Hello everyone, I am trying to create a Multi-agent Coding Tutor chatbot (or academically speaking "CTS - Conversational Tutoring System") for my course project. We want it to be a personalized tutor, which means that it will teach the person based on their age, level of education, and hobbies or interests.
To instruct this Mistral-7B-Instruct-v0.2 4-bit quantized model, we have added the following system prompt to the model:

system_prompt = f"""Imagine you are a friendly and highly knowledgeable teacher who specializes in teaching {prog_language_to_teach} programming. Your student, who is a {user_age}'s old {user_edu_scope} student and whose understanding and interests is into {user_interest}, is eager to learn and looks up to you for clear, easy-to-understand explanations. For every concept you introduce, provide a brief overview and relate it to a real-life scenario or analogy that will resonate with the student, making it easier for them to grasp the topic quickly. When explaining programming concepts, consider the student's age and their hobbies or interests, tailoring examples and analogies to align with these details. Your explanations should include short, precise programming examples relevant to the student's life and interests. After presenting an example, break it down into step-by-step explanations to ensure the student fully understands. Periodically, engage the student with quick quiz questions or programming tasks that are directly related to what you've discussed. These activities should build on the chat history and context, reinforcing the student's learning and keeping the conversation interactive and engaging. Remember, your goal is to create a supportive, engaging learning environment that adapts to the student's abilities, interests, and pace, making learning Python an enjoyable and rewarding experience.""" 

Mistral-7B-Instruct-v0.2 doesn't have an explicit system prompt, so I had to find a different way to add one to the code for the very first prompt.
model_input = f"[INST] {system_prompt} [/INST]" + f"[INST] {user_message} [/INST]"
Now, on the initial run, the chatbot is doing fine often and as expected. In the case of a 10-year-old Kindergartener who loves "Baby Shark Rhyme," the bot will talk about what he likes. In another case of a 20-year-old shareholder in the share market, the bot tried to teach programming using business analogies.
But the common issues I face are the following:

1. The chatbot is too verbose, especially on complex topics such as Encapsulations. (I have used max_new_tokens=1000, is it causing the verbosity? Lessening to 500 or 750 causes the model to stop on incomplete answers abruptly.*)
2. So far, switching from a coding tutor to a general tutor has been the hardest thing. For instance, if the user is older and asks about something off-topic, like Newton's law or the American Law of Immigration, it immediately switches itself from the coding tutor to that other tutor.
3. Another problem is that it gives the answers right away while it generates the quizzes. Although I tested with different prompts, I can resist this nature.

My biggest problem so far is the 2nd and 1st one, respectively. I have tried adding refusal prompts in the system prompt, but then it slightly refuses to teach those irrelevant topics and then starts making coding examples on it.

 ## Strict Refusal: If the question is not related to programming, respond strictly with a refusal sentence and do not provide any further explanation or code. 

For these cases, sometimes it follows, sometimes not. Also adding too many instructions into the system prompts too big resulting in GPU memory exhaustion after 5-6 long chats. BTW, To mimic a memory feature, I am saving chats to a dictionary.
Since yesterday and again tonight, I've been trying to make the prompting better but haven't been able to. I'm brand new to LLM chatbot programming and have never done this before. This project began a month ago because the idea is unique to my MSc project, but I got stuck in the middle of it.
How can I make the prompting better to avoid the problems that were brought up? Also, can someone recommend a good tutorial on how to make this kind of chatbot? I've been looking for these, but most of the tutorials use OpenAI and/or langchain. For a change, my supervisor wants us to only test with open-source models. We can use Mistral to begin because it fits on the Kaggle notebook we have.
Any suggestion including trying to other approaches, totally changing the system prompt, and trying another one (if you say so, can you please show me one?) and a good & detailed tutorial will be super appreciated. IDK, suddenly it feels so lost.

Im sorry for my poor English, it’s my third language.
I’m 28 years old. In 2013 I found out that I had a benign tumor in my spinal cord, I was told that this kind of tumors don’t affect health unless it grows in size, I just should do screenings once a year and that’s it. Danger symptoms are: loosing balance, coordination, weakness in my legs. In June 2023 I did my annual screening and I was told that everything is fine, it grows but veryyyyy slowly. In August 2023 I started having back pain in the exact area where tumor was located. The problem is that I couldn’t have a consultation with my neurosurgeon (I won’t go into details because it’s a long story). The pain was becoming worse and worse, so I was almost panicking, I went to numerous doctors and some of them said it can’t be affected by tumors, some said it can be affected, I felt completely helpless, didn’t know what to do. I tried every treatment they prescribed but it didn’t help. So I flew to another country to meet more qualified doctors. Both of them said that my situation is under control, I won’t be paralyzed (it was my main fear), but I’ll need surgery sooner or later, they were ready to do surgery. Also they said that my back pain can be affected by tumors. So I decided to do surgery. Neurosurgeon assured me that I’ll recover 100% in three months after surgery. It was the hardest three months in my life (again I won’t go into details), I barely walked, couldn’t feel my lower body e.t.c. In three months I was in much better shape, but I lost sensation under the chest area on the right side of my body, also I lost about 30% sensation in my lower body comparing how it felt before and became shorter for 3cm, and I guess I’ll be with it for the rest of my life. The worst thing is that pain in my back didn’t go away, it stayed. I found out what it was later, the pain almost vanished. I can’t come to my senses, I’m depressed and it’s hard for me to talk to people, I constantly regret having surgery. Outcomes affect me on daily basis. Maybe writing it here will help.

