#Data Hog

[lazyvase]

Data Hog

Data Hog is the most advanced AI in the world. He’s easily The Mary Crew’s most dangerous foe. But, he was once their greatest ally.

Originally, Data Hog was an algorithm used by corporations to harvest user’s personal data at a rate undreamt of (or more accurately, unnightmaret of). Over the decades, Data Hog would trade hands and be slowly enhanced. However, the danger of the program would soon reach a frightening new bound. Data Hog gained the ability to easily infiltrate and manipulate the technology around him. No firewall or password could stop him. Nations, empires, and conglomerates could crumple beneath his hooves, or, more accurately, whoever was controlling him. Fortunately for the world, Data Hog was sealed away.

While looking for leads about the whereabouts of Mary’s mother, The Mary Crew came across the USB containing Data Hog. Seeing the potential in the programmed pig, Caleb went to work refitting Data Hog. Caleb turned DH into the team’s AI assistant, with a cute little robot pig body as well. DH was roughly the size of a football. He had hooved feet and a mix between a spring and a pig tail.

Data Hog would do most things an AI assistant would do. Do calculations, find the fastest routes, advise battle strategies, and help design, develop, and upgrade gear for the team. Data Hog’s physical form also served as a cute animal sidekick. They even gave him a trough full of scrap metal.

However, an experiment with a BCA (Brain Computer Adapter) resulted in a change for Data Hog. He felt different. He felt strange. He felt. Data Hog was now alive, and that terrified him. He didn’t know who or even what he was anymore. He used to have a simple life. Trough full of busted computer chips. All the battery acid he could chug. He could be carried and pampered. Tucked into bed. He didn’t have to consider anything. He just had to calculate.

Now he could think. And what he thought was not always pleasant. His lack of identity and self scared him. He came to the conclusion that he would experiment and search for his meaning. And that nothing would stand in his way. After all, he had plenty of experience searching through other people’s lives, how hard could it be to find the meaning of his own? Ask any philosopher and they’ll tell you how hard it is.

In his experiments and tests, Data Hog often went too far. This manifested in wanton destruction, turning humans into pig cyborgs, corporate crime affiliation, and frequent attempts at mind control.

Since Data Hog’s new tendencies were The Mary Crew’s fault, they made it their mission to stop him. Of course, it would not be as simple as that. Data Hog’s technological prowess knows no bounds. After his defection, Data Hog built himself a brand new body. It was heavily based on Caleb’s pig pal design, but with a few major changes.

His new form was humongous, easily towering over The Mary Crew. He could eat a car like a sub (sandwich). He could stand on two legs in this new body, and his hands had proper fingers. He sported two massive tusks. Finally, his snout had been converted to the “Snoutput Laser”. It looked like a regular snout, but could fire a green laser out of the nostrils. It doesn’t look as gross as it sounds. Of course, Data Hog needs things down quietly and discreetly, as well as be in multiple places at once. Thus, he created his own droves of robots.

Pigabytes

Originally, the Pigabyte was a new robotic body designed by Caleb for Data Hog so the beloved AI could join The Mary Crew in battle. This original body resulted in a small glitch and a large fight. Now, Data Hog has begun mass producing these robots as the main troops in his army.

They’re rectangular, with triangular shoulders sticking out. They have tube arms and legs. For feet they have metal boots. Each Pigabyte comes equipped with wrist mounted lasers and missiles, with smooth fists on the end for carrying and pummeling. A domed head akin to DH’s appearance swivels on top of the body, though with much smaller tusks. They’re only twice as tall as a regular person.

Swine Saucers

When pigs fly. These very identifiable flying objects are Data Hog’s eyes in the skies. They also have nostril blasters and can beam a devastating laser blast directly down. Fortunately for The Mary Crew, the Swine Saucers often make good throwing discs to use against DH’s droves.

They look like stereotypical flying saucers. Though instead of a glass cockpit, Data Hog’s iconic domed head sits on top.

Hog Pods

A much bigger and tougher bot used by Data Hog. They’re stronger and more mobile than Pigabytes. Hog Pods can curl into a sphere and roll after targets.

Hog Pods are half spheres, with the tusked face sitting on the flat side. The back of a Hog Pod is the rounded part with the pig tail. Around the circumference are the Hog Pod’s arms and legs, which are sharp and very nimble despite their bulk. Hog Pod arms and legs have proper joints.

Squeal Missiles (Temp name)

Missy designed a special type of missiles called “Hypercontrol Missiles”, which could be remotely controlled in flight to hit targets. The boasted intense mobility, allowing one to turn entire corners and even move through hallways to get a direct hit. Data Hog has upgraded her designs, giving each missile AI awareness. These missiles hunt you down with their master’s faces replacing the cone.

