#Battery performance testing

[semcoinfratechworld]

How Battery Aging Tests Ensure Reliable Lithium-Ion Battery Development?

 In today’s electrified world, lithium-ion batteries are the backbone of everything from smartphones to electric vehicles and energy storage systems. As demand surges, ensuring their performance, safety, and reliability is non-negotiable.

While innovations in battery-making machines and battery-making equipment have streamlined the lithium-ion battery assembly process, the real quality benchmark lies in rigorous Battery Aging Tests.

What Are Battery Aging Tests and Why Do They Matter?

Battery Aging Tests simulate long-term usage by exposing lithium-ion battery packs to controlled stress. This vital step in Battery Product Development allows engineers to spot degradation patterns and optimize production using advanced battery testing equipment.

Key Degradation Mechanisms Identified by Aging Tests

Capacity Fade: Aging highlights how energy capacity reduces over time, vital data for Battery Life Cycle Testing and optimizing materials.

Internal Resistance Buildup: Leads to less power and more heat. Battery Performance Testing pinpoints when and why this happens.

Cycle Life Loss: Determines how many cycles a lithium-ion battery pack can endure without failure.

Safety Risks: Detects risks like gas leaks, thermal runaways, and internal shorts during lithium battery pack assembly.

 Benefits of Battery Aging Testing

Material Optimization: Helps select ideal electrodes and electrolytes for longevity.

Improved Manufacturing: Identifies flaws in the battery cell making machine or process.

Thermal Management: Validates cooling systems for safe operation.

BMS Tuning: Enhances Battery Management Systems with real-world data from Battery Reliability Testing.

Business Advantages of Rigorous Testing

Fewer warranty issues

Better brand reputation

Stronger customer trust

Faster go-to-market timelines

Competitive edge in lithium-ion battery assembly

Core Types of Battery Aging Tests

Calendar Aging – Simulates long-term storage impact

Cycle Aging – Tests wear from repeated use

Thermal Cycling – Assesses temperature resilience

Abuse Testing – Ensures safety under extreme conditions

Conclusion

To build safe and long-lasting lithium-ion batteries, Battery Aging Tests are indispensable. Combined with cutting-edge battery testing equipment, battery cell making machines, and advanced battery making equipment, these tests ensure that each product meets the industry's highest standards. Embracing these practices is the key to reliable, future-ready lithium-ion battery packs.

[historyofguns]

The article, written by Alan M. Rice for The Armory Life, reviews the Meprolight Tru-Vision SR red dot sight, a compact and robust rifle optic designed by Meprolight, a company known for its military-grade optics. This particular product features a 65 MOA Speed Ring reticle with a 2 MOA dot, which can be switched based on user preference and is compatible with night vision. The sight is noted for its high durability, lightweight construction, and extensive battery life, which exceeds 10,000 hours. It includes an automatic brightness adjustment feature and enters a power-saving sleep mode after 25 minutes of inactivity. The review emphasizes the optic's adaptations, including its adherence to military standards and suitability for a variety of tactical and law enforcement applications. Priced at $599.99, the article highlights the Tru-Vision SR's value for its premium features and the trustworthiness of Meprolight as a manufacturer. The review concludes by recommending the sight for its reliability and effectiveness in real-world tactical shooting scenarios.

[luna-azzurra]

How to write hospital scenes 

From someone who’s definitely been in too many and would very much like a refund...ツ

⊹ Waiting rooms are emotional purgatory. They’re too bright, too quiet, and weirdly timeless. Fluorescent lights buzzing, TVs playing muted news no one watches, coffee that tastes like burnt stress. People aren’t relaxing in there, they’re just existing, awkwardly pretending their phones are interesting while dissociating at 40% battery.

⊹ Everyone talks in a whisper, but not because it’s respectful, no, it just feels wrong to speak normally. Like the walls might be listening, like if you talk too loud, something worse might happen, even the loud people get quiet in hospitals.

⊹ Overnight stays are hell. hospital chairs? medieval torture devices with upholstery. even if someone’s trying to nap next to a patient, they’re not sleeping. They’re half-listening to the symphony of beeping machines, nurse shoes squeaking, the occasional cough, and distant Code Something crackling over the intercom. it’s anxiety with a blanket.

⊹ The smell is unforgettable, like it’s not just antiseptic. it’s plastic and cafeteria meatloaf and sweat and fear and the smell of a place where people are very much not okay. the first time your character walks in, it’ll hit them like a wall. later, they might not even notice, or maybe it’s the only thing they can smell for days after.

⊹ Talking to doctors is a weird performance. You're trying to be calm, they’re trying to be calm. But no one is calm, your character wants to ask 47 questions and not sound desperate. The doctor explains things like they’re narrating a science video, and when they leave, someone will immediately go “wait... we forgot to ask” every. single. time.

⊹ Monitors beep constantly. half the time, it’s nothing. A wire got loose, someone rolled over. But the second it is something, the vibe shifts fast. Nurses appear like ghosts, machines start going off, and everyone starts moving. And your character? they might freeze, or panic, or forget they have lungs. Go with whatever makes sense for them, but make it visceral.

⊹ Time goes full funhouse mirror. Ten minutes waiting for test results feels like a year. A full hour stretches into eternity, meanwhile, three hours can pass without anyone realizing it. You can use this in your pacing, make it drag when the waiting is unbearable.

⊹ Hospital cafeteria food: Garbage. It’s either offensively bland or stupidly overpriced. The grilled cheese is six dollars and tastes like regret, and someone will 100% cry into a cold sandwich at 3am, because grief doesn’t care where you are.

⊹ People start fixating on tiny, random things. They can’t control the big stuff, so their brain zeroes in on a sock slipping off, a crooked IV pole, the repetitive drip-drip-drip of medication. Let them obsess over something small, it’s how the brain copes with being completely powerless...

[keyworthgarages]

[maheshtelecom]

📸✨ Is the Xiaomi 14 Ultra Worth ₹1 Lakh? 🚀

📸✨ Is the Xiaomi 14 Ultra Worth ₹1 Lakh? 🚀 With its cutting-edge camera and powerful smartphone capabilities, the Xiaomi 14 Ultra promises a lot. But does it live up to the hype and price tag? 🤔 Find out in our detailed review! 🎥👇 🔗 https://youtu.be/KxGdO-1NfGo Xiaomi14Ultra #TechReview #MobilePhotography #WorthIt #Xiaomi #CameraPhone #TechLovers #Innovation #GadgetReview…

[androidaddictsx]

Samsung Galaxy Z Fold 5 vs Fold 4 Battery Drain Test

The Galaxy Z Fold 5 has a 4,400mAh battery just like the Z Fold 4 - but is the new Snapdragon 8 Gen 2 much more efficient? Let's find out in this battery drain test! #zfold5 #zfold4

The Galaxy Z Fold 5 has a 4,400mAh battery just like the Z Fold 4 – but is the new Snapdragon 8 Gen 2 much more efficient? Let’s find out in this battery drain test! 00:00 Intro01:00 4K Video Recording01:26 4K Video Render02:13 Phone Call02:42 Standby Test03:35 Twitter04:04 Instagram04:35 TikTok04:58 Reddit05:25 Spotify05:50 YouTube06:28 Genshin Impact07:00 PUBG07:17 Final Thoughts Sorry for…

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Four

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, autistic breakdown on page, racing accidents (Las Vegas 2023), domestic fluff, slight (?) cliffhanger

Notes — Another longggg one! Hope you love it.

2023 (Las Vegas)

It was one of those overcast afternoons where the sky couldn’t decide if it wanted to rain or not. The light through the huge windows was grey and flat, and the air inside the rented house-slash-shoot-location had that odd, sterile warmth that came from too many camera batteries and ring lights and people trying to look casual for content.

The house itself was the kind of place you couldn’t quite imagine anyone actually living in — all clean lines, brushed steel, and exposed concrete. There were too many stairs. Too many echoey corners. And absolutely no soft lighting. It had been chosen for aesthetics, not comfort.

Amelia sat curled in the corner of the oversized leather sofa, knees tucked under her, one hand gripping her iPad, the other fidgeting absently with the drawstring of a hoodie that had somehow ended up in her lap. She hadn’t asked for it. Someone had draped it over her when she sat down, and now it was hers, apparently. That was fine. She liked the weight of it.

Her focus, however, was fixed entirely on her screen. The Vegas GP loomed ahead — a race full of unknowns, simulations stacked high with red flags and conditional parameters that changed every time she blinked. The track was new, the surface barely tested, the layout odd and inconsistent. Every variable gave her brain another reason to loop. And loop. And loop.

She was halfway through calculating braking loads based on preliminary corner speeds when Lando wandered past, all soft socks and too-long limbs, dragging one arm into a puffer jacket he wasn’t really planning to zip. He slowed when he saw her, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You gonna wear that for a photo?” He asked, nodding at the hoodie.

Amelia didn’t look up. “No.”

He paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “You sure? You’d look cute.”

She blinked once, then met his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for cute. I’m calculating brake performance for a track we have literally never raced on before. There are so many variables. I’m stressed.”

Across the room, Max Fewtrell barked a laugh, his voice echoing faintly as he adjusted a light stand. “That’s the most Amelia sentence I’ve ever heard. Like, ever.”

Pietra, seated on the floor nearby in flared jeans and a cloud-soft crewneck, turned toward Amelia with a gentle smile. She had a scrunchie looped around her wrist and two bracelets Amelia had given her after a layover in Japan. “You can do both,” Pietra said warmly. “Be cute and stressed.”

Amelia looked at her, expression softening around the eyes. “Honestly, I just want to stay sat down.”

“Okay,” Pietra said, and leaned sideways to gently press her shoulder against Amelia’s. “Then we’ll sit. Together.”

Amelia didn’t say thank you. But she didn’t move away, either.

Lando reappeared a moment later with a bottle of water in one hand and a small protein bar in the other. He plopped onto the armrest beside her, knees brushing hers. His eyes flicked to the hoodie.

“You know that one’s technically mine.”

“I don’t care,” Amelia said without looking up.

He grinned. “I figured.” He nudged her ankle gently with his socked foot. “Still think it’d look better on you anyway.”

“That’s not difficult,” she replied, tugging the cuff of the hoodie over her hand. Then, after a pause, she added flatly, “That was a joke.”

Max dropped into a nearby chair, flinging one leg over the side with practiced drama. “Just one picture of you, Amelia? Come on, people would love it. Bit of behind-the-scenes. The fans adore when you’re in anything.”

Amelia didn’t even blink. “No thank you.”

Lando snorted into his water bottle. Pietra let out a warm laugh. “Stop bothering her, Max. Lando does enough of that.”

“Oi,” Lando said, mock-affronted. “Leave me out of this.”

“You’re both bothering me,” Amelia replied, perfectly even. “I’m trying to work. I already hate the Vegas track.”

He turned his full attention to her now, brows lifting. “Why? We haven’t even been yet.”

“Because it’s new!” she burst out, sharper than she meant to. The volume bounced off the walls. She winced immediately, ducking her head into her shoulder. Her voice dropped low, controlled. “Because it’s new and we haven’t raced it before and that means no past data to lean on. That means sim work based on theoretical grip levels. That means error margins get wider. And that means I have to prepare twice as hard with half as much certainty.”

There was a pause.

“...Fair enough,” Lando said gently.

“I hate guessing,” she mumbled.

“No one likes guessing,” Pietra offered.

Amelia gave a small nod. “I like control. I like knowing.”

Max opened his mouth like he was about to tease her, then caught the subtle tension in her shoulders and wisely shut it again.

Lando tapped the top of her tablet lightly with one finger. “Well. You’ll figure it out, baby. You always do.”

She glanced up at him. “Because it’s my job.”

“And because you’re brilliant.”

She didn’t respond, but the corner of her mouth ticked upward.

“Are you wearing that to dinner later?” Pietra asked, gesturing to the hoodie.

Amelia looked down at it, then back at her. “Yes. I don’t want to change. I’m comfortable.”

Pietra smiled. “Good. I’ll wear mine too. We’ll match.”

“Accidentally?”

“Deliberately.”

Amelia considered that. “Okay. But only if we sit near the window.”

Pietra beamed. “Done.”

Lando looked between them, then leaned back on his hands. “You’ve replaced me.”

Amelia didn’t even blink. “I only want to kiss you.”

He made a thoughtful face. “Alright. I’ll allow it.”

Max rolled his eyes. “You’re both so weird.”

“I’m autistic,” Amelia said plainly.

“You’re the weird one,” Pietra added to Max.

“Rude,” Max said.

Lando grinned. “You’re still in love with us.”

“Terrible.”

Outside, the sky finally made up its mind — light rain pattering against the windows in slow, scattered streaks.

