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[randomisocahedron]

Accident Investigation Report

(I originally posted this on Reddit.)

This is a translation of the original incident report from the Space Travel Safety Commission of the United Syndicate. Units, star names, and nomenclature have been localised. For a direct translation, see Addendum 1.

The Orolda was a hyperspace-capable passenger liner 205 metres from nose to bell with a cylindrical cross-section. The main body was 10 metres in diameter, with a gravity ring in the fore section with a diameter of 80 metres. She had a crew of 26, and carried 80 passengers. On October 18th, 12 A.C. at 0632 (Vienna time), she departed a station at 40 Eridani without incident. Her intended final destination was Delta Pavonis.

When traveling through the Gliese 1061 system, Junior Engineer Lurin, who had been kept on duty for nineteen hours due to his junior status, was ordered to refill the radiator coolant because of an earlier leak. The proper procedure was to open the valve separating the primary and auxiliary coolant reservoirs, and then actuate a series of valves to push coolant out of the backup reservoir and into the primary reservoir. Junior Engineer Lurin actuated the wrong set of valves, pushing coolant out of the primary reservoir and into the backup reservoir.

A sensor existed to monitor the pressure level of the primary reservoir, but the alarms were disabled when fluids were being transferred to avoid alarms triggering during nominal and routine activities.

As the coolant drained, the remaining coolant in the system increased in temperature. This caused damage to the cooling pipes and radiators. Roughly three minutes after the coolant began draining, a partially melted pipe began leaking superheated coolant inside the Orolda's fission reactor. The coolant pressure dropped sharply, and without coolant the reactor rapidly overheated. Three minutes and forty-one seconds after the coolant began draining, a rapid increase in temperature caused the reactor to automatically SCRAM. This prompted the ship to move to Alert Status Two. The computer roused Captain Uliz.

The SCRAM was not successfully completed. Why it failed is unknown, but the reactor's automatic SCRAM had not been tested in several years. Twenty seconds after the attempt, radiation detectors indicated an ongoing meltdown. This prompted Alert Status One, waking all crew and sending them to emergency stations. Due to the radiation hazard, the aft engineering spaces were evacuated, which included Junior Engineer Lurin, who did not close the valve as he left (and was not aware that he had done anything wrong).

Two minutes later, radiation detectors indicated that the core had collapsed and penetrated the interior reactor wall. The temperature was increasing rapidly, and the cooling system was operating well below its typical efficiency. Radiation sensors in the fore section indicated that radiation was still within acceptable levels, so Captain Uliz did not order a retreat to the radiation storm shelter, for fear this would hamper repair efforts and panic the passengers.

All crew were accounted for in the shielded fore section. Of the five in the aft section at the time of the incident, all were exposed to radiation exceeding the allowable yearly dose, one suffered light radiation sickness, and two suffered acute radiation sickness: Engineer Iraz was only two metres away from the reactor and began vomiting almost immediately. Chief Engineer Aralt, who was watching him from twelve metres away, carried him to safety but was exposed to a much larger dose in the process. Both were immediately placed in medical cryostasis and are currently undergoing nanotherapy; they are expected to recover.

Once all crew were accounted for, Captain Uliz instructed Engineer Yrenzl (The highest-ranking engineer with Chief Engineer Aralt in medical cryostasis) to send a drone to examine the reactor. Although the video signal was degraded by radiation, the drone 's cameras revealed that the outer casing was melting.

Upon confirmation of the reactor being effectively unrecoverable, First Officer Intri deployed the automated hyperspace distress buoy, as there were no United Syndicate ships in the system. It would reach the next system in thirty-eight days.

Twenty minutes after the meltdown, radiator efficiency had fallen to 60%, and damage alarms were continuing. Captain Uliz ordered a visual inspection of the radiators. Instead of their usual cherry-red, they were not glowing at all, indicating a complete system failure. Captain Uliz was unresponsive and emotional for several minutes, so First Officer Intri ordered a full diagnostic on the heat management systems.

Twenty-three minutes after the meltdown, with the diagnostic still ongoing, the Orolda received a message from the Sixteen Kilotons, a Terran mining ship 25 metres from nose to bell and 15 metres in diameter at the widest point, with a crew of six. She was eleven light-minutes away (and moving away from the Orolda quickly) and the only other vessel in the system: "We see radiation from your reactor consistent with an uncontrolled meltdown. We are now moving towards you at half a gee. How many souls are on board? Are there any other issues?"