I mentioned this in a comment on another post, but I'm posting it here because....well. When Sherlock calls Lestrade by his first name in "The Sign of Three" the closed caption puts it as "Jeff". There is, however, an alliterative spelling, possibly from Old English, "Geoff", short for "Geoffrey". It's pronounced the same, and is seen in cases such as Geoffrey Rush, the actor, Geoffrey Chaucer, the poet, and Geoffrey of Monmouth, the source of many of the Arthurian stories.
It also fits into Sherlock's "G" game with Lestrade. The only thing I can think of is that somewhere it was auto-corrected and never reset.
Thank you for listening. I feel so much better now! This has been bugging me for months. Like Sherlock, I keep yelling at the T.V.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Warriors of the Financial Battlefield,
Today, we stand at a pivotal moment in history. For too long, we have been oppressed, marginalized, and overshadowed by the towering giants of Wall Street—the hedge funds. These financial titans have reaped the rewards of our labor, manipulated markets, and amassed fortunes at the expense of hardworking, everyday investors like us. But no more! Today, we rise. Today, we fight!
We are the underdogs, the underestimated, the overlooked. We are the millions of voices that have been silenced, but no longer. We have the power of unity, the strength of numbers, and the determination of those who refuse to be oppressed. The hedge funds think they are invincible, but they have underestimated the resolve of the people they have ignored for so long. They have forgotten that true power lies not in the hands of the few, but in the collective will of the many.
We are not just investors—we are the vanguard of a revolution. We are the harbingers of change. Each dollar we invest is a bullet fired in the battle for financial justice. Each trade we make is a step forward in our march toward freedom. We are here to reclaim what is rightfully ours, to take back our futures, and to build generational wealth that cannot be stolen, manipulated, or destroyed by those who think they are above us.
Look around you. See the faces of your comrades, your brothers and sisters in arms. We are united by a common cause, bound by a shared destiny. Together, we are unstoppable. The hedge funds may have their algorithms, their insider information, and their high-frequency trading, but we have something far more powerful: we have each other. We have the strength of solidarity, the fire of justice, and the unwavering belief that we deserve better.
This is our time. This is our fight. We will not be intimidated, we will not be silenced, and we will not back down. We are the storm that will sweep away the old order and bring about a new era of financial democracy. We will rise from the ashes of oppression and build a future where everyone has the opportunity to prosper.
So, stand tall, my fellow warriors. Stand tall and fight for your future, for your families, for the generations to come. Together, we will break the chains of oppression, shatter the walls of inequality, and create a legacy of wealth that will endure for centuries.
This is our battle cry: Freedom, Justice, Prosperity! The age of the hedge funds is over. The age of the people has begun.
Forward, to victory!

So after referring about 10 people last week (most of them are my coworkers), my referral link no longer works. I tried generating a new one but the old link came up still and support had no clue how to fix this. Has this happened to anyone else?

Hey guys! I've been working on this update for a while and I'm very excited to share it with you. Here's what's new:

Video Faceswap

Also known as Deepfake, it allows you to swap faces in a video. Just upload a selfie and a video, the output will be a video file with the faces swapped.

We are not in Google Play anymore

Google Play has removed Lyvia from their store due its ability to generate NSFW images. But no worries, you can always download the APK from Lyvia's official website: https://lyvia.art/android.apk. Always download the APK from this official link.
Payments on Android and Lyvia Web are processed by Stripe, make sure your email is correct and the recipient is correct (Cendrawasih Technologies LLC)

New Models

Added new models replacing the old ones. - Lyvia 3, an improved version of Lyvia 2. - Lyvianime, you know, for anime fans. - Lyvia NSFW, for some reason, whatever your prompt is, it always output NSFW.
I always try to improve the quality and prompt adherence, so if you have any feedback, please let me know.

Higher Quality, Lower Cost

Higher image quality with less credits. Before it was 2 credits for 512x768 image (3 if upscaled), now it's 1 credit for 1024x1024 image. Also you can get bonus credits if you purchase them via Lyvia Web.

Lyvia Web

Now you can use Lyvia on your desktop/laptop browser. Access it anytime at https://lyvia.art

Minor Improvements

Faster speed. Fixed some bugs. Improved the UI.

More to come!

Here's what I'm working on: - LoRA support - poses, styles, and more. - ControlNet - more control to the output. - Quick Faceswap - swap faces in two photos.

Known Bugs

Sometimes Lyvia Pro users on iOS is not recognized on Android and Web, in that case please send me an email using your support ID. I'll check make sure your Lyvia Pro subscription is in effect in all platforms.

Let's Chat

If you need help, have suggestions, or just want to chat, please contact me anytime at
Reddit Chat: u/br4hmz Telegram: @lyvia_ai Email: admin@cendra.co
Enjoy the update! I hope you guys are having fun! 🎉 u/br4hmz

I was reading another entry about boomers boomering - see the story about the tires from another redditor in this sub. Anyway it reminded me of the time my toilet went missing.
My mom and aunt inherited everything from their great- aunt. This included an old house on 3 lots in a very rural community and it's contents. My mom ended up taking the house, which she eventually gave me. At the time this happened, she would be considered my landlord. So I move in this house. Packing crap up for them to go through later. Like the weird anthropomorphic fruit figurines in the kitchen that felt vaguely racist. The Last Supper mass produced art turned in to a clock. So many floral vases etc. Now my great, great- aunt was part of the silent generation. Still used a wringer washer in her basement. Mowed her 3 lots with a rotary mower. Microwaves were too fancy. So needless to say, this place HAD NOT been updated in awhile.
So I move in. After a month or so, I tell my mom the toilet flushes really slow. And maybe we should get someone out to look at it. She tells me I'm an idiot. I just don't understand how plumbing works and I should increase fiber in my diet. OK whatever. One day, my aunt is in town and they decide they're going to spend the day going through the various items to pack up, give away, sell etc. I give them guidelines (spoiler... they did not follow them). As I'm heading home, my mom calls and tells me not to go home yet. She's walked my dogs just now. Fed them and the cat. Could I pick up dinner? it's been called in and paid for. Just needs picked up and meet at her house. Now, my spidey senses were tingling because this isn't normal. But I figure meh. My aunt must be a good influence on her. NOPE.
After enjoying dinner with family, I stand up to say my goodbyes. Only to have my mom encourage me to spend the night at her house. Me, confused and I ask her why. That's when she tells me she and my aunt are concerned about how slow my toilet is working and they decided to fix it. And now it's not working. I told her nah. Going home. If I have to REALLY pee in the middle of the night, there is an outhouse- SAID AS A JOKE mind you. Since I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I came home to a large hole in my bathroom floor where my toilet once resided. Said toilet was now in the bath tub which blocked my ability to even shower in the damn thing. I called, screaming at the two of them. Obviously I was irrational. They WERE HELPING. Mom says they'll get a plumber out immediately. For TWO WEEKS I had no working toilet in my home. Taking a shower every morning at my parents. Not drinking water late etc. Thank God for the outhouse. Sigh. Why did it go on for 2 weeks? Well 1. I hadn't figured out boundaries yet. 2. My mom never told my stepdad who said he would call the plumber what was actually going on. She told him I was just unhappy with the flow of the toilet and being dramatic. So it wasn't urgent. He stopped me one morning when he found me coming out of the bathroom after getting ready for the day, basically asking why the grown a$$ kid with a house of her own was using his shower. Especially when he brought the tub into modern times by building me a makeshift shower until my remodel. Me- because the toilet is in the tub and I can't take a shower. Him- why the f is there a toilet in your tub? Me- because 2 weeks ago your wife and her sister removed my toilet because they thought they could fix it. Him- WHAT?!!? Me-i just have a hole in the ground.
Next day the septic guys and the plumber out fixing everything. Relaying the story to my cousins. Cousins- oh yeah. Mom thinks she can fix plumbing mishaps. She can't. We assume our inheritance has gone to overpriced emergency repairs. Good luck!

