions. People are people, ya'll. You can't really be sure what someone is going through before you jump to judgment. Some folks don't know how to ask for forgiveness or don't know how to take responsibility for their actions, but some folks can. I'm glad this resolved itself the way it did. John knows what happened and knows that it happened with his business on full display, so he can now CHOOSE how HE reacts with that information. I got the closure I needed, and I hope the cashier does too. Time will tell in that regard, I suppose.
Be good to each other. Keep being kind. It's genuinely a real-life superpower. The universe rewards kindness in kind.

I was having dinner at Macs at AMK Hub. It was super busy and I could see the people working at the counter running around struggling with the high amount of orders. My food came pretty quick but my milo tasted bad, I'm guessing they diluted it too much or something so I went up to the counter to ask for a new cup. Suddenly, I heard someone raising their voice. It was a guy, obese and reeking of BO, mid to late 30s with his 2 children. He was verbally abusing the manager working there. I saw him queueing up to order some ice cream before entering macs. He was asking her why other people received their ice cream earlier even though he ordered before them. The manager apologized profusely and returned with his order of 3 ice creams almost immediately. He then continued to cuss at her and asked for her name, in which she hesitantly gave because he was purposely going extremely close to her to look at her name tag. The funny thing is, he claimed to have been waiting for his order for 30 minutes, but in reality it was less than 10 because I literally saw him ordering it before going in.
I run an online business, in which I have to go to singpost to mail out customers orders. Awhile back, a woman bought an item from me that was supposed to be a gift for her husband. Due to the nature of my business, all items are pre order as they are custom made and it typically takes around 8 days to be ready to be mailed. Her husbands birthday was 9 days away, so I told her that I would physically deliver the item to her house as singpost takes around 2-3 days to ship. I broke 2 of my toes the day her item was ready to be mailed out while playing basketball (don't ask me how haha). I told her that unfortunately I was unable to drive to her location as my foot was literally in a cast. She told me that if I didn't personally deliver the item before her husbands birthday she would make a police report, claiming that I had scammed her and falsely promised her. I told her that I was not in the condition to drive, and told her that I would either get my parents to drop off the item at singpost that same day or arrange a same day delivery courier service at my cost. She was not having it, started to spam call me and bombarded my instagram and shopee with nasty comments and reviews. I told her that if she needed it that urgently, she could come down and collect it herself. She demanded that I pay her $50 for her fuel and time. In the end, my friend did me a huge favour by collecting it from me and delivering it to her.
Why do Singaporeans not know compassion? I see this almost everyday, especially towards service workers or on the roads. Customers being straight up rude and abusive, and drivers road hogging/tailgating/not giving way, and the most annoying part, speeding up when a car signals to change lane. Be better.

Last night was a crazy ensemble of mystery, magic, lively characters, pure luxury high class dreaming, attention to detail you normally only see in the fanciest of places! And it all started very normal. Let's dive into the dream space!
I am standing on a platform at train station Haarlem Centraal, Netherlands. Trains came and went. When I look around, I see people standing, waiting to catch the next train. Looking up, a digital sign said: “Groningen”. The next train went to Groningen, it actually sounds pretty nice, so I wanted to go there.
As I'm reaching into my left pocket, I notice I have my phone with me. I turned it on, and it was open on the Contacts app. On the top of the list, there was a peculiar person I never heard of before: Ben. I decided to give Ben a call.
A robotic voice made itself audible on the speaker. The robotic voice said: “Hi, I'm Ben! A dream AI. I can change any dream for you just the way you like it.”
“Anything?”, I ask. “We do anything for our customers. Your deepest desires, your wildest wishes and your greatest adventures come true. With Ben, you are 100% in control”.
Eager to test that theory, realizing as I was getting lucid — I'm not just anybody! I'm not going to stand here and wait for public transport like normal citizens do! I want a private train!
And so I speak my wishes in a clear English voice to Ben on my phone. No reply. Ben wasn't saying a word.
But something is changing… Looking up at the sign, it starts to flicker, as if someone is hacking into the sign in my dream, and quickly, the sign updated, saying: “Do not board — Private train”.
Not long after, I hear the train rolling into view — and my dragons — was it a marvel to behold, easily 100 cars long. The entire exterior is a silvery white train with red stripes on it. The red stripes are made from precisely cut ruby that is so thin and so flat that it surprises me it doesn't chip or crack. Surrounding the ruby stripes was chrome lining that holds everything together.
It looks shiny and beautiful, modern yet classical, drawing its inspiration from late 80s diners in the United States, along with Sci-fi elements from “Snowpiercer” and “Hunger Games — Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes”.
What really strikes me at this point is that, this all feels man-made. Engineered. My fantasy doesn't extend to these exquisite tastes without much research beforehand. And yet, that initial fear of the unknown made it all the more tantalizing to step in and roll the fast-lane of the dream world.
The car at the front opens its door, and to my surprise, nobody of the crowd steps in, automatically obeying what the sign says. In a split second, Ben had changed the normal aesthetic of a public train station into a capitalist class-divided private railroad for the ultra-rich to get their own private trains. In real life I'd hate this, but now I couldn't care less!
I got inside the train at the front, just before the conductors' car. The first cabin is relatively simple. It has a few chairs, tables that's it. Nothing too shabby. Each car has the same silvery white colour as the exterior, separated by red doors, mimicking the ruby stripes.
For the first time since my command, the AI spoke again: it said the train would be departing soon, but that I'm allowed to explore the train as I wish.
So, I go into the next car — and this one is a freaking tennis court! It was absolutely insane. There even is a small place for people to watch the game!
I walk into the next car — this seems to be a little restaurant, and quickly becoming my favourite car!
Stockpiles of candy and snacks and everything laid for people to grab for free!
There are Maltesers, Snickers, Bounty, and variations of it all!
Sitting on the floor (as the cabin where the candy was held was quite low), I start munching on everything. And I mean, everything!
I started eating the whole supply, there is even white Maltesers, and oh my god, they tasted so good.
Throughout this feast, I keep thinking of how grateful I am that it feels so real, the taste, the crunch, the feeling of getting full… My synapses are firing like crazy at this point to make this taste so real.
After the entire bar is emptied, and I feel almost like puking, I walk into the next car, this one is a literal petting zoo! It has a cow behind a small fence, and some chicken above in a cage.
It was an absolute monster of a train, and it just kept going, and going, and going! Everything stayed so consistent. I could always find my way back to the first cabin and I could even look at the screens inside the train and see how fast we are going.
I could look outside and see biomes consistent of that with the Netherlands… But something happened along the way. The more and more I drove towards Groningen. I started noticing that there are other people around, too.
First just a few, but later on, it starts to become more and more. And I began to ask myself: Where do these people come from?
This was intense and at this point I am a little annoyed because they weren't supposed to get on. We didn't stop in front of a station, so they couldn't have got on in the first place.
At some point, I even see my family. My mom and my sister… I ask my mom: “how did you get in?”
And she tells me that she doesn't know, but she is very happy to be here, there are so many things to do, and it is so special to spend time together with us on this train. I actually feel a little emphatic. Yeah, this could be special, let's ride it out!
I walked also towards other people, strangers… They say they are lucid dreamers and that they wanted the private train. But for some reason, the private train, was the same train for all of us.
I guess the AI made a mistake and thought that this train was the private train and just gave it to every lucid dreamer out there. I don't know, but the whole thing felt almost spiritual because all of these people, felt real. It added life to the scene. I see people hanging out in the restaurant car — just talking to each other about completely random subjects, relaxing. You know, just taking a cup of coffee or something. The train, the engineering, the people, everything was alive. It was so real.
It is even more alive than that. To each other and to me, these people were strangers at first. But riding this out together, starts to feel like days as time begins to drift. We began closing in on each other, some strangers became friends, and the friend groups started doing things together having activities. And the kids started patting the cow together.
Couple of more days in, people start setting up shops together, and they start making their own things. From just a means of luxury transportation it soon shifted into a meters long artist hub. And slowly, but surely, as the days pass, it becomes a city on rails. There are kids playing and everyone knows each other.
It is a crazy experience to see all this unfold, a life intermingled and yet so different all having their own characters and their own clothing, their own movements. Everything. Just… oh… it fell into place in this one thing.
And then I start to feel that I am going to wake up… Being so attached to this place. I don't want to just leave without saying goodbye. So, I walk to the front of the train, to the conductor. Strangely enough, no human is driving the train. In front of me there is a desk with nothing but a single microphone and a button. I activate the microphone to make an announcement.
A jingle starts playing, the same one as in Snowpiercer. I started having my speech, and I remember exactly what I said. It was that I was very happy to be here, and that sadly, it is my time to go, and I hoped that everyone remembers everything.
I let go of the mic and I walk back into the other cars, by now, things have so heavily evolved we have plants growing in every car, mostly food to eat.
But I didn't quite hear anything on the speakers when I made the announcement, so I ask random people if they heard the passenger announcement, but they all reply: “no we didn't hear anything”. So I guess that the microphone didn't work.
I then walk up to my mom. She is playing around with my nephews and nieces in a makeshift playground someone made. I tell her that I really loved everything about it and I hope that she remembers everything, but I am afraid that she won't remember anything. She asked if I will remember anything, and my answer was yes.
I explain to them that them forgetting, but me remembering is some kind of protection mechanism. To make sure that no strange, spiritual secrets about mysterious worlds reveal themselves. Yet that these people like my mum can still feel the positive vibes. Still, a really strange thing to say, but it was how I interpreted it at the time.
I walk back into the other coaches and say goodbye to a few other people that mattered the most to me here since there was no way I could say goodbye to everyone.
I woke up with full closure.
Once I got up, I realized I hit snooze on my alarm clock for maybe about 20 minutes. Which means that this whole thing happened in just 20 minutes. Possibly even less because I wouldn't sleep right away.
And that felt kind of crazy.

