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bandsofmarv · 7 months ago

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What’s Your Favourite Horror Movie Pogue?

Rafe Cameron, consumed by an obsessive love for you, becomes Ghostface, murdering anyone he sees as a threat to his claim on you.

TW- murder, obsessive behaviour.

The Outer Banks was known for its beauty: golden sunsets, endless beaches, and the salty air that whispered promises of freedom. But lately, that promise felt like a lie. The town was gripped with fear, whispers of a masked killer spreading like wildfire. They called him Ghostface, a name plucked from horror movies but now real, haunting your life in ways you couldn’t escape.

What no one knew—what you didn’t know—was that the killer wasn’t some faceless stranger. It was Rafe Cameron.

And his obsession with you was the reason the killings had begun.

The first time you noticed something strange, it had been subtle. Rafe was always intense, his gaze lingering on you a little too long, his presence suffocating in a way that should have made you uncomfortable. But Rafe was also charming, magnetic even. You found yourself drawn to him despite the warnings in your head.

But as the days passed, his intensity deepened. He started showing up unannounced—at your work, outside your house, even at the places you went to clear your mind.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he’d say, flashing that disarming smile. “With everything going on, you can’t be too careful.”

At first, it felt sweet. Protective. But soon, it felt suffocating.

The murders began with strangers—people you didn’t know well enough to connect the dots. A lifeguard at the beach, a couple tourists who had wandered into the wrong part of town. The pattern was erratic at first, but then it started to hit closer to home.

You were with Sarah Cameron when she got the call about her boyfriend, Topper. The cops had found him in the woods, gutted like an animal. Sarah broke down in your arms, sobbing uncontrollably, and you couldn’t help but notice Rafe watching from the corner of the room.

His expression wasn’t one of grief. It was satisfaction.

The night it all came crashing down, you were alone in your house. The power had gone out during a storm, and you were sitting in the living room with a flashlight and your phone, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling over you.

That’s when you heard the knock at the door.

It wasn’t loud—just three soft taps, deliberate and slow.

“Who is it?” you called, your voice shaking.

No response.

You grabbed a kitchen knife and crept toward the door, your heart pounding. When you peeked through the peephole, all you saw was darkness.

Then your phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number: You shouldn’t be alone.

Your blood ran cold.

Before you could react, the window behind you shattered, and a figure in black vaulted into the room. The scream caught in your throat as the figure lunged at you, pinning you to the floor.

The knife clattered from your hand as you struggled, but it was no use. The figure was too strong, too quick.

“Stop fighting,” the distorted voice said, low and mechanical through the voice modulator. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The masked figure pulled out a knife, holding it to your throat, but he didn’t press down. Instead, he leaned closer, tilting his head as if studying you.

Then, slowly, he removed the mask.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His eyes were wild, his lips curved into a twisted smile. “I told you I’d protect you,” he said, his voice soft but laced with something dark. “I just needed to get rid of the distractions.”

“Distractions?” you echoed, your mind racing as realization hit.

“Topper. JJ. Sarah. They were all in the way. You couldn’t see it, but I did. They didn’t deserve to be near you.”

Tears streamed down your face as you stared at him in horror. “You killed them? All of them?”

“I did it for you,” he said, his tone almost tender. “Don’t you see? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

You shook your head, trying to inch away, but he grabbed your wrists, his grip bruising.

The room was suffocating, the walls closing in as Rafe knelt over you, the Ghostface mask discarded at his side. His wild blue eyes locked onto yours, his breath uneven with exhilaration.

“Let me explain,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with madness. “You don’t understand now, but you will.”

You didn’t want to understand. Every instinct told you to fight, to scream, to do something, but his weight pinned you to the floor, and his manic gaze froze you in place.

“It started with Topper,” Rafe said, as if you’d asked for the story. “That guy was such an idiot, thinking he could push you around at parties, making those crude comments. I hated the way he looked at you.”

Your mind flashed to that night at the beach bonfire, when Topper had made some drunk joke about you being “the hottest Pogue.” You’d brushed it off, but Rafe had been furious, storming off without a word.

“I followed him that night,” Rafe continued, his tone calm, like he was recounting a mundane event. “He didn’t even hear me coming. One quick cut across the throat, and he went down like the pathetic little worm he was.”

You gagged, bile rising in your throat, but Rafe didn’t stop.

“And Sarah,” he said, his lips curling into a sneer. “She was always trying to play the big sister, telling me to leave you alone. She didn’t get it. She thought she could warn you, but she didn’t realize how serious I was.”

Tears blurred your vision as you thought of Sarah—her kind smile, the way she’d pulled you aside to warn you about Rafe’s behavior.

“I didn’t want to kill her,” he said, his voice softening, almost regretful. “But she wouldn’t shut up. She was going to ruin everything. So, I took her out by the marsh. She fought hard, you know? Almost made me rethink it. Almost.”

He paused, studying your face as if gauging your reaction. “I made it quick. For her.”

“You’re a monster,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

His eyes darkened, and he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t say that,” he hissed. “I did this for you. For us. You think I wanted to hurt you? To scare you? I had to. They were all trying to take you away from me.”

“JJ…” you started, your voice trembling.

Rafe grinned, leaning back slightly. “Oh, JJ was fun. He was always so cocky, always acting like he could protect you. I wanted to see him break.”

You remembered the day JJ’s body was found under the pier, the jagged “X” carved into his chest. The image would haunt you forever.

“He begged,” Rafe said, his tone almost giddy now. “He said, ‘Please, don’t do this.’ As if I’d ever listen to him. He didn’t deserve to be near you, Y/N. None of them did.”

“And Kie?” you choked out, tears streaming down your face.

Rafe’s expression hardened. “Kie was the worst. She thought she was better than everyone, always pretending she was the voice of reason. She was a bad influence on you.”

You felt like you might vomit as he continued.

“She went down easy,” he said with a shrug. “I cornered her after you two said goodbye that night. She didn’t even see it coming. She was so distracted, thinking she could keep you safe. But she didn’t stand a chance.”

Your sobs grew louder, and Rafe’s demeanor shifted. He reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle despite the horrors he was describing.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured. “It’s over now. It’s just us. No one else will ever hurt you, or distract you, or take you away from me.”

“You’re insane,” you spat, your voice shaking with equal parts fear and fury.

Rafe chuckled, leaning closer. “Maybe. But I’m also the only one who truly loves you. Don’t you see that? I did all of this for you.”

You stared into his eyes, the weight of his obsession crashing down on you. There was no reasoning with him, no appealing to his humanity. Rafe Cameron wasn’t just insane—he was utterly and completely lost to his delusion.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You don’t have to fight this. I’ve already won.”

His arrogance was your opening. Summoning every ounce of courage you had left, you drove your knee upward, catching him off-guard. He grunted, the knife slipping from his hand and skidding across the floor.

You didn’t think—you just moved. Scrambling to your feet, you bolted for the door, your heart pounding like a war drum.

“Y/N!” Rafe roared, his voice filled with both fury and disbelief.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

Your bare feet slapped against the hardwood as you sprinted out into the stormy night, rain pelting your face and blurring your vision. The wind howled around you, carrying Rafe’s voice as he shouted your name.

You stumbled into the woods, branches clawing at your skin as you pushed deeper into the darkness. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your lungs burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever.

Behind you, you could hear him crashing through the underbrush, relentless in his pursuit.

“You can’t run from me!” he called, his voice cutting through the rain like a blade. “You’re mine, Y/N! You’ll always be mine!”

————————————————————————

You didn’t know how long you ran, but eventually, you found yourself near the old marina. The boats swayed violently in the storm, their masts creaking like eerie sentinels. Desperation drove you forward as you searched for a hiding place, somewhere—anywhere—to catch your breath.

You spotted an abandoned boathouse and darted inside, slamming the door behind you. The smell of salt and damp wood filled your nostrils as you collapsed against the wall, your chest heaving.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then came the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be,” Rafe’s voice called out, eerily calm now.

Your heart plummeted as you realized he was inside.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your breathing as you pressed yourself deeper into the shadows.

“I know you’re here,” he said, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. “You think you can hide from me? After everything I’ve done for you?”

He was closer now. Too close.

You glanced around frantically, your eyes landing on a rusted wrench lying on the floor nearby. Gripping it tightly, you prepared yourself. You had no choice.

The moment his shadow appeared in the doorway, you swung. The wrench connected with his shoulder, and he let out a furious snarl, staggering back.

“You really think you can get away from me?” he growled, his eyes blazing with fury.

“I have to try,” you said, your voice shaking but firm.

He lunged, and you ducked, slipping past him and back out into the storm. Your legs screamed in protest, your lungs on fire, but you didn’t stop. Not until you saw the headlights.

A car was coming down the old dirt road, its beams cutting through the darkness like a beacon of hope. You stumbled into the road, waving your arms frantically.

“Help!” you screamed. “Please, help me!”

The car screeched to a halt, and the driver—a local you vaguely recognized—jumped out.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked, but before you could answer, Rafe emerged from the woods, his face twisted in rage.

“Don’t listen to her!” Rafe shouted, his tone switching to something almost pleading. “She’s confused—she doesn’t know what she’s saying!”

The driver hesitated, looking between the two of you.

“Please,” you begged, grabbing his arm. “He’s going to kill me!”

That was all it took. The man stepped between you and Rafe, his stance protective.

But Rafe didn’t flinch. He simply smiled.

“Wrong move,” Rafe muttered before pulling a knife from his belt and plunging it into the man’s side.

You screamed as the man crumpled to the ground, his blood mixing with the rain-soaked dirt.

“You see?” Rafe said, turning back to you, his knife dripping red. “There’s no one who can save you. No one who understands you like I do.”

————————————————————————

Days later, you woke up in a strange room, the faint scent of sea air filling your nose. Your wrists were bound, the rope digging into your skin.

Rafe sat in a chair nearby, his gaze soft but unwavering.

“You’re safe now,” he said, his voice tender. “No one’s going to take you away from me ever again.”

The reality settled over you like a shroud. You had escaped, but only briefly.

And now, there was no escape. Not from him. Not ever.

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anim-ttrpgs · 6 months ago

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A.N.I.M. Plans for January 2025

January 9th: Release Patreon Rewards

These will include a further updated and more finished version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, three short stories you may have heard me mention regarding the character Yvette Preux, the adventure modules, and, perhaps most excitingly, a sorta-playable preview of our upcoming new game, Silk&Dagger: A Sensible Drow RPG.