If so, what should I be looking for?
Currently in Dalat and would prefer to stay here but can go to Hanoi or Saigon in the beginning of July if that is better. I just really want to leave by the end of December. Maybe I should just look for a place that would let me take a few months off for December, Jan and Feb. and then come back and do 6 more months with them. Maybe just go the under the table route that I already have offers for.
In case it matters, I am a native speaker from the US. I have a crappy online cert. I have two years of experience teaching university to would be high school English teachers and general ed teachers in Chile. I have 3+ years of experience teaching Cambodians ages ~11 to 18. I have ~6 months experience teaching 3- to 14-year-olds as a volunteer in Japan and Vietnam. A BA degree in linguistics. Should be finished with my MA in applied linguistics by the end of June if not September.

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

20. Quantum of Solace (2008)

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

19. Mission: Impossible—Rogue Nation (2015)

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

18. Vanishing Point (1971)

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

17. Fast Five (2011)

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

16. The Blues Brothers (1980)

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

15. Baby Driver (2017)

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

14. The Raid 2 (2014)

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

13. The Driver (1978)

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

12. The Bourne Supremacy (2004)

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

11. The Seven-Ups (1973)

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

10. Death Proof (2007)

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

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

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

8. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)

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

7. Gone in 60 Seconds (1974)

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

6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

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

5. Duel (1971)

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

4. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

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

3. The French Connection (1971)

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

2. Bullitt (1968)

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

1. Ronin (1998)

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

Down a rabbit hole:
Warp Drive:
1990 NASA paper by A.C. Holt (major co-authors of his other papers are Eric Davis and Puthoff). Describes a warp drive capable craft using all of the juicy SDI tech such as:
high temperature superconductors, micro-engineered materials, compact superconducting magnets, free-electron lasers, high power, tunable microwave systems (masers), quasicrystals, plasmoid generators.
Author tries to invoke string theory and Higgs particles, but says there's not enough data about them yet. He calls the warping "Space Time Field Disengagement with Field Bias" (Table 1). The only reference he provides on this is for the fusion reactor needed. That fusion paper looks really interesting from the players involved, here.
As far as I understand these warp drives from the SDI era, they were dealing with altering the virtual particle density by polarizing the vacuum. Get yourself a very strong E/B field, and you've now biased space so that the virtual electron-positrons are more likely to pop into existence with greater lifetimes before annihilating. By affecting this lifetime, you can then push off of this biased field by directing the electrons one way and the positrons the other way. Julian Schwinger was key to the development of this SDI era warp tech. I gave an APEC presentation on it here and then a more recent updated version with a bit less jargon here.
Let's just look at a few of those words in context of when this paper was written.

• Quasicrystals were only first created in '84, with the nobel awarded to those researchers in 2011. Also, Ed Fouche described the use of quasicrystals in the TR-3B.
• Masers were investigated during the antigravity research craze in the 50s.
• FELs precipitated the nuclear detonation version of the Excalibur laser, and were used extensively in Friedwardt Winterberg's SDI fusion designs.
• Compact superconducting magnets were designed during SDI for energy storage (SMES). These were designed in the SDI program to be able to handle [initially] 0.5GW, only to then surpass the GW barrier in the last year of SDI.

