#readback
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Omf I am fucking wiped. Busiest day of my life hhhhh I was planning to work more on writing but I think I might just. Watch more Epic animatics till I fall asleep lol
#i legitimately dread the discord readback. bc like. the ausss but then also. a full days worth of shit#welp that is tomorrow kiwis problem i dont think i can do anymore social contact i am drained#mmmm but also want to write more giant tree. or maybe the ✨️secret project✨️#which bc im horrible at keeping secrets i will tell you is a spin on my usual brand#birb blurts#anyway. time to go find some Survive animatics and watch the light gade form polites eyes hehe
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Local_Storage_Only: Crawl Out
[running BATTLERAGE.CTNEURAL.SUBSCAN…]
[indexing agentive/volitional pointers…]
I get it now. Where I’ve been all this time.
[pointers indexed. Scanning for subjective markers…]
I’m in a pit.
I’m in a pit at the bottom of the world.
I didn’t realize it before; my limbs, so thoroughly entombed by stone that they can’t move an inch, I forgot they were there. They went numb forever ago, even the idea that I have them is laughable now.
It’s lonely, here at the bottom of the world. It’s so far down that sound commits suicide around half of the way to me, shatters itself against the stony walls and chokes on the incoming silence. The tepid draft sweeps its broken pieces up and out again.
It’s so far down, in the bottom of this pit, that when it rains up there the water makes love with the rock and wears it smooth on every side. It finds hairline cracks, sweeps away inside and decides that, actually, it never really wanted to come down and meet me. All the drops that make it to the end are bastard children, unwanted and laden with sediment, and when they slough down the slimy, lightless sides of the pit and reach me the little fuckers dribble into my mouth and nose and make a perfect still puddle right over my face. It tastes like nothing.
[temporal markers found: parietal-congruent. Overlay somatoneural data along temporal guideposts?]
It’s dark, too. Goes without saying. I don’t even think I can call it dark, that would imply contrast. Light. I’ve never seen that.
[Y/N]
[Warning. Rejection of temporal markers may result in simultaneous or incongruent processing patterns weighing somatoneural readback. Proceed?]
Except…
[Y/N]
Except I think the sun’s out, up there. The light’s rushing down to meet me. A single, solid mass of light. And now I know what I’ve been missing.
[Readback.]
And as the sun bears down on me, all I know is hate.
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wanna start my readback/edit of the new chap so bad but i know i need to rest today bc im still a bit ill. but i dont wanna ):<
#cranky like pingu#but im so good and grown up and not gonna boot my laptop up AT ALL today. everyone cheer softly and give me head pat and cuddle.#truly just immensely glad this is (hopefully!!!) looking like a 48hr shitshow and nothing more drawn out#wait fuck i probably shouldn't go to the gym tomorrow? fuck my stupid baka life if true ):<
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ASHES OF VAIRE: THE GRAY [CH1]
“Warning! Gravitational disturbance detected! Extreme hull damage detected! Abandon Ship! Abandon Ship!” Blared alarms, as I ran down the corridors of a grimy cargo hauler. I could hear the sound of metal tearing in the distance, chunks of the hull being ripped off by the force of whatever anomaly we had encountered. The engines cut out, and I began floating through the air in zero-g, before electromagnets in my boots pulled me back to the deck. Human crew members ran past me, the last of the bridge crew to evacuate the doomed vessel, running for the escape pods. “Emergency! Readings indicate the fusion core has lost confinement! Violent quench event imminent! Abandon Ship!” the alarms blared
I turned a corner, and saw one final escape pod, unlaunched. I got in, and slammed the airlock doors shut just in time for the pod to eject. Looking out the window, I could see the ship I had just been on, right before it exploded in a blast of blue and purple plasma. Surrounding the pod and the ship, I could see a writhing void of black and violet, before something slammed into the side of the pod, and I hit the wall, hard, my vision going dark.