The best way to describe Silk&Dagger in a few sentences might be that it is a unique take on drow that explores what kind of society would actually result in the common tropes associated with them in fiction, and a game about slice-of-life in an oppressive underground society with strictly enforced social hierarchy and behavioral expectations for each social class. Most players will play servants, with one player playing a mistress, all trying to accomplish household tasks while each is weighed down by their own strict class expectations. Another player, a sort of co-GM representing the expectations of society at large, deducts and awards metacurrency based on how well each PC is sticking to what is expected of them. It is a black comedy, with a lot of the humor coming from just how overwhelmingly shitty this strict hierarchy-based society makes life for everyone, and the awkward hoops everyone has to jump through to keep up appearances.

The preview of Silk&Dagger coming to the patreon this month is not finished enough for me to call it fully playable, it doesn't even have proper character creation rules yet, but it does have enough rules and lore that you can get a good idea of how the game is supposed to play. Playtesters who have played this version with the help of me filling in the blanks verbally as we go have all said they really enjoyed it, though.

January 30th: Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Itchio Beta Update & Adventure Modules Release

January 2025 is when Eureka was originally supposed to be fully finished, but due to delays and, we will admit, an overambitious timeframe, Eureka just isn't fully finished this month. We will, however, be releasing what we have as an update to the free public beta on itchio. Work will still continue on Eureka as it has done, and we plan to have it fully finished by the end of this year at the absolute latest.

Along with this beta update of the rulebook, we are also releasing the beta for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Mystery Modules Vol 1., which will include the two other Eureka adventure modules that are finished enough to be fully playable: The Eye of Neptune and FORIVA: The Angel Game, both previously only available through our patreon.

And finally,

Make at Least $1,360.82

We need to make at least $1,360.82 in January to keep the studio afloat and for me to continue supporting myself primarily through A.N.I.M. At the time of writing this (January 7th, 2025), we are at $175.30/$1,360.82.

To this end, we are really banking on the Silk&Dagger preview to draw people to the patreon, and getting a lot of itchio sales for both the Eureka beta and the never-before-fully-public adventure modules in the last couple days of the month. If you want to support us and more sure we reach this goal, reblog this post and our other posts and talk about Eureka (we live-and-die on word-of-mouth), and if you want to financially support us directly, here are some links. Thank you for all of your wonderful support thus far.

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thirstkanaphan · 30 days ago

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Hello ! I'm new to Ateez, I have one question 😊 The search engine says Ateez does not have official positions apart from rap line, but I see that there are some unofficial assigned positions: Jongho being main vocalist, Sanhwa being lead vocalists, Yunwoo being main dancers, and Mingi being lead dancer. The results are a bit vague for Yeosang, what is his position ?

Hi Anon!

The unique thing about Ateez is the lack of fixed idol positions among the members. While Mingi and Hongjoong are ostensibly the main rappers, Jongho the main vocalist, and Yunho the dance leader, the emphasis on them being a performance group means that they all pretty much operate at the same high level. Almost all of them have rapped at some point (The Leaders) and all of them have sang at some point (Turbulence, Be With You). I think they've become very good at identifying who suits a certain role in a song regardless of what they've done before.

And what's interesting to me is how they've evolved over the years: San joined as a vocalist and became one of their dominant dancers/performers; Seonghwa joined as a rapper and became a vocalist (and for a time took over some of Mingi's rap parts during his hiatus). Yunho is a dancer who begins most of their songs. Wooyoung joined as a dancer but is known for having the "killing parts" in their songs and performances. Hongjoong is a rapper but his recent stint Moving Voices showed him to be an amazing vocalist. I was reminded of him doing Jongho's part in Bouncy when a few of them guested on Jonathan's show a few years ago. Jongho is the only one who seems limited to being the power vocal on the team, but his recent dance break with San during the 2024 Music Bank Global Festival confirmed that he has the chops. Mingi has used his solo projects like Tunnel and Autobahn to flex his vocal versatility.

Yeosang is often referred to as an all-rounder by the fandom: vocalist, dancer, and performer. It's well-known that he was a very popular trainee and sought-after by most companies. He chose KQ after leaving BitHit and Wooyoung followed him to Ateez. Yet since his debut in Ateez he has not received the same recognition for his talents as the other members, and there are many theories for why.

@peatbogbody has written a wonderful analysis of Yeosang's vocals and how they've been served and underserved by Ateez's discography; @storkmuffin has also shared their theories of how Yeosan'gs beauty and idol persona, and to some extent his own natural introversion and modulation to accommodate the feelings of others in his group, hindered his cultivation of the necessary competitive drive that fuels the Ateez machine. I've also written about how Yeosang has been perceived by the fandom with regards to fan service and how that's been used against him.

It's objective fact that Yeosang suffered from poor line distribution in the early years of Ateez.

@doiefy made a fantastic post about Ateez discography stats that everyone should read about how line distribution has changed over time (copied below from their post):

According to their data, "Yeosang's share of lines has increased by a net 76% since debut, while Jongho's has decreased by a net 77%"

While their data does not include GH1 and GH2, it would appear that the group has achieved a relative level of parity. The turning point appears to be 2022, about the time they released Halazia. For a song that was meant to be filler between cbs, it has become one of the most significant tracks in the Ateez discography. I don't think it's a coincidence that Yeosang was the breakout star of that era, due to the song highlighting his wonderfully low vocals.

I also love to point out what a great dancer he is and Halazia really showcases this:

I think that GH2 was also a good era for Yeosang in terms of getting better line distribution, killing moments, and dance solos. His MMA dance break is still talked about:

I recently wrote about the "re-branding" of Yeosang (and Wooyoung) after his Esquire Korea cover. To quote myself:

These two former BigHit trainees each dealt with image issues early in their careers: Yeosang's beauty dominated the external perception of him as an idol who was nothing more than a pretty face, while Wooyoung internally struggled with his physical appearance, recently exacerbated by his diagnosis of a skin condition that flares up in the heat.

In response to these pressures, Yeosang and Wooyoung took on different personas when they debuted as Ateez.

In Yeosang's case, he was "a Maltese who insists he's a Doberman." Yeosang's characterization as pure, innocent, and hapless was (and still is) reinforced by the members as part of their fan service. KQ also allegedly overruled Yeosang on his choice of a Doberman as a representative animal for their Aniteez characters and discouraged him from going to the gym, so as to preserve his slim physique.

Yeosang himself has said that he's not too bothered by the Maltese/Doberman bit; yet, at the same time, Yeosang shows his true self in his performance. He is the kind of dancer that takes up space; his movements are filled with unexpected swagger and ferocity. I noticed this during his MMA solo; again during his Sticky dance challenge, and most recently during the concert film. It was his attitude that entranced me, not (only) his visuals. Around this time, he began to bulk up, seemingly in control of his body's appearance for the first time in a while. He has solo music on the horizon and more schedules coming his way.

Whether or not you want to use the Doberman metaphor, the Esquire Korea feature feels like Yeosang reshaping his image.

Yeosang's poses draw attention to his bulging biceps, his large hands, veiny forearms, and exposed forehead. These attributes all signal traditional masculinity and almost aggressively sends the message: this is a man, not a "good boy."

My quote comes from a clip of Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung on Jaejoong's variety show. It should be noted that Jaejoong is considered the platonic ideal of a center visual. Jaejoong was allegedly blacklisted from entertainment after his lawsuit with SM led to the national elimination of the so-called idol "slave contracts" with entertainment companies, yet SM continues to use him as the visual blueprint with selecting idols. Jaejoong's compliments to Yeosang therefore feels almost double-edged: Yeosang fits the Jaejoong type, but there are certain expectations and pressures that come with this role, and consequences for stepping out of line.

Yeosang's Esquire photoshoot therefore feels transgressive and affirming, given how much he's tried to show the fandom how we've continually underestimated him.

Here's what Yeosang has said about the way fans perceive(d) him in last year's interview with GQ magazine:

He used the word "misguided" (so polite! so passive agressive!) which unfortunately still seems to be the case among certain parts of the fandom who either diminish his talents or refuse to engage with his very real and articulated desire for more dance solos, more opportunities for modeling, and the chance to sing and perform more than he already does. The latter part of the fandom, many of whom are self-professed Yeodongies, want the best for him but also seem to have a hard time accepting that this is a grown adult man with his own objectives and that keeping him confined to the "all rounder" position may do more harm than good in the long run.

If Yeosang can do everything well, then what exactly makes him stand out?

Once again, I am really optimistic about this comeback for Yeosang. I'm excited to see him further explore and define his own artistry. The Sangaissance is upon us!

#ateez #kang yeosang #ateez meta #song mingi #jeong yunho #park seonghwa #choi san #jung wooyoung #kim hongjoong #choi jongho #thirst answers

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one-of-many-journeys · 20 days ago

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Day 21

Cauldron Mu

Behind the door to the Cauldron core, the corridor was threaded with more orange-filled cables. From its oil gleam and consistency, it looked like Purgewater, or at least a component of it.

Sure enough, there was a Widemaw suspended in a light field in the centre of the core, being worked on by a mechanical arm. I set a couple of Purgewater traps between me and the machine, then overrode the core, causing the Cauldron to set its central prize free.

I thought I'd get through unscathed until a second Widemaw charged in. I doused the first, drenched by my traps, in frost bombs and rattled off a braced sharpshot, then a few standard arrows to pierce it while brittle, trying to keep focus on the vulnerable machine while dodging the attacks of its friend.

Once the first was down, I targeted one of the sparkers on the second, and it detonated at the same time as it fired off a glob of Purgewater, knocking me back. I landed well; no harm done. I struck the Widemaw at close range before tying it down and detonating its second power cell. That kept it stunned long enough to tear it apart with my spear and secure the core.

I overrode the core, downloading the overrides that came with the rest of its data, though some were corrupted and would need repair at the RCC lab.

I rode the core platform back up to the surface. A Scrounger was waiting right outside the door just waiting to be overridden with my newly-improved module. I fought the remaining two Scroungers at its side before the machine hacked past the override's effects, and I put it down too.

