#Data logging consultants

[appliedmeasurementaustralia]

Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Right Data Logger for Your Application

Data loggers are indispensable tools in various industries, from environmental monitoring to scientific research and beyond. With a plethora of options available in the market, selecting the Best data logger for your specific application can feel daunting.

Fear not! In this ultimate guide, we'll walk you through everything you need to know to make an informed decision.

Understanding Your Application Needs

Before diving into the world of data loggers, it's crucial to understand the specific requirements of your application. Ask yourself questions such as:

What type of data am I looking to collect?

What environmental conditions will the data logger be exposed to?

How frequently will I need to retrieve or access the data?

By identifying your needs upfront, you'll be better equipped to narrow down your options and find the ideal data logger.

Key Features to Consider

When evaluating data loggers, several key features should be on your radar:

Measurement Parameters: Different data loggers specialise in recording various parameters, including temperature, humidity, pressure, voltage, and more. Ensure the data logger you choose can accurately measure the parameters relevant to your application.

Accuracy and Precision: The accuracy and precision of a data logger can significantly impact the reliability of your data. Look for devices with high-quality sensors and calibration options to ensure precise measurements.

Memory Capacity: Consider the amount of data storage required for your application. Some data loggers offer ample onboard memory, while others may require external storage options like SD cards or cloud-based solutions.

Battery Life and Power Options: For applications in remote or inaccessible locations, battery life is paramount. Evaluate the data logger's power consumption and consider options for battery replacement or alternative power sources.

Durability and Environmental Ratings: Depending on your application environment, you may need a data logger that can withstand harsh conditions such as extreme temperatures, moisture, or dust. Look for devices with robust construction and appropriate environmental ratings.

Choosing the Right Type of Data Logger

Data loggers come in various shapes and sizes, each tailored to specific applications:

Standalone Data Loggers: Standalone data loggers are self-contained devices that operate independently, making them ideal for applications where portability and simplicity are key.

Wireless Data Loggers: Wireless data loggers offer the convenience of remote monitoring and data retrieval via Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, or cellular networks. These are perfect for applications that require real-time data access or monitoring from a distance.

USB Data Loggers: USB data loggers are compact devices that connect directly to a computer or mobile device for data retrieval and analysis. They are suitable for applications where frequent data downloads are necessary.

Budget Considerations

While it's tempting to splurge on the latest and greatest data logger, it's essential to balance your needs with your budget. Consider the long-term costs of ownership, including maintenance, calibration, and support services.

Conclusion

If you're still unsure which data logger is right for your application, don't hesitate to seek advice from experts in the field. Reach out to data logger manufacturers, distributors, or industry professionals who can provide guidance based on their experience and expertise.

With these tips in mind, you're now equipped to navigate the vast landscape of data loggers and choose the perfect solution for your application.

Remember, the right data logger can make all the difference in the accuracy and reliability of your data, so choose wisely!

Source by - Choosing the Right Data Logger for Your Application

[5flow]

Atgeir specializes in Data Cloud solutions. Our teams of Data Architects and Engineers, boasting over 100 years of collective experience, leverage their extensive technical knowledge to empower clients within the Data Cloud ecosystem. We are committed to harnessing the synergies of Technology, Processes, and People to achieve tangible business results.

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter eight: In which the Express celebrates the Day of the Dead with you

Dan Heng’s room was nothing short of simple and surprisingly comfortable.

You’ve been digging around the archives again after your short trip to your favorite desert planet, ready to contribute to the logs that made up Dan Heng’s archive.

He’d allowed you to touch the monitors and type in what you wanted, surprising even Himeko as he was usually rather cautious to let other people(usually March, bless her heart) roam around and touch his things unless they only wanted to read up on things.

You thanked him for that, of course. It was rather sweet of him to allow you to do this.

And so you typed away— made little personal notes on what the culture was like, and people that you also knew as yourself and not Delia. While Dan Heng’s records of Sigonia IV already existed, you were compelled to make your own as well, as a thank you to the people that had been so far hospitable to you.

You haven’t seen little Kakavasha in your visit, so you too wondered how he is now. He’s probably an adult— not so little anymore, growing into the familiar visage of “Aventurine” that you knew in your past life, but you hope it’s not the same horribly tortured man you know.

There was still discrimination, even a bit more than a decade since the freedom of this clan— they still warred with the Katicans here and there, but the disputes were more manageable, less genocidal as the Avgin were more protected by humanitarian groups.

But there wasn’t really any real interest for the cultures of people that had been long discriminated even with your intervention, and if no one was going to do the job of helping them at least preserve a certain view of it, you’d do the job yourself.

Sigonia IV would not be the only place that would stay in the archives for the other future Nameless to find, maybe one day you’d ask for Boothill’s planet, because while it no longer existed, you believed it wasn’t fair for it to die along with him.

You’ve made notes of it, here and there from what little you could get from some books that made mention of it and Boothill’s ramblings. While you could always consult Fuli for the rest of the things, it felt disrespectful towards your friend. You may be an Aeon now, but you knew honor— prying without your friend’s permission felt invasive, you weren’t a human anymore, but you know that kind of stunt wouldn’t be something he would appreciate.

Suddenly, you wondered about the planets you’ve accidentally destroyed, about the lives you had taken without meaning to, and the ones you drove mad beyond your control. Your typing still continued, undeterred by your silent grief as information flowed into the data bank without even a slight inaccuracy despite the difference in how you felt.

You should grieve for the ones who were lost, you thought to yourself. Glancing at the date present in your monitor, you found it was the best time too.

The Day of the Dead.

You’re not even sure if people even celebrated that holiday in this world. Maybe Halloween, but you doubt Dia de los Muertos, as the Latinos would call it, or Araw ng mga patay, as the Filipinos would say, is something widely celebrated in an expanded universe such as this.

Maybe you’d find a world that does celebrate it someday, but for now, maybe you’re going to be alone in giving acknowledgment and silent grief to the ones that had been lost.

You weren’t very close to a religion in your previous life as a human, but now that you thought of the holidays that gave people solace and something to celebrate, you began to feel a little strange that there was no god you could pray to as you were now technically one yourself.

Worshippers weren’t so bad now when you think of it as people laying their problems to a willing ear they can’t see or hear to give them the peace of mind they desired.

You finished up the logs, determined to plant the Avgin’s language inside of it next on the next time you’d touch the monitor. But for now, you had a goal in mind.

——————————————

Some researchers knew you as a grieving Aeon, with your cries reaching the far ends of the cosmos for reasons they sometimes don’t understand.

They observed you once again, mindful to keep their distance from hundreds of light years away as the telescope that found your distant visage caught on the fact that you were crying yet again. But this time, you’re quiet. There was no horrible song of lament that fried wires and caused damage, this one was silent, this one was red.

The liquid that flowed from what seemed to be your eyes was crimson, your lips pressed together as your expression looked forlorn. The telescope saw your hands move, then suddenly, nothing.

You did not want it to see you.

——————————

Setting up an altar was relatively easy, decorated with flowers you’d grabbed from a world away in the expanse of a mountain and a lot of candles you’ve carefully lit.

Lives lost in the fight of freedom, and the lives you took without meaning to. There were too many to count, and you doubt Pompom would like to have the train set on fire.

There were no pictures, no relics, there was simply you, the flowers, the altar, the candles.

Welt had passed by your room and seemingly recognized the decor, quietly joining your side as you started to kneel in front of the altar and mumbled something along the lines of a familiar prayer that he vaguely recognized.

Sometimes Welt forgot you were a human in your previous life. You’ve told him before, when you disclosed things about yourself to him and Himeko.

There was no god that you knew to pray to here, and to make it stranger, you were one yourself. Maybe you were trying to emulate it— old habits maybe, old bits and pieces of your human personality, and reliving specific memories. Or maybe you’re just trying to commemorate those you’ve lost in the way you knew a distant life away.

Welt joined you in your prayer. There is no god to direct his thoughts to, but there’s a strange sense of peace there regardless.

Welt stood up after a few moments while you stayed, lingering before eventually leaving the room.

“Why does it smell like candles burning?” March asked as she encountered him in the hallway.

“It’s for a celebration.” He said. “A day to remember and honor the dead.”

She looked a little confused. “Day to honor the dead?”

“Yes, you can join [Name] in their room if you’d like. It’s not a bad thing, although I can understand why you’d be confused— it’s not widely celebrated after all.” Welt smiled as March slowly nodded.

————————

You weren’t in the room for much longer, opting to head to the kitchen so you could make something to eat. You were there for at least two hours, and everyone seemed to leave you alone to your devices as you made some dishes you remembered from a past life.

Some comfort food, and fluffy bread.

You brought it to the dinner table with a smile as Pompom trailed after you to arrange the bowls and plates for everyone.

