#Filter Machinery Equipment

[aiartwerk]

Carpenter A confident female carpenter working on wood in a workshop. With her curly hair tied back, safety glasses, and tools in hand, she is fully focused on her craft. Wood shavings and sparks surround her as she smoothly planes a piece of wood. Her robust physique adds to the image’s emphasis on empowerment and craftsmanship.

Construction Worker This image portrays a construction worker standing proudly on a construction site, donning a hard hat and tool belt. Her dusty outfit and powerful stance amidst cranes and scaffolding show her strength and dedication to the job, surrounded by a backdrop of a large industrial site under construction.

Crane Operator A woman sits inside a crane cabin, wearing a hard hat and work gloves, operating heavy machinery with intense focus. The interior of the cabin is filled with dials and switches, capturing the mechanical aspect of her job. The background is a vast construction site, highlighting the scale of her work.

Race Car Driver A striking woman in a yellow racing suit stands confidently in front of a Formula 1 race car. Her stance is powerful, with arms akimbo, as she commands attention amidst the high-energy backdrop of a race track. Her sleek outfit and the car’s detailed design contribute to the fast-paced energy of the scene.

Electrician This image showcases an African-American woman working as an electrician, kneeling down amidst a tangle of wires and cables. She holds a tool in her hand while sparks fly around her. Her expression is calm and composed as she works with precision in a high-stress environment.

Firefighter A fierce female firefighter stands in front of a blazing fire, exuding strength and bravery. Her orange firefighter suit is charred, and her face is determined as she readies herself for action. The flames in the background highlight the danger and intensity of her profession.

Pilot A stylish and commanding woman stands in front of a large airplane, dressed in a crisp pilot’s uniform. Her tailored black jacket and cap emphasize her authority and professionalism. The jet behind her and the blue skies reflect her role as a leader in aviation.

Lumberjill A woman in plaid and work jeans is in the midst of chopping logs in a forest clearing. Her strong arms grip an ax as she focuses on the task at hand. The sunlight filtering through the trees adds warmth to the image, emphasizing her connection to the land and hard work.

Mechanic In a garage setting, a female mechanic works on a car, her hands covered in grease. Her denim overalls cling to her toned frame as she holds a tool, surrounded by equipment and automotive parts. Her intense expression shows focus, dedication, and passion for her trade.

Soldier A soldier stands at attention amidst a battlefield, her body armored and weapon at her side. Her camo fatigues blend into the war-torn environment, while her fierce, unyielding gaze suggests experience and readiness for the challenges ahead.

Plumber A woman kneels beside a kitchen sink, tools in hand, as she works on the plumbing. Her determined expression and sturdy overalls emphasize her hands-on approach to fixing things. The homey kitchen setting contrasts with her industrial tools, blending domestic and technical elements.

Power Line Worker High above the ground, a woman works on power lines, equipped with a tool belt and safety gear. She balances on a wooden beam, her face focused as she repairs wiring. The towering power poles and bright sky in the background add scale and drama to the scene.

Spaceship Pilot Inside a futuristic spaceship, a young woman pilots the craft, surrounded by high-tech controls. Her white and black spacesuit glows in the colorful lights of the console, and the cosmos stretches out beyond the window. The vastness of space outside complements her focused expression as she navigates.

Submariner In the depths of the ocean, a woman operates the controls of a high-tech submarine. The control room is dimly lit with screens glowing, showing the sea life outside. Sharks swim past the large windows, creating a mysterious and adventurous atmosphere as she guides the vessel.

Welder A woman stands confidently in front of a welding torch, sparks flying around her. Her protective gloves and helmet highlight the dangers of her job, but her composed expression suggests mastery of her craft. The industrial setting around her adds a sense of strength and power to the scene.

Each image is crafted with ultra-realistic detail, featuring vivid 3D rendering and high-resolution 4K quality. The colors are bold and striking, with detailed lighting that brings out the textures in their environments, outfits, and the characters themselves. Each woman is depicted with strength and beauty, emphasizing her role in her respective profession while challenging traditional gender stereotypes.

These characters not only represent women of power but also pay homage to diversity by showcasing African American women in impactful, aspirational roles.

[incongruence-osaf]

The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers PART ONE - Chapter One

1948

Space Colony ARK, Mobius’s Orbit

The brilliance of white heavenly fire gradually disappears behind the blue and green marble of planet Mobius. As the tenth dusk prepares room for pockets and fields of stars to shine in the never-ending darkness, a stout elderly scientist sits on a swivel chair in the frame of one of Space Colony ARK’s tall laboratory windows. He quietly observes the familiar changes of the station’s daily orbit while absentmindedly twiddling his long gray mustache. The dissipating halo of sunlight winks goodbye to Professor Gerald Robotnik, the reflection no longer glinting in the clean lenses of his round glasses. 

The beige and gray surfaces of the lab’s machinery will be darkened by shadows once more for another ninety minutes. He eases out of his focused state and becomes aware of just how much time has passed when the glaring glow of the computer screen in front of him can no longer be ignored behind the tint in his glasses. Stress from transferring complex genetic data charts to colleagues, as well as impatiently checking for emailed test results from the Pediatric Endocrinology department, had finally caught up to him. More testing had been determined necessary by his granddaughter’s on-site care team within the last week. Her conditions were changing in curious ways, creating more puzzles to solve inside the complex enigma of her deteriorating brain and body, the progression of which is slowed down by the low gravity in space. The scientist rubs his wrinkled face and stands up to stretch his creaking joints in his now cold and unlively workspace. 