Previous Part
“I knew it, I knew he’d pull something like that!”
Was the only thought running through my head as I watched Keith get forced into the truck outside. I was scared for Keith and I was angry, that kind of anger you feel in the pit of your stomach. Not at Keith though, my fury was directed at myself for freezing again. I just sat in the window and watched him get taken. Headache or not I should’ve done something, anything! Instead I just sat there and watched, powerless as always. My first instinct was to go running back home, maybe Frank and Stein could help somehow. Imagine my surprise when I walked in the door and they were looking for me. Well maybe I wasn’t to surprised, I hadn’t told them I didn’t plan on coming back home when I left yesterday.
“Bianca! We were just going to come looking for you, Keith had this idea and… are you alright?”
Frank asked, concern covering his face like a shadow. I must’ve looked like a mess, and the hot wet feeling on my face told me I’d started crying at some point on my way over as well.
“Are you ok? Did something happen?”
Frank repeated in his best fatherly voice. I could barley stammer out the words.
“Keith… gone… they took him.”
My babbling was enough though, realization shown on both their faces. Stein said something to Frank that I couldn’t hear then they nodded to each other.
“He was almost spot on with the timing. Well we best start getting around to do our part then.”
Stein said in his usual uncaring and mildly haughty manner. I don’t know why but it really boiled my blood this time. Keith was gone and he’s just moving on with things?
“Does no-one care about what just happened?! We agreed to look out for him and what did we do? Nothing!”
I screamed at no-one in particular. Those two just gave me a look like I was a misbehaving child.
“We’ve done what we could Bianca, besides Keith is the one who suggested what we’re about to do next.”
Frank stated, in an even and calm tone that made me stop and realize how ridiculous I was acting. Freaking out wouldn’t get us anywhere, even though I really wanted to. So I took a deep breath and stepped back for a second to collect myself.I hated to admit it but in a way their cold, calculating, order of operations approach would probably help here. Those two would never crack under pressure like me. While they didn’t talk about it, I’m sure they’d seen far worse working with the government.
Stein was rushing around looking for car keys when I came back into the kitchen. Frank however, stopped what he was doing to come over to me. I held up my hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to say something.
“No, you don’t have to try and convince me, I’ll come with you. What was Keith’s plan anyways? What did he put you guys up to?”
I asked, much calmer than before but still a little on edge. I couldn’t help but to feel at least a little responsible for what happened to Keith. I know it wasn’t my fault but I came with him for a reason. As much fun as last night had been I wasn’t taking it seriously. I should’ve stayed up to watch for Shaoni, maybe looked around for something she left when she was there before. Regardless, I had to be better next time.
“Keith thought that maybe someone from the reservation a little while outside town may have heard legends about Shaoni. She’s the Thunderbird, that’s an important figure in their stories and legends. Being so close to where she had been sleeping for years he thought there might be a connection. So he asked us to go out and ask around.”
Stein answered me before Frank had a chance to, walking into the room and tossing a jacket my way.
“And put this on, its cold out there.”
It was actually funny how often Stein tried to care and actually came off as so much colder. Almost like he was doing it because he had to, not because he actually cared about me.
“Don’t mind him, he’s just stressed with everything going on lately.”
Frank explained, trying to comfort me. He was right of course, but it didn’t change the fact that it still rubbed me the wrong way.
Ten minutes later I was in the car headed out toward the reservation. It wasn’t a very eventful ride and the pine trees didn’t make for great scenery, I’d seen it all before anyways. Frank and Stein were quiet the whole time and we couldn’t find Rocco before we left. Part of me wondered where he was and part of me didn’t want to know. This gave my mind time to wander and I found myself thinking my life before meeting Frank and Stein. It was weird, I usually tried not to think about it at all but something had brought those memories roaring back. Probably due to Keith asking about it the other day. No-one ever seemed to care about that, my past that is. Every now and then I’d get bored and wander around town. Someone might come up to me and talk but not like Keith did. The only real questions they asked were usually something along the lines of “What’re you doing tonight?” And other variations of that. They were usually looking for something I had no interest in. Sometimes it wasn’t entirely their choice to talk to me. I’d just use my powers simply to have a conversation with someone. Keith actually cared about me though, at least I think so.
A loud honk broke me out of my trance, we had arrived on the reservation. The improvised trailer park we’d arrived in wasn’t much to look at. A dog or two ran around the cluttered ground, free from any sort of leash. An older car missing most of the front end sat raised on a few blocks of concrete. The trailers themselves were run down and rusted. Despite the sorry sight of the place three men sat around a fire, laughing and generally having a great time. The trio looked up as we walked over, recognition passing over their faces. We must’ve looked out of place here in our shiny SUV and Frank and Stein’s three piece suits. Those two were always overdressed when they went out. The only place they fit in was the lab and they seemed more than fine with that.
“Stein! Is that you?”
Exclaimed the man on the left, standing to meet us. He looked happy to see Stein, though I had never seen the guy before in my life. Which meant he must’ve been a friend from before I knew Stein.
“My friend! How have you been? Have you had any difficulties with your… condition.”
Stein replied, cutting his eyes at the other two men like he didn’t trust them.
“They know old friend, no need to beat around the bush here.”
He had to have some supernatural abilities, that’s the only way Stein knew anyone. The question was, what was he?
The man’s name was Sam, Frank told me as we joined the men at the fire. I asked him for more, like what he meant by condition but he wouldn’t budge. Condition usually meant supernatural but a lot of them just looked like normal people. I’m sure everyone has some picture of a succubus in their head and I’m… not that. So I couldn’t even begin to guess at what Sam’s “condition” was.
“So what brings you out here Stein? I hate to say it, but I never expected to see you again.”
Sam said, trying to be as friendly as possible while ultimately telling Stein he didn’t really want him here. He didn’t feel nervous, that much I sensed for sure. No, it was fear that drove him to try and push Stein away, but what did he have to be afraid of?
“I assure you I’ll be gone before I overstay my welcome. I just have a few questions I’d like answers to. It’s entirely possible that you know nothing as well, in which case I’ll be gone even sooner. But you wouldn’t lie to me just to see me gone, now would you?”
Stein almost threatened, some of the friendliness slipping out of his voice. There was more going on here than what I could see or even sense. I’ve got a really good sense of what people are feeling at any given time but the context of those feelings can get lost on me. Sam was feeling fear, way too much fear for the situation. Maybe he knew what Stein was going to ask but I couldn’t tell for sure. I looked to the two scientists, cutting my eyes from Frank to Stein trying to see if they wanted me to step in and calm them down.
“Stein… I can’t… if she knew I talked to you she’d come here. The things I’ve done… what you helped me stop doing. She wouldn’t see it that way if she came here… she would…”
Sam blubbered out, completely losing his composure before Stein raised a hand and cut him off.
“She? You mean Shaoni, we’re aware of what’s going on. We still do have some questions about her though, ones I hope you have answers to.”
At the mention of her name all three men shot up, so I stepped forward. Frank protested but he was to slow to stop me. It’s difficult to describe how I can make people do what I want, these days I just kind of will it to happen and it does. I can force an emotion, or a feeling onto someone else by imagining it myself and projecting it onto them. Frank and Stein think it has something to do with pheromones my body produces. These pheromones can induce certain emotions or feelings if I want them too. In this case I wanted these men to feel tired, cooperative, compliant, and that’s just what they became. Just as soon as they tried to stand they buckled to their knees. I was pushing a little to hard so I eased up a bit, I didn’t want to just put them to sleep or something. Sam got back to his feet and sat down in his chair as the others did the same.