Inside, Amelia tucked the hoodie tighter around her, legs still folded, checklist still glowing on the iPad in her lap. Her head leaned lightly against Pietra’s shoulder now, and Lando’s hand rested on her shin — grounding, present, always within reach.

They’d survive Vegas. They would.

Amelia exhaled through her nose. “I need a backup plan for the Sector 2 hairpin.”

“You’ll come up with one,” Lando said, completely sure.

And she would.

Because she always did.

—

The sim suite smelled faintly of coffee and carpet glue.

It was making Amelia feel violently ill.

It was well past nine in the evening, and the McLaren Technology Centre was mostly dark — lights dimmed, staff dispersed, and only the low hum of servers and quiet keystrokes from the strategy team still working in the next room. On the main screen, a full layout of the Las Vegas circuit was overlaid with predictive data. Telemetry lines in orange and blue flickered in real time, charting Oscar’s run.

Inside the sim rig, Oscar exhaled sharply and let the steering wheel go slack as the run ended.

“Turn ten still feels off,” he said, voice crackling slightly through the headset. “Rear snaps too easily on downshift. It’s like— I don’t know. It just unloads.”

Amelia stood beside the sim rig, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t look at Oscar as she replied. She was looking at the data instead. “We’re too aggressive with the engine braking into the apex,” she said. “You’re already on a mid-bite diff setting. I can pull back the torque map slightly — see if we can stabilise it.”

Oscar lifted his visor and blinked into the low lighting. “We tried that earlier though.”

“That was with a higher track temp sim,” one of the strategy engineers chimed in from his desk.

Amelia nodded. “This time we’re modelling it colder. Night session, cooler surface, lower grip. It’s a different profile now.”

Oscar gave her a skeptical look. “You think it’ll make the difference?”

“I don’t know,” she said flatly. “We run tests. And I wait for the results.”

He frowned at her. “You’re stressed.”

“I’m not stressed,” Amelia replied. “I’m tired. And annoyed. This track is stupid.”

The strategist behind her snorted into his water bottle. “That’s the technical term, is it?”

“Yes,” she said, deadpan. “Stupid.”

Oscar raised a hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. No argument from me.”

Amelia stepped forward and typed something into the control console. “I’ll load the next setup with the revised map and a minor front wing tweak. You’ll run sectors two and three only.”

Oscar nodded, settling back into the seat. “Short run. Got it.”

“Not just short,” Amelia added. “Precision. I want minimal steering corrections. No overcommitting. If we’re going to adjust setup for the race, I need to see your clean line.”

Behind her, Lando’s voice chimed in from the doorway, “someone’s feeling bossy tonight.”

Amelia didn’t turn around. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m just here to observe,” Lando said, stepping in with a smoothie and a faint smirk. “Oscar’s face is funny when he gets told off for oversteering.”

Oscar flipped him off without lifting his head.

Amelia keyed in the updated run. “I don’t care what his face does. I care about what the car does.”

Lando walked over, watching the screen over her shoulder. “What’s the target delta?”

“Half a second gain from his last run if the balance correction holds.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “Ambitious.”

“It’s not,” Amelia replied. “It’s necessary.”

There was a pause.

“You doing okay, baby?” He asked, a bit more gently now.

“I will be fine,” she said. “After Vegas is over and no one asks me to model tyre deg on untested tarmac again.”

Oscar cleared his throat from the rig. “Not to interrupt, but—uh—ready when you are.”

“Go ahead,” Amelia said, refocusing instantly. “Cold tyres, revised torque, short sector two and three run. Confirm.”

“Confirmed,” Oscar replied.

The sim kicked back into life. Virtual Vegas, all garish lights and overblown spectacle, unfurled across the screen. Oscar’s car dove into sector two with smoother transitions, noticeably fewer corrections in the corners.

“Better,” Amelia muttered, half to herself.

Oscar’s voice came through again. “Still doesn’t feel natural, but it’s drivable now.”

“We don’t need natural,” she said. “We need consistency.”

Oscar snorted. “You should get that put on a mug.”

“I did,” Lando added from behind her. Sarcastically. “It’s in our kitchen. Pink ceramic. Very cute.”

Amelia didn’t respond to that. She was too busy watching the data smooth out. Torque delivery flattened. Brake pressure stayed linear. The car made it through turn ten without any hint of snap.

Finally, she let out a breath. “Alright. That’s something we can build on.”

Oscar coasted to a stop in the sim. “You going to sleep tonight?”

“No,” Amelia said plainly. “I’m going to write a full report for Andrea and then run sector modelling for Sunday. Maybe tomorrow I’ll sleep.”

Lando moved closer, brushing his hand against hers lightly. “You’ll sleep. I’ll make sure of it.”

Amelia didn’t argue, but she didn’t confirm either.

Instead, she turned back to the engineers. “We’ll do a full load run tomorrow, weather sim in two parts. I’ll rework the wing config tonight.”

Oscar pulled off his gloves. “Do we ever do anything the easy way?”

“No,” Amelia said simply. “But if we want to win, we’re going to have to do it the hard way.”

Lando smiled at that. “Now that should go on a mug.”

—

The Woking flat was dark except for the glow of Amelia’s laptop screen and the soft blue hue of the night bleeding in through the curtains.

Lando had been asleep for the last hour. Or at least, he’d been pretending to be—chest rising slow and steady under the covers, one arm thrown across the pillow she’d vacated earlier. He hadn’t moved, even when she’d shifted to the desk by the window and started typing furiously with only a desk lamp and the stars for company.

She’d barely noticed how stiff her back had become. Her legs were tucked beneath her again, one sock half-rolled, posture twisted into something unnatural. Her fingers moved with focused speed, mapping Oscar’s sector performance against a projected tyre wear curve.

“Amelia,” Lando said, voice rough from sleep but still gentle. “Baby. Come back to bed.”

She didn’t look up. “I’m almost done.”

“You’ve been almost done for forty minutes.”

“That’s because I keep finding new things to optimise,” she replied, tapping a key with just a little too much force. “The grip model’s still off in sector three. I think the sim is overcompensating for the surface temp. If Oscar brakes, he’s going to overshoot.”

Lando sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. “You know you’re going to fix it all tomorrow anyway, right? It doesn’t all need to happen tonight.”

“It does,” she said immediately. “It does, because it’s unpredictable, and if I don’t account for everything now, I’ll be scrambling when I’m supposed to be thinking clearly. And I hate scrambling.”

He rolled out of bed with a sleepy grunt and crossed the room to her, quiet and barefoot on the plush carpet. When he reached her, he leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folded, watching her for a long moment. Not judging. Just… taking her in.

“You’re spiralling,” he said simply.

“No, I’m working.”

“Amelia.”

That one word, soft and firm and Lando-shaped, made her pause.

She didn’t meet his eyes, but her hands stilled over the keyboard. Her mouth was set in a thin line. Tired. Frustrated.

“I don’t know how to switch it off,” she admitted, barely above a whisper. “Not when I know I haven’t solved the problem.”

“I know,” he said, and gently reached to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. “But right now the problem is that you’re running on fumes, and if you don’t rest, you’re not going to solve anything.”

“But—”

“You’ll still be brilliant in the morning. I promise.”

She swallowed, jaw tense. “I hate how much I care. I hate that it makes me feel—” She clenched one hand into a fist. “Like I’m chasing something I can never quite catch. Because there’s always something else to fix.”

“I know,” Lando said again. “But you’re allowed to rest without fixing everything first. That doesn’t make you less good at your job. It just makes you human, yeah?”

Amelia looked at him finally. Her eyes were glassy, but not tearful. Just full — with pressure, with effort, with the weight of wanting to be the best and feeling like she had to prove it constantly.

He reached down and took her hand in his.

“Come to bed,” he said gently. “I’ll lie awake with you if your brain won’t shut up. We can talk about strategy, or nothing at all. But I want you with me.”

Amelia hesitated. Then closed her laptop with a soft click.

“Okay,” she said, voice a little hollow from the sudden shift in momentum. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Lando squeezed her hand and led her back toward the bed. She climbed in beside him, limbs slow and uncertain, like she wasn’t sure how to be still. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“You’re allowed to rest,” he whispered. “You’re allowed to exist outside of your job.”

She let out a long, shaky breath. “I know.”

“Say it like you believe it.”

“I’m allowed to rest,” she repeated, curling into him. “Even if I haven’t fixed everything.”

He smiled against her skin. “Good girl.”

Amelia relaxed by inches, not all at once, never that, but her breath began to slow, her hands stopped fidgeting, and the tension in her shoulders faded as his warmth soaked into her.

It was enough.

—

Amelia stirred slowly, the weight of Lando’s arm still draped across her waist, his breathing deep and even behind her.

Her brain came online before her eyes opened. The first thought was always a race.

Telemetry. Overnight sim data. Updated Vegas surface temps. Sector three.

She kept her eyes shut. Just for a moment longer.

Her hand reached, automatically, half-blind, toward the bedside table. She found her phone and lit the screen — brightness low, eyes squinting. There was a new email flagged from McLaren strategy. An attachment from the sim team. A message from Oscar. Just a quick one.

Brake marker change in T11? Feel like it’s off. Can we run it again?

Her thumb hovered over the reply button.

Then a low, sleepy voice rumbled behind her ear. “If you answer that, I’m going to bite you.”

She stilled.

Lando’s voice was rough with sleep, his face still half buried in her hair, but his grip on her waist tightened just slightly — enough to ground her, enough to keep her in the moment.

“I wasn’t going to answer,” she said softly. “I was just checking—”

“You were doing the exact thing we talked about,” he said, not unkindly. “Waking up and not even giving yourself ten minutes to take care of yourself before you start thinking about everyone else.”

She blinked. Her screen dimmed and went black. She let the phone fall gently back onto the bed.

Lando pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. “Thank you.”

“I really wasn’t going to do anything,” she murmured again, not sure why she was defending it. “I just needed to know what’s going on. So I could stop thinking about it.”

“I get that.” He kissed the back of her neck this time, a little firmer. “But I also know you. One look turns into an hour of work. You don’t know how to stop unless someone physically pins you down.”

She rolled onto her back to look at him. His hair was flattened on one side. His eyes were sleepy but open now, watching her like she was something fragile he was determined not to drop.

“I just don’t want to miss something important,” she said. “Vegas is proving to be a nightmare.”

“We’ll be fine. You’ll be better than fine.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I can guarantee that if you burn yourself out now, you won’t be able to fix the problems when they actually matter.”

Her lips twisted into something half-smile, half-grimace. “That’s annoying because it’s true.”

“Mm.” He nuzzled her hairline. “I like you when you’re being all smart-pants Amelia,” Lando said, pulling her closer again. “But I like it better when you’re well-rested.”

She sighed and let herself relax, her head falling against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat — steady and calm — the opposite of her usual thrum of anxious energy.

He tapped her hip. “Tell you what. You stay here, in bed, with me for fifteen more minutes. Then I’ll get up and bring you your laptop, your iPad, three highlighters and whatever else you need. Deal?”

She closed her eyes. Thought about saying no. Thought about Vegas. Then she nodded.

“Deal.”

Lando smiled against her temple. “My girl.”

—

Las Vegas

Amelia found herself blinking too fast at the way the skyline shimmered. There was no charm, there was only overstimulation. Neon screamed from every building; engines echoed off concrete; something in the air smelled like fried sugar.

Her stomach turned.

As they moved through the paddock, she turned sharply to her dad, who was walking beside her, and asked, "Can I do a track walk later? I need to see the surface in person. Kerb structure, cambers. The sim doesn’t replicate the actual feel, not at night."

Zak gave her a careful look, then a sigh that told her the answer before he said it. “Honey… I’m sorry. They’re limiting access this weekend. Safety regulations, plus a logistical headache with all the road closures. Sorry, kiddo."

She stopped walking entirely. “What do you mean? That’s ridiculous. My understanding of this track is directly tied to driver performance.”

“I know that,” Zak said, placating. “But it’s out of my hands. FIA’s ruling.”

Amelia blinked. Hard. Her jaw set. Her brain scrambled to make the logic work — and couldn’t. The denial didn’t make sense from a safety standpoint or a performance one, and worse, it was illogical and personal.

She threw both hands out in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? What kind of regulatory framework tells the people making car decisions that they can’t assess the track in person?”

Zak ran a hand down his face. “I know. Believe me, I tried. I even—”

“No, this is absurd,” Amelia went on, ignoring the curious glances of passing engineers and team staff. “I’m being told to rely on visual models and telemetry estimates on a track that doesn’t exist on any previous calendar. Dad.”

That word slipped out sharp and unimpressed.

