#Workplace Ethics in Engineering

[mkcecollege]

At M.Kumarasamy College of Engineering (MKCE), we emphasize the significance of engineering ethics in shaping responsible engineers. Engineering ethics guide decision-making, foster professionalism, and ensure societal welfare. Our curriculum integrates these principles, teaching students to consider the long-term impacts of their work. Students are trained in truthfulness, transparency, and ethical communication, while also prioritizing public safety and environmental sustainability. We focus on risk management and encourage innovation in sustainable technologies. Our programs also address contemporary challenges like artificial intelligence and cybersecurity, preparing students to tackle these with ethical responsibility. MKCE nurtures future engineers who lead with integrity and contribute to society’s well-being.

To know more : https://mkce.ac.in/blog/engineering-ethics-and-navigating-the-challenges-of-modern-technologies/

[mariacallous]

Before Duolingo wiped its videos from TikTok and Instagram in mid-May, social media engagement was one of the language-learning app’s most recognizable qualities. Its green owl mascot had gone viral multiple times and was well known to younger users—a success story other marketers envied.

But, when news got out that Duolingo was making the switch to become an “AI-first” company, planning to replace contractors who work on tasks generative AI could automate, public perception of the brand soured.

Young people started posting on social media about how they were outraged at Duolingo as they performatively deleted the app—even if it meant losing the precious streak awards they earned through continued, daily usage. The comments on Duolingo’s TikTok posts in the days after the announcement were filled with rage, primarily focused on a single aspect: workers being replaced with automation.

The negative response online is indicative of a larger trend: Right now, though a growing number of Americans use ChatGPT, many people are sick of AI’s encroachment into their lives and are ready to fight back.

When reached for comment, Duolingo spokesperson Sam Dalsimer stressed that “AI isn’t replacing our staff” and said all AI-generated content on the platform would be created “under the direction and guidance of our learning experts.” The company's plan is still to reduce its use of non-staff contractors for tasks that can be automated using generative AI.

Duolingo’s embrace of workplace automation is part of a broad shift within the tech industry. Leaders at Klarna, a buy now, pay later service, and Salesforce, a software company, have also made sweeping statements about AI reducing the need for new hires in roles like customer service and engineering. These decisions were being made at the same time as developers sold “agents,” which are designed to automate software tasks, as a way to reduce the amount of workers needed to complete certain tasks.

Still, the potential threat of bosses attempting to replace human workers with AI agents is just one of many compounding reasons people are critical of generative AI. Add that to the error-ridden outputs, the environmental damage, the potential mental health impacts for users, and the concerns about copyright violations when AI tools are trained on existing works.

Many people were initially in awe of ChatGPT and other generative AI tools when they first arrived in late 2022. You could make a cartoon of a duck riding a motorcycle! But soon artists started speaking out, noting that their visual and textual works were being scraped to train these systems. The pushback from the creative community ramped up during the 2023 Hollywood writer's strike, and continued to accelerate through the current wave of copyright lawsuits brought by publishers, creatives, and Hollywood studios.

Right now, the general vibe aligns even more with the side of impacted workers. “I think there is a new sort of ambient animosity towards the AI systems,” says Brian Merchant, former WIRED contributor and author of Blood in the Machine, a book about the Luddites rebelling against worker-replacing technology. “AI companies have speedrun the Silicon Valley trajectory.”

Before ChatGPT’s release, around 38 percent of US adults were more concerned than excited about increased AI usage in daily life, according to the Pew Research Center. The number shot up to 52 percent by late 2023, as the public reacted to the speedy spread of generative AI. The level of concern has hovered around that same threshold ever since.

Ethical AI researchers have long warned about the potential negative impacts of this technology. The amplification of harmful stereotypes, increased environmental pollution, and potential displacement of workers are all widely researched and reported. These concerns were often previously reserved to academic discourse and online leftists paying attention to labor issues.

As AI outputs continued to proliferate, so did the cutting jokes. Alex Hanna, coauthor of The AI Con and director of research at the Distributed AI Research Institute, mentions how people have been “trolling” in the comment sections of YouTube Shorts and Instagram Reels whenever they see AI-generated content in their feeds. “I've seen this on the web for a while,” she says.

This generalized animosity towards AI has not abated over time. Rather, it’s metastasized. LinkedIn users have complained about being constantly prompted with AI-generated questions. Spotify listeners have been frustrated to hear AI-generated podcasts recapping their top-listened songs. Reddit posters have been upset to see AI-generated images on their microwavable noodles at the grocery store.

Tensions are so high that even the suspicion of AI usage is now enough to draw criticism. I wouldn’t be surprised if social media users screenshotted the em dashes in this piece—a supposed giveaway of AI-generated text outputs—and cast suspicions about whether I used a chatbot to spin up sections of the article.

A few days after I first contacted Duolingo for comment, the company hid all of its social media videos on TikTok and Instagram. But, soon the green owl was back online with a satirical post about conspiracy theories. “I’ve had it with the CEOs and those in power. It’s time we show them who’s in charge,” said a person wearing a three-eyed Duolingo mask. The video uploaded right afterwards was a direct message from the company’s CEO attempting to explain how humans would still be working at Duolingo, but AI could help them produce more language learning courses.

While the videos got millions of views on TikTok, the top comments continued to criticize Duolingo for AI-enabled automation: “Keep in mind they are still using AI for their lessons, this doesn’t change anything.”

This frustration over AI’s steady creep has breached the container of social media and started manifesting more in the real world. Parents I talk to are concerned about AI use impacting their child’s mental health. Couples are worried about chatbot addictions driving a wedge in their relationships. Rural communities are incensed that the newly built data centers required to power these AI tools are kept humming by generators that burn fossil fuels, polluting their air, water, and soil. As a whole, the benefits of AI seem esoteric and underwhelming while the harms feel transformative and immediate.

Unlike the dawn of the internet where democratized access to information empowered everyday people in unique, surprising ways, the generative AI era has been defined by half-baked software releases and threats of AI replacing human workers, especially for recent college graduates looking to find entry-level work.

“Our innovation ecosystem in the 20th century was about making opportunities for human flourishing more accessible,” says Shannon Vallor, a technology philosopher at the Edinburgh Futures Institute and author of The AI Mirror, a book about reclaiming human agency from algorithms. “Now, we have an era of innovation where the greatest opportunities the technology creates are for those already enjoying a disproportionate share of strengths and resources.”

Not only are the rich getting richer during the AI era, but many of the technology’s harms are falling on people of color and other marginalized communities. “Data centers are being located in these really poor areas that tend to be more heavily Black and brown,” Hanna says. She points out how locals have not just been fighting back online, but have also been organizing even more in-person to protect their communities from environmental pollution. We saw this in Memphis, Tennessee, recently, where Elon Musk’s artificial intelligence company xAI is building a large data center with over 30 methane-gas-powered generators that are spewing harmful exhaust.

The impacts of generative AI on the workforce are another core issue that critics are organizing around. “Workers are more intuitive than a lot of the pundit class gives them credit for,” says Merchant. “They know this has been a naked attempt to get rid of people.” The next major shift in public opinion will likely follow previous patterns, occurring when broad swaths of workers feel further threatened and organize in response. And this time, the in-person protests may be just as big as the online backlash.

[alastorssimp]

Under the hood

Eddie munson x steve harrington x y/n reader

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS:

🔞 Explicit sexual content / Smut / NSFW

💔 Infidelity / Cheating (Eddie is in a relationship)

🛠️ Mechanic shop setting / Workplace sex

👄 Oral sex (including under-the-desk BJs with customers nearby)

🔧 Semi-public sex / Risk of being caught

👨‍🔧👨‍🔧👩 Threesome (M/M/F)

🫢 Secret relationships / Lying / Deception

🫦 Degradation, praise kink, dirty talk

🤬 Language / Crude dialogue

🧠 Dubious morals / Questionable ethics

🚫 No condom / Unsafe sex

🥵 Rough sex, manhandling, slight possessiveness

🧨 plot with lots of filth

🔥 3k words of filth so potent it voids your HR policy

(Divider curtesy of @thecutestgrotto 🥰)

It always started the same way.

A lull in the grind of the day. The clang of a wrench hitting the floor. The buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead. Customers gone, workers on lunch, phones quiet. The air in the garage hung heavy with heat, the smell of oil, and the unspoken tension between Y/N and Eddie Munson.

Y/N had only been working at the shop for a year. Hired on the spot when Eddie’s uncle Wayne mentioned they needed help with paperwork and someone who could organize the chaos the guys left in their wake. She’d been quiet at first—sweet and polite, with long red hair she kept twisted up in a clip, her curves barely hidden beneath the mechanic-branded polo shirts and tight black pants.

