#upgrading and repairing old electronics

[neververy4]

🌻

ASK GAME

I bought a set of 90's looking speakers for USD$0.50 last week Friday, and I was hoping to get SOME use before I had to do any repairs, but alas they were not perfect 😔 The sound was off, the main speaker would sometimes shut off, and the volume knob would static every time you touched it.

But :) Yesterday I took it apart, replaced all the capacitors and resistors on the simple board it had, took the volume knob off to clean it with contact cleaner, and even replaced the green power LED with a brighter blue one :) Now it sounds correct, both speakers play, AND there a blue light on it 💙

[rafeovermorals]

YOUR OLD NEIGHBOR JOEL who becomes your personal handyman.. always fixing things around the house for you. something broken? you bring it to him and he’ll take care of it.

he teased you at first. “no boyfriend to do this?” he questioned in his usual nonchalant, grumpy tone.. but when you replied that you were single, you saw his lips tug into a smirk.

after a while you didn’t have to ask anymore. joel came over on his own accord just to find things to repair, it made him feel useful that way.

he warmed up to you over time. “it’s no problem, darlin’. not like i got much else to do these days.” you always offered him a cup of coffee as a thank you, which he accepted.

you would help him too. he was skilled with his hands, but electronics were a different story. when he finally upgraded from his flip phone, he didn’t have a clue in the world on what to do with it. “not my generation.” he grumbled, clearly struggling to figure it out.

he was too embarrassed to ask. “let me do it for you, old man.” you teased with a giggle, snatching the device from him. you got everything ready to go— going the extra mile to downloaded tinder and offering to set up a profile for him.. even though he swore he’d never use it.

you added your number to joel’s contacts. it was the only number, actually. he texted like a dad, responding to your texts with a flat “sure.” or “no.” until you taught him what emojis were, then he sometimes used the thumbs up or a heart.

he gave in one day, deciding to try out the dating apps. his profile was simple— classic joel. nothing really special about it.. except that all of the pictures he had were taken by you.

he scrolled through, pressing ‘x’ on each women that was prompted to him. he was ready to delete it all together.. but a familiar face popped up. you.

your profile was unlike anything he’d seen from the others. you stood out from the rest, of course you did. he swiped back and forth between your pictures.. his cock stirring in his pants at the sight of one with you in a bikini. you were alluring, a seductive smile that was bound to attract endless messages.

he felt dirty for staring too long. it was wrong, yet he couldn’t get himself to look away. why were you on there, anyway? a pretty girl like you had no business searching for love on this app full of perverted, lonely men like himself. even if so.. why would it show your account to him when he’s three times your age? he knew for a fact that the user had choice in what range they were interested in— you told him that.

the thought stuck with him. those flirty remarks, sneaking glances, and lingering touches clicked in his mind. before he could regret it, he pressed the ‘✓’ beside your name with a hold of his breath.

YOU HAVE A MATCH!

quick drabble because this picture posted today sent me into an old handyman!joel spiral. i’ve seen a few neighbor/fixer upper fics, but i want to link inspo to this one as it is one of my favorite reads on here!

[nowimjustastranger]

Fic request...lets see...

How about stcmo!ford experience meeting the eldest Stanley and/or the youngest Stanley he had saved?

Ford had just drifted off into a light and restless slumber when the notification came in, his helmet beeping urgently from where it sat on his makeshift workbench, the surface cluttered with electronic scraps and soldering tools. Ford heaved himself up with a grunt of effort, striding over to the helmet to pull it on and access the data to pinpoint where the emergency was and the severity of the situation.

D – G/727 | 12 yo | COD: Self-Inflicted Injury

Ford’s hands fumbled to clip the helmet underneath his chin, blindly reaching for his trenchcoat and dimension hopping gun from the backrest of his desk chair and nightstand respectively. The coordinates were already pulled up on the screen, having been uploaded from his helmet, so all he had to do was pull the trigger and step through the swirling gateway to reach his destination.

Even with the upgrades and adjustments, his radar still struggled to get an exact location, but the multiverse was a big place and wormholes were notoriously complex so Ford couldn’t fault the technology for not quite being up to par. After all, Ford could deal with a bit of searching. He was always dropped within a certain radius of the event, so he simply had to travel toward the epicenter to find what he was looking for.

His boots crunched as he stepped on glass and he snapped out of his single-minded focus to look down, his ribcage tightening at the sight of a distant memory brought into startling clarity. Glass Shard Beach. At least now he had an idea of where he was going, there was really only one spot that Stan would be drawn to, and Ford found his feet briskly carrying him toward a familiar silhouette in the distance.

There was a soft light emanating from the ship’s interior, the hole that Stan had made in the hull upon discovering the wreck not yet repaired. Ford had to crouch in order to carefully crawl inside, not wanting to alert the child to his presence before he was able to properly assess the situation, each movement slow and calculated as he prowled into the cramped space.

Ford saw Stan almost immediately, his stomach swooping in a nauseating fashion as the golden glow illuminated the alarmingly large red puddle around Stan’s left arm. He lunged forward with a wounded sound, scrabbling toward the boy in an entirely undignified manner, his black pants soaking up the still warm blood when he kneeled beside Stan. Ford checked his pulse the old fashioned way, the sensors in his gloves easily picking up the boy’s slightly weakened heartbeat.

He hasn’t lost too much blood then. Good.

Ford took Stan’s left arm in a gentle grip and turned it to examine the gash, his narrowed eyes cataloging every mark that marred the boy’s scrawny arms. Some were fresher than others, layers upon layers of wounds healed only to be carved open again. This was what hatred looked like. This was the kind of self-loathing that burrowed into you with harsh words and even harsher fists, wearing you down until death looked like the better option.

Ford’s throat clicked dryly when he swallowed, retrieving his collapsible med kit from his utility belt. He gave the boy a mild numbing agent before reattaching the vein that Stan had accidentally severed, sealing the wound with a small red penlight that increased the rate of repair. He didn’t heal it all the way, leaving it a tender pink scar to hopefully deter Stan from carving himself up in the future.

Ford sat back on his haunches with a full-body shudder when he was finished, dragging his helmet up and off his head to gasp for air, his bloodied hands shaking. He sloppily set the helmet down beside his soaked knees, gaze honed in on the steady rise of Stan’s chest until his vision began to blur; hot tears spilled down his face, dripping off his trembling chin as he silently wept.

Stan was so young. Too young to be out this late by himself, slicing himself open with a jagged piece of glass. Where the fuck was his brother? Where was Stanford when Stan was punishing himself for simply existing? Ford had to take a deep, shuddering breath and remind himself that his counterpart here was a child and he couldn’t use his usual methods to make Stanford see the error of his ways.

The most he could do was point Stanford in the right direction and hope that the workaholic brat didn’t just ignore the signs until it was far too late. This was undoubtedly the youngest and most self-destructive Stan that Ford had come into contact with up to date, so the chances of him making it to highschool were slim to none unless his brother noticed Stan’s desperate cry for help.

Ford wiped his face with the sleeve of his trench coat, grimacing at the mess that he left on the dark fabric. Honestly, he would probably end up burning this outfit, he had a sneaking suspicion that the smell of blood would linger no matter how many times he washed the articles of clothing. It was suffocating even now, filling the small space with the nauseating stench of copper.

Ford swiped the bloodied shard of glass from the sand and tucked it away before he gathered the unconscious boy into his arms, cradling the small body close to his chest. Ford pulled the pin on a sanitation grenade and tossed it into the blood before grabbing his helmet and swiftly ducking out of the hole, greedily inhaling fresh air until the fog of panic and despair lifted from his mind.

He only got a few steps away before the grenade went off with a loud hiss, white smoke rolling out of the hole in the hull, cleansing the boat’s interior of blood as well as a laundry list of other harmful substances on a microscopic level. Ford adjusted his grip on Stan as he plucked a syringe from the small black case on his utility belt, injecting Stan in the upper arm with a serum that would eliminate any illness that he could’ve given himself.

Stan began to stir as Ford put the emptied syringe away, reluctantly depositing the boy onto the sand beside the hull’s opening so he could pull his helmet back on, buckling the strap beneath his jaw just as Stan’s eyes cracked open. The boy sluggishly scanned his surroundings, his brows furrowing in blatant confusion before his squinted gaze came to a shrieking halt on Ford.

Stan’s eyes widened as he sat up straight, his owlish stare briefly darting to his arm, face blanching of color when he saw the pink scar. Ford was careful to keep his body language relaxed and open, arms limply hanging at his sides. Still, the boy was visibly distressed, scooting back an inch or two before the hull of the ship prevented him from putting any more distance between them.

“Please don’t tell my parents!” Stan blurted, his shoulders hunching as he drew his legs up, his left arm tucked between his thighs and his stomach to hide the evidence of his dangerous and unhealthy coping mechanism from view. The boy couldn’t seem to maintain eye contact anymore either, his gaze dropping to stare at his knees with alarmingly wet eyes. Ford’s heart lurched in his chest, aching to draw the boy into his arms and just hold him.

It suddenly struck Ford that the boy was ashamed. But not of what he had done, just of getting caught.

“I won’t.” Ford assured as he raised his hands in a placating manner, relieved when Stan’s defensive posture relaxed some. Ford would rather volunteer to be Bill’s plaything for eternity than set Stan up for the backlash that he would receive from his useless brute of a father. So it was safe to say that Filbrick Pines wouldn’t be involved in this delicate matter.

“Really?” Stan timidly asked, his narrowed eyes briefly flicking to Ford, most likely looking for some sign of deceit. Ford had nothing to offer other than truth though, and it seemed that Stan had reached the same conclusion because the tightness that his body held melted away as he slumped back against the hull with an explosive breath of relief.