“I’d like to know about Shaoni, The full story, as much as you know.”
I commanded more than asked Sam as he just nodded towards me, a vacant look in his eyes.
“Where should I start exactly little lady?”
Sam asked me, his tone a mix of nervous and compliant.
“I want to know what you know about her, all of it, then we’ll go.”
I answered, trying to ignore the looks Frank and Stein were giving me. They knew I was taking a risk, he didn’t want to share what he knew so I was forcing it out of him. He wanted to tell me now but it wasn’t really “him”. I was in his head, and while he wasn’t going to fight me on anything now, I was sure a part of him was screaming deep down. Fighting desperately to keep his mouth shut to avoid the consequences of telling me anything. I tried not to think about what I was doing to him as Sam began his story.
“Well to start her name wasn’t always Shaoni, It’s hard to keep one name when you’ve lived as long as her. Her name meant “Stormcaller” as near as it translates to your language. She was an elder in a long forgotten tribe in what you know as Canada today. She was renowned for her ability to over see trials and solve debates among her people, always able to set right apart from wrong. The exact name and place of her tribe have been lost to the ages but I do know that it was wiped out. As the story goes the tribe met its end at the hands of “explorers”, all save for Stormcaller were killed. She fled far into the forests and eventually stumbled upon four spirits, the original Thunderbirds. At this time they were still great spirits, created by Nanabozho. Those spirits took pity on Stormcaller, allowing her to live with them in the four corners of the world. With them she learned many things, how to fight, how to think as only a spirit can, and most of all she sharpened her already formidable sense of justice. That need to see justice done, and the proper sense to see what was right from what was wrong is what lead the chief of the Thunderbird spirits to bind itself to her, giving her the powers she’s said to have today, letting her exist as spirit and man made one.
The other Thunderbird spirits eventually followed this example, choosing representatives of their own, each representing an Ideal: Courage, so that our people would never falter in the face of adversity. Solidarity, so that, divided as they may be at times our people were one at heart. Duty, so that our people would never forget their place in the world and the customs and traditions we upheld. Finally there was Justice to lead them all, so that no wrong would be left to stand, and so that one among the ideals would keep the rest in check. These four formed a council that watched over our people for many years.
As imperialism grew in the world and more crimes were committed against their people this council became more and more warlike. Often Stormcaller, now simply known as Justice spearheaded these actions. She sought to right the wrongs committed against her people and hold all responsible accountable for their actions. In accordance with her duties as the embodiment of justice for our people. This war of hers would prove to be her downfall, every day her sense of justice became more absolute, more black and white. She stopped consulting the council to help guide her decisions, believing she and she alone knew what was best for her people and fellow ideals. One thing that changed when the Thunderbird spirits bound themselves was their immutability. As a spirt nothing could harm them, they were eternal, they were and always would be. But once they had become one with a man they could be ended, They would live forever but man’s mortality meant they could be killed unlike before. Something Justice would learn for herself in time.
As her warlike nature grew, Justice began to involve the ideals in open conflict with those who sought to take their peoples land and desecrate their way of life. Eventually Solidarity fell in battle, and those who saw him fall learned of the greater forces at play. These people sought to learn the truth of the power the had seen from Solidarity and doubled their intrusions into sacred land, searching for answers. Suddenly the hunters had become the hunted, perhaps if Justice had not clung so tightly to her convictions everything would’ve ended differently. Instead Justice doubled down on her pursuit to right every wrong she could lay her eyes upon, spurred on by the death of Solidarity. Eventually Courage fell and so to did Duty, only hardening Justice’s resolve. It was only when she revealed herself to her people one day and they fled from her, afraid of what she would do. Afraid that they to had committed some wrong that she sought to right in her own violent way. This reception forced Justice to realize what she had allowed herself to become. Justice had become Vengeance, lost in anger for wrongs she could never hope to right she had lost herself, becoming something else entirely.
She shed her name, her duties, her people and disappeared into the world. Watching what would come for her people broke her. She had lost what she sought to guide and guard, let the people the Thunderbird spirits sought to protect so long ago fall to ruin. Her need to see justice done never left her, but what was once a raging inferno became nothing more than a spark. If she came across one that had escaped justice, hidden their tracks or found a way out she would know. She would right the smaller wrongs of the world in her own way, stoking what remained of the flame within and finding her own purpose in the world. Eventually she would take on a new name, Shaoni, why I do not know but it is what she choose. Her sense of justice was still absolute, she saw no shades of grey just right and wrong. But the scale of her judgment was reduced, no longer would she try and right every wrong the world had to offer but only those she could reach. The world is a dark place though, and sometimes a lesser evil can ease pain. Shaoni didn’t see lesser evil as something she could abide and so her judgements often left more pain in their place. She grew weary of her pursuit once again, seeing how little she had changed and how much pain she had brought. She chose to settle down and remove herself from the world. Shaoni would never be able to die, not from the passing of time. She could remove herself from the equation in a cave not to far from where we stand now.”
Sam’s story hurt to listen too, in some ways it only seemed like Shaoni did what she thought was right. Yet time and time again she failed to see shades of grey, and that cost her everything. It made me think of who I was years ago in a way, not that I was some all powerful spirit thing like her but still. What would Shaoni think of the person I was? How would she judge me for my actions before I meet Frank and Stein? I certainly wasn’t a saint, but did that mean I couldn’t be better? I shook my head, now wasn’t the time to think of things like that. I stopped forcing Sam to answer my question, leaving him to his own devices. There was always some lingering effects after I… did my thing. I’m not sure how exactly it felt for them but I don’t imagine it was pleasant. Realizing you weren’t really in control of yourself has a way of causing issues for a person. Sam seemed to be shaking it off pretty well though, I’d seen worse things happen after I’d finished with someone, like Keith losing hours of time sitting in the kitchen. Playing with emotions can cause stress in the brain, especially since I’m forcing an emotion or feeling on them. More than once I’d seen someone left with uncontrollable swings in mood or a complete lack of emotion or feeling of any sort because of me. I hopped that wasn’t going to happen again here.
“Bianca what was that!”
Frank complained, finally breaking free of the spell the situation had cast over him. He ran over to the other two men that hadn’t gotten up from their chairs like Sam. Worry crashed over me like a wave as I realized why Frank sounded so concerned. One of the men was seizing on the ground, his body shaking violently as spasms coursed through him, had I done that? Sam was in a blissfully ignorant sate, he just sat in his chair watching the fire, unaware of what was happening to his friend. Frank and Stein leapt into action, holding the seizing man on the ground. Stein pulled off his belt and placed it in the mans mouth, trying to keep him from biting himself. My eyes were fixed on the third man who lay motionless on the ground. I took small steady steps toward him, hoping against hope that I could find a pulse. As I got closer I realized his chest was rising and falling. He was alive but who knew what he was going through right now. I felt distant, Frank was yelling something at me but I didn’t catch a word. I had to do it right? I had to make them tell us what they knew, it could help Keith right?
“What did you do to them?”
Sam asked me, apparently free of the aftereffects of my influence. I snapped my head to the side and watched him take a threatening step towards me. I backed away, afraid he might do something rash. I shouldn’t have done that, Stein could’ve convinced them on his own.