But Eddie had noticed. Oh, he noticed.

She was younger, sharp-tongued when she got comfortable, and when she leaned over the counter to ask if he wanted a soda? His brain short-circuited. The flirtation was playful at first, innocent enough. Harmless.

Until that day in September. Rain pounding outside. The two of them alone. Eddie leaned over the hood of a Charger he’d been elbow-deep in for hours, and Y/N wandered in with a clipboard. She cracked a joke. He smirked. And then she said, "You missed a spot."

When he asked where, she pointed to his cheek. Then wiped at it with her thumb.

The kiss that followed was messy. Desperate. His hands gripped her hips like he’d die if he let go. She pulled him by his collar into the bathroom in the back, locked the door, and for the next eleven minutes, they forgot who they were supposed to be.

And that was the beginning.

Now? It was practically routine. If business was slow, you could bet Y/N was pinned between Eddie and the wall of the employee bathroom. Or bent over his workbench, engine diagrams sliding to the floor beneath her. Sometimes, if the mood struck, he’d lift her onto the hood of whatever car he was fixing—tools forgotten, her fingers white-knuckling the edge of metal while he left fingerprints on her hips.

They didn’t talk about what it meant. Or how it felt. Or the fact that Eddie had a girlfriend.

Heather. Blonde. Preppy. Sweet, in a way Y/N could never be. She brought muffins for the boys on Fridays and kissed Eddie’s cheek when she picked him up in her little white Civic. She had no idea. Not really.

But Heather wasn’t stupid.

Twice now, she’d walked into the shop unannounced. Once just as Eddie was zipping up his pants behind the office door. Y/N had her shirt half undone, her lips flushed. She spun toward the file cabinet and muttered something about inventory while Eddie called out “Hey, babe” like nothing was wrong.

The second time, Heather had walked in just as Eddie finished pressing Y/N’s thighs apart over his toolbox bench. Y/N heard the jingle of the bell, shoved him back, and dropped behind the desk with a frantic whisper of “Fix your pants, Munson!”

Heather had blinked. Tilted her head.

“Was someone else in here?”

“Nah,” Eddie lied smoothly, wiping sweat from his brow. “Just me and the radio.”

Still. It couldn’t last forever. Y/N knew that.

She hated how her heart skipped when Eddie looked at her like she was the only girl alive. How he whispered things like, “You feel better than any girl I’ve ever had,” while pulling her panties down behind the garage door. How sometimes, after he came, he’d rest his forehead to hers and breathe like she was the only oxygen he had left.

But he always left. Got in Heather’s car. Smiled like a boyfriend should.

And Y/N was left with grease-smudged thighs, a clipboard in hand, and a growing ache in her chest she didn’t dare name.

Until the day came when the ache got too loud.

Heather arrived again, this time with cupcakes. She smiled at Y/N—genuinely. Called her “hon” and offered her one with sprinkles. Y/N’s stomach turned.

She turned back to the desk, gripping the edge, while Heather wrapped her arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I was thinking maybe we could move in together,” Heather said softly. “I found a place.”

Y/N froze.

Eddie didn’t answer right away. He glanced at Y/N. Just a flick of his eyes. Fast. But she caught it.

“I... we’ll talk about it,” he mumbled.

And Y/N knew then—knew—that she was losing him.

That night, when the shop was quiet and Heather had gone, Eddie found Y/N in the back room. She was leaning against the file cabinet, arms crossed, hair wild from humidity.

“You gonna say it?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him.

“Say what?”

“That I’m a piece of shit.”

She shrugged.

“You are. But that’s not news, Munson.”

He stepped closer. Hands in his pockets.

“Don’t want to hurt you, Red.”

She scoffed.

"Too late for that.”

They didn’t sleep together that night. Didn’t even kiss.

But the next day? The tension was worse than ever. And when Eddie yanked her behind the stack of tires during lunch break and kissed her like he was starving—Y/N didn’t stop him.

She knew she was playing with fire. She just couldn’t bring herself to put it out.

It was a slow Thursday. The kind of day where time moved thick and sticky like molasses, and the fans spinning above couldn’t cut the heat in the air—or the tension.

Eddie had been watching her all morning. Watching the way Y/N’s hips swayed as she restocked oil filters. How she licked cupcake frosting off her thumb without realizing he was watching. She wore that same tight little pencil skirt she knew drove him nuts, and he? Oh, he was already sporting grease on his jaw and a familiar ache in his jeans.

So when the others left for lunch, and the shop fell quiet?

Eddie didn’t even bother with pretense.

He tugged her into the garage—hands under her skirt before the door even shut behind them. Y/N was laughing, trying to scold him, but she never really meant it.

Not when his fingers were already slipping into her underwear.

He pushed her back onto the hood of a half-fixed Firebird, the metal warm beneath her thighs. Her shirt was halfway undone, bra pulled down, skirt hiked up around her waist. Eddie leaned over her, one hand gripping her hip, the other fisted in her hair.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, rocking his hips into her.

“You���oh.. fuck—only you, Munson,” she gasped, nails dragging down his back.

And then—

CLANG.

The back door slammed.

“Yo, Eddie, you left the keys to the van in—WHAT THE FUCK?!”

They both froze.

Steve Harrington stood in the doorway, wearing sunglasses, almost dropping his coffee, and staring at the very naked truth unfolding on the hood of a Firebird.

Y/N squeaked, scrambling to pull her shirt shut. Eddie? He just turned his head, blinked at Steve, and grinned.

“Hey man,” Eddie said, totally unfazed. “You wanna join or just watch?”

“What the fuck—” Steve repeated, voice cracking.

Y/N let out a strangled noise—half shock, half a why-is-he-like-this whimper—while Eddie casually adjusted himself, leaning on the car like he wasn’t mid-thrust two seconds ago.

“Eddie!” Y/N hissed, smacking his shoulder.

“What?” he shrugged. “Stevie's cool. He looks like he’s into it. Look at him. Mouth open. Coffee shaking. That’s not a no.”

Steve blinked. “I—I came for keys! Not a damn porno!”

“You sure?” Eddie teased, licking his thumb and dragging it slowly down Y/N’s stomach, just to make Steve flinch. “’Cause we could always use an extra set of hands...”

Steve made a strangled noise and turned on his heel so fast he nearly knocked over the mop bucket.

“I hate it here. I’m going to church.”

The door slammed behind him.

Silence.

Then She slapped Eddie’s chest, breathless and red-faced. “You idiot!”

“You liked it,” he said smugly.

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” she snapped back, cheeks burning.

Eddie just smirked and kissed her hard.

“Next time, I’m locking the damn door.”

She huffed, but pulled him back down by the collar anyway

Steve’s POV

Steve Harrington had come to the auto shop for one reason.

One. Reason.

Grab the goddamn keys Eddie left in the back of his van. That was it. In and out. No drama. Maybe he’d swing by Scoops for a free cone on the way out, flirt with the girl at the counter, feel like he still had it after his most recent dating disaster—a yoga instructor who ghosted him mid-downward dog.

Easy. Breezy. Low-effort day.

Except no one told him he was walking into Eddie Munson’s Grease Lightning XXX Edition.

The second he stepped inside and rounded the corner—he saw it.

Y/N. Gorgeous, red-haired secretary Y/N, bent backwards over the hood of a Firebird, shirt undone, skirt around her waist.

And Eddie. That smug, curly-haired bastard? Balls deep and smirking like he was filming a scene for a VHS tape called Backdoor Body Shop.

Steve almost dropped his coffee. “Yo, Eddie, you left the keys to the van in—WHAT THE FUCK?!”

And then—and then—Eddie had the audacity to ask if he wanted to join. Like they were ordering pizza. Like this was casual.

Steve spun on his heel and practically bolted out the door.

His heart was racing. His face was on fire. His brain was running like a Windows 95 dial-up modem with a virus. And below the belt?

Yeah. Awkward boner city.

He made it three steps toward his car. Three. Before he stopped. Dead in his tracks.

His hands were shaking.

His pulse was thudding.

And that image—Y/N gasping, Eddie gripping her hips, the sound she made—it was seared into his damn skull like a branding iron.

Steve stared at the keys on the pavement.

He’d had a really bad streak with women lately. Like, “rom-com protagonist who gets rejected at the altar” level bad. He was tired. He was horny. And clearly, the universe had handed him a front-row seat to something… fun.

And Eddie had offered. Casually. Like it wouldn’t even be weird.

Steve looked over his shoulder at the door. Then up at the sky.

“…fuck it.”

He turned around and walked right back inside.

---

Eddie had Y/N on the hood again, shirt half-open, his hands under her skirt when the door creaked open.

“...Steve?” She blinked and tried To move

Eddie looked over his shoulder, eyebrows up, cheeks flushed. “Thought you ran off to confess your sins.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Thought about it.”