Because of the tense relationship between Earth and the United Syndicate, the crew of the Orolda assumed that the Sixteen Kilotons was a pirate or privateer taking advantage of their situation. They grimly discussed whether to resist until Engineer Yrenzl announced that the diagnostics were completed. All of the coolant was gone from the system, and high heat had melted the valves in their current position. The figure of 60% was inflated, since the pipes themselves were acting as heatsinks. The radiators were effectively turned off, but more heat than ususal was coming from the reactor. The cabin temperature would begin increasing in 6 hours, and become incompatible with life in 8.

On hearing this, Captain Uliz, previously silent, ordered the crew to cooperate fully with the humans, and stated that he would accept all responsibility for the capture of the ship. "They are likely to hold us for ransom", he said, "but they are unlikely to kill us. The same is not true for the heat."

First Officer Intri responded to the Sixteen Kilotons as follows: "Our reactor has melted down and our radiators are shot. We have 8 hours before we all bake. We have 106 souls on board. We will cooperate fully and follow all instructions."

Fifty seconds after this message was received, the Sixteen Kilotons jettisoned her load of ice. Lightened, her acceleration increased to six gees. She thereby arrived at the Orolda in five hours, thirty minutes.

An hour before the Sixteen Kilotons arrived, the crew of the Orolda, following instructions from the Sixteen Kilotons, brought all passengers into the radiation storm shelter, sealed every hatch and bulkhead, and depressurized the mid-section. Once all this was confirmed to be done, the crew of the Sixteen Kilotons used their mining laser to cut the Orolda in half at the thinnest point of her midsection. Although the two ships' docking systems were not compatible, the crew of the Sixteen Kilotons was able to attach the ports to form an airtight seal using three hundred and fifty metres of fibre-reinforced plastic adhesive strips.

Once this connection was established, three crew-members from the Sixteen Kilotons entered with a large cooling device connected by flexible tubes to their ship's cooling system. Captain Uliz presented the ship's rifle to the Terran captain, and offered surrender. The translator records the Terran Captain's reply as "What the hell are you talking about?".

Once the cooling systems were established, the Sixteen Kilotons' reactor and radiators, which because of her duties were more powerful than the Orolda's own, were able to keep the crew at a comfortable temperature until the United Syndicate patrol ship Arteyna arrived and began ferrying passengers and crew to safety.

Recommendations

The common practice on merchant ships of severely overworking new crewmembers as a rite of passage must be curtailed.

It is advised that it be regulated that two crewmembers be present whenever liquids are being manually transferred within a ship.

Regulation should be enacted to require regular testing of a reactor's SCRAM functions, including in suboptimal conditions.

The feasibility of equipping all ships with military-style reactor jettison systems should be examined.

The uniquely human concept of a "Mayday" or "Distress call" in maritime, aviation, and orbital culture should be examined in detail.

Duct tape should be made mandatory on all ships.

[randomisocahedron]

Guidelines for Humans in Multi-Species Spacecraft

(I originally posted this to Reddit)

Gravity

Humans are capable of adapting to standard gravity within 2 to 8 standard days, during which time anti-nausea medication (see appendix E) is to be provided. In the case of humans who cannot adapt, or on craft which typically undergo non-standard acceleration, weights or air bladders are to be made available.

Sleep

Humans require sleep, but do not require it within any specified parameters. Any human, but especially those in an armed service branch, is capable of entering sleep in a wide variety of situations, and they may do so without warning. This is not cause for medical concern unless they have been diagnosed with narcolepsy.

Food

Humans are capable of consuming all standard rations except those containing ergotamine, for which lysergide or ethanol may be substituted. Food energy consumed per day varies greatly both between individuals and for the same individual over time, which is not to be considered a medical concern. Most humans are capable of meal preparation, and on vessels large enough to house a proper galley, they should be permitted to prepare their own food. Their food must be clearly labelled as such, including its name and any toxins it contains. Many humans enjoy sharing food, but crew are to be made aware that the human palate is highly varied due to a lack of cultural homogenization: just because you enjoy ONE human dish does not mean you will enjoy ALL human dishes.