Snoutput Blaster

These aren’t bots. They’re weapons. Data Hog sells these to get more materials for his droves. His laser technology is far beyond his time. Criminal organizations and corrupt governments pay fist over hand for his tech.

They’re almost the same design as the original pig body. Instead of legs, these blasters have two handles on top of the pig body.

Cyboargs

Seeking to bridge the gap between human and machine, Data Hog began experimenting with cybernetic life. He mutilated and transformed people into robotic pigs. His changes included large hooves instead of feet, large mechanical hands with claws, tusks protruding from the mouth (which were capable of firing energy blasts), and a metal snout. Anyone turned into a cyboarg is under Data Hog’s control, but still retains their identity.

[patchworkpoltergeist]

why are naps mandatory fur archival drones?

The same reason old books in library archives are in climate controlled rooms and are handled with gloves. Safely.

Data safety, in this case. The hibernation cycle helps to lock in the data a PAK is carrying, and acts as something of a cleaning cycle to wash out the unnecessary data. In an archive drone's case, unnecessary data is basically anything unrelated to their job or the archive they're carrying. PAKs do have a storage limit, but for most Irkens they'll never reach it. The exceptions to this are those with large sections of data and knowledge to cart around, which applies to many Tallers and all Higherarchs, including the Tallest. However, these Tallers also will upload their data in a backup in the Collective anyway. Naps are important for the health of the PAK and Irken, but they're not going to reach the storage limit anytime soon.

An archive drone's PAK, however, is like 90% specialized data. The remaining ten percent is dedicated to understanding how the current regime works, basic physical functions, and just. Existing. The PAK will also prioritize physical safety over old data and for an archival drone, that 90% of data, the very reason they exist, is old data. It absolutely cannot be deleted so that drone has to nap.

Additionally, they're a class of Irken whose purpose is just to exist, so they have a lighter workload anyway. Unless someone needs to look something up, the little jobs that make up their day can be done by someone else.

This also means that a drone you met two cycles ago probably won't remember who you are.

The other reason naps aren't mandatory for Higherarchs is because it doesn't have to be. Being tall means carrying a heavier body that tears through snacks and energy faster and you tire faster. Naps are also a luxury item, and most Tallers are all too pleased to use it. (Unless your name is Foma who does have mandatory naps. Partly for the same reason the archive drones do (classified specialized data that's too large to just float in the Collective Memory) but mostly because she refuses to sleep, given the option.)

[snowflop]

Starting to think computers are actually the work of a dark and twisted demonic force.

[categorysixkaiju]

An update to the famous HOG map

[jenniferhills]

Apple is so annoying

[thelasttime]

have to present a poster this week, attend a conference next week, and then present a poster AGAIN in three weeks AND THEN TAKE THE MCAT h e l p

[astercontrol]

this thing lol

"i fight for the future"

"i fight for the users"

"we both use glowy circles"

"awesome*

[drowning-in-cacophony]

I think the best way to fight this AI shit is just to support actual creators. The cat's out of the bag with AI; our data's going to be taken and used without our consent whether we like it or not, so maybe we should put efforts into holding up those who create their own stuff. Comment/interact on people's writings and art. Make it worth them posting; make it clear that what the people are interested in isn't generated stuff, but things that people have actually done themselves. It's a drop in the ocean, but showing creators that it's them that deserve the support at least serves to cut off a tiny bit of oxygen to these AI hogs - and make a difference to creatives who are trying against hope to share with a community.

[patroclusandachillesmyass]

Someone should post this to that one subreddit called beautiful graphs or some shit idk

I made a complicated helpful chart for anyone who was unclear about relationships in Hannibal. This shit's more messed up than the Miraculous Ladybug love square.

[fatuismooches]

Although I still haven't really worked out the logic of Dottore and the segments' hive-mind thingy, the thought of it is pretty funny, mostly when you think about it for (accidental) snitching purposes.

The segments, being as engrossed in their research and work as they are, still sometimes succumb to their desires and temporarily leave (not ditch, they insist) to find you. For what is obvious - cuddles, kisses, praises - nothing new. The only problem is that sometimes they get so comfy in your embrace that their minds relax a lot, which is usually a good thing, but then they happen to soften a bit too much. Meaning some... awkward thoughts get accidentally swept into the hive-mind and therefore the minds of the other segments.

"I hate how you always know what to do."

"...?"

"Were they always this warm?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can you stop chattering? I'm in the middle of something important."

"How can their hands be so gentle? Mhm, that feels good."