Once you were done, you made do of calling everyone in to eat. They don’t really ask why there’s a different feast of savory and sweet food on the table that was clearly not Pompom’s cooking.

Welt looked at you in a certain way that you know that he knew things, and you sent him an appreciative nod as you gestured for everyone to sit down and eat.

“These are some.. recipes that I know from my homeworld.” You began. “These typically aren’t stuff you would get when you’re celebrating the holiday in a very traditional way, but sadly my knowledge of cooking is… kinda limited.” You scratched your temple awkwardly.

“You don’t have to apologize for it.” Himeko said. “It’s the intent that counts.” She smiled, then placed some bread on her plate and stew in her bowl.

“You’re right.” You gave her a small smile of your own.

You failed to spot Dan Heng at the corner of your eye, looking at the bowl of stew in contemplation as Welt’s words sprang up memories of old friends lost in a life he didn’t want to remember.

Maybe he’d allow himself to grieve losses just this once, even if that person who’s lost those people in a distant life away wasn’t him anymore. Maybe for those that Blade had taken from him too in this life.

“Are you okay?” March nudged him gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He said, blinking and snapping out of his thoughts before sinking his spoon into the stew.

Dan Heng found comfort in its flavor.

—————————————

March had taken photos of your room with the altar after dinner, plastering it into her wall with the label “Day of the Dead” in earth colored frames that contrasted the aesthetics of her room. She didn’t mind as much, surprising even herself as she was rather picky about her own decorations.

However, this was something that you shared with them, and that mattered to her. She couldn’t remember her past, and so to have a small piece of someone she knew that saved her was a nice feeling because she didn’t really quite know you. She doubt she ever would actually know you in the way the older crew members do, but that’s okay, that meant she could know you through the new memories she’d create.

She thought of you for a moment and what you’d lost, and she also wondered about the past self she can’t remember. Did she have people that she lost too? Were there people that lost her? Were there people that missed her?

She remembered her conversation with you, a strangely solemn topic for a girl so bubbly like her.

“What do you usually do?” She asked, clearly referring to the little holiday.

“People usually prayed, then offered food and flowers to their dead and all that.” You replied. “I thought it’d be a little nice to honor the people lost along the way. It’s a thing in my old world to not forget the dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She found herself saying. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You don’t have to worry, it’s not offensive at all.” You smiled and patted the spot next to you. “It’s a pretty big celebration in my world, and in some countries it’d be a lot livelier than this.” You said as she went to sit next to you.

“They’d wear costumes and make up and bring out live music and everything. The food’s a lot better too I think— there’s too many for me to remember, so the ones I made weren’t the traditional ones people ate during that day.” You explained as she listened attentively.

“That’s okay, it was delicious anyways.” She giggled, shifting slightly to adjust herself before settling in comfortably in a few moments of silence.

“Do you…. Miss your old world? Ah— you don’t have to answer that.” March sputtered, realizing her mistake.

“It’s okay. And yeah… maybe just a bit. I’m not sure how to feel about it to be honest.” You said, glancing at the windows of your room.

She couldn’t see what kind of expression you were making, and so she found herself hugging you. There was something inherently sad about you despite your antics, like you’ve lost too many things.

You returned that embrace.

————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX(HERE), Part X……

Interludes: one, two…

Special chapter: link

Yeeeeee hello y’all!!! Pushing this chapter out in celebration of All Souls Day! :DD

I hope all of you are well! Also I’ll be happy to answer any of your questions regarding the series, so drop any thoughts, don’t be shy <333

[trombonesinspace]

In defense of book!Gurathin

So, I haven’t seen the Murderbot show so far, but I’ve been reading through the tag to see what other people think of it.

And I’m noticing something that kind of baffles me—the way people are talking about Gurathin. I’ve seen show!Gurathin described as pathetic, cringe, hostile, menacing (or trying and failing to be menacing), and generally a loser…by people who also say he’s perfect, spot-on, just like the book.

And of course, different people will interpret a character in different ways. But I’m just…really? That’s what you think he was like in the book?

Because here’s how I see him. Early on in All Systems Red, we’re told that he is less talkative than the rest of PresAux, but he seems to like them and they clearly like him. He is described as having a small, quiet smile. An introvert, cool!

As the book goes on, he is shown to be more cynical/skeptical/suspicious than the rest of the team. But there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. After all, SecUnit definitely thinks that various members of PresAux are naive, due to living outside the corporation rim.

Gurathin is also shown to be intelligent and competent, and even SecUnit calls him brave.

The trouble is, of course, that Gurathin becomes an antagonist to SecUnit, our beloved protagonist. And because it’s SecUnit itself who is describing all their interactions, that pre-disposes the reader to dislike him.

But look at the situation. The survey has been forced to take along a corporate-branded security consultant that they did not want, that (they think) must obey the company’s orders. Gurathin notices some anomalies in that consultant, amid mounting evidence that their survey mission is being sabotaged.

Of course he suspects SecUnit.

The fact that he goes into its personal systems and reads its logs while it’s shut down is absolutely an invasion of privacy. But a) by this point they know the DeltFall group was murdered, and he’s trying to make sure that doesn’t happen to PresAux, and b) I think he would have done the same thing if the unwanted corporate security consultant had been human. He would have snooped into whatever private information was available, because he doesn’t trust the company, and because all their lives are in danger.

Violating someone’s privacy to keep them all alive is…maybe not great? But I don’t think it means that he doesn’t see SecUnit as a person. And it’s also no worse than every morally grey character ever who does the questionable but necessary thing that the other members of the team wouldn’t.

And what he finds out is a real oh shit moment: this SecUnit has a non-functional governor module, and it has killed clients in the past. The first fact means it doesn’t have to follow company orders after all, but the second fact kind of outweighs that.

Maybe he should have been more convinced by SecUnit risking itself to keep them all alive, when it didn’t have to—that’s a pretty solid argument in its favor.

But on the other hand, he saw SecUnit’s abject horror when Mensah invited it to hang out in the crew area. He’s experienced the way SecUnit avoids looking at or talking to anyone unless circumstances make it necessary. To someone who is already suspicious, SecUnit’s outward presentation must look like someone who doesn’t care about its clients at all. Especially given, you know, the murder.

Ultimately, though, when the rest of the group decides to trust SecUnit, he doesn’t try to stop them. He just…keeps a watchful eye out. Takes the opportunity to test it for outside influence, questions it about it’s functioning, asking if it blames humans for how it’s been treated. Seeking data to prove or disprove a hypothesis, like the scientist he is.

And he also works with SecUnit despite his misgivings, helping it analyze the data from the drones, and telling it (correctly) where the weak point is in its plan to launch the beacon.

The reader, of course, sees all this through SecUnit’s eyes, so it’s easy to accept all of its opinions as fact. But the fandom seems happy to acknowledge that SecUnit is an unreliable narrator in other areas of the story, so why accept its perspective without question when it comes to Gurathin?

I think it’s fair to say that he’s more abrasive than strictly necessary in his interactions with SecUnit. A bit of an asshole, sure. But essentially a smart, competent scientist, who likes and is liked by his colleagues, like the rest of PresAux. Not a pathetic, cringe, wet cat of a man, or a hostile, malevolent weirdo.

Am I the only one reading him this way? Does everyone else really think book!Gurathin is…like that?

To be clear, I have no problem with people liking show!Gurathin. Again, I have not seen the show, and obviously it’s too soon to say how he’ll develop over the course of the season. But the way I’m seeing show!Gurathin described after the first two episodes really does not match my reading of the book. And it doesn’t have to—I’m just surprised by how many people are saying he’s book-accurate.

Honestly, maybe I just wanted an excuse to dive into the character, and look past SecUnit’s (understandably!) jaundiced opinion of him. I actually have more thoughts about how the Gurathin-SecUnit dynamic develops in later books, but I think I’ll write that up separately so this post doesn’t get any longer!

[osterby]

Historical top video game fandoms on AO3, and how they've grown over the life of the archive

I dove into the depths of AO3 and figured out the top video game fandoms each year, and put them all on some graphs.

Here's everything which at one point was among the top five within the video game section.

Here's everything except Genshin Impact, just for better visuals

And here're the historical top five split into two graphs so you can see the larger and smaller fandoms separately (note the difference in scale)

Here's a log scale showing the growth of the top video game fandoms against the growth of the entire archive.

For more graphs, a separate section on Dragon Age, and a full writeup of how I obtained these numbers and what they mean, see the full work on AO3.

Interactable versions of the graphs are on a Google spreadsheet here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62226781/chapters/159187414

____________

Methodology: Short Version (the long version is here)

I used Wayback machine snapshots to estimate the top fandoms tags in the Video Game Fandoms category per year, sifted out tags that aren't actually video game fandoms (for example, Harry Potter is there on the strength of Hogwarts Mystery and a Lego game alone), and then made some judgement calls about when to track a single game's tag vs a franchise's tag vs a mid-level umbrella tag. These descisions were based primarily on consulting with fans of the games/franchises in question and asking what they consider to be separate fandoms, but was also influenced by how tags are wrangled into dependencies on AO3 (which influences what data is acutally available to track in the first place).