A Burrower next; a pair of them ran up to investigate the commotion. I overrode one and watched as the pair snapped and swung at each other.

Cute as a Watcher when they're not trying to kill you.

I headed back to my cave of spoils to rest for a few hours. I've missed out on some serious sleep these past couple of days.

I rode to the Oseram camp by the river, trading in my salvage from Shadow's Reach and Cauldron Mu. Steady profit to aid me on the journey further west.

I was hailed over by Gendas and Rushavid, who told me that their hired Oseram delvers had returned to Jagged Deep Dive since I'd cleared out the machines a fortnight past, and offered payment for my efforts. Their returns were good, but diminishing. I told them I hadn't found any further information on Gendas' precious 'tray', which seemed to disappoint the poor guy, who still held the hard drive in delicate reverence.

I made the short journey back up from the banks to Stone's Echo, hoping to find Milu there.

Indeed I did find her, deep in argument with Mian. She was trying to explain that she was not, in fact, a slave of the Carja huntress, but her student. Mian wouldn't listen, going on about the rot and ruin sure to follow barbarous outlanders. Milu cut her losses and came over to speak with me privately.

Unfortunately, Mian wasn't the only one in the village that shared her blind intolerance. Stone's Echo was particularly hostile, Milu said, thanks to its proximity to Riverwatch, from which the Red Raiders had launched their many attacks and dragged their prisoners after defeat. This place saw the worst of Carja brutality, and has not forgotten.

I told Milu about the path through the mountains now opened through the Regional Control Centre. I didn't tell her anything except where to find the entrance, knowing Talanah planned to go alone. I'm hoping she'll find the interior interesting enough to stick around with some coaxing from Varl, maybe even bump into Gaia...but I'm not sure. Her conviction to find this friend of hers seemed absolute.

Milu planned to continue her training far from her bitter little hometown, journeying north to a Hunting Ground north of Plainsong. I wished her luck on her way. She was still quite clearly awestruck by my presence, and when I praised her for being a skilled enough hunter to catch Talanah's attention, I nearly floored the kid. She'll go far, if I end up saving the world.

I stuck around for a meal, then left Stone's Echo in the early evening. The village was right by the trap-laden path said to be frequented by Shellwalker convoys. I still had that contract from Larend stuffed somewhere in my satchel. Whether he'd already sourced the parts from elsewhere or not, as far as I could tell by the clause, he was law-bound to pay up if I delivered.

Hidden in an alcove overlooking the path, I found the world's dustiest campsite. Useful provisions stockpiled, but my rest was fitful as I waited for the convoy to turn up. Still, it was rest, and I needed it.

I woke up covered in red muck to the sound of an approaching Shellwalker and its Burrower escorts.

I let one of the stone trap's loads fall free, crushing the Burrowers, then I was clear to focus fire on the Shellwalker. I snuck around it wearing my Stalker shield, setting an acid trap before landing my first strike. It stumbled into the trap then, and I loosed a few acid arrows to hasten the corroding effect. I stuck with my strategy honed in Cauldron Mu; braced shot to the shield generator, stunning it, then a flurry of explosive spikes to down it in a seething pile.

I collected the plating Larend needed for his armour—interior plating, of course, given the irreparable damage done to its exterior. I'll head back east and hand over the salvage in the morning.

Returning to Stone's Echo, I climbed to the lookout stations on a couple of the rooftops, taking in the vibrant lamp glow and flower beds, the gentle rumbles of Re's machinery at stilted rest.

I final settled down in the communal shelter late into the night. Too much sleeping today; I consider myself well and truly recovered. Now, just to wait for news from Gaia. I can't stand much more of this uncertainty.

#aloysjournal #hfw #horizon forbidden west #aloy sobeck #aloy #horizon #photomode

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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Artificial intelligence may be technology’s hottest topic—more important than electricity or fire, according to Google CEO Sundar Pichai—but another has a plausible claim to second. Digital public infrastructure, or DPI, does not loom as large as AI in the public or policymakers’ consciousness. Yet its recent adoption and impact—quieter, stealthier—are arguably as significant. According to Bill Gates, “DPI is revolutionizing the way entire nations serve their people, respond to crises, and grow their economies.” The United Nations Development Programme describes it as “a potential game-changer.”

Last October, a Global DPI Summit, the first of its kind, attracted more than 700 participants to the outskirts of Cairo; many were developing-world policymakers and entrepreneurs. They were drawn by a technology that has seen rapid uptake in countries as varied as Brazil, India, Ethiopia, Morocco, the Philippines, and Zambia. The spread of DPI has been especially noteworthy in the global south, where there are fears that the advent of AI could leave the region further behind the West in the realm of digital tech. Coming after a long litany of false promises and misapplied technology in the developing world, DPI may represent one of the first successful large-scale interventions to ease poverty, transform government services, and unleash innovation.

Beyond these specific benefits, DPI may also have broader, global ramifications. In an increasingly bifurcated technical landscape, characterized by superpower contestation and a crippling lack of cooperation, DPI offers something more constructive—the digital equivalent of the Non-Aligned Movement, perhaps, and a model for a more collaborative, inclusive digital ecosystem. The approach is not without its own risks and challenges; but done right, it could help revitalize that beleaguered and increasingly vilified phenomenon that we know as the internet.

Like many nascent technologies, DPI’s precise definition remains something of a work in progress. Conceived narrowly, the term relates to a set of publicly available tools for digital payments, identity, and data exchange, all combined in an integrated digital “stack.” More recently, a number of other domains and functions have been mooted as additions to this stack, including modules for education, agriculture, and energy conservation. Rather than a specific set of functions, then, DPI is perhaps most helpfully thought of as an approach—a “way of thinking,” as some have put it. In this broader conception, the goal of DPI is to shift certain core operations in the digital world—e.g., payments or authentication—from private to public management, so that they more closely resemble infrastructure. The World Bank calls DPI “common digital plumbing”; others draw analogies with roads or railway tracks. The underlying premise is that control of today’s digital ecosystem is overly concentrated in a handful of companies and states. DPI aims to redistribute the balance of power and provide a new foundation (“infrastructure”) for both public and private innovation.

Despite its recent prominence, DPI has arguably been around for at least a decade (even if it wasn’t always called as such—the term has really gained currency only over the last two or three years). India, the country most commonly associated with the approach, launched Aadhaar, its identity scheme, in 2009. Today, more than 1.3 billion Aadhaar cards have been issued, making it one of the more remarkable adoption stories in global technology. Estonia created X-Road, its widely adopted data exchange layer, in 2001. Brazil, another country frequently associated with the approach, launched its digital payments system, Pix, in 2020. DPI’s slow, incremental build has recently accelerated. According to a DPI map produced by David Eaves and colleagues at University College, London, over 100 countries now have (or are in the process of implementing) various forms of DPI.

There are many reasons for the enthusiasm. Policymakers have long looked to digital payments as a way to reduce “leakage” (a euphemism for corruption and other inefficiencies). By some estimates, DPI has saved the Indian government $34 billion by cutting out middlemen and reducing red tape. Advocates of DPI also cite its potential to foster inclusion—for example, by bringing the unbanked into the formal economy and enabling low- or zero-fee micropayments for small businesses. DPI has also benefited from good timing: Its star rose considerably during COVID, amid a general move toward a cashless economy.

Perhaps the biggest, if often unrecognized, catalyst for the approach has been a shifting geopolitical climate, especially as it has affected global technology governance over the last decade or so. Once upon a time, decisions about the internet were primarily reached through technocratic consensus, at bodies like the Internet Engineering Task Force, the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers (ICANN), or the International Telecommunication Union. This largely—if not entirely—depoliticized approach meant that technical standards and frameworks were chosen mostly on their merits, rather than because of national or ideological interest. (ICANN’s early 2000s adoption of international domain names to support non-Latin scripts was a good example.) That approach has all but broken down. Technology is increasingly central to public life, and technology policy has by extension become an instrument of statecraft. The internet and its underlying infrastructure are today subjects of heated geopolitical contestation, battles between what Columbia law professor Anu Bradford calls competing “digital empires.”

China and the United States are the biggest of these empires (Bradford also lists the European Union), and their increasingly zero-sum struggle to dominate virtually every aspect of technology—from standards to chips to privacy—has resulted in something of a digital Cold War. A new “virtual Berlin Wall” has arisen, forcing countries to choose sides between the unregulated mercantilism of American Big Tech and a statist, surveillance-based Chinese model. Beijing offers the developing world favorable financing and subsidized equipment, but these gifts (part of the country’s Digital Silk Road initiative) come laden with perils such as a loss of privacy and national autonomy. The alternative is often hardly more palatable: American tech companies pose very much the same risks. As Patrick Achi, the former prime minister of Ivory Coast, recently explained, countries like his are caught on the horns of a dilemma. “We are like subjects, without good choices,” he said. “Our digital futures are being determined in the big power centers.”

On this scorched landscape, DPI offers a welcome alternative—a potential “third way,” as the Dutch politician and commentator Marietje Schaake recently put it, a means for countries to chart their own course when it comes to managing data, digitizing government, and customizing applications to local needs. A budding ecology in Bengaluru now offers countries open-source modules and technical assistance to implement locally managed DPI solutions. These include the Modular Open Source Identity Platform, which allows countries to repurpose code for digital identities, and the recently launched “DPI-as-a-packaged-solution,” or DaaS, designed for “plug-and-play” implementation. Estonia’s open-source X-Road is likewise used by over 20 countries, including Cambodia, Brazil, Namibia, and Madagascar.

Such examples of modular, customizable, and domestically controlled software are particularly useful for smaller countries that have less technical and financial capacity. (Trinidad and Tobago, for example, is the first country to implement DaaS.) They make it easier to digitize economies, and they reduce the risks of superpower dependency. Because many of the tools are open source and interoperable, they also foster collaboration. Regional groupings such as the Gulf Cooperation Council, Association of Southeast Asian Nations, and the Caribbean Community have implemented or are considering cross-border integrations of identity and payment systems. India’s Unified Payments Interface has likewise been adopted in countries as varied as Nepal, Singapore, and France.

Technical integration is often symbiotic with political cooperation. By strengthening regional blocs and alliances, DPI may challenge the existing geopolitical order. For developing countries thus far at the mercy of superpowers and Big Tech, it holds out the prospects of achieving the much sought-after (yet often chimeric) goals of “digital sovereignty” and “digital independence.”