Zak winced. “You’re mad at the wrong person.”

Amelia exhaled through her nose and folded her arms. “I’m mad at everyone.”

Lando, a few steps ahead, doubled back when he realised she wasn’t beside him anymore. “Everything okay?”

“She’s not allowed to walk the track,” Zak supplied.

Lando’s brows rose. “Why not?”

“Ask the FIA,” Amelia muttered, rocking slightly on her heels, clearly overstimulated and trying not to explode about it.

Lando gave a low whistle, stepping up beside her. “That’s proper stupid.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said, voice clipped.

Lando’s hand slid to the small of her back. Just the lightest pressure. She leaned into it instinctively, grounding herself.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured. “You’ve been simulating this track for two months. You probably know it better than anyone else already.”

Amelia didn’t answer right away. She looked out at the chaos of the strip behind the paddock fencing, then back at the rows of garages, the closed doors, the high fences. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

Zak, softer now, said, “Hey. Don’t give this the power to make you wobble, alright? You’ve got this!”

Her face didn’t soften, but her posture did, just slightly. She nodded, tight and short.

Then, “If Oscar crashes because I misjudge Turn 12 apex grip, I’m going to email the FIA and tell them to eat gravel.”

Lando grinned. “There she is. My beautiful, terrifying wife.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” He leaned in to kiss the side of her head and whispered, “Now stop worrying so much.”

—

The media room was lit like a game show. Two stools, a camera crew, a backdrop with the McLaren logo, and a table of whiteboards and markers.

Oscar looked mildly bored. Lando looked amused. Amelia looked like she’s been forced to be there (she had).

A social media coordinator beamed behind the camera. “Okay, welcome to a special edition of 'Who Knows Her Best!'  We’ve got our race engineer Amelia here, and joining us are her driver, Oscar Piastri—”

Oscar gave an awkward little wave.

“—and her husband, Lando Norris!”

Lando winked at the camera.

Amelia stared dead ahead. “You have ten minutes. I have things to do.”

“Great! First question—What’s Amelia’s favourite food?”

Lando started writing instantly.

Oscar hesitated. “Does coffee count?”

Amelia frowned. “No. You don’t chew coffee.”

He groaned and scrawled something anyway.

“Alright—reveal!”

Lando flipped his board: Marco’s Italian Marinara Pizza Oscar’s board: …Toast?

Amelia pursed her lips. “Lando’s right.”

Oscar muttered, “She eats toast every morning.”

“I eat it because it's efficient, not because it brings me joy,” she replied.

Next question.

“Okay—what’s Amelia’s biggest pet peeve?”

Oscar didn’t hesitate.

Lando paused and narrowed his eyes. “Only one?”

They flipped.

Oscar: Inefficiency Lando: People breathing loudly near her

Amelia blinked. “Both are right. I can’t put one above the other.”

Lando smirked. “So I get half a point?”

“We didn’t agree on half points.” She huffed.

Oscar stifled a laugh.

The coordinator laughed nervously. “Alright! Final question: What’s her idea of a perfect day off?”

The boys scribbled.

Reveal:

Oscar: A quiet room, iPad fully charged, noise-canceling headphones Lando: No phones. No noise. Me, her, somewhere nobody can find us.

Amelia looked at both answers, then spoke flatly.

“Oscar’s is my ideal race-weekend. Lando’s is correct for a non-race-weekend.”

Lando grinned. “Boom.”

Oscar sighed. “I should’ve said that.”

“You were just guessing.” She shrugged.

The social media manager clapped. “Well! Looks like… Lando wins!"

Amelia stood. “Great. I’m going back to run a qualifying simulation now.”

She left frame without saying goodbye.

Oscar and Lando both laughed as the camera faded to the McLaren logo.

—

The McLaren garage buzzed with the low hum of machinery and murmured radio checks. Engineers moved with purpose, but Amelia sat on the edge of Oscar’s workstation, unusually still, arms folded tightly across her chest.

Oscar was halfway into his race suit, glancing at her between sips from his bottle.

“You’re staring at me,” he said, trying to make it light.

“I’m thinking,” she replied flatly.

He waited. She didn’t elaborate.

A beat passed.

Then, in that clipped, low tone of hers, “Track’s colder than ideal. Grip will suck the first stint. You’ll want to push, but don’t chase the feeling if it’s not there. Let it come to you.”

He nodded, tightening his gloves. “Copy.”

“Stay out of traffic, especially Sector 2. If someone impedes you, don’t get emotional about it. Just report and reset.”

Oscar studied her. “You okay?”

“I’m briefing you.”

“…Right.”

She unfolded her arms slowly, like the motion took effort. Her jaw was tense. The usual snap in her delivery was duller, like she was wading through fog and didn’t want to show it.

“You don’t need to prove anything to anyone today,” she said finally, without meeting his eyes. “Not to me. Not to the paddock. Just get the data. Clean session. That’s the win.”

Oscar hesitated. “You sure you’re alright?”

She finally looked at him. Her expression didn’t shift, but there was something behind her eyes—tired, maybe. Not physically. He couldn’t tell.

“Focus on your job, Oscar.”

A long pause.

“Alright,” he said softly. “Let’s do it, then.”

He turned to leave for the car, but her hand briefly touched his forearm.

It was the first time she’d done that all season.

“You’ve got this,” she said.

And then she was gone; disappearing behind a headset and a screen, shutting the world out with precision.

Oscar didn’t say anything.

But when he climbed into the car and pulled his belts tight, his shoulders were a little squarer. His breathing calmer.

—

The TV feed cut to chaos. Red flag. Marshals sprinted onto the track. Carlos’s Ferrari was being craned away. Oscar hadn’t even managed to leave the garage yet.

Amelia stood at the pit wall, arms crossed, headset still on. She hadn’t blinked in fifteen seconds.

Her dad appeared behind her, phone in hand, expression a blend of irritation and corporate damage control.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Drain cover came loose,” she said flatly. “Sainz drove over it at 320. Floor’s completely destroyed.”

Zak frowned. “Seriously?”

“Yes. The cover wasn’t welded properly. Obvious risk. They didn’t check.”

He looked at the monitor. “Are we running Oscar?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She turned her head slowly toward him. “Because there’s a hole in the track.”

Zak didn’t respond.

She continued. “Sending a car out now is negligent. I already told Race Control we won’t participate until they give a structural inspection report. I won’t risk Oscar’s chassis because someone forgot a torque wrench.”

Zak sighed. “Okay.”

Behind them, mechanics hovered awkwardly, unsure whether to continue prep or stand down. Amelia tapped her headset.

“FP1 is over,” she said, voice clipped. “Go back to base. Check Lando’s floor and cooling ducts for debris. Full diagnostic.”

Oscar walked up, half-suited, helmet under his arm. “What’s going on?”

She looked at him. “You’re not going out. Drain cover came off. Session’s red-flagged.”

“That’s it?”

“It could’ve killed someone,” she said. “So yes. That’s it.”

He blinked. “Right.”

She turned to walk back toward her workstation.

Zak called after her. “Don’t be angry!”

She stopped. Looked over her shoulder. “I’m not. Anger won’t fix the track.” Then, after a beat, she said, “But I think someone should be fired.”

And she walked off to find her husband.

—

The lights along the Strip hadn’t dimmed, but everything else had gone strangely quiet.

It was well past midnight. The garage, usually crackling with anticipation before a session, felt more like a waiting room. Too many people moving too carefully, voices lowered like something had been interrupted. Amelia stood at the pit wall, headset already pinching slightly against her temple, her fingers motionless over the trackpad. Waiting.

She hadn’t said much in the last hour. Not out of some dramatic mood, she just didn’t feel like filling the air with worthless commentary.

When the green light finally blinked on at the end of the pit lane, there wasn’t relief. Just exasperation.

She keyed her mic, steady. “Box out. Let’s see how everything feels.”

Oscar responded immediately. “Copy.”

The car pulled away, the hum of the engine disappearing into the neon distance. She stared after it a beat too long.

They hadn’t run in FP1. None of the planned setup work mattered anymore, this was just about salvaging time, collecting data.

But now, every drain cover was now a threat. Just another thing to add to her list of concerns.

Amelia’s eyes flicked to the screen, watching Oscar’s telemetry as if she could will the suspension to stay intact through every straight.

Two chairs down, her dad made some offhand joke about this being “the most expensive late-night go-kart session ever,” and she smiled with half her face, but didn’t turn.

The data streamed in. Amelia’s brain parsed it automatically, throttle traces, brake pressures, steering angles, but the usual focus wasn’t clicking the same way tonight. She pressed the mic button. “Feeling okay with the grip?” She asked.

“Better than expected,” Oscar replied. “Still a bit green, but manageable.”

“Copy that. Let’s try Mode 7 next lap.”

A beat passed.

“You alright?”

She blinked. The question had come in over a private channel. Just him. “Yeah,” she said. “Just having to watch everything twice. Sorry if I sound a bit distracted.”

She didn’t add that the neon lights were starting to feel like they were flickering behind her eyes, or that the pressure in her chest hadn’t really gone away since the FP1 red flag. Or that the silence before the sessions had settled into her bones in a way that didn’t feel temporary.

But none of that mattered. Not tonight. He had 90 minutes, and they had to make every single one of them count.

She shuffled on her hair, opened the sector comparison window, and let out a quiet breath. “Let’s go hunting, ducky.”

—

Amelia sat on the edge of a low bench, her headset off, fingers tapping absently on the worn fabric of her skirt. Oscar slid next to her, helmet still under one arm, face flushed from the heat of the track.

“You did well out there,” she told him.

Oscar smiled, the kind that barely touched his eyes. “You sure? It felt like I was half driving with one eye on every drain cover.”

She let out a soft, humourless chuckle. “Yeah, well, that’s what we get for racing on a casino parking lot.”

He glanced at her, watching for the flicker of something beneath her calm. “You okay?”

Her eyes caught his. “I’m fine. Just... processing. You know how it is.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. If you need to step back or—”

“No.” She shook her head, almost imperceptibly. “No. I’m fine.”

Oscar leaned back, exhaling through his nose. “Roll on tomorrow, eh?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Tomorrow.”

—

Oscar and Lando stood by the side of the track, away from the chatter and TV cameras, sharing a rare moment of quiet.

“She’s different,” Oscar said, voice low, like sharing a secret. “Not in a bad way. Just... more quiet, more serious. Even when she talks, it’s like she’s somewhere else.”

Lando nodded, eyes scanning the pit lane as if he could spot the cause in the distance. “Yeah. Noticed. You think she’s pushing herself too hard?”

Oscar shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll keep an eye on her. Don’t want to be that guy who notices too late.”

“Good call,” Lando said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll try to get it out of her tonight, but I appreciate it.”

Oscar smiled, half relieved. “Anytime, mate.”

—

The lobby’s glare hit Amelia like a punch, each flicker of neon and burst of laughter hammering against the fragile calm she’d been clinging to all weekend. Every unfamiliar voice seemed to multiply, overlapping into a chaotic storm behind her eyes. Her skin prickled, nerves sparking in every inch of her body. She tried to focus on the steady rhythm of her own breath, but it felt shallow, too fast.

The weekend had been a relentless tide of changes — the new track layout, unexpected strategies, the flood of questions from media she barely had energy to endure. Everyone expected her to be sharp, ready, unflappable. But inside, her mind was scrambling to process it all, the sensory overload making everything worse.

She could feel the walls closing in, the pressure building behind her ribcage, tightening like a vice.

Just breathe. But the breath didn’t come easy. Her hands clenched at her sides, fingers trembling.

She tried to steady herself, a practiced smile pressed onto her face for the reception staff, for Lando, for Oscar. But it was too much. Too loud. Too unpredictable.

The floodgate broke.

Her vision blurred, chest tightening until it felt like the air itself was betraying her. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want anyone to see this unraveling — but she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Lando’s voice cut through the haze — soft, patient, familiar.

“Hey, baby. Let’s go over here.”

His touch was a lifeline, grounding her in the chaos. She stumbled toward him, every shaky breath breaking as the raw exhaustion spilled out.

She wanted to explain, to scream ‘this isn’t weakness!’ but the words caught in her throat.

Lando didn’t say a thing. He just reached out, firm and steady, pressing his hand gently but insistently into the small of her back. A solid, grounding pressure that said, I’m here. I’ve got you.

She leaned into it, breath ragged, heart racing, muscles trembling. His warmth was steady beneath her — an anchor.

Her hands found his arms, clinging like an octopus, desperate for the hold that would stop the spinning. She didn’t have the words to ask for help, but the silent understanding in his touch was enough.

Without a word, Lando lifted her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all, cradling her close against his chest.