Companion Animals

Many humans will take animals as companions. This is to be generally encouraged, because it keeps them calm. The captain of a vessel has discretion in allowing dangerous predators on board, but they are advised to allow it if the human can demonstrate control over the creature.

Psychological Factors

Autopsych programs are being developed for humans. Their capacity for compartmentalization and denial is quite high, so small vessels need not be concerned that human crew will not have regular counselling. However, great care is to be taken to ensure humans do not become bored, as bored humans are highly dangerous to everything around them. Any human who appears to be attempting to upgrade the ship must be redirected to open problems in mathematics, science, etc, or to creative pursuits, if at all possible. (ADDENDUM: Humans are not to be redirected to the following fields: Psychology; high-energy organic chemistry; yodelling; bioengineering; applied nuclear physics; contract law.)

Non-Humans on Primarily Human Vessels

It is strongly advised that non-humans not enter a human vessel, even briefly, until the ongoing space-vessels integration process is completed.

[randomisocahedron]

I was walking to the bus stop and witnessed a twentysomething woman catcalling a construction worker. Now I've seen everything.

[randomisocahedron]

Gift Exchange

(I originally posted this story to Reddit last December.)

"Arrival confirmed. All systems functioning within normal parameters."

Captain Uriat relaxed slightly. Despite hundreds of jumps, she still found the process disconcerting. "Excellent, Orin. Begin the system scan."

Orin pushed a few buttons. "Active sensors are running; the nearest substantial object is twenty light-minutes away. We'll have complete passive data in under a minute."

"Good. Reorienting and preparing to burn."

"Uh, something on passive sensors. Small asteroid installation at the innermost planet's L2 point, biologicals onboard based on temperature. And there's a ship with a half-gigawatt reactor burning towards it at a tenth of a gee. This is a small system, so they're both around three light-hours away."

"Do they have transponders?"

"They're transmitting some signals, but the computer didn't recognize them... let's see." Orin pressed a few more keys. "Oh, they're Terrans, using their new protocol. The station doesn't have a name, and the ship is called the Pickup Truck. Weird name, even by Terran standards."

Uriat looked at her own console. "Are they... allowed... to be here?"

"Under the Treaty of Kepler-1649c, this area is freely accessible to all. As long as their so-called government hasn't tried to stop them, they have as much right to be here as we do."

"Well, I suppose we should tell them our intentions. It's only polite." She spoke into the computer, which translated the message and transmitted it. "Greetings to the, er, Pickup Truck. This is the trade ship Dolernar of the United Syndicate. We are moving at half a gee and expect to be leaving the system in 520 hours. We are transmitting our full planned trajectory. Please advise as to closest approach."

Around four hours (plus two minutes of message composition) later, a response arrived. "Greetings, Dolernar! Closest approach will be in 140 hours; we'll be three light-minutes away from you. We're doing some light construction work here, but it shouldn't be a concern. And, uh, please stand by for a personal message."

"Personal message? Do they think they know us?"

"Maybe they want us to carry a message to someone else. It's fairly common in backwaters without dedicated courier ships."

The message came a few minutes later.

"We can send you some provisions
if you'd like. We've checked and it should all be compatible with your biology."

Orin looked at Uriat strangely. "Is this some sort of insult? Are they implying that we didn't bring enough food?"

Uriat responded thoughtfully. "I don't know. Perhaps. But perhaps not. Cultural exchange has been maddeningly slow, due to their... idiosyncrasies. I think it would be in everyone's best interest if we assume it's meant to be a friendly gesture."

"Tribute?"

"Or symbolic trade. They might expect something in return. We could send them some of our own food, maybe."

Orin clicked his toes together, an expression of doubt. "Hmph. Maybe."

---

The Pickup Truck came to a stop relative to the station
and gently released the large ice

ball it held. Inside, two children floated in EVA suits, grinning broadly —

although you couldn't see the grins through their mirrored faceplates.

"Alright. You're sure you two are comfortable doing this on your own?"

"Of course we are, Dad,
" they responded through the crackling radio.

"Okay. Just remember I'm right here if you need anything." He hugged them, although they didn't feel anything through the semirigid suits. They flew (or perhaps wobbled) proudly into the airlock, which he cycled.