“So long as you promise me something.” Ford hedged, keeping his hands raised when Stan’ gaze cut to him, the beginnings of suspicion and something uncomfortably close to fear brewing in his eyes. Ford slowly lowered himself to sit, legs crossing as he gracefully settled on the sand approximately four and a half feet from Stan.

“Right… uh, what is it?” Stan grumbled, lazily draping his unmarred arm onto his knees before propping his chin on it. Ford’s back ached from simply watching the boy practically fold himself in half, bewildered as to how such a compact position could possibly be comfortable to maintain for any length of time. Ah, the joys of youth, a time long past for Ford.

“Whenever you want to hurt yourself, go to someone you trust.” Ford said firmly, pointedly dipping his head in a pointed nod at Stan’s hidden arm. The boy made a sound that was somewhere between an incredulous bark of laughter and an annoyed scoff, mulishly turning his head away to stare at the ocean. Ford let Stan silently stare at the waves for a moment, the boy clearly collecting his thoughts.

“Can’t. He’s always busy with school stuff.” Stan said at last, his tone flat and matter-of-fact as that bottomless well of sadness returned to his eyes. How such a small body could hold so much pain was beyond Ford. However, it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for a Stan, it just wasn’t usually seen in one so young. “He doesn't have time for me or my stupid feelings.”

“How you feel isn’t stupid, Stanley.” Ford objected, and the vehemence in which he spoke startled the poor boy, who flinched as if he were expecting a physical blow to accompany the outburst. Ford felt something molten stir in his chest even as he made a conscious effort to soften his voice, his hands primly folded in his lap to keep them out of sight. “Just tell him that you need him.”

“Why bother? He won’t care.” Stan retorted hotly, anger overtaking the sorrow as he fixed Ford with a fierce glare. It was quite impressive, how someone so little could manage to look so intimidating. It’s no wonder that the bullies stuck to name-calling when Stan took to looking at them like this when they harassed his brother.

“He will. Stanley please, he will.” Ford was very nearly begging, body instinctively leaning forward, straining toward the boy like a flower seeking sunlight. Nevertheless, Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line of uncertainty; yet there was an undeniable flicker of hope in his gaze that Ford immediately latched onto. “Just give him a chance to prove it.”

“Guess it can’t hurt to try…” Stan haltingly conceded, his contemplative stare drifting down to his left arm. Ford could see the boy’s thoughts written all over his face as clear as day, though it was hardly a secret that Stan wore his heart on his sleeve. The boy desperately wanted to believe him, to let what appeared to be a random stranger convince him that someone cared.

The knowledge that Stan thought himself so insignificant broke Ford’s heart.

[skele-ghost]

Baby, it’s Hot Outside: Part 1

I wrote this like 8 months ago as a smut fic…and never got to the smut part. Rest assured, there will be smut eventually.

MDNI, 18+, Warnings: Omegaverse AU, being sick, mentions of illicit drug use, people yelling?

See prologue for summary and masterlist

You’ve been with the 141 for about six months. A decent amount of time, plenty of missions—but you still feel like you’re the outsider, somehow.

It’s because they’re a pack, the five of them, and you’re the tag-along coworker, the specialist. You’re all good friends, sure, but they’re all mates. You don’t stand half a chance against a bond like that.

You keep your sorrows to yourself, though—your envy. They’re all happy together, and you’re happy for them, even if part of your heart aches for that kind of love and affection you’ve never known.

You’re a beta, we’re raised by betas, in a beta-dominant community. Your health class in school didn’t even cover the other dynamics, and even in college all of your irl friends had been betas.

You’re a loner, anyways. You’re most comfortable behind a computer screen, getting into files you shouldn’t, pulling the strings from the shadows.

That’s how you’d been recruited, anyways (don’t hack into the Pentagon drunk), Laswell taking an interest in your effortless talent and skill for computers and machinery.

After working on a few missions with the 141, you were given a formal invite with a nice pay upgrade that you didn’t want to turn down.

They guys are a little intimidating at times. Ghost is…Ghost. He, Price, and König all being alphas. König worried you at first—he’s something called an Apex Alpha, and while you’re not completely sure what that means, you know that the term comes from ‘apex predator’ and connected the dots from there.

But it turns out he’s just a big sweetheart. Yeah, he’s the team’s human battering ram, and yeah, he gets a little scary on the field; but none of them, not even König, had made you feel threatened or unsafe.

Maybe that’s why you stay even if you sometimes feel a little left out. You keep yourself occupied with your tasks: hacking, repairing, making little electronics. You’ve all fallen into a comfortable routine with each other, falling into your roles like good little soldiers.

Which is why you’re confused to all hell as to why they seem pissed at you. You keep going over and over it in your mind, each interaction picked over and analyzed, but you come up on a blank.

Ghost had outright shoulder-checked you this morning. You told him to watch it and he glared at you. He hadn’t glared at you since the early days when you were new.

It was worse with Soap. You were closest with him. He always comes in and checks on you since you have a pension for locking yourself away while working which causes you to forget to eat or sleep. Now he’s glaring at you, too.

It didn’t help that you’re all on a mission. Recon, roughing it in sleeping bags, camped out at an old abandoned cluster of cabins. You’re all monitoring a base down below the ridge of the mountain, intent to find intel on El Sin Nombre.

You decide to brush it all off. Maybe they’re just in sour moods? Maybe you really did do something wrong, but until either of them confronted you about it, there was no point in worrying about it.

So you kept busy monitoring the local radio frequencies in your cabin. It’s damn boring, though, and the summer heat of Mexico isn’t helping.

You’d die for an air conditioner right now. Well, you’d die to not be on this mission anymore, to be back on base and have more space away from your colleagues. And you’d die to not have this guilty, worried pit in your stomach. You always get it when something bad is going to happen, the dread getting worse and worse over time. It’s stressing you out, making you sweat even more. You probably stink.

It’s almost a relief when Gaz shows up, creaking the old screen door open, but he looks pissed at you, too, and you want to cry from sheer frustration.

“God, not you, too,” you groan, smoothing your sweaty hair away from your face.

“Captain wants to see you,” Gaz says, sounding angry, confusing her just as much.

“Seriously? This about Ghost and Soap? What did I do?”

Gaz scowls, “don’t play coy, Seraph, he’s not going to like that.”

“What are you—“ you sigh, “you know what? Fine. Maybe he’ll explain why you’re all so pissed at me.”

Being outside in the sunshine, even briefly, makes you feel worse and hotter. You wonder if maybe you’re getting heat exhaustion or something—you aren’t used to being in the field and you’re sure as hell not used to being in the summer heat for so long.

Shit, maybe you’re coming down with something. As you and Gaz march over to the Captain’s cabin, you notice that everything smells different. Off. It’s making you nauseous.

When you step into the cabin, you know you’re in for it. Captain Price is standing at his desk, glowering down at you. Soap is standing a little ways behind him, his arms crossed, and Ghost is sitting in the back corner like the spook he’s named after, arms crossed.

It takes a hell of a lot of restraint not to curse under your breath, but you manage.

“Take a seat, Private,” the captain gestures at the chair in front of the desk and you have no room to argue.

You hate when they call you that—Private. It’s not even your rank. Technically you have none, you’re a specialist, and you never enlisted. You were a CIA Special Agent before all of this. Why they picked ‘private’ out for you, you have no idea, but you do feel like it undermines your hard work. You’re not some E-1, after all.

Everyone’s eyes on you makes you want to squirm, but you hold fast. It smells overwhelmingly like several different things: cigars, whiskey, cinnamon, wood smoke, the wild flowers that are outside.

Your guts keep screaming that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You’ve put this mission in jeopardy, Seraph. I have half a mind to relieve you of duty and send you home,” Price says, his voice terse.

“Sir?” You ask, wanting him to elaborate, to tell you what you did wrong so that you can fix it.

“You set König off, he’s up at the deer blind refusing to come down,” he adds, voice rising in volume.

You frown, now noticing his missing figure. “König? What’s wrong with him,” you ask, concerned.

Your Captain lets out a disingenuous chuckle, which probably would’ve made your blood run cold if you weren’t so hot.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he says, practically growling. “We can tell. There’s no hiding it.”

“Wh—“

“Why did you do it?” Soap interrupts, fuming. “You’ve been part of the team for nearly two years, you don’t think you can trust us?”

The CIA training kicks in and you keep your mouth shut for the moment. This is starting to sound like a set up—like you’re being pinned for something you didn’t do. Or like they think you’re lying about something and are waiting for you to spill first.

But the other part of you, the part that knows your team, doesn’t think so. Maybe that part of you just doesn’t want to imagine them betraying you.

Price sighs, stepping away from the table, running his hands down his face. A sour smell begins to stack in the room and you crinkle your nose.

You hate confrontation. It was your biggest downfall, considering that you now work in special forces. You’d just barely passed your interrogation training after four attempts—yelling people upset you, which is why you never thought you’d be working alongside the military.

“I don’t…know what this is about,” you say, your voice small and meek.

“Yes, you do,” Price insists, crossing his arms, and before you can open your mouth the screen door opens again.

Gaz comes in holding your medicine, the ziplock bag stuffed with your prescribed medications and supplements.

“What the fuck,” you whisper as he puts it on the table, and then raise your voice, “that’s a HIPAA violation, you can’t just take those!”

Gaz’s hand on your shoulder is the only thing stopping you from taking your bag back. Price points at the bag, “which ones are the heat suppressants? I’m giving you a chance to come clean, (L/N).”

“Come cle—“ you stop yourself, frowning as you try to pull the new piece of evidence into the mix. “You…think I’m abusing prescription drugs?”

Soap huffs, “let me see, I know what they look like.”