The noise of the lobby faded into background white noise as he carried her through it, the solid rhythm of his steps matching the slow crawl of her ragged breathing.

They moved past the glare of the lights, past the curious eyes, straight back to the safety of their room — where she could finally just be.

—

The shower ran hot, steam swirling thick and heavy in the small bathroom. Amelia sat on the cold tile floor, knees drawn up, fingers tightening around her stim toy, the familiar texture a welcome relief. The water hammered down, relentless and fierce and perfect.

Behind the fogged glass, Lando crouched, silent and steady. His presence wasn’t words or pressure, just steady warmth, a solid anchor in the swirling storm she couldn’t always control. His hand rested lightly on the tub’s edge, close enough that if she reached out, she’d find him there.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. His calm, wordless support let her unravel at her own pace, gave her permission to sink low and find the fragments of herself again. The tight coil inside loosened, breath slowing, muscles softening.

When she finally reached out, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and exhaled a slow, quiet breath.

—

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Amelia lay on her side, knees tucked in, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it might swallow her whole. The bed creaked softly as Lando shifted beside her.

After a long pause, his hand found hers in the dark. “You doing alright, baby?” He asked, voice low but steady.

She hesitated before answering. “No. Not really. Today was... too much. Like everything was spinning, but I was stuck in place.”

Lando squeezed her fingers gently, patient. “You’ve been on edge since we landed.”

A small nod, tight with tension. “Since the plane, yeah. I felt sick the entire flight. And then here—everything just kept coming at me. Noise, people, changes. I thought I could handle it, but it kept building.”

He kept his hand in hers, steady and warm. “Nobody had enjoyed the weekend so far, baby. I promise you, you’re not alone there.”

Amelia finally turned her head to look at him, eyes searching. “I don’t want to sound weak. Or like I’m complaining.”

Lando shook his head, a soft smile breaking through. “You’re the last person that anyone would think was weak.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little, a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding escaping in a quiet sigh. “I’ve just felt physically sick with nerves since we left England. It’s like the whole weekend’s hanging over me, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Hey,” he said gently, fingers fluttering over her cheek and eyelids, “We’ll get through it together. We handle tomorrow, then we handle race day, and then we get to go home.”

She gave a small, wry smile. “I might lose it completely if it wasn’t for you.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t let that happen, would I?”

They stayed like that for a while, fingers entwined, silence wrapping around them like a shield.

“I hate feeling like I’m not in control.”

“I know, baby. And I’m sorry I can’t take that feeling away.”

She blinked back the hint of tears, voice softer now. “Thanks for being here.”

He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “Always.”

—

The morning light spilled gently through the curtains, softening the edges of the hotel room. Amelia was curled up in bed, the duvet pulled just below her chin. Lando balanced a tray with two plates of eggs, toast, and steaming coffee, trying not to spill as he settled it on the bedside table.

Oscar sat on the edge of the bed, knees tucked under him, already half-entwined in the quiet comfort of the morning. This wasn’t their first breakfast like this; the three of them, an unspoken little routine born out of long weekends and unpredictable schedules.

Lando grinned as he handed Amelia her coffee. “Here you go. Not too sweet, I promise.”

She gave a small, tired smile, reaching out to take it. “Better than last time.”

Oscar, perched close by, reached for a piece of toast and grinned back at her. “Glad I don’t like coffee. I’m just here for the food.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow, sipping. “You remind me of a stray cat sometimes.”

Oscar laughed, warm and easy. “I weirdly don’t mind that comparison.”

Lando shot Amelia a fond look across the bed.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Oscar asked, munching thoughtfully.

Lando shrugged, “Take it slow. FP3 later and then Quali, obviously, but nothing crazy this morning.”

Amelia leaned back into the pillows, her voice quiet but steady. “I might go and buy some Epsom salts. Write some strategy notes in the bath.”

Oscar nodded, eyes kind. “Sounds relaxing”

She glanced at Lando, who gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Hope so,” she said simply.

Oscar reached out and ruffled Lando’s hair. “Christ, mate. You could do with a haircut.”

Lando scoffed, showing him away. “Fuck off. Says you, mister swoop.”

Amelia pursed her lips and hid her smile behind her mug.

—

The gift shop was a small, cluttered oasis of weirdness and nostalgia tucked inside the hotel lobby. Amelia was scanning the shelves with practiced efficiency, eyes locked on the little jars of bath salts.

Lando and Oscar were already browsing the second aisle.

Lando held up a neon cowboy hat. “Mate, how can you say no to this?”

Oscar was inspecting a glittery, oversized keychain shaped like a slot machine. “It’s got lights and sounds. Look.” He pressed a button and the keychain erupted with flashing colours and a cacophony of jingles. “Jackpot! I’m rich.”

Amelia sighed, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Guys, don’t start. I just want some bath stuff.”

Oscar grinned, undeterred. “But we’re just doing cultural research.”

Lando plopped the cowboy hat on his head sideways and attempted a drawl. “Y’all ready for the rodeo?”

Amelia gave him a flat look. “Great look, husband.”

Oscar laughed and reached for a novelty plastic cactus, pretending it was a microphone. “Welcome to the Las Vegas Gift Show! I’m your host, Cactus Carl.”

Lando, clearly in his element, grabbed a toy rattlesnake and slithered it along the floor toward Amelia’s feet. “Don’t step on the snake! It’s venomous.”

Amelia stepped back, raising an eyebrow, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Right. Venomous and ridiculous.”

Finally, she found what she was looking for; a small, unassuming jar of lavender bath salts with a label promising relaxation. She grabbed it, turning to the boys.

“Alright, I’m done.”

Lando tilted his hat back and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Mission accomplished.”

Oscar picked up another keychain. “Hey, look at this one! It’s a limited edition.”

Amelia sighed tiredly.

—

Less than an hour later, the hotel bathroom was filled with the soft scent of lavender from the bath salts Amelia had chosen. The water was just the right temperature, warm enough to ease the tension knotted deep in her shoulders but not scalding. She sank down slowly, letting the heat seep in, her fingers tracing the ripples on the surface.

Outside the bathroom door, Lando and Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the wall with laptops balanced on their knees. Their voices were low, careful not to break the fragile calm Amelia was clinging to.

“So, the long straight,” Oscar said quietly. “Telemetry showed some unusual brake pressure spikes on your last run.” He said to Lando.

Lando nodded, flicking through the data. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Maybe the surface temperature was throwing off the balance?”

Amelia sighed, eyes closed. “Probably. Felt off the whole session.” She added, only having to speak a little louder than usual to be heard through the ajar door.

Oscar glanced toward the door. “You want us to try something different for FP3?”

She let her fingers trail in the water, thoughtful. “Maybe adjust front brake bias… just a bit.”

Lando nodded. “I’ll write it down.”

There was a pause, the only sound the gentle dripping from the faucet. Amelia opened her eyes a crack. “Thanks for this.”

Oscar grinned. “You asked for company and telemetry. We deliver.”

Lando chuckled. “Yeah, we’ve got nowhere better to be, baby.”

She let herself smile, a quiet warmth spreading beyond the bathwater. In this little bubble of steam and soft voices, the chaos felt a little less relentless.

—

FP3 was more than just practice—it was a chance to claw back control after yesterday’s chaos, and Amelia was feeling the weight of it.

Oscar was in the car, revving the engine, while her headset buzzed with team chatter. The track was unforgiving today, hotter, more demanding, but Amelia’s eyes stayed locked on the timing screen. She flicked through sector times, braking points, tire temps—all the little details she’d been obsessing over for days.

Her gut still fluttered, nerves stubborn beneath the surface, but she pushed it aside. This wasn’t the place for doubts. She spoke into the comms, “brake bias -0.3 for the next run. Watch rear temps.”

Her radio crackled, Oscar’s voice clipped but focused. “Got it. Feels different already.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Keep the feedback coming.”

A few laps later, she caught a subtle improvement in the data—sector two times shaving off milliseconds. Not perfect, but progress. The day wasn’t going to beat her.

By the end of FP3, the sun was blazing, sweat damp on her brow. Amelia’s mind was a swirl of analysis, but beneath it all was something steadier—quiet confidence, the kind that comes after pushing through the noise.

When Oscar pulled into the pits, she let herself exhale. One step closer.

—

Qualifying came in the blink of an eye and Amelia’s eyes were glued to the screen, every pixel of telemetry, every split second on the sector times drilled into her mind.

Oscar’s car cut through the track, precise and aggressive, pushing the limits. Amelia’s fingers tapped lightly on the desk—not from nerves, but calculation, running through every variable in her head. She caught the slight twitch in the rear suspension, the tiny loss of rear grip in sector two. Adjustments would be needed. Not a disaster, but enough to make a difference.

Will was nearby, watching too, but Amelia barely noticed him.

Oscar crossed the line, a clean lap, but not quite the best. Amelia’s brow furrowed. “Sector three’s where he’s losing time. Let’s tweak the brake bias for the final run.”

Will leaned over, quiet but warm. “You think he’s got it?”

She didn’t look away from the screen. “I don't know. He needs the car to behave like it’s supposed to.”

The final moments stretched taut, then Oscar’s second run flashed up. Faster, cleaner. Still not enough to get out of Q1. Her jaw clenched. 

Fuck. 

—

[Twitter Feed – #protectamelia]

@/f1fanatic123:

just saw that vid of amelia having a full autistic meltdown in the hotel lobby in vegas last night… why don’t you weirdos shut the hell up and disappear into a hole and leave the fucking girl alone omfg

@/raceengineerlvr:

people spreading that clip with zero context? big yikes. amelia is freaking brilliant and deserves respect. stop the ableism.

@/landosupportr:

if anyone can handle this insane pressure it’s amelia. lando’s lucky af to have her, and honestly? so are we. back off.

@/keepitrealf1: autistic, blunt, iconic. amelia’s meltdown is just her being human—get over your toxic asses.

@/f1momlife: as a parent to a neurodivergent kiddo, this blatant ableism online is disgusting. show some empathy. #protectamelia

@/oscarp443:

oscar’s team isn’t complete without amelia. her meltdown shows how much she cares. toxic ‘fans’ need to check themselves

@/nocapf1:

y’all acting like sharing a meltdown is funny or weak. nahhhhhhhh, that’s ableism 101. have some respect or just stay offline ????

@/disabledandproud:

this is EXACTLY why autistic ppl get unfair hate. stop weaponising someone’s mental health moments for clicks. grow up.

@/f1_truthteller:

seeing the clips blow up and ppl twisting it into jokes? pure ableist nonsense. end of.

—

[Instagram – McLaren Official Story]

Video clip of Amelia working intently in the garage, captioned:

"Focused, fierce, and the backbone of the papaya team."

—

[Reddit – r/formula1]

Post Title:

“Can we talk about the video of Amelia Norris? The backlash is unreal and uncalled for.”

Top comment:

“It’s easy to forget these people are human. Amelia’s dedication is clear, and the meltdown just shows how much she gives. This fandom can be toxic. Let’s be better.”

—

Amelia sat rigid, fingers barely twitching on the edge of the conference table. The room felt too bright, too loud—like a spotlight had been slammed onto her without warning. She watched her dad pace. His voice was steady but tight, every word laced with frustration.

“How did we let this happen? The video should’ve been reported immediately.”

She caught Lando’s fists clenching behind her, his jaw set hard. He wasn’t shouting—he didn’t need to. The anger radiated off him like heat, a shield she wanted to lean into.

Oscar was quieter than usual, but his eyes, sharp and steady, burned with the same quiet fury.

They all thought they were defending her.

But inside Amelia, it felt like a thousand static whispers; people’s opinions buzzing at the edge of her brain, overwhelming and unrelenting. She wasn’t weak. She was tired. The energy it took to smile, to explain, to pretend like none of this was a breach of her life felt like a lead weight pressing down on her chest.

The PR team rambled about damage control and messaging, but Amelia barely heard them. Her thoughts slipped away from the room, spinning cold and sharp.

She looked up, met her dads expectant gaze.

Her voice was flat, stripped of any theatrics. “Yeah, it sucked having it put out there. But I’m not going to make a scene about it. I can handle it.”

They waited, as if that was supposed to be reassuring. She knew what they wanted: a show of vulnerability, maybe some anger.

Instead, she smiled inwardly.

She pulled her phone out, thumb hovering. Then, with a quiet kind of defiance, she pulled up a new tweet.

Autism affects 1 in 36 people. Awareness beats stigma.

Also, I married Lando Norris and you didn’t. Suck it.

[Link to autism awareness resource]

She hit send.

Lando’s laugh was the first sound to break the tension. Her dad let out a short, grudging chuckle. Oscar’s eyes flickered with something like pride.