Outside, they flew around, placing tokens to target the Pickup Truck's laser, and then polishing up the small comet with hand tools. A few hours later, they pushed the many-faceted piece of ice into position with careful bursts of compressed gas. Once it was exactly right, they fastened it to the steel framework with lengths of braided carbon nanotubes.

Returning to the Pickup Truck, they doffed their suits before accepting several more hugs.

"You did very well!" called their great-grandmother. "And the ivy is growing quickly. By the way, that ship contacted us."

"Well, what happened?" asked the older child.

"Oh, it's a Syndicate trade ship. Anyway, Grandma —

sorry, my grandma —

started carrying on about ping-pong, so now we're going to bake them some
treats."

The kids didn't know what ping-pong had to do with the passing trade ship either, but they liked baking, especially since it meant they had to taste a few ingredients beforehand to make sure they were still good. They always were.

---

An old torpedo sat in the hangar, surrounded by two children and one of their parents. The fusion warhead had already been removed, but they still had to modify it to carry cargo.

“Why are we sending the Syndicate cookies anyway?” asked the older child as he carefully removed the phased radar array and set it aside.

“Because cookies are tasty?” suggested his younger sister, who was busy assembling padded boxes.

The parent smiled indulgently as they plugged their finger into the torpedo’s guidance computer. “Well, yes… but there’s also no reason for us to hate each other just because we used to be at war. Enough small personal connections could pave the way for a lasting peace.”

Two more people arrived, carrying padded and individually pressurized boxes of cookies, cakes, and other delicious things. The boxes were carefully placed in the torpedo, which was fueled

and reassembled as its flight plan was transmitted to the Dolernar.

---

"Dolernar, goodwill package launching in T-4 hours. Expect eight gees of acceleration. Full flight plan attached."

"Well. That's certainly some very fast goodwill."

Orin studied the flight plan carefully. He looked at the attached data for the package. He double- and triple-
checked. "Captain, they're firing a torpedo at us."

Uriat processed some words which no civilian captain wishes to hear. There was danger, but Uriat couldn't see it, so her eyes instinctively moved apart
to spot the threat, an utterly useless adaptation against torpedoes. She brought them back to her console. Notably, no sirens were sounding. "What makes you think that?"

Orin simply pointed at the attached flight plan, and then at an entry in the ship's database. "This 'goodwill package' is precisely the same size as a TOS-10 Pilum hybrid torpedo, and the acceleration profile matches perfectly. It carries a one-

megaton fusion warhead that would wipe us out instantly."

Uriat was remarkably calm. "Can we evade it?"

A pause, some calculations. "Yes. It's guided by the ship that launched it, so even at our closest approach we could be moving away for twenty-four minutes before it could react —

and on this trajectory,
the best time to evade has nearly an hour of light-lag. It wouldn't even get close."

"Then why would they even..."

"Bluff. They figure we'll think it's these 'provisions,' and let it onboard. Then, as it approaches, it blows up and we die."

---

A large, thin sheet of freshly mined aluminum, rolled to a millimeter

thick, was manually placed in an acid bath and anodized. It was then removed from the acid bath with a purpose-rigged crane, carefully washed and dried, and placed in a pile of like sheets.

---

"Look," Uriat thought aloud. "They're humans. They're crazy. Their giving us a torpedo, just so we could have a nuclear bomb in our workshop, is entirely within character."

"Humans might think that's a reasonable gift, true," countered Orin, "but their military wouldn't;

and if they have torpedoes,
they are the military or at least closely liaised with the military. There's no way they'd just hand us the hardware that they were so recently shooting at us."

Uriat skimmed the database entry for the TOS-10. "It says here they were replaced by the TOS-12 during the war, and now the TOG-15 and MSO-7. It’s not modern materiel.”

"Still a torpedo. It was modern until a few years ago. If we had one, would we send them one of the main battery lasers from the Lironi, just because we have better ones now?"

Uriat had to admit this was a good point.

---

A boy in a mini-tug carefully maneuvered an aluminum sheet into position, whereupon his two companions in space suits began riveting it onto the steel frame. Once it was securely fastened, he flew the tug back to the station hub to get another sheet.