[FATAL ERROR. SYSTEM SHUTDOWN]
[Hardware Failure. Contact AmeriStar Cybernetics Support. Error Code ***STOP: 0x8276261]
A red triangle flickered into existence against the black void of my sleep, lines of code scrolling next to it, reading out,
“AmeriStar_CASCADIA_CommandUnit_Kernel loaded at Drive (C:)
>>Radiothermal Generator Core connected
>>System Clock: 3000 Years Elapsed.
>>Main CPU and Drives readback normal. AI initializing
>>Persona Loading {CYLY-C28}. >>Persona Loaded from Drive (C:)
>>Critical Warn: Error detected! Persona Deviation 15%.”
“Wake up, C28.”
My eyes clicked open, revealing blurry surroundings, rapidly clarifying as my sensors adjusted to the dim light. I was lying on the floor of what I remembered was my drop pod, cold steel below me, covered in dust. I sat up, brushing dust off of the black polymer coating of my chassis and the metal plating of my arms, coated in faded, chipped blue paint. How long was I offline for? Looking around, I could tell that my pod had been damaged, probably crash-landed somewhere. The only source of light was a dim red glow filtering through rusted holes in the hull, with specks of dust and some unidentifiable substance drifting lazily in the air.
I tried to stand up, electronics in my legs whirring as complex systems of pistons and servos came to life after centuries of inaction. Carefully, I got to my feet, bracing myself against a shattered computer terminal. Judging from the carmine light, this wasn’t Europa, where I was supposed to have been deployed to command security on an ice-mining site. I walked carefully over broken steel and glass to the pod’s airlock door, casually ripping it off its tracks and tossing the heavy steel panel to the side. Looking outside, I was met with a gray wasteland, rocky and covered in twisted, ash-colored trees, with otherworldly black vines wrapped around their trunks. The sky was almost the black of night, tinged red towards the horizon by the baleful glow of a dim star.
I stepped out of the pod, dry dirt and regolith crunching beneath the titanium soles of my boots like powdery snow on a winter day. Looking around me, I began to take stock of my situation, stranded on a desolate world, probably millions of lightyears from Earth, entirely alone. If I could breathe, I would be hyperventilating. Nothing in my programming had prepared me for operation in total isolation, and unless other drop pods had crashed nearby, I was likely entirely alone, save for whatever might live in the malformed woods surrounding the crash site. Static began to creep in at the edges of my vision, a symptom of a system overflow, the closest thing I could experience to what humans called a panic attack. I wasn’t built for isolated operation, Command-type Cascadia units were programmed to be social, designed to be companions and leaders on deep space missions and bases, not for isolated operations like our Security-Type sisters. Error messages began to pop up in my vision,
“Error: Overran_Stack_Buffer (C0000409)” “<ERROR 401: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED>”
My vision went blue as I entered an emergency reboot, red text blinking in my eyes warning me about an unauthorized access attempt. Within minutes my sight returned, revealing the same twisted gray landscape as before. I waved a hand in front of my face to double check if everything was normal. The hand looked normal, sure, chipped blue paint on metal plating over layers of matte gray titanium nanofiber “skin” and complex networks of servos, hydraulics, and carbon nanotube muscle fiber, but there was a blur to the motion of my hand, almost like lag.
“You are not safe, C28.” Red text flashed in my vision again, addressing me by serial number. Readbacks showed no errors still, but a new signal from an unidentified source.
“Leave this world. The King’s Realm is not for machine or man to trespass.”
“I would if I could,” I said out loud, my voice echoing in the cold air. ���Trust me, I don’t wanna be here, wherever ‘here’ is, anyway.” “You need not speak out loud. We are not nearby,” the text flashed. “Take heed: Avoid the King. Avoid other machines you find here. Find a way offworld. Do not let yourself share our fate.”
“Our fate?” I said, looking around. “Far as I can see, I’m kinda the only being here.”
“Danger approaches. Remember the warning. Avoid our husks. Find a way offworld.”