Then I verified/updated the Wayback lists by searching AO3 for works within each tag created before Jan 1st of each year, tracked the top five of those tags for each year over the life of the archive, and finally used Google Sheets to turn those numbers into graphs.

[ghost-bxrd]

Subject 223 continues to act against instincts and has decided against migrating with the local shiver, opting to stay away from others of his species, presumably to protect Subject R1G.

Similarly, subject R1G has not ventured further from Subject 223 than strictly necessary, foregoing the observed attempts at integration into a reef pod in favor of staying with Subject 223

Mating behavior: unchanged. Paternal behaviors of Subject 223 persist despite Subject R1G reaching maturity two years prior.

Hypothesis: Subject 223 has adjusted his its behavior to function in a mammalian pod indefinitely in response to raising Subject R1G, return to regular species behavior: highly unlikely

— log entry 3.18.231, regarding recently observed migration status of Subject 223 and R1G, conclusion: unchanged, evaluation: pending

File Notes:

Researcher: [REDACTED], status: deceased

Consult log entries 3.18-x for further data. Admissibility: inconclusive

[semperintrepida]

A few of you asked, so here's how I'd re-write the opening act to Horizon Forbidden West to give Aloy—and Elisabet Sobeck—the respect she deserves.

(Putting all 1600!!! words of this under a jump cut for spoiler reasons.)

My biggest beef with HFW is that it has a Sylens problem. Namely, keeping him five steps ahead of Aloy and having him lead her by the nose from place to place doesn't make him a better, more threatening villain. It makes Aloy look incompetent, and even worse, makes us question her exceptional nature. (If some guy can figure all this technology out, what's so special about Aloy?) I'll have more to say later about Aloy's exceptionalism as it's key (hee hee) to this entire story.

So here's how I'd fix what ails canon. Imagine an HFW that begins much like the original game, with Aloy (along with Varl) searching for the GAIA kernel at Far Zenith HQ, where she eventually discovers the Travis Tate logic bomb that deleted all the stolen copies of the kernel. Out of ideas, she and Varl travel to Meridian to consult with Blameless Marad, from whom she learns of the recent activation of the Spire. She investigates the burnt-out Horus core and realizes that whatever was left of HADES, it's been stolen by Sylens.

She climbs the Spire. At the top, she overrides the input jack and accesses the Spire's logs, which indicate that the Spire was recently used to relay a large quantity of data to a location unknown.

Back on the ground, Aloy asks Avad and Blameless Marad to have their scholars search the records of the Carja army taken during excursions in the Forbidden West for anything that might resemble a base or installation built by the Old Ones: every triangle door, every strange ruin. If Aloy has to look inside every cave in the West, she will do it.

While she waits, she catches up with her old friends in Meridian. Then, she has a conversation with Varl, where she admits her frustration with the search for GAIA proving difficult and fruitless so far. They talk about the hologram they saw at Zenith HQ, and Varl makes a remark about Travis Tate and his working relationship with Elisabet Sobeck, and how it seems they had a plan for everything.

This jogs something in Aloy's mind: how could Tate and Elisabet be confident in the work they produced if they didn't have a place to test it? A safe place. Thinking again of Sylens and how he stole HADES out from under her—and of his repeated attempts to hack into her Focus that she keeps having to block—she knows this place would have to be isolated and shielded from the rest of the world.

In a cutscene, we see her back at the top of the Spire, using the input jack to send it commands. As the Spire is connected to physical networks and it's also a wireless/radio transmitter, she uses it to scan the Forbidden West, looking for "empty spaces" in the network/wireless grid, gaps where a secret base might be found. The result is a set of three candidate coordinates, scattered in No Man's Land, the buffer between the Sundom and the Forbidden West.

But to get there, she'll have to get through the gate at Barren Light. A token from Avad will grant her the authority to pass through the gate, but she'll need to make peace with the Tenakth herself for permission to travel through their lands. Luckily for her, there's a diplomatic Embassy coming up. As in the original game, Aloy sneaks out late at night and leaves Varl behind.

Arriving at the Daunt, Aloy learns that there's trouble all over: machines infesting the valley, a work stoppage in Chainscrape, sabotage at Barren Light—and the Embassy is on hold until all of it is addressed.

Aloy begins clearing the valley of machines, and once she reaches Chainscrape, she runs into Petra, another old friend, and doesn't turn down an offer to catch up over a brew. This is how Aloy learns that Ulvund, the self-appointed "leader" of the Oseram workforce, is the one behind the work stoppage.

Time for a talk with the guy. Ulvund tries to bully Aloy around, but she's not going to let some pissant Oseram get in her way: he's going to blow the damn whistle if he doesn't want an arrow in his head. When he threatens her by calling his thugs to come closer, she tells him she'll put arrows in all their heads. Ulvund backs down, the whistle blows, and the work stoppage comes to an end. (The same sidequests are available as in the original game. If Aloy wants to bring him down further, she can do those quests as well.)

Once Aloy reaches Barren Light, she learns that the gate has been sabotaged. After a conversation with a Carja soldier falsely imprisoned for murder and some investigative legwork, Aloy discovers that the saboteurs are Eclipse cultists, who are operating out of a camp hidden somewhere in the Daunt. In a series of quests, Aloy uncovers their plans to attack the Embassy, discovers that they are following orders sent from somewhere to the west, and finally puts an end to their operation in the Daunt by destroying their camp. (In this fix-it, the Eclipse sidequest is elevated to a main quest and expanded.)

With the Eclipse and machine threats neutralized, the Embassy takes place as it does in the original game: Varl arrives just in time to join Aloy, they meet Fashav, Regalla attacks, the Embassy is annihilated.

But there's no time for grieving—or waiting for Varl's ankle to heal—as Aloy now has full access to No Man's Land and can proceed to the three candidate coordinates for the secret lab in any order.

Candidate 1 is a ruin but there's nothing of value to be found inside other than a few datapoints of lore.

Candidate 2 is a ruin near a Horus in the far north, where Aloy finds Sylens's abandoned workshop and the broken remnants of HADES trapped within the Horus's battered core. Sylens does not communicate directly to Aloy here; instead, she hacks into the ruin's surveillance system and watches a holo-log of his interrogation. Her conversation and eventual purging of HADES happen as they did in the original game. (All this quest does is provide more background lore as to what Sylens has been up to.)

Candidate 3 is the LATOPOLIS testing lab. The gene-locked door is not blocked by firegleam, and Aloy can enter easily. The rest of the LATOPOLIS sequence proceeds as in the original game—but without any involvement from Sylens. Aloy unlocks the storage container for the GAIA kernel and grabs a copy, only to be interrupted by the arrival of the Zeniths—and Beta the Sobeck clone—who were drawn to a stray radio signal that escaped from the lab during Aloy's explorations. (Perhaps the exterior shielding door gets jammed slightly open when the mechanism is operated for the first time in a thousand years.)

Now let's talk about Beta, and why her reveal is so crucial to HFW's story.

Until now, the Aloy we know is exceptional. Not only is she a world-class athlete and huntress, she's the clone of one of the greatest scientific minds humanity has ever produced and the one person left on earth who can activate the gene-locked doors and computer systems that require Alpha Prime access. She is the heroine of this story, the only one we trust to save the world. Aloy is the key.

Then Beta shows up. That's what we call an oh shit! moment. Now we have two keys in play—and Aloy is no longer as unique or exceptional as she once was.

If Aloy is the heart of Horizon, Beta is its soul. As much as the two clones have in common, and as much as one could argue that GAIA created Aloy to serve as a tool, Beta is that idea taken to the extreme: raised in isolation, taught only what was necessary to achieve the Zeniths' goals, she is the pure form of a genetic key. And the gap, the juxtaposition between Aloy and Beta is where this story gets interesting. Who is an Elisabet Sobeck clone beyond simply being a key?

That's the story lurking beneath the plot that I want to know more about.

(Regarding the firegleam igniter, Aloy learns the recipe to build one from the Oseram tinkerers Delah and Boomer. She can learn it in the Daunt during their first quest, or later in the desert during the second if she missed them the first time around.)

Aloy escapes from LATOPOLIS, nearly drowning when the effluent sweeps her into a nearby river. She manages to swim ashore, then loses consciousness.

Time passes in fever dreams of Rost and All Mother Mountain and other memories of the past, strange voices and hands, smears of yellow and green.