—

[DTS Outtake Clip]

Will Buxton

“Yeah, so… that clip of Amelia, it really went viral, didn’t it? I’m sure she must have thought her weekend couldn’t get any tougher after that moment. But then Sunday came…”

—

Amelia caught Lando just before he stepped into the car. The hum of the track buzzed behind them, but for a beat, it was just them.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Good luck. Be safe. Drive fast.”

He smiled, eyes bright with that fierce fire she loved. “Always, baby.”

She turned and headed to the pit wall, heart steady but fierce — ready.

—

The roar of the crowd swallowed the pre-race tension whole as the lights blinked out, one by one. Oscar launched perfectly—an instinct honed from endless hours tracking telemetry and analysing every millisecond. He surged forward, slicing through the tight corners of the Las Vegas street circuit with brutal precision.

Amelia’s eyes locked on the screens, her fingers dancing over the buttons and dials at the pit wall. Every lap was a heartbeat, every split time a breath held. She was the calm centre for Oscar’s storm.

“Sector one clean, good pace,” she told him over the radio, voice even but focused.

“Copy. Tires feeling good,” came Oscar’s crisp reply.

She allowed herself a brief, tiny exhale. This was what she lived for, the rhythm of the race, the flow of strategy, the challenge.

But then, amid the relentless thrum of engines and tires gripping asphalt, the radio sparked. A sudden crackle, then Lando’s voice—strained, quick.

“Car’s sliding—shit—oh fucking—”

The pit wall fell silent except for the crackling radio. Amelia’s chest tightened. The word ‘crash’ hovered unspoken but undeniable in the space between sounds.

Her fingers froze. Her eyes darted to the live feed on the screen; Lando’s McLaren spinning wildly, slamming into the barriers.

Time fractured.

The noise dimmed, the crowd’s roar now a distant wave crashing against the edges of her mind.

“Lando’s out,” the comms guy said quietly beside her. “Full safety car. Medical car dispatched.”

She blinked rapidly, trying to swallow the sudden lump forming in her throat. Breathe. Focus.

She had to focus.

Oscar was still out there, still racing.

She shook her head slightly as if clearing fog. “Oscar, you’re clear. Keep the pace, watch brake temps—”

“I’m ok.” Lando reported, but his voice was tight — like he’d been winded.

Amelia’s voice cracked, and she hated herself for it. Hated how much it betrayed her insides.

Oscar’s voice came steady, but she could hear the surprise, the tension. “Shit. That was Lando?”

“Yeah,” she said before she could stop herself. “He’s… he’s climbing out of the car. He’s okay.”

She stole a glance at the live feed showing Lando being helped out, walking with a medic, shaking his head like he was fine. But she knew—knew the physical toll, the adrenaline masking the pain, the shock that would hit later.

She frantically grabbed for her golf ball — she always kept it beneath the monitors, and squeezed it. Grounding herself.

“Focus on the race, ducky. I’m here. We’ve got this.”

Oscar’s voice softened, “You sure?”

She swallowed hard again. “I’m sure.”

Every lap was a razor’s edge now. Amelia ran through data, strategic calls, tire management; but her mind kept drifting back to that crash, to Lando’s face on the screen, the unspoken “what if.”

The pit lane buzzed, the crew working, the team breathing with her through Oscar’s race, but she was somewhere else too.

She bit back a dry sob and pressed on. “Sector two clean. Let’s push on the next lap. You can get Sainz.”

Oscar’s voice returned with renewed fire. “Copy. Let’s make it count.”

She nodded, though no one could see.

And yet.

There was the ache.

The race carried on, unforgiving.

—

The monitor in front of her flickered with telemetry, lap times, sector splits—Oscar’s heartbeat in digital form. She had to be here. Had to be present.

Her fingers danced a quiet rhythm on the edge of the pit-wall console—a practiced stim to keep the rising panic locked behind a steel door in her mind. The world had already cracked around her today.

“Sector three’s slower by two tenths, watch the tyre temps,” she said, voice clipped, tight. Her gaze never left the screen, even as the chaos inside her threatened to seep out. The noise outside, the shouted team radio chatter, the flashing pit boards, it all blurred into one sharp focus: Oscar.

The world had been unpredictable all weekend. The unexpected video circulating. The judgment from people who didn’t know. Lando spinning out and hitting the wall. But here, in this moment, Amelia was the engineer, the strategist. The calm in the storm.

She clenched the golf ball in her palm, fingers twisting the soft silicone shapes until the ridges bit into her skin just enough to bring her back. The tears she hadn’t let herself shed yet pooled behind her eyes, but she swallowed them down. Not now. Not now.

Her radio crackled to life, “Oscar, focus on exit at turn seven, keep it smooth; tyres need managing.”

And then, after what felt like a lifetime of silence, she sensed him before she saw him. A warmth settling over her. Lando, standing just behind her, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. No words.

His arms wound around her waist and he squeezed. Tight and warm and perfect.

The sharp edge of panic softened in that quiet pressure. It was like a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding for hours finally escaped. The knot in her chest loosened.

She kept her eyes on the screen, voice steady but softer now, “Push on the next lap, Oscar. You’ve got this.”

The relief didn’t break her focus. Instead, it sharpened it, gave her the strength to keep Oscar moving forward through the pack.

But just for one brief moment, the whole world faded away, leaving just the hum of the race, the steady pulse of the monitor, and the quiet heartbeat pressing against her back.

—

Amelia sat at the small kitchen table, absently stirring her coffee, her mind half on the morning briefing notes she’d reviewed earlier.

She wasn’t in the mood to think much, really. Too many things buzzing in her head—the weekend, the viral video fallout, the constant undercurrent of stress that never quite left her.

Then, for no particular reason, her hand drifted to her phone, and she opened the calendar app. That’s when it hit her. 

The date she’d been quietly expecting had come and gone.

No sign.

A slow, quiet realisation settled in her gut. She hadn’t missed a period in years. 

She blinked, staring at the screen. No big dramatic wave of panic. No sudden flood of excitement either. Just… a plain, blunt acknowledgment.

Oh.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself quietly, voice flat but certain. “Should probably tell Lando.”

She stood and walked to the living room, pulling out her phone again.

iMessage — 13:03pm

Amelia (Wifey 4 lifey)

My period is 3 weeks late.

--

She slid the phone onto the table, fingers lingering on the edge for a moment. Missing a period wasn’t a crisis, just a mildly inconvenient fact.

She glanced out the window at the bustling street below. Monaco was doing its usual thing, people rushing, cars honking, life barreling forward.

Amelia took another sip of coffee and muttered under her breath, “Well, that’s new.”

Then, with all the casual decisiveness of someone deciding what to have for lunch, she shoved the thought aside and got back to work.

NEXT CHAPTER

[kaetastic]

PLAY ALONG

pairing: Sodo Ghoul x Ghoulette!F!Reader

summary: After debutting not so long ago, the fans seem to adore the new addition to their beloved band. However, after noticing how their fans react to their interactions- Sodo and Y/N test the waters to make their fans go feral.

word count: 1.2k+

warning: tension TENSION SEXUAL TENSION!!!

note: i've noticed the lack of reader being a part of the band so you know what TAKE THIS! also i love you phantom but this position is MINE!! (for this story lol) p.s i took 2 hours to write this because i was so excited and was on a GRINDD

"Dust." Papa's deep voice shook the venue, the vibrations flowing like waves from the source of the sounds into the thrilled crowd. With a microphone in his hand, the man who had the blinding sequined blue jacket pranced across the stage. The spotlight followed every movement he made, shining upon him as if he were a revealed prophecy.

Screams erupted from the crowd as they held their phones high up from the crowd- ready to capture moments from their favourite ghouls and ghoulettes. However, this night had been different since the few previous shows had sparked a new trend. Pupils and phone lenses were glued onto the lead guitarist who had been ripping his infamous white guitar while others stayed on the ghoulette who strung her black one.

There was excitement in the air that was missing from the tours before. It wasn't grand but it definitely felt significant. And oh, was that excitement going to explode. Bodies were jumping as Papa thrust his hips, his voice growling out, "In God you trust."

Swiss moved further into the stage and those closest to him let out high-pitched yells. Even though both parties knew there was no point in trying to make contact due to the large gap between them, there was always an attempt because the veins on the man's arm were irresistible.

"Your cavalier of crapulence, to this feast of rapacity."

If it wasn't loud before, now it was boisterous. Sodo's fingers were moving on their own- a result of countless practices, while his body shuffled over to the ghoulette.

Y/N or Raven (as she was known) had her lips pressed together as her mind was solely focused on giving a satisfying performance. Papa's voice bounced through her earpiece and her body obeyed the music and played the right chords. Despite the sudden incline of screams, she kept her gaze on the crowd with a smile. Playing an instrument was one thing, but serving a good performance for the crowd was another. Knowing that fact, she shouldn't have been surprised when she felt another body pressing her back.

Her mind needed a second to process who it was but her body was on its own journey. Not even a stagger in her performance. Throwing her head over her shoulders, she was met by the same mask encapsulating her head. The fans noticed how close their bodies were and more screams erupted from the front to the back of the venue.

"In God you trust."

With his other arm free, he placed his hand on her waist. It descended, following the curve of her body before he yanked her back to close the gap between them. Masterminds- that's what they were because everyone had been enamoured by the two. Phones from all the way back were faced in their directions, possibly recording the hundredth clip of that night.

After the recent shows, Y/N and Sodo had picked up how the crowd had loved when they were close to one another. So in a genius fashion, they both decided to interact more on stage.

Even though the light fell onto the back of their heads, shadowing the front of their masks, few realized the way Y/N had opened her mouth in shock at Sodo's action. They scrambled to open whatever social media they favoured, not bothered by the fact that their phone was holding onto the last bits of battery. Later on, the duo would find the clip to pull in more interested fans with their electrifying chemistry.

Leaning her head back to rest on his shoulder, Y/N realized something. Noises came from every angle. The sounds that were trapped by the large room bounced off the walls, wrapping around the people under its roof. Despite all this, she could clearly hear his heavy breathing. The man wasn't running around the stage, so why was he?

Then a smirk played on her lips. When they discussed their little plan, Y/N knew there would be rumours about the two but in any good marketing, denying those rumours would not be beneficial at all. She also knew that there would be other... feelings involved. Feelings that would be more apparent on him than on her.

Angling her lips towards his, she leaned in but not exactly closing in. Screeches blew up and a smirk played on her lips at her success. She breathed out onto his lips, "You hard?" Oh, the things she would do just to see his eyes beneath those opaque goggles. Sodo felt his body still behind hers. He was incredibly thankful that most of his face had been covered apart from his lips because his face gave away everything. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips at her question. So many things to be thankful for tonight. Especially to the guitar that covered the most telling parts.

Cirrus' part was up and Y/N pressed a hand on Sodo's chest to push him away. Making her way to the other side of the stage, she stood close to the edge, her feet perched on the blasting speakers. Unbeknownst to her, the same figure that was behind her had been trailing after her like a lost yet love-sickened puppy seeking attention. She should have known when phones were angled behind her.

With his hand free again, Sodo pushed his guitar to rest beside him, his front now free from the protection of the instrument. A small gulp swam down her throat once she felt something prodding her back. Lord. Placing his hand on the bottom of her neck, he ground his teeth as he brought it up to fully grasp it.

Another thing to be thankful for- no one had heard the silent moan that left her lips. Just for him.

"Very." Sodo gave a late reply.

"And divine you feel my thrust."

The ghoulette smirked at the coincidence of the lyrics for that moment.

"In God you trust."

Papa's thrusting towards the crowd caused strings of screams, and bubbles of excitement were waiting to burst out. The crowd was ready for the confetti. On the other hand, Sodo fans had their phones angled to capture his routine for Mummy Dust. This time... everyone knew that something would be different.

As the drumming got louder, Sodo ran his left down from Y/N's mouth to her neck- stopping above the curves of her chest. Just for a moment, a small part of her cursed him out for not going further down. Wrapping his fingers as if he was jacking off the air, Sodo had his head thrown back. He wished he was doing the exact same thing to himself right now.

The ghoulette turned her body to face him. His eyes changed course to watch as her hands slowly trailed down his chest. The fans were exhilarated at the sight, screaming at the sight of the pair they liked so much. Sodo felt his heart beat at its own hastened pace while the rest of his body was vibrated by the stage. His heart skipped one single beat. Y/N got on her knees with her eyes on his black lenses. She swore he had gulped when confetti was shot out onto the crowd.

This was definitely going to be awkward to talk about later.