“Changed your mind?”

“I mean…” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “...you did say you needed a third set of hands.”

Eddie’s grin went feral.

“Ohh, Harrington. We’re gonna ruin you.”

Her jaw dropped—but her thighs instinctively squeezed together.

Steve stepped forward slowly, hands trembling just slightly as he reached for his belt. “Go easy on me.”

Eddie turned back to Y/N, voice low.

“You okay with this, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip. Her eyes flicked between them—and lord help her, the idea of both of them, hands and mouths and that slow, sexy smirk Steve had… it sent shivers everywhere.

She nodded. “Yeah. Let’s wreck him.”Three’s a Crowd, But Who’s Complaining?”

Steve couldn’t quite believe where he was standing.

One second he was dropping his damn coffee and running like a flustered virgin, the next… he had Y/N—Y/N!—on her knees in front of him, red hair wild, mascara already smudged, and lips stretched wide around his cock.

“Jesus Christ—” he choked, gripping the edge of the hood behind him.

Eddie leaned beside him, arms folded, watching like a man at a drive-in—except this show was way better than popcorn and car chases.

“Fuck, look at you, Harrington,” Eddie purred, licking his lips. “Didn’t know you were packin’ like that. No wonder you walk around like you’ve got back problems.”

Steve couldn’t answer. He was too busy trying to keep his soul in his body while y/N gagged prettily around his length, tears beading at the corners of her eyes—but she didn’t stop. No, she took it, pushing deeper, letting out soft, sinful little moans like she loved choking on it.

Eddie crouched down beside her, one hand stroking her hair, voice low and teasing.

“Good girl, huh? You like showing off for him?”

Y/N nodded with his cock still in her mouth, humming just to feel Steve twitch.

“She’s fuckin’ filthy, man,” Eddie kept going, grinning as he watched her hands fist in Steve’s shirt. “Loves being watched. Loves being full. Loves messy. You’re gonna ruin her makeup, Stevie.”

Y/N gave a particularly loud slurp, and Steve whimpered. He had never whimpered before in his life, and yet—here we were.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, one hand moving to Y/N’s hair before pausing, unsure.

Eddie noticed. “You can touch her, Steve. She likes it rough. She’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

With Eddie’s encouragement ringing in his ears, Steve threaded his fingers into her red hair and guided her, hips stuttering as he accidentally hit the back of her throat.

“F-fuck, sorry—”

She moaned in response, eyes fluttering closed, and Eddie laughed.

“She’s sorry you stopped,” he muttered, palming himself lazily through his jeans. “Isn’t that right, Red?”

She pulled off with a wet gasp, a trail of spit connecting her lips to Steve’s cock, her eyes shining.

“Don’t be gentle,” she whispered. “I can take it.”

Steve blinked like he’d been slapped. “Oh my God.”

Eddie smirked and stood up, hand coming to wrap around Steve’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the dark side, Harrington. We spit, we bite, and no one’s pants survive.”

Steve was too far gone to care. She had already taken him in again, bobbing her head with purpose while Eddie reached down to spread her ass, teasing the slick mess gathering between her thighs.

“Once she’s nice and soaked,” Eddie murmured, voice filthy in Steve’s ear, “you’re gonna bend her over this car, and we’re gonna share.”

Steve let out a broken sound somewhere between a moan and a prayer.

Y/N gagged again. And again.

And still kept going.

And Steve?

He was starting to think coming for keys might’ve been the best decision of his

She barely had time to catch her breath before Eddie had her up on her feet and bent over the hood of the car. The metal was warm under her skin, but not as hot as her flushed cheeks or the dripping heat between her thighs.

“Hands flat, baby,” Eddie murmured, guiding her down. “Show Stevie how pretty you arch that back.”

Steve stood frozen for a second, flushed red from chest to hairline. “She’s… fuck, she’s dripping.”

Eddie grinned. “Told you she likes being watched.”

She moaned when she felt Eddie’s fingers tease between her legs, spreading her open. “So wet already,” he muttered, tongue practically hanging out as he looked back at Steve. “You ever see something this perfect and just wanna wreck it?”

Steve stepped closer. His cock twitched, still slick with spit, and when he brushed it against her lips again—Y/N whimpered.

“Let me taste you again,” she begged, voice ragged and desperate.

Eddie’s grin turned feral. “You heard her, golden boy. Feed it to her.”

Steve didn't need more convincing. He pushed past her lips, his hand in her hair again, more confident now—thrusting slow and deep while Eddie knelt behind her and dragged his tongue through her folds like a man starved.

Y/N gasped around Steve’s cock as Eddie moaned against her, tongue curling and flicking in ways that made her legs shake. The sensation of both of them—one in her mouth, one on her pussy—was overwhelming.

“Fuck, she’s clenching,” Eddie mumbled, breath hot against her. “She’s close, Stevie. Feel her moaning around you?”

Steve groaned, fingers tightening. “She’s—Jesus Christ—she’s gagging on me while she’s coming.”

Eddie didn’t stop. He licked her through it, two fingers curling inside her as she trembled, sobbing around Steve’s cock with messy tears streaming down her cheeks.

When she finally pulled back, panting, lips swollen and slick, she looked up at them both with that wicked, satisfied smile.

“Switch.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

“I want Steve inside,” she said, voice rough. “I want you in my mouth while he fucks me.”

Eddie practically growled. “Yes ma’am.”

They moved like predators with a shared kill—Y/N guided back onto the hood, ass up, Eddie sliding in front of her as Steve lined up behind.

The second Steve pushed inside—slow and thick and fucking deep—She cried out and nearly collapsed. He was big, stretching her so perfectly she forgot how to breathe.

“F-fuck—Steve—”

“She tight?” Eddie rasped, watching her eyes roll back.

“So tight,” Steve gritted out, hips rocking into her with shaky control.

Eddie leaned in, feeding her his cock slowly, one hand on the back of her head.

“There’s my girl,” he cooed, voice low and dirty. “Stuffed at both ends, just how you like it.”

Y/N couldn’t answer. Her mouth was full. Her body was full. Her mind? Gone. Absolutely obliterated.

They found a rhythm, Steve pounding into her from behind while Eddie fucked her mouth slow and deep, watching her take it all. Filthy praise passed between them—Eddie calling her his favorite toy, Steve whispering how beautiful she looked all fucked out.

And when she came again—tightening, shaking, moaning around Eddie’s cock?

They both followed. Steve buried deep with a strangled groan. Eddie gripped her hair and spilled across her tongue.

Silence hit like a dropped wrench.

Heavy breathing. Sweat-slicked skin. Y/N still bent over, boneless, between the two of them.

“Holy shit,” Steve panted, half-laughing. “I’m never gonna be able to look at this car the same way again.”

Eddie chuckled darkly, tucking himself back in. “You’re welcome.”

Y/N turned her head, face flushed and wet and smug.

“You boys always this fun on lunch break?”

Eddie leaned down to kiss her neck. “Only when you’re the main course.”

[feminist-space]

"Seminario cited the recent report, “Employer-Reported Workplace Injuries and Illnesses,” that shows that the number of respiratory illnesses in the private health care and social assistance sector increased from 145,300 in 2021 to 199,700 cases in 2022, an increase of 37.5 percent.

...

As an industrial hygienist, Seminario was extremely critical that there were no experts in respiratory protection on the committee nor did it include engineers who developed ventilation guidelines. She believes that the HICPAC committee members are likely so opposed to respirators “because once you are into recommending respiratory protection, with that comes a full respiratory protection program from OSHA,” with penalties for violations.

An epidemiologist and consultant, Michael Olesen, echoed this, believing the changes reflect “pressure to remove liability from hospitals.” He added, “I take a very clear position that we should be having respiratory protection mandates in all healthcare settings right now.”

...

Many patients who spoke at the HICPAC meetings said they had gotten Covid-19 when they went to the hospital and that the new policies were keeping them from getting care.

Given that, Dr. Art Caplan, professor of medical ethics at New York University’s Grossman School of Medicine, previously told me that dropping masking requirements in hospitals is “utterly, completely, irresponsible.” Similarly, staff refusing to mask, even when a patient requests it, is a moral failure. “The first principle is, you must do what is in the best interest of your patient,” he said.

...

Several people were asked why they believe HICPAC is determined to water down protections. Consistently, respondents say, “to reduce liability.” Earlier in the pandemic, hospitals regularly tested patients and staff for Covid-19, and you could often tell where and how you became infected. Since staff are no longer masking and continue working when ill, and patients are not being tested on admission, you can no longer prove who infected you. Hospitals are the only ones who win in this scenario, absolving themselves of responsibility and liability."