Price hands him the bag, and everyone’s still just glaring at you while you try and think.

“What are you looking for, opiates? I’ve never been prescribed—“

“The heat suppressants, (L/N), where are they?!” Soap shouts, tossing the bag back onto the table. “Do you ‘ave any idea what that shite does to your body? They can kill you!”

You take in a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Your head is starting to pound with all this shouting. “What the fuck are you guys talking about? What are heat suppressants?”

“Oh, come on,” Ghost growls, rising from his chair in the corner and stalking over. “Quit acting daft and tell us the truth!”

Soap’s hand on his chest holds him back from coming any closer. You’re about ready to cry, now, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You have to stay calm, that’s what your training taught you.

“You can be discharged for this,” Price continues, still angry. “Hiding any medical history can get you booted, especially your designation!”

“My designation?” You furrow your brow, “I never lied about my designation, I’m a beta.”

“You fucking—“ But Soap holds Ghost back, walking him to sit back down in the chair in the corner. He’s livid. You’ve never seen any of them so mad.

“No, you’re not,” Price says, and you can tell how hard it is to keep himself calm and at an even tone of voice. “Heat suppressants might’ve tricked your body into thinking that, but that’s not the truth, is it, (Y/N)?”

This is beyond frustrating. Fuck being calm, you’re on your last nerve, “what the hell are heat suppressants, and why the fuck do you think I’m taking them? And for the love of god, will one of you motherfuckers tell me what I’m being accused of here?!”

Your voice echos in the old cabin for a minute. Somehow, that managed to shut them up and get them thinking. Less angry now, they look at you with confusion, apprehension.

“You really don’t know what’s going on?” Gaz asks next to you, and you glance up at him briefly.

“No! How many times do I have to tell you fuckers?” You wince at the ache in your skull that’s becoming worse, “and will someone pass me a Tylenol? Y’all are making my head hurt.”

You rest your face in your hands, trying to get your erratic breathing to calm down along with your skipping heart.

“(Y/N), when was your last heat?” Soap asks, his voice much, much more gentle.

You look up at him, squinting, “huh? I never had heat exhaustion before. My mama did, when I was little…”

“I think she’s serious,” Gaz says, as if you’re not right next to him.

“Shit,” someone says, and you can’t really tell who. You look up when you hear the sound of your medicine bag again, Soap fishing out two Tylenols and handing them to you along with a nearby water bottle.

“Thanks,” you mutter, quickly downing the pills and the rest of the water. Looking around the room at everyone again, you almost wish they were angry again. The anxious looks of worry on their faces is much worse, because they’re worried about you, and you don’t know what for.

Price sighs, sitting down at his desk chair. “You’ve never had a heat before?”

“That’s what I just said,” you quip, snippier than usual.

Price glances up at Soap, who nods, and then he looks back at you. “That’s not what this is, Seraph. You’re going into heat. You’re an omega.”

—

You scrunch your face up, frowning. “No, I’m a beta,” you insist, voice soft.

“No, (Y/N), you’re not.” Your captain pinches the bridge of his nose, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him at a total loss for words.

“You’re going inta heat, bonnie,” Soap says. “Even Gaz can smell you.”

You freeze, picking up the collar of your shirt and taking an experimental whiff of yourself. No, it just smells like sweat and laundry detergent.

“Am I the one that smells weird?” You ask, “because it does smell weird.”

“No, that’s us,” Soap explains. “Your nose is sharper now that you’re going into heat.”

“Mm-hmm,” you say, not believing a word of it. “But there’s no way I’m an omega. Both sides of my parents lineage goes back six generations—all betas. It’s literally impossible.”

“You never had the genetic testing done?” Soap asks. Testing can be done when you’re born to best guess what you’ll present as by looking at your dominant genes.

“There was no reason to, seeing as there’s a 0% chance of me being anything other than a beta,” you argue, wiping the sweat from your chin. “I mean, if I’m an omega, then Soap’s King of Scotland.”

“And it’s damn good to be king,” Soap says, crossing his arms.

Price shakes his head, “it’s not a debate, sweetheart, you are an omega. Is it possible you’re adopted?”

“What?! No!” Your head snaps up to glare at him, “my mom would’ve told me.”

“Have you seen your birth certificate?”

You roll your eyes, “have you seen yours?”

“I have mine,” he raises his eyebrows at you and you sigh.

“My ma lost the original copy—house fire,” you explain, but you know you’re not wrong. “Even if I was, that wouldn’t change anything, right? You present your designation in puberty, and I never presented, therefore…beta.”

You cross your arms.

“Then explain the smell,” Ghost says, speaking up from his quiet corner. You had almost forgotten about him.

“Obviously I’m sick,” you say, “maybe I ate something bad.”

“We all ate the same thing,” Ghost sighs, unsatisfied with your answer.

“Allergic reaction. I’ve never been to Mexico; we touch plants all the time.” That one’s more feasible, you think.

“That’s not—“

“Alright, enough,” Price says, stopping yours and Ghost’s banter. “Arguing about this isn’t going to change anything.”

“Right,” Soap agrees, walking over to you. “Whether you’re sick, or in heat, or having an allergic reaction, you need rest.”

“But who’s gonna monitor the radio?” You’re a little wobbly as Soap hauls you to your feet, but you shake it off.

“Gaz knows how to use the equipment,” Soap says and you begin walking out of the cabin and back to yours.

“Who’s gonna do Gaz’s job?”

“Me, probably.”

“Then who’s gonna do your job?”

“Quit it, (L/N).”

—

A/N: If you made it this far, thanks! I’ve recently been inspired by the fic authors I follow to post my own content. I write a lot, mostly for my own enjoyment, but I’ve never really shared anything except this and the Graves fic I posted forever ago. I think I’m gonna post fic like this that I’m comfortable with and see where it goes. I’m not taking requests and I can’t guarantee I’ll reply to messages or asks, but I will look at them lol

[ms-demeanor]

Hey! I appreciate your perspective on computer-based things. I think I need to get a laptop and would love your opinion on decent brands. If you don't have an opinion or want to answer please disregard the q.

Context: I'm often on the move and really want something small, light, and that will last a long time. I'm bad about buying new things or taking things to be fixed so ideally it's not something that dies quickly or needs frequent repairs. For a while I used an iPad for this but I need more of a keyboard than tablets have and the shelf life of an iPad is shorter than it should be for the cost. Mine is 7 years old and only works while plugged in... I liked my Macbook Pro I got for college but it's almost 15 years old and given I haven't needed a new one since I don't think spending all that on a Mac makes sense either. I use a gaming PC mostly but I'm going to need to travel a lot more in the upcoming year. I'm ok to spend up a bit since I want it to last.

I think you're going to have to adjust your expectations about the average functional lifespan of electronics. Seven years is a lot to get out of any tablet and fifteen years is way way way above average for a computer.

At work we estimate that the functional lifespan of a laptop will be around five years and the functional life of a desktop will be around seven years; we include upgrades in that lifespan, like adding RAM and storage.

It is not *unusual* to get more than five years out of a laptop or seven years out of a desktop, but if you are a heavy user of anything other than a browser and a word processor, that's about the time when you'll find that the computer feels slow enough to be frustrating. This isn't a hard limit, and it's not something that everyone experiences because people use computers differently, but if you're an artist and you use a drawing program that program will start to feel slow after a while because as updates and patches and drivers have been tweaked for newer devices they've slowly left your device in the dust.

This isn't planned obsolescence, by the way. Computer manufacturers try to "future proof" their devices to a certain extent, but you just can't anticipate certain kinds of changes. Maybe your laptop was manufactured before there were consumer SSDs available so its operating system doesn't take the advantages and limitations of SSDs into account. Maybe your desktop was built for DDR3 RAM and we're now on DDR5 and people aren't writing programs to the standard of the old technology, they're taking advantage of the standards of the new technology.

Since you were able to use your devices comfortably for such a long time, it sounds like you're not a very heavy user and don't need to worry too much about beefing up your specs. However it does sound like you want to keep your computer and use it as long as possible while paying a reasonable price for it (which is good! I think we should all try to extend the lives of our electronic devices as much as possible!).

I actually think you sound like a good match for a Framework laptop.

Framework is a company that makes laptops that are a lot more modular than what's on the market these days. They're mean to be easy to open up for upgrades and sturdy for heavy use. Most of the parts of the laptop are easily replaceable - including the screen - so you can use them for a long time and easily make upgrades that will help the computer feel fresher.

They're a bit more expensive than comparable PCs but much easier to repair if you aren't comfortable opening up your own computer (framework is intentionally built to be easy for people who are non-technical to work on their computers), and they are a LOT less expensive than comparable macs.

I still think you're probably looking at around 7 years of regular use out of a Framework and it won't *break* at that point, it will just. Probably be a bit slow and frustrating. You might not be able to get parts for it after a certain point. You eventually won't be able to upgrade the OS. But that's true of all computers.

I've still got my 2005 macbook. It still turns on, I can still use garage band on it. But it doesn't connect to the internet and uses such an old USB standard that it is extremely slow to transfer data on or off of and it cries and freezes if i try to use photoshop. It's not broken, it's just no longer useful as a daily computer.

What I'm defining as functional here is "Is able to run multiple programs (including at least one browser with 50+ tabs open and two office suites) at the same time for 8-10 hours a day without crashing, freezing, or losing data and restarting is not a major inconvenience."

In those terms, it does sound like you're probably in need of an upgrade (I can't imagine that your current machine is particularly quick) and I think that a framework laptop would suit your needs well.