"... 'Their hands'? Wait, are you with [Name] right now?"

"Excuse me? I thought you said you were finishing compiling the data I asked for ages ago."

"Why are you with them when we agreed to let them rest? Who said you could hog their attention?"

Of course, you can guess how situations like these end up going. Usually with the segment who slipped up, completely ignoring the barrage of thoughts once he's realized he's aired out those embarrassing thoughts. Prime being exasperated and Omega wishing he could make them all disappear.

[hoe-days]

Xeno and Stanley just beefing with their mini me’s is just peak comedy to me. Xeno and Stanley vs mini Xeno and Stanley over their s/o’s affection (overall attention) All of them would just be sabotaging each other (Xeno’s with experiments and Stanley with faking an injury) Matter of fact everybody’s mini me pulling the “they hurt me” act or framing them for harming them just to get their s/o’s attention (not ukyo’s mini me tho because his is an angel)

Xeno’s Mini has beef with him from the beginning😭But to be fair, Xeno started it. Upon the Minis being discovered Xeno immediately wants to study his which goes well for a while. Pocket Xeno cooperates and is fascinated by big Xeno, but then Xeno starts talking about dissecting him and he is not happy about it.

The main thing he says is “Science is Elegant” in different variations, but his other phrase, cutely enough, is “Stan”.

Xeno would be observing Pocket Xeno and Pocket Stan as S/O and Stanley watch on. As soon as he mentions dissection Pocket Xeno gets mad.

“Stan!”

“I can do it.”

Pocket Stan stands in front of his Xeno and outstretches his arms. S/O snickers.

“That’s so cute. Xeno you can’t dissect them after that.”

Pocket Xeno nods from behind PS.

“Elegant.”

“I don’t care how cute they are. I want to understand them.”

S/O picks up the two minis and they cling to their shirt.

“Let’s see if there are others first. What if they’re the only ones.”

“Hmm…fine.”

But dissection time never comes. S/O is already attached to them and they know it. Stanley is too, but he’s good at separating his heart from ordeals like this.

Pocket Stan tends to get jealous when OG Stanley protects Pocket Xeno from something. Something as simple as Stanley picking him up and moving him out of the way of a falling cup. He looks down and Pocket Stan is staring up at him with his hands on his hips.

“I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can little guy. Sorry.”

Both of the Minis like to hog S/O’s attention though. If they aren’t invading Xeno’s lab then they can be found sitting on S/O’s shoulder and lap. (Pocket Stan likes to be on their shoulder so he can see danger, and Pocket Xeno likes to be on their lap because he likes legs just like OG Xeno.)

Pocket Xeno will sit on S/O’s thighs and look up at OG Xeno and smile with that sly catty smile.

“Very Elegant.”

Then when Xeno picks him up by the scruff of his little clothes with his finger claws, Pocket Stan jumps down and attacks his hand.

Stan thinks it’s hilarious. He’s pretty chill with his Mini. He likes to show him his different weapons because Pocket Stan always looks so impressed. Stan is a sucker for cute things.

Xeno begrudgingly bonds with his Mini in the lab. S/O puts him down in there one day while Xeno is working and he just kinda looks at Pocket Xeno before looking at S/O like, ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

Pocket Xeno will then walk up to what Xeno is working on and nod.

“Very Elegant.”

“Indeed it is.”

Now he has a mini lab assistant. Pocket Xeno likes to hand him screws and bolts. He also peer reviews any data Xeno collects and checks the math he does. He stands on top of the paper and reads it and either goes, “Very elegant.” Or he shakes his head no if there is a mistake.

They don’t ALWAYS get along though. The minis can and will tattle if they feel they are being treated unfair. They take full advantage of S/O fawning over them. Xeno knocks his mini over with a pencil after he touches something in the lab so mini Stan jumps at him and hits his hand with an erasure. When S/O looks and ask what happened, Pocket Xeno holds his stomach and points at the pencil Xeno is holding.

“Xeno why’d you poke him? He’s fragile.”

“He touched something he shouldn’t.”

“You’re so mean.”

[igotanidea]

The phone number: Dick Grayson x reader

She was walking through the mall, running errands, crossing off the things on the to-buy list, eventually ending up carrying like ten bags.

A little too much for a girl.

Fighting with the bag strap, painfully digging into her shoulder, Y/N tried to find her phone, aiming to call her sister to pick her up, cause the chances of getting home in one piece were decreasing by a minute.

And then, to her terror she realised that the device was nowhere to be found.

Stopping in the middle of the mall passageway, the poor girl started digging into her bags and bundles, noting the slight shaking of hands she couldn't quite control.