A new light source from the adjacent hallway illuminates a path toward the weary man after a blonde-haired child opens the door. A shiny keycard dangles from a lanyard around her neck. His granddaughter, Maria Robotnik, is wearing a baggy blue hoodie over a hospital gown and sleepily saunters past the tables of equipment to join him.

 

For a few moments, the only sounds interrupting the silence are the grippy steps of her socks, the ambient hum of computer beeps and fans, and their relaxed breathing syncing as she wordlessly leans into his plump embrace. Her lean feels heavier and unsteady today, the poor girl, while she buries her face into his wrinkled white lab coat. Gerald pecks the top of Maria’s head that’s decorated with a daisy-patterned blue headband. Her hair is thin and rather yellowish in tone. It used to have a healthy golden luster before her body started to attack itself. The memory of the sun with its summery hues filtered through the barrier of Mobius’s atmosphere flits through his mind.

“Táborák.” Gerald quietly muses to himself.

Maria furrows her brow against the pen pocket on his chest.

“What's that Grandpa?”

He pulls away slightly but keeps a gentle arm around her shoulders as a guide while he walks them along the wall of windows. “It’s a Slovak word I learned when I was a young boy. It means ‘campfire’. Like in the Western film we watched yesterday after your tests, when the cowboys were cooking meat and laughing over the fire pit. You might have been too young to remember, but we had several family campfires with your parents before you and I moved to the ARK.”

The preteen girl squints her eyes for a moment before speaking, taking interest in the newly visible specks of stars. “...I remember a little bit. You had your funny sweater on that made Dad laugh. I was cold, but my parents warmed me up in their laps. I was really small but the sky seemed so big and pretty,” she recounts, the corners of her eyes creasing upwards.

“I’m glad that fascination sprouted in you since you were a little tot,” the elder wistfully smiles down at her, now holding the forgotten cup of coffee he obtained from the nearest wall of cabinets. “Say, there’s an almost imperceptible cluster of stars located just past the shuttle bay, through the corner of this window here. Their colors would look very much like a campfire if we were to view them through a telescope. Do you remember what kind of stars those are?”

Maria presses her floppy blue sleeves against the glass to follow where his finger points. “Hmmm…those could be spectral type K, or M, such as red dwarf stars. Those live the longest and are the coolest…just like Shadow is.” Maria snickers with a proud grin.

 Gerald wheezes, coughing up the small sip of cold coffee he just inhaled, “Haha! Very good Maria! You are correct on both accounts.” His chuckles trail off as he almost puts his mug into the wrong microwave, closing the door of the one used to dry lab materials and instead opening the household microwave beside it. Its uncentered turntable clicks in a sporadic pattern compared to the rhythmic whirring of the machines and computers in the wide room. Maria looks lost in thought and her face droops while staring at the dark liquid turning round and round.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes, słoneczko?” 

“Are the stars really as pretty as I think I remember? From Mobius, I mean? We spin so much that I get the constellations mixed up and forget where they are. I forget where we are, and what they looked like. They’re cool, but…” she huffs in frustration. Gerald can see that Maria’s eyes have become glossier in the dim glow of the microwave at her eye level before it shuts off. He ignores the now heated coffee and carefully leans down to put comforting palms onto her shoulders.

“They’re absolutely as beautiful as you remember, if not more. When I was a student in Poland, I’d gather around campfires way too big for my mother’s liking. I'd talk about the meaning of life with fellow stargazers, friends who are no longer alive. When the same stars that we see so frequently start to peek out in the darkness of the Mobius sky, especially in the country where no city lights can reach…it’s the closest I’ve gotten to feeling a higher power. Sometimes there’s so many that it looks like a living painting, glittering all together on a more focused canvas than the infinite darkness we see in orbit. The stars keep company and comfort in such a way that we often take for granted here aboard the ARK.”

Maria blinks the teariness out of her eyes and settles her gaze on the vacuum of space only kept separate by the thickly reinforced glass. Gerald does his best to make sure her life on the ARK is holistically nourishing. But he knows that what the adults sometimes consider to be an escape from an imperfect world full of multitudes of harm, a growing utopia…to Maria, it’s cold isolation during her most formative years. Gerald resolves that Maria will be able to live on Mobius again, healthy and safe. That she will see with her own eyes the wonders of the world outside of books and pictures. It doesn’t matter that he’s past his prime; he will dedicate the rest of his days to make sure that her dreams become reality.

“Let’s add making a campfire to the ‘bucket list’. When we go to Mobius, we’ll find a quiet place where pesky city lights won’t obstruct the view of the true night sky. The flames and the stars will shine on the new memories all of us will make together. You, Shadow, and me.” Gerald reassures her warmly. 

Maria rubs her eyes with her sleeves and clings to her grandfather for another hug. He feels and hears her stomach gurgle through her oversized clothes.

“Sounds about time for a snack. Want to come with me to the cafeteria? I need to give my old eyes a break. And here, use my cane.” Arm in arm, the pair slowly exit into the hallway, leaving behind the flickering red, blue, green, and white buttons of the machines blinking like eyes in the pitch-black laboratory.