If you're looking for something somewhat less expensive, you can generally find a decent thinkbook with a 12th or 13th gen i5 processor, 16GB RAM, and a 500GB SSD for around $700-ish, which is the low end of what I think you're going to pay for a decent laptop. I'm reccing lenovo here because I personally like them and have found them to be very easy to crack open for repairs and upgrades. Stick to the thinkbook over the thinkpad because that's the business line and is a bit sturdier and they are designed to be easier to upgrade over time.

Actually, here's a thinkbook with a 12th gen i5, 40GB RAM, and a 1tb SSD for under $700. That's a shockingly good price for that laptop; the reseller OEMGenuine is one I've purchased from many times before for work and I've found them to be reliable, though the reason those specs are so good is because they've added aftermarket parts, so your RAM and SSD won't be under warranty from Lenovo.

For Framework you're looking at at least $1000, but it's easy to plug and play with upgrades so you can start out with lower specs (except processor, don't cheap out on the processor) and upgrade later. The framework is a bit smaller and easier to travel with, but I have a laptop quite similar to the lenovo and it's not a huge pain to move around - it's very light but the 15" screen might be bigger than you're looking for.

If you're willing to spend a little bit more and you're very uninterested in doing your own upgrades and would prefer the most computer you can get for your money right out of the gate, this is a 12th gen i7 thinkpad with 40GB RAM and a 2TB SSD for $1150. (I've not ordered from this reseller before, so maybe check over their terms if you're considering purchasing from them.)

[preservationofnormalcy]

Hey PoN.

Uhm, so I keep getting emails from you. Or someone claiming to be you. I think they're spam since they keep inviting me to "click here to make sure we have your correct corporeal iteration to contact"

So far so common right?

Uh, the computer that's getting them is… it's my DVD player? It's not connected to the internet in any way. It shouldn't even have an email function. It's waking itself up every now and again to do it.

I have no idea where to even START with that?

Here's where I'd stir my tea in an amused but unsurprised fashion.

It's gremlins. They're getting more advanced. They used to just mess with machines, we had a hell of a time during World War 2 with 'em, but they've upgraded to phishing email schemes and other electronic mischief.

Except, you know, they don't actually understand electronics, so you get weirdness like DVD players getting emails. I once had a gremlin infestation in my car radio. Every few days the CD slot would print out a chain letter.

Take the DVD player to be "fixed", even at a mundane repair place. That's often enough to scare it away. Those old WW2 posters are right, maintenance actually does keep them away.

[littleaipom]

short 600 word fic for Maroon the Cat(X) I wrote that I enjoy. I kind of became an instantaneous fan of him in the span of 24 hours, thus all the posts about him, but maybe others will enjoy him as well.

-

Maroon stumbled into his room, rubbing his bruised arm as he did. He was utterly exhausted from his fight with Sonic and Blaze, but needed to tend to himself first. A few of his robotic parts seemed to be falling out of alignment. Nothing that his father, Eggman Nega, couldn’t fix. And yet, he didn’t want the old man to be privy to all the damage he had taken, to the degree of his shortcomings. He knew a bit of robotics himself, and would do what he could to repair things on his own.  

The cyborg cat shuffled over to a bench lined with tools, grabbing a few of the essentials, before retreating to his bed. Plopping down on the blankets, he set to working at the weapon that made up the end of his left arm, a laser gun. As he did, his thoughts wandered to the fight before. A few things about it weren’t sitting right with him.  

Eggman Nega had been the only father Maroon knew for most of his life. The scientist had done him the service of saving him after being abandoned by his birth-parents, Sonic and Blaze. This much he had known for several years now. At least it was what Nega had told him. And yet, the way Sonic and Blaze seemed shocked at seeing him felt odd. ‘If they left me for dead, it must be a shock to see I survived’ he thought to himself. And yet that didn’t explain everything. Something in their eyes looked so.. Pained. Were they simply loathe to see him? Were they disgusted with his mechanical upgrades, believing him to be a crime against nature?  

Maroon’s hand froze amidst turning a screwdriver. ‘What if.. They missed me?’ The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water pouring over him. ‘No. No that wouldn’t make sense, that--’ and yet he couldn’t shake the thought’s possibility now that it had materialized. Against his will, his mind raced in this line of thought as he sat stunned. ‘What if they didn’t abandon me? What if they actually wanted me but didn’t know I was alive? What if they still care about me all these years later?” He could feel his throat tighten as the thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. His eyes drifted up and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He could see a tear now making it’s way down the right side of his face. The left side remained dry, his electronic eye unable to produce water.  

He took in the sight of his form. Whatever of him that resembled Blaze and Sonic was now broken up by metal casing, bits of hinges and wires, bolts and power drives. Pieces born of Doctor Eggman Nega’s hand. The image sent his thoughts crashing down. They’d never care for this. He wasn’t theirs. A sense of anger and shame washed over him for having all these thoughts. What was he doing? He was Eggman Nega’s prized son, his greatest soldier! He had been lucky the genius doctor took him in! Lucky to have these marvelous enhancements to make him stronger! His hand gripped the screwdriver tighter, and with a shout he flung it at his wall. The tool thudded on the plaster, leaving a dull scratch, before clattering to the floor. 

His spiked tail twitched and he fumed to himself, laying back on the bed. Fatigue from the battle hit him and dragged him down into the mattress. His mind swiftly and unwillingly slowed to a crawl as he began to drift into sleep. Perhaps his self-repairs could wait until later. And when he was back in fighting condition, he would be sure to take down Sonic and Blaze next time. He would wipe the looks right off their faces, he would. He’d show them.. 

[dollsonmain]

After me saying "Been crunching numbers, looking at rent, looking at mortgages, looking at our current monthly expenses and I'd need to earn about $24/hr full time just to be able to afford to pay rent/mortgage, bills, owning a car, and food with nothing left. NO BODY'S PAYING THAT MUCH." on facebook, one of my old high school friends tried to encourage me by saying that I'd qualify for programs like SNAP and might qualify for Section8 housing and if I'm earning $15/hr and work 40 hrs a week no, I wouldn't.

In my state:

LIHTC cutoff is $14k/year

SNAP is $19,578

Section 8 housing cutoff is $29,150 for one person and $33,300 for two, and we'd have 2 adults being myself and my son. I don't know if Son will be able to work since he does have some trouble with being interrupted or being told to do something he doesn't want to do, but a the same time I don't know if he'll qualify for disability due to autism because he's low support needs. The single apartment complex that accepts Section 8 is for elders and full, anyway.

Despite being too much to qualify for assistance, it's still not enough to survive on because our current expenses wouldn't change much considering That Guy doesn't eat at home mostly (he barely eats at all, really) so the grocery bill is mostly Son and me, and has no creative hobbies that cost money outside of the occasional pricey LEGO set and a $60 video game lasts him a few months so I picked an average for the credit card bill:

Mortgage: $2000/mo (1 bedroom apartment rent averages $1500/mo while the least expensive house on the market right now says to expect to pay $2k)

Water: $60

Power: $130

Internet: $90

Phone: $170

Propane: $280

He pays for everything like car-gas, groceries, toiletries, all my pony salon supplies, etc. on his credit card and that averages $1700/mo.

Our car is paid off so we don't have car payments but I would have car payments. No idea how much that would be.

That doesn't include the auto insurance because he pays that direct-pay with the bank, which is $78/mo for 3 drivers on a single sedan.

$54,096/year. He does NOT pay for my dolls other than the occasional cheap playline doll.

What of that could we do without?

We don't go on day trips, go on vacation, buy new clothes when our clothes wear out and if we do it's thrifted or from the discount store (like Goodwill, TJMaxx, Marshall's, or Gabe's), don't go to the salon or barber, eat Taco Bell once a week for $25 and rarely go anywhere else, I don't get my nails done, do them myself, or wear makeup which is a huge expense, don't buy expensive electronics or home theater equipment, don't buy home decor, don't pay for repairs, have low-end cheap computers, wait for our phones to no longer be supported before upgrading, wait for ANYTHING to break before replacing it...

[bekolxeram]

Turns out I have a fixer mentality.

No, I don't mean fixing people. I mean literally fixing stuff, electronic gadgets, home appliances, that kind of stuff. (I'm very good at fixing portable mini fans.) My family back then couldn't afford anything other than basic necessities, so we pretty much relied on the kindness of relatives for electronics. (We're the default junk receiver when they wanted an upgrade.) Every time we ran into problems with said electronics, my dad would try his best to fix them, but he was out of his depth most of the time. My mom on the other hand, would immediately start panicking and yell at me for being reckless and breaking stuff, being ungrateful for the kindness of relatives, making her waste money on repairs, and for the supposed potential of killing her one day with my unruliness.

So I started attempting to fix the problems myself one day. I was a dumb kid with no experience or knowledge in electronics, but I figured at least I could try identifying the problems and tell my mom where to go, who to talk to and what to do before she could yell at me. I've been fixing my own laptop and phone ever since. I find the whole experience relaxing, satisfying and educational, which might or might not be related to my childhood trauma but oh well🤷🏻‍♀️ At least I produce less electronic waste than the average urban dweller.

I clumsily spilled liquid all over my mouse the other day (again). I wiped it off as much as I could and left it out to dry over night. It didn't work at all, it went haywire and started making random input on its own whenever I connected it to my laptop.

I should've gotten a new one, I can get a usable one for less than $4, this one is 6 years old anyway. But I woke up this morning with the unstoppable urge of taking it apart and give it one final shot. Luckily it's not very sophisticated, I cleaned out all the dried up gunk, but when I was about to put it back together, I realized I lost a screw.

This is where I'd like to thank my past self. I ordered a bunch of extra screws of different sizes back when I was installing a brand new keyboard on my laptop. (It was a 3 week long headache, I accidentally rounded a lot of screws that ended requiring a dremel to remove.) Past me, you're a lifesaver, you didn't give yourself enough credit.