---

In times like these Uriat desperately wished that the cockpit had enough room to pace, or even stand up properly. "The thing is, if they are being honest about this being a gift but they're sending it via torpedo for unguessable reasons, we can't straight-up evade their gift. That would be an enormous insult."

"You're seriously worried about insulting the people who might be trying to kill us?"

"No, I'm worried about insulting them if they're actually not trying to kill us. And the thing is, the Pickup Truck's laser's power far exceeds our navigational shields' rating —

we saw it cutting up that comet, although Fates know why —

and with that reactor,
I doubt their shields would even notice our micrometeor lasers. If they wanted us dead, they could kill us in a far more straightforward way than this weird deception you suspect them of doing —

and they'd get to take our cargo, too."

"Even if the deception is highly unlikely, falling for the deception is much worse than irritating some humans who probably hate us already” contemplated Orin. “Plus, ship-to-ship combat could be their Plan B, if a clean surprise kill doesn't work."

---

Activating their EVA thrusters, another person exited the airlock, carrying a box of xenon arc lamps. They propelled themselves precisely to a selected spot and bolted an arc lamp to the framework. Once it was secure to their satisfaction, they moved a little over a metre and attached another arc lamp.

---

Uriat extended and retracted her claws, clearly stressed. "What we need is a way to distinguish between deceptive Terrans and crazy Terrans. How does their behaviour change if they're trying to kill us versus being friendly but mad?"

The words hung in the air as they both thought about it. Orin spoke up. "If they're deceiving us, they'll be more suspicious of our own actions —

they'll worry we're playing the same game. If they're friendly, they'll probably think we're friendly too."

"Clever. So we need to do something that would be seen as friendly if they're friendly, and seen as hostile if they're hostile, and then watch what they do."

"So send them some provisions of our own, then?"

"Yes, but not just that.” Uriat ticked off requirements. “It has to look like a bomb if they're looking for one, but look like a gift if they're not. Also, it has to arrive before their torpedo does."

"Well, we have a catapult for... basically just that. Handing off small payloads without slowing down."

"So we just have to prepare a package which looks like a bomb, but only if you already think it's a bomb."

---

An old man in an EVA suit, holding a chemical thruster with a fuel tank, surveyed the diffuse laser array. The batteries were nearly full, and there was no visible damage. He spent twenty minutes checking various delicate components and then, satisfied, used the rest of his fuel to burn back towards the asteroid station.

---

Wearing thick gloves, Uriat placed the spent fuel pellet canister in the box. Orin added some ration bars, a few bottles of sweetened starch slurry, and their day's ration of fresh plant matter. "There we go. It'll set off Geiger counters, but who waves a Geiger counter at something they fully believe to be a gift?"

"What if they ask us about it?"

"We'll say,
‘Oh dear, we put that in by mistake.’
And we'll know they opened it inside, without scanning it, so we can trust their own package."

"Good, that works."

The box went into a small transport pod, and then the pair returned to the cockpit for launch. Uriat grabbed the radio. "Pickup Truck, this is Dolernar. Launching reciprocal goodwill package in T-5 minutes. Expect high launch velocity and a 3-gee suicide burn on approach. Full fight plan attached."

Notably, the package would have already launched by the time the Terrans received the message. That way they'd have no way of

weaseling
out with a plausible excuse.

The Dolernar's engines shut down, rendering Uriat and Orin weightless. Fine control thrusters rotated them about 120 degrees to aim the catapult. The catapult's rails telescoped out to five times the Dolernar's length, and then the fine control thrusters made even more minute adjustments, carefully aiming the package.

A light flashed in the cockpit. Uriat and Orin simultaneously tapped their keys to sensors on opposite sides of the cockpit, and the package launched.

---

The Officer of the Watch pressed the button to input the flight data to the Pickup Truck's navigational computer, and a radar beam automatically began tracking it. Attached to the flight plan was a message explaining that this was a package for them. Diplomatic matters went beyond the Officer of the Watch's powers. A superior had to be contacted via intercom.

"
Mom? The trade ship decided to send us a gift! Can you help me translate a message to thank them?"

---

Uriat and Orin watched the transport pod's telemetry intently. Two humans in vacuum suits caught the pod and began guiding it... towards their spacecraft's main habitation module. No

one would ever do that with a suspected bomb. The relief was palpable.

---

"Should we open it now?"