[yukipri]

Some thoughts on Cara

So some of you may have heard about Cara, the new platform that a lot of artists are trying out. It's been around for a while, but there's been a recent huge surge of new users, myself among them. Thought I'd type up a lil thing on my initial thoughts.

First, what is Cara?

From their About Cara page:

Cara is a social media and portfolio platform for artists. With the widespread use of generative AI, we decided to build a place that filters out generative AI images so that people who want to find authentic creatives and artwork can do so easily. Many platforms currently accept AI art when it’s not ethical, while others have promised “no AI forever” policies without consideration for the scenario where adoption of such technologies may happen at the workplace in the coming years. The future of creative industries requires nuanced understanding and support to help artists and companies connect and work together. We want to bridge the gap and build a platform that we would enjoy using as creatives ourselves. Our stance on AI: ・We do not agree with generative AI tools in their current unethical form, and we won’t host AI-generated portfolios unless the rampant ethical and data privacy issues around datasets are resolved via regulation. ・In the event that legislation is passed to clearly protect artists, we believe that AI-generated content should always be clearly labeled, because the public should always be able to search for human-made art and media easily.

Should note that Cara is independently funded, and is made by a core group of artists and engineers and is even collaborating with the Glaze project. It's very much a platform by artists, for artists!

Should also mention that in being a platform for artists, it's more a gallery first, with social media functionalities on the side. The info below will hopefully explain how that works.

Next, my actual initial thoughts using it, and things that set it apart from other platforms I've used:

1) When you post, you can choose to check the portfolio option, or to NOT check it. This is fantastic because it means I can have just my art organized in my gallery, but I can still post random stuff like photos of my cats and it won't clutter things. You can also just ramble/text post and it won't affect the gallery view!

2) You can adjust your crop preview for your images. Such a simple thing, yet so darn nice.

3) When you check that "Add to portfolio," you get a bunch of additional optional fields: Title, Field/Medium, Project Type, Category Tags, and Software Used. It's nice that you can put all this info into organized fields that don't take up text space.

4) Speaking of text, 5000 character limit is niiiiice. If you want to talk, you can.

5) Two separate feeds, a "For You" algorithmic one, and "Following." The "Following" actually appears to be full chronological timeline of just folks you follow (like Tumblr). Amazing.

6) Now usually, "For You" being set to home/default kinda pisses me off because generally I like curating my own experience, but not here, for this handy reason: if you tap the gear symbol, you can ADJUST your algorithm feed!

So you can choose what you see still!!! AMAZING. And, again, you still have your Following timeline too.

7) To repeat the stuff at the top of this post, its creation and intent as a place by artists, for artists. Hopefully you can also see from the points above that it's been designed with artists in mind.

8) No GenAI images!!!! There's a pop up that says it's not allowed, and apparently there's some sort of detector thing too. Not sure how reliable the latter is, but so far, it's just been a breath of fresh air, being able to scroll and see human art art and art!

To be clear, Cara's not perfect and is currently pretty laggy, and you can get errors while posting (so far, I've had more success on desktop than the mobile app), but that's understandable, given the small team. They'll need time to scale. For me though, it's a fair tradeoff for a platform that actually cares about artists.

Currently it also doesn't allow NSFW, not sure if that'll change given app store rules.

As mentioned above, they're independently funded, which means the team is currently paying for Cara itself. They have a kofi set up for folks who want to chip in, but it's optional. Here's the link to the tweet from one of the founders:

And a reminder that no matter that the platform itself isn't selling our data to GenAI, it can still be scraped by third parties. Protect your work with Glaze and Nightshade!

Anyway, I'm still figuring stuff out and have only been on Cara a few days, but I feel hopeful, and I think they're off to a good start.

I hope this post has been informative!

Lastly, here's my own Cara if you want to come say hi! Not sure at all if I'll be active on there, but if you're an artist like me who is keeping an eye out for hopefully nice communities, check it out!

[esperfruit]

And last but not least, the Narrow Gauge Squad!

Skarloey Fletcher

Age: 64 (at disappearance)

Height: 165 cm

Rheneas Fletcher

Age: 61 (at disappearance)

Height: 167 cm

Falcon "Sir Handel" Hughes

Age: 35

Height: 170 cm

Stuart "Peter Sam" Kerr

Age: 35

Height: 168 cm

A quartet from Wales that now runs the Blue Mountain Quarry. Decades ago the Fletcher brothers ran a narrow gauge line, called the Mid Sodor Railway alongside Duke England until Skarloey and Rheneas disappeared without a trace. Unable to run the railway by his own, Duke retired and returned home to Wales and told stories to the local children. Two of them were Falcon and Stuart, who were inspired to work on a railway themselves when they grow up. One day the young men could not find Duke anymore but still pursued their goals.

When the Fletcher brothers suddenly reappeared as pseudo-spririts and the news arrived the mainland, despite attempts to cover up this supernatural phenomenon, Falcon and Stuart, now calling themselves "Sir Handel" and "Peter Sam" left their workplace, the Talyllyn Railway to be transfered to Sodor.

Skarloey is a friendly elderly man, who enjoys his works just as much as he used to but he can also be very authoritarian and can send fear into other with his deep booming voice. His younger brother Rheneas had a reputation as being gallant thanks to his work ethic and looks after Peter Sam.

Sir Handel is pompous, grumpy and competitive and with how his engine can pull tiny express trains, his demeanor can be easily compared to Gordon, he also hates to be mistaken for a relative of James just for sharing the same last name.

Peter Sam is polite, optimistic and easy to please as he often does not need much to be happy. He is one of the few drivers who can handle trucks flawlessly. He is a bit gulliable and can take teasing a bit too literal. His engine is something he is very protective of and was very upset when its funnel got destroyed in an accident.

Duncan Barclay

Age: 29 cm

Height: 175 cm

A former factory worker with a foul mouth and a bad attitude. He doesn't have much appreciation for passangers and just wants to get his job done. Duncan doesn't really like to work to begin with and only gets along with Rusty, who can motivate him to get through the day without getting into any fights. He likes rock'n roll and jokingly liked to call his engine's occassional wobbeling that.

Rusty Hornsby

Age: 26

Height: 162 cm

A maintenance worker at the Blue Mountain Quarry. Rusty is seen in a good mood most of the time and loves to help others out with their skills. They not only can repair engines and rails but are also skilled at medical care in case someone did get injured. Rusty and and Duncan are very close to each others despite their opposite personalities. They were a bit cautious to work at a mountain at first because of an incident they had with a boulder once.

Luke Stuart

Age: 22

Height: 159 cm

A young man from Ireland that came to Sodor to work there but went into hiding for a while after he was involved in an incident, where he thought to have accidentily killed Victor. Luke hated himself for thinking of himself as a murderer and looked for shelter at the Blue Mountain Quarry, where Skarloey and the others helped to hide and protect him. He was more than relieved to finally learn Victor is alive and holds no ill-will towards Luke and is now an official Sodor resident, driving a tiny green narrow gauge engine. Luke is very shy and timid and also self-councious about how short he is. He used to get picked on a lot back in Ireland and now tries to get over his insecurities.

[leng-m]

I found out today that my workplace is now asking interview candidates how they feel about AI. My work has become an absolute staunch supporter of generative AI lately and is pressuring everyone to incorporate it into their daily work. Chatting with a few workmates, I am baffled that I'm the only one who seems to have any reservations about this. (I talked with my manager today and he wasn't even aware of all the ethical issues with it! Shocker!)

I want to clarify that I'm not categorically against all AI. I majored in compsci and I did my masters on machine learning. But the things I wanted to build with this skill set are things like anomaly detection and pattern recognition. I get excited about tools like spam filters and accurate search engines. There's a place for generative AI, like with GANs, but I believe that the way it's being wielded now by the industry is just soul-sucking.

My company has heavily hinted that there's no future for anyone there who isn't willing to jump on the genAI bandwagon; rather shocking as it was up until that point, the most employee-friendly company I've worked at so far. I'd hate to lose the comprehensive health benefits it provides at a time I'm dealing with a chronic illness. And even if I did leave, the darlings of the Toronto tech scene had made it clear genAI is their future -- everyone else is going to be copying them. I don't think there's any job that's safe from the AI infiltration.

So I want to ask you guys. If you're at a company that's now forcing you to use genAI, how are you using it in a way that still lets you sleep at night?

[2hoothoots]

because i'm predictable, what're bobby and chloe up to in the villain au? or how's the dynamic between sam and dogen since he's taken psychoisolation to the extreme?