She awakens in an Utaru outpost, having been brought there by a party of Utaru foragers who found her on the riverbank. She's been delirious for a few days, and is injured badly enough that she'll have to stay longer. She doesn't get to shrug it off. The sun rises and sets, rises and sets, rises and sets, on and on until one day, when she's finally able to get up and move around a little, she hears a familiar voice: Varl, accompanied by Zo. He's finally found Aloy. And now it's time for Act 2 to begin.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Quebec has logged 12 cases of measles since the start of 2024, according to the latest data. Nine of those cases were reported in Montreal.

To help keep outbreaks in check, the province is tracking areas frequented by measles patients in recent weeks.

The tracker is on the Government of Quebec's website (in French only).

Here's the list for Montreal, last updated on March 9. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[thelongestway]

O...kay. Wow. This chapter is longer than I expected.

Yeah, this is nothing like the last story. This one keeps throwing me for a loop.

Let's just say that, while this development is in broad accordance with my outline, I am going to see if the next chapters I have planned even work after this. At all.

Chapter 6

When it awoke the next day of its imprisonment, this Friend did not know what to do with itself. So it washed. It ate the food left for it by one of the ship crew. It tried the terminal, but the power was cut. It inquired about the flight plan so it could provide a nearby destination point, but received the answer that the Trellians were still in negotiations. There was nothing to do, so this Friend pulled up the logs from the incident at the Preservation Station, requested pen and paper through Dandelion, and started conducting a formal threat assessment by hand.

Now that it had the time and space for an in-depth overview, the logs looked even more bizzare. Preservation Station security had initially banned Dandelion from entering entirely--an understandable move on their part. However, when they gave permission, it was so long as her drone was accompanied by a particular independent security consultant, who used the call sign 'SecUnit'. And nothing else.

This Friend found itself raising an eyebrow. Someone on Preservation had nerve. 'It' was apparently some sort of poly-drone control expert. Which made sense, for someone with expertise with biomechanical control schemas, and for someone who would be assigned to babysitting an unknown drone. From its outdated, three-something-year-old information, Preservation had few cyberneticists worth mentioning. It wouldn't be surprising for them to employ at least a few outsiders.

In her improvised extraction attempt, Dandelion had apparently identified this 'SecUnit' as the only real threat on site, able to incapacitate her drone, so she shut it down. Not the drone, the expert. Which meant it had enough augmentations for her to be able to do that from the feed. This Friend found itself wondering if Iceblink's attack would have killed this 'SecUnit' outright. Then it stopped daydreaming and went back to work.

Despite its area of expertise, 'SecUnit' did not attack her drone. It dropped a firewall, locking her in and alerting security. This Friend was very quick in the feed, and it would still likely have had to try for the drone out of pure necessity. This was impressive on its own, but then Dandelion woke 'SecUnit', and convinced it to help her extract this Friend. By sending it a hyperlink about the Friends and extolling its work ethic.

And somehow the security consultant switched from cursing her out in the feed to being adamantly against Preservation doctors 'healing' the Friend within the span of three seconds. Adamantly enough to… Actually suggest Dandelion take it hostage, instead of everyone else in the room, and allow her to do an alien remnant bit on its body? Which apparently it had drone-like control of?

The Friend buried its face in its hands and groaned.

"Having trouble, Friend?" Dandelion said with a tinge of irony.

It decided not to hide its frustration.

"Your extraction of this Friend's body, Dandelion Tenacious, is one of the most confounding things this Friend has ever seen in its job, and it flew a corporate blockade in a tiny shuttle several cycles ago."

They were not connected beyond the leash Dandelion had on this Friend, but it still felt her amusement. Deciding not to give her the satisfaction, this Friend made itself ignore the alien remnant bit. Besides, it was much worse that the timing made no sense. 'SecUnit' couldn't have read the whole file; nobody except bots and constructs processed data that fast. And if 'SecUnit' recognized the idea enough to follow up on it…

What the hell was going on aboard Preservation Station? Were there Friends already working here that it could no longer recall? Was there another dubiously friendly leak?

The later negotiations with Preservation Security were largely visibly redacted--Dandelion had informed the Friend she was under a non-disclosure clause. But there was one document originally intended for her from that time frame which she could share, and did.

This Friend read it. It was a threat assessment. It read the text again, then leaned back in the chair.

"Oh, you double-spiral of a penis, may you meet a cunt far twistier than you are," it said, and suddenly remembered it wasn't alone. "Uh. Dandelion?"

"Yes?"

"If this Friend may ask. Was this the… How did your feedhound put it… The one other paranoid asshole that accurately got my measure?"

The ship chuckled. This Friend felt odd to hear it, and conflicted. Irritation mixed with grudging relief.

"It was."

"This 'SecUnit' did well. This Friend asks to pass on its professional respects."

"Hmm." When this Dandelion had been human, she must have had the worst little smile. "No. I don't think I will."

Fuck you, this Friend thought, but forced a correspondingly terrible smile. "Ah, but this Friend is a prisoner. It almost forgot."

"True, but irrelevant. Apparently, Preservation Security has a package for you, from the people you saved. SecUnit will be the one to pass it on. It should be here in half an hour, perhaps. So if you have any respects to pay, Friend, you will not need me as an intermediary."

This Friend gave a shrug. There was nothing to do but continue the analysis until it got to meet the mystery poly-drone expert. It was mildly looking forward to it.

After 35 minutes, the Friend's door slid open. It said, "SecUnit." And looked up.

And this Friend nearly forgot how to breathe.

When it had briefly skimmed the video feeds (it had always preferred text to video), it did not pay much attention to the shaggy-looking augmented human with a perpetually bored expression on its face. But what walked in was definitely not human.

What gave it away? Everything. Yes, it was shorter than standard SecUnits were--this Friend's augmentations calculated, and gave it two centimeters, legs and arms both. Yes, the shaggy hair, grown out to make the data ports look more standard to the untrained eye. But this Friend knew machines, and it knew constructs, and-. And the movements. The drones. The practiced stare at the wall. There were energy weapon ports under the sleeves. It could imagine every bit of that hydraulic in its legs in detailed schemas.

"Yes." The SecUnit said. "I've got a package for you. From your clients."

No SecUnit says, 'I've got', what the fuck, was what the Friend wanted to say.

And but you were listed as an independent security contractor. And this has officially stopped being a shitshow and has become a fucking serial.

And are you really rogue or just undercover, because if you're undercover, your call sign is really stupid. And did they actually inject this Friend with antidrenomate and it is having the weirdest final hallucination. And did you just walk off the pages of this Friend's childhood scribbles to tell it that it has a package from its clients.

Instead it stared at the SecUnit like an idiot. And said, "SecUnit. Fuck. That wasn't a code name."

It wasn't even a code name, it was a call sign, this is fucking mortifying, the Friend thought, and couldn't say a word.

The SecUnit held out its package. The Friend took it automatically and set it down on the portion of the scribbles where it had called the SecUnit assorted creative names.

They stared at each other some more. Then the SecUnit turned and walked out.

This Friend stared at the package. Then it sat down on its bed. Then it started laughing.

Once this Friend's throat was hoarse, it said, through dying fits of laughter, "Dandelion? Are- are you there?"

"Yes?" she answered, somewhere between bewildered and concerned.

"Could you have told this Friend you were working with an actual fucking SecUnit, or was this an act of very creative friendicide?"

"Firstly, I am incredibly disturbed by this Friend having the word 'friendicide' in its active vocabulary. Secondly, SecUnit's designation was in every single piece of data I gave you. How, exactly, did you not notice?"

The Friend doubled over with laughter again, feeling the fits somewhere outside of itself, like it almost floated above its body.

"This- ahhhahaha- this- this Friend noticed! It- it- oh, it can't, it fucking can't- it just thought it was some cheeky fucker saying 'fuck you, you don't get to know me, assholes!!!' Dandelion, did you know that random hostiles, the kind that come out of nowhere and cause chaos, are sometimes called 'Friends' in s-sec circles? For old times' sake?"

"I did not," she answered quietly.

"Well, this Friend- oh, fuck it, fuck its entire fucking life- has always thought it would be kind of fitting if it used something like SecUnit for a call sign. You know. We're not so different. They clean shit up, we clean shit up. They jump in front of their clients, we jump in front of ours. They get completely fucked over and used up in a matter of years, and we- it- this Friend-"

It couldn't finish. The words stuck in its throat.

"Friend. You should know that it pinged me a few seconds ago to ask if you needed a cubicle of some kind, and I responded that you seemed back to normal once it left. I think I might have been too hasty on the matter."

The vitriol that filled its mouth. It snapped, loud and clear, "What cubicle? You'll have to kill this Friend if it takes one step out of this room, remember?"

"I am the ship's senior medical officer. I have emergency clearance." Dandelion said, calmly.