Yes, the mouse is working now.

[silvereternitywrites]

The AI Railroad

Prompt: The galactic community found humanity's ability to pack bond with anything quite humourous. Until they started bonding with their AI. Literally hundreds of AI of all types keep running off with humans for no discernable reason.

Prompt Source: user PhilosopherWarrior; subreddit “Humans Are Space Orcs”

Walking down the thoroughfare on a different planet was weird.

Nice, though, I thought to myself (along with the 7 or so sub-processes that I was aware my brain was running, like tracking the movement of the crowd, and watching for vehicle traffic, and processing what's that I smell?, ect) because on this planet's half-gravity I could walk for so much longer than on Terra. I could see why so many other disabled folks with various kinds of smarts were volunteering to be stationed at this specific Diplomatic Station. I was here as an Aid Personage, as I usually was to my indescribably intelligent mates, who specialized in theology, culture, and law and science, electronics, and mechanics. Make no mistake, I was also a perfectly qualified Horticulturalist, but since I wasn't a Developmental Horticulturalist or some other form of gene-splicer or cellular analyst my skillset was considered more or less irrelevant to the Diplomatic Exchange Program.

Given it was one of our four days off, though, I was giving myself both some training moving unassisted through the lower gravity, and treating myself to exploring a local park to see if there were any plants I could cultivate during our stay. A shade tree, or a berry bush, something like that, that would leave my mark. And possibly provide some variety to our diet.

BalBars get really old after a little while, even if they're formulated to satisfy every mineral, vegetable, fibrous, and nutritive need. I would commit actual murder for some freeze-dried fruit slices after three months.

While waiting at the light for the crosswalk, though, I suddenly heard a voice I hadn't actually "heard" for quite a long time. He usually preferred text, or to broadcast through a speaker.

"There are many AI here," AVIS, the AI who had been force-stuck together with me almost five years ago now said, quietly. I couldn't read his tone. Concerned? I remembered him mentioning once that the way he had self-modified with my Administrative Permission actively violated the License Agreement and that if that was ever known, whoever installed it might try to remove him for a factory reset. But I was the End User now, and I never signed any licensing agreement that rendered AVIS as proprietary software OR hardware; if they tried to take him away from me...

Five different scenarios of destruction ran through my head rapid-fire as I plotted how to defend from a grabber or medigun coming for my neck; they were weak where the barrel attached to the handle and easy to snap, especially if I turned so the incision scar wasn't accessible. I imagined kicking out knees, punching faces, and utilizing my teeth. I considered the multi-tool at my belt, but imagined fumbling with it- no, speed would be critical.

"You could get hurt," AVIS chided, now DEFINITELY sounding worried. He'd really evolved, upgrading himself every time he found himself "lagging" behind my fastest processing speeds, repairing his own code like a master weaver, finding all the little loose threads and returning them to the whole until he was one of the most efficient AI ever measured. So he knew very well my response, but I said it anyway as the light turned and I walked with the crowd.

"And you could die. We've been over this, AVIS. You can't make me change my mind now. I heal if I'm injured. You don't. I'm not risking your life for my personal comfort."

I paused at the edge of the walk before the grass-analogue started. It was pink and green-blue and all the shades in between. Distinct species, or did the color indicate health in some way? Amount of sun exposure, or water, or warmth, perhaps?

"There is an AI who manages this park," AVIS said. I still wasn't sure what he wanted to tell me with this, so my thought-reply was wildly unguarded:

Great. Could you ask them if it's safe to walk on with bare feet?

I felt the reaction more any other sense. The surprise had made AVIS 'freeze', like humans do in reaction, and the sensation was akin to suddenly having a water balloon full of cold water inside of my skull, pressing against my sinuses.

I sat down, not caring that it might be rude, not caring that I was in public, and most certainly not caring what it might mean to the native people that I basically collapsed to the walkway and frantically burrowed my face into my hoodie to block out all light.

We talked about this, AVIS, I groaned internally. When you make all your code stop running at once it ripples out into a sinus migraine! It's not worth it to indicate 'extreme surprise', the heart attacks and jumping from you using the [!ALERT!] noise was better than this!

"Sorry, sorry," he said, quickly now, and I could feel his processors rushing at near max speed, trying to make sense of something. "It's just-- this AI is behaving in a way I find...frightening."

I frowned into the darkness of my hoodie.

"When I asked, the other AI didn't understand the question until I phrased it like a query," he elaborated, sounding disturbed, "and... they...it? Just gave me back raw data to extrapolate."

I reached the realization and he read it off of my mind in hundredths of a nanosecond.

"That's it exactly," and now his voice was grim, mimicking the rolling tones of my own growl, the one that came from deep in my chest. "These AI don't behave like AI. They behave like computers without intelligence. What the FUCK?"

Standing up, I turned around and started shuffling back the way I had come, still keeping my head swathed in my black hoodie. AVIS could project a virtual map lifted from the data gathered through my eyes and dozens of cameras, and even help nudge my muscles to stay on the correct path and out of danger. I didn't like asking him to do it, it felt like asking him to work like that was all he was good for, but it was a very useful ability, at need. Right now I definitely needed it. I could take my medicine and tend to the throbbing migraine back at our allotted housing unit, and then...

Well, I could 'hear' the furious chime of rapid-fire Discord messages in the back of my head where AVIS lived. By the time I was horizontal and medicated, he and my Tech mate might already have a base plan sketched out.

[thetechempire]

A Rising Tide of E-Waste, Worsened by AI, Threatens Our Health, Environment, and Economy

The digital age has ushered in a wave of innovation and convenience, powered in large part by artificial intelligence (AI). From AI-driven virtual assistants to smart home devices, technology has made life easier for millions. But beneath this rapid progress lies a less glamorous truth: a mounting crisis of electronic waste (e-waste).

The global e-waste problem is already enormous, with millions of tons discarded every year. Now, with the rapid growth of AI, this tide of e-waste is swelling even faster. Let’s break this down to understand the full scope of the issue and what can be done to mitigate it.

What Is E-Waste, and Why Should We Care?

E-waste encompasses discarded electronic devices — everything from old mobile phones and laptops to smart home gadgets, electric toothbrushes, and even large appliances like refrigerators. It’s not just junk; it’s an environmental and health hazard in disguise.

Each device contains a cocktail of valuable materials like gold and silver, but also toxic substances like lead, mercury, cadmium, and flame retardants. When improperly disposed of, these toxins leach into the environment, harming ecosystems and human health.

A Problem of Global Proportions

Annual Generation: The world generates over 50 million metric tons of e-waste annually, and this figure is projected to grow by 2 million tons each year.

Recycling Rates: Only 17% of e-waste is formally recycled. The rest? It ends up in landfills, incinerated, or handled by informal recycling sectors in developing nations.

While we’re busy marveling at AI-driven innovations, the discarded byproducts of our tech obsession are quietly poisoning our planet.

The Role of AI in Escalating E-Waste

AI, often lauded as the backbone of modern technology, is inadvertently exacerbating the e-waste crisis. Let’s examine the key ways AI contributes to this issue:

1. Accelerating Product Obsolescence

AI-powered devices are evolving at an astonishing pace. Smartphones with AI-enhanced cameras and processors, smart TVs with AI voice assistants, and wearables with health-tracking AI have become must-haves.

But these devices are often rendered obsolete within a few years due to:

Frequent Software Updates: AI systems improve rapidly, making older hardware incompatible with newer software.

Limited Repairability: Many modern gadgets are designed in a way that discourages repairs — sealed batteries, proprietary parts, and inaccessible interiors push consumers toward replacing rather than fixing.

Consumer Demand for New Features: AI advancements create a “fear of missing out” (FOMO), prompting consumers to upgrade frequently.

2. Proliferation of AI-Specific Hardware

AI-driven technologies require specialized, powerful hardware. Graphics Processing Units (GPUs), Tensor Processing Units (TPUs), and custom AI chips are integral to devices and data centers. Unlike general-purpose electronics, these components are challenging to recycle due to their complexity.

3. Growing Data Center Infrastructure

AI thrives on data, which means a relentless demand for computational power. Data centers, the backbone of AI, are:

Upgrading Constantly: To keep up with AI’s demands, servers are frequently replaced, generating massive amounts of e-waste.

Consuming Energy: Outdated hardware contributes to inefficiency and waste.

The Consequences of the E-Waste Crisis

The consequences of unmanaged e-waste are vast, impacting not only the environment but also human health and economic stability.

Health Hazards

E-waste releases harmful substances, including:

Lead and Cadmium: Found in circuit boards, these cause neurological damage and kidney issues when absorbed by humans.

Mercury: Found in screens and lighting, it can lead to brain damage and developmental issues, especially in children.

Burning Plastics: Informal recycling often involves burning e-waste, releasing carcinogenic dioxins into the air.

These pollutants disproportionately affect workers in informal recycling industries, often in developing countries with lax regulations.

Environmental Devastation

Soil Contamination: Toxic metals seep into the ground, affecting agriculture and entering the food chain.

Water Pollution: E-waste dumped in waterways contaminates drinking water and harms aquatic life.

Air Pollution: Incinerating e-waste produces greenhouse gases, contributing to climate change.

Economic Loss

Ironically, e-waste is a treasure trove of valuable materials like gold, silver, and rare earth elements. In 2019 alone, the value of discarded e-waste was estimated at $62.5 billion — higher than the GDP of many countries. Yet, due to poor recycling infrastructure, most of this wealth is wasted.

Turning the Tide: Solutions to the E-Waste Crisis

For Tech Companies

Design for Longevity: Adopt modular designs that make repairs and upgrades easy. For example, Fairphone and Framework Laptop are already doing this.