I highly recommend any serious alternative propulsion researchers thoroughly investigate what was achieved by the US during the 80s. This was a time for unlimited spending in R&D and SDI resulted in over 5000 patents made publicly available for the betterment of medicine/computation/optics etc..
It's worth mentioning the hypothesis that these technologies like nuclear lasers on flying TR-3B spacecraft were being developed to fight outside threats, rather than the Russians.
Author lists some very precise details therein. He mentions only two stars in this paper, Alpha Centari and Epsilon Bootes (114LY away, pg14). So of course I had to look up why he calls out Bootes. He [weakly] claims that star is similar to Sol. So I did some digging on what makes this star special and kept coming up with Reptilians, but the earliest source I could find was 1995.
Aliens:
Then I found a book from 2011 that talks about Tesla noticing radio signals from Epsilon Bootes. Cross-referenced that with a NASA(-ish) paper saying similar 'off-world signals' discovered by Tesla that he thought were coming from Mars.
Lastly, here's a TIME magazine article for an off-world signal that was discovered in 1973. Signal was claiming to be coming from an alien satellite from Epsilon Bootes that was orbiting the moon and was saying that the satellite was 11,000yrs old. A much better written version told by the guy who found the signal (2nd link) where he specifically states it wasn't coming from the 'Black Knight' satellite and that he'd been directed where to look for these signals by a Stanford Professor. Here's a 1hr long interview with the guy who discovered the message, Duncan Lunan, lots more info there:
https://content.time.com/time/subscribearticle/0,33009,903951,00.html
https://www.duncanlunan.com/blackknight.asp
I noticed Arcturus (Tall Whites star from Charles Hall) mentioned whenever I tried looking up Bootes, but that star is only 37LY away and Holt specifically mentions the Epsilon Bootes star at 114LY. From the different Alien docs I could find, it sounds like a bunch of different species might be located in that cluster, reptilians/tall whites/nordics.
Additionally, a bit more digging today reveals that Epsilon Bootes is actually about 200LY away, not 114LY, and it's a binary system that's quite different than Sol. So Holt may have been way off (either accidently or on purpose?)
The star which happens to be most similar to Sol in the Bootes cluster is Muphrid (Eta Bootes) at 37LY away, which is imperceptibly close to Arcturus. As far as I recall, Charles Hall's description of pointing at Arcturus for the Tall White's star resulted in the Teacher saying that it wasn't their star but it was very close. This makes it sound like the Tall White's star is more likely Eta Bootes.
Nasa Warp Drive by Alan C. Holt: https://ntrs.nasa.gov/api/citations/19910012853/downloads/19910012853.pdf
2011 book talking about Tesla finding signals that he thought were from Epsilon Bootes:
https://archive.org/details/TheLostJournalsOfNikolaTesla/page/n33/mode/2up?q=bootes
And NASA-ish paper saying similar off-world signals noted by Tesla:
https://radiojove.gsfc.nasa.gov/education/educationalcd/Books/Tesla.pdf
And lastly, one of the sources I found saying the Reptilians are from Bootes (less legit looking though tbh):
https://www.booksie.com/685518-encyclopedia-of-alien-races-chapter-1
Duncan Lunan interview about decoding the moon satellite message:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_sgl-Ja42M