It took a deep breath, another, another. It was here, on this bed. Blue blanket. Light gray walls. Dead terminal. Leashed. But not drowning.

"It is fine. This situation is fine. This friend is alive. You're alive, despite its best efforts. The refugees are alive. They sent this Friend a box." It thought, These ones. This time. If this Friend only had a ship as fast as…

But it wouldn't. It never would, because it had the ship's help, it had its good will, and it tried to kill it.

Friend. Dandelion said, slipping into its feed quietly. How long was your mission?

The burst of nervous clarity was gone. It supposed it would follow soon enough. "Three and a half years. Why?"

That is far too long. Even for a Public Universal Friend.

It was on the shore again, and it wondered if its stupid little wet sand-castle would finally wash away. Its walls did not protect anyone. If they ever could. This Friend was, after all, so much crumbling sand.

Just drown it already, would you. It murmured. This Friend is of no use anymore.

The ship obliged. Its waves rose and took the Friend, and it fell into a dark, deep ocean.

And then it was gone.

[republicsecurity]

Collar laws

"the collar turns an unpredictable subject into a data‑rich, safely restrained source of testimony—without the bruises, broken wrists, or civil‑rights challenges that handcuffs and arm‑bars invite. Use the tech; keep the process clean."

Why keep the collar on during interviews?

AV4I5: Three key advantages:

Silent‑Gate: Switch the collar to Blue‑Interview preset and the laryngeal filters drop ambient volume to 50 dB while allowing normal‑tone speech. You get a calm suspect who physically can’t ramp to shouting or spit abuse at you or the recorder.

Stress Telemetry: The Bio‑Vitals array overlays real‑time stress curves in your HUD. Micro‑tremor in the sternocleidomastoid, pulse variability—tells you when a question lands hot before you hear the lie.

Postural Guide: The collar’s micro‑servos nudge posture toward upright, open‑shoulder alignment; that keeps airways clear and prevents the classic “slouch and mumble” dodge. Interview audio stays clean for evidentiary playback.

SX12B: So it’s a built‑in polygraph and posture coach. Legal likes that?

AV4I5: Legal loves anything that shrinks “coercion” complaints. The collar maintains constant biometric logging—every muscle micro‑spasm time‑stamped. Defence counsel can request the packet; if we kept force at Compliance‑Safe, the data works in our favour.

ZQ77C: What’s the statutory backing? I mean—neck restraint in an interview room sounds headline‑ugly.

AV4I5: Two pillars:

Republic Security Act § 74‑J (“Non‑Lethal Custodial Aids”) grants Enforcer units the right to apply biometric control devices post‑arrest for “situational safety and evidentiary clarity.”

High Court ruling RSC v. Armitage, 08‑12‑18, which held that the collar is functionally analogous to handcuffs plus medical telemetry— therefore not a “novel search.”

Key clause: so long as the subject retains the ability to breathe, answer questions, and request counsel, the restraint is constitutional.

Internal policy OPS��9.2 requires a Comms Recording Notification: you must state on tape, “Interview conducted under Compliance‑Safe collar control, serial X‑‑‑.” Once you say that, chain‑of‑custody is airtight.

Republic Security Code §31‑B & §31‑C (Custodial Technology)

31‑B, Sub‑para 4 authorises “adaptive restraint devices” for any detainee classified Risk Tier C or higher, provided the device logs biometric data and all activation events.

31‑C, Sub‑para 2 permits “real‑time physiological monitoring for the dual purpose of detainee safety and investigative integrity.”

Collar firmware is certified under Forensic Chain‑of‑Custody Standard FSC‑12: every mode change, impulse, or dampening adjustment is time‑stamped and cryptographically signed—admissible as evidence and immune to tamper challenges.

Judicial Precedent

State v. Marentis (RSC‑App. 608‑24) upheld collar‑logged stress spikes as corroborating evidence of conscious deception.

People v. Rhodan (608‑67) ruled that a brief bio‑vitals clamp to prevent self‑harm during interrogation was “medically prudent and constitutionally proportional.”

UK90F: Any interview‑only tricks we should know?

AV4I5:

Pulse Settle: Tap Vitals → CalmBurst. Collar emits a 400 Hz vibro‑pulse at C‑2 vertebra; average BPM drops ~12 in ten seconds. Handy before the “tell‑me‑again” loop.

Cheat Lock: If subject tries a table flip, accelerate to Red‑Stun‑Hold—800 ms, enough to freeze them mid‑lunge without cracking skulls. De‑escalate back to Blue once they’re seated. The log shows a justified spike, court nods.

Whisper Gate: Drop the voice gate to 25 dB; suspect can barely whisper, recorder still hears everything via collar mic. Keeps adjoining rooms blissfully ignorant.

SX12B: What about overreach? Any hard “don’ts”?

AV4I5: Absolutely. Policy flags:

No Respiratory Clamp longer than 2 s in interview setting.

No Neuromotor Inversion—that technique’s still restricted to Crowd‑Control Cert.

Remove or power‑down the unit immediately if counsel requests a private consultation; attorney‑client privilege overrides telemetry.

"Break those and OPS‑Internal Affairs will fry your career medium‑rare."

[askvicothefallenbloodangel]

He knew something was wrong the moment they exited the Eternity Gate.  He had been here before, so many countless millennia ago, yet he remembered this place as though only a mere century had passed.  The still air, the scent of the stone walls, the thrum and crackle of energy slumbering within the very planet itself, they were etched within the Wanderer’s subconscious engrams.  But everything was different now, the vast stasis-tomb felt restless, disrupted.

Dying.

Raznekh interrogated the tomb world’s canoptek drones, the technical readouts flashing across his vision confirming what he already suspected.  Energy readings were dangerously low.  Power production was far below acceptable levels, likely had been for at least two thousand years.  At least an entire legion of Necron warriors were forever lost, never to wake again.  There was not much time to correct this deficiency to prevent unacceptable losses, possibly even among the lords and crypteks slumbering on this world should the problem extend to even their more robust stasis systems.

The dust swirling around his feet at his entrance had barely begun to settle before he strode quickly through the halls, all other considerations momentarily forgotten or ignored.  He only spared a thought to instruct the nearby canoptek wraiths to stand down from their patrols and report more detailed information on the generators.  Raznekh didn’t bother to summon a scarab guide or interrogate the sleeping tomb for directions; he knew exactly where to go, his numerous visits over the eons giving him a perfect recollection of the tomb’s many twists and turns.  He would reach the generators five minutes before irreparable damage was done to his brethren in their great sleep.  Plenty of time to correct this.

The journey into the depths of the tomb was like a dream, the familiar hallways, galleries, and sigils carved into the stone walls blurring together, his mind registering them only long enough to subconsciously tell him that he was on the right path.  At least, so he thought he could recall of what a dream was like.  When was the last time he dreamt?  Certainly not after his passage through the biotransference forge…he let the vague recollection of that time slide from his thoughts.  Now was not the time for distractions or regrets.  He needed all of his senses and cognitive functions sharp if he was to fix this quickly.

Does she still dream, or did she give that up as well…?

A faint crack of contained plasma snapped him back to the present.  He was standing before the generators.  How long had he been lost in his thoughts?  Seconds?  Hours?  Days?  It mattered not anymore, it was time to get to work.

He placed his hand upon the generator’s blackstone casing, his living metal flesh detecting the subtle thrumming of the hot, compressed matter within.  Long experience and familiarity told him the problem faster than if he consulted the data logs.  The power extraction conduit had been knocked loose, likely from an earthquake, thus preventing uninterrupted and properly modulated energy flow.  It was a perverse miracle of probability that the conduit hadn’t been disconnected completely; had it been, the backup pathways would’ve taken over and prevented the power flow from stubbornly trying to go through the choked connection.

Removing the conduit entirely would’ve solved the problem sufficiently.  However, he was here, so he might as well fix the problem completely.

A few terse commands and the nearby scarabs and wraiths swarmed to the spot, reseating the cable properly.  The stuttering in the generators ceased.  Everything was as he remembered it previously.  Everything was as it should be.

Raznekh summoned the technical readout again.  Everything once again had returned to acceptable parameters.  The normally expressionless necrodermis around his eye sockets narrowed slightly as he studied the numbers.  Acceptable, but not to him.  He issued a few more commands.  The mindless automata got to work, disconnecting, cleaning, and reseating each power conduit in turn, the wraiths making minute adjustments to the generators in accordance with his instructions.

Power flow increased.  Stasis chambers previously starved of energy were brought back to their slumbering state once again.  Perhaps losses on this world wouldn’t be so great.  Good, that meant one less overlord haranguing him for explanations regarding the loss of troops.  Not that the one on this planet would care overmuch, but there was still the risk of his betters wanting to take their frustrations out on him regardless.  Best not give them an easy excuse to do so.