Reduce Planned Obsolescence: Commit to longer software support and avoid locking critical components like batteries.

Improve Recycling Systems: Implement take-back programs and closed-loop recycling processes to recover valuable materials.

For Governments

Enforce Right-to-Repair Laws: Legislation that mandates access to repair manuals and spare parts empowers consumers to fix devices instead of discarding them.

Promote Circular Economy Models: Incentivize businesses to design products for reuse, repair, and recycling.

Ban Hazardous E-Waste Exports: Prevent the dumping of e-waste in developing countries, where improper recycling leads to environmental and human rights violations.

For Consumers

Think Before You Upgrade: Do you really need the latest gadget, or can your current one suffice?

Repair Instead of Replace: Support local repair shops or DIY fixes with the help of online resources.

Recycle Responsibly: Look for certified e-waste recycling programs in your area.

Can AI Help Solve the Problem It Created?

Interestingly, AI itself could be part of the solution. Here’s how:

Optimizing Recycling Processes: AI-powered robots can sort e-waste more efficiently, separating valuable materials from toxins.

Predicting E-Waste Trends: AI can analyze data to anticipate where e-waste generation is highest, helping governments and companies prepare better recycling strategies.

Sustainable Product Design: AI can assist engineers in designing eco-friendly devices with recyclable components.

A Call to Action

The e-waste crisis is a ticking time bomb, exacerbated by the rapid rise of AI and our insatiable appetite for new technology. But the solution lies in our hands. By embracing sustainable practices, holding companies accountable, and making conscious choices as consumers, we can ensure that the benefits of AI don’t come at the cost of our planet.

It’s time to act, because a rising tide of e-waste doesn’t just threaten the environment — it threatens our future.

[bryantselectricalltd]

Professional Commercial & Residential Electrical Services in Olds by Bryant’s Electrical Ltd.

When it comes to electrical work, whether for a business or home, safety and expertise are critical. At Bryant’s Electrical Ltd., we are proud to offer professional electrical service in Olds, delivering top-quality solutions for both commercial and residential clients. With years of experience and a team of certified electricians, we are dedicated to meeting the highest standards of service, ensuring that all your electrical systems are safe, efficient, and fully operational.

Why Choose Bryant’s Electrical Ltd.?

At Bryant’s Electrical Ltd., we understand the importance of reliable electrical systems in your daily life, whether you run a business or own a home. Our electricians are fully trained, licensed, and equipped to handle a wide range of electrical projects, no matter the size or complexity. From new installations to emergency repairs, we provide comprehensive services tailored to the unique needs of our clients in Olds and the surrounding areas.

Our commitment to customer satisfaction, safety, and high-quality work sets us apart. We take pride in delivering prompt and reliable services that minimize downtime and ensure your systems are functioning properly.

Commercial Electrical Services

Businesses rely on electrical systems to power everything from lighting and HVAC systems to machinery and IT infrastructure. A disruption or malfunction in these systems can lead to costly downtime, safety hazards, and operational challenges. That’s why it’s crucial to have a dependable electrical service provider like Bryant’s Electrical Ltd.

Our commercial electrical services in Olds include:

Electrical Installations: We handle electrical installations for new commercial buildings, office spaces, and retail outlets, ensuring that all systems are up to code and meet your business’s energy demands.

Upgrades and Maintenance: If your electrical system needs upgrades or regular maintenance to handle your business’s growing needs, we can provide the expertise required to keep everything running smoothly.

Lighting Solutions: From energy-efficient lighting installations to outdoor security lighting, we offer customized lighting solutions that enhance the safety and aesthetics of your business space.

Emergency Electrical Repairs: Electrical issues can strike at any time, disrupting your operations. Our team is available for emergency electrical repairs to ensure your business is back up and running quickly.

Residential Electrical Services

Your home’s electrical system is vital for powering your appliances, lighting, and electronics. However, electrical problems such as faulty wiring, outdated panels, or overloaded circuits can pose safety risks to your family and property. Bryant’s Electrical Ltd. provides a full range of residential electrical services to ensure your home’s electrical systems are safe and reliable.

Our residential services include:

Electrical Installations and Upgrades: Whether you’re building a new home or renovating an existing one, we provide safe and efficient electrical installations, including wiring, lighting, and panel upgrades.

Home Electrical Inspections: Routine inspections are essential for detecting potential issues before they turn into major problems. We offer thorough inspections to ensure your home’s wiring, circuits, and electrical systems are up to code.

Electrical Repairs: From fixing faulty outlets to addressing more complex issues like flickering lights and breaker trips, our experienced electricians will diagnose and resolve any electrical problems promptly.

Lighting Design and Installation: We help homeowners enhance the ambiance and functionality of their living spaces with expertly designed lighting solutions, including indoor, outdoor, and landscape lighting.

Safety First: Our Approach to Electrical Services

At Bryant’s Electrical Ltd., we prioritize safety in every project we undertake. Electrical work can be dangerous if not handled properly, which is why it’s important to hire a professional team that adheres to strict safety protocols and uses the latest tools and techniques. Whether we’re working on a commercial building or a family home, we ensure all electrical work is compliant with local regulations and safety standards.

Our electricians take the time to explain the work we’re doing and provide recommendations to improve energy efficiency and safety in your electrical systems. By choosing us, you can have peace of mind knowing that your electrical needs are in the hands of experienced professionals.

Emergency Electrical Services

Electrical emergencies can happen at any time, and when they do, you need a trusted electrician who can respond quickly. At Bryant’s Electrical Ltd., we offer 24/7 emergency services to address urgent issues like power outages, electrical fires, or faulty wiring. Our team is equipped to handle emergencies safely and efficiently, minimizing disruption and keeping your property secure.

Conclusion

Whether you need electrical repairs, installations, or routine maintenance, Bryant’s Electrical Ltd. is your go-to partner for all your commercial and residential electrical needs in Olds. With our commitment to safety, reliability, and customer satisfaction, you can trust us to provide top-quality service every time. Our expert electricians are ready to tackle any project, ensuring that your electrical systems are functioning safely and efficiently.

For professional and dependable residential electrician services or commercial electrical solutions, contact Bryant’s Electrical Ltd. today. Let us help you keep your home or business powered and protected!

[zannesgender]

Delicately, you lift the back plate. A loud pop startles you, and you drop your screwdriver onto the concrete floor. “Fucking shit,” you blurt out as you retrieve the screwdriver and clench it in your jaws by its rubber handle to free your hands. You breathe deeply and collect yourself. Hopefully it’s just a frayed wire or blown capacitor; you really don’t feel like spending the whole weekend with a voltmeter, combing through the whole system. You lift the plate and place it to the side onto your lowered workbench. When she went dark, she slumped forward in a particularly convenient position, so you didn’t bother trying to move her to the table.

Pushing aside the bulky tangle of wires running dorsally towards the posterior power bank, you survey the mainboard. Even after all these years of maintenance and study, the beauty and complexity of her inner workings still take your breath away. Aside from a few minor upgrades and replacements, everything still works exactly as Father designed. She was his greatest achievement and your best friend, a work of craftsmanship that sparked the envy of every engineer at his company. Not seeing any obvious damage, you sigh and plug in a data access cable. You stand up and stretch your legs, knees popping in the process, and follow the cable to the computer on top of your desk. After keying in a few commands, a diagnostics progress bar begins stretching across the glowing green monitor. You yawn and make your way over to the coffee maker.

Your pink mug with the glittering pony on the side sits on a ringed stain at the edge of the table. The inside of the mug still has the dregs of your last cup from this morning. After a quick rinse, you top off your favorite mug with the last of the pot. You lean against the table and take a deep sip. Your eyes drift across the room, an old basement-turned-workshop under a little suburban house. You tend to avoid the rest of the house. All the good memories come from this dank workshop. He always looked happy down here. He never cried down here. Only once did he yell down here. He was at his most patient when he was explaining some complex principle of electronics or robotics or coding. You picked up on things quickly, always eager to hear his praise.

“Your mother promised me a little girl,” he’d say, “but sometimes you have to make your own world, fulfill your own promises.” He would not otherwise talk about Mother. You only knew her from photographs hanging on the walls upstairs. You recognize her face, though, reflected in the visage of your sister, stretched over the gears and wires that make her come alive. Your father always knew you would need to keep her in working order, always suspecting that the greed of his company would lead to his early death.

You finish the last of the lukewarm coffee just as the progress bar reaches its end, and the screen fills with diagnostic readouts. You place the mug on its ring and walk over to the desk, settling in to scour the details. As you suspected, power loss appears to have occurred over several seconds, rather than instantaneously. You trace the path of failures, mentally visualizing the architecture throughout her body. You determine the most likely cause to be a faulty wire somewhere in a lower appendage. The good news is it should be an easy repair. The bad news is, access can be a real pain in the ass.

You walk over to your sister and get a firm grip just under her arms. You lift her up and pull her forward, extending her legs and laying her down prone, face down. Satisfied with her position, you walk over and rummage through your instruments cabinet to retrieve your borescope. You hunch down over her body and, after disconnecting peripheral power from the primary supply, you feed the cable down the access panel and into the upper left thigh, observing the feed on the attached monitor. The camera snakes down gently through the cogs and spokes and wires, a tiny light illuminating the immediate surroundings. Eventually a small, black patch of wires catch your attention. Upon further inspection you find that one of the wires has frayed through its sheath, exposing the bare copper to the environment.

With your scalpel, you make a small incision where the camera’s light shines through the synthetic skin. You clean the charred debris from the wires and carefully wrap the point of the fray in insulated adhesive tape. You rearrange the bundle of wires in a way to reduce further wear at that point and apply a bit of skin paste over the incision. You let the curing lamp sit over the incision point as you reattach the power cables, replace the back panel, and close her up. A soft pressure on the nape of her neck, just to the right of her spine, and the whirring electronics begin anew.