Bobby's in a pretty similar position to the regular timeline - at least, at first glance. he's overworked and underpaid, constantly crunching to try and keep on top of the ever-growing mountain of paperwork his superiors keep handing down to him.

but i think the trajectory of his character looks pretty different? he never really met Raz at Whispering Rock. he never got humbled by him, never had to suffer the embarrassment of his spot as top dog being yanked away by some new kid... but he also never really got to go through a lot of the character growth from their ensuing rivalry? he's definitely mellower than he was as a kid, but he's got a lot of unresolved issues bubbling under the surface - anger problems, poor self-esteem, a tendency to lash out at authority figures...

he still really believes in the work he's doing, and wants the Psychonauts to be the force for good he knows they can be. but he's carrying a growing burden of stress and exhaustion, stuck in a toxic work environment that's more likely to change him (or just make him snap) than he is to change it.

his only real friend at the Motherlobe is Chloe. Chloe is... well! again, first-glance, not that much has changed. she works the same job in the Motherlobe's engineering and aerospace department, and she still gets to pursue her childhood fascination with space.

but the harsher work culture and the more pragmatic, efficient environment have exacerbated some of her less personable traits. she's blunt, rude, and almost fanatically devoted to her work, to the exception of basically everything else. her workplace safety standards are lax, and her ethics laxer. she'd sell the Psychonauts out for one corn chip if she thought it'd get her better funding for her pet projects

[viksalos]

The Mycelial Networking Project - A New Kind of Employment Structure for Neurodivergent Talent

Hey y'all--some of you might remember I used to be fairly active on here during my final few years of grad school, and then I nearly burned out of my PhD, found out I was autistic, and subsequently drastically reduced the time I spent on tumblr. Well, good news: I'm ok, I recovered from burnout, graduated, and discovered something surprising both in my PhD research and during my burnout recovery--cooperating with other people who are on the same wavelength as you is both more efficient for knowledge transfer in a variety of expert fields, and also socially healthier than struggling alone! Whoda thunk!

With that in mind, myself and Mykola Bilokonsky (creator of r/AutismTranslated, software developer, and Autistic coach) have been working for the past few months on the Mycelial Institute (at mycelial.institute in your address bar--I haven't linked it because tumblr search suppresses outside links, oops)

The Mycelial Institute is attempting to create a new kind of workplace that’s optimized for neurodivergent people. If you follow me on here or found this post from the tags, chances are you already know there are so many autistic, ADHD and other neurodivergent folks who have so much to give but who struggle to do so in a traditional employment context. We can be some of the most passionate experts you know and we'll still be languishing in unemployment because we're not able to do things the way everyone else does - and as a result everyone is worse off.

What if there was a different kind of employment available? One that:

Was completely worker owned, without any kind of profit-taking or power hierarchy orthogonal to the specific goals of the organization?

Understood that there are many different ways to contribute, and that some people can be profoundly valuable in some of those ways while struggling with others - and so decoupled them!

Accepted the fact that disability isn’t a fringe experience to marginalize but a core component of most peoples’ lives - especially during the age of Covid - and so prioritized accommodation?

Embraced non-punitive accountability - we have goals, we have challenges. Sometimes we can’t meet a goal because of a challenge. Instead of that being a source of shame, how can we make that an accepted learning experience and build in additional supports?

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in, please visit mycelial.institute. We are currently very early in this process, and are actively seeking collaborators. Currently we’re trying to build a diverse leadership team, meaning we want to find folks across as many marginalized identities as we can to help us make foundational decisions. This includes disability - we want non-speakers and intellectually disabled leadership as well. (You don’t need to be interested in a leadership role to fill out our submission form, we’re gathering a pool of folks in general.)

More info below the readmore:

We are the 🍄Mycelial Institute because we are inspired by the decompositional half of ecologies that often goes overlooked. Rather than competing for winner-take-all dominance, mushrooms accept that everything dies eventually and simply wait their turn to build large distributed networks that break down the waste of the broader system, giving rise to new forms of life. No ecosystem is complete without this component, and our economics generally fail to acknowledge this meaningfully.

A “Mycelial Network” here is a new kind of collective workplace. The corporate structure is such that there’s a board that steers the organization, made up of members. The organization seeks paying work from large clients who have needs that can be served by our diverse and specialized membership - but it’s not really important what kind of work that is, as long as it’s ethical. So we may do R&D for one client, engineering for another client, data analysis for another client, whatever - as long as we have folks in our membership who have things to contribute, we can match member to tasks.

The way this is structured is something we’re still working on, but we are thinking it’s likely going to be something like a Social Purpose Corporation or an L3C. The point is, we seek high paying work and exceed the expectations of our clients with specialist output, but those specialists are supported by other members as they carry out their tasks.

So there’s room in this organization for folks with e.g. a deep special interest in esoteric engineering practices, but there’s also room for those folks who derive deep satisfaction from filling out paperwork, or doing compliance or QA oversight, etc. We are a collective, and that means that everyone’s time is valuable and we sink or swim collectively.

Members are paid based on the decisions made by the board, but we’re leaning towards a flatter pay scale where folks are paid for contributing period, rather than treating some peoples’ time as more valuable than others, because we recognize that it requires a collective effort to get the work done and keep the client happy.

The organization itself may choose to keep a portion of proceeds to pay into a “Subsidy Pool”, which can be used to pay members to provide services to other members who couldn’t otherwise afford them. But nobody is getting a cut just for investing or anything like that, this institution doesn’t exist to enrich founders, it exists to cast a wide net of support for members of the served community.

(So far everyone involved is US-based and this will likely be a US-based organization, at least to start. That said, we don’t yet know what we don’t know, and welcome collaborators from other parts of the world at least for early days when we’re not making money etc yet anyway.

Just, we’re going to be figuring it out as we go along.)

-> mycelial.institute <-

[soon-palestine]

On Monday, a brave Google Cloud engineer spoke up against the corporation’s complicity in Israel’s genocide against the Palestinian people. A video of the worker standing up for their rights went viral, with some reposts reaching up to 8 million views and generating widespread global support, including from Palestinians in Gaza. Three days later, Google fired this worker.

Google has engaged in a clear cut act of retaliation against its own worker for speaking up about the terms and conditions of their labor.

This is the first immediate firing of a worker after a public, brave act of employee dissent against Project Nimbus, Google and Amazon’s shared $1.2 billion contract with the Israeli military and government. This is the second worker associated with the No Tech For Apartheid campaign that Google has retaliated against for organizing within their workplace, and the latest in a series of cases in which Google has retaliated against workers for speaking up about the corporation’s ethical malpractice in a range of business decisions.

While touting the importance of “democratic values” in the workplace, Google is shutting down free speech and silencing debate and dissent among workers within the company.

Google’s aims are clear: The corporation is trying to silence workers to hide their moral failings. Google is enabling the world’s first AI-powered genocide through Project Nimbus. Through this contract, Google and Amazon are aiding and abetting the Israeli apartheid state and genocidal campaign in Gaza against Palestinians. Instead of cleaning up its own house, and dropping its contract with a genocidal regime, Google is punching down on its own workers. For almost three years, thousands of Google & Amazon workers have organized against the companies’ contracts with the Israeli government and military, with no response from management or executives.

As a Cloud Software Engineer on critical technology that enables Project Nimbus to run on sovereign Israeli data centers, this worker spoke from a place of deep personal concern about the direct, violent impacts of their labor. They spoke from a deep belief that truly ethical engineering must account for the impact on communities around the world.

While terminating this brave worker, Google HR asked how they were feeling. The worker replied: “proud to be fired for refusing to be complicit in genocide.”

[thanathicca]

imperare sibi maximum imperium est ramblings: Telman Edition

mostly related to this post (the news from the Pathologic Fest Day 1, From the Other Side)

Okay, okay. (vibrates a little) So, I have seen Telmans who were legitimate professors. I like the headcanon that he is the de jure head of Thanatica, since Daniil was too young to get any respect or legal authority (obviously, Dankovsky is the de facto leader). I also enjoy the headcanon that Telman is an obstructive bureaucrat - making Dankovsky's life harder every damn time, such as having blackmail material about him being trans, inventing HRT, or performing abortions in secret. A Telman being a liaison between the lab and the authorities/TPTB/Inquisitors is also compelling.

Now, for my 22nd century Thanatica AU, I go to another, and very noncanon direction. I present to you a Telman who is just Elongated Muskrat. Vector Tech (or maybe I might rename it Upward Vector, or a variation on that. I am shaking in excitement here.) is a technological company made to realize the sci-fi dreams of its trillionaire "founder" (who bought it from probably legitimate businesspeople and engineers). It is fitting that in a universe where teleporters are a viable transportation method, deepfaked news is commonplace, physical media is almost dead, old movies have to be pirated because the publishers pulled it out of print, and water coolers have timers to prevent workplace chats and unionization, Telman's dreams would 10000% include an invention that has been tried and failed multiple times: mind-uploading. And Thanatica actually did it!