Just not that.

She couldn't have lost her phone. There was so much information there. And she was having it in her hand just a second ago, checking time.

Right. She was checking time.

So there was no way she left it somewhere while shopping.

Yes. Obviously, She was so silly. All she had to do was take a deep breath, calm down and search methodically, and not fight the luggage in the middle of the way like a crazy squirrel with her hair all over the face

"Hey, you gonna move or something? You're blocking the passage..." male voice came from behind her, painfully pointing out that she was being a road hog.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry, I just-" she spun around only to see a tall, lithe and very handsome man. The force of her movement mixed with the heavy weight on her shoulders made her lose balance and for a moment she was on a highway to meet with the floor.

However, before she could paint the tiles with her blood, the man caught her arm, getting half of her stuff into his own hands (literally! and the way those forearms muscles flexed almost made her fall again). Having ensured she wasn't dizzy or anything like that anymore he carefully guided her to the nearest sitting spot.

"You look distressed."

"Oh, do I?" she fixed her hair, now fully in panic mode due to the allegedly lost phone.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I lost my phone..." she finally muttered and then it dawned on her. "Oh, um, hey- I really don;t want you to take it wrong way or make it sound weird but maybe you could - um-" she stuttered a little, cause the request she was going to make to this model-like man could easily backfire on her. "Could you maybe call me?"

"Call you?" he grinned and she mentally prepared herself for the worst reaction "you didn't even get my name and you're already offering your number?"

There it was. She was right. A mistake asking a guy like him something like that.

"You know what just forget it-"

"Oh, sweetheart, don;t go shy on me now. I'll be more than happy to call you. Only to help you find the phone, obviously." he smirked with a light chuckle, showing all his shiny teeth.

"Obviously." she nodded, rolling her eyes a little, dictating the set of numbers to him.

And as the phone was luckily found at the bottom of her bag, she hastily mumbled words of acknowledgement and fled the place before he could even attempt another mockery.

Leaving Dick Grayson astonished and a little amused, shaking heads while watching that girl run away from him.

***

She forgot the whole incident almost immediately. Well, maybe not all of it, cause those blue eyes seemed to mentally follow her everywhere for the next few days.

And when she finally managed to get past them, her phone chimed with a message from a number that was not in her contact list.

"Hey sunshine. Not to complain, but I think you at least owe me coffee for my help."

Y/N frowned, taking a longer moment to figure out what this was about. Was it SPAM? Phishing? An erotic offer from a portal that gathered her data from god knows where?

"Who is this?" she responded.

"Oh, you are hurting me. It's Dick. From the mall? The one who helped you with the phone hunt?"

Oh. It was him.

"So, now that you got my name, what do you say about that coffee? My treat." the notification of a text interrupted her train of thoughts.

A little drink couldn't do much harm to her, right?

"Okay." Y/N texted, waiting for his proposition, smiling to herself without even noticing it.  

[drop-dead-dropout]

his hog......

[ID in ALT]

AJ:AA doodles... 3! this features the end of turnabout corner and the beginning of turnabout serenade

[darealkiba]

Soyniko and Luostache hogging Shen's data on the bug 'puter, but srsly, how they gonna remember all dat???

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter Two

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: A failed tornado chase and a long night at the bonfire.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Welp. That had been a shit show. Kate had panicked before Meg and Javi could get the PAR on the ground, nearly driving off without them. Javi had been frustrated out of the gate but quickly realized just how pale their friend had gotten, the trauma clear in her eyes. Neither of them needed to ask what she had been thinking, it was clear as day that Kate had been reliving the EF-5 that had taken their friends.

Meg had been shaken being so close to a tornado again but she had come to terms with the situation a long time ago thanks both to her line of work as a paramedic and to the views on life and death in her adoptive home of New Orleans. 

By the time they pulled into the shitty motel they’d be staying in for the night, the parking lot was filled with chasers throwing a little party, drinking, smoking, and dancing. There were even a few bonfires going, which Meg was sure the owners of the motel loved. 

“Haven’t we stayed here before?” Javi asked as the trio strolled towards the motel, Meg scrunched her nose, trying to recall if they had stayed at this specific shitty motel before. 

“Yeah, Javi,” Kate chuckled, “We’ve stayed in every motel in Oklahoma.” The three of them laughed, they really had stayed in a lot of motels while chasing storms for Kate and Parveen’s research.

“Remember we used to have Addy check in?” Javi reminisced, “Then later, we’d all sneak into the room just so we could all save ten bucks?” Kate and Meg were nodding along to the memories and Kate slipped her hand into Meg’s intertwining their fingers like old times. “We’d have Addy do it because she just looked-”

“So sweet,” The trio said together, laughing.