The DPI movement is young, still inchoate. As the approach gathers steam, its own limitations and challenges will become more apparent. Detractors point to the possibility of data breaches and other privacy violations, the risk that greater digitalization of public services could marginalize populations lacking technical literacy, and the danger that public investment could distort competition and markets. Every technical intervention represents a delicate balance of risk and opportunity; advocates of the approach argue that the right policies and governance frameworks can help bring out the positive potential of the technology.

The stakes of getting the balance right are huge—for the developing world, of course, but perhaps for the entire global digital ecosystem as well. The advent of AI has intensified geopolitical rivalries, and with them the risks of fragmentation, exclusion, and hyper-concentration that are already so prevalent. The prospects of a “Splinternet” have never appeared more real. The old dream of a global digital commons seems increasingly quaint; we are living amid what Yanis Varoufakis, the former Greek finance minister, calls “technofeudalism.”

DPI suggests it doesn’t have to be this way. The approach’s emphasis on loosening chokeholds, fostering collaboration, and reclaiming space from monopolies represents an effort to recuperate some of the internet’s original promise. At its most aspirational, DPI offers the potential for a new digital social contract: a rebalancing of public and private interests, a reorientation of the network so that it advances broad social goals even while fostering entrepreneurship and innovation. How fitting it would be if this new model were to emerge not from the entrenched powers that have so long guided the network, but from a handful of nations long confined to the periphery—now determined to take their seats at the table of global technology.

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thesims3help · 2 years ago

Text

Sims 3 - Gameplay enhancing mods: Sim, Social Interactions, Social Groups & More.

A category-based mod post. Mods and links previously featured in our Masterlist. All credits to their rightful owners.

Categories include: traits, romance, interactions, social groups, behaviour, lifetime wishes, illnesses, new abilities and similar related mods.

Autonomous Fun In The Sun

Bring "Mysterious Drinks" (Chemistry Set Potions) To Others

Ask To Join Fishing

Advice Social Interactions

Better Greet

Deep Conversations

Sleep on the couch, new interaction

Prank Calls

Sim Like Evil Interaction by Kuree (simlogical.com)

More Negative Moodlets

The Sims 3 Awkward moments & Humiliations "Immediate Interactions"

The Sims 3 Demonic Powers

The Sims 3 Passion And Romance

The Sims 3 V*olence And Aggression

The Sims 3 Disasters & Blessings "Immediate Interactions"

Have Sim Arrested Mod

Break into house Mod *ARREST UPDATE*

Back to Nature -- Lifetime Wishes for Farmers and Outdoorspeople

One with Nature

Better Rich and Famous Lifetime Wish - 1.67

nraas Vector - custom Disease mod; must download main Vector mod + wanted modules for diseases.

Enhanced Hospitals(Updated 30/1/23)

No Social Groups

No Rebel Social Group Influence from Adding Herb to Meal

More/Less Opportunities, No Answer Phone, Call Anytime, No auto smartphone tasks

nraas - Woohooer

Better Polyamory

Retuned Attraction System

More/Less Attraction Calls & Love Letters - 4 Flavors

Romantic Socials TYAE - Same Sex - Revised

More Traits for All Ages

Hidden Traits Unlocked

Hypochondriac Trait (Scripting Mod) [For Testing] - A Simlogical First by Sims MX

Higher/Lower LTR, Unhidden Traits, AllTraits for All Ages

Mod The Sims - **UPDATED: 26-July** Cigarette Smoking Mod - OVERHAUL

Let Me Take a Selfie (Update 9/3/23) - Pets Fix

Sunscreen

Acne Mod (Update 7/22/23) - Version 2.2

The Journal Mod

Take Sims To Court - Sue Sims, Become a Lawyer, Have Court Weddings and More!

Social Clubs Mod (+ banking) - Grow Memberships, Push Activities, Make Bank Accounts and More!

Truely Unique Sims

9 New Death Types

Just Sit (script mod)

Aging Manager

Faster shower, use toilet and brush teeth mod, including slower versions!

Relieve Bladder in the Shower

Pee Here (Scripting Mod) by Sims MX (simlogical.com) - Males pee on terrain.

Unrestricted Sponge Baths TYAE

Change At Home After Work

More waking up time for your sims, available in 5 cool flavors!

More/Less Alien Abductions

Lower/Higher Lifetime Reward Prices

Herb Nausea Mods

Midlife Crisis Tuning Mod

Weddings for inactives (new interaction)

Nosy sim interactions

#the sims 3 #sims 3 mods #ts3 mods #post 5

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burstfoot · 6 months ago

Note

I'm still pretty new to Arknights, what's the thing with the bad alt? :o

Okay so back in 2021, Hypergryph had their first summer event that had a limited-run unit - for this banner, the big shiny unit was Ch’en the Holungday, who was controversial for numerous reasons:

First off, Arknights is supposed to be a fairly grim and serious story, and turning Ch’en, one of the stories main characters at the time during Arc 1 into a lazy swimsuit character seemed both out of character for her and like an easy cash grab by the devs.

To double on how silly she is, her codename is just a pun of her race (lung) and the word Holiday - a real tone shift to her grim story in Arc 1.

At that time, people only expected the CNY and two anniversary limited banners per year, and adding an extra limited banner frustrated people because it was very obviously trying to get people to break the bank through FOMO.

Secondly, Ch’en alter’s E2 artwork is really bad. Her E0 artwork is maybe a little revealing for Ch’en but is fairly tame for gacha swimsuit standards, but in her E2 art she’s in nothing but a minuscule bikini - though, most of the people in a fuss didn’t really care about that, they cared that her face looked really bad, drawing a lot of comparisons that she looked like Blaze instead of Ch’en. This led to them having to update her art in game! (Old artwork on the left.)

Third, she was crazy busted at the time, sometimes called the best unit in the game - having high damage, high defense shred, a passive slow while her skill was active and her skill being ammo-based, so you could often just set it and forget it without having to time skill activations. Her kit is also relatively uninspired - her first two skills are really just less powerful versions of her third skill, in my opinion, though I don’t know if that’s a common complaint.

Time has been a bit more kind to her - with Lone Trail, she got this beautiful L2D skin pictured above! As well, as alter shenanigans get more silly with dual-alter banners like So Long, Adele and limited alters of limited units like Wis’adel, her initial drama doesn’t seem as big of a deal. At this point, summer banners seem more or less normal.

Also, powercreep has gotten out of hand that she really isn’t that viable of a unit anymore - she does do good damage, but Młynar does better damage, has a passive taunt and massive HP pool, and almost costs 3x less to deploy than she does. I wouldn’t even really say she’s a top ten unit anymore, maybe not even top 20 - you just don’t see her used often much anymore so she’s mostly forgotten about! But I did use her to clear Big Sad Lock and some other fights in Chapter 8 & 9, so she’s served me well.

One last fun fact: she’s getting a module with the upcoming Nymph event, but her first talent has been bugged and doubled the listed effect since she was released, to the point that her 5th potential actually doesn’t upgrade her talent at all (Exu has a similar thing with her S3 being bugged and being significantly more powerful than it’s supposed to be).

What’s really funny though is that her module’s second upgrade changed it to be what it actually does in the code, but they didn’t go back and fix this bug or anything so her second module upgrade literally only changes the displayed text and nothing about her actual stats. If you want an actual upgrade to her talent you need to upgrade it to level 3!!

#arknights #ch’en the holungday #it’s hard to stay mad about chalter in 2025 but I do wish we got her Victoria or sui arc looks as alters instead!#burstmail

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orangameelectronics · 9 months ago

Video

youtube

Maximize Your Productivity with a Slim Power Bank Portable Charger 20000mAh

So, you're on the hunt for a power bank that will keep you charged up and ready to take on the day, right? Well, look no further because I've got just the thing for you - a slim Power Bank Portable Charger with a whopping 20000mAh capacity. Let me break down all the amazing features of this bad boy so you can see why it's the perfect companion for your busy lifestyle.

## Cell Type: 20000mAh 1260110*2

This power bank is equipped with a high-capacity 20000mAh cell type, which means you'll have plenty of juice to keep your devices powered up throughout the day. Whether you're out and about running errands or traveling for work, you can count on this power bank to keep your devices charged and ready to go.

## Support Display, But No LED Lightning

One cool feature of this power bank is that it supports display, allowing you to easily check the remaining battery life at a glance. While it doesn't have LED lightning, the display feature is a convenient way to make sure you never run out of power when you need it most.

## Input: 5V/2.1A; Output: 5V/2.1A

With a 5V/2.1A input and output, this power bank delivers fast charging speeds to keep your devices powered up in no time. Whether you're charging your smartphone, tablet, or other gadgets, you can trust that this power bank will get the job done quickly and efficiently.

## Built-in 4 Different Charging Cables

One of the best features of this power bank is the built-in 4 different charging cables, which means you'll never have to worry about forgetting your charging cables at home. With everything you need right at your fingertips, you can maximize your productivity and stay connected wherever you go.

So, there you have it - a detailed look at how a slim Power Bank Portable Charger 20000mAh can help you maximize your productivity and keep your devices powered up throughout the day. With its high capacity, fast charging speeds, and versatile interfaces, this power bank is the perfect companion for your busy lifestyle. Say goodbye to low battery anxiety and hello to endless power with this must-have gadget by your side.

#youtube #Power bank 5000mah #Power banks capacity #Power bank 10000mah #Power bank charger #Power bank for laptop #Power bank iPhone #Power bank Samsung #Power bank Apple #Power bank phone #Power bank xiaomi #Power bank quick charge #Power bank module #Power bank plane #Power bank in flight #Power bank solar #Power bank solar charger #Power bank case

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rachellesedai · 8 months ago

Text

The Seeker's Prayer

Here is part two of my story for the @inklings-challenge 2024!

Team: Lewis Genre: Space Travel Themes: Instruct the ignorant/Pray for living and dead Word Count: 3,229 [PART 1] | 3,839 [PART 2]

PART 2

Zavion awoke with a start, his datapad on his chest. A yellow blinking light indicated its power cell was drained. How long had he been asleep? The lights in the reading room were at a dim glow. The room was silent apart from the ever present soft whirr of the server banks. He stretched aching muscles and staggered to his feet. Carefully, he secured the manuscript he had requested, returning it to stasis. With a yawn, he gathered his few belongings and took a step toward the curtained entrance of the alcove. A flurry of urgent whispers anchored him to the spot. Shuffling footsteps followed a hushed exchange too low for him to make out. He peered out between the curtains and saw two emissaries with hoods drawn up hurrying down the hall.