“What did you do to them? What’s wrong with them?”
Sam asked again, his voice growing more desperate. Stein picked that moment to appear at my side.
“Sam they’ll be ok just give them a minute. She didn’t mean to hurt you or your friends, just let it go. I’m helping her the same way I helped you, she’s not always in control.”
Sam softened a little bit at that but he was still wary of me. What Stein said was a lie, I had control of my abilities most of the time these days but Sam didn’t know that. Frank walked over to where we were standing with a relieved look on his face.
“They’ll be alright, they just need rest. What about you, are you feeling alright Sam?”
Frank asked, nodding towards him. Sam didn’t answer but it was plain to see he was doing far better than his friends.
“I’d like you all to leave.”
Sam ordered, putting his metaphorical foot down. Whatever favor he owed Stein didn’t matter anymore, he wanted us out. People were beginning to come out of some of the other trailers, gawking at the scene in front of them. As the three of us were leaving Sam said one more thing,
“Stein, this makes us even.”
He growled in an even but angry tone. You could just tell he was staring daggers at us the whole way back to the SUV. I turned back for a moment and I could’ve sworn his skin was wriggling and changing. Like he was just barley holding back something. What concerned me even more was what he felt, not anger or worry, but fear.
The ride back was less than pleasant. You know that feeling when you’ve done something wrong but no one really wants to address it yet? Yeah, that’s what was going on here, the air was practically electric.
“We needed him to talk…”
Stein cut me off immediately, shouting,
“Sometimes you don’t need to help! Look… I know you meant well but you can hurt people with that power of yours. I’ve never seen it that bad before but then again you’ve never done it to a group of people that long. Who knows what longterm consequences it might have. Just… be more careful in the future.”
Stein wasn’t as angry as he tried to appear, part off him was even relived, maybe because I had been the one to handle the situation instead of him.
“I know, I know its just… Keith is stuck out there at that mine with her, I couldn’t leave with nothing.”
I agreed, He was right, it was a risk but how could I have just let it be? No-one else was going to look out for him so that fell on us now. As much as I hated having to force things out of people I was good at it, really good. Despite how I felt about what I could do to people that was the easiest way to get Sam to speak back there.
“Where did this whole drive to help Keith come from anyways? A few days ago you talk him into watching the house and throw some money, our money, at him for the trouble. I’ve seen you do that a few times before with others so you could come with us when we went to stock up on things. Regardless of our misgivings surrounding your methods. So it didn’t go that well this time and he found out about you and us. Something like that was bound to happen eventually. What I can’t picture is why you go out of your way to help him. I don’t personally have any issue with you jumping to his defense. Its not too hard to understand why someone would, considering his situation. But for you, well it seems out of character for you.”
Frank chimed in with a question of his own. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it hurt to see him so surprised that I’d consider helping another person.
I never answered Frank’s question, I thought about it a lot the rest of the way back though. Why was I so intent on helping Keith? All my life I’d done things just to survive, even when I was really young I had to find a way to get by on my own. Sure I had my mother but she had her hands full with her own life. She didn’t have much after my father left and did everything she could to make ends meet. I just tried to stay out of her way and help where I could. I never complained when she forgot to make dinner, or when there just wasn’t food around the house. I’d just go without or take what I needed from someone else. Even back then I knew it was wrong but I always had looks on my side. Combine that with pity and not a lot of people would say no to the cute hungry kid. After Brooke, I only had myself and I just kept doing what I needed to. This was different though, I didn’t have to help Keith but I wanted to help him all the same. I didn’t get around town much and I always felt like I just existed around Frank and Stein. With Keith I wasn’t just this thing lying around the house, I was a person, a friend even. That was it, the first time it really clicked for me, Keith was my friend, not because I had wanted him to be or because I made him think he was. No, he was actually there for me and it was all his choice. I didn’t have to puppet him around myself, he actually wanted to be there. I didn’t have to wonder if it was just me and everything I could do pulling him in. For the first time in years someone had actually cared enough to ask about me, Frank and Stein never really did because they knew how much it hurt. Keith didn’t know how much it hurt to talk about but still. I needed to actually talk about all that happened to me with someone who listened for real.
Coming to that realization only made me want to do something stupid. Like run up to that mine and try to get Keith out of there myself. But that’s exactly what it was, stupid. If we wanted to get Keith back we’d need something better than just me. We’d need a real plan, one I’d just started thinking of. There was something else eating at me to. Keith had offered to take some burden from Shaoni back in Imalone, I had an idea what it might be and it scared me. If I was right well, Keith was in more danger than we all thought.
When we pulled back into the driveway Tuck was waiting at the door.
“Where’ve Y’all been?! I been lookin’ for ya damn near all afternoon! Somein’ happened o’re at Keith’s place, He’s gone. I cain’t find that “lab assistant” of yours neither.”
Tuck said hurriedly, his southern accent that he usually tried to hide seeping out into his words.
“We know, it was those trials he told us about. I presume he told you as well then?”
Stein informed him as he got out of the car and marched towards the door, barely making eye contact. Stein had an idea, I could read it all over him. He got this way when he was away from home and wanted too test something, once he was back there was no standing between him and his lab.
“Yeah, the kid told me something like that. Would explain where all those people were goin’ to. Couple of the regulars in town, ones I know look up to that damn bird, left this morning headin’ towards the old mines.”
Tuck spoke to no one in particular, nodding to himself as if to check off the fact that Keith disappearing and people leaving town were two related things.
“Why don’t you come in then, you might be able to help out with the situation. We just learned a few things about this… “damn bird” of yours. I really would’ve appreciated if you told us about that years ago. Perhaps you’d like to tell us what you know of the Thunderbird in the lab?”
Stein ordered rather than asked, pointing to the door for no more than a moment before continuing on his march to the basement. Frank and I filed in after them but I didn’t join them in the lab.
I looked around the house for Rocco but couldn’t find a trace. It wasn’t like him not to leave some trail of destruction in his wake. Well hidden or not, we usually found evidence of whatever he was up to but this time there was nothing. I had no clue where he’d gotten off to, maybe I was better off not knowing. After I gave up I joined the others in the basement, to their surprise I actually had decided to make an appearance. Frank and Stein were a little rattled at first but soon went back to their work. Tuck just beamed at me proudly, like he knew something I didn’t. We set about comparing notes on Shaoni, and separating fact from fiction based on Frank and Stein’s many years working with the supernatural. It was… nice, in a family bonding kind of way. Keith had brought us all together, gave these scientist a new problem to solve. Gave Tuck a chance for some kind of justice for the friends he’d lost in the mine collapse all those years ago. For me, he’d brought me together with the family I’d fallen in with. Strange as they were, this was my family, or at least the closest thing I had to it. I had to help, not just for Keith but for them. I’d been a burden, scared to go outside, hateful of what I could do despite using it to make life easier for myself. Worst of all I’d been stuck in my own head, I’d gone through awful things, done awful things, used my body and my charm to get through life. I’d been every bit as evil as Brooke had been to me. I did everything he’d done to me to others, only it was so much easier for me to do it. I hate myself for it, maybe I always would, but I couldn’t let that stop me now. I had to set all that aside and be there for the people in my life, I had to be a person again, not just hope everyone would treat me like one.