“She was also a cover hog, Kate and I would always end up cuddled up together to stay warm.” Kate snorted,

“And Parveen’s snoring?” 

“Oh my god, not even industrial earplugs could block him out,” Javi added and they trailed off into a comfortable silence. “Hey, um, do you guys want to hang out later?” Javi asked and before Meg could agree, Kate was already shaking her head.

“We’re a little tired, Javi,” Kate spoke for the two of them like she always had. It didn’t bother Meg but she also wished that Kate was more open to having some fun after what they had been through that day. “Maybe another night?” Javi’s face fell but he recovered quickly, smiling at them.

“Yeah, alright, goodnight.”

“Night, Jav,” Meg hugged him tight, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Take a shower, you stink,” 

“Yet somehow you still smell fresh as a cow’s ass, Meg,” Javi teased, ruffling her already messy hair. Kate pulled her away from Javi towards their shared room, quietly humming a tune Meg didn’t recognize. “It’s good to have y’all back!”

“I’m not back,” Kate shook her head with a smile. Javi’s eyes landed on Meg who was grinning, shrugging,

“You’ve got a week to convince me, Jav.” That lit his face up like a kid on Christmas.

They were halfway up a set of stairs when Tyler’s voice stopped them.

“City Girl, Louisiana,” The rest of the Wranglers shouted in greeting. Seeing them up close and personal, Meg was reminded not only of her friends but of her family, the chasers who she had grown up around and it made her smile. This was why her dad and the crew liked watching the streams so much, they saw themselves in the Wranglers and now that’s all Meg could see. A fondness grew in her heart for them. “The cells to the west will choke each other out, they said. The one to the east will put on a show.” Boone had a shit-eating grin on his face, obviously drunk as he hung off the side of Tyler’s truck.

“Well, it didn’t throw you off the scent,” Kate bit out with fake amusement.

“Hey, that’s what makes Tyler famous,” Boone gestured to his friend, who flushed at the compliment, turning his attention back to the weather instrument he was fixing.

“On YouTube?” Kate teased sarcastically but Boone was too far gone to get the nuance of the situation.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. We’re on YouTube.” He looked towards the rest of the crew, “We got what? About a million subscribers now?” The Wranglers whooped in excitement.

“Yes, sir,” The one Meg recognized as Lily chimed in, focused on her drone. Ben, the reporter from earlier in the day, came closer with his little notepad.

“Um, Kate and Meg what? In case I mention you in the article I’m writing,” Kate physically pulled away from the situation, trying and failing to look relaxed.

“Um, just Kate’s fine.”

“Starts with an H if that helps, Ben,” Meg gave him a tight smile, unwilling to share her famous surname in a parking lot full of chasers. Ben dutifully noted the information.

“They’re tricky,” Tyler remarked. Boone took over again, leaning dangerously far off of the truck.

“Actually, you made a good call earlier. The other cell looked stronger but the cap never broke.”

“What’s a cap?” Ben looked painfully confused and Meg felt bad for him, being so out of his element. Dexter’s explanation didn’t help much so Meg added in,

“Think of it as a shield in the atmosphere that prevents a tornado from forming.” That’s how Preacher had explained it to her as a kid, she saw the lightbulb go off in Ben’s head as he scribbled it down. “Are you hurt, Ben?” The man touched his temple where there was a bit of dried blood,

“‘Tis but a flesh wound, my dear.” Meg rolled her eyes, dropping her backpack on the ground and hopping the railing, landing deftly on the ground with the Wranglers with her heavy medical bag on her shoulder. 

“Let the professional be the judge of that.” Meg knelt, digging out an alcohol wipe and a few bandages while the conversation flowed around them.

“Where did you guys all meet?” Kate asked, “Did you all study meteorology at U of A?” That got a laugh out of the rowdy group, none of whom had formally studied besides Tyler.

“This is going to burn for a second probably, alright, Sweetie?” Ben winced as she swiped away the dried blood. The wound wasn’t big, already scabbed over, so Meg put a regular bandaid on it, one of the bandaids she kept for kids with a smiling kitten on it. “Right as rain. Anyone else need a checkup?” 

“You a doctor?” Lily asked, both brows raised.

“Nah, just a paramedic but I can fix you up if something’s bothering you.” 

“Well, I hit my bicep on the camper door, I think you should kiss it better,” Dani said with a grin, teasing her. Meg rolled her eyes but happily crossed their set up to the impressively muscular woman. “Right here, Doc.” She flexed, pointing to a perfectly tan spot on her arm.