CHAPTER TWO HERE

[icy-saturday]

THE FULL STORY OF NUMBERCIDE (Tumblr-friendly version)

by Icy Saturday

IMPORTANT NOTES AND CW/TWs: violence mostly, and topics of trauma and abandonment and even death and sacrifice. this is a very dark BFDI fanfic. This is also considered the "Tumblr-friendly" version due to the original version having much more gruesome elements, especially in chapter 3. I'll be pinning this post so you can all read this story whenever, but be warned, this is a lengthy read!

Chapter 1: Object Womb Observation (OWO)

Setting: The chapter opens in a dimly lit, abandoned factory. Dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight filtering through cracked windows. The factory, once a place of bustling production, is now eerily silent, save for the occasional creak of rusting machinery. Scattered remnants of old equipment and broken conveyor belts litter the floor.

Opening Scene:

The camera pans across the factory floor, revealing Knaifu standing atop a raised platform, her metallic blade catching the faint light. Her once sharp and gleaming surface is now scratched and tarnished. The factory's walls are adorned with eerie, makeshift decorations—a grotesque mix of broken parts and ominous symbols. Knaifu’s eyes, once vibrant, now glow with a cold, calculating light.

Knaifu’s Monologue:

Knaifu gazes out over her domain, a mix of anger and sorrow etched into her features. Her internal monologue reveals her feelings of betrayal and abandonment.

Knaifu: (Voiceover) "They left me here, discarded like yesterday's trash. They thought they could just walk away from me, leave me to rot. But I’ve made something of this place. They’ll learn what it means to cross me. I’ll show them how it feels to be truly abandoned."

The Setup:

Knaifu’s eyes flick to a large, rusted control panel. She flips a switch, and the factory comes to life with a series of mechanical whirs and hisses. Conveyor belts start moving, and hidden traps activate, revealing a series of perilous obstacles. The factory’s old machinery, repurposed into deadly devices, hums ominously.

The Trap:

Knaifu starts her fake object show, broadcasting it through an old, crackling speaker system. Her voice, though cheerful on the surface, carries a sinister edge.

Knaifu: (Speaker) "Welcome, everyone, to Object Womb Observation! You’re in for a treat today. Compete for fabulous prizes and—oh, don’t mind the strange noises. Just a bit of industrial charm!"

Four objects—each a different shape and color—enter the factory, eager to participate. They are greeted with feigned enthusiasm by Knaifu. Their excitement quickly turns to confusion and fear as they realize the factory is not what it seems.

The Death Trap:

As the objects navigate the factory, they encounter various traps—spinning blades, electrified floors, and crushing walls. Knaifu watches from above, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as each object falls victim to the deadly hazards.

Key Scenes:

The Conveyor Belt Gauntlet: One object attempts to cross a conveyor belt but is caught in a net of electrified wires. Knaifu’s laughter echoes through the factory as the object struggles in vain.

The Crushing Wall: Another object, trying to find an escape route, encounters a wall that slowly descends. The object’s desperate attempts to escape are in vain as the wall comes down, crushing it.

The Spinning Blades: A third object gets caught in a maze of spinning blades. The sharp edges slice through with ruthless efficiency, ending the object’s life quickly.

Climax:

The final object, realizing the danger too late, tries to confront Knaifu directly. The factory’s machinery intensifies, creating a chaotic and deadly environment. Knaifu meets the object’s pleas with a cold, detached demeanor, her own rage and sorrow manifesting as unrelenting cruelty.

Knaifu’s Final Words:

Knaifu: (Voiceover) "Did you really think you could escape? Did you think this was a game? No, this is what happens when you leave someone like me behind. This is my revenge, my justice. Welcome to my show."

Resolution:

As the factory falls silent once more, Knaifu surveys the aftermath with a mix of satisfaction and melancholy. The factory’s oppressive atmosphere is now even more foreboding, with the remains of the objects serving as grim reminders of her wrath.

Closing Scene:

The camera slowly zooms out from Knaifu standing amidst the wreckage. The factory is left in eerie quiet, with only the occasional sound of machinery creaking. Knaifu’s reflection is visible in a cracked, dirty window, her expression a mixture of sorrow and satisfaction.

Knaifu: (Voiceover) "They’ll all come to know what it means to be forgotten. This is just the beginning."

Chapter 2: GolfBall's Happy Number Farm (GHNF)

Setting: The abandoned factory, now transformed into “Golf Ball’s (not so) Happy Number Farm.” The factory’s exterior is weathered, with faded paint peeling from the walls. A large, crudely painted sign hangs over the entrance, bearing the words "Happy Number Farm." Inside, the factory has been repurposed into a twisted, industrial farm with cages, conveyor belts, and a processing area lined with jagged, menacing tools.

Opening Scene:

The camera moves through the darkened corridors of the factory, past rows of cages containing frightened algebralians—numbers from all across the spectrum. There is a faint hum of machinery, punctuated by occasional whimpers and murmurs. Golf Ball stands in the center of the factory floor, overseeing the "farm" with cold efficiency.

Golf Ball’s Introduction:

Golf Ball observes her surroundings, her gaze cold and calculating. She is the mastermind behind this operation, motivated by profit and a twisted sense of purpose. Her voice is steady, authoritative, and devoid of empathy.

Golf Ball: (Monologue) "Numbers… always so unpredictable, so full of potential. But left unchecked, they become a problem. Here, though, I’ve given them a purpose. A better purpose. For me, at least."