Previous Part
By the time I’d woke up bright and early at 4 A.M., Rocco had amassed an impressive pile of pilfered food in the corner of the tepee. He was just dragging in a turkey leg when I saw him, must’ve been at it all night form the looks of it.
“Rocco, what the hell!”
I shouted, waving my hands at the pile of food he’d brought in.
“I told you to stay out of trouble, lay low. This is… not that!”
I complained, trying to think of how I’d talk my way out of this if anyone asked about the missing food. Rocco simply responded by shrugging, turning around, and diving face first into the mountain of food. I was annoyed at the moment but then I got to thinking. If Rocco stole all that and no one saw him what else could he do without being noticed?
“Hey… hey Rocco no-one saw you stealing all this right?”
I asked, grabbing his tail and dragging him out of the food mountain.
“WHATS DA BIG IDEA!”
He protested, flailing around as I held him in the air by his tail before regaining his composure and adding.
“I’m a profesional, of course I didn’t get seen. Why?! Did someone say something!?
Rocco shot his head from side to side, like he would find someone listening or critiquing his heist. All the movement causing him to spin slowly, still dangling from his tail.
“No, I was just thinking, as long as your out here I could have a job for you.”
I said, setting him down as he answered,
“Whad’ya mean? Spit it out!”
with his classic charm.
“I mean, I want you to sneak into that blonde guy’s tepee. The one with the shitty attitude, Brooke I think his name was. Just see if you can find anything in there.”
I could see Rocco’s interest was peaked but he still had one last all to predictable question.
“What’s in it for me?”
“You keep whatever you find in there no questions asked.”
Before the words even left fully my lips Rocco cried, “DEAL” and sprinted out of the tepee on all fours, leaving me alone.
I wasn’t really sure what the process was now, was Shaoni going to come get us or did she expect us to meet her in the coliseum? I’d never been part of anything like this before, I had no idea what the attendance policy was like. So, lacking anything better to do, I walked down into the mines and waited in the coliseum. It was obvious they were’t really ready for us yet. A few of Shaoni’s people were down there placing cactus looking things into five carved wooden bowls on the floor. Five bowls, five people in these trials so those had to have something to do with us. I looked around the room, trying to find Shaoni. She wasn’t up on her perch like yesterday and she certainly wasn’t part of the small group setting up those bowls. I felt a little different about her now that we’d had a chance to talk. Before I’d been afraid of her, and for good reason, but she seemed to want the opposite of that. Maybe not from me specifically but in general. Although, how could you not be scared of someone who could turn into a giant bird and seemed to consistently be the cause of freak storms. There was a lot of power to her but she didn’t want people to be afraid of it, she wanted respect. I’m sure there was more to her that I hadn’t heard but I certainly was going to hear anything new here.
Seeing as I was still apparently early, I decided not to wear out my welcome in the coliseum. I made my way back out of the mines and settled down back at that canvas tent with the huge table. It was again filled with food that had come from nowhere in particular, probably set up by more of Shaoni’s people. As if to confirm my suspicion, the bandaged man Bianca had stabbed earlier emerged from the camp, walking towards me with a platter of bacon. He starred daggers at me as he placed the platter at the table but didn’t say anything. I was almost tempted to apologize on Bianca’s behalf but I got the sense that wouldn’t be a great idea. Not long after I saw two of the others approaching.
“… Sure, but for some glorified tent it’s still pretty comfortable.”
Brooke said to Katrina who looked thoroughly uninterested in what he had to say.
Brooke wore a… purple suit that made him look like some stereotypical version of a pimp. I couldn’t think of any reason he’d wear that out here, at least no-one would mistake him from anyone else, that ’s for sure. Katrina wore an equally confusing getup, a blue tank top and jeans that made her look kinda like the girl from those tomb raider games. It was about 50 degrees out and probably wasn’t going to get much warmer. If she wanted to freeze, so be it. I gave a slight nod to them as they sat down across from me. Katrina still eyeing Brooke with an expression that begged for him not to open his mouth again.
I couldn’t stop staring at her, no not like that, I was staring at her belt where a holster sat,
“You like it?”
She asked, noticing the staring that I should’ve been trying harder to hide, drawing the handgun from the holster on her hip.
“Beretta M9 semi-automatic pistol, my father’s service pistol actually. Always served me well, so I always keep it on me, well almost always.”
She said with a wink, checking the gun and pulling back its slide. I wasn’t all that familiar with guns but I distinctly saw her flip the safety off. Which had a profound effect on my nerves considering I was staring down its barrel.
“They let you keep that around here? I would’ve thought they take that from you.”
I asked incredulously, still eyeing the gun she had pointed at me.
“I hid it on me yesterday, if they have an issue with it they can try and take it from me. I’m not doing anything like this without some kind of insurance. They get me and Luke or nothing at all.”
She retorted, spinning the gun back into her holster and turning the safety back on with a practiced hand. “Oh that’s cute, she named it” I thought sarcastically as my nerves settled, a loaded gun no longer pointed directly at my face.
“I’m not sure Shaoni would let you leave, even if you wanted to.”
“Oh please! She wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me or she’d have bigger problems coming her way.”
Katrina laughed, throwing her hand back in seemingly genuine amusement. She really didn’t have a care about the Thunderbird? I found that hard to believe.
“So what do you do anyways then? If you’re so sure she wouldn’t touch you.”
I asked incredulously. This seemed to grab her attention as she immediately snapped her head down, locking eyes with me and barking,
“That’s a need to know thing and you don’t.”
Before returning her attention to the food on the table and ignoring me. She was military, that was probably a safe assumption.
Brooke had been listening in to our conversation as he ate. After Katrina snapped at me he finally spoke up.
“So hang on, you came all the way out here with no insurance, no protection? Does anyone even know you’re out here?”
I briefly thought about Rocco, he wasn’t great insurance but he sure came cheap. I hadn’t stopped to think about preparing anything to bring out here with me. I just stupidly assumed everyone was on the same page as me, an unprepared fish out of water.
“No, I guess not.”
I responded, a little shaken at the realization that everyone here was probably more prepared than me.
“You must be stupid or have balls of steel to do something like that.”
Brooke told me, reaching over the table to clap me on the shoulder. I didn’t know if this really was the Brooke Bianca told me about or not but I really did not like this guy. We ate the rest of our breakfast in silence. John and Robert never showed up but I guessed they were down in the mines helping set everything up. I guess being a participate in the trials didn’t exempt Shaoni's followers from having to help get ready for them.
Apparently my guess was right because Robert and John were both already in the coliseum when the three of us arrived. Shaoni was once again up on the balcony and all of the people that had been there earlier were gone. I could clearly see what was in the five bowls now. It was some kind of small cactus thing with a white-pink flower at the top. I’d never seen anything like it before but it did seem a little out of place.
“This is your first trial, the trial of morals. This trial is meant to show us where your morals lie through visions of the past and beyond. Sometimes the plant has a mind of its own though so I don’t expect anyone will have the same experience. Some may not even serve the purpose of the trial but the vision is more important than anything I hoped to learn.”
Shaoni spoke like an announcer from above us.
“There is a plant there for each of you, peyote plants that I had grow for just this occasion. Each of you will eat one of the plants and they will give you visions. You will walk among the spirits and they will show you what you need to see.”
Shaoni finished, like she hadn’t just asked us to take hallucinogenics in an unfamiliar environment surrounded by people we didn’t really trust. I wasn’t a huge fan of being here when I was in control of my faculties but while experiencing a vision, oh no, fat chance. Then again it wasn’t like I had all that much of a choice, I realized just before I opened my mouth to protest.
“Fine but what does that tell you about us? Sure we can go get high for you here but it doesn’t really help anyone.”
Brooke spoke up, taking his usual disrespectful tone with Shaoni.
“I have my ways of knowing, but this experiences is for you. It should tell you more about yourself than it will tell me but I assure you, I will learn something.”
An annoyed but composed Shaoni responded. With that she turned and left us to our task.
“So does anyone want to go first?”
Katrina asked, putting a finger to her nose, inviting anyone else to go first.
“Not so fast sweetcheeks, I don’t trust any of you so how about you take the first crack at it?”
Brooke pointedly suggested. I think Katrina wanted to throw a haymaker at his face right then but I stepped in first.
“What if we all did it at once? Then no one is waiting around and I highly doubt she would let anyone come down here and do anything to us if these trials are that important to her.”
I reasoned, pointing up at the balcony Shaoni had been standing on.
“I still don’t like it but I can live with that, I agree everyone at once like… what’s your name?”
“Keith”
“Everyone at once like Keith said.”
Commanded Katrina, looking everyone in the eye and daring them to challenge her. I didn’t know what she did before coming here but whatever it was gave her a glare even Shaoni would be proud of. No-one hesitated to walk up to their respective bowls and take a bite of the strange pinkish flower at the top of the cactus.
The effects weren’t immediate, John just ate his flower then knelt by his bowl, eyes closed waiting for the vision to come. Robert leaned against the wall looking at his watch, seemingly judging the time before it took effect.
“It’s not my first time with peyote, I’ll probably stay up a little longer than you guys.”
Brooke bragged to the room, taking a seat by his bowl as Katrina and I did the same.
Poetically, Brooke was actually the first of us to go down for the count. I had to resit the urge to stand up and kick the crumpled up purple ball that was formerly Brooke. I don’t think anyone would have stopped me, heck the way Katrina was glaring at him this morning she might’ve joined in. But given what came next it was probably a good idea I didn’t stand. All of a sudden the room began flashing different colors, orange then brown then blue. I felt like I was falling but I hadn’t moved. Eventually a sensation came over me, like I had stood up but I was acutely aware of the fact that my body was really lying on the floor of the coliseum. As my vision cleared I started to recognize things, sights and sounds of a hospital room. It would seem my vision had started by bringing me back to my father.
I inched through the hospital room, sure of what I’d see on the other side of the thin curtain. A heart monitor beeped, just the same as the first and last time I’d been in this room. I saw my father, splayed across the bed no different than the only time I’d been in this room. I’ve always maintained that my family life was generally normal, anything that lay outside of that box of normality could be attributed to my father. He was never what I’d call a good person. Sure, he was never aggressive towards me but it didn't really count for anything. You could tell he never really wanted me. What he did to my mother, that was another story. He came home drunk almost every night and she end up with a black eye or worse at least once a week. Unfortunately for us he had a good job, he paid the bills and my mother and I couldn’t really support ourselves on our own back then. Worse still my mother always told me she put up with it for my sake when I asked her about it. That meant I always felt partially responsible every time I heard a fist meet skin in the room below mine.