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

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

Hello everyone
With F1 24 being announced and being copy and paste again (basically just an F1 23 DLC at this point), I thought I'd write this post to maybe, just maybe, help (in any way) the next future F1 games become more realistic, which I think should be the main goal of these games (and also to express my deep disapointment with how the series is going).
Before we begin: this is completely based on my opinion, you don't need to agree with me, specially because I know some stuff may be considered completely delusional, as EA would never implement these things. With that out of the way, it's light out and away we go.
Here are additions/ideas that would turn the F1 game into an incredible experience:

• Cooldown lap and pit lane control: they're kinda the same thing (to an extent) so that's why it's just one topic. It would be very fun to actually drive in the cooldown lap and park the car in the pits, as well as drive the car through the pit lane as we make our stops or serve penalties. It's not something hard to implement, and you could also make it with the option to turn them off, so everyone gets to play the way they want. It would also add realism with stuff such as unsafe release penalties.
• Custom liveries: I cannot stress this enough. Why not let players customize their own liveries and share with the community? This would add a whole new layer to customization and replayability, as we already have in Need for Speed (which is also from EA) and Gran turismo for example. Not hard to do but given the game's history I guess we're not getting this one so soon.
• Preseason testing: this would be very interesting. It could be something like free practice, but bigger. It would help the R&D development before the season actually started, so you could (or not) have a better car. It would also be optional in the career settings.
• Contracts: they do need an overhaul as soon as possible. Driver academies don't actually mean anything. You can literally be a Ferrari academy driver and join Red Bull from the get go, it doesn't make any sense. We need something like IRL, where a team would preferably sign a driver from its own academy. Also there is no performance measurement, it says that "Red Bull expect their drivers to fight for the podium", but even if you don't do this, you can't be fired. I won't even start on the 6 month contract period. Also as a member of a certain team driver academy, it would be very fun to participate in F1 sessions when in F2, to get experience and also boost your image (acclaim, as it's called).
• Custom calendar: another element of replayability and creativity. Let us make a season with many races as we want, in any track order we'd like. A season starting in Abu Dhabi and ending in Australia, for example, would be very fun. It adds variety to the game and makes it so players can keep enjoying career and MyTeam modes without get bored with the same format.
• New tracks: Sepang, Hockenheim, Jerez, India, Korea, Istambul Park... the list goes on. New tracks (not actually new, but you get the idea), combined with custom calendar would make for infinite possibilities in both career and MyTeam. EA can even add them as a DLC post launch if they want to. Another brilliant addition concerning tracks would be different layouts, such as Sakhir outer ring, or even different versions for the tracks as an option, such as pre 2003 Barcelona, for example.
• MyTeam car model: the car model stays the same for all 10 seasons of your MyTeam journey, without a single modification. As the seasons go on, your car gets progressively faster, but it LOOKS exactly the same. R&D improvements don't reflect in the car model at all. It would be nice to have a customizable car, where you can actually change the design to improve aero or brake cooling. IRL we had teams looking to reproduce what Red Bull made with the RB19, and that is a great example of how things could be in game: as the regulations change, different models become better than others, and as you progress with R&D, your car can get closer to what would be the fastest aero design. Minor cosmetic things like different steering wheel models would also be very nice.
• Improved AI: we know that we need better AI behaviour when racing and fighting for position, but the problem goes way beyond that. The AI makes ZERO mistakes in free practice and qualifying, so you can never experience events such as IRL when someone crashes in qualifying and a red flag can decide an unlikely pole sitter. There is also a very old problem that needs to be addressed: the AI doesn't know how to behave in practice when you want to let it overtake you. It just sits there by your side until you decide to go and then follows you. There are no penalties for blocking/impeding in both practice and qualifying.
• MyTeam engine owner: I've seen many people asking for this one and I agree, it would be very fun to have our own engine and be able to supply it to other teams. At the beginning it would be inferior to other engines, but with the possibility of becoming the best later on. We would also be able to supply our engine to other teams and make more money out of that partnership.
• Regulation changes and loopholes: regulation changes (and R&D as a whole) should be more complex than just redeveloping some parts (also because eventually you have so much points that it doesn't even matter anymore). Also loopholes would be an interesting addition, like the DAS system or the F duct (not these exact mechanics, but something like that). They could work as a new development that is so OP that FIA needs to judge whether it's legal or not and whether it will be banned immeadiately or in next season. Any team can develop a loophole, including the AI.
• Crashes: remember when Williams gave Sargeant's car to Albon and he was unable to race? Well this is an extreme example but what if we had something similar in the game? If you crash the car (not minor wall taps, I mean big shunts) the team should take time to fix it and in some cases you may not have the car completely fixed for qualifying, for example (if you happen to crash in FP3). Also big crashes could cause the driver to step away due to injuries and let the reserve driver take his place (this also means that you can now hire a reserve driver in MyTeam).
• Interviews: the interviews are a joke at the moment, they don't even ask questions of things that actually happened during the race (or session), they are random and completely basic. We need questions concerning crashes, race pace, qualifying, post race interview based on how high you finished, market specutalations, etc. The possibilities here are endless.
• Radio and team orders: at the moment the radio is basically useless. The engineer only speaks when you gain/lose a position or when you're near your pit stop. We need more active communication, where he informs us on opponent's pace, our pace, track limits, strategy discussion, and speacially: team orders. It would be very interesting to have our teammate hold someone for us to pull away, give us toe in qualifying, or stay in DRS range for us not to get overtaken. With that said, I think the first issue that needs to be addressed as soon as possible is the pit stop: our teammate ALWAYS double stack and fucks his own strategy. There should be a way to prevent that from happening through communication.
• Formula 2: starting your career in F2 is fun and add realism, but it could go beyond that. Competing in the F2 championship helps you get a seat in F1, depending on your performance: if you perform well you're more likely to get a seat, but if you don't, you may even need to stay for one more season. Also, if you choose not to start in F2, an option could be to have an F1 car test: you would drive a certain team's car and try to impress them, if you do well, you get a seat.

As you guys can see, all these additions would be more oriented towards realism. I addressed changes to career mode and MyTeam, since those are the only modes I really play, but I know that online modes are in need of some changes as well.
Please feel free to comment what you think as well :D

Don't ever become a TL for Walmart, the pay isn't worth it. I was a FETL for 6 months before stepping back down. Besides rude customers, and lazy coworkers here's why I stepped down after only 6 months.
My second day on the job I was working 10-7. We were in a remodel at the time and the closing TL called out. SM comes up to me before I go to lunch and tells me I have to stay to shut down the SCOs on the grocery side at 8. As well as take all the money out and dump it in the recycler as the closer had called out. I told her I didn't know how. She told me the coach was coming at 8 to help. Even though the coach didn't know how to do it. Coach had to call opening TL and to this day I don't think we did everything right.
Back in October a customer made a threat to my associate at the service desk / money center after she refused to do transaction with expired ID and I backed her up. Call for backup from management and let them know we had been threatened and they took their sweet time getting up front. The guy had already left by the time they got up there. Mostly thanks to other customers being there and telling him he needed to leave.
Day before Christmas Eve had a guy wanted to pay a bill. No account came up when I put in his number. Started getting rude when I tried putting him in as a new customer and asked for his ID. Other TL came over as he started getting more and more rude and had the same problem with him. He left and a couple hours later. I was heading outside to check on the parking lot. Guy pulls up in a car and gets out of the passenger side. Guy lets me know he's got his ID. Once he's paid his bill he is coming to find me and hit me.
Find AP associate and let him know. Let's Coach that wasn't mine but up there helping with lines, as well as SM know what was going on. Coach helping us out talks to the guy and he openly admits to threating to assault me once he's done. This coach forces me to help him and then acted like I had done something wrong.