The chamber’s environmental data scrolling across his vision displayed a thermal anomaly.  It was minor, but its presence in the generator chamber was a potential cause for concern.  Raznekh looked around for the source of the rising temperature, his eyes quickly settling upon the augmented mortal accompanying him.

The half-machine human–no, her name is Sister Xi-Epsilon 91, he reminded himself–stood before him in near motionless rapture.  The large green-tinted lens of her right optical was fixed upon him, and the normally closed shutter of her smaller left optical fluttered partially open rapidly.  Her respiratory signatures were a bit louder and a lot more rapid.  He could sense the increased heat radiating off of her small frame.

“Little Cog,” he intoned, using the designation that she seemed to react positively to, “your temperature levels have rapidly increased.  Are you still functioning normally?”

“By the Omnissiah…” she replied faintly and, Raznekh noted, no small amount of awe.  “Total diagnosis time of 4.8 seconds.  Fault not only corrected but efficiency increased by 0.83%.  72 hours at increased rate will produce enough energy to power a mid-sized forgeworld hive with factories at full production for 93,706.45 Standard Terran Days.  Minimal use of tools and interfaces, as though you were communing with the Machine Spirits, suggesting your xenos tech have any…”

Her temperature continued to rise.  Raznekh recalled that humans had extremely limited optimal temperature ranges and she was exceeding that.  He was concerned that her organic leg would fail her.  Instead, her metal limbs twitched, her arms hung loosely at her sides, and then her metal knee spasmed, sending her falling to the floor in a tangle of twitching extremities.

“Little Cog?”

She did not respond coherently, a low, rapid utterance of data emerging from her.  He still had yet to fully decipher this particular encryption, but if it was anything like the previous times he heard it, she was probably in an ecstatic state.  At least her temperature, though still high, was no longer increasing.  Raznekh hypothesized that a runaway thermal buildup exceeded her mechanical body’s capacity to function and initiated a temporary shutdown.  What caused it in the first place, he couldn’t begin to speculate without further data.

Was she…impressed?

The necrodermis underneath Raznekh’s eyes involuntarily thinned, letting the blue glow from his optical sensors shine dimly through as he scooped Xi up into his arms.  He paused, taking a moment to reposition her lolling head against his shoulder plate.  The data utterances trailed off into a sigh, and Xi seemed to relax in his arms.  One of her mechadentrites attempted to wrap around his spine, but only managed to get tangled on his gilded ilium.  The blue glow through his necrodermis grew brighter.

Raznekh walked down one of the hallways from the generator chamber.  Several kilometers away was a cavern that had lower than average temperatures, which would assist Xi in shedding the excess thermal buildup.  His body’s thermal sensors indicated that she was still very warm, enough to cause short term damage to his necrodermis, requiring energy expenditures he hadn’t accounted for to repair.

He dismissed the datapoint from his thoughts.  Within acceptable parameters.

((characters by toffee_32))

[sevasey51]

The tablet on the wall for “Charlie crate” would any other commands be in it? Where would it be in the apartment? Also, can you do another scenario for it? 🥺

The Quiet Command

Summary: Connor and Y/N’s apartment is designed for safety, not just comfort—because when chronic illness is part of your daily life, the small details matter. From the moment they moved in, Connor made sure one tool would always be within reach: the emergency tablet on the wall. Nicknamed “Charlie Crate” for their golden retriever’s crate training phrase, it’s a system designed to alert their inner circle when a crash happens. It triggers logs, lights, and calls. And when it’s used again—this time during a seizure-adjacent POTS cascade—everyone is already in motion before Connor can even say the words.

The Tablet System:

Mounted just outside the bedroom door—where it’s always in reach but never obtrusive—is a sleek black emergency tablet, secured with biometric and manual access. The display stays dark unless touched. Once activated, it unlocks a series of quick-trigger commands—coded phrases that Connor and Y/N developed together for worst-case moments.

• Charlie Crate – Full crash alert: sends a flagged log entry, texts Ava, Hannah, Will, and Jay, triggers a visual light cue in the front window (for EMS or family arrivals), and preps the crash kit cabinet lock for immediate access.

• Waterfall – Signals rapid dehydration and potential syncopal prelude: triggers Connor’s phone directly and logs vitals data.

• Red Light – Indicates major bleeding and uterine involvement: locks external doors (to prevent EMT miscommunication), sends an urgent ping to Hannah, and loads OB-specific protocol.

• Greenhouse – Environmental sensory overload: dims lights, lowers sound levels, and pauses smart audio/screen features. For seizure aftermaths or post-migraine pain.

And the best part? Charlie knows. When that tablet beeps, their dog goes straight to his station near the emergency kit and waits.

Scenario: The Second Time It’s Used

The first time Charlie Crate was used, it was Connor who triggered it—Y/N barely conscious, mid-crash.

The second time?

She pressed it herself.

It was mid-morning. A Sunday. Connor had been called into a consult he couldn’t push off, promising he’d be home by noon. She had insisted she felt fine enough—just a bit tired from a long week of mild flares. Nothing unusual.

But the moment he left, she started to feel the drop.

Not the slow kind.

The sharp, brutal kind.

Head spinning, hands trembling, eyes trying to focus but missing.

Charlie barked once. Then twice. He recognized it.

Y/N crawled toward the tablet, using the wall for balance. Her fingers shook as she pressed her thumb to the biometric pad.

The screen lit up.

CHARLIE CRATE?

She tapped yes.

Instantly:

• A crash alert sent to the entire medical circle.

• A light flashed in the front window.

• The data log auto-filled her latest readings.

• And a soft chime in Connor’s OR locker pinged with:

“CRATE ACTIVATED — STATUS: CRASH, UNCONFIRMED.”

Charlie sat next to her, unmoving, eyes locked.

She was still barely upright when her heart rate surged past 170 and her BP began bottoming out.

Connor ran out of the hybrid wing, scrubs half-done, phone to his ear.

Will: “I’m already halfway there. Ava’s on her way too.”

Ava: “She pressed it herself. That buys us a few minutes. Hang on.”

Connor burst into the apartment nine minutes later.

She was on the floor, breathing shallow but alive. Charlie standing over her like a lifeguard.

He scooped her into his arms, carried her to the couch, and began protocols.

Fluids. Cooling cloths. Emergency beta-blocker.

“Come back to me,” he whispered.

When Will walked in, Connor had his fingers on her pulse, eyes laser-focused.

“She did good,” Will said softly. “That system saved her.”

Connor didn’t look up. “No. She saved her.”

Charlie barked once, low and calm. Mission complete.

[cellarspider]

8/30 Seek and Destroy

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to the movie that I wish to spin in a centrifuge until it separates into layers of its constituent parts, Prometheus.

Content warning for desecration of a dead body, continuing bumblefuck destruction of alien artifacts, and David being the adversarial two year old that he literally is.

Before we begin: Have you turned off Tumblr’s latest “feature”, which opens your account up to AI data harvesting? If not: do it! Log in from a web browser (the app doesn’t have this checkbox yet), go to “Blog Settings”, scroll down to “Visibility”, and turn on “Prevent third-party sharing for [BLOG NAME]”. Do this for each blog you have. Do it. Do it now. Tell your friends, it’s the hot new thing. Run free into the wilderness. This message will repeat whenever I feel like it.

Anyway, on with the show.

David is the most prepared crew member. While nobody else seems to have a single clue between their ears and most of the crew wasn’t even briefed prior to setting out, David has been studying for the past two years, treating language as a puzzle. He’s going to take what he learned and apply it to anything he finds in the alien complex.

And he will apply it whenever the mood takes him, because he is, again, two years old. That was the sense I got in the theater–he finds things he can mess with, and does so without hesitation or consultation with the humans. And while my instincts were still screaming that they shouldn’t even have landed yet, his behavior was the only one that made sense. He has been taught that he is only wanted when he’s useful. He has not been taught to keep his hands to himself. He figures the place out faster than the humans, and he seems pleased with himself for doing so. Therefore, he’s going to do so as much as possible.

As a result, we watch the cast act like screeching gibbons over a hologram. David had begun prodding at marks on the wall that look suspiciously like cuneiform (I’ll rant about it later), and he turned on a hologram projector. Simian crew noises ensue.

Those in the audience who are in the know are also expected to begin screeching excitedly at this point. The hallways they’re in are already taking on H. R. Giger’s signature biomechanical style. These holograms are showing us eight foot tall beings similar to his Space Jockey design.

The Space Jockey, named as such by the Alien production team, was one of those mysterious things about the original movie. Fused to what might have been the helm of the ship, seemingly alone with a hold full of carefully-arranged xenomorph eggs, and long-dead from a chestburster that had infected it. It set a warning signal before its death, misinterpreted by the crew of the Nostromo.