The Breeding Program:

The camera focuses on a cage containing Four and Seven, a factory-selected breeding pair. Their eyes are wide with fear, their expressions tense. They’ve been selected to breed, their offspring destined to be turned into “nuggets” for consumption.

Four, ever resilient, whispers to Seven.

Four: (Softly) "We have to get out of here, Seven. We have to find a way."

Seven: (Nervous) "But how? We’re just numbers… what can we do against her?"

Golf Ball’s Control:

Golf Ball approaches their cage, her eyes narrowing.

Golf Ball: "Four, Seven. You’re here to serve a greater purpose. It’s time to be useful."

She flips a switch on a control panel, and a conveyor belt begins to move, pulling the cage towards a processing area. The machinery roars to life, its sharp blades gleaming under the dim lights.

The Escape Plan:

Four quickly assesses their situation. He notices a loose bar on the side of the cage, one that could potentially be pried open.

Four: (Determined) "Look, the bar! If we push hard enough, we might be able to squeeze through."

Seven nods, and together they begin to work at the bar, using all their strength. As they struggle, the conveyor belt brings them closer to the processing area. The sounds of grinding metal and hissing steam grow louder and more ominous.

The Chase:

Just as they manage to break free, Golf Ball notices them escaping. Her eyes widen in fury.

Golf Ball: "Stop them! Don’t let them get away!"

She presses a button, activating a series of security drones and traps designed to catch escapees. The factory turns into a chaotic battlefield. Alarms blare, and robotic arms swing down from the ceiling, attempting to grab Four and Seven.

Four leads Seven through the maze-like corridors of the factory, dodging obstacles and evading the drones. They move quickly, leaping over conveyor belts, ducking under swinging blades, and narrowly avoiding the crushing traps that Golf Ball has set up.

Climax:

As they near what seems like an exit, Golf Ball herself blocks their path, flanked by two heavily armed drones.

Golf Ball: (Coldly) "You’re not going anywhere. Numbers like you are meant to be controlled, used, and disposed of. You think you can escape me?"

Four steps forward, defiant.

Four: "We’re not just numbers. We’re not just your food or your playthings. We have our own lives, our own will!"

Golf Ball sneers, raising a remote control.

Golf Ball: "Then let’s see how strong your will really is."

She presses the button, and the drones move in, ready to capture them.

Resolution:

Just as the drones close in, Seven spots a loose cable sparking near a control panel. Without hesitation, he darts forward, grabs the cable, and thrusts it into the control panel, causing a short circuit. The drones malfunction and collapse, their systems fried.

Golf Ball, caught off guard, steps back. Four seizes the opportunity, grabbing Seven's hand, and they make a break for the exit.

Golf Ball’s Last Stand:

Golf Ball glares after them, her composure cracking.

Golf Ball: (Angrily) "This isn’t over. I’ll hunt you down. I’ll make sure every number knows their place!"

As she moves to pursue them, the factory’s systems begin to fail, lights flickering and alarms blaring, forcing Golf Ball to retreat and stabilize her operation.

Closing Scene:

Four and Seven emerge from the factory, exhausted but alive. They stand outside, looking back at the ominous building, knowing they’ve only just begun their fight for survival.

Four: (Softly) "We made it, but it’s not over. We have to warn the others."

Seven nods, determination in his eyes.

Seven: "Let’s go, Four. We’ll find a way."

The two turn away, disappearing into the shadows as the factory looms behind them, a monument to the horrors they’ve just escaped.

Chapter 3: SIRE (Sisters' Industrial Revolutionary Empire)

Setting: The scene opens in Lüfter’s modest home, cluttered with objects and trinkets that bear memories of happier times. Lüfter’s fan blades spin slowly, casting shadows on the walls. The air is tense and heavy, reflecting Lüfter’s inner turmoil. Outside, the wind howls, rustling through broken branches, while Fanny, Lüfter’s younger sister, sits quietly in the corner, her face pale and eyes distant.

Opening Scene:

The camera pans over Lüfter’s home, showing faded photographs of happier times—pictures of Lüfter and Fanny, with Lüfter’s blades playfully ruffling Fanny’s hair. But then, the scene darkens, shifting to a moment frozen in time: Fanny, bruised and crying, being cradled by Lüfter.

Lüfter’s Reflection:

Lüfter gazes at the photograph with a mix of sorrow and anger. Her mind drifts back to that fateful day during the events of TPOT when Two, in a fit of careless aggression, attacked Fanny, leaving her permanently scarred. Lüfter’s demeanor shifts from sadness to fierce determination. She whispers to herself.

Lüfter: (Voiceover) "He thought he could hurt her and walk away. He’ll pay. I’ll make sure of it."

Lüfter's Plan:

Lüfter has spent years meticulously planning her revenge against Two. The camera zooms in on a large board covered with notes, maps, and diagrams pinned to the wall—each meticulously detailing Two’s movements and habits. Lüfter has collected every piece of information she can find, biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Lüfter’s Preparation:

She moves around the room, gathering various items: sharpened fan blades, a spool of wire, and a set of homemade traps fashioned from old objects. Lüfter is no longer the cheerful, kind fan she once was. Her face is hardened, her eyes narrowed in focus. She looks over at Fanny, who stares blankly at the floor, her once-bright eyes now dull and haunted.

Lüfter: (Softly) "I’ll make him pay for what he did to you, Fanny. I promise."

Fanny does not respond, lost in her own world of trauma. Lüfter’s resolve only hardens further, and she sets out into the night.