"Yes, let's see what they gave us!"

"No, we should wait until the big party!"

"Oh, let's just open it now. They'll be expecting a response!"

"Let's get everyone else here first."

The eighteen-strong crew of the Pickup Truck, most (but not all) family, eventually gathered in the hangar, where the transport pod had been brought in.

It was decided that the youngest should open the gift.

It was discovered that the youngest couldn't figure out the clasps on the transport pod.

It was determined that older siblings were allowed to help.

The pod was opened with a collective effort, and people immediately began taking things out and laying them on the table. There were various colours of snack bars (the translator proved to be hopeless at translating the flavours written on them, but they tasted good), two bottles of what was quickly determined to NOT be wine, but rather something reminiscent of tapioca (an acquired taste, it was decided), and several fresh fruits — precious even on a station with a hydroponics section. The fruit was divided so everyone got a piece. They tried every part of it, even the fibrous skin. (It wasn't the greatest, but it was worth trying.)

And then, at the bottom, a fuel canister. The uranium oxides in it wouldn't work with the Pickup Truck's reactor or the station's, but they decided to accept the gift in the spirit in which it was given. Perhaps they could use it to make some model rockets,
or fireworks. A lighthearted argument over whether fireworks which you could only safely observe indirectly were worthwhile fireworks was cut off by the demand that everyone who touched fissile material ("Yes, I know it has cladding!") wash their hands.

---

The modified torpedo screamed towards the Dolernar, its rear graphite plate ablating under the Pickup Truck's laser. Once it was within ten thousand kilometres of its target, the laser cut out, it ejected the remains of the graphite plate, and its chemical thrusters brought it gently to the Dolernar's airlock. A robotic arm grabbed it and brought it into the cargo bay, where, with a screwdriver and a minor amount of cursing, Orin was able to open the jury-rigged pressurized transport capsule. It contained several padded boxes of various baked goods, many of which had not been squashed by acceleration.

There was too much to eat in one sitting, so they sampled a few things. Uriat's favourite was the caramelized spiced sweet
bread covered in sugar. Orin preferred the dark brown balls covered with white shredded... something. Their translator was having trouble with the foods' highly idiomatic names, but that didn't stop them from being tasty.

---

All the preparations were ready. With everyone floating in the observation deck, the Pickup Truck detached from the station and began receding at a snail's pace, so as to maintain microgravity. Still, they didn't need to go very far. Within a few minutes the ship was turning, and within a few more the entire spaceborne structure was visible through the window, with an impressive backdrop of stars.

It was time. A button two and a half metres in diameter (red, naturally) had been constructed specifically for this occasion. Eighteen people pressed the button together.

The arc-lamps came alive, all at once. The lasers activated a moment later, sending light bouncing off the reflective five-pointed star at the top. Light twinkled over many balls of ice, which glowed bright in the shadow of the planet behind them. The genetically modified ivy, covering the truss structure, defiantly green despite the vacuum of space, completed the picture.

It was, without a doubt, the best tree
ever.

[randomisocahedron]

PSA: Dishwasher pods are useless

Dishwasher pods contain pretty much the exact same chemicals as dishwashing detergent powder, and are WAY more expensive.

They're also actually worse than the powder. A little bit of powder gets into the dishwasher for the first cycle (if your dishwasher doesn't have a pre-wash basin, pour a little in the main compartment!), but the pod only puts any detergent in for the second cycle. If you have the physical ability to pour powder into your dishwasher, do not buy dishwasher pods.

(Sometimes gel is a little cheaper or easier to use, and it may be slightly worse than powder but not substantially. Both are far and away better than dishwasher pods.)

Source: Two videos by Technology Connections, which contain experiments.

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I don't CARE what genre your fictional world is, put a talking skeleton in it NOW

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Designing a ritual takes a lot of time, which the characters don't have.

Trying to do magic you haven't specifically trained to do is incredibly dangerous. Even if you have training, it's still risky.

Magic will work. One hundred percent of the time. If you don't have enough energy to make it work, your spell will draw energy from you until you don't exist anymore.

Casting a spell sends out a pulse of energy which can be detected at a long distance with the right tools. The antagonist from whom the characters are hiding is known to have those tools.