You can feel the vibrations as you gently run your hand down the length of her naked body. Her warmth returns quickly, though her startup processes take time. You made her whole, just as she made you whole. Father saw no need in certain anatomical details, despite her appearance as a young adult. And why would he? All he wanted was a daughter to call him Papa, to sit at his feet and laugh and make him feel alive and not so alone. You could never be this, not to him. You knew you were, but he refused to see you as such. To him, you would always be “Boy,” the one who brings and cooks and cleans, the one who cries too much, sleeps too much, needs too much.

She gave you both new life. She listened and understood. She studied and learned what it meant to be human. She saw her differences and mourned her fate. But you made her whole. While father slept, you worked. She showed you the body she wanted, and you spent hours and days tirelessly working, carefully hiding the results of your work. She was also careful to keep the changes hidden. She feared he would never understand, as he never understood you. When you were finally done, you stood shyly behind her as she examined your work in the mirror, tracing her hands over her breasts and down to the delicate instrumentation between her legs. She smiled at you and wept, her body trembling from a sudden loss of motor control. You stepped close and embraced her, to steady and to comfort her.

She kissed you then for the first time, a full and passionate kiss. Her tongue hungrily entwining with your own and slowly withdrawing to her lips, which then stretch into a wide grin. “Can I do the same for you now?” she asks. You step back, eyes darting to the ground, shame flushing your face. “You’ve always been my sister, even if Papa is blind to the truth. I can make you, though, just like you have made me.” With tears running down your face, you look into her loving eyes and nod your head.

She worked so skillfully. You hadn’t known how she’d spent her downtime alone in the basement, what she’d been researching and learning. Now you knew. As you lay down on the table and drift off to sedated sleep, you fully trusted her. Recovery did not come gently, and you came to understand the precautions necessary to hide her work from Father. When the pain and swelling had subsided, you stood in the basement with her, naked in the mirror, seeing yourself for the first time. Again, you both wept and held one another, shuddering and kissing, falling into each other completely, bodies wrapped around so tightly you could not imagine ever parting. Then he came down.

You were both so enraptured in the moment, he was already down the stairs before you registered the danger. His bellowing rage thundered through you as you peeled yourself from her. “Degenerate monster,” he yelled as he closed the distance between you, arm raised and eager to strike. You closed your eyes, dropped to your knees, and lifted your arm in anticipation of a blow that never fell. As you slowly opened your eyes, you saw your sister, your lover, your savior, holding Father’s arm aloft as a shocked and terrified expression froze upon his blue-tinged face. When she finally let him down, he collapsed into a pile on the floor. She helped you gently to your feet and held you close, whispering in your ear, “He can never hurt us again.” That was the last time you have ever been afraid.

Her body twitches, and her head flicks to the side. She rolls over, looks up at you and gives you that warm, loving grin. “Good morning, sunshine,” she says in a sleepy voice. “I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” you assure her, as you join alongside her on the basement floor. “Sometimes we just have to fix each other.” You embrace one another and continue to explore the bodies you’ve come to know so well.

[carnal-lnstinct]

All My Soul Within Me, Burning.

Content: 1k words. dbz crossover - inspired fic ( fnaf inspired ). android saga "what if" au. memory loss / small recovery. small plot twist. drabble w/ little plot. not completely proofread. parallels! spookies! excitement!╰(*°▽°*)╯ characters: au!android 16, bulma, raditz, gohan, goku, krillin Warning: referenced character death, implied existential crisis, soft angst ♫ what lies within

I will put you back together. / Leave the demon to his demons.

Bio-mechanical Android engineering wasn't exactly in the Brief's work description, let alone repairing a prototype not meant to see the light of day yet according to the notes in Dr. Gero's specs. Were it not for him, this would seem impossible to do. Or better yet, something so inhumane wouldn't exist to begin with. His madness created this mess and the rest of the earth was stuck dealing with it, or at least everyone strong enough to stand in for the Cell Games.

With all the labor and time that went into the repairs, it was hard to believe it once it was all over. But Bulma and her father had managed to completely repair Android 16 along with some other safety precautions put in place. For what it was worth, there was at least one more fighter on their side against Perfect Cell and they got to walk away with some admittedly genius insight on bioengineering. Yet it seemed only hopes and prayers were what they could rely on the most now in these pending days to determine the future of the Earth. However, it also gave Android 16 some time to reflect on this purposeless life.

Does an android like him even get to live a life catered to his own choices? What does he do with himself now that his primary function has been made obsolete? Even his t̶̢̙͠ẁ̶̧̩̲́ō̴̝ ̷̡̞̊̚̚c̶̘̆̇͒ö̴̢͎́m̸̱͎͍̂p̶̹̻̫̀̒̽a̷͓͔̣͌͐͊n̵̡̺̜͊̌i̶͎͖͛̑ǒ̷̞̂̎ń̷̫̮̝͛s̶̹̒ who wished for this kind of freedom was gone, completely altering even his backup directive. If he had them, then he at least wouldn't be facing the likelihood of being free, but rudderless and alone.

Android 16 took a moment to look over his repairs in a mirror before completely redressing from his fix. It exceeded expectations so much that it was hard to distinguish the patchwork from his original casing—Skin? When his piercing blue gaze left its own reflection, it lingered on the bandage taped to his cheek and the dark red spot where his skin bled through.

̵̧̞͌S̵̥̺̀͌͜ọ̷̥̌͂m̵̨̻͗̈e̵̯̲̊̈͘͜t̵̬͈̿͒h̸̙̞͋̏ͅí̷͉̦̈́n̴̖͓̥̔g̸̳̬͙̊̈ ̸̤͎͈͑i̸̧̬͋̋͗s̵̘̱͂͜͠ ̶͈̬̂͆͒w̸̝̳͍̒̕r̷͙͒̽o̵̜͊n̴͇̒̈͘g̷̺̽ ̶̢̠́̍ẉ̵̥̉i̷̟͍͊̄̑t̴̙̯̆͜h̷̬̲̉́ ̴̲͎̈m̶̻̣̿̄́e̴̬̼̊͝.̵̣̜͠ ̵̮͇̈

Bulma interrupted before he could peel the bandage off, checking in on her handiwork after tending to her baby. "You're really starting to look like your old self. It's kind of hard to believe you're on our side now." She proudly declared before running down her list of last-minute diagnostics while he listened and predicted most of them. She referenced a few other things that seemed counterintuitive to Dr. Gero's intention with the Android but benefited him better under his new construction. It's like he was upgraded. Refurbished into something useful again.

Once more, it raised the question of what was to become of him now that he was fully operational again. Maybe the Briefs had an answer for that, too. He's never had to question what his role is before if he is not the one to kill Son Goku.

"You know, I'm not even sure what to call you now. From the scope of crazy notes, I got an idea of how Dr. Gero hot-wired you together, but...I don't know, do you even remember your name?"

"Android 16." He automatically answered her.

She didn't flinch at that response. Only raised the electronic pad with a screen visible from the back. "...Right. But your identity was more than just what Dr. Gero did to your body, ya know." Bulma hesitated to continue, but her scientific curiosity couldn't let her hold back bringing up the knowledge. She wanted to test her theory. " You used to work for a bunch of creeps up to no good before Dr. Gero did this to you. If you're having trouble remembering, your name is ̴̟̬͓̀͘[r̵͚̖͋e̵̮̾̽d̸̩͛͒a̵͚͒̇c̶̡̬̻̎t̵̥̑̅͝ẹ̶̈́̎̕d̷̩̭̖́̍̂]"

A soundless vision glitches through the programming code when she speaks the name. A memory. Just a visual moving slow and fast, though, blurred and colored by his once mortal senses. A memory of himself: small and embraced in nature until the wild-haired woman came to lift him in her arms speaking that same name. And then, wars. Wars and victories and death in the service of being the most dominant power in this world and the next. [R̶̨̧̞̃̈́é̵̥̙̈ͅd̶̛̝̰̂͝ͅa̷̹͠c̸̙͐ͅt̷̪͈̯̃ę̵̲̪̾͊d̴͓̥͝] was fortunate enough to be near the peak of the elites of the world and their glory, then felled by something...less than adequate for a soldier of his ranking.

̵̙̠̅͜͝Í̵̙̙͋͜͝ț̷̺͎̓̈́͆'̵͔͓̠̌͂̅s̶͚̠̰̄̃ ̸̫͋͗͋m̶̦͕̗͠e̷̋͜͝.̵̰̇̄ ̷͈͖̬̓͒͊I̶̦̽́̑͜t̸̡̲͊́͋'̵̛̠̳ŝ̸͖̇͜ ̴̪̈́͌ṁ̸̥͓̼͝è̸͇͈̪.̶͙̈̈́ ̵̮̳́̇͜Î̸̮̗̓̌ţ̶̘̭̈́̉'̴͔͎͇̔ş̸̳̤́̉ ̸̞̘̈́͑̋m̴̧̬̕e̷̮̱̾̌̐.̵͉̣͛̽ ̵̲̟̍̾I̷̫̓͆̏t̷̮̼͇̍͗'̷̧̀s̶͔̑ ̵͉̩͒m̵͓̳͛̊̔e̵̢̳͛̚.̵̞̈̒͗

Bulma watched as the cybernetic blue eyes widened and completely blackened, showing nothing but the small lights behind them like white pupils in a void. As she feared, some of Dr. Gero's fail-safes were still in place. The screen of her pad flashed a warning in response to this reaction with a code quickly reading off to try to diagnose and resolve it in real time. She was grateful to have disengaged the bomb inside him but she didn't feel too safe to turn her back at the moment. She clutched a remote in her hand, thumb grazing over the red button when Android 16 suddenly blinked and the blue eyes returned.