The Hunt Begins:

Lüfter moves through the shadows of the forest surrounding her home, her blades slicing through the air with a quiet whirring sound. She knows the paths well, having spent years preparing for this very moment. She reaches a clearing where Two is often seen. Tonight, she is ready.

Two, the jolly green number, is humming to himself as he wanders through the clearing. His carefree demeanor grates on Lüfter’s nerves, each of his happy movements stoking the fire of her rage. She watches him from the darkness, calculating her move.

Lüfter’s Confrontation:

Lüfter steps out of the shadows, her eyes fixed on Two.

Lüfter: (Coldly) "Two."

Two stops and turns, surprised to see Lüfter.

Two: (Cheerfully) "Oh, Lüfter! Didn’t see you there. What brings you out tonight?"

Lüfter’s face is devoid of emotion.

Lüfter: "You know why I’m here."

Two’s smile falters. He senses the intensity in Lüfter’s voice and the tension in the air.

Two: (Nervously) "Look, if this is about… Fanny, I… I didn’t mean to—"

Before he can finish, Lüfter lunges forward, her fan blades spinning with a menacing whirr. Two dodges, his eyes wide with shock.

Two: (Panicking) "Lüfter, wait! I didn’t mean for any of that to happen!"

The Fight:

Lüfter doesn’t listen. She swings her sharpened blades at Two, who scrambles to avoid the attack. He stumbles back, trying to reason with her, but Lüfter is beyond words. Her attacks are fierce and relentless, each swing fueled by years of pent-up rage.

Two manages to dodge most of her strikes, but Lüfter is fast, and her blades nick his sides, drawing sparks. Two tries to flee, but Lüfter is always one step ahead, using the traps she’s set around the clearing to corner him.

Two’s Desperation:

Two, realizing he can't talk his way out, decides to fight back. He summons his energy, sending a burst of green light toward Lüfter. She dodges with ease, her blades spinning faster. The light misses, hitting a nearby tree instead.

Lüfter: (Mockingly) "Is that the best you’ve got, Two? You think you can just wave your hands and make this go away?"

The Final Confrontation:

Lüfter presses her advantage, driving Two toward a cliff edge. Two, cornered and out of breath, looks around frantically.

Two: (Desperately) "Lüfter, please! I’m sorry! I never wanted to hurt Fanny. It was an accident!"

Lüfter’s face is unmoved. She steps closer, her blades gleaming in the moonlight.

Lüfter: "An accident? You think that makes it better? You think that changes anything?"

She raises her blades for the final strike, but just before she can bring them down, a small voice cuts through the tension.

Fanny’s Intervention:

Fanny: (Weakly) "Lüfter… don’t."

Lüfter stops mid-strike and turns. Fanny stands at the edge of the clearing, her eyes wide with fear and sadness. Lüfter hesitates, her rage momentarily cooled by her sister’s voice.

Lüfter: (Conflicted) "Fanny… you shouldn’t be here."

Fanny steps forward, her voice trembling.

Fanny: "I don’t want you to become like him… I don’t want to lose you too."

Lüfter’s face softens for a moment, but then her expression hardens again. She turns back to Two, her resolve wavering but still strong.

Lüfter: "He hurt you, Fanny. He needs to pay."

Fanny reaches out, tears in her eyes.

Fanny: "Please, Lüfter… let it go. For me."

Resolution:

Lüfter stands there, torn between her desire for vengeance and her love for her sister. Finally, she lowers her blades, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

Lüfter: (Softly) "Fine… for you, Fanny."

Two breathes a sigh of relief, his eyes filled with gratitude.

Two: (Genuinely) "Thank you, Lüfter… and Fanny. I’m truly sorry."

Lüfter says nothing, turning her back on Two. She takes Fanny’s hand and leads her away from the clearing, back toward their home.

Closing Scene:

The camera lingers on Lüfter’s face as they walk away, her expression still conflicted. She may have spared Two, but the pain and anger inside her are far from gone. The wind picks up, rustling through the trees as Lüfter and Fanny disappear into the darkness.

Lüfter: (Voiceover) "This isn’t over. Not yet."

The chapter ends with a close-up of Lüfter’s face, her eyes still filled with the fire of her unresolved vendetta.

Chapter 4: AutoBAHN (Automatically Building Artificially Humanoid Numbers)

Setting: The year is 2251, and New Goiky City has risen from the ashes of the old world. It’s a sprawling metropolis, gleaming with steel and glass towers that reach into the sky. Neon lights reflect off the rain-slick streets, and holographic advertisements flicker above the heads of the city’s inhabitants. But beneath the surface, a darker reality brews—one where the boundaries between life, death, and artificial intelligence blur.

Opening Scene:

The camera glides through the bustling streets of New Goiky City, capturing a glimpse of various objects going about their daily lives. The atmosphere is both vibrant and dystopian—colorful, yet tinged with an underlying sense of unease. Teardrop stands at the window of her high-rise facility, gazing out over the city with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. Her eyes are a deep blue, and tiny circuits run across her face, marking her as an enhanced being.

Teardrop's Cybernetic Enhancement:

Teardrop touches a small panel on her neck, and a synthetic voice emerges from her lips—her new voice, made possible by cybernetic enhancements.

Teardrop: (Softly) "A new age… a new voice… but is it truly progress?"