Hey all!
So the premise here is that a young couple are moving in together for the first time, and it's a brief look at their first evening and morning together. I've written it as a girlfriend as this is actually based on real events, but the listener can be anyone. Girlfriend can also be changed to boyfriend if preferable :)
Fine to monetize, just give me credit and link back here :) also, if anyone wants to fill this, awesome!!!
There is a mix of internal and external monologue here. Hope I've kept that clear in the text but, if not, please let me know!
Girlfriend
(knocking on the door)
Hello! Is anyone here? Oh, hi! Sorry I’m a bit late. Took ages to load up the car. Hmm? Sorry, I know you have other clients! Yeah, of course, I’m sure they’re on the way.
(internal, sarcastically)
Well, this estate agent seems lovely. Is she actually going to let me in?
(spoken)
Are we okay to wait inside? I think it’s going to rain. Thankyou…
(internal)
I still can’t believe we’re doing this! I hope I haven’t brought too much stuff. They said they’re barely bringing anything! Oh, this place looks a little dusty! Floor’s a bit messy! I’ll have to give it a clean. God, I hope they don’t lose patience with me. Their room at home always seems so tidy, but I know their mum is a bit of a clean freak too.
(spoken)
Sorry? Yeah, this is our first place together. We’ve been going out for three years and I just got a new job, so we figured why not? Renting for now, but hoping to buy a place in a year or two.
(internal)
If they don’t run a mile after living with me for a few weeks. I’m okay to live with, right? My housemates didn’t have an issue at [insert Uni or college, depending on location]. Oh god, what if…
(spoken)
Sorry, I’m here now. Oh yeah, I remember I really liked this kitchen! New oven, cool! Tell the landlord thanks! Yeah, I may as well start signing everything whilst we wait. I’m really sure they won’t be much longer.

The sound of knocking.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Oh, that’ll be them now! Come up! We’re just in the kitchen. Hey!
(internal)
Ah man, I still get jittery when they smile at me like that! I still can’t believe we’re doing this. I know we spend all our weekends and most evenings together but it is going to be different, actually living together. We need to get a joint account set up, we’re going to need to go shopping ASAP – there’s literally nothing in! The internet people better turn up tomorrow! I’ve only got [speaker to insert their favourite show] boxsets for us to watch and I’m not sure that’s their thing…
(spoken)
Sorry, I was miles away. So we both sign here? Oh, rules? Okay?
(internal)
Gosh, do they think we’re going to be throwing mad parties every week? We’re not kids! Security deposit? We know this already! Ah, I shouldn’t be so harsh. She’s just doing her job. But does she have to act like we’re planning on burning the place down? Oh, one year’s tenancy? No early release? Eeesh, what if they don’t want to stay… oh wow, they signed really quickly!
(spoken)
Thankyou. I don’t think I have any questions. Do you?
(internal)
There’s that smile again. They look so excited! I hope they’re not as nervous as me. Oh, she’s leaving. Good.
(spoken)
Well, here we are. Just the two of us now. No… second thoughts? No, of course not! All my stuff’s outside, is yours? Shall we get it all in first and then think about where everything is going to go? Oh, your dad’s given us that TV? Fantastic! Think my laptop might be about to die!

Around half an hour later…

Girlfriend
(spoken, sounds out of breath)
Okay! Big pile of stuff. Least we got it in.
(internal)
How do they only have like three suitcases? I couldn’t even fit everything in my car!
(spoken)
I knew I shouldn’t have brought so many books! No idea where we’re going to put them. And the bathroom really is small! I know we said we didn’t mind, but…

Sound of a kiss.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
I love you too. Sorry, I’m overthinking things again. How are you feeling? I know! Still can’t quite believe we have our own place. We really needed it. I swear my dad was deliberately being annoying half the time. Always banging around downstairs! Shush, I’m not just like him! He’ll be okay. He’s got mum. I guess it must be weird with all your kids gone.
(internal)
Dad was so great about everything. Maybe I should have let him come help us move in, but I kind of wanted this to just be us.
(spoken)
Yeah, let’s take a proper look around.
(internal)
I need to chill. This place is really nice, especially for the price. I love the living room. Still can’t believe the sofa and chairs came with the flat. The sofa looks so comfortable. I can’t wait for us to snuggle up on there. They even left a little reading lamp in the corner! I hope they don’t mind if I want to just read some nights. They didn’t really seem to before, but now it’s just us all the time…
Ahhh, I wish the bathroom was bigger! The shower’s a bit ancient. I dunno if we’d both fit in… shit, now they can see me blushing, great! Let’s move out of here quickly!
Really good cupboard space for a small bedroom. I’ve got so many clothes though. I may need to use some of their space as well! Dad was right. I should have had a clear out before I came.
(spoken, laughing)
Don’t jump on the bed like that! Because it’s all tidy! Yeah, I know nobody’s coming round today, but… I am chilled! Wait, what? Okay, fine, I’ll try it out. Yeah, it is very comfy.
(internal)
They smell so good today. I love it when they wear this. I don’t even know what it is. Guess I’ll be seeing it in the bathroom, so I know what to get them for their birthday.

Sound of kissing.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Are you happy we’ve done this?
(internal)
It’s weird how right this feels. I know it’s just the two of us here now, and I don’t feel nervous. This is just so cool.
(spoken)
What? Let you show me? How… oh….

Sound of kissing and giggling.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Hey you. We have a lot of unpacking to… oh, you’re so mean.

More kissing.

Girlfriend
(internal)
I love it when they stroke my hair like this. Okay, pinning my hands above my head. That’s… new. Kinda like it though. It is so good that nobody can possibly disturb us. We can literally do anything we want to! Okay, my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Typical.
(spoken)
Okay, we can, ohhh…
(internal)
I could get used to this.

The next morning…

Girlfriend
(internal)
What time is it? Must be getting late, it’s so bright in here. We need better curtains! This bed is so comfy though. I must have fallen asleep so quickly last night. Urgh, I’m so groggy in the morning. Wait, where are they? Can I hear noises in the kitchen? And what’s that smell? Oh, they must be cooking something. Bless them. I’m still so full from last night. It was so awesome to just have the night together in our own place! They’re getting better at cooking. I’ll need to make us something tonight.
I better get up soon. It’s just so warm in here. Ah, I need the bathroom. I still feel a bit awkward about that, but they’re so lovely about it. I’ll just sneak in now…
(spoken)
Oh hey! I thought you were in the kitchen. Oh, what you carrying? Wow, breakfast in bed! Thanks!

Sound of eating.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Oh man, this is so good! When did you become a Michelin Chef? Your mum usually cooks for us!
(internal)
How do they look so awesome even though they’ve just woke up? I bet I look a right mess. Ah, there’s that smile again.
(spoken)
What? Haha, pull the other one. If there’s one thing I look like now, it isn’t beautiful. Have you seen my hair? Looks like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. Okay, now you’re just teasing me! I guess I better get dressed in a sec. How long you been up? An hour? You’ve been trying to build the TV stand? How’s that gone? Oh…
(internal)
Bless them. They really aren’t very good at DIY. Good thing the landlord should take care of any repairs we need. My bookshelf should arrive today. Might be better to get Dad to come help us with that. If they’re not offended.
(spoken)
Okay, I am full! That was awesome though, thankyou! I’ll cook tonight. Unless you wanted to try that takeaway we saw round the corner… haha, you really know me so well.

Sound of kissing.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
Okay, I’ll jump in the shower then I’ll come and help you! There’s something I wanted to give you as well. I meant to last night but by the time we got everything unpacked I forgot! It’s in my bag, hold on, I’ll get it.
(internal)
They’re so cute. I can see them checking me out. Don’t know what’s so hot about these pyjamas. They’re like three years old and literally have super-heroes on them. Oh god, why did I wear… no, I can’t keep overthinking this stuff. Not if we’re going to live together.
(spoken)
Here it is! I got it custom made. Open it.

Sound of ripping paper.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
It’s that picture I took of you and Bounce a few years back. Remember, for one of our first dates you took me for a walk in the forest with her? We almost lost her when she tried to chase after a bird? I know you’re going to miss her living here, so I thought you’d like a picture of her. I’d say she could come round any time, but I don’t think we’re allowed pets.
(internal)
Ah man, I hope this is okay. They really love that dog and I know it was hard on them to leave them.
(spoken)
You love it? Of course, you’re welcome! I love you too.

Sound of kissing.

Girlfriend
(spoken)
You know I over think everything and I’m a little, well, full-on sometimes, but I just want you to know I’m so happy we’ve done this. I can’t wait for, well, everything! You mean the world to me, and I’m so happy you want to live with me.
(pause, then spoken)
Here’s to the next forever!