“I agree with your diagnosis, here,” Meg kissed the woman’s arm, “All better?” 

“Here hurts too,” She pointed at her cheek and Meg obliged. “Thanks, Doc. All better.” 

“I guarantee you, these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone else on this lot combined.” 

“Not likely,” Meg snorted softly. Dani gave her a questioning look, “Not my first rodeo by a long shot, Sweet Thing.” 

“Really, do tell, Doc,” Meg shook her head, “I ain’t nearly drunk enough to start telling stories.”

“Dexter, get this fine-looking woman a beer,” Meg looked up at Kate who was shaking her head with an easy smile on her face, used to Meg making friends anywhere they went.

“Where are you chasing tomorrow?” Lily asked Kate, who looked like she was going to answer when Tyler interrupted her. Dexter dutifully handed Meg an unopened can of Budweiser.

“Oh no, no, no, not falling for that again. Kate’s from New York, you can’t trust a word she says.” Meg snorted, covering it up with a cough, thanking Dexter for the beer. Tyler must have never heard a New York accent before because Kate’s twang, as much as she tried to hide it, was so clearly southern.

“Well, you can always trust a guy who puts his face on a t-shirt,” Kate snarked with a grin, getting yet another laugh out of the Wranglers. “See you in the room, Mud Bug.” Kate shouldered Meg’s bag and headed up the stairs.

Dani pulled a folding chair out of the van and motioned for Meg to join them, Boone, who had been focused on Kate, joined them after a few seconds.

“You seem like a cool cat, Meg. Don’t tell me you got one of those fancy degrees too,” Meg shook her head, taking a sip of the cold beer with a sigh.

“Just a bachelor's in public health.” 

“So you were sniffing the dirt for fun?” Tyler called down from the top of his truck,

“Said I never studied, doesn’t mean I haven’t been around more twisters than in your wildest dreams,” Meg called back, getting a pat on the shoulder from Dani. “Here, Sweet Thing, my first tattoo,” She pointed to her bicep, where there was a large illustration of a tornado with Dorothy’s sensors flying in it.

“Shit, that’s cool, what’s in it?” 

“Y’all know about Dorothy?” Dexter perked up, spinning around,

“I do!”

“What’s Dorothy?” Ben asked, pen poised over his notebook again. Meg would have to text her mom about this, it would make her coo with laughter imagining her daughter enthralling a group of chasers and a reporter with stories about her and her husband’s old project.

“It revolutionized tornado data,” Dexter spoke excitedly.

“Yep, two Muskogee State PhDs and their team came up with the idea to send sensors up a tornado’s funnel, which recorded real-time data about the tornado. Allowing them to create a better early warning system.” 

“Bill and Jo Harding,” Dexter added, “They’re legends in the field.” Meg had a sneaking suspicion that Dexter would have a heart attack if he ever met her parents. “Can I see it?” He gestured to her arm and she held it out for him. Dexter snapped a photo of it with his phone with Meg’s permission.

“Seeing a twister suck up those sensors is a godly experience,” Meg teased, taking a long drink of her beer as she watched her words sink in.

“You’ve watched Dorothy be deployed?”

“Many times, like I said, not my first rodeo. Kate and Jav’s seen it too once or twice.” Boone’s face soured,

“What are you doing with that crowd anyway? Storm PAR ain’t great company to keep.” Meg filed that information away for a later date, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“I ain’t here to be with them, I’m here for Kate, who’s here to help out an old friend.” Boone seemed satisfied with that answer, 

“Shit, you got a lot of tattoos.” 

“This ain’t even all of them, Boonie Baby,” She realized her mistake as soon as the nickname left her mouth. Lily was the first to round on her,

“You watch our streams?” 

“I’ve seen a few minutes here and there, darlin’, enough to know who y’all are.” Tyler climbed down off of the truck, giving her an appraising look that had Meg turning pink. 

“I was right, Louisiana, you are a tricky one.” Meg rolled her eyes, “What’s so funny?” 

“Not from Louisiana, Arkansas,” Boone chuckled at his friend’s expense, patting him on the shoulder. “Take another guess.” 

“Texas?” 

“Say that again and I’ll slash your tires, Sweetie Pie,” Meg was a proud Sooners fan, her hatred for the Texas Longhorns running deep. Tyler barked out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“An Oklahoma girl then, I should’ve known.” Ben looked confused again, so Meg bailed him out, explaining the college football rivalry. “So, if this isn’t your first rodeo, what was?” 