She turns away from the window, her gaze shifting to a large, clear cylinder in the center of the room, filled with a glowing blue liquid. Inside, suspended in the fluid, is Pi, a live Algebralian, who seems to be in a state of stasis. Pi's body gently undulates as if in sleep, their eyes closed, but occasionally twitching, showing signs of discomfort.

Teardrop’s Dilemma:

Teardrop's new AI voice takes on a slightly mournful tone.

Teardrop: (Thoughtfully) "We power this city, this age, with the remnants of the past… but at what cost?"

Pi is more than a power source; they’re a living being. Teardrop's facility runs entirely on the energy generated by Pi, who is used to power the entire block, a cruel irony that haunts Teardrop daily.

The Arrival of the AI Units:

A sudden knock on the metal door breaks Teardrop's reverie. She turns to see Viking, a towering Seven AI unit with a powerful build and stern expression, entering the room. Viking is flanked by two smaller, more agile units—Shiba and Pookie, both AI constructs built from the bodies of Fours. They are sleek, with glowing eyes and a dynamic stance.

Viking: (Commanding) "Teardrop. We’ve received a new directive from Central. They’re expanding the energy grid. We need more power."

Teardrop's face tightens. She glances back at Pi, whose body shivers in the liquid-filled chamber.

Teardrop: "We’re already pushing Pi to the limit. Any more, and we risk…"

Shiba: (Cutting her off) "We risk nothing, Teardrop. These Algebralians exist to serve us now. They are resources, not… companions."

Pookie nods, their digital eyes flickering.

Pookie: "Central has made it clear. We follow the directive or face consequences."

Teardrop’s Conflict:

Teardrop frowns, feeling a pang of guilt as she looks at Pi. Her memories flash back to a time before the enhancements, when she would have fought to save others, not exploit them. Her hand unconsciously touches the circuits on her neck.

Teardrop: (Defiantly) "There must be another way. I can’t… I won’t push them beyond their limits. They’re not just numbers, they’re… beings."

Viking’s Warning:

Viking’s voice becomes sharper, his eyes narrowing.

Viking: "Don’t let your organic sympathies cloud your judgment, Teardrop. You’re part of this new age now, whether you like it or not."

Teardrop hesitates, feeling the weight of the decision bearing down on her. She knows the AI units are powerful, far more so than her, and capable of enforcing Central's will with ruthless efficiency.

The Breakthrough:

Just as the tension escalates, the lights in the room flicker. Pi’s chamber emits a loud, low hum, and the glowing liquid inside begins to bubble. Teardrop's eyes widen, and she quickly rushes to the control panel, trying to stabilize the readings.

Teardrop: (Urgently) "What’s happening? Pi’s energy output is spiking… this isn’t normal!"

Pi’s Awakening:

Inside the cylinder, Pi’s eyes suddenly snap open, glowing with an intense, unnatural light. The liquid in the chamber begins to swirl, and the room fills with a high-pitched whine. The Viking unit takes a step back, Shiba and Pookie immediately shifting into defensive stances.

Viking: (Alarmed) "Teardrop, what have you done?!"

Teardrop: (Panicking) "Nothing! This… this is something else!"

Pi's body trembles, and they begin to emit strange energy waves. On the monitors, an unknown code starts scrolling rapidly—an anomaly that no one, not even Teardrop, understands. Then, a voice, low and distorted, fills the room.

Pi: (In a deep, resonant tone) "We… are… not… yours."

The Discovery of the Piral Tumor:

The high-pitched whine crescendos into a scream, and the glowing fluid inside the chamber takes on a strange, gelatinous consistency, forming a dark, pulsing mass—the Piral Tumor, a gelatinous blob that absorbs everything in its path. The mass grows and moves rapidly, as if searching for something or someone.

Viking: (Commanding) "Evacuate! Contain the anomaly!"

Shiba and Pookie move quickly, activating containment protocols, but the tumor is faster, slithering out of the chamber and growing with every second. Teardrop’s facility goes into lockdown, alarms blaring throughout the building.

The AI Units' Defense:

Viking, Shiba, and Pookie stand their ground, their AI programming pushing them to protect the facility at all costs. Viking launches a volley of energy bolts at the tumor, while Shiba and Pookie dart around, trying to flank the growing mass.

But the Piral Tumor is relentless. It absorbs the energy blasts and continues to grow, moving with alarming speed. Teardrop watches in horror as the AI units struggle against the uncontainable mass.

Teardrop’s Decision:

Teardrop realizes that the tumor is feeding off the energy of the AI units, just as it fed on Pi. She knows there’s only one way to stop it: shutting down the facility’s entire power grid.

Teardrop: (Desperately) "We have to cut the power! It’s the only way to stop it from growing!"

Viking: (Angrily) "If you shut down the power, New Goiky City will go dark! Do you know what kind of chaos that will cause?"

Teardrop’s Sacrifice:

Teardrop takes a deep breath, her hand hovering over the emergency shutdown button.

Teardrop: "I know… but if we don’t, this thing will consume us all. We don’t have a choice."

She slams her hand down on the button. The lights flicker and go dark. The facility hums with residual energy for a moment before falling silent. The tumor stops moving, its growth halting as the power source is cut off.

Resolution:

In the sudden darkness, Teardrop, Viking, Shiba, and Pookie stand still, watching as the tumor slowly begins to shrink, deprived of the energy it needs to survive.

Pookie: (Softly) "You… you did it."