Day one Pixel 8 Pro owner here. Thought I’d share my experience, after over 8 months of ownership.
P8P Bay 256GB has been my daily driver since its release. I use it with 5G on, screen at full resolution, dynamic "smooth display" refresh rate is on, no bluetooth or tethering. Brightness left on auto.
TLDR :
Positives = camera quality, great design, OS (with some caveats), great screen (some caveats too)
Negatives = everything else
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Camera : beautiful imagery has always been the signature of the Pixel line, and this release is no exception. Every shot has this mesmerizing "Pixel touch", and the new ultrawide sensor is finally on par with the main unit. Videos are world class too, not quite on the level of the iPhone but we'll get there eventually.
Beautiful and unique design : It's sitting in a clear case, and in a sea of generic, boring slabs, it really stands out and doesn't go unnoticed. People often ask me what kind of phone it is, most are still not aware that Google is making smartphones and has been doing so for almost a decade now.
Very long software support : Seven years of updates is unrivaled in the Android scene, albeit with the following you’ll understand no one would willingly keep this phone seven years, so it’s not really a positive.
Sleek OS : Android in its purest, cleanest form. Customization galore. However as I'll mention later this pure android is NOT running smoothly, so I don't know if this count as a positive.
Gorgeous OLED panel : A truly beautiful display, high-resolution, good brightness..unfortunately plagued by mutiple lags and frame drops in the UI, I'll get back to that. Now onto the negatives.
First off, we must address the elephant in the room. Battery life. This phone charges PAINFULLY slow and discharges EXTREMELY fast. The opposite of what you want, right ?
The 10 minutes top ups to 50% is a concept Google seemingly never heard of. You want half a charge ? Better sit & wait half an hour. Full charge ? Go watch a movie. Now the discharge, and this is where the real drama clocks in. This phone EATS battery, ON IDLE.
On your average 9 to 5 workday (no camera, no games, just basic apps) you’ll head home with 15% tops. Phone dead by 7pm, then full charge will eat 90 minutes off your schedule, better not be in a hurry.
Now try to make a bit of power usage out of your power user phone : A bit of pictures for work at 10am, a short 4K video at 1pm, a bit of Fallout Shelter on the toilet at 2pm. You’re now looking at a 4pm shutdown.
But let’s go real on the camera, after all this is a camera flagship and it should be your reliable companion on a field day. Starting at 10 am : pictures, videos, a bit of editing, about 40 pictures taken and 3 videos of 10 minutes each. Shutdown at 1PM.
The CPU just eats battery on IDLE doing NOTHING. Throw anything heavy at it and you’ll head home with a dead phone, one that died long before your day was over. Simple as that.
Keep in mind that this is my experience with a 8-months-old device, and it will get worse and worse as the battery cell degrades over time. One can only wonder how many cell replacements this phone will need to get to the end of its famed software support.
Now we need to talk UI and animations because this isn’t good either. Stellar 120hz OLED panel and stock android should be a recipe for smoothness, but not here. Actually, some animations including the cool lock screen clock are barely 60hz. Switching apps isn’t 120hz either, nor is scrolling. A TON of lags and various frame drops, resulting in a framerate like 40-90hz, never stable, with the occasional but very rare peak at 120. This isn't TW3 gameplay on a potato but simply browing menus and scrolling instagram on a 2023, 1159€ flagship phone from Google.
This phone FEELS slow, and yet consume an enormous amount of power to do so. Infuriating.
One day I had to handle a coworker’s A54 to tweak a few things. I was SHOCKED by the smoothness, this was indeed true 120hz, which only happens a few times a day on Pixel 8 Pro. I realized what I was missing on by handling an Exynos mid-ranger. I understand the need for a dynamic framerate, not locked at 120hz all the time to save battery. But only reaching 120hz 5 times a day and still having a mediocre battery life wasn’t what I had in mind.
Finally, the optical, under-display fingerprint scanner. This, my friends, is an antique piece of hardware that belongs to a museum. Remember the Huawei Mate RS from 2018 ? One of the first phones with UDFS. The optical technology was so experimental and unreliable (still is, most OEMs moved on to ultrasonic) that Huawei also included another optical fingerprint sensor on the back of the device, just in case. Well, this ancient tech is what you have on the Pixel 8 Pro, and no optical sensor backup in sight.
Sometimes, it can take up to 2 full seconds of contact to….successfully fail to unlock. After it fails 3 times or so, it will ask you to enter your password, making one-hand unlocks a luck job. Sometimes it will successfully unlock after a couple tries, but a couple tries of 2 seconds each makes unlocking your phone a 4 seconds job which is just painfully slow. The occasional one tap magic is as rare as the occasional 120hz peak in the UI. As for face-unlock, I know it's there but I disabled it because it doesn't work in the dark (no IR sensor) and I simply want to unlock my phone at waist height, without having to raise it to my face.
Pixel 8 Pro remembers me of an exotic sports car that might look incredibly cool from a distance but is actually a pain to live with on a daily basis. And indeed it does look incredibly cool. I remember seeing this phone as a much better pick than the generic Galaxy and the boring iPhone, but I’d rather go boring or generic than having to handle this mess of an hardware Google sold me for 1159€.
TLDR : Positives = Camera quality, great design Negatives = everything else

Full disclosure, I'm just a customer, I don't own a shipping company and no one paid me for this review. I am in Florida and I purchased a car in Washington a month ago. 2 weeks ago it was finally available for pick up so I contacted Montway as they provided the most reasonable price of all the companies I got estimates from, I was charged $230 upfront and $1270 cash on delivery. A carrier was dispatched 3 days after my order was placed, smooth up to now. My car was picked up 3 days after that by a carrier named "Fifth Wheel"; no heads up call, no tracking provided, and no updates on when exactly pickup would be taking place. I had to ask for an estimate time range because neither Montway nor Fifth Wheel provided this. My car was then delivered a full 7 days after pickup and this is where the major problems arose. I was given a heads up text the night before arrival that my car will be arriving the next day a short time after noon, but that it would be getting dropped off almost an hour away from the agreed upon drop off location at a Pilot Truck Stop. Now, the contract states that the driver WILL drop the car off at the CLOSEST commercially feasible location to your door. I was willing to concede that my residential area wasn't the most commercially feasible for a car drop off so I provided a location of my own, a Love's Truck Stop right on the same exact highway that the carrier suggested initially, just that it was 10 minutes away not 45. The trucker responded by passively aggressively sending me the same address he suggested previously. I called Montway to solve this issue and was told the driver can not come closer because he was claiming there are low trees, a blatant lie of course as the address provided has no trees around and the path to said address is a straight shot down a highway that has no trees. I told the Montway representative all of this and suggested that if I am to pick up an hour away from the agreed location, I will need a discount. His response was that my price was already low so a discount doesn't make sense. That genuinely blew my mind. The next day came and it was delivery day, I had to miss work due to the vague timing provided. I contacted the driver to confirm drop off location and time and I got no response. I called Montway and they once again told me the drop off was an hour away with no concrete time or discount. At this point I was furious at the unprofessional nature of the company and the representatives, at one point I spoke with one that actually agreed that the driver needs to come down to the address I provided and after a brief hold I was told the driver has refused to deliver at the location I requested and that Montway can't do anything about it. Excuse me? You're telling me you contracted this carrier to do a job that you promised me would be done one way and now you're completely powerless with how that job gets done? I was baffled. This all went on for hours upon hours with me citing the terms of service and them being worthless in swaying the driver. At one point the driver called me angrily, barely speaking English, suggesting he will not drop off my car anymore and will be leaving it in Orlando, 2 hours from my location. It was around 4pm by this time so I was exhausted, I hung up on him and called Montway explaining the situation. I was finally patched through to a supervisor and the supervisor told me they will take care of everything and give me a discount of $150. With this discount I accepted the adjusted drop off and waited for the car to come. It arrived at 8pm, much later than the "after noon" that was promised by the carrier. In the end, the job was done and it was an ultimately fair price. But the service is among the absolute worst I've ever had to deal with, if you don't want the headache, spend a couple hundred extra.
TLDR: Montway sucks and was completely powerless in controlling their carriers or forcing them to follow contract.