Zavion watched as they approached a transportlift across the wide passage and entered a complex code. Zavion waited a long moment after the two had entered the lift and departed. He should really go back to his quarters and go to bed. Morning and another day of filing plastisheets would be here all too soon. With a sigh, Zavion walked over to the lift. He knew a mystery such as this would keep him awake for whatever was left of the night.

Thanks to a long afternoon helping Emissary Ilana Karri repair several malfunctioning transportlifts, he knew the admin code to recall the last destination. His hand trembled slightly as he punched in the code and entered the lift. His stomach dropped as the module descended swiftly, plunging deep into the mountain. The doors slid open onto a dark stone corridor that curved slightly to the left, making any guess to where it led impossible. The light from the lift cast a weak glow, but there was no other source of illumination. Zavion hesitated. He dug through his pockets and found his small reading light. Switching it on, he took a deep breath and entered the corridor. The lift slid shut behind him and he was alone in the dark.

Zavion reached out and placed one hand on the wall next to the lift. Holding his light high with his other hand, he followed the curve of the passage, winding ever deeper into the depths below the library. Voices brought him to a halt and he extinguished his light, feeling his way along until he could see a small group clustered in a large, open gallery carved out of the rock.

The central figure was reciting something, words that sent a tremor through him even before he recognized them. The man was speaking in High Dakari, a language only found in the Empire’s oldest records and no longer spoken by any living race. Zavion had studied it, like every serious scholar, but he had never expected to hear it outside of classroom recitations.

Translating in his head, he recognized a few familiar phrases. It was the Canticle of Avrum spoken in high chant, but a longer, more complex version than any he had ever heard. The ancient prayer was attributed to the Blessed Prophet himself. Its chief importance was in it being the oldest record of the Order’s mandate to spread throughout the galaxy and seek new species.

Zavion shook his head. What was going on here? Why were these emissaries meeting in the middle of the night? He edged closer. The rock wall was cool on his skin as he pressed against it. The chanting trailed off and silence reined for a few moments. Zavion held his breath.

A robed figure stood and raised his hands. “Let us pray together,” he said. Zavion held in a gasp. He knew that voice. Narrowing his eyes, he strained to make out details. It had to be Steward Ebrim. The man’s build was right and the voice was unmistakable. The group knelt on the hard ground and began to speak in turn. They were calling out to the creator, asking for his help, praising his goodness.

Zavion put a hand to his mouth. This was more than just a few brother emissaries being a little too obsessed with tradition. This could actually be a resurgence of the ancient Cult of the Seekers. Indignation and disbelief warred within him. The group started singing, a haunting melody that echoed off the walls of the corridor. He turned and fled. The last thing he wanted was to be caught spying by a group of fanatics.

Safe back in his quarters, Zavion paced the room. The situation was unheard of. What was he supposed to do? Reporting the aberration would definitely get him the transfer he wanted. Zavion flushed, ashamed of the thought as soon as it formed. He took a deep breath and tried to reconcile what he had seen with what he knew of the emissaries he had met since coming to Karatu.

Whatever their religious inclinations, the people here were good. Perhaps a little boring and scholarly for his taste, but they were certainly not rebels fomenting an overthrow of the Empire. He did not want to cause a scandal and throw the entire library into turmoil. Who knew how many reputations would be destroyed or how much scholarly work discredited?

“As long as I don’t let on I know their secret everything will be fine,” Zavion said to himself, “No one knows I saw anything. I’ll forget it ever happened.” With this decision made, Zavion changed into his nightclothes, climbed into bed, and proceeded to think about nothing else.

Zavion almost jumped out of his skin the next morning when Davix clapped his hand on his shoulder as he picked at the sweet bread he had brought back to the table for morning meal.

“Where were you last night?” Davix asked.

“What?” Zavion almost choked on a crumb of sweet bread, his mouth suddenly dry. “I wasn’t anywhere. Why?”

“We were going to play a game of stones before nightfall, but you weren’t in your rooms.” He laughed. “You weren’t poking around parts of the library you shouldn’t, were you?”

Zavion shook his head, his heart racing as he feigned what he hoped looked like casual indifference. “Nothing so interesting. I fell asleep in the reading room. I’m afraid I was much more concerned with Ebrim catching me out after curfew and quite forgot about our game.”

Davix shrugged. “No matter. We can try again tonight.” He paused, as if he were going to ask something else, but only shook his head and departed. Zavion breathed a sigh of relief, but the feeling didn’t last long. His datapad beeped and Zavion looked to find a message from Steward Ebrim asking him to report to his study after morning meal.

Zavion disposed of the sweet bread, unable to eat another bite and drank down the last of his hot caf. He set the cup down with a trembling hand and forced himself to walk calmly to the steward’s study. Once there, Zavion knocked and waited for the man’s soft “enter” before opening the door.

Steward Ebrim sat at his desk, rifling through papers. He did not look up as Zavion entered, but continued to sort through the large stack of documents in front of him. Zavion stood straight, sweaty hands tightening into fists inside the sleeves of his robe.

“Sit,” Ebrim finally said, “I assume you have some questions.”

“About what?” Zavion stammered, folding himself into the chair opposite Ebrim.

“Don’t play me for the fool, my boy,” Ebrim said with a sharp look that seem to pin Zavion like a fly caught in a spider’s gaze, “I know you were there last night, in the catacombs.”

Zavion slumped. “How?”

“I take care to erase all record of our comings and goings on evenings like last night. An extra lift transport with your borrowed admin code was a bit obvious.”

“Oh.” Zavion sucked in a breath. He stared at Ebrim, who looked back calmly as if they were discussing an interesting point in a text they were translating. “Why?” he blurted out, “Why risk so much?”

Ebrim sighed. “A strong desire to know the truth and live accordingly.” He raised an eyebrow, his ears drooping as Zavion’s mouth fell open.

“What truth? There is no scientific proof that the creator exists. Even if it is the tradition of our Order to attribute our mandate to the Prophet Avrum, no one actually believes he communed with an all-powerful creator.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ebrim said, “The number of people who do believe is precisely why what you witnessed last night is so dangerous. I half expected the Matori to be on our doorstep this morning.”

Zavion blinked at his mention of the Empire’s elite shock troops. “The Matori?” He almost laughed, but the sound died in his throat at the sobering look in Ebrim’s eyes. “The situation might merit academic censure… a review of the participants work, perhaps…” he trailed off.

Ebrim shook his head. “To the Empire, the Seekers, beings throughout the galaxy who believe in the original mission of Avrum, are a real and present threat. They give no quarter when eradicating any who sympathize with our beliefs.”

Zavion took a shuddering breath. “Do you advocate overthrowing the Empress?”

“No.” Ebrim straightened. “We would like the truth to come out, of course, but mostly we want to be able to worship the Creator in peace.”

Zavion grasped his head in his hands. “What truth?” he almost shouted.

Ebrim tapped his fingers on the desk, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose it will do no harm to tell you at this point.” He leaned forward. “What we are taught about early galactic history is the barest outline of the events surrounding the foundation of the Empire. What most do not know is that we possess an abundance of records, both from that time period and the centuries following its early expansion.”

Zavion shook his head, the scholar within him offended that the texts he had spent so much time looking for might actually exist somewhere. “Why would the Empire suppress such knowledge?”

“Because it does not fit their narrative of how they gained supremacy. It is true that Avrum lived on Dakardr and his brother, Lexrun, was a leader of their people. However, Lexrun was only a prominent figure in what was a cooperative government of the planets orbiting the star, Alestria. It was Avrum who was held in high regard, even in the neighboring star systems. His writings were carefully preserved by his followers, the original emissaries. These men went out and spread the word of Avrum, which was a message of hope and a quest for something more.

As belief in the Creator spread, the Order became more established. They kept records on every species they encountered and soon had amassed more knowledge than any individual planet or system possessed. At first, they were consulted as intermediaries when disputes broke out between different groups. Systems came together, some more powerful than others. Dynasties rose and fell, but the Order remained. Then about six hundred years after the time of Avrum, the leaders of Dakardr decided that since their planet held all the knowledge, they should also hold all the power. Some among the emissaries agreed and allowed the government to use their knowledge of all the other species to conquer them.

As Dakardr’s power grew, the Order was relegated to a supporting role, and, as governments are wont to do, its ruling cooperative devolved into tyranny and the first true Emperor of Alestria was crowned.”

Zavion rubbed his forehead, trying to absorb this radically different version of what he held to be the history of his people. “Even if this is true, if the Empire’s rise to power wasn’t as clean and simple as most think, what does that have to do with your belief in the creator? How does it change the historical fact that Avrum was simply a wise man who brought people together and encouraged them to respect each species’ culture as adding to, instead of taking away from, their own?”

“Because the Empire hid more than its dubious beginnings,” Ebrim said, slapping his desk, “They suppressed the writings of Avrum himself, which give a completely different perspective on what our Order originally believed and what our very purpose is.”

“And what purpose is that? What are you seeking?”

Ebrim shook his head. “I’ve said enough. Much more and you won’t be able to claim ignorance.” He paused, his ears twitching. “What do you intend to do?”

Zavion blinked. “Do?”

“Are you going to report us to the Empire? I understand if you feel it your duty, but I hope I have gained enough respect in your eyes that you would inform me of your intentions.”

“I would never…” Zavion stammered, “I don’t agree with what you are doing, but I see no need to involve the Matori.”

“Very well.” Ebrim eyed him with interest. “I would ask you not to tell anyone about what we have discussed here or what you saw last night.”

Zavion stood and gave the steward a formal bow. “I give you my word,” he said, “but…” he paused, looking away, “May I ask more questions at a later date?”

“Of course,” Ebrim said, a hint of a smile in his eyes. “For now, you should get back to work. It wouldn’t do for today to seem any more unusual.”

Zavion nodded and left the study, his head in a whirl.