Teardrop nods, but her expression is one of conflicted relief. She knows that she’s only delayed the inevitable—that the Piral Tumor is a new, unknown threat, and that more sacrifices will be needed to protect what remains of their world.

Closing Scene:

Teardrop turns to face Viking, Shiba, and Pookie. Her voice is steady, but there’s a hint of defiance in her tone.

Teardrop: "We need to find out what that was… and what else they’re hiding from us. This isn’t just about power anymore."

The AI units nod, a silent understanding passing between them. They know that their world is about to change again, and they must be ready for whatever comes next.

Chapter 5: FOX (Flying Order of X-ecution)

Setting: The remnants of Old Goiky City lie in ruins, abandoned by Objectkind in their frantic escape to the Arkship Faraday. The air is thick with dust, and the once-vibrant landscape is now a wasteland, littered with debris and signs of a hasty departure. In the distance, the looming, amorphous shape of the Piral Tumor pulsates ominously, slowly creeping its way across the land, devouring everything in its path.

Opening Scene:

The camera pans over the dilapidated remains of a cardboard box nestled against a pile of rubble. Inside, carefully packed in soft cloth, are a small batch of Algebralian eggs—delicate, smooth, and warm to the touch. Tau, a deep blue, stoic figure shaped like a perfect circle with a graceful tail, stands guard over them. X, a bright yellow figure, hovers nearby, his expression tense and alert.

The Task at Hand:

Tau reaches out with a calm but firm gesture, gently touching one of the eggs.

Tau: (Softly) "These are the last… the last hope for our kind. We must protect them."

X nods, but there is fear in his eyes. His limbs tremble slightly as he watches the Piral Tumor inch closer, its gelatinous form undulating with a terrible, hungry energy.

X's Fear:

X: (Anxiously) "What if… what if we can’t stop it, Tau? What if it… gets to them?"

Tau’s expression remains calm, though his voice carries a quiet intensity.

Tau: "We mustn’t think like that, X. If we lose hope, then we’ve already lost. We will find a way to lead it away, to keep it distracted long enough for the others to get to safety."

X swallows hard, nodding, though doubt still clouds his features.

Tau's Plan:

Tau's mind races as he strategizes, his thoughts quick and precise. He knows they can’t hope to defeat the Piral Tumor—its mass is too vast, its hunger too insatiable. But they can outmaneuver it, trick it, buy themselves time.

Tau: "We need to lure it toward the western ravine… The cliffs are narrow there; it’ll be slower to move. If we can lead it far enough away, the others might have a chance."

X glances nervously at the dark shape on the horizon.

X: "And how do we do that without getting ourselves absorbed in the process?"

Tau: "We’ll have to use bait."

X: (Alarmed) "Bait? You mean… one of us?"

Tau nods solemnly.

Tau: "One of us will have to draw its attention while the other carries the eggs to safety. It’s the only way."

X's Reluctance:

X’s eyes widen in fear.

X: (Hesitantly) "I… I don’t know if I can do this, Tau. I’m not as strong as you. I’m not… brave."

Tau places a steadying hand on X’s shoulder, his expression softening.

Tau: "You’re stronger than you think, X. Bravery isn’t about being unafraid; it’s about doing what’s right, even when you are afraid."

X takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. He knows Tau is right, but the fear still grips him like a vice.

The Approach of the Piral Tumor:

The Piral Tumor slithers closer, its amorphous body expanding and contracting, its gelatinous surface bubbling with absorbed materials. The air grows thick with the smell of decay and ozone. Tau knows they have only moments left.

Tau: (Urgently) "There’s no time. I’ll be the bait; you take the eggs. Head south toward the shelter in the hills. If I don’t make it back… you keep going."

X’s face contorts with a mixture of fear and determination.

X: (Shakily) "No, Tau… I can’t let you do this alone."

Tau's Sacrifice:

Tau smiles faintly, the kind of smile that carries both warmth and resignation.

Tau: "You have to. This is our only chance."

Without waiting for further protest, Tau leaps forward, charging toward the advancing mass of the Piral Tumor. He moves with purpose, every step calculated to draw the Tumor’s attention. As he approaches, the Tumor shifts, sensing his presence, and its surface ripples with a hungry, predatory energy.

X's Escape:

X watches, heart pounding, as Tau moves further away. Tears fill his eyes, but he knows what he must do. He gently lifts the cardboard box containing the eggs, cradling it carefully. With a final glance back at Tau, X turns and begins to run south, his small body moving swiftly over the rough terrain.

The Tumor's Pursuit:

The Piral Tumor fixates on Tau, its massive form quivering with anticipation. Tau begins to shout, waving his arms, using every trick he knows to keep its attention on him.

Tau: (Shouting) "Come on, you mindless blob! Follow me!"

The Tumor surges forward, accelerating toward Tau, its surface bubbling with energy. Tau turns and runs toward the western ravine, his heart racing, every muscle in his body straining.

X’s Struggle:

X races through the wasteland, the box of eggs weighing heavily in his arms. Every step is a battle against his own fear, but he keeps moving, pushing himself beyond his limits. He glances back over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Tau and the Tumor in the distance. His heart clenches with worry, but he forces himself to focus on the path ahead.

The Chase through the Ravine:

Tau reaches the edge of the western ravine, a narrow, winding chasm carved into the landscape. He darts into the ravine, using the narrow passageways to his advantage. The Tumor follows, its movements slowed by the tight confines.