Day one Pixel 8 Pro owner here. Thought I’d share my experience, after almost 8 months of ownership.
P8P Bay 256GB has been my daily driver since its release. I use it with 5G on, screen at full resolution, dynamic "smooth display" refresh rate is on, no bluetooth or tethering. Brightness left on auto.
TLDR : Positives = Camera quality, great design & display, OS (with some caveats) Negatives = everything else
The positives :
Camera : beautiful imagery has always been the signature of the Pixel line, and this release is no exception. Every shot has this mesmerizing "Pixel touch", and the new ultrawide sensor is finally on par with the main unit. Videos are world class too, not quite on the level of the iPhone but we'll get there eventually.
Beautiful and unique design : It's sitting in a clear case, and in a sea of generic, boring slabs, it really stands out and doesn't go unnoticed. People often ask me what kind of phone it is, most are still not aware that Google is making smartphones and has been doing so for almost a decade now.
Very long software support : Seven years of updates is unrivaled in the Android scene, albeit with the following you’ll understand no one would willingly keep this phone seven years, so it’s not really a positive.
World class display : stellar QHD 120hz panel, sharp and bright.
Sleek OS : Android in its purest, cleanest form. Customization galore. However as I'll mention later this pure android is NOT running smoothly, so I don't know if this count as a positive. Now onto the negatives.
First off, we must address the elephant in the room. Battery life. This phone charges PAINFULLY slow and discharges EXTREMELY fast. The opposite of what you want, right ?
The 10 minutes top ups to 50% is a concept Google seemingly never heard of. You want half a charge ? Better sit & wait half an hour. Full charge ? Go watch a movie. Now the discharge, and this is where the real drama clocks in. This phone EATS battery, ON IDLE.
On your average 9 to 5 workday (no camera, no games, just basic apps) you’ll head home with 15% tops. Phone dead by 7pm, then full charge will eat 90 minutes off your schedule, better not be in a hurry.
Now try to make a bit of power usage out of your power user phone : A bit of pictures for work at 10am, a short 4K video at 1pm, a bit of Fallout Shelter on the toilet at 2pm. You’re now looking at a 4pm shutdown.
But let’s go real on the camera, after all this is a camera flagship and it should be your reliable companion on a field day. Starting at 10 am : pictures, videos, a bit of editing, about 40 pictures taken and 3 videos of 10 minutes each. Shutdown at 1PM.
The CPU just eats battery on IDLE doing NOTHING. Throw anything heavy at it and you’ll head home with a dead phone, one that died long before your day was over. Simple as that.
Keep in mind that this is my experience with a 8-months-old device, and it will get worse and worse as the battery cell degrades over time. One can only wonder how many cell replacements this phone will need to get to the end of its famed software support.
Now we need to talk UI and animations because this isn’t good either. Stellar 120hz OLED panel and stock android should be a recipe for smoothness, but not here. Actually, some animations including the cool lock screen clock are barely 60hz. Switching apps isn’t 120hz either, nor is scrolling. A TON of lags and various frame drops, resulting in a framerate like 40-90hz, never stable, with the occasional but very rare peak at 120. This isn't TW3 gameplay on a potato but simply browing menus and scrolling instagram on a 2023, 1159€ flagship phone from Google.
This phone FEELS slow, and yet consume an enormous amount of power to do so. Infuriating.
One day I had to handle a coworker’s A54 to tweak a few things. I was SHOCKED by the smoothness, this was indeed true 120hz, which only happens a few times a day on Pixel 8 Pro. I realized what I was missing on by handling an Exynos mid-ranger. I understand the need for a dynamic framerate, not locked at 120hz all the time to save battery. But only reaching 120hz 5 times a day and still having a mediocre battery life wasn’t what I had in mind.
Finally, the optical, under-display fingerprint scanner. This, my friends, is an antique piece of hardware that belongs to a museum. Remember the Huawei Mate RS from 2018 ? One of the first phones with UDFS. The optical technology was so experimental and unreliable (still is, most OEMs moved on to ultrasonic) that Huawei also included another optical fingerprint sensor on the back of the device, just in case. Well, this ancient tech is what you have on the Pixel 8 Pro, and no optical sensor backup in sight.
Sometimes, it can take up to 2 full seconds of contact to….successfully fail to unlock. After it fails 3 times or so, it will ask you to enter your password, making one-hand unlocks a luck job. Sometimes it will successfully unlock after a couple tries, but a couple tries of 2 seconds each makes unlocking your phone a 4 seconds job which is just painfully slow. The occasional one tap magic is as rare as the occasional 120hz peak in the UI. As for face-unlock, I know it's there but I disabled it because it doesn't work in the dark (no IR sensor) and I simply want to unlock my phone at waist height, without having to raise it to my face.
Pixel 8 Pro remembers me of an exotic sports car that might look incredibly cool from a distance but is actually a pain to live with on a daily basis. And indeed it does look incredibly cool. I remember seeing this phone as a much better pick than the generic Galaxy and the boring iPhone, but I’d rather go boring or generic than having to handle this mess of an hardware Google sold me for 1159€.
TLDR : Positives = Camera quality, great design Negatives = everything else

TL;DR: Found out tonight that the guy I've been flirting with and made out with is married.
I've been building terrariums, including 2 new ones for tadpoles that are about to become frogs. So, I've become a regular at a local terrarium shop, and struck up a very flirtatious exchange with the owner. I asked him if he or any of his customers would be interested in getting frogs, because otherwise I'm going to release most of them where I got the tadpoles. We were flirting for a few weeks, and then he came over to check out my set-up and arrange the logistics for exchanging frogs. He was very physically affectionate and flirtatious. My partner was home, but he left us alone. I walked him out and we made out on the sidewalk for a good bit. It was hot and awesome. I was really excited about having a summer fling! Still flirting via text, still had plans this week to do terrarium frog stuff. I asked him if he wanted to meet for a drink after work tonight, and he said he plans but then changed them last minute and met me at a bar near my work.
He asked me about ENM, we talked about my relationship with my partner and how it worked. I told him about how I had been in a relationship that ended because the dude's partner didn't know about me, and how it devastated me and I was just finally getting over it.
And then disclosed that he was married, had been for 19 years, and had 6 kids.
Then told me that he had cheated on his wife a year and a half ago, and it broke her heart. But that he needed to tell me before we got together this week, because he knew he would not be able to control himself. That he wanted me and was trying to "not go down that road."
His wife is distant, and doesn't have a high sex drive. He said in 19 years, he'd kissed 3 women. His wife, the woman he cheated with, and me.
I told him he didn't need to worry about that, because the road was closed. I would not participate in anything that would hurt someone the way myself and the other woman was hurt. We discussed the chemistry we had and the immediate attraction. That it would, in fact, be very hot. I asked him where his wife thought he was. He said he needed to tell me before we met later this week, because he knew things would progress. He needed to be honest. I "jokingly" told him that if I'd found out he wasn't in an ENM marriage after we'd messed around, that I'd throw a rock through his shop window.
I could tell that he was trying to get me to relent, I told him we would just be frog friends. He kept saying that he was trying to not be tempted, and I told him that it didn't matter, because, again, I wouldn't participate. We only had one drink, and he tried to walk me to my car. As we were walking, he asked me if he could kiss me one last time. I said no, that integrity was doing the right thing when no one was watching. We hugged goodbye, and he was reluctant to let go. He tried to kiss my neck, and I pulled away.
All in all, it was a very positive event. We had a great conversation. I'm writing this partly because oh my goodness the gall, but also to confess that it was a very stubborn, conscious decision not indulge in something that would have been undeniably amazing. The attraction between us was immediate from the first time we met and the chemistry was atomic when we kissed. I mentioned at some point during our conversation that spending time together (outside of frogs, or alone) would be dangerous because the "forbidden" aspect makes everything that much hotter.
Because while I said all this to him, clearly stated my boundaries, completely adjusted my body language, there was part of me that was thinking "you're saying this because it's the right thing to do but it's dishonest let this guy ravage you."
Friends, I'm not asking for a pat on the back. I did the right thing but good lord was I tempted. I'm debating whether or not to even keep our plans to get together for frog related stuff. I don't think I'm a saint for standing my ground. I'm grateful that I was able to stick to my scruples, but I need y'all to brutally help me maintain my resolve.