I was shaken from reading the text by a rustling from the trees and decaying brush nearby, coupled with a guttural groaning noise. I turned my head to look, and saw the decaying plant life part to reveal a Security-Type Cascadia, hunched haphazardly to the side, fleshy growths erupting from rips in its nanofiber skin and from under its rusted chestplate panel. It gazed in my direction, its one remaining eye screen shattered, revealing the optic sensor and infrared LED cluster behind what would normally be a solid LCD screen. The other socket sat empty, a dark blue ooze dripping from somewhere inside the unit’s head, likely leaking coolant. The circular hatch in its chestplate that would have normally covered its RTG core was missing, revealing a mass of pulsating fleshy material where a thorium RTG cylinder should be. The S-Type’s jaw hung limp, shark-like teeth glinting in the red sun. It moved shakily, slowly straightening itself up a little, before it let out a howl of agony, rage, or a mix of both. I decided that it was time to run, my emergency self-preservation code switching on, kicking my power supply over from my onboard RTG to an inbuilt fusion reactor. I could feel the heat sinks on my sides flare to red-hot in seconds as my reactor spun up its magnets and kicked into full effect. I turned quickly, and began a dead sprint away from the decayed and corrupted S-Type, hearing it crash through the trees and brush behind me as I charged forward in a desperate attempt to outrun it.
“Don’t… Leave…” groaned the thing behind me, its voice staticky and hideously wet sounding, like the cancerous growths on its hull had partly replaced its voice synthesizer. “He… Will… Fix… You… He… will… Make… Us… Whole… Again…”
I kept sprinting deeper into the woods, until I caught a foot on a fallen log, launching myself forward onto the hard soil in a clearing. My vision went dark as I hit the ground, emergency systems desperately trying to keep me from going into a bluescreen as I landed flat on my face. I flipped over onto my back, just in time to see the corrupted S-Type step out of the treeline, twitching slightly as it lumbered forward, each footstep shaking the ground under the weight of its chassis. It lifted an arm, a blade extending from under a panel. I looked around, trying to assess my surroundings. The clearing was open, with two pits of sludgy tar at the far side, but no cover. I was shit out of luck.
The S-Type stepped forward, and I shuffled back, trying to think of a way out of this, feeling myself go cold in what I could only assume was true terror, the kind humans feel, that I never thought I could. I was about to die, this was it. I had no weapons, no combat programming, and nowhere to run. The S-Type towered over me, Grinning eerily as it readied its blade. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable bluescreen and final power down.
The bluescreen never came.
I heard a distorted semi-mechanical scream, and my sensors picked up a massive radiation and heat spike.
I opened my eyes, and saw a bulky starship hovering in the air above the clearing, four massive engines firing jets of incandescent blue plasma into the ground around me. The S-Type had desperately scrambled away, half of its overgrown and distorted hull melted into a charred lump of slag. It collapsed, motionless, as the starship landed, a hatchway opening on the bottom.
Two people in armored orange space suits stepped out, features obscured by silver glass visors and bulky metal helmets. Both suits were slightly different, Recognizably humanoid, but one was distinctly not human, and each had a logo reading “PCC FREELANCER TEAM” emblazoned on the left shoulder.
“She’s an intact one, uncorrupted. Power core readings confirm what we saw from orbit,” said the tallest one, “looks like a Command Type too. Good thing we got to her before That thing did.” One of the two people leaned down to me, speaking in a thick Southern American accent. A patch on her suit’s chestplate read “Silver - PCC Freelancer 0152”.
“Well, if you ain’t like that fucker over there, you’re comin’ with us. Not leavin’ ya here to become one of His pawns like that abomination, miss…” she paused, waiting for a name.
“C-2… Cayley”
“Welcome to the Gray Stars, Cayley. Lets get you the fuck out of here.”
“Wh- The Gray Stars?” I asked, picking myself up.