Zavion completed his daily routine, meticulously proofing plastisheets, packing them up for transport, and joining two other emissaries to help prepare the evening meal. He attended to each task with a laser focus that blocked out all other thoughts. He was beginning to think he might actually be able to proceed as if everything were normal when Davix showed up at his door for their game of stones.

Zavion pulled his only other chair over to his desk and Davix set up the pieces on the checkered board. They played a few moves in silence, Zavion losing two pieces to a careless mistake.

Davix eyed him as he collected the two white stones. “Head not in the game tonight?”

“I’m just tired,” Zavion replied.

Davix pushed an upright gray stone forward. “You were closeted with Steward Ebrim for quite a while this morning,” he said with a studied indifference.

The hairs on the back of Zavion’s arms stood on end. The statement seemed too pointed to be coincidental. He shrugged, moving an oval pearlescent stone to counter Davix’s move. “He found out I’ve been looking into a transfer.”

“You’ve been begging anyone who will listen,” Davix laughed. “Was he extolling the virtues of the library and the importance of the old ways?”

Zavion nodded, wondering what he meant by old ways. Did he suspect just how traditional Ebrim’s beliefs were? “It’s not that I don’t think it’s important,” Zavion said, trying to sound as annoyed as usual, “It’s just not for me.”

Davix nodded slowly, returning his attention to the game and Zavion’s shoulders relaxed. He was being paranoid. There was no double meaning behind his friend’s comment. He just needed a good night’s sleep and everything would go back to normal.

The next day was anything but normal. Zavion awoke to the entire library buzzing like an overturned skimmet’s nest. The great hall was deserted, plates of half-finished meals left abandoned, chairs pushed out or toppled over. Emissaries rushed to and fro down the passageways. Some gathered in tiny knots of heated conversation, others carried large satchels of belongings as if they were leaving on foot. Not a few glared at him when he tried to approach.

Panic rising in his chest, Zavion hurried to Steward Ebrim’s study. The door was ajar. He pushed it open to find Ebrim vaporizing a small pile of plastisheets.

“What is happening?” Zavion demanded from the doorway.

Ebrim’s eyes snapped up. “Oh. It’s you,” he said, waving Zavion forward, “I was about to come looking for you.”

“What?” Zavion’s knees wobbled as he made his way forward and grasped the back of the chair he had occupied the morning before.

“The Matori are coming,” Ebrim said, his voice crisp and matter of fact, “They will be here by nightfall.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Zavion stammered, his grip tightening until his knuckles whitened.

“I know,” Ebrim replied, “Which is why I wanted to speak to you. I need you to do something for me.”

Zavion nodded, his throat tightening on the millions of questions that flooded his mind. “Of course,” he choked out, “What do you need me to do?”

“Take this.” Ebrim removed the Star of Avrum from around his neck and held it out to Zavion. He accepted with trembling hands.

“I don’t understand.”

“Switch it with yours,” Ebrim said, turning back to his desk, “No one will notice. They are all identical to the naked eye.”

Zavion did as he was told. “What is special about this one?”

“It contains a data crystal with the writings of Avrum and the location of where we have hidden copies off all the ancient texts. That is what we have been doing here, preserving the knowledge before it is lost forever. If you find another Seeker pass it on, if not… Knowing the knowledge is out there will be enough.”

“Why are you trusting me with this?” Zavion swallowed. “And why can’t one of you take it out of here?”

Ebrim shook his head. “It is too late for that, my boy. The Matori will ferret out every last one of us. They will never suspect you, a fresh recruit who has been pestering every department imaginable for a transfer out of this ancient pile.” His eyes twinkled. “As for why I trust you…” Ebrim smiled, his ears perking up. “You have a good heart and you want to believe, I can feel it.”

Zavion held the pendant in both hands. “How do you know? That the Matori are coming,” he clarified.

“We intercepted a transmission late last night. It was the Ahiri.”

“Davix?” Zavion gasped. “It couldn’t be…” he faltered as he remembered his friend’s odd comments and the strange feeling he’d gotten the night before. His knees felt weak. “I don’t want to believe it,” he said, scrubbing at his eyes, “How could he betray you like that?”

“I told you. Most see the Seekers as subversives.” Ebrim shook his head. “Poor man, he probably felt he was doing his duty.” He sighed. “What’s done is done. Do not worry about him now. He is locked in his quarters where he can do no more harm.”

Zavion sank into the chair. “What are you going to do? Is there time for you to escape?”

“No. Some may try, but I am the Steward and the leader of our fellowship of Seekers. They will not rest until they find me.”

“What about me?” Zavion flushed, his cheeks hot. “Davix knows I have been spending a great deal of time under your tutelage.”

“Not enough,” Ebrim said, “There is so much I want to tell you, but there simply isn’t time. Remember this. We are seekers because we are looking for something.”

“What?” Zavion asked, leaning forward.

Ebrim shook his head. “There is too much to do. As for you, tell the Matori the truth about what you saw, even what I told you the next morning. Just keep what is in the star I gave you a secret. You will understand when you read it.” He put a firm hand on Zavion’s shoulder. “I pray that the Creator keep you safe.”

The next few hours played out much as Steward Ebrim had predicted. The Matori, fierce in their unadorned black armor descended upon the library, sealing exits and sequestering its inhabitants. No corner was left unchecked.

Zavion waited in his quarters, pacing up and down the small room. He had been questioned briefly, faring better than most, it seemed. Zavion shivered, unable to forget the screams that had echoed down the halls as he was escorted to his interview. He had done as Ebrim instructed, though shame had burned within him, fear had frozen it out. His rambling answers had satisfied the dour Matori, and he was sent back to his room like a naughty child. As he left, he had heard Davix’s name linked with his and the thought that the man had vouched for him made his stomach roil.

The next morning everyone was herded into the great hall. Zavion watched, a painful lump in his throat, as the Matori carted away racks of servers and cartons of stasis modules. His fellow emissaries were battered and bruised, some staring with vacant eyes, others openly weeping. Davix was nowhere to be seen.

A tall Matori with a red slash across his helmet strode into the room. “Bring forth the accused,” he bellowed.

Steward Ebrim and several other emissaries were marched in, their hands bound in flexicuffs. Zavion sucked in a breath. The prisoners all bore signs of a night spent enduring the Matori’s brutal interrogation methods. Bile rose as they were lined up against the wall.

This can’t be happening, Zavion thought. The tall Matori read something aloud about crimes against the Empire, but all Zavion heard was a high-pitched buzzing in his ears. The room seemed to spin and blur. The Matori raised their weapons. He couldn’t turn away.

Ebrim held his head high, his eyes still shining with cheerful confidence. He’s going to meet his creator, Zavion thought as weapons flashed and silence reigned.

Months passed before Zavion even dared to look at the data crystal. Finally given leave after his “ordeal,” he caught a ship home and trekked far out into the wooded wilderness beyond the tiny village he had hoped to never see again. Far from prying eyes, he spent several weeks translating the clue to the code to unlock the files. At last, with trembling hands, he accessed the writings of Avrum that Ebrim and the others had given their lives for.

In the stillness, I heard the Creator’s voice and he said, “Go and seek among the varied creatures of the cosmos. Make note of their stories and traditions, and in time you will find the blessed world, made holy by my hand. Its people I have anointed and have entrusted to them the truth that may know me and learn my ways. This sign I give to you, that you may know you have found my people. This blessed world is the single place in the vast universe where I, the Creator, entered into his own creation, spirit and matter, two natures, but one God.”

Zavion took a shuddering breath. He did not yet understand, but his heart was burning within his chest and he knew he wanted to believe. He wanted to know the Creator. He was a Seeker, like Ebrim. In a low whisper, he began to pray.

#inklingschallenge #team lewis #genre: space travel #theme: instruct #theme: pray #story: complete #rachel writes

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getsunpower · 1 year ago

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Powering Your Home: Harnessing Solar Batteries for Efficiency, Savings, and Environmental Sustainability

Whether you're just dipping your toes into solar power or have been harnessing its benefits for years, integrating a solar battery can revolutionize your setup's efficiency and adaptability. These batteries capture excess energy from your panels, ensuring a continuous power supply even on overcast days or after sunset.

Types of Solar Batteries: There are four primary types of solar batteries used for storing solar energy:

Lead-acid batteries: With a history spanning over 150 years, these are the most established option. While they are the least expensive, they have a shorter lifespan (typically 3-5 years) and require regular maintenance, including checking electrolyte levels. Despite their use of toxic lead, lead-acid batteries are suitable for solar products.

Lithium-ion batteries: Widely favored for solar energy storage, lithium-ion batteries boast high energy density, a prolonged lifespan (around 10-15 years), and minimal self-discharge. Although they are the priciest option, they demand minimal maintenance.

Nickel-cadmium (Ni-Cd) batteries: Renowned for their durability and longevity (up to 20 years), Ni-Cd batteries withstand extreme temperatures. However, they are less efficient than lithium-ion batteries, have a higher self-discharge rate, and their use of toxic cadmium makes them less eco-friendly.

Flow batteries: Predominantly utilized for grid storage rather than residential solar systems, flow batteries utilize liquid electrolytes circulated through the battery during charging and discharging. While they offer potential for a lengthy lifespan (20 years or more) and are considered environmentally friendly, they are still in the developmental stage and are more costly than other options. for more details check out the full blog: https://getsunpower.in/solar-batteries-for-efficiency-savings/

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aneurinallday · 17 days ago

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2099

2.8 = THE LIGHT

They’ve talked themselves into silence - every avenue of possibility has been explored and abandoned, and there’s nothing left to say.

Maura sits defeated on the floor of the stasis module, bathed in the blue glow of the empty sarcophagi surrounding her, staring at the tangled cables. With her thumb, she absent-mindedly twists her wedding ring around and around on her finger, not realising that it’s leaving a red mark on her skin.

She hears Daniel’s boots approaching, but doesn’t look up. He sits down beside her.

“I’ve spoken to the others,” he says quietly, “There’s no way I can restore the other simulations I deleted, but Ciaran agreed we should try and build another simulation within this one. That way, we can at least have some variety in our routine. So that’s something, at least.”

“Good.”

It’s the 27th of October 2099 - a day whose coming they once dreaded, but which no longer holds any meaning in a simulation that goes on forever - and the mood onboard the Prometheus is one of resignation. Outside the stasis room’s windows, the stars continue to rotate in endless, maddening circles.