The excerpt from that post reads like so: (this is a rough draft)

Is this the end for Thanatica Labs? THE CAPITAL, 1 OCTOBER 2165 Daniil Dankovsky, founder of Thanatica Laboratories and lead scientist of the first successful mind-uploading device AVA Project, has once again declined an offer of cooperation from a multinational company. The cooperation deal by Vector Tech, which would have netted Dankovsky a record XXX billion, would have Thanatica Labs give away their exclusive rights to the AVA blueprints and let the company build new AVA units with a tiered subscription program. "We regret that the deal couldn’t be done," Mr. Telman, CEO of Vector Tech, has gone on record to say. "It’s a shame that Thanatica hoards all their progress under Dankovsky’s influence. Our company would have brought your AVA to the whole world! What kind of scientist are you?" When requested for an interview, Dr. Dankovsky responded, “Thanatica has, and will always, stand with ethical practices. We are scientists who would not gate one’s life behind paywalls. The deal would have made a version of AVA with proprietary Vector Tech operating system, which has gone on record to sell people’s data to third parties, including intelligence agencies. Would you want data submitted the AVA, which would contain your most vulnerable memories, to be sold to the highest bidder? Would you want targeted advertisements in your brain? Moreover, the deal also mentioned using the subscription programs to access certain memories or even brain functions, which meant you could randomly forget the most important moments in your life, or even forget how to solve a crossword, just because you are a little short on money.” Vector Tech has not responded to an interview request.

Thanatica and Vector Tech might even have beef dating back a few years. Imagine if the whistleblowing incident of 2163 also involved Telman's company (as in, a whistleblower from there) - although, I imagine it would be a different company, since, if Dankovsky has fucked them up before through the incident, why would he try again to get the rights to the Ad Vitam Aeternam (AVA) Project?

Okay, maybe if he is truly based on Elon Musk, maybe he just... doesn't have the good sense to avoid bothering Thanatica again. But, on the other hand, why wouldn't he? I think multiple companies would bother Thanatica about the AVA, actually. Mind-uploading is just nuts. It is probably one of the most idealistic and difficult-to-realize science fiction tropes. As of Chapter 11, the fact that Dankovsky has moved to a robotic chassis has not been publicized yet... but when it does, it has to be done wisely, and probably slowly.

That's going to be part of the story too, of course - if you are interested, you can hop on the ride and see the public relations mayhem Thanatica will be subjected to (and subjecting itself to). There is no need to be afraid about missing things, for now - imperare sibi maximum imperium est is extremely slow-paced for now, with its chapters clocking less than 3k words each (some even less than 2k), and it is only beginning. Act 1 isn't even halfway done, and if our physical ability and time allows, there should be more Acts to follow.

So! What do you all think of this Telman and his company? What are you interested in seeing re: the reveal of Dankovsky's survival from the plague? Or do you think other companies should be made here, perhaps using the names of the Inquisitors? I would be highly interested in hearing all your(&) answers. Feel free to reply to this, DM us, send an ask, or even speak your mind in the tags :>

[mkcecollege]

At M.Kumarasamy College of Engineering (MKCE), we emphasize the significance of engineering ethics in shaping responsible engineers. Engineering ethics guide decision-making, foster professionalism, and ensure societal welfare. Our curriculum integrates these principles, teaching students to consider the long-term impacts of their work. Students are trained in truthfulness, transparency, and ethical communication, while also prioritizing public safety and environmental sustainability. We focus on risk management and encourage innovation in sustainable technologies. Our programs also address contemporary challenges like artificial intelligence and cybersecurity, preparing students to tackle these with ethical responsibility. MKCE nurtures future engineers who lead with integrity and contribute to society’s well-being.

To know more : https://mkce.ac.in/blog/engineering-ethics-and-navigating-the-challenges-of-modern-technologies/

[mitchipedia]

Everyone is cheating their way through college: ChatGPT has unraveled the entire academic project

James D. Walsh at New York Intelligencer writes a deeply researched article on how students at “large state schools, the Ivies, liberal-arts schools in New England, universities abroad, professional schools, and community colleges” … “are relying on AI to ease their way through every facet of their education…. take their notes during class, devise their study guides and practice tests, summarize novels and textbooks, and brainstorm, outline, and draft their essays. STEM students are using AI to automate their research and data analyses and to sail through dense coding and debugging assignments. ‘College is just how well I can use ChatGPT at this point,’ [said a Utah student].”

If you cheat your way through college, are you cheating yourself? Robbing yourself of the education you’re paying tens of thousands of years for? Or is college just a gate you pass through to get to a higher-paying job and higher social status?

[Troy Jollimore, a poet, philosopher, and Cal State Chico ethics professor,] who has been teaching writing for more than two decades, is now convinced that the humanities, and writing in particular, are quickly becoming an anachronistic art elective like basket-weaving. “Every time I talk to a colleague about this, the same thing comes up: retirement. When can I retire? When can I get out of this? That’s what we’re all thinking now,” he said. “This is not what we signed up for.” Williams, and other educators I spoke to, described AI’s takeover as a full-blown existential crisis. “The students kind of recognize that the system is broken and that there’s not really a point in doing this. Maybe the original meaning of these assignments has been lost or is not being communicated to them well.”

He worries about the long-term consequences of passively allowing 18-year-olds to decide whether to actively engage with their assignments. Would it accelerate the widening soft-skills gap in the workplace? If students rely on AI for their education, what skills would they even bring to the workplace? Lakshya Jain, a computer-science lecturer at the University of California, Berkeley, has been using those questions in an attempt to reason with his students. “If you’re handing in AI work,” he tells them, “you’re not actually anything different than a human assistant to an artificial-intelligence engine, and that makes you very easily replaceable. Why would anyone keep you around?” That’s not theoretical: The COO of a tech research firm recently asked Jain why he needed programmers any longer.

(Emphasis added by me.)

GenAI is a great assistant but if using GenAI is your only skill, why would anyone hire you?

GenAI is like Microsoft Office: It’s a tool. Everybody who works at a desk job nowadays needs to know how to use Office or its Google equivalent, but if using Office is all you know how to do, then you have no job skills.

The ideal of college as a place of intellectual growth, where students engage with deep, profound ideas, was gone long before ChatGPT. The combination of high costs and a winner-takes-all economy had already made it feel transactional, a means to an end. (In a recent survey, Deloitte found that just over half of college graduates believe their education was worth the tens of thousands of dollars it costs a year, compared with 76 percent of trade-school graduates.) In a way, the speed and ease with which AI proved itself able to do college-level work simply exposed the rot at the core. “How can we expect them to grasp what education means when we, as educators, haven’t begun to undo the years of cognitive and spiritual damage inflicted by a society that treats schooling as a means to a high-paying job, maybe some social status, but nothing more?” Jollimore wrote in a recent essay. “Or, worse, to see it as bearing no value at all, as if it were a kind of confidence trick, an elaborate sham?”

The article features Chungin “Roy” Lee, a twenty-something AI entrepreneur who has built tools — and businesses based on them — to enable people to use AI to cheat at college, on job interviews and even on dates.

“Every technological innovation has caused humanity to sit back and think about what work is actually useful,” [Lee] said. “There might have been people complaining about machinery replacing blacksmiths in, like, the 1600s or 1800s, but now it’s just accepted that it’s useless to learn how to blacksmith.”

If writing is going to be obsolete, like basket-weaving and blacksmithing, then so be it. I don’t worry about it. I write to set my thoughts in order, and I don’t anticipate stopping that.

As for work: If writing ceases to become a marketable skill … well, I’ll figure something out. “I’ll figure something out” has been a theme of my career.

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 4)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Here is the next bit. I apologise for the chaos that is Alex's brain. Unfortunately, I think he inherited it from me.

This one was sparked by @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf, @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps.

Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight who read through this one and helped me tweak things. Sorry I am so mean to da bois.

This fic is m/m romance fluff with a dash of h/c and sickfic. If that isn't your thing, this isn't your fic.

This is definitely turning out to be bigger than expected, now at 6500+ words with plenty more to go.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Alex was awake.

Since it was barely 4am, this was annoying.

Beside him, the slightly too warm mass of Virgil was breathing noisily but slightly better than he had been earlier.

Gordon was right. This bug, whatever it was, had hit Virgil hard. The engineer, however, routinely tried to rise above it, attempt his usual activities and then fall on his face.

It was irrational and Alex could clearly see why their grandmother was so often exasperated with them if this was the norm.

Over the last three days, Alex had made it his sole purpose to keep Virgil distracted and cared for as much as possible.

He may have resorted to using their grandmother as a threat at least once. Mostly because of his own exasperation.

“Virgil, you’re sick. Slow down.”