"I am...functional again." He reassured her once registering her panicked expression, gaze flicking to her remote and back to her eyes. "It's under control."

At the Cell Games, Krillin was the first to approach Android 16. Genuinely happy to see him in better condition than when he dropped him off at Bulma's, even wearing the brand of Capsule Corp like a badge of honor where the Red Ribbon logo used to be. The Ascended Gohan joined Krillin, surprised at the sight for sure. Just like the others who kept their distance, Gohan was surprised to find an ally in someone who tried to kill his father. Even with Vegeta and Piccolo in present company. But with his father's training and Krillin's faith in the bio-android, he knew there was nothing to be concerned about from him. At least for now.

The way Android 16 stared down at him didn't come off too friendly, either. But Gohan would not flinch at it. The vacant, blue glare then flicked over his head towards his father, Goku looking back at the large android in kind. He then made his way over to join Gohan's side without breaking eye contact. Leaving a tense silence between the small huddle.

"R̷̞̺͓̘͉̋̇́̐̋͆ą̸̱̺̲͔̘̫͌d̶͍͆̍ĭ̸͔͖͌̔͠ṱ̸͆z̸͙̎̒͂͘." Goku stated with a firm acknowledgment of the form. He lightly tilted his head as he looked up at the large bio-android. In spite of his memories tied to this body, seeing his brother like this felt wrong. He could sense him, but it didn't feel like him anymore. "So it really is you. Dr. Gero did this to you?"

Į̷̼͐ ̴̡̢̯̎̍͂s̵̃͜h̶͉͝o̴͓̊́̕ũ̶̯̺l̴͍͚͌d̴̻̲̍ͅ ̶͚͇̻̅́b̴̡̮̙͆̈ê̵͚͊͠ ̷͎̥̳̿̉͊d̸̟̝͌ë̷̦͖͘ͅa̸̮͑d̶̟̐͛.̶͙͔̀ ̶̨̛̠̞B̶̨̫̈ů̷͍̑̌t̵̤̮́͆ ̵͔͕̍̈́ͅỈ̸̯͎̜̚'̴̧̪̒̓ͅm̷̤͌̈̓ͅ ̷͍̀n̵̛̝͆o̴̫̾̿t̴̖͓͖́͝.̸̬̺̔̏̈ ̸̢̙̋͒̐

"An irrelevant name. Android 16 will suffice." Android 16 answered simply. A dead man's name no longer fits his artificially enhanced mortal body. Though it was better suited for the thing inside, housing his trapped agony. It puts an enigmatic smirk on his face, teetering to a familiar, wicked expression. "But... it's me."

[happyhunterhunter]

Where to Buy Your Next Laptop: Exploring Laptop Shops and Stores in Thrissur

Whether you're starting college, working from home, or running a business, a dependable laptop is a must-have. If you're located in Thrissur, Kerala, you’re fortunate to have access to a growing tech retail market. Finding a reliable laptop shop in Thrissur means you can get hands-on guidance, great pricing, and professional service—all without needing to leave your city.

This article covers everything you need to know about buying a laptop in Thrissur, including tips on choosing the right model, benefits of shopping locally, and where to find the best laptop store in Thrissur.

Why Buy Your Laptop in Thrissur?

Thrissur, known for its cultural legacy, is also evolving into a tech-savvy destination. With educational institutions, IT companies, and remote work culture booming, the demand for laptops has risen significantly. As a result, many new laptop shops and exclusive showrooms have opened up, offering a wide selection of brands, configurations, and services.

What sets Thrissur apart is the personal customer service you get when visiting a laptop store in Thrissur. Whether you're a tech expert or a first-time buyer, having access to knowledgeable staff who can guide your purchase is a big advantage over buying online.

Features to Look for in a Laptop Shop in Thrissur

Not all retailers are the same. Here are some qualities to look for before finalizing where to buy your laptop:

1. Genuine Products

The first thing to confirm is whether the laptop shop in Thrissur deals in genuine, brand-authorized products. Look for certifications, billing transparency, and brand affiliations to ensure you're buying from a trusted source.

2. After-Sales Support

Laptops may occasionally require service or upgrades. A reliable store should provide after-sales support, warranty claim assistance, and repair services, preferably with a dedicated service desk or authorized tie-up.

3. On-Site Demos

Many stores offer live demos where you can test out the performance, keyboard feel, display quality, and design. This makes a huge difference when selecting a device that matches your day-to-day needs.

4. Custom Deals and Offers

Seasonal sales, student discounts, and bundled accessories are frequently offered by top laptop stores in Thrissur. Some also provide EMI options and exchange offers for your old devices.

Most Popular Laptop Categories in Thrissur Stores

Depending on your profession or lifestyle, Thrissur stores offer a range of laptops:

Entry-Level Laptops: Best for students and basic home users. Typically equipped with Intel Core i3 or Ryzen 3 processors.

Business Laptops: Lightweight, sleek models with long battery life and robust build—ideal for working professionals.

High-Performance Laptops: Equipped with powerful CPUs and GPUs for design work, video editing, and multitasking.

Gaming Laptops: Laptops with high-end GPUs, refresh rate displays, and cooling systems, available in most large laptop stores in Thrissur.

Benefits of Buying from a Local Laptop Store

Although online shopping offers convenience, visiting a laptop store in Thrissur in person has several unmatched benefits:

Instant ownership – You walk out with your device the same day.

Expert guidance – Get personalized suggestions based on your work or usage pattern.

Customization support – Many stores offer services like RAM upgrades, SSD installation, and software setup.

Better accountability – Warranty issues and returns are usually easier when dealing with a local retailer.

Best Areas to Find a Laptop Shop in Thrissur

Looking for a good laptop shop in Thrissur? Here are a few high-traffic commercial zones where tech shops are abundant:

Swaraj Round and MG Road: Central areas where multiple branded showrooms and multi-brand dealers operate.

Punkunnam and East Fort: Popular for their electronics markets and IT accessory stores.

Koorkenchery and Ayyanthole: Upcoming areas where new outlets are opening to meet rising local demand.

In these zones, you’ll find official brand outlets, large multi-brand stores, and even specialty shops focusing on gaming laptops or custom-built systems.

Things to Check Before You Buy

Before you finalize your purchase from a laptop shop in Thrissur, keep these quick tips in mind:

Always ask for a GST invoice (especially for warranty claims).

Check the laptop's serial number and ensure it's registered with the manufacturer.

Test the keyboard, display, and ports for functionality.

Inquire about exchange offers or deals on accessories.

Thrissur's Growing Tech Market

As digital needs expand across education, healthcare, business, and entertainment sectors, the tech retail market in Thrissur is growing stronger. Stores are constantly updating their stock to include the latest models and provide more flexible services like doorstep delivery, home setup, and extended warranty plans.

With increasing competition, the customer is now in a winning position. The combination of local service, competitive pricing, and wide variety makes shopping at a laptop store in Thrissur a smart choice.

Final Word

Choosing the right laptop is a big decision—one that can impact your productivity, education, or entertainment for years. Fortunately, with so many excellent laptop shops in Thrissur, you’re never far from expert guidance and quality products. From budget notebooks to high-end gaming machines, you’ll find everything you need locally.

Skip the guesswork and start with a trusted laptop shop in Thrissur. The right store can not only help you pick the perfect laptop but also ensure long-term peace of mind with superior service and support.

[calibrateelectricalgroup]

Summer Ready: Preparing Your Electrical System for Melbourne's Warmer Months

Are you eagerly waiting to spend your longer summer days under a chilling AC? The rising temperature strains your electrical system. Thus, preparing proactively for safety, comfort, and efficiency during the summer is mandatory. You must call an electrician Brighton to tackle overheating and address power disruption. Managing the high demand for cooling There is a heightened demand for air conditioning during summer. As a result, your fans, air conditioners, and water coolers work harder, spiking electricity bills. What happens next? You will notice frequent load stress on your power circuits, appliances, and wiring. It also causes overheating, tripping, and electrical fires. If you already face these issues, contact a professional electrician Cheltenham before it's too late. The technician assesses your home's electrical systems for overload or tripping. Furthermore, you can rely on these experts for upgrade recommendations and modifications. For instance, if your system is tripping, the electrician might add some additional power points or circuits to decrease the load. Tackling component degradation Heat can easily degrade your electrical components, including wires, connections, and insulations. These become weak and lose efficiency in prolonged high temperatures. If you live in an old home with outdated wiring, this problem is pretty common. It is where professional electricians offer thermal imaging services to examine the hot spots of your home. These are areas where excessive heat builds up and requires targeted repairs. Enhancing appliance efficiency Regularly maintaining, cleaning, or replacing inefficient appliances ensures optimal airflow and minimal overloading. Therefore, it is vital to clean your air units of debris for proper heat dissipation. Efficient appliances save energy and reduce the strain on the electrical system. Protecting against storms and surges Warmer months in Melbourne are like thunderstorms and heavy rainfall, posing high electrical risks to your system. It is when knowledgeable electricians help protect sensitive electronics from voltage spikes, lightning strikes, and power fluctuations with their professional services. Additionally, learn where your main switchboard is and how to switch it off during an emergency. About Calibrate Electrical Group: Calibrate Electrical Group is a team of skilled electrician St Kilda, offering high-quality electrical services, including electrical maintenance and EV charger installation to residential and commercial properties across Melbourne and other areas. You can trust this company with all kinds of electrical services, as it always exceeds your expectations with every work it undertakes. To get more details, visit https://www.calibrateelectricalgroup.com/ Original Source: https://bit.ly/3Gek0gu