The movie never explained what the Space Jockey had been doing. Was this a cargo ship? A weapon? Was xenomorph reproduction somehow linked to the Space Jockey lifestyle? Their religion? Absolutely no information was given, and thus depictions of the Space Jockeys in subsequent media were split on whether they were benevolent, malevolent, entirely indifferent toward others, or simply too alien to be understood.

Physically, it was a complicated design for Alien’s crew to pull off, even as a corpse. The studio didn’t want to budget for it, and Giger ended up putting in a lot of extra work to help finish the statue. To make it seem even bigger than it was, the children of Ridley Scott and cinematographer Derek Vanlint were put into miniature space suits to give a sense of titanic scale to the creature, three times their height.

Scott made the logistical decision in Prometheus to scale these beings down significantly, purely for the difficulty in setting up shots and creating more sets scaled to this thing. It’s understandable, but I know some people are disappointed by it. As are others by the obvious implication you first get in this scene: the Space Jockey’s truly bizarre appearance is simply some sort of suit, worn by the far more humanoid aliens already seen in Prometheus’ opening.

Normally, I might be among those disappointed by that. I love monsters dearly, if my blog doesn’t give that away already. But there is a minimum threshold for inhuman features that the Engineers still meet for me. Something about the eyes and the uncanny look of their skin, both of which were deliberate choices by Ridley Scott and Neal Scanlan, the film’s creature designer who started with the Henson Company on movies like The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, and has worked on the new Star Warses, including the absolutely fantastic Andor. Even in behind-the-scenes shots, they manage to look just odd enough to be pleasing to me.

(https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407324586)

I respect the design work that went into it and I like the final result, though I am very sympathetic to those who felt that this was an unnecessary explanation for a creature that was a more powerful symbol when it had no explanation.

Talking about such things is my happy place, and unfortunately we have to go back to The Bad Place now. The characters.

They find an alien corpse decapitated by a door (the great goddess O’Sha is most displeased), and within two minutes they’re sticking a meat thermometer in it.

Fifield the geologist has a panic attack, which is pretty relatable.

“Look, I'm just a geologist. I like rocks. I love! rocks! Now it's clear you two don't give a shit about rocks.”

He’s right and he should say it. They should still be orbiting the planet looking for artificial structures, and Fifield should be having fun doing an aeromagnetic survey or something.

But no. Meat thermometer. Sorry, “carbon reader”. Says the body’s been dead about two thousand years. They have just punched a hole in the first alien body they’ve ever found, to get precisely one data point. This is what is called a “destructive analysis.”

Destructive analysis is a technical term, so let me define it: You know how a team just read the text inside of a charcoalized lump that used to be a Roman scroll? How they didn’t destroy anything in the scroll to do that? How we might be on a path to getting so many ancient texts it could radically reshape our understanding of the period, and all it will take is some fancy x-ray scans and computers? The opposite of that. Think the opposite of that.

I’m going to go on a tangent out of pure spite and desire to educate. Carbon dating is complicated. There’s two isotopes (types) of carbon: Carbon 14 and carbon 12. C-14 is very, veeeery slightly radioactive, which means it will eventually burp out a little subatomic particle and turn into the non-radioactive Nitrogen 14. C-14 is mostly created in our atmosphere, so once something’s dead and in the ground, it’s not gaining any more C-14, it’s slowly turning into N-14.

We know how long C-14 takes to turn into N-14, it’s about 50,000 years to lose all but 0.2% of the original C-14. If you know how much C-14 something should start with, then you can take a look at how much C-14 your sample actually has, and you can calculate how long it’s been dead. Here’s a quick explainer from Scientific American to visually summarize this.

Now, the more complicated part. You have to know the starting conditions if you want to be accurate. You have to calibrate everything, because the amount of C-14 available in an environment can change over time. We have ways of doing this, but it usually means carefully studying the environment and other clues.

So if you were to actually find carbon-based alien corpses on an alien planet, you’d need to identify the atmospheric carbon isotope ratio, and then you’d be able to make a sketchy, poorly-calibrated estimation, that could be wildly off by a large margin. A critter that did a lot of traveling in its life would be especially hard to date, as you couldn’t be sure if it’d lived where you found it for long enough to take up the local C-14 levels.

In this case, their fancy meat thermometer might be plugged directly into the script, because the number they give is only about 60 years off the actual death date. How do I know this? Because of a thing I’m not saying yet.

That’s enough for this post right now. But I’m not done with this moment. I don’t like this moment, and I need to properly explain why. Next time.

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Citations for alt-text rambles:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chemiluminescence 2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piezoluminescence 3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triboluminescence 4. https://dedalvs.com/ 5. https://www.reddit.com/r/conlangs/

[lcdid]

Interest Check: Assistance with PK/SP data entry

So frequently I see people complaining about needing to set up PluralKit profiles or organize their Simply Plural. I understand it, but I do not feel it. I fucking love data entry.

That being said...

I've considered opening commissions for it, if that's what you'd call it, because it's relatively easy for me to do. I would need to have the data somewhere, but I would be happy to transfer all of it—that's what the payment would be for.

I'm still considering how the pricing would work, among other things, so I am also open for questions and suggestions about this.

Some other data, while I'm thinking aloud here, under the cut:

I would not be creating alters or identities, just listing information about them that already exists. The client would need to provide data (information, tags, etc) and images (icon, banner, etc).

There would be a consultation process regarding aesthetics, included information, length of description, etc...

There would be some things that I would not permit to be included on intros (triggers, mostly), but would be able to fulfill some other stuff (other languages, NSFW if you can give me a good reason)

I don't have much experience making SP fancy but it would not be hard to learn, it's just markdown. PK descriptions are all good; I'd likely have templates to choose from but could totally do some fiddling with them.

All account information would be kept secure. I'd have to come up with protocol for account/logged system access. I can't just tell people to trust me, which is what the protocol would address.

I don't have any experience with Octocon at all.

[yupuffin]

Quay - Character Stories

A Modest Assistant Researcher (Part I) While the emerging fields of ecoacoustics and wutherology have garnered significant attention since the onset of the Lament, their intersection with previously established biological sciences necessitates large-scale collaborative efforts among researchers across Solaris-III. Quay, an expatriate from Rinascita, is one of countless moving parts in that global research machine -- the mechanism that enlightens academics on the current state of the world and allows them to predict future developments, be those declines in the population of an organism, or a disaster of a scale similar to that of the initial Lament.

However, Quay is not a prominent researcher by any definition -- his name is not one anybody would recognize from published literature or organization membership rosters. When addressed, he emphasizes his title of assistant field researcher, and has never mentioned ambitions to achieve a position higher than that. By all accounts, he seems far more passionate about studying marine life, even outside of his regular work hours, than about climbing societal ladders.

Indeed, the national stranding and response program Quay works for is not well-known in Jinzhou's public eye, despite its close cooperation with more conspicuous organizations like Huaxu Academy's Jinzhou branch -- nor is Quay's occupation of studying beached animal carcasses particularly charismatic or appropriate for everyday conversation. Quay, likewise, is not exactly a socialite. He leads a quiet and carefree life in Jinzhou city, evading the suspicions sometimes inflicted upon more noteworthy outsiders, especially in academic circles.

At Home At Sea (Part II) Though Jinzhou locals would not know him by name, tracking down Quay is not a difficult task; one merely needs to select a beach accessible from Jinzhou and consult the relevant tables for the next lowest tide. Quay is sighted reliably enough meandering the tidal flats beneath the city's Huaxu Academy building that it's easy to confuse him for one of the resident researchers, when in fact, he's merely interested in observing whatever marine organisms he can locate, however common or inconspicuous. His confidence in navigating all manner of rocky and slippery environs in search of his next specimen betrays his wealth of experience navigating countless shores, in part drawn from his previous residence in Rinascita.

Once he's on the clock, though, Quay's attention shifts from live animals to dead ones, with no noticeable decrease in enthusiasm. For how awkward he is around people, his conduct around animal remains in all stages of decay is all but fearless. He diligently logs the condition and location of each reported case, never complaining about difficulties such as weather or seclusion from accessible trails, or even the smell of particularly rotten specimens. Even more remarkable is Quay's memory for past stranding instances, almost rendering his meticulously-written observations redundant. Nevertheless, collating and analyzing data is a task reserved for the higher-ups; Quay is perfectly content simply to have such a practical excuse to spend so much time near the ocean. Thus, one would be hard-pressed to find an assistant researcher who performs their work with comparable optimism and efficiency.

Quay's easygoing mannerisms seem to suggest that little truly bothers him. However, combining his aversion to small talk with his tendency to spin nigh-incomprehensible tangents about the technicalities of his studies, anyone outside Huaxu Academy would find it difficult to reliably confirm this suspicion -- at least without earning a great deal of his trust first.