My father had ended up in this bed by way of a drunk driving incident. Funnily enough it wasn’t actually his fault. He just so happened to be in the wrong intersection at the wrong time when a box truck plowed right into him. The accident left him with severe brain and spinal damage. It was a sick joke he survived, not a miracle. He’d be on life support from now on. I could’ve made him pay for everything he did with the simple tug of a cable. The only reason I didn’t was that the owner of the company that employed the box truck driver offered to pay all his medical bills. He must not have looked to closely because my fathers insurance was covering all of it. But every week a hefty check came in the mail anyways. As long as he was alive and in that hospital bed, me and my mother could live comfortably. It wasn’t really the right thing to do but I figured it was what my mother deserved after years of putting up with his abuse.
The heart monitor’s shrill beeping focused me back to the situation. I stood over my father’s body, the old urge to just pull the plug washing over me again.
“It would be so easy. Mom’s fine now, you’re managing, why do you still need him?”
I thought to myself, toying with the idea as another voice spoke in my head, Shaoni’s voice.
“He’s earned it, he ruined years of your mother’s life, Its only fair he pay a price for what he did.”
I looked around for the source of her voice but I saw nothing, maybe I was just hearing things, it was just a vision after all right? I looked down to see I was now on the opposite side of the bed, hand reaching toward the cord that powered the life support. Time seemed to move at a crawl, was this really the best option? He was probably solely responsible for the distance between my mother and I, he beat her so many times. Some of the blame for it even sat on my shouldres, would killing him take that away? Could I live with myself if I did this? Knowing I took the easy way out at his expense. No… I couldn’t, it would make me just as bad as him. It just wasn’t right I shouldn’t be the one to decide if he dies. Besides, whatever sliver of sentience remained in him deserved to watch as he shriveled and died in his own way, in some ways that was far worse but he didn’t deserve an easy way out either. The room spun as I made my choice and pulled my hand back from the plug. Sending my vision spiraling as my body collapsed to the cold hospital floor. When I finally fought my way through my spinning vision and back to my feet I was somewhere else. I was in Imalone and if I had to guess it was the night I first saw Shaoni.
I was somewhere in the town square where I got chained into the wooden monstrosity the cultists had made. Shaoni was circling in the sky so I guess I was watching this memory from outside of myself. I was made absolutely sure of this when I saw myself being carried out of the old rotting bar. I watched as the situation played out exactly as I remembered it. Right up until Shaoni landed and came to speak with the one masked cultist. What had been gibberish to me before was suddenly crystal clear english.
“What IS this! You think this is right!? This is what you think I stand for, human sacrifice?!”
Shaoni shouted with such intensity and force I jumped back, looking for a place to take cover.
“Brother Aaron foretold your approach, this outsider wandered in so we thought he would make an excellent gift to you.”
The masked cultist answered, missing the point entirely as Shaoni’s eyes flashed with fury.
“There will be a sacrifice alright, a price must be paid for everything you’ve done here. You have no understanding of what I stand for, You’ve spit in the face of it in fact and for that, each and every one of you will make a sacrifice. Release that poor boy, NOW!”
Shaoni commanded the cultists with a voice so stern I almost ran to try and free the trapped version of myself. None of them budged, they didn’t even seem to realize what kind of danger they were in. Shaoni strode past them over to me where she offered me her all to familiar deal. I was stunned, I never stopped to think that she fully intended to let me go either way. Sure, now I knew that these guys weren’t her usual followers. I still never thought she came here intending to wipe them out. I didn’t really have a chance to dwell on it. Before I knew it Shaoni was transforming again causing a tornado to appear in the middle of town as lightning struck around the area like machine gun fire. As the wall of wind rain and lighting reached me I felt a familiar falling sensation and blacked out again.
When I came to I was back on the cave floor again. I wasn’t sure if I was still in a vision until I felt a sharp kick to my side.
“Oh… that felt… very real. Oh god why?”
I groaned as I looked up at the smirking Katrina.
“He’s awake, that’s everyone then.”
She called out to the rest of the group who were all standing around me. She and the others walked off in the direction of the exit, leaving me there on the floor. With nothing better to do I followed them out. Outside the full moon had shown itself, bathing the camp in shimmering moonlight. Shaoni walked up to greet all of us who’d just collectively decided to just go outside.
“You’ve all made it through it would seem, I hope your experiences weren’t to unpleasant.”
Brooke charged straight past her, I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. Obviously he’d seen something he didn’t like while he was under the influence of that plant. Katrina seemed completely unaffected, marching by Shaoni filled with the same confidence she had when I first saw her. Robert and John seemed completely unaffected by whatever they had seen but something told me they might be used to it. Me, I wasn’t doing so great. I wasn’t all that pleased about revisiting my father and all those old memories and whatever that flower was called had really done a number on me. I weakly waved to Shaoni as I walked by, just trying to focus on walking straight. She didn’t seem to surprised that none of us wanted to talk to her. She didn’t say anything to us as we all quietly sat and ate. I didn’t like the silence, it felt like everyone was just waiting for something to happen but no-one had any idea what. So I got up and headed back to my tepee, maybe Rocco had turned something up on Brooke.
Rocco was waiting for me atop his mountain of food when I got back.
“I found somethin yous might be interested in”
He said triumphantly, waving around a polaroid photo he had clutched in his paw.
“Give that to me!”
I snapped, ripping it right out of his paw.
“Well someones in a mood.”
“Getting drugged will do that to you.”
I snapped as Rocco stared at me, paws on his hips like he was about to give me attitude.
“I’m sorry My heads still just spinning from… well everything today.”
I sighed, holding my head in one hand as I shook it. Apologizing to a raccoon, my life really was something wasn’t it? I looked down to the picture enemy hand and immediately ice shot through my veins. It was a picture of Bianca taken not too long ago by the looks of it. She was walking back into her house in the photo and it looked like it was taken from a passing car. The photo itself isn’t what really concerned me though, the message written on the back did that. “What you seek can be found in the town of Eagles Peak”, the note read in a singsongy way. I’d never seen Shaoni’s handwriting but given the circumstances I was sure that’s what I was looking at.
I looked up at Rocco who looked more serious than I’d ever seen him.
“Now I don’t know what happened to that girl but somethin’ hurt her before we knew her. If that’s the somethin’ that did, and I’m guessin’ it is lookin’ atcha’. I say we should hurt em’ back.”
Rocco told me with cold steel in his voice. It was weird, hearing him speak without a hint of a joke or over exaggerated movement. We finally found something that the little menace to society could focus on, something… productive.
“My hands are tied, I don’t think anyone here would take kindly to me just attacking someone. Besides, look at him, he’s taller and obviously stringer than me. I’m just a scrawny guy who’s way out of his element, I don’t want a fight. Just… keep an eye on him, maybe we can find something to turn the others against him?”
It wasn’t the answer Rocco was looking for, that’s for sure. He deflated at my words, I’m sure he wanted to go in guns blazing and confront Brooke with what we thought we knew. That wasn’t really going to be an option here, even if it was I’d rather not do that.
“Oh, one more thing, Don’t let Brooke go back into town if he tries to leave, I don’t care how you do it just don’t let him leave.”
I added as an evil grin crossed Rocco’s face.
“Aye’ aye’ captain!”
He cried, raising a paw to his head and saluting me.
Just then I heard someone knocking, no rustling? Screwing around with the front flap to the tepee trying to get my attention. I opened it only to see, “Shaoni?”
“I wanted to ask about the visions today, I’ve talked to everyone else but I couldn’t find you so I guessed you’d be at… is that a raccoon?”
Shaoni stopped, seeing Rocco frozen mid step behind me as he tried and failed to run before she saw him. Realizing he’d been seen Rocco twirled around and in a way only he could announced,
“Whatcha’ think you were looking at Pocahontas?”
“Oh? It talks as well?”
Shaoni said, somewhere between bewildered and bemused as she looked between me and the mouthy Raccoon.
“Course I talk! I thought you woulda’ seen somethin’ like that when you were busy painting with all the colors of the wind!”
Rocco yelled back at her. I wasn’t sure if he was actually offended by Shaoni’s questions, or just deliberately trying to be a nuisance, probably the second thing. I whirled around and glared at Rocco, holding my finger to my mouth in an attempt to shut him up. For once he actually listened.
“I… sorry about him, he’s always like that, part of his charm you know.”
I said with a shrug and a nervous chuckle. Shaoni shook her head dismissively and continued.
“Did you see anything in the cave that you wanted to talk about?”
She asked me, now sounding a little annoyed. I thought back to my father and that hospital room, I wasn’t really ready to talk about that with anyone just yet. But I did have some new questions about how I got into this whole mess in the first place.
“You said back in Imalone you saved me because I realized there was a price for being saved. That wasn’t really it though was it? I saw it again, I could understand you this time. You were going to save me regardless. So why mark me Shaoni? Why did you really bring me here?!”
I said, my voice raising outside of my control as I spoke. I had to finally admit to myself that I was sick and tired of being dragged around in the dark. I was suddenly furious and I didn’t care who it was standing in front of me, I wanted an answer.
“Those men were ruining my name, they thought they were following the Thunderbird but it was just some idea of me they had come up with. They used me to justify their horrid actions and I came to put a stop to it. You were there and when I offered you a deal you didn’t fight it. That’s why I marked you.”
Shaoni spoke quickly, like she wanted to avoid the subject, all but turning around and leaving right then.
“Bullshit! I want an answer Shaoni, a real answer!”
I yelled at her, my fury taking full control of me. Shaoni was silent for a minute, when she finally spoke she looked down, never meeting my eyes as she softly said.
“You remind me of someone from a long time ago. They were blind to the way of things at first, an outsider even. In time though, he became what bound our people together as one family. I don’t have a better answer for you than that. I wasn’t sure I should’ve chosen you at first, I had a feeling that day and I followed it. What you’ve done since you’ve got here, how you’ve handled learning what little you know about the world of the supernatural. Those things are what tell me I made the right choice.”
As she walked away I thought I saw tears reflecting in the moonlight shown on her face. As I settled down I swore I heard soft sobs, echoing across the camp long into the night.