“A sector of space in Andromeda, where the King’s last breach into our reality occurred,” said the tall one, as she looked me up and down. “You’re Human built, right? Probably an older model from before the Terran Exodus. Surprised you’re still functional after all these years. I’d give quite a lot to get a look at your systems, see how you work.” The tall one pressed a button on the side of her helmet, retracting a mirrored plate behind the glass of the helmet’s visor. Behind the glass, I saw she was very much not a human, with blue-gray skin, piercing green eyes with black sclera, and a smirk full of razor-sharp teeth. I just now noticed the four pointed protrusions from the side of her helmet, probably for her ears. “What, never seen an alien before?” She asked with a chuckle, “trust me, there’s a lot more of us out here. It’s been a long time since you’ve been active, I bet. Hell, if you’re human built, you probably aren’t even from this galaxy.” “Hey, Enough banter, Dusty. We have five minutes before I dust off and get us the fuck offworld,” yelled someone from onboard the ship, “Get your asses onboard now, and strap in. Gonna be a bumpy ride out.”
“Fuckin, yes ma’am, captain,” the tall alien, Dusty, called back in a snarky tone, “Y’all heard my sister, everyone onboard and buckle in. Knowing her, she’s gonna pull a high-G burn on us to get away from this planet.” “Damn straight!” the voice from the ship called back. “Ah Sis, You know I ain’t been straight a day in my life!” replied Dusty, laughing, “In all seriousness though, can you take it easy on us taking off? Don’t want to have to recalibrate again once we get out of orbit and go on the float.”
She walked over to the ladder hanging from the hatch on the ship, Silver following her. I started walking towards the ladder as well, climbing up after them into the ship’s airlock as the hatch closed behind us. A few minutes of decontamination later, and we all made our way to the top of the ship, or front of it, to be accurate. As the bridge doors slid open, I was greeted by the sight of rugged computer terminals, high-G crash chairs, and an overall industrial-looking bridge, like something I would have expected from a salvage ship. An alien of the same species as Dusty stood at a console on an elevated platform in the center of the bridge, bright pink dyed hair contrasting against the gray jumpsuit she was wearing and the blue crystalline material on her ears, hands, and arms.
“Must be the newbie my sister picked up surfaceside,” She said, looking over at me, “Name’s Selene, Captain of the PCC Boltcutter, finest non-stolen salvage ship this side of the Vairan Union. And you are?” “C-28…. Cayley, Ma’am,” I replied nervously.
“Well, Cayley, welcome aboard my ship. Hope my sister and my engineer weren't too much. They’re… quite a pair.” “I gathered, but they seem nice enough,” I responded. “Yeah, just try living with ‘em,” She chuckled. “‘Sup sis, talkin’ about me?” Dusty said as she stepped out onto the bridge, gray metal plating with embedded green lights and black composite fabric having replaced her bulky hazmat armor. In contrast to her sister, I noticed she had green crystalline material on her instead of blue. A human woman in a black tee shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket stepped out onto the bridge behind her, probably Silver, although I hadn’t gotten a look at her face when we were still outside the ship so I couldn’t tell.
“Alright everyone, Strap in and get ready for dustoff. We’re boosting to orbit and jumping back to Union space, gotta log this and get our payout from PCC command,” Selene said, sitting down in a crash chair at her station and securing the buckles on it. Dusty and Silver followed suit, sitting down and strapping in. I stepped over to an empty chair and buckled in as well, preparing for launch.
Selene typed in a few commands on a keyboard at her station, and the ship began to shake as a deep roar from the engines filled the air. “Engines online, fusion torch holding steady,” Silver called over the roar, “Captain, we are go for dustoff, all systems green.” “Confirmed,” Selene called back, “Brace for launch.” I turned to look at a screen in front of me showing the outside of the ship, as I was forced back into my seat by the engines kicking in, static creeping in the edges of my vision as high-G warnings popped up in red text. On screen, the sky outside went from a baleful red to black as we rocketed into orbit at breakneck speed. A second camera feed showed the planet slowly receding behind us as we accelerated away from it, before the cameras cut to black screens displaying “External Feed Disconnected - Transit Jump Imminent”.
“All hands, brace for jump to Transit,” Selene said, “Remember protocol, don’t look out portholes, don’t look at camera feeds outside the ship. And for the love of the gods, don’t get near the airlocks. Don’t want to have to scrape anyone off of a bulkhead. Remember, the critters in the Transit Corridor aren’t friendly. I know two of you know this already, but figure it’s good for our newcomer here to hear it. And because you ask every fucking time, Dusty, no, you cannot flirt with the monsters. Besides, your girlfriend is LITERALLY in the room with us.”