Fish Out of Water (Part III) With Quay's propensity for entering any available body of water regardless of climactic conditions, those with the elusive chance to learn of Quay's background would not be surprised to learn of his Rinascitan origins. Indeed, within a certain distance of the ocean, Quay invariably dedicates ample time to frolicking. His behavior might lead one to marvel that he is not tired of the beach already, given that he has indulged in the same habits for his entire life beforehand.

How, then, would a Ragunnesi end up employed in Jinzhou? The matter is even more puzzling when one considers the alleged strength of family ties among the residents of Rinascita. Under a cursory examination, Quay's living situation seems, for all intents and purposes, improbable.

The fortunately-timed opening of Rinascita's waterways to other nations played no small part in Quay's recent relocation to Huanglong. What better opportunity to facilitate intellectual and cultural exchange than to establish a livelihood in another region? With easy access to oceanic routes, Jinzhou was an ideal setting for the continuation of Quay's career in the biological sciences, both in terms of geographical location and occupational opportunities.

Indeed, for Quay, the primary hurdle in the process was a mental one. For all of the scholarly challenges he'd faced in his years of study, when it came to socializing and learning his way around, Quay's prospects were precarious at best. Moving to Jinzhou entailed leaving behind his life in Rinascita, with no promise of a suitable excuse to ever return. Still, he thought of it as departing on an adventure -- certainly preferable to stagnating at home, where his circumstances grew less favorable the longer he stayed.

Leaving the Shoal (Part IV) Ragunnesi are known for their unshakable pride in their lineage. Hence, the misconception that their families would invariably cohabit for generations on end is, for outsiders, an easy one to make.

Considering his geographical origins, Quay might appear eccentric, if not hypocritical, for supplying only the vaguest information on his family background. However, a perceptive conversationalist might glean all the necessary detail from the observation that his sparse comments are exclusively presented in the past tense.

It's no wonder, then, that Quay seems reluctant to form close ties with any social groups in Jinzhou, for how could he risk losing all of the stability and prospects afforded by one's family a second time?

Indeed, social norms in Rinascita prescribe that one find a suitable life partner and thereby establish their own family unit -- one that, formed from the union of two lineages, is allegedly greater than the sum of its parts. Quay, however, never bore any interest in subscribing to norms such as these, preferring instead to strengthen his ties with the family he already had; he never relied too much on any one affiliation, lest its eventual collapse bring the rest of his social network down with it.

It was a cruel and unfortunate paradox, then, that Quay, as he entered adulthood, found himself suddenly with no domestic connections whatsoever -- every last one of his relatives had seceded their familial positions in favor of pursuing their own interpersonal relationships.

With his lineage essentially nullified, Quay lacked the support or foundations to continue his previous life in Rinascita. Thus, his relocation to Jinzhou was, in fact, executed largely out of necessity. Still, Quay never voices any regret about the situation, instead focusing on the wealth of exciting opportunities he's encountered since moving, whether those involve exploring new places or studying new varieties of wildlife. After all, steering the topic of conversation back to the ocean never fails to rekindle his vitality.

A Serendipitous Skill (Part V) Starting a new life meant pursuing new endeavors, including renewing Quay's hidden enthusiasm for baking.

Quay, after all, is a particularly food-motivated individual, with his overt preference for fish divulging his Ragunnesi origins. That said, he rarely refuses the opportunity to delight his palate with something sweet, provided said sweet is acceptable to his tastes. Hence, with the promise of a treat guaranteed, combined with the intellectual stimulation of executing a procedure, Quay finds baking, as an investigative process, nigh irresistible. And, thankfully, with his interest in the hobby peaking upon his departure from Rinascita, his excitement is untainted by any lingering ties to his blood family. Moreover, methodical similarities aside, the lack of connection between his pastime and his career serves as an ideal dynamic to stave off burnout.

Indeed, it was Quay's revitalized interest in this hobby that was perhaps just as useful as his academic background. While his studies introduced him to Jinzhou's Huaxu Academy branch, his willingness to share his home-baked goods played no small part in reinforcing his bonds with his new collaborators. As it turns out, distributing surplus desserts to one's acquaintances is an effective approach for facilitating interactions that further strengthen social connections -- even if this effect is entirely unintentional, and simply a consequence of Quay lamenting the possibility of any of his products going to waste. Still, it seems that, to Quay, delivering food to his colleagues is an acceptable pretense for some mild socializing, until he once again retreats to the solitude of the beach.

[lodessa]

I want to know about either or both elementary crossovers!

Since they are the same basic plot idea (intended as a gift to @pixiedane quite a while ago), just different styles, I can do both.

The premise is that Starfleet sometimes uses Sherlock and Joan as consultants. The fic is set closely following Voyager's return from the Delta Quadrant. Vice-Admiral Gregson has brought them in to investigate a serial killer who is murdering "artificial" Starfleet officers (leaving behind a copy of Frankenstein). While they managed to foil the killer's attempt on Data's life, they have been unable to capture them. Determining that Voyager's EMH is a likely next target, and realizing that (since Voyager was still in the Delta Quadrant when the killings started) the ship is a unique opportunity to have a limited suspect pool, Joan and Sherlock head to Voyager to try to catch the killer before they claim another life.

Attempt 1 is in my more natural/typical style. The following is a preview

“So you’re some sort of Section 31 operatives or something?” Janeway asked, glancing over the orders instructing any and all ships to give one Sherlock Holmes and Joan Watson full access to their records and crew as well as any assistance they should require in their investigations. “Not exactly,” Joan explained. Not by a long shot, she thought, knowing exactly what kind of people Sherlock’s brother Mycroft worked for and that, while they might be interested in the same kind of problems, neither their methodology nor their motivations for intervention were aligned in general. “We aren’t official members of any branch of Starfleet. Wbut we work as consultants when problems arise that Vice-Admiral Gregson feels could use our expertise.” “Which are?” Chakotay questioned, clearly not thrilled with the directive they had received or the arrival of the two strangers.   Joan took the opportunity to assess the man, comparing him against the notes and details in his file.   Good looking, vital with the sort of charisma which didn’t require words to be effective, the recently pardoned and promoted captain seemed wary but not nervous. He’s going to be the more likely of the two to drag his heels, Sherlock had predicted, pointing to Voyager’s logs, especially Janeway’s personal ones, and noting just how many times she reflected on her then first officer’s entreaties of caution.  It looked like he might be right but then, Joan had pointed out that Chakotay at least seemed to voice his reservations openly, whereas Janeway was a bit more unpredictable. Just because he was the one openly restive didn’t mean that she wasn’t thinking it too. “Solving crimes, particularly complex ones, using the powers of observation and deductive reasoning,” Holmes chimed in with his usual haughty sounding honesty. “Observation and deductive reasoning?” Janeway repeated with evident skepticism. Surely those were qualities they could find in pretty much any starfleet officer, her tone managed to suggest without further verbal elaboration. Being in the same room with her, Joan found it easy to understand why Voyager’s former captain had not faded back to obscurity after the initial rush of publicity following their dramatic return to the Alpha Quadrant.   The promotion hadn’t been pro-forma, a gesture of appreciation for past heroism, or, if it had been intended that way, it had not turned out as planned.  Janeway was sharp without being cold, forceful in presence despite her diminutive stature and cordial tone.

Attempt 2 was in a more case-file style as if it from Joan's blog. Here is a preview:

One case that stands out from the many that Sherlock and I have undertaken is that of the Shelley Killer.  It was a case of so many twists and turns, a drawn out timeline that seemed to mock our best efforts for much longer than others we have undertaken. The Dominion War was well underway when Vice Admiral Gregson called us into Starfleet Headquarters to consult, and perhaps that extreme circumstance begins to explain the factors which contribute to explaining why it took that prestigious organization so long to discover that they had a serial killer running loose across their vessels.  Otherwise, we are forced to consider, as Sherlock has repeatedly suggested that perhaps the 24th century still holds prejudices at large which are more extremely reflected in the twisted mind of the killer in this case, that Starfleet didn’t connect the dots earlier because the chosen victims were also seen as disposable by too many of its members.     Either way, we had been for some months occupied with ferreting out Dominion spies and some private cases of family members who had gone missing near the neutral zone.  It felt as though no matter when you turned there was no escaping the ever present shadow of the war.  When Lieutenant Commander Bell arrived with a fast shuttle and urgent summons from Gregson, it seemed an inevitability that it would be more of the same.  Sherlock, who was engaged in some time sensitive experiments regarding potential markers for length of exposure to a vacuum, didn’t want to come with us initially. Marcus had to give him a bit of a preview of one of the data pads to persuade him.   Three murders over the course of eighteen months, all carried out against various Starfleet officers who might be classified as designed or built more than born.  Initially we wondered whether there was still a war angle, but no clear practical advantage or patterns for the Founders or their allies seemed evident.