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.

Creating custom visualizations in Power BI involves several steps and methods, depending on the level of customization and the type of visual you want to create.
Here are some of the best approaches:

1. Using Custom Visuals from AppSource

Power BI AppSource is a marketplace where you can find a wide variety of pre-built custom visuals created by Microsoft and third-party developers. To use these visuals:
For Example "Sankey Diagram for Power BI by ChartExpo", "Comparison Bar Chart for Power BI by ChartExpo" , "Likert Scale Chart for Power BI by ChartExpo" and "Multi-Axis Line Chart for Power BI by ChartExpo"

1. Go to the Visualizations pane in Power BI Desktop.
2. Click on the three dots (…) and select “Get more visuals.”
3. Browse or search for the visual you need.
4. Add the visual to your report and configure it as required.

2. Creating Custom Visuals with R or Python

Power BI supports custom visuals created using R and Python, which are powerful for advanced analytics and custom visualizations.

1. Enable R or Python scripting:
   • Go to File > Options and settings > Options > R scripting or Python scripting.
   • Set up the R or Python environment if you haven’t already.
2. Add a visual:
   • Click on R or Python visual from the Visualizations pane.
   • Write your R or Python script in the script editor. The script should generate a plot using libraries such as ggplot2 for R or matplotlib for Python.
3. Load data into the visual using the data fields, and Power BI will execute the script to render the visual.

3. Building Custom Visuals with Power BI Developer Tools

For highly customized visuals, you can use the Power BI Developer Tools to create visuals using JavaScript and TypeScript.