“Two needs her checks before she can go out again.” The man was throwing on clothes and while Alex was definitely admiring the scenery, five minutes earlier Virgil had been sleeping.

But even through the soundproofing of the villa, he was able to hear his Thunderbird return from its latest mission.

Virgil hated being left behind. That much was so obvious.

“I’m sure Gordon is quite capa-“

“Gordon?” It was said with both offence and love at the same time. He shoved on his jeans.

“Brains then.” Alex had met Brains once and…wow, he lived up to his name. How had Alex ever had a chance with a genius engineer like that on the Island? But it was clear Virgil and Hiram were only very good friends.

The Island was full of geniuses and just slightly terrifying.

But at least the mention of Brains had Virgil pausing.

Alex took the opportunity and slid off the bed. He came up behind his frustrating hero and wrapped his arms around him. “C’mon, love, stay with me and rest.”

“You could come down to the hangars with me.”

“And be castrated when your grandmother discovers I colluded with you?”

That did it. Virgil’s shoulders dropped and he relaxed just a little back into Alex’s embrace.

Alex planted a kiss just below his ear. “Brains can do the maintenance. Stay here with me.”

Ultimately, he had been successful in keeping Virgil out of the hangars, but he could clearly see why Gordon had thought it necessary to haul in Alex.

Sometimes the hero needed reining in.

Alex brushed a kiss into sleeping Virgil’s hair and quietly slipped out of bed.

If he was honest, he wasn’t used to getting this much sleep himself, so being unable to sleep at 4am was no surprise.

Erica would laugh at him, so much.

She certainly had enough words to say about Alex working from Tracy Island yesterday. Just because he felt bad for leaving Erica on the lurch to go save his boyfriend from himself was apparently not enough excuse to log into his workplace when said boyfriend was ill.

Erica had been very emphatic about that. To the point of kicking him off the server, claiming he didn’t trust her with their work, and to damn well go look after Virgil.

Virgil, at that point, was absolutely fine apart from the convulsions of laughter he was struggling with beside Alex on the couch.

Of course, laughter led to a coughing fit, so Alex did end up signing out rather quickly. But despite grabbing water for the man he loved, said man still managed to rib him about it for the next hour.

So Alex had a work ethic. Virgil certainly couldn’t talk.

Alex sighed just a little as he threw on Virgil’s spare dressing gown.

Every time he landed on Tracy Island, Alex ended up stealing clothes. Usually Virgil’s, but there had been some obvious additions to Virgil’s wardrobe that Alex doubted had ever fit the well-muscled and shorter man.

It was just another thing to love about him.

And a possible reason why Alex hadn’t moved anything here but the basics.

He slipped out of Virgil’s rooms with the intention of maybe hiding for a little in the guest quarters that were his officially allocated space when on the Island. He did spend a lot of time in Virgil’s rooms, however, and was seeing less and less of being a guest.

It was still dark, starlight shining through the rafters of the residential block. He padded down the hallway only to encounter the glass that led out onto the residential balcony. The doors were closed, but the vista was enough to take his breath away.

Starlight gave the Island shape and glittered on the ripples in the lagoon. Despite having visited here multiple times, Tracy Island still held magic for him.

His mum wasn’t wrong when she said he had looked for this island so many times.

Considering who lived here…

He swallowed, as always, completely blown away that Virgil loved him and the events of the last couple of years had even happened.

He shook himself. It was too early in the morning to be thinking straight. Or maybe he had had too much sleep over the last three days. That was probably it. His brain was in shock.

Erica cracked up laughing in the back of his head.

Yep, losing it.

He turned away from the vista and headed down the stairs to the comms room. At least there he wasn’t going to disturb anyone.

The villa was a maze that he was slowly becoming familiar with. He was pretty sure he wasn’t aware of all of it. There were gaps in the structure, places he couldn’t account for in his growing mental map. But this was Tracy Island and it needed its little mysteries.

He slipped into the comms room on bare feet and found the glass doors open with the tropical breeze wafting through.

Wow, the scents, the sounds, bloody amazing place.

He eyed the mound that outlined Lego Tracy Island, still in the process of being rebuilt and made sure to give it a wide berth.

“Alex?”

He jumped.

How had he not seen Mr…Scott sitting there? The man was at his desk, the hologram in front of him lighting up his face like someone about to tell a horror story around a campfire.

A blue campfire…must be odd chemicals in the wood…but-

Focus.

“Mr Tracy?”

“What are you doing up? Is Virgil okay?” His eyes caught that blue holographic light and lasered it at Alex as he moved to get up.

Alex held up his hands and hurried over. “No, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

Scott sat back in his chair. “That’s good to hear.”

Alex let his hands drop, ever so aware of those eyes gauging everything about him. Mr…Scott had been so kind to him since Virgil declared his intentions.

Intentions.

Virgil’s intentions…he wanted to bounce on the spot.

Scott cleared his throat and Alex jumped.

Just a little.

God, he was hopeless.

“He listens to you.” There was something in those eyes. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“He’s sick. Of course, I came.”

Mr…Scott looked away, back to whatever he was working on. “Thank you, anyway.”

It was a dismissal. Alex frowned. “What are you doing up this early?”

“Things to do.” And Mr Tracy was doing something. Numbers flashed across the hologram as he shunted something aside. He looked up at Alex again. “You?”

“Uh, just stretching my legs.” Those eyes weren’t tearing into his chest, ripping out his soul, and dissecting it for answers. No, not at all.

The eye of Sauron had nothing on this.

But then blue was on the high energy end of the spectrum and Scott did have two eyes.

Did that mean Sauron had poor depth perception?

Probably how two hobbits made it into Mordor without him noticing.

One eyed and all.

“Alex?”

Those eyes wanted answers.

“Uh, yeah, you have a great view.” He gestured towards the balcony.

Those eyes followed his gesture.

“We do.” Mr…Scott stood up slowly and walked towards Alex, momentarily disappearing into shadow as he moved away from the hologram, only to appear beside Alex at the doors to the balcony.

Alex did his best not to bolt entirely.

He muted it down to a small step sideways.

He was being stupid and he knew it. Scott was Virgil’s brother. Scott held all the values Virgil held. Scott could be a goofball; Alex had seen him with his brothers many times now. The man was commanding kindness itself.

But Scott was Mr Tracy. Even now when Mr Jeff Tracy had returned and made his space in the family. Scott was THE Mr Tracy. He was someone Alex had admired and looked up to for a good percentage of his life. The man’s values and charisma infected all of those around him. He had power in a mere glance.

Eyes of bloody Sauron.

And maybe Erica was right when she said Alex shouldn’t make any decisions between one and five in the morning.

A heavy, warm hand landed on Alex’s shoulder and he tried not to flinch.

“I meant it, Alex. I’m very grateful you are here for Virgil.”

“Um, yeah, me, too.” Get it together, Alex, for goodness sake.

Mr Scott turned to look towards the sky and all the stars. So many stars with the lack of light pollution. Bloody amazing.

Magical even.

“I worried about him, you know. All of them really. We live like monks out here. Day in, day out, saving so many lives, but not living our own.”

What?

Mr Scott let out a breath. “It is so easy to get caught in doing what is right…for everyone else.” He turned to look at Alex and his eyes glistened in the starlight. “I’m so glad he found you.”

Umm…

He looked away again. “Virgil has been so happy these past months. You’ve brought so much joy into this house.”

Uh…

The hand on his shoulder gripped tight as those eyes turned back to Alex and pinned him where he stood. “So, when I say thank you, I mean it.”

Alex stared at him. This was a side of Mr Scott he had not seen. He knew he cared for his family pretty damned intensely. He’d heard International Rescue working over comms those few times he had been on Tracy Island during an incident.

Incidents happened a lot. The Tracys worked themselves to the bone.

Maybe Scott was just tired. Alex had seen Virgil tired enough. The man had fallen into his arms more than once with exhaustion, curling up in Alex’s bed, sometimes fully dressed.

Alex could understand the obsession with work. Especially since the Tracys’ work involved lives. So many lives. It was one of the reasons why he had come without Gordon asking. Virgil was as obsessed as any of them and if Alex thought too hard it led in the direction of Virgil one day sacrificing his life for a stranger and Alex’s brain just did not want to go there.

But Mr Scott…

“Are you okay?” It fell out of his mouth without thought.

The hand on his shoulder disappeared and Mr Tracy straightened. “I’m fine, Alex.” He stared out towards the caldera every bit the starlit hero.

But his eyes were still glistening.

Alex reached out and touched his arm. Heat seeped through the thin fabric of Scott’s shirt.

Far too much heat.

“Mr Tracy?!”

Those eyes turned to him again, emotion in their depths. “Promise me you’ll look after him.”

“I-“ But Alex was grabbing the man as he suddenly wavered on his feet.