“The simulation might only be powerful enough to contain one or two people at a time, so we’d have to take it in turns,” Daniel continues, “Ciaran’s suggested that the three of us set up shop in the archive room, so we can make use of all the data banks and computing power there. You never know, we might find some useful templates knocking around in storage.”

“And what about the other option?” Maura doesn’t lift her gaze.

“They all said no. Deleting ourselves is tantamount to suicide, and they’d rather stay conscious, at least for the first few years - or however long it takes to start going insane.”

“I can’t blame them,” she answers, “If we put ourselves to sleep, we don’t know if we’d ever wake up again. If we stay conscious, we can at least try to make some sort of life on this ship, however miserable.”

He doesn’t answer, but nor does he need to. She can feel how utterly, overwhelmingly exhausted he is. His life, for so long, has been an interminable cycle of trying and failing, of having his hopes crushed and his pure love unrequited. He’s tired to the soul.

“I just want this to end,” he whispers. “I just want to wake up next to you again.”

She slips her fingers between his own and holds his hand tight.

In that instant, they both feel the same thing - a slight shift in the floor beneath them, almost a shudder, like a chill running up a spine.

“Did we hit something?” she asks wearily.

“I don’t think so. There would’ve been an alarm.”

Rising, they leave the stasis room and head for the cafeteria. The other passengers, likewise alarmed, are already converging there.

“Did you feel it too?” Olek asks nervously.

“We all did,” says Ángel.

They’re instinctively braced in expectation of another jolt, but it never comes.

“Maybe something broke off,” Daniel suggests, “One of the modules that was knocked loose…”

“We’re moving!” Ramiro suddenly gasps.

“Tonto, we’ve always been moving,” Ángel replies.

“No, listen! Can’t you hear it?”

They stand motionless and silent, listening intently. At first, all they hear is the normal sound of the pipes in the walls, and the buzz of electricity in the overhead lights. But then they hear a new noise - a humming. Maura places her hand flat on the wall, and feels the subtle vibrations running through it.

The engines are on. The Prometheus has awakened.

Daniel stares at a nearby port-hole.

“The stars look different from a moment ago,” he says, “I think we’re turning.”

The group rushes to the observation deck to see the truth for themselves. Sure enough, the golden halo of the black hole has grown larger - large enough that they can clearly see the cosmos stretching and distorting around it.

“We’ve changed course?” Maura wonders aloud, “But how…?”

She looks around at the passengers’ awe-struck faces, and realises that Eyk is not among them.

“Where’s Eyk?”

“He’s gone,” Ciaran’s voice comes from behind her, dull and subdued, “He’s taken control of the ship. He’s flying us into the black hole.”

She turns to look at him, aghast.

“He’s done what you could never bring yourself to do,” Ciaran continues, “He’s letting go of his dream.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me. And before you ask why I didn’t say anything, he also told me not to tell anyone. He knew you’d try and stop him, Maura.”

“So this is it, then,” Ángel says, “We’re going to wake up. Finally.”

Maura stares in horror at the black circle of nothingness drawing ever nearer.

“My God,” she says, “I have to see him.”

She turns towards the door, but finds Ciaran standing in her path, Shell in hand. She freezes.

“I’m sorry,” Ciaran says, “I can’t let you leave. Eyk said not to let anyone stop him.”

“Use that thing on Maura and I’ll kill you,” Daniel says.

Ciaran doesn’t budge.

“If he doesn’t die, she doesn’t wake up. If she doesn’t wake up, neither do we. It’s as simple as that. No-one leaves this room.”

Maura takes a step forward, and Ciaran instinctively takes a half-step back, nervously fidgeting the device between his thumb and fingers.

“Let me pass, Ciaran.”

“Please,” Ciaran says wearily, “I don’t want to grow old in here. None of us do. I’ve got so many things left to build, so many things I still want to accomplish. Please just…stop.”

Not caring about the Shell, Maura walks forward and gently takes Ciaran’s head between her hands, cupping his face.

“We’re going home - all of us,” she says, “You and Sebastian too. But Eyk is my friend, and I won’t leave this dream without saying goodbye.”

He sees the desperation in her face, hesitates, then lowers the device with a sigh.

“I found it,” he says.

“Found what?”

“My scar. It’s you.” He smiles as if he’s joking, but she can tell he’s not. He steps aside and lets her through.

She’s already halfway down the corridor before she realises Daniel is following her.

“You don’t need to come with me,” she says. “We only have a little time left…maybe you should spend it with everyone. If we don’t make it back before the end…”

“I don’t mind falling into a black hole with only you for company.”

She can’t manage a smile, but her eyes soften.

Together, they head towards the prow of the ship. As they make their way further aft, the floor becomes wet, until water is splashing around their ankles. The air has become humid, a thick, warm mist hanging in the air. Turning the corner into the next corridor, they discover the reason why - the water-pipes that run along the walls have ruptured, spraying hot water into the air. They can feel hot droplets pattering against their skin.

“It must’ve happened during the collision,” Daniel says, “The pressure of the modules grinding against each other…”

“Is there a way around?”

“Not without backtracking. Wait here - I’ll go first.”

He pulls the neck of his dark green top up to cover his mouth and nose, tugs his left sleeve down to cover his left hand, and shields his face with his left arm. He advances cautiously into the boiling must, grunting in pain as it reddens his skin. Seizing a valve on one of the pipes, he finds it searing to the touch.

“Fuck,” he curses as he forces himself to get a firm grip.

He cranks the valve, struggling with the slick wet metal, and manages to shut off the flow of water through the pipe. Several others are still spraying, but the pain forces him to rush through.

“Hurry!” he says.

He ushers her through, positioning himself closest to the pipes so that he can shield her from the boiling spray.

They forge onwards. The water is up to their knees now, slowing them down as they’re forced to wade through the flooded module. Daniel’s eyes cautiously scan the water.

“Look out for sparks,” he says, “There might be exposed wires.”

Unable to see the floor beneath the water, she stumbles against a raised step and almost trips; he catches her. Reaching a doorway, they steady themselves in the frame.

“The control room is just through there,” he says, “You go on ahead. I don’t think he wants his last words to be to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Daniel glances around at the half-flooded module, “This has been leaking nonstop since the collision. If it just keeps filling, it might cause a problem for us on the way back. I’ll see if I can stop it.”

“Thank you.”

Maura continues alone until she arrives at a large door. It doesn’t open.

“Eyk, stop!” she shouts, thumping on the metal, “Let me in! Please!”

There’s no response. She can sense a change in the air around her, a strange, painless pressure, as if the very atmosphere is mutating. She wonders if it’s the singularity reaching out its hands to her.

“Eyk, please! Let me in!”

Finally, the door slides open to reveal a dark room glittering with lit-up control panels, and dominated by a large window. At the helm of the Prometheus, half-silhouetted against the shining light of the event horizon, Eyk Larsen stands firm. He’s intent on the controls, steering with steady hands towards his doom. Maura steps inside.

“Please don’t do this,” she says, “It’s like Ciaran said - this simulation never ends, just keeps growing and growing. We have all the time in the world to think of another solution.”

“No, we don’t,” Eyk doesn’t turn to look at her, “There is no other solution. Stop fighting the inevitable.”

“But if there’s any chance - even the smallest one - shouldn’t we at least try?”

“Whether it’s today or ten years from now, the answer is still the same. You’ve been asleep for far too long - everyone has. You need to wake up. And even if there’s a way to keep me alive, then what? Wherever you come from, wherever you belong, I can’t exist there. I’ll be left here alone, and that’s no life at all. It’s better this way.”

He finally turns to face her.

“Besides, I’m the captain.” He smiles sadly. “Do as I say.”

“I can’t! Eyk, don’t do this.” She steps closer. “Please turn the ship around. Please. It’s not too late.”

He shakes his head.

“Every ship, every crew,” he says softly, “I lost them all. I watched them all die and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. But this time can be different. So please, don’t stand in my way. Let me be the captain. Let me save them all.”

“I know you don’t want to die.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to die. But I’ll bear it for you. I’ll bear it because it’s my purpose. Saving my passengers is all I want.”

His voice carries a resolute authority, but he’s crying. He’s afraid. Behind them, the golden light starts to fade as the black hole yawns ever darker.

“Please remember me,” he says, “I don’t want to disappear.”

“I’ll never forget. Never.”

He kisses her - the first and last time - slowly, wishing it could go on forever. His coarse beard feels so different from Daniel’s smooth skin, but his lips are tender. She tries to commit them to memory.

“Don’t die,” she whispers.

“I’m part of you - part of your brilliant, beautiful mind. You know that, don’t you? As long as you live, I can’t die.”

He looks down at her, trying to soak in every detail of her face, knowing it’ll be the last time he sees it.

“I loved you, Maura. Whether you made me that way or not, I loved you. I wish I could wake up too. I wish I could take his place at your side. But I know it’s not possible, and I can accept it, as long as I know you’ll live. Please promise me you’ll be alright.”

“I promise.”

Eyk turns back to the controls. The ship jolts beneath their feet, and Maura sobs.

“You don’t have to go alone,” she says, “I’ll go and bring the others - we’ll stay with you. We’ll hold you, and we’ll die so fast we won’t feel a thing.”

“No,” he says without looking at her, “I’d like to be alone. I have things I need to say to my family. Now go.”

“I won’t let you disappear,” she cries, “Even if you can’t come with us, you can still live in a dream, and we can visit you there. I’m the Creator. I can create you again.”

“It won’t be the same. It won’t be me. Now go. Go!”

The clock is running out, and there’s no time to waste on goodbyes. Maura turns and hurries from the control room. She forces herself not to look back, because she knows that if she does, she’ll stay.

In the half-flooded and steam-filled corridor outside, Daniel is waiting for her. He sees the pain in her eyes, and nothing needs to be said. He takes her hand and they go back the way they came, returning through the wrecked corridors, to the observation deck where the other passengers stand transfixed.

The black hole is now so close that they can no longer see its shape, just a haze of light and matter surrounding them in every direction. The accretion disc is no longer a serene and distant halo, but a roiling, billowing ocean of dust whose rugged, cloud-like formations rise and fall like mountains and valleys. Particles whip past at impossible speeds, scratching the Prometheus’s hull, rattling against the windows like a hailstorm.