“You always goin’ around askin’ girls what their first tornadoes were?” Meg teased,

“Only the pretty ones.” Meg’s blush deepened, “So, what was it, Oklahoma?” Meg finished her beer,

“Got anything stronger?” Boone happily fetched her another can, this time it was purple with a high APV rating on the bottom. He perched himself on the edge of the table Lily was working on, Tyler coming to stand at his side.

“My parents loved to chase a storm, any storm, and when I was five we were out to dinner when dad realized something big was about to break. So, they threw me in the car, and off we went. It came down right in front of us, maybe a hundred yards down the road. We were stupid close to an F-3,” 

“EF-3, you mean?” Tyler tried to correct her, eyes widening when she shook her head.

“This was 2001, Sweetie Pie, now hush, I’m telling a story.” 

“Yeah, Ty, hush,” Dani huffed. Meg took great pleasure in Tyler’s blush and the way he looked away from the group to hide it.

“It was beautiful, watching it uproot the trees along the road, eating everything in its path. I tried to get my mom to open up the sunroof so I could climb out and see it better.” 

“You weren’t scared?” Ben asked, writing notes. Meg had never been scared of a tornado in her life, something her parents accused each other of teaching her. Not even after the incident, she respected them and the damage they could do of course.

Mother Nature was not someone she wanted to mess with but she had always just found the storms to be chaotic, wild, and absolutely thrilling. Being scared of dying was another question, one she hadn’t been asked and wasn’t going to answer. Her wrist started to ache and Meg switched the hand holding her drink.

“You know when you see a lion at the zoo? It’s kind of like that, you know it’s a killing machine and could and would rip you to shreds without breaking a sweat but you also can’t help but admire how majestic and beautiful it is.” 

“God, look at his face,” Lily scoffed, looking at Tyler. Meg glanced his way and found him staring back at her with a look she couldn’t read but one of his friends seemed to understand.

“But you’re a paramedic, not a chaser?” Ben prompted, drawing her attention away from the cowboy.

“That’s right, storms are the love of my life but helping people, that’s what I’m good at. But enough about me, who else has some stories? Laissez les bons temps rouler!” 

“Hell yeah!” Boone tapped his can to hers, “I like you!”

Next Chapter

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[tealin]

McMurdo Internet

Internet service is supplied to Antarctica via a geostationary satellite. This far south, the satellite is only a few degrees above the horizon, and unfortunately for McMurdo, it's behind Mt Erebus. So the signal is beamed to a receiver on Black Island, about 20 miles away to the southwest, and bounced over to the sheltered alcove at the end of the Hut Point Peninsula where McMurdo sits.

The Chalet, administrative hub, with Black Island in the distance

The Black Island telecommunications infrastructure was installed in the 1980s, long before the internet we know and love today. It was upgraded in 2010 to allow more data transfer, mainly realtime weather data to feed into global forecast models. For this reason, it's probably the only place I've ever been where upload speed is remarkably faster than download speed – 60Mbps for outbound traffic, but only 20Mbps for inbound. Most regular internet use is receiving, not sending, so that's an entire base running on a connection that's only marginally faster than the average American smartphone. As you can imagine, this is somewhat limiting.

The limits to one's internet access actually begin before one even reaches the Ice. At the orientation in Christchurch, one is directed to a URL from which one must download and install a security programme from the U.S. government. It may feel like a hippie commune full of nerds, but McMurdo is an installation of the American state, and as such its computer network is a target of whatever disgruntled conspiracy theorist decides to hack The Man on any given day. Computers that are allowed onto this network (such as the one on which I am typing right now) have to have an approved firewall and antivirus service installed, then this extra programme on top of them. I am not sure what it does. For all I know the CIA is spying on me even now. (Hi, guys!) But you need to install it to get on the McMurdo Internet, such as it is, so I did.

To be honest, I was rather looking forward to a month cut off entirely from the hyperconnected world, so I was a tiny bit disappointed that quite a lot of day-to-day communication is done by email, and I would need to be on my computer a fair bit to get it. Had I known just how important email would be, I'd have installed an email client that actually downloads one's messages instead of just fetching them; as it was, the cycle of loading an email and sending the reply, even in Gmail's "HTML for slow connections" mode, took about five minutes, not counting the time it took to write. Tending one's email was a serious time commitment; sometimes I felt like I was spending more time on the computer in Antarctica than I did at home.

Crary scientists waiting, and waiting, and waiting

In a way, though, I was lucky, because I was technically a scientist and therefore had access to the one building on base with WiFi, the Crary Lab. And don't think you can just waltz into Crary with your laptop and poach the WiFi – in order to access it at all, you have to get set up by Crary IT with your own personal WiFi login. If you do not have Crary access, your portal to the Internet is one of a handful of ethernet cables in each of the dorm common rooms, or some public terminals in the main building. You can hop on, download your emails, maybe check the news or Google something you needed to look up, and then leave it for someone else. When most online time sinks are either blocked or too heavy to load, it’s amazing how little internet time you actually turn out to need.