Heat radiated off him. What the-? “Mr Tracy?!”

“I’m f-ine.” But it was little more than breath as Scott’s focus faltered.

And those gloriously powerful eyes rolled up in his head.

Alex struggled to catch him as he fell.

His knees hit the wooden floor hard and his foot collided with something that clinked and broke into pieces.

A vague neuron in Alex’s head acknowledged the objects scattering around and jabbing him were probably Lego, but Scott’s head was lolling onto his shoulder as his limbs splayed everywhere, and-

“Mr Tracy?! Scott?!”

No response.

Those eyes remained shut.

“John!” He yelled at the top of his voice, knowing somewhere someone would hear him. “Thunderbird Five!”

“HELP!!”

-o-o-o-

Next

[spoiled-fawn]

Johnny MacTavish; Miner

Introduction to the AU

Let's meet our candidate!

Where is he from?

Virginia City, NV

Where does he live?

Santa Ysabel, CA

What's his livelihood?

With high aspirations and raised by a father who worked in the mines, Johnny’s work ethic and passion have created a successful career for him in engineering. He is the lead demolition expert at Ready Relief Mine and maintains safety for all through his work.

What are his qualities?

Johnny described himself as a curious man about the sciences behind explosives- safe yet innovative. He is a social butterfly, a proud man of his upbringing and passions, and someone who loves to explore the great outdoors. While being a flirt through his letters and words, he is actually quite romantic and knows how to write eloquently with small phrases of poetry and romance to express his feelings that would not fit into ordinary words.

He is an adrenaline seeker and loves to test and hone his skills in demolition concoctions, so he wants someone who isn’t opposed to loud booms and science adventures, safely, of course. Despite his fun side, he does have a hard exterior when involving the safety and protection of others, never one to let someone he loves be hurt by man or nature. Johnny has a heart full of longing, ready to have someone to come home to, and is the most charming man who can make anyone smile when trying to make them happy.

Biography

John MacTavish, otherwise known as Johnny, was born and raised in Virginia City, Nevada, in 1845. He is the son of a miner and a dressmaker, with three younger siblings. John's father died in an unexpected cave-in when Johnny was just a boy, leaving his mother to raise him on her own with a newborn being the youngest of the family. Despite the hardship of their life, Johnny’s mother instilled a strong work ethic and a passion for engineering in him, despite the cause of the death of his father, which he once cursed for all of their troubles. 

As a young man, John became an expert in munitions and served for a time as a military engineer. After his service, he was approached with an offer to move to the new mine in Santa Ysabel, California, where he would be in charge of the mine's demolition work. He developed a reputation as a master of his craft, and his skills were in high demand by mining companies throughout the region. 

Johnny's passion for demolition went beyond his professional life; he liked to experiment with explosives in his spare time, testing out new combinations and techniques in the wilderness, far away from the mine's tunnels. He loved the rush of adrenaline that came from handling a dangerous substance, and he took great care to ensure the safety of himself and others during these experiments. When not working or experimenting with explosives, Johnny can often be found in the saloon, sharing a drink with friends and telling stories of his adventures in the mines. His smile and kind, easygoing nature made him well-liked by the other miners, who respected his expertise and his determination to make their workplace a safer place. 

Now having moved away from his mother and younger siblings, he misses the chaotic home that he would always come back to, and the sounds of people talking on a night under the sky. He wants someone who will keep his home warm, ready to welcome him back from the mines with a large smile and hug, plus, not minding the dirt and dust that he brings home. He is a very reliable man; often seen as too casual but once someone gets hurt, his fists are quicker than a scorpion’s stinger. As a very romantic man just waiting for the right person, he is ready to create a bond stronger than diamonds.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Amit Kumar

Published: Feb 17, 2025

So that our knowledge and skills don’t shrivel and decay, psychotherapists like myself have to regularly take continuing education training. I recently took a multi-day training on treating victims of a certain type of abusive relationship, also known as a pathological love relationship or narcissistic abuse. Quickly into the training, I learned that I wasn’t being instructed in how to identify and treat people in these relationships but how to identify and treat women in these relationships. 

A perfunctory disclaimer was given stating that the group’s research was on women as victims and men as the pathological partners but that the dynamic could be reversed as well. There was no curiosity about how often males are victims; the possibility that the male experience as victim could be different than the female experience; or whether a female pathological partner exhibits different behaviors than a male one.  

Although disappointing, this was not surprising. A recent review paper by researchers Maja Graso and Tania Reynolds titled A Feminine Advantage in the Domain of Harm: A Review and Path Forward shows that research consistently finds that compared to males, females evoke greater instincts of empathy, care, and protection. Moreover, it is easier for individuals to typecast females as victims and males as perpetrators. 

The researchers convincingly make their case citing numerous examples. Two studies find that people are more willing to sacrifice a man’s life than a woman’s in ethical dilemmas where they can end a life to save others. When viewing pictures of men and women in pain, greater concern is reported for women. In a study where individuals could gain financially from inflicting pain on others, they harmed male targets more whereas they chose to receive less money to shield women from pain. 

In scenarios of identical mistreatment from a same-gender friend, people felt less sympathy and were more dismissive to men compared to women. Study subjects were more willing to support a drug that provided overall benefits but had side effects for men versus one that had the same benefits and disproportionate side effects for women. 

In discussing research about hiring discrimination, Graso and Reynolds state that “[p]eople more strongly believe women’s under-representation in male-dominated fields (e.g., engineering) reflects societal discrimination and warrants social action compared with men’s under-representation in female-dominated fields (e.g., nursing).” Furthermore, people “overestimate the degree of hiring discrimination against women and underestimate the degree of discrimination against men.”

Graso and Reynolds also discuss sexual harassment, stating that “[e]xperiments reveal people perceive the same actions as more sexist, harassing, and insulting when they are committed by a man than a woman,” and that “people desire harsher punishments and are less willing to forgive a man (versus a woman) who makes a potentially inappropriate comment at the workplace.”  

In both mock juror experiments and in real life courtrooms, males receive harsher treatment even when accounting for the defendants’ criminal record and the nature of the crime (in case you didn’t think there were enough links in that sentence, here is another mock juror study, and three more real world analyses).

Of particular relevance to my training, Graso and Reynolds also note that “male victims of female-perpetrated intimate partner violence are met with ridicule, doubt and minimization, despite evidence suggesting women commit intimate partner violence at similar rates to men.” 

In my training, I was instructed that the perpetrator profile we were studying was that of individuals with narcissistic and antisocial personality disorders because they were the most dangerous. Research shows, however, that it is borderline and antisocial personality disorders that exhibit the most psychological and physical abuse in romantic relationships.

I suspect this discrepancy stems from the female favoring biases discussed in the Graso and Reynolds paper. Narcissistic and antisocial personality disorders are found more in males, who are more easily viewed as perpetrators, and borderline personality disorder is generally considered to occur more often in females, who are more easily viewed as victims. 

This blind spot may inadvertently disadvantage many women in pathological relationships as well because although borderline personality disorder is diagnosed more in females, studies show roughly equal prevalence in males and females. One more place where these biases may appear is that treatment protocols for borderline personality disorder are developed and researched using mostly female patients, and unsurprisingly typical treatments don’t work as well with males.  

I’ve noticed this female advantage in my clinical work, too, like in clinical exercises drawing on Solomon’s Paradox, which refers to the consistent and reliable finding that people reason better about others’ problems compared to their own. 

Solomon’s Paradox is why therapists often ask questions to force the client to view their situation from another perspective—questions like, “What would you say to a friend in the same situation?” “What would you say to yourself if you were your own coach or mentor?” Or controversial psychologist Jordan Peterson’s uncontroversial suggestion to “[t]reat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping.” 

Using this principle, I ask my clients in pathological relationships to imagine what they would think of a loved one in a similar relationship. In the past, I would have them imagine someone of the same gender, assuming similarity of the hypothetical protagonist would be most effective, but it was never as powerful an exercise with men. After learning about these female-favoring biases, I began to ask male clients about their sisters instead of their brothers. Their responses transformed from helpful but tepid support offered to their brothers to righteous paternal love and anger, sometimes through tears, on behalf of their sisters. 

After these thought experiments, some male clients express the same bias plaguing their relationships: As men, they are supposed to persevere through the pain, confessing that they are not worth the same consideration as women, not deserving of the same love and respect as the other half of the species.

Today, these biases intersect with a myriad of struggles befalling contemporary men. Contrary to the zero-sum thinking that rampages through our gender discourse, we need each other—helping half of society invariably helps the other half. A protective impulse toward women may certainly be healthy, and most would give the caveat that it need not be patronizing to our sisters. Perhaps we should add that it should never sanction the neglect of our brothers.