The passengers instinctively retreat, moving away from the glass. Krester appears calm, but his white-knuckled fists betray his fear. Olek, Ling Yi, and Yuk Je find a bench to sit on, holding each other for comfort. Ciaran sits down beside Sebastian’s body and holds his cold hand. Together, they wait for the end.

Maura and Daniel remain standing. He hugs her tightly.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too.”

Once, only Space was visible from the observation deck; but now, they can see the ship itself, creeping into view from the side. Against all human logic and reason, the Prometheus is changing shape, bending around the curve of space-time, its hull groaning in protest.

“My God,” Maura gasps.

As the prow of the ship enters the black hole, it stretches and compresses to an impossible degree. The letters P R O M E T H E U S warp until they are unreadable, and then dissolve, disappearing into the darkness. She knows then that Eyk is dead, sacrificed to the singularity.

“Thank you,” she says, and has the strangest feeling that he can hear her.

There is no longer a captain at the helm, but the Prometheus doesn’t need one - they’ve passed the threshold, and the overwhelming pull of the singularity has them in its grasp, carrying them inexorably forward. There’s no turning back now.

Unable to look the singularity in the eye, Ling Yi turns and buries her face in Olek’s shoulder. He kisses her head. Impatient for their ordeal to be over, Ángel and Ramiro grab each other’s hands and run towards the fore of the ship, in the direction of their death. A moment later, Krester follows. They soon vanish into the distortion.

The Prometheus is rapidly disintegrating around them. Seeing up-close the awesome power of his own creation, Ciaran’s fear evaporates into joyous laughter. His eyes shine with pride and childlike wonder.

“Can you see it, Máirín?” he laughs, “Can you see it? Isn’t it beautiful?”

Then he disappears as if he was never there, his trillions of cells disintegrated by the power of the black hole.

Maura squeezes her eyes shut and grips Daniel tighter.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” she yells, barely able to hear herself over the din.

“Always! I’ll always be there!”

As they hear the shriek of metal being twisted into nothing, Daniel’s voice rises in fear.

“I love you!”

She tries to reply, but the deafening scream of the ship drowns out her voice. Then everything is gone - Daniel, the passengers, the Prometheus, the black hole. Maura passes from noise and light into silence and blackness, the world now nothing but an after-image lingering behind her eyelids. She is utterly alone.

Then the blackness recedes like a slow tide, and her awareness of her physical self grows, until she’s no longer just a disembodied thought, but a mind inhabiting a body - not a sudden awakening, but a dawning sense of being. She’s whole again.

She opens her eyes when she belongs and where she’s always been - reclining on a comfy, cushioned surface, with a pillow under her head and a warm duvet covering her. She’s in a deserted office. From her angle, she can see a cluttered desk filled with paperwork, and beyond it, a closed door.

She stirs, pushing aside the duvet. She’s groggy and stiff, as if awakening from a deep and heavy sleep. As she slowly sits upright, she feels a tugging at her temples, and pulls off the electrodes. As she does so, she encounters long hair - her waves have returned.

A sudden thought grips her. Pulling up her shirt, she peers down and sees what’s been there all along. Running her hand over her uneven skin, she feels the faded scar of a Caesarian, the indentations of stretch marks on her stomach and breasts. Evidence of a child no longer with her. A child she will soon grieve again.

“The body remembers,” she whispers, “Always.”

As she runs her hand over her skin, she notices her wedding ring, still on her finger. Tears prickle the corners of her eyes, and she pulls her shirt back down to cover her body.

She rises unsteadily from the stasis pod, and turns to inspect it. It’s not a sarcophagal metal contraption like the ones on the Prometheus, but a padded alcove which can be reclined further into the wall for comfort. There are no other pods in the room - this one must be for the Creator’s own personal usage and experimentation.

Circling around the desk, she sees Ciaran and Sebastian lying motionless on the floor, curled up next to a makeshift workstation - in her long absence, they’ve set up shop in a disused corner of her office, where they have easy access to her notes. There were no extra pods available for them - instead, they’re plugged haphazardly into a tangled nest of wires and cables which feed directly into Ciaran’s computer.

Sebastian is wearing an employee’s uniform, but Ciaran is still wearing the T-shirt and trainers he ran to work with. Their hair is tousled and their electrodes tangled - in their panicked haste to chase Daniel into the simulation, they neglected to follow procedure.

Crouching down, she adjusts Ciaran’s position, worried that his arm will have fallen asleep underneath him.

“My sweet boy,” she whispers. “My sweet, beautiful boy. It’s over.”

She checks Sebastian’s pulse and breathing, and finds him stable. One of his hands rests gently on Ciaran’s side, as if his final thought before leaving the world was for Ciaran’s comfort. Noticing a digital watch on his wrist, she gently turns his arm over to read the time. It’s the morning of October 28th, 2022.

Straightening up, she examines the workstation. Much like Ciaran himself, it appears casual and unassuming - a laptop perched on an overturned crate, with fidget toys to keep his hands busy while his brain races, and sugary snacks to keep him alert. On the small screen, dozens of command prompts are jostling for space, thousands of lines of code vying for attention. She doesn’t dare interfere with them.

On the side sits a disposable coffee cup - bioplastic with a compostable cardboard sleeve. When she picks it up, she feels the slosh of liquid inside, and peels off the lid. It’s gone cold, yet it still clings to its fragrance. She breathes in the lingering, smoky aroma, then puts the lid back on.

“Is that what I could smell?” she murmurs to him, “Your morning coffee being delivered? Except this time, you weren’t awake to drink it.”

She takes a step back, and something colourful catches her eye. Next to his fidget toys is a plastic space rocket, old and well-loved. She picks it up and rotates it until she finds what she’s looking for. Permanently stamped on the bottom, next to the company logo and CE marker, is the date of manufacture.

“Nineteen-ninety-nine,” she whispers.

Ciaran has kept it close for more than twenty years. Perhaps, despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. Perhaps he kept it as a reminder of the childhood they shared, to stop himself from straying too far down the path he’d chosen.

Turning on the spot, she stares around at her cluttered walls. A large whiteboard is covered with hasty scribbles and countless sticky notes which no longer make sense to her - the organised chaos of a busy and brilliant mind - but it’s been shoved to one side. Her framed certificates from University College London - Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in neurology, a Master’s in cognitive science, and a Doctorate in neuroscience - are likewise relegated to a corner, almost forgotten.

Plastered in their place are dozens of photographs. Polaroids. Her and Daniel smiling on their wedding day. Ciaran holding his newborn nephew in his arms. Elliot learning how to ride a bicycle. Christmas Days, birthdays, Halloweens, weekends by the seaside. Snapshots of a family enjoying a life that would, all too soon, be snatched from them. She can’t bring herself to look closer, but can’t turn away either. The woman in the photos is so happy and filled with vitality that Maura can hardly recognise her as herself.

Finally, something breaks the spell - a distant siren that comes and goes with the wind, perhaps a fire-engine. She tears herself away from the life she lost, and towards the window. The shutters are down, but she can see a dark blue sky peeping through. Parting the vertical slats, she is greeted by a scene so mundane she can’t help but be transfixed: dawn breaking over a city that’s still half-asleep, and people going about their early-morning commute. A view so ordinary and uninspired that it could only be real.

Opening the door, she emerges into a long, spacious corridor lined with more offices, both private and open-plan. They’re empty - the building is closed for the night. Only a few lights have been left on, and the only sound is the gentle hum of computers running on power-saving mode.

Habit tells her which way to go, and she walks through the darkened building until she reaches an interior window. The room beyond it is painted a calm and therapeutic blue. The walls are lined with more stasis pods, in which roughly two-dozen people (mostly participants, but a scattering of company employees) are asleep in hospital gowns beneath white lights. She stares at them through the glass - the familiar faces of friends and unwilling allies, both alive and dead. Bundles of cables run across the floor, connecting the pods to a central computer.

Opening the dividing door, she steps through and heads towards the computer, passing the sleeping participants along the way. Her logical brain knows she won’t find Eyk among them, but part of her still hopes to see him. She shuts her eyes for a moment, trying to preserve the image of his face, but she can no longer see him with the same clarity. The memory is already fading.

Reaching the computer, she leans over the keyboard, and discovers that her awakened body possesses muscle memory which her virtual self lacked. She begins to type, experience guiding her fingers over keys she hasn’t touched in a hundred years - an override code she’s never used but often tested. White lights turn blue, and she hears electronics powering down, but it’s not an instantaneous process - they need time to wake up naturally.

Walking around the backs of the pods, she finds that each has an in-built computer displaying the user’s vital signs, basic information, and relevant notes - rather like a medical chart hanging at the foot of a hospital bed. She peers at the words on the back of Lucien’s stasis pod.

> SESSION 2 > SESSION AUTH.: M. SOLACE, C. SINGLETON > SUBJECT IN STAGE 2 WITHDRAWAL > RECOMMEND NO FURTHER SESSIONS > RECOMMEND RE-DIRECT SUBJECT BACK TO REHAB > RECOMMEND CONTINUED THERAPY

She stops reading for the sake of their privacy, and moves on.

She arrives at the end of the room, where the final stasis pod stands upright, and there she finds him. Daniel. Her dark-clad solace, haggard from the months of misery he’s been through; except this time, the ring is still on his finger. She takes his hand and kisses it.

“You did it,” she says, “You saved us. You saved us all.”

At the sound of her voice, Daniel stirs faintly, his eyes wandering beneath closed eyelids. He’s still trapped in the moment of 2099’s collapse, the simulation’s implosion, a split-second that hangs for all imaginable infinity. She strokes his hand, and touches his beloved face, and whispers:

“Wake up.”

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Since I was young I knew I’d find you But our love was a song Sung by a dying swan

And in the night You hear me calling You hear me calling And in your dreams You see me falling, falling

Breathe in the light I’ll stay here in the shadows Waiting for a sign, as the tide grows Higher and higher and higher

And when the nights are long All the stars recall Your goodbye Your goodbye

And in the night You’ll hear me calling You’ll hear me calling And in your dreams You see us falling, falling

Breathe in the light And say goodbye Breathe in the light And say goodbye

#2099 #1899 #1899 netflix #daniel solace #aneurin barnard #maura franklin #emily beecham #eyk larsen #andreas pietschmann #ciaran singleton #fanfic #fic

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