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - June 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Rare foal born on estate for first time in 100 years

“The Food Museum at Abbot's Hall in Stowmarket, Suffolk, is home to a small number of Suffolk Punch horses - a breed considered critically endangered by the Rare Breeds Survival Trust. A female foal was born on Saturday and has been named Abbots Juno to honour the last horse born at the museum in 1924. [...] Juno is just one of 12 fillies born so far this year in the country and she could potentially help produce more of the breed in the future.”

2. The cement that could turn your house into a giant battery

“[Scientists] at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) have found a way of creating an energy storage device known as a supercapacitor from three basic, cheap materials – water, cement and a soot-like substance called carbon black. [... Supercapacitators] can charge much more quickly than a lithium ion battery and don't suffer from the same levels of degradation in performance. [... Future applications of this concrete might include] roads that store solar energy and then release it to recharge electric cars wirelessly as they drive along a road [... and] energy-storing foundations of houses.”

3. New road lights, fewer dead insects—insect-friendly lighting successfully tested

“Tailored and shielded road lights make the light source almost invisible outside the illuminated area and significantly reduces the lethal attraction for flying insects in different environments. [...] The new LED luminaires deliver more focused light, reduce spill light, and are shielded above and to the side to minimize light pollution. [... In contrast,] dimming the conventional lights by a factor of 5 had no significant effect on insect attraction.”

4. When LGBTQ health is at stake, patient navigators are ready to help

“[S]ome health care systems have begun to offer guides, or navigators, to get people the help they need. [... W]hether they're just looking for a new doctor or taking the first step toward getting gender-affirming care, "a lot of our patients really benefit from having someone like me who is there to make sure that they are getting connected with a person who is immediately going to provide a safe environment for them." [... A navigator] also connects people with LGBTQ community organizations, social groups and peer support groups.”

5. Tech company to help tackle invasive plant species

“Himalayan balsam has very sugary nectar which tempts bees and other pollinators away from native plants, thereby preventing them from producing seed. It outcompetes native plant species for resources such as sunlight, space and nutrients. [...] The volunteer scheme is open to all GWT WilderGlos users who have a smartphone and can download the Crowdorsa app, where they can then earn up to 25p per square meter of Balsam removed.”

6. [Fish & Wildlife] Service Provides Over $14 Million to Benefit Local Communities, Clean Waterways and Recreational Boaters

“The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is distributing more than $14 million in Clean Vessel Act grants to improve water quality and increase opportunities for fishing, shellfish harvests and safe swimming in the nation’s waterways. By helping recreational boaters properly dispose of sewage, this year’s grants will improve conditions for local communities, wildlife and recreational boaters in 18 states and Guam.”

7. Bornean clouded leopard family filmed in wild for first time ever

“Camera traps in Tanjung Puting National Park in Indonesian Borneo have captured a Bornean clouded leopard mother and her two cubs wandering through a forest. It's the first time a family of these endangered leopards has been caught on camera in the wild, according [to] staff from the Orangutan Foundation who placed camera traps throughout the forest to learn more about the elusive species.”

8. Toy library helps parents save money 'and the planet'

“Started in 2015 by Annie Berry, South Bristol's toy library aims to reduce waste and allow more children access to more - and sometimes expensive - toys. [...] Ms Berry partnered with the St Philips recycling centre on a pilot project to rescue items back from landfill, bringing more toys into the library. [...] [P]eople use it to support the environment, take out toys that they might not have the space for at home or be able to afford, and allow children to pick non-gender specific toys.”

9. Chicago Receives $3M Grant to Inventory Its Trees and Create Plan to Manage City’s Urban Forest

“The Chicago Park District received a $1.48 million grant [“made available through the federal Inflation Reduction Act”] to complete a 100% inventory of its estimated 250,000 trees, develop an urban forestry management plan and plant 200 trees in disadvantaged areas with the highest need. As with the city, development of the management plan is expected to involve significant community input.”

10. Strong Public Support for Indigenous Co-Stewardship Plan for Bears Ears National Monument

“[The NFW has a] plan to collaboratively steward Bears Ears National Monument to safeguard wildlife, protect cultural resources, and better manage outdoor recreation. The plan was the result of a two-year collaboration among the five Tribes of the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition and upholds Tribal sovereignty, incorporates Traditional Ecological Knowledge, and responsibly manages the monument for hunting, fishing, and other outdoor recreation while ensuring the continued health of the ecosystem.”

June 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[slytherinshua]

YOU, CLOUDS, RAIN

summary. tws coming home after a tiring day. genre. fluff/comfort. headcanons. warnings. just a lot of exhaustion. food mentioned in almost all of them and brief mention of crying in hanjin's. not proofread. pairing. tws x reader. wc. 714. request. requested by @xmhaoluvr!! a/n. these boys literally deserve the world. also this is literally what i need after today (i did nothing but still exhausted) lmfao 😭😭😭

SHIN JUNGHWAN ﾐ 신정환

Junghwan would still be in leader mode after a long day. As soon as he gets home he’s already asking you if you’ve eaten or need anything, and you’d have to tell him to slow down and rest. After waking up at the crack of dawn, performing all day, and having to keep track of all the members, he’s so exhausted. He forgets that home is the place where he can just relax. You’d help him unwind, making sure he takes a nice bath and eats a good dinner before cuddling up in bed. He feels so relieved that he has you to rely on, because for the entire day, everyone else was relying on him. 

KIM DOHOON ﾐ 김도훈

You could tell Dohoon was extremely tired the second he walked through the door. He falls completely on top of you. He doesn’t want to talk about it, all he wants is to fall asleep in your arms. You help him relax and massage his muscles if he’s feeling really sore. Once you make sure that nothing really bad had happened (he just missed you a lot and was super tired during his schedules), you’re happy to call in for the night early. Making sure that all your attention is on Dohoon until he falls asleep, even if you aren’t tired enough to sleep just yet. Him getting rest is what is most important to you.

CHOI YOUNGJAE ﾐ 최영재

Youngjae is usually so calm and gentle, but after a long day testing his patience for hours, he’s already past his limit once he gets home. He knows that if he tries to talk to you, he’d most likely say something he didn’t mean. So instead of letting you help him with food or a bath, he goes to shower by himself, leaving you in the bedroom to wait for him. He takes an extra 20 minutes in the shower just unwinding after the exhausting day. He feels so much better once he’s out of the shower, having cleared his head and worked the knots out of his body. He’ll want to get his fill of kisses before he falls asleep, relaxing further to your comforting scent. 

HAN ZHEN ﾐ 韩振

Hanjin is so relieved to be home after a taxing day, he’d most likely cry as soon as he’s back in your arms :( He definitely needs sleep, but more than that he wants to get as many hugs and kisses as he can. He refuses to sleep until you’ve completed your usual nighttime routine, involving skincare, matching pyjamas, and cuddling while watching a drama episode. He definitely starts dozing halfway through the episode because he’s so tired </3 But you would make sure he’s comfortable wrapped in your arms, not minding that you’d have to rewatch the episode again another day. Him getting rest is what is most important, and it warms your heart that he only wants to do it in your arms. 

HAN JIHOON ﾐ 한지훈

Jihoon crashes like no one else the minute he steps inside. He’s always trying to keep his energy up for everyone else the entire day that once he gets home it’s like his battery fully died. His eyes were already threatening to close as he took off his shoes, and you would have to keep him awake enough to eat and shower before he falls asleep. If he falls asleep on the couch before making it up to bed, good luck dragging him up there because he’s not waking up. You’d have to get him an extra blanket and make sure he’s warm and comfortable so that he doesn’t wake up in pain.

LEE KYUNGMIN ﾐ 이경민

Kyungmin always works so hard during the day that by the end of it, his brain has logged out. I think his tiredness would make him easily distractible, so while he’s eating he would zone out at one spot or forget to blink. You would be asking him questions, like if he wants you to run him a bath or if he needs anything else, but his brain wouldn’t even be able to process it. He’s sheepishly telling you that he’s fine, but you can tell he needs sleep so bad. He feels bad for how disoriented he is, but you assure him that you don’t mind and him getting sleep as soon as possible is most important.

↳ tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @50-husbands,,

@hursheys,, @imyuna-06,, @kristianities,, @stannwjnss,, @nonononranghaee

[semcoinfratechworld]

The Critical Role of Semco's Charge/Discharge Testing in EV Battery Development

The electric vehicle (EV) revolution is accelerating, with advancements in battery technology driving longer ranges and faster charging times. However, the heart of every EV – the battery – must meet stringent performance and safety standards to ensure widespread adoption and consumer confidence. That's where Semco's advanced charge/discharge testing solutions come into play.

Semco has emerged as a leader in battery testing, providing advanced charge/discharge testing solutions that enhance battery efficiency, safety, and durability. This article explores how Semco’s cutting-edge technology plays a crucial role in developing high-performance EV batteries.

Why is Charge/Discharge Testing Crucial for EV Batteries?

EV batteries undergo rigorous testing to simulate real-world usage and identify potential weaknesses. This process is essential for:

Performance Optimization: Determining accurate capacity and energy density. Evaluating charging and discharging rates under various conditions. Analyzing cycle life and degradation over time.

Safety Assurance: Detecting thermal runaway risks and other safety hazards. Verifying battery management system (BMS) functionality. Ensuring compliance with industry safety standards.

Reliability and Durability: Simulating extreme temperature and environmental conditions. Identifying potential defects and manufacturing flaws. Predicting long-term battery lifespan.

Semco's Cutting-Edge Charge/Discharge Testing Solutions:

Semco provides comprehensive charge/discharge testing systems designed to meet the demanding requirements of EV battery manufacturers and research institutions. Our solutions offer:

High Precision and Accuracy: Precise control of current and voltage for accurate battery characterization. Advanced data acquisition and analysis capabilities.

Wide Range of Testing Capabilities: Testing of various battery chemistries and sizes. Simulation of diverse driving profiles and charging scenarios. Temperature chamber integration for environmental testing.

Customizable Solutions: Tailored testing systems to meet specific customer requirements. Scalable solutions for high-volume production testing.

Safety Features: Built in safety systems that monitor voltage, current, and temperature, and provide emergency shut down features.

The Benefits of Partnering with Semco:

Enhanced Battery Performance: Optimize battery design and performance for maximum efficiency.

Reduced Development Time: Accelerate battery development cycles through efficient testing.

Improved Product Safety: Ensure the safety and reliability of EV batteries.

Increased Customer Confidence: Deliver high-quality, dependable EV batteries to the market.

Industry Expertise: Semco has 25+ years of experience in testing equipment and can help to provide guidance for your testing needs.

Ready to ensure the performance and safety of your EV batteries? Contact Semco today to learn more about our charge/discharge testing solutions and how we can help you power the future of electric mobility.

[ranchstoryblog]

Ranch Story's PC Review for Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma

Hello everyone! Welcome to Ranch Story’s review for the Steam release of Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma! Here we will go through the graphical settings, how the game runs on the devices I ran the game on (including the Steam Deck), My personal thoughts about the game, and finally a list of Steam features that are included for this release!

Graphical Settings

The graphical settings to the Steam release of Guardians of Azuma are extremely customizable, and I was very surprised to see the Super Resolution and Frame Generation options. I have not seen those options on previous pc versions of previous Rune Factory or Story of Season games!

 Specifically, the bottom half of the Graphical Settings menu are the settings that are changed depending on what Graphical preset you use.

High Preset

* This was captured with a machine using a NVIDIA GPU. AMD GPU users will have FSR instead of DLSS.

Medium Preset

Low Preset

While playing on the medium preset on the Steam Deck, I noticed some detail pop-in specifically with the LOD of 3D models. When I was testing on other devices, I noticed it was specifically happening with the Medium and Low presets.

I found out that it was the Mesh Quality setting and turning that from medium to high disables the pop-in if that bothers you, but that may cause performance issues depending on your hardware, but for me the performance decline was not too noticeable! I will go into more detail in a later section but this game is very optimized!

Devices

Desktop: CPU: AMD Ryzen 7-Series 3700X

GPU: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 3060

Memory: 16 GB

Operating System: Windows 10 Home

I decided that I wanted to see this game in the best possible way I could. So I used my main machine. I am very glad I did because I was amazed at everything shown! Everything impressed me; from the textures, 3D models, and even how smooth and snappy the animations were. These are amazing features in general, but it even furthered the gaming experience seeing it all come together at max graphics with no visibly noticeable slowdowns! 