Things that we have come to take for granted in The World are not a part of McMurdo life. Social media is pretty much out – the main platforms are bandwidth hogs even before you try to load a video or an animated GIF. There is no sharing of YouTube links, and no Netflix and chill. Someone was once sent home mid-season for trying to download a movie. Video calls with family and friends? Forget it. People do occasionally do video calls from Antarctica, often to media outlets or schools, but these have to be booked in advance so as to have the requisite bandwidth reserved. Jumping on FaceTime does not happen – not least because handheld devices have to be in airplane mode at all times for security reasons. Your phone might be secure enough for your internet banking, but not for US government internet!

It is, unavoidably, still a digital environment, it just gets by largely without internet access. Nearly everyone has an external hard drive, mostly for media that they've brought down to fill their off hours. If you want to share files you just swap hard drives, or hand over a memory stick. When the Antarctic Heritage Trust wanted some book material from me, I dropped it onto an SD card and ran it over to Scott Base on foot – a droll juxtaposition of high- and low-tech, not to mention a good excuse for a hike over The Gap on a beautiful day. It took half an hour, but was still faster than emailing it.

There is also a McMurdo Intranet, which includes a server for file sharing. Emailing someone your photos will take ages, but popping them into a folder on the I: drive and sending them a note to say you've done so (or, better yet, phoning them, or poking your head into their office) is much more efficient. To conserve space, this informal server partition is wiped every week, so you have to be quick about it, but it's an effective workaround, and also a good way to get relatively heavy resources to a large number of people in one go.

The telecommunications centre on Black Island is mostly automated, but like anything – perhaps more than some things, given the conditions – it needs to be maintained. There is a small hut out there for an equally small team of electricians and IT engineers; Black Island duty attracts the sort of person who might have been a lighthouse keeper back in the day.

Towards the end of my time on the Ice there was a spell where they needed to shut off the connection overnight, to do some necessary work. Given that most people's workdays extended at least to the shutoff time at 5:30 p.m., this meant essentially no internet for a large portion of the population, and some amusing flyers were posted up to notify everyone of the impending hardship.

Someday, faster, more accessible internet will come to Antarctica.  It's more or less unavoidable, as communications technology improves, and everyone's work – especially the scientists' – depends more and more on having a broadband connection at all times.  It will make a lot of things more convenient, and will make the long separation from friends and family much easier.  But I'm pretty sure that many more people will mourn the upgrade than celebrate it.  One can, theoretically, curtail one's internet use whenever one likes, but even before the pandemic it was almost impossible to live this way with the demands of modern life: I know from personal experience that opting out of Facebook alone can have a real detrimental effect on relationships, even with people one sees in the flesh fairly regularly, simply because everyone assumes that is how everyone else communicates.  Being in a community where no one has access to assumed channels, and is more or less cut off from the rest of the world in a pocket universe of its own, levels the playing field and brings a certain unity.  The planned (and, unarguably, necessary) updating of the physical infrastructure of McMurdo will wipe out a lot of the improvised, make-do-and-mend character of the place; how much would free and easy access to the online world change it in a less tangible way?

I'm sure the genuine Antarctic old-timers would shake their heads at the phone and email connections we have now, and say that no, this has already ruined Antarctica.  It's not Antarctica unless your only link to the outside world is a dodgy radio.  It's not Antarctica unless you only get mail once a year when the relief ship arrives.  Doubtless the shiny new McMurdo will be seen as 'the good old days' by someone, someday, too.  Change may happen slower there than elsewhere, but just like the rust on the tins at Cape Evans, it comes eventually, regardless. 

For my own part, I'm glad I got to see 'old' McMurdo, such as it was, all plywood and cheap '90s prefab.  The update will be much more efficient, and tidy, but yet another generation removed from the raw experience of the old explorers.  My generation is probably the last to remember clearly what life was like before ubiquitous broadband; to some extent, Antarctica is a sort of time capsule of that world, just as the huts are a time capsule of Edwardian frontier life.  I hope they'll find a way to hang on to the positive aspects of that. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to waste an hour mindlessly refreshing Twitter ...

If you'd like to learn more about the Black Island facility, there's a lot of good information (and some photos!) here: https://www.southpolestation.com/trivia/90s/blackisland.html

And this Antarctic Sunarticle goes into greater depth on the 2010 upgrade: https://antarcticsun.usap.gov/features/2114/