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[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

the weekend's here

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

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

Dying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Little Cog?”

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

Was she…impressed?

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

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

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

((characters by toffee_32))

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

like mother like son passed on her love for tall big tiddy goths

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

Even in a purely, coldly utilitarian moral system, there are three questions to ask before accepting harmful or destructive Means because they ostensibly lead to a better End:

Do the Means lead to some other negative End, in addition to the intended one? The classical example of the naïve utilitarian doctor who kills a patient in order to harvest their organs and save five patients, in practice, if accepted, leads to general loss of trust in doctors and hospitals and therefore to much greater loss of life; hence, doctors should follow a hard rule of not killing patients to harvest their organs, even if this might save more lives in the shortest term.

Are the Means necessary in order to achieve the End? The negative utility of atrocious Means still ends up in the final account along with the supposed positive utility of the End (and without the penalty for uncertainty that the latter should arguably be given). The Means are as much part of the final state as the End.

Do the Means, in fact, lead to the End? Any consequentialist justification for an atrocity-for-the-greater-good automatically fails if the atrocity does not plausibly bring out the greater good, even before any other consideration is taken. It's all well and good to say that you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, but (ignoring for the moment that people are arguably owed more consideration than eggs) a large chunk of the 20th century was a sustained and furious festival of egg-crushing and egg-trampling that resulted in precisely zero omelettes.

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

i think there should be an episode of doctor who where the doctor returns to a time when police boxes were common and then forgets where he fucking parked

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

she just gives really nice compliments she can’t help it

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

more siblings!!!

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

great game 11/10 please play if you have the chance

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

Polgara, grey market dealer in antiquities and magical artifacts and master of using showmanship and strategic disdain to secure a sale.

Art by Marshman220

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

Thea thel Shearwater. Time was not kind to her hometown nor to her as she grew up, but as a teenager she was blessed with having comparatively minor worries, even if she didn't feel that way at the time. Meeting up with an old friend later provided opportunities and hard choices.

Art by Sammy

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

"Millennia ago, it took a lot of effort to kill a person, let alone several or even scores. When you killed a thousand people in less than an hour, it was a massacre. Butchery. Like animals before the altar of a wrathful god. These days, you can kill millions with no effort at all. No thought at all. Yes, it is terrifying, even to me. Power that once was attributed to gods, now in the hands of man.

"But that's the true tragedy. No effort. Not even a mere thought. You can wipe out entire nations and you may never fully realize what you've done. Because you never saw the tides of blood flood the streets. Smelled the scents of fear and fire as cities were put to the sword and torch. Heard the screams and ignored pleas and prayers. Felt the last, halting breath of the men, women, and children you slew personally. Felt their terror.

"People destroy entire nations, cultures, and lands without even realizing it. It never sinks in because there was no intent in the first place. No thought, no care. You all truly live like kings in more ways than one.

"Yes, your horrific deeds have put mine to shame, but yours are—what's that phrase you use?—ah, 'banal'. No thought, no intent, no care. Not even Hell would take your blighted souls, and why would they? What pathetic evil have you committed? No evil, only carelessness. Even oblivion is too good for you.

"I suppose it's up to me once again to show all of you what Evil truly is."

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

Producing generative content the way God intended: rolling on big stupid dice tables and deliberately misinterpreting the Rider-Waite tarot.

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

I hear my mom shrieking downstairs, shouting up to me about “THE CATS! THE CATS!”

I run downstairs, thinking someone has died or something and see THIS:

I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO PUNCH SOMETHING TO GET OVER THE ADORABLENESS

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

I hear my mom shrieking downstairs, shouting up to me about “THE CATS! THE CATS!”

I run downstairs, thinking someone has died or something and see THIS:

I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO PUNCH SOMETHING TO GET OVER THE ADORABLENESS

[aramis-dagaz-imaginarium]

Walking with Dogs, Cats, Flowers by Kyoung Hwan Kim