Steam Deck:

Model: LED 512 GB

Operating System: SteamOS

I was very happy when I tried out Guardians of Azuma on my Steam Deck. I chose to keep the settings on the default Medium and the game is just as pretty as it was on my desktop. I had no issues with Proton running this game, and there was nothing special I had to do to get the game to run. One thing I did have some issues with was during some demanding cutscenes, the game’s framerate would drop noticeably lower, but it does not happen for all cutscenes, and honestly on a handheld computer I expect these things to happen, other than the demanding cutscenes, the frame rate stays around 50~60 fps.  Personally, I would not notice if I didn't have the fps overlay on while playing! Another thing I would like to say is that the battery while playing lasts 1:30~2:00 hours with the fps uncapped and/or capped at 60 fps, using the in game settings to cap at 30 fps or setting the frame limit to 40 fps using SteamOS’s performance settings. I ended up being very happy with how Steam Deck ran the game on medium plus the convenience of laying down while playing means that for the majority of my playthrough I ended up playing mostly on the Steam Deck.

Laptop:

CPU: AMD Ryzen 7-Series 3750

GPU: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1650

Memory: 8 GB

Operating System: Windows 10

I went back and forth on trying Guardians of Azuma on my laptop, but ended up trying it out for a bit and was pleasantly surprised? The laptop is slightly below the minimum requirements with the “GeForce GTX 1650 SUPER” being the minimum requirement for GPU but it was such a small difference that I might as well try it out! I noticed boot up and post load would get really laggy and models would take a second to pop up, but once things loaded the game was mostly smooth at a 40-50 but sometimes when the character was still and nothing really going on at 60 FPS. The performance was almost the same when unplugged, which I couldn't really say the same for some games previously.

General Thoughts

Alright alright, enough with the technical for now!

I could go on and on about it for quite a bit of time, but there is so much more to the game than how it runs and it deserves to be spoken about too! It’s a spin-off from the mainline Rune Factory titles, and honestly as someone who grew up with only playing Frontier and Tides of Destiny before getting into the numbered titles, it feels faithful to its preceding spin-offs. I am so happy this is the case. Spin-offs are wonderful, and I really love it when they experiment with new concepts and try new things but in such a familiar way. Farming is a bit different and can even be a bit more hands off with the town management sim part of the game, but also its bare mechanics are very familiar where you do not have to learn a whole new system just to make sure your plants grow. Another thing I really love about Guardians of Azuma is the cast of characters.

To put it straight to the point, I love how human they are. (Even the non-humans) They all have things that they love and hate, things that they are scared of, and their own personal things they have to go through. And this all affects how the social interaction choices work too, you have to think “would they actually like this topic” or “is this a place they would enjoy visiting” and each interaction could be positive or negative, depending on the character.

And if I may get a little technical again to tie things off here, I really really love that no matter which device I ran this game off of, it worked. Of course there will be limits and you should probably pay attention to the minimum requirements, but the game itself runs rock solid and the settings allow you to tweak things if you would like things to be more easy to run on your hardware. I feel like it's very important that games are able to run natively on all sorts of hardware old and new, weak or powerful in the current era of very expensive hardware, and I am glad that Marvelous thought about this when developing the game.

Fun Steam Stuff

The Steam release of Rune Factory includes various classic Steam features like 

Cloud Saves

Controller Support

81 Achievements (Holy Moly 👀)

7 Badges

15 Trading Cards

Final Thoughts

Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma has been a very pleasant and fun adventure, and the Steam release has been such a great experience that I can recommend with all my heart. Even with all of the unique features, I feel like with this title Rune Factory is returning to its roots and everything feels like such a nice change of pace but yet so familiar. It was my pleasure to be able to make this review, and I am excited to see what the future holds.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

In patients with long COVID, lower pulmonary gas exchange may be associated with impaired cognitive function, according to a study being presented next week at the annual meeting of the Radiological Society of North America (RSNA).

According to the National Center for Health Statistics, approximately 17.6% of adults in the U.S. have experienced a post-COVID condition commonly referred to as long COVID. People with long COVID may exhibit a wide variety of symptoms, including difficulty concentrating ("brain fog"), change in sense of smell or taste, fatigue, joint or muscle pain, dyspnea (shortness of breath), digestive symptoms, and more. These symptoms may persist for weeks, months, or even years after COVID-19 infection.

Researchers from the University of Iowa in Iowa City set out to assess associations between pulmonary MRI gas exchange, structural and functional brain MRI, and cognition in long COVID patients. In pulmonary gas exchange, oxygen moves from the lungs to the bloodstream, while carbon dioxide moves from the bloodstream to the lungs.

"This is the first time that MRI has been used to jointly assess lung and brain function to investigate their relationship in long COVID," said the study's lead author Keegan Staab, B.S., graduate research assistant in the Department of Radiology at the University of Iowa in Iowa City. "This research is new in that it combines multiple unique imaging types to study a multiorgan relationship in a disease population."

Senior study author Sean B. Fain, Ph.D., professor and vice chair for research in the Department of Radiology at the University of Iowa, added, "If these findings can be generalized to the long COVID population, the study suggests that there may be a causative relationship between cognitive dysfunction and lung dysfunction, suggesting a potential treatment strategy using methods that target improved gas exchange."

For the study, 10 female and 2 male patients (median age: 59 years) who had persistent dyspnea and/or fatigue following the resolution of acute COVID-19 infection were recruited from a post-COVID-19 clinic. Hyperpolarized Xe pulmonary MRI, structural and functional brain MRI, pulmonary function tests and cognitive tests were acquired.

"129Xe MRI allows for advanced measurements of ventilation and gas exchange," Staab said. "The literature also indicates that 129Xe may be more sensitive to pulmonary injury compared to standard breathing tests, making it better suited to study long COVID in which patients typically have normal breathing tests."

Perceived cognitive difficulties were measured using Patient-Reported Outcomes Measurement Information System, and objective cognitive performance was assessed using the National Institutes of Health Toolbox V3 Cognition Battery.

"There was a range of cognitive difficulties among the patients in the study," Staab said. "Some were mild and indicated slight dysfunction, while others were more serious and indicated that some patients have slow thinking and trouble concentrating several times per day."

The results showed that lower pulmonary gas exchange may be associated with cognitive dysfunction, as well as lower gray matter and white matter volumes in patients with long COVID. In addition, the researchers observed significant relationships suggesting that increased cerebral blood flow is associated with decreased gas exchange in long COVID patients.

Staab said larger studies are needed to investigate the association between gas exchange and cerebral blood flow in long COVID.

"This relationship could be a compensatory mechanism where lower lung function is compensated by higher cardiac output and higher brain perfusion," he said. "It's also a possibility that the disease mechanism that impairs pulmonary gas exchange also leads to higher brain perfusion through downstream vascular injury in both lung and brain."

Based on the findings of this study, gas exchange abnormalities may help identify long COVID patients who require additional treatment or long-term management.

Other co-authors are Marrissa J. McIntosh, Ph.DDD., Jonathan L. Percy, B.S., Andrew D. Hahn, Ph.DDD., Natally AlArab, M.D., Conner J. Wharff, B.S. B.A. RT(R)(MR), Eric Bruening, M.S., Alejandro P. Comellas, M.D., Eric A. Hoffman, Ph.DDD., Carinda Linkenmeyer, M.A.E., Tara Lanning, B.S., and Karin F. Hoth, Ph.DDD.

Note: Copies of RSNA 2024 news releases and electronic images will be available online at RSNA.org/press24.

RSNA is an association of radiologists, radiation oncologists, medical physicists and related scientists promoting excellence in patient care and health care delivery through education, research and technologic innovation. The Society is based in Oak Brook, Illinois. (RSNA.org)

[boringbones]

We've debunked yet another myth from the Sims 3 community. We've added 60 items to the inventory of 35 Sims, bringing the 2100 new items. We've been playing for a week and the game has maintained exactly the same performance and functionality. A full inventory DOES NOT CRASH THE SIMS 3!!

You can check out our live test battery here

With our recent discovery, you can add items and objects to your Sims' inventory that relate to their personality traits to expand and amplify the number of interactions and behaviors, in order to make them even more unique and authentic.

[cazzyf1]

Lore about Carel Godin de Beaufort

Because this man seemed to live for causing chaos for the laughs wherever he went ✨️

Called his car 'Fatty Porsche', as it was the only car he could fit into with his large frame.

He would race in his socks, no shoes, to reduce the length of his feet.

He tried to stay as light as possible and loose weight by only eating tasteless biscuits while travelling and making his team do the same.

He once explained on TV that it was safer to pass a crossing at 150 km/h than 50 km/h as you spend less time at this crossing.... 

One of his biggest pranks he committed as a kid was that he tied two rubber cables of 100 yards in length to the back of the Chevrolet in which two Amsterdam magistrates came to visit his father at Maarsbergen. When the judges prepared to leave along the driveway, young Carel almost choked with pleasure as he saw the Chevy's acceleration slowly grind to a complete stop, after which the car suddenly shot back and smacked into the tree he had attached those cables to. Unfortunately, Carel had been uncareful in moving out of his irate father's view, upon which the old man stormed into the house to come out with his hunting rifle. Carel couldn't care less, as he had long since run for cover behind the park's rhododendrons.

Carel once brought a car battery with a big horn with him into his classroom. In those days, classrooms were quiet places where only the teacher spoke, unless a pupil was requested to. So it was a nasty surprise for the teacher when suddenly this horn shattered the silence

During a practice lap around Nürburgring he decided to wear a Beatles wig to amuse the crowds as he raced around.

As a kid, he attempted to drive a VW Beetle under a trailer; he did not succeed.

Another pastime as a child was tying matchboxes to tree branches and then using a Canadian army Jeep to take a run at them, jumping from his seat to try and pull them from the trees.

He was banned from driving in Belgium once but decided he was going to race anyway and sneaked in, however, after doing a few laps, the race organisers noticed him and black flagged him, yet he continued for another lap anyway, holding up the world champion Jack Brabham

In Germany, he tied a Bratwurst stand to the back of his car, and it resulted in a lot of sausages covered in bits and pieces of stone and wood

While he was in France, he had slept during the afternoon at his hotel and discovered Dutch motorsport journalist Rob Wiedenhoff waiting for him in the lobby. Carel did not have any transport to the circuit, so they travelled in Rob’s Chrysler and en route made a detour to a garage where Carel’s Porsche was being serviced by the Porsche crew. The crate of beer they brought was warmly appreciated. But while travelling at speed towards the circuit gates, a French gendarme stepped in their way, instructing them to stop, but he pressed his left foot on top of Wiedenhoff’s right, with the Chrysler narrowly missing the officer.

At the Avus sportscar race, he clipped the top of the banked Nordkurve, his Porsche tumbling down into the trees at the back of the banking. Miraculously, the car performed a cat-with-nine-lives trick by falling on its feet unscathed. As if nothing had happened. Carel then went on to rejoin the race at the bottom of the banking. The race officials needed some time to convince themselves it was not Beaufort's ghost doing the honours before they pulled out the black flag to disqualify the battered Porsche…The next day, he had his picture taken at the scene of the event, Carel in his overalls, putting on a brave pose. The photoshoot distinctly lacked taste, as Jean Behra had been killed at the very spot, in the very same race

At another Belgian GP a couple of years later, he took an F2 Cooper onto the track to test it, simply driving it onto the circuit. Eventually the organisers noted from their entry list that the car’s number wasn’t on it and he was black-flagged.

During the French GP at Reims, when official practice had finished, it was noted that he and his orange Porsche were missing. Fearing an accident, the race organisers sent out a search team but discovered he had stopped at a distant part of the circuit to pick up an attractive female spectator, to give her a ride around the track.

At the Nürburgring 1000 km in 1956, Carel de Beaufort and Thieu Hezemans entered the Spyder but found the car had a leaking fuel tank. The whole weekend the hole was plugged by chewing gum. "I have never seen so many people chew", Carel later reminisced. "In the end, our guys had aching jaws, so we had to set the neighbouring crew members to work!"

For footage for someone he once raced with a camera on his car which fell off causing a big crash for Graham Hill.

He raced the Mille Migila without a co driver and got two trophies one for Mr Godin and one for Mr de Beaufort…

"I own the car I drove at Zandvoort. I bought it last year. It's prepared in the same way as the works cars, with the difference that I own it. When I get lucky it's even prepared better than one of the factory cars. Yes, that happens sometimes! At Zandvoort I beat Bonnier, and he's a factory Porsche driver. The thing is, works cars are prepared in advance and the mechanics do not have any meaningful contact with the drivers anymore. They just fly in to the track, to Zandvoort, or Monza, or the Nürburgring, and never visit the factory. My way is different from theirs. I go to the factory and tell them exactly what I want. On my return from a race I'll tell them all my stories and show the guys my time sheets and the photographs I took. In the evenings, I'll take them out to dinner. And in case they need to work late, I'll buy them a crate of beer and bring along a pile of food. And that's just huge, that's fantastic. Essentially it's the reason why I've been going great this season in that old car of mine. Mind you, it's three years old now and still I've beaten the factory cars on many occasions. I believe my profound personal contact with the guys at the Porsche factory is the key to that. I am very happy to be a privateer. You get much more satisfaction out of racing by beating the works drivers. It's no fun flying from Grand Prix to Grand Prix, jump into the car, do your thing and fly off again."