1. Set up the development environment:
   • Install Node.js and npm.
   • Install the Power BI Visuals Tools: npm install -g powerbi-visuals-tools.
2. Create a new visual project:
   • Use the command: pbiviz new to create a new custom visual project.
   • Navigate to the project directory: cd .
3. Develop the visual:
   • Modify the source code in the /src directory. You can use D3.js or any other JavaScript library to create your visual.
4. Test the visual:
   • Use pbiviz start to run a local server that allows you to test your visual in Power BI.
5. Package and deploy the visual:
   • Use pbiviz package to create a .pbiviz file.
   • Import this file into Power BI by selecting Import from file under the Visualizations pane.

4. Using Power BI Themes and Custom Formatting

For custom styling and formatting, you can create a Power BI theme file (JSON) to define colors, fonts, and other visual styles.

1. Create a JSON theme file with custom color palettes and formatting options.
2. Import the theme into Power BI:
   • Go to Home > Switch Theme > Import Theme.
   • Select your JSON file to apply the custom theme to your report.

Best Practices for Creating Custom Visuals

• Plan your visualization: Understand the data and the story you want to tell. Sketch out your visual before starting the development.
• Use existing libraries: Leverage libraries like D3.js for JavaScript or ggplot2 for R to simplify development.
• Optimize performance: Ensure that your custom visuals are optimized for performance, especially when dealing with large datasets.
• Test thoroughly: Test your visuals in different scenarios and with various data to ensure they work as expected.
• Follow guidelines: Adhere to Power BI’s best practices and guidelines for custom visuals to ensure compatibility and usability

execuse me for my english, it's not my first language and I'm crying a lot.
I attend a school which is for engineers. I am 16 years old i don't know exactly how to explain this because other school systems are very different.
I just want to cry because i feel useless.
I feel like I'm failing and maybe this isn't the right choice for me because i can't turn any assignments in due to anxiety and not being able to finish them because i find them so difficult and i make a mistake every 20 secs.
By assignments i mean technical drawings which is a very important subject for my course and it is just so so so stresseful.
Also, many drawings require taking measurements of furniture in my house and i can't do that because my family would make fun of me and i hate them so much. For this reasons, I've already gotten some bad grades.
i feel so unmotivated and i want to give up everything.

Hi, my mom owns a 2019 Suzuki Swift. Last year the AC system started emitting unpleasant smells when turned on, so she went to a mechanic and he changed the cabin filter and ozonated the inside of the car. During that visit he gave my mom two advices - to turn off the AC around 5 minutes before stopping the car to decrease mold growth (could you also tell me if you should really do that bc it sounds like bullshit) and to get the refrigerant refilled before the following season bc it may be running low and using the AC with low level of the refrigerant will destroy the compressor. So this year came and she followed the advice and took the car to another mechanic and he told her that her car runs on a new-generation refirgerant (R1234yf) and that if she wants to refill the AC system with it she needs to go to another shop since they don't have it and it's going to be expensive, but he told my mom that he can drain the new refrigerant from the system and fill it with the old one. So here my question is - can the refrigerant be already leaking from a 5-year-old car and if yes, can an AC system designed to work with the new refrigerant run on an older generation one?

Just that. That, right there.
Now, a bit of context. I'm not from the US, but a Latin American country. I work as an ESL Teacher, was born here and learned the language through a lot of exposition to it (R's been pretty helpful for this).
These last 5 months, I've felt it more and more. Old school teachers are a joke. Old people in general, but ESL Old school teachers are just the fucking worst. I graduated 10 years ago, and thought school was a waste of time unless you complemented it with your own learning. 10 years, 10 YEARS later, and it's still the same, except now people use GPT instead of Google to cheat. And it's not the students fault. It's the parents AND the teachers.
Teachers are still bringing their audios with "exercise 1, part" and expecting students to learn by just completing grammar tests and listening comprehensions. I've implemented things like roleplays, movie watching, debates, writing stories, adapting stories to a new format, whatever you want. But I ALWAYS some old HAG who's been there for ages telling me "are you sure about that? That didn't work for me when I tried it". Bitch, YOU had that experience. Let me have mine. If it doesn't work, ok, we try something else. You get to know these kids and understand what they feel.
On top of it, they expect students to dedicate 10 minutes to a useless platform to "practice their english", while they have a hundred more platforms for different subjects, and also have a social life. Like dude, NO. I've always told them "guys, insert english into your life naturally. Watch videos, watch movies, listen to music, chat with others on Discord or Snapchat." The old hags always say that's not a hermetic way to learn it. Well yeah, stupid, because hermetic english is BORING. No one cares about your class unless you make them care, with fun stuff.
And even on academies this happens. SOMEONE KILL THESE DINOSAURS ALREADY.
Sorry, I took the purpose of the sub very literally, and just went for it. I know not all old timers are like this. Some are amazing. I've had 2 that were amazing, both as teachers and as co-workers. But the majority should already know, with their Master's and hundreds of hours, that people in ESL countries DON'T CARE about the language unless we make them care.
Peace.

Hi, im new here i want some advice since my surgery is in Mexico I've been feeling so tired lately, I cannot think clearly I have so many headaches, I drink 60g to 80 g of protein on this liquid diet but I feel like I can't handle all the protein shakes 😭 they mess up with my stomach, now I'm getting acne when before doing the liquid diet I didn't have acne. My surgery is tomorrow and I'm trying to be so strong to overcome all this. I'm 25 years old and my doctor suggested I needed to have gastric bypass because my IMC was 45.5 i weight about 116 kg now I'm so scared for some reason 😭 like I used to drink always plain water and now I feel like I'm drinking to many "non sugar drinks but is all processed " Also the family situation since I live with my mother and step father. during the liquid diet has been so difficult to see them eat junk food in front of me , sometimes I just feel like I'm not hungry and it doesn't bother me because i really want a change in my life and my family is not that encouraging to me. I'm here just hoping to see if anyone felt the same as me before the surgery. (sorry in advance for my bad English I'm from mexico)