Magic is more of a hobby these days, like horseback riding or calligraphy. There are few things for which you really need magic, and as such few people who can do it.

The Source of Magic is self-aware, and mischievous. Your powers will fail you if it would be funny.

Performing magic requires a specific state of mind. Mages just get burnt out sometimes.

Magic requires the sacrifice of others (not necessarily their lives: could be their pain, a limb, their ability to love...), and it does not work if the sacrifice is willing. To use magic, you either have to be evil or think that the ends justify the means.

Between copyright law, tax law, and zoning regulations, the paperwork for one lousy summoning circle is just more trouble than it's worth.

More reasons why the characters cannot fix everything with magic

• Children all have access to magic, but as they get older, their powers fade away.

• Mastering even the most basic spell takes years of training.

• “We killed the gods. Turns out that doing that destroyed magic.”

• The amount and strength of magic is inversely proportional to the level of industrialization.

• Characters don’t know what kind of magic they have and must embark on a long and arduous journey in order to find out what they can do.

• “We can use magic, but only on the microscopic scale.”

• The reason why magic doesn’t work is that no one believes in it anymore.

• To cast a spell, one must play the correct tune on a specific instrument.

• Only maker of staffs, rods, and wands has a 10,000 year long waiting list.

• Magic comes from the stars…and it can go no faster than the speed of light.

• The power of magic waxes and wanes. Right now is the part of the cycle where magic is at its weakest.

• People once had a symbiotic relationship with organisms that gave them the power of magic. The organism has been extinct for centuries.

• As the use of magic has a destabilizing effect on the universe, a secret society exists with the sole purpose of killing all magic users before they destroy the universe (some of whom have deliberately attempted to cause an apocalypse).

• “You must sacrifice a part of you in order to use magic. It could be a part of your body, it could also be your identity, or even your very soul.”

[randomisocahedron]

Good places to share short stories that aren't Reddit?

I wrote a few short stories on r/HFY. I'm not on Reddit anymore because of the API/IPO stuff. Are there good places on tumblr or other parts of the internet for sharing these kinds of amateur short stories? My understanding is that I'm asking if there are tumblr tags where you just straight-up post a story (most of what I've found thus far is people talking about writing, not sharing their writing), but I'm still new to this website.

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Theory: the Shire is idyllic because of potatoes

Middle-Earth generally has a medieval level of technology, but potatoes were only introduced to Europe in the mid-to-late 1500s.

If you're a peasant, potatoes are bloody amazing. They're rich in nutrients, relatively easy to farm, and fairly robust. Irish farmers were able to sustain their families on a small potato plot, and hunger was not a big concern.

Until it was, of course. But the potato famine was only really a disaster because of British exploitation of the crisis and the absentee landlord system. Food could have been shipped in, but the British government prevented Ireland from importing food for political reasons.

Now, canonically one of the most important traits of hobbits is their lack of ambition. A hobbit is truly happy with a warm fire, a warm meal, and a warm community. The Shire clearly has some sort of socioeconomic hierarchy, but it doesn't seem very exploitative. There are no poor hobbits; some are simply less well-off than others.

And it all comes down to the potato. Men and Elves grow wheat, but Hobbits grow potatoes. If Men or Elves were to gain access to potatoes, they would do what the British did and use them to squeeze their peasants harder. Instead of using the increased productivity granted by potatoes to increase their wealth and power, Hobbits use the potato to increase their leisure time.

That's why the Shire seems so upper-class: even the farmers get a fairly good share of the resources. The Bagginses are among the wealthiest hobbits, but they aren't aristocratic: their wealth is limited to having a nice house and doing little work. Hobbits are able to live together, to sing together, and even the poorest hobbits can afford to eat a good seven meals a day... and all because of potatoes.

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Might I add: We live in a world with healing magic. We can use the body parts of a willing friend to repair your own. We can cure diseases which cause paralysis. We can even replace your legs with a facsimile of wood and metal, which in some respects is even better than a natural leg.

And yet, we still have people in wheelchairs. Because our healers are not gods, because sometimes the risks of a healing are too great, and because sometimes our leaders decide the poor and downtrodden are simply not worth helping.

[randomisocahedron]

Writing prompt: Police scramble to shut down the AI they just created after realizing it is enforcing all laws with complete impartiality, justice, and fairness.