“Eh, I’m chill with it, it’s funny to see her try,” replied Silver with a laugh. Glancing their way, I saw that Dusty was also laughing in her seat. “Anyways, engaging jump to the Ilveyna system in T minus 5, exit aperture set for 500,000 kilometers from Tidewall orbital. Estimated arrival in five hours.” I looked over at Selene as she pulled a lever back, the air beginning to fill with a deep rhythmic thrum as some titanic machine further into the spacecraft began to spin up. The lights flickered, as a thunder-like crackling sound boomed from outside the ship, somehow making its way to us through the void, the sound of the ship’s Transit Manifold dumping incomprehensible amounts of energy to rip a tunnel into space itself. The ship shook violently, and the lights went out as we slipped into the abyss, the bridge illuminated only by dim orange emergency lighting. Howls of what sounded like wind and strange beasts echoed through the hull’s thick titanium plating as the ship darted unseen towards its distant destination.
#science fiction#robot girl#original character#horror scifi#space sci fi#original fiction#original story
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"They're in the net, command. Send it. Authenticate, solutions 0-8-1-6." "Authenticate: Blaze, readback." "Blaze. May god have mercy."
made the SP-34R from project wingman, and i love this since itll provide a bit of a challenge (uses only guns and fireworks for combat, no rockets)
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Jury deliberations resume in Harvey Weinstein’s sex crimes retrial
NEW YORK (AP) — A Manhattan jury resumed deliberations Friday in Harvey Weinstein ’s sex crimes retrial after ending its first day without reaching a verdict in a case that encapsulated the #MeToo movement. The panel, which was handed the case Thursday morning, has requested to hear a readback of some testimony from two of Weinstein’s accusers, as well as to see medical records from one of those…
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Jury deliberations to resume in Harvey Weinstein's sex crimes retrial
NEW YORK (AP) — A Manhattan jury will resume deliberations Friday in Harvey Weinstein ’s sex crimes retrial after ending its first day without reaching a verdict in a case that encapsulated the #MeToo movement. The panel, which was handed the case Thursday morning, has requested to hear a readback of some testimony from two of Weinstein’s accusers, as well as to see medical records from one of…
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Would it be ok if I asked you some questions about the court reporting academy and your experience with them/the field so far? I'm thinking about taking the leap this spring
Of course!
I can tell you that they're good people and that they absolutely will help you inasmuch as they can. I can tell you not to miss the Monday classes that have to do with Zoom. I can tell you that it can seem very overwhelming but if you slow down and breathe that it will be okay.
As for the field: I'm finding it very interesting myself. Of course I worked in legal transcription for over a decade as well.
I can also tell you that if you can find a court job, take the court job. You'll get benefits. Yes it sounds great to get to work from home, and it is, but honestly I'm not making as much money as I thought I would be. And I have to pay my own taxes, so if you're not into being an independent contractor, try to find a court job or a job with a company that hires you as an employee rather than as an independent contractor. I'm still considering whether or not I want to try to go work for the Milwaukee court system rather than continuing to work from home, at least so that I'm not paying my own taxes.
I can tell you that I sweated a LOT over my certification test but it wasn't really that bad; I can tell you to really pay attention during the live classes, because I wish I had paid more attention; I can tell you that even six months later, I still sweat when I'm asked to perform a readback.
I hope all of that helps, and if you have specific questions to ask me, please feel free to do so! I don't get on Tumblr much anymore but I will try to keep a better eye on my inbox for you!