[whirligig-girl]

Welcome to the City South Derail Valley Railway Museum. I'm Luna, an engineer with Derail Valley Railworks & Transportation Co. for my day job, and I'll be giving you a tour and I'll explain some of the history of the Museum and its exhibits.

The Museum was originally built in 1970, where it included various historical artifacts of the history of railroading in the Valley, such as a S110-200 Planet-type, the first steam locomotive to work the valley, and the S462-630 Pacific passenger steam loco, and the F060-310 fireless shunter that once worked at the power plant.

In 1973, the Derail Valley Railway donated the Demonstrators to the Railway Museum. These were locomotives sent by the manufacturer for testing on the railway, and when the first batches were sent, the railway kept the good demonstrators and sent away the rest.

Unfortunately during the late days of the Soviet Union, the museum had to be closed, and after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Demonstrators were sold off to the various company-owned industrial railroads that sprung up on DVRW trackage.

In 2008 the various industrial railroads were conglomerated into the state-owned Derail Valley Railworks & Transportation Company, and the Demonstrators fell into DVRT ownership, but by then many of them had been worked to the bone and abandoned in nearly scrap condition.

Now in 2025, the Derail Valley Railway Museum has been reopened and almost all of the Demonstrators have been restored. Let's take a look at each locomotive in order of its rediscovery.

DH4-670 No.35 Diesel-Hydraulic Road Switcher

The DH4 was the first to be found, as it was discovered on the first meeting of the Museum board of directors as soon as the museum was re-formed--it was directly outside the passenger station in City South, apparently having been set up as a static display when the museum was closed. After moving the DH4 back onto the rails, it was shunted onto the turntable by a battery electric microshunter. Unfortunately the Museum lived up to its name--the turntable was aligned incorrectly.

The DH4-670 wasn't the first DH4 to be trialed by the railway. The west german company MaK designed a similar class for use on Deutsche Bahn, the V90.

The by-then 10 year old locomotives were trialed in the Valley, but found to be slightly too long for some of the tight curves, so the railway ordered a custom snub-nose variant with shorter hoods and wheelbase, and with a slightly smaller cab. The first of these units to be delivered performed slightly better, so Derail Valley Railway ordered a batch of the locomotives in 1972.

The DH4 Demonstrator was our first restoration project, and served as a testbed and learning experience for many of our volunteers. The DH4 has a day job working for the railway too--we're able to provide entry for free by taking contracts to do deliveries for DVRT using our restored locomotives.

S060-440 No.22 Tank Engine

After the closure of the museum, the S060 demonstrator was sold to the Derail Forest Logging Company, and converted to wood burning, before being abandoned on a siding at the Sawmill.

During World War II, the United States Army Transportation Corps developed several classes of steam locomotives to be exported to assist with the allied war effort, including the S100 class tank engine. After the war, many of these ended up in eastern european countries, such as Yugoslavia and Derail Valley.

Derail Valley classified these as S060-440, while Yugoslavian Railways classified theirs as Class 62. These locomotives became workhorses in shunting yards, and both railways built 'clones' to a very similar design and specification.

The Yugoslavian Class 62s were built from 1952-1961 and can be distinguished by their higher pitched boilers and angled branch pipes connecting to the cylinders.

Popular consensus among the women and men who work on DVRT's steam engines is that the S060-440s are imported Yugoslav Class 62s, but this is a misconception. Derail Valley Railway built their own S100 clones to different specifications.

Note that the side tanks are shorter and more sloped, and the cab windows are much larger, in order to increase visibility and safety.

Though the S060-440 class contains original American S100s, the second batch of Derail native S060s was larger. Thus, the S060 demonstrator has the dubious honor of being younger than some of the other locomotives of its own class which serve in the valley.

The livery the S060 demonstrator was restored into was not that which it was originally built in (it would have been delivered in the same green and black livery as the other S060s), but is instead a passenger livery applied to it by the Derail Valley Railway Museum in 1971 for running excursions to the Harbor and back. Since it became more famous in this livery than the original one, we restored it to this condition as well.

S282-730 No. 83 Mikado Steam Locomotive

The S282 Demonstrator was found on a static display near the disused passenger station in City West in dire condition.

The S282 was originally designated SH282-630, and delivered in the same black livery with red frames that DVRT operates them with to this day. It is a popular misconception that the S282 are USATC S200-class mikados, but these locos are only superficially similar, and at any rate, the S282s were originally built between 1938 and 1945, predating the USATC S200 by 3 years. They were built by the railway's own mechanical department, to an original design, although with some U.S. influences like the cowcatcher-style pilot.

These locomotives served alongside liberated german class 52s (classified as S2X0-740) in the Valley through the 1960s, when many of them were becoming worn out. As diesels (DM3s and DE6s) began to phase out steam in the valley, the railway's chief mechanical officer was unconvinced that dieselization was worth it, given the valley's ample reserves of high-grade coal. (This was before the oil wells were built, so at the time the valley had to import all oil).

In 1978, the CMO brought on steam engineering experts to determine how to uprate the SH282, increasing tonnage and decreasing maintenance costs. The result was the S282-730, which was differentiated from the rest of the fleet by its bright and modern blue livery.

The S282-730 incorporated a larger steam chest, reworked suspension, a superheater, a more advanced exhaust ejector, a larger sand dome, and removed the snifters to reduce steam leaks. (prevention of backdraught was done by leaving the reverser in mid-gear while drifting). A gas producer combustion system firebox was also trialed, which allowed for more complete coal combustion and a much higher steam generation rate in the S282's narrow fireboxes.

The result was a steam locomotive that could rival the DE6 in raw power output, although it had a tendency to wheelslip. The S282s were and still are primarily used on coal trains to the steel mill and power plant, but they often find use on other mixed goods trains when a DE6 is unavailable or uneconomical.

The locomotive was not immediately popular with crews, but the railway management was impressed, and ordered the entire S282 fleet to be converted to the 730 class. The Class 52s were offloaded to other soviet socialist republics and some were scrapped.

No.83 here is the very first of the rebuilt S282s, the experimental one. Though it was eventually repainted in DVRT Black and Red, when it was donated to the museum in 1982 it was restored to its iconic Blue livery.

No.83 double heads a long and heavy freight train alongside a DVRT S282 and DH4 Demonstrator No.35 as a diesel helper. In the future we hope to use the paired blue locomotives on excursion passenger trains, when or if DVRT resumes passenger operations as planned.

Museum locomotives contain several modern amenities to make operations go as smoothly and safely as possible. The throttle and sander is electromechanically controlled by an anti-wheelslip detector like those found in some advanced diesel locomotives, and the engineer side shelf is decked out with electronic amenities such as a roadrunner, clinometer, and switch setter. There's also a digital speedometer on the cab wall and the tender, and LED lights (since the S282s were never built with electric cab lights).

Some of our volunteers think we keep the cab a little too clean, between you and me, but if the rest of the locomotive looks spotless, why not the inside?

DE2-480 No.85 Diesel-Electric Shunter

The DE2 Demonstrator's whereabouts were difficult to track down, until one of our volunteers located it during the routine runs to the Machine Factory & Town to deliver replacement parts for another demonstrator. While servicing the Utility Railbus, the driver noticed it hiding in a pile of scrap next to the Machine Factory's roundhouse. Apparently it had been used as as yard shunter for local industries in the 1990s, before it fell into disrepair and was reallocated as a shop switcher. One day its engine stopped turning over, so it was moved beside the shop and used for spare parts.

The DE2 is one of Derail Valley's original designs, though using imported diesel prime movers, they were built locally in the Machine Factory & Town from 1986 all the way through the fall of the Soviet Union until 1996, to fill the gaps left behind by the aging DM3 and S060 fleet.

By 1996 the economy had tanked enough that exporting locomotives became impossible. Nevertheless, the popularity of the DE2-440 abroad has earned it practically mascot status for Derail Valley, being perhaps the most instantly recognizable locomotive to run on DV metals.

Several DE2s ended up on Czech Railways, which inspired the 708 Series of Diesel Electrics built between 2002 and 2006, which were slightly uprated clones of the Derail-built DE2s. Many of these ended up on Serbian Railways.

This DE2 Demonstrator has the amusing subversion in that it was not a demonstrator sent to the valley, but rather sent by Derail Valley to other countries, hence its incorporation of the iconic orange and blue color scheme found on the DE6. This demonstrator was sent to the United Kingdom, but it was ultimately returned as the UK already had the very successful Class 08 shunters, and then it was given to the Museum, as it was the only locomotive the museum was missing.

DE6-860 No.20 Diesel Electric Road Locomotive

The DE6 Demonstrator was found buried in the bushes in the Goods Factory passenger station, having been used for some of the last passenger trains to run in the valley before it was left on its own and vandalized.

Although it was recovered into museum custody a while ago, it was only recently that the Museum could afford to have it restored, as it is a very expensive and complicated locomotive.

The first DE6 to arrive in the valley was an Electro-Motive Division G16, an export from the U.S.A., built in 1958-1972, similar to those used in other eastern european countries.

The first unit arrived in 1958, and crews found them comfortable and efficient compared to steam engines, although a derailment on the old trackage near City West a few months into its trial led to disappointment--it was just too long. The G16 demonstrator was sent back to EMD, and the Derail Valley Railway ordered a custom-built prototype for a shortened G16 from EMD, using shorter frames but the same diesel prime mover, and the cut-nose short-hood design employed on Australian G16s.

The prototype DE6-860 arrived in 1960, and was even better enjoyed than the G16. Several batches were ordered between 1960 and 1975. Another batch was planned in 1980, but was cancelled due to the success of the S282-730 refit class.

Although in the long run the DE6s ended up being less economical to use than the S282s for most operations due to their much cheaper fuel costs, the DE6 still very much has a place as it can be strung together with other DE6s to form a multiple unit, capable of pulling some of DVRT's longest mixed trains.

The DE6 is the most recent Demonstrator to be restored, the restoration actually having been finished just yesterday. It has yet to be christened with an actual run-in. The Demonstrator, number 20, was the prototype of the DE2-860 class, the very first ever built. It has a few mechanical oddities as a result, but over the years it has been put in-line with the rest of the class. When number 20 was built, it had the high-hood of the original G16, but this was modified by Derail Valley Railway in 1965.

DM3-540 No. 56 Diesel-Mechanical Shunter

Can you spot No.56 in this photograph of the steel mill?

The DM3 Demonstrator has proved to be the most difficult to track down. There was no documentation we could find as to its whereabouts, so the Museum sent out volunteers to all of the stations and industries served by the railway to seek it out, or at least find information about if it had been scrapped or sold.

The research done by our volunteers led to the DM3's resting spot being narrowed down to a few specific possible locations, which were checked individually.

The expedition to the steel mill nearly packed up and left, before someone noticed something red in the bushes.

The DM3 was rerailed and towed away by the Utility Railbus just yesterday, while the finishing touches were being made on the DE6.

We learned from the management that the DM3 demonstrator had been used since 1997 as a yard switcher for the steel mill, occasionally taking trains on the road when no other engine was available. It had actually been in use by the Steel Mill as late as 2014, when it finally died, and since by then DVRT had moved in to handle operations in the steel mill, it was never repaired.

The DM3 was built in East Germany and shares some similarities with the British Railways Class 04 diesels.

This design similarity may be intentional or simply a coincidence, but the actual mechanics of the locomotive are very different, with a prime mover almost twice as large as the Class 04. Sorry Mavis. From uh. Thomas the Tank Engine.

The DM3 was the first successful diesel engine class to work in Derail Valley, having arrived in 1949, with more batches purchased through to 1962. The DM3 has a reputation among railway crews for being able to move a mountain if given enough sand, due to its manual transmission and very low gear ratio. Indeed, despite being smaller, it can often outshunt a DH4, although it is limited to very low speeds and even with a small train they can only go about 60 kph before the engine takes damage.

The DM3 is the most thermally efficient locomotive operated by DVRT, since a diesel engine is one of the most efficient heat engines and a diesel mechanical applies the power of a diesel engine with minimal heat losses. In addition, its relatively simple engine makes it the easiest locomotive to repair and service. We expect the DM3 Demonstrator's restoration to be relatively smooth, and it was in better condition than some of the other demonstrators.

Thank you for visiting the museum, and feel free to look at the Demonstrators and let me or another volunteer know if you have any questions.