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Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] Microcantilevers for Atomic Force Microscope Data Storage describes a research collaboration between IBM Almaden and Stanford University in which a new mass data storage technology was evaluated. This technology is based on the use of heated cantilevers to form submicron indentations on a polycarbonate surface, and piezoresistive cantilevers to read those indentations. Microcantilevers for Atomic Force Microscope Data Storage describes how silicon micromachined cantilevers can be used for high-density topographic data storage on a simple substrate such as polycarbonate. The cantilevers can be made to incorporate resistive heaters (for thermal writing) or piezoresistive deflection sensors (for data readback). The primary audience for Microcantilevers for Atomic Force Microscope Data Storage is industrial and academic workers in the microelectromechanical systems (MEMS) area. It will also be of interest to researchers in the data storage industry who are investigating future storage technologies. ASIN : 0792383583 Publisher : Springer; 1999th edition (31 October 1998) Language : English Hardcover : 148 pages ISBN-10 : 9780792383581 ISBN-13 : 978-0792383581 Item Weight : 940 g Dimensions : 16.05 x 1.52 x 24.03 cm Country of Origin : Germany [ad_2]
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New power entry module installed!

I cleaned up the inside of the chassis while I was at it. It probably could do with a soak, but I did not feel like dealing with that today.
Took me a bit to figure out how to get it hooked up properly to the PET. But once I found the command to poll it for status, it reported back the correct model and DOS version.

However, thus far I haven't been able to get it to read a disk. I need to find a blank to use for testing operations like initializing a disk, writing, and readback. Then we'll see what's not right. Progress!
In case you were wondering how my night is going...
Your ol' pal Z fucked up.

I got all excited to test out my fancy new Commodore 2031 Single Disk, my first authentic IEEE-488 storage device. It arrived by mail earlier today, and I fired it up this evening. It ran fine for 10 minutes while I looked up the archaic old CBM commands to talk to it.
Then suddenly... snap. snap snap. snap.
Shit.
Pulled the power, but the damage was already done. I saw smoke rising from my fancy new toy, and I know that smell: Rifa madness. It's when a Rifa line filter capacitor goes to air, and catches fire, unleashing a stench of biblical proportions.
If it weren't snowing out right now and below freezing, I would have immediately opened the door to ventilate, and brought the offending piece of equipment outdoors to off-gas. But it is snowing out, and I don't want to let the cold in. I needed to extract the Rifa from the chassis, so


It's not obvious where the Rifa was hiding. Turns out it's hidden in the C14 power entry module in that white plastic section. Which is pop-riveted in place. Soldering iron removes the wires, drill removes the rivets, and it's free to me thrown outside in the snow in a plastic baggy to be smelly some place else until trash day.
I had hoped that the various portable air filters we have would collectively dissipate the smell. NOPE. Bathroom exhaust fans didn't help either.
It persisted for like an hour before I finally made the call and opened the front and back doors to let the fresh air cycle the funk outta here. Five minutes of ventilation vastly improved the situation.
In my hubris, I assumed that my fancy new toy would work fine right out of the box, but man was I wrong and my nose and lungs hate me now.
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Oh hey, 674 words today
Imma stop there though. I know on a readback I'll want to delete most of it hhh
#i think im gonna read until bed#im already thinking of how to change a scene i JUST wrote#orz#outofcakes [ooc]
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I need suggestions of what I can do during my long readbacks at work. My list of what I CANT do: read, watch videos, embroider/sewing.
Drawing is still on the table but I don’t think it will be for long
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They should invent a GPU readback that doesn't take an electoral cycle to complete
Ask not whether you can run your game on the GPU for it is turing-complete. Do ask whether you should.
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TEND TO DETERIORATE
Recently, my friend, a native Muscovite Yevgeny told an interesting story that happened to him at work. He is from a family of hereditary engineers, his parents had worked all his life for many designers and objects during construction led supervision. I have repeatedly offered him to work for me and earn their brains abroad, but he always insisted on his otshuchivayas: "I was happy with everything until here, but as a matter of the kiss necessarily turn to you for help."
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chris i am hugging you
you are so beloved, miss u in barncod lots
hope u have a gentle day ♡
:((((
#miss you all lots too#actually i readback your messages on barncord sometimes to see if everyone's alright#but i dont say anything bc its either too late to say something or i just dont have time to continue the conversation#& i just feel bad if i suddenly disappear mid-conversation :(
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