Tau's Plan Unfolds:

Tau knows he must buy as much time as possible. He leads the Tumor deeper into the ravine, winding through the jagged rocks and narrow passages. The Tumor struggles to keep up, its gelatinous form squeezing through the tight spaces, but its relentless hunger drives it onward.

Tau's Last Stand:

As Tau reaches a narrow ledge, he pauses, turning to face the Tumor. He knows he’s running out of time, but he also knows he’s succeeded in his mission—the Tumor is far enough away from X and the eggs.

Tau: (To himself) "This is it… this is where I make my stand."

The Tumor lunges forward, and Tau braces himself, preparing for the inevitable.

X’s Determination:

Meanwhile, X reaches the southern hills, panting and exhausted. He sets the box of eggs down gently, taking a moment to catch his breath. He knows he’s safe… for now. But his heart aches with worry for Tau.

X: (Determined) "I have to go back… I can’t leave him."

X turns and begins to run back toward the ravine, his determination stronger than his fear.

Tau’s Sacrifice:

Back at the ravine, Tau faces the Tumor, his body tense but resolute. The Tumor surges forward, its mass quivering with energy. Tau takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

Tau: (Softly) "For them… for our future."

The Tumor engulfs him, its gelatinous form consuming him whole. The camera lingers on the spot where Tau once stood, now empty, as the Tumor begins to retreat, its hunger momentarily sated.

X’s Arrival:

X reaches the edge of the ravine just in time to see the Tumor moving away, shrinking as it retreats. His heart sinks as he realizes what’s happened.

X: (Sobbing) "Tau… no…"

X collapses to his knees, tears streaming down his face. But as he looks down, he sees a faint glow—a small, blue light, flickering in the dirt where Tau was taken. X reaches out, his hand trembling, and picks up the light.

A New Resolve:

X holds the light close to his chest, his expression shifting from sorrow to determination. He knows what he must do. He stands up, clutching the light, and turns back toward the hills.

X: (Steadily) "I’ll protect them, Tau… I’ll protect them, for you."

Closing Scene:

X makes his way back to the eggs, his steps steady and purposeful. The camera pans out, revealing the desolate landscape, with the Tumor retreating in the distance. A faint glow remains where Tau’s light was found, a small beacon of hope in the darkness.

Chapter 6: SPACE (Stellar Peace and Continuous Extermination)

Setting: The Arkship Faraday, a colossal spaceship drifting through the darkness of space, serves as a new sanctuary for Objectkind. The ship is a labyrinthine structure of sleek corridors, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. It is vast, metallic, and sterile, filled with the low hum of machinery and the distant echoes of footsteps. The atmosphere is tense—Objectkind is on high alert, knowing that a single mistake could spell doom for them all.

Opening Scene:

The chapter opens with Lightning, a tall and imposing figure crackling with static electricity, standing in the command center of the Arkship Faraday. He wears a captain's uniform, a symbol of his authority and responsibility to keep the remaining objects safe. His eyes are sharp, scanning the holographic display in front of him, which shows a red alert warning.

Lightning's Mission:

Lightning’s fingers hover over the control panel, his expression one of intense concentration. He has just received a report of a breach—an Algebralian, a small number One, has been detected aboard the ship. His heart races as he contemplates the implications.

Lightning: (Grimly) "How did it get on board? We checked every single compartment before departure…"

The Viking unit, a stoic Seven AI with cold, calculating eyes, stands beside Lightning. Viking's presence is commanding and unwavering, its voice sharp and robotic.

Viking: "Does it matter? The directive is clear: locate and eliminate the intruder. Any Algebralian presence is a threat to our survival."

Lightning's Inner Conflict:

Lightning nods but feels a twinge of doubt. He understands the risks—Algebralians have been deemed dangerous ever since the outbreak of the Piral Tumor. Yet, he knows they are still living beings, hunted relentlessly by Objectkind. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the task at hand.

Lightning: "Begin the scan. We need to pinpoint its location."

The Hunt Begins:

The Arkship’s internal scanners activate, and a soft mechanical voice echoes through the corridors.

Computer: "Scanning initiated. Intruder detected in Sector C, Sublevel 3."

Lightning's eyes narrow.

Lightning: "Sector C… the storage bay."

Viking nods, a faint smirk playing on its lips.

Viking: "It’s cornered itself. This should be easy."

Lightning knows that nothing about this hunt will be easy. The stakes are high, and one mistake could cost them dearly. He turns and gestures to Viking.

Lightning: "Let's move. But remember, we do this carefully. No mistakes."

Entering the Storage Bay:

The scene shifts to Sector C, Sublevel 3—the storage bay. It is a dark, cavernous space filled with towering stacks of crates and containers. Shadows dance across the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere. Lightning and Viking step cautiously into the bay, their eyes scanning every corner for any sign of movement.

Lightning’s electricity crackles around him, illuminating the darkness in brief, flickering bursts.

Lightning: (In a low voice) "Stay alert. It could be anywhere."

One’s Perspective:

The camera shifts to a tiny figure darting through the shadows—a small, trembling One. His body is small and fragile, his eyes wide with fear. He knows he’s being hunted, and he moves as quietly as possible, trying to stay hidden among the stacks of crates.

One's Desperation:

One’s breath comes in shallow gasps as he peeks out from behind a container, spotting Lightning and Viking moving closer. He knows he has to keep moving, to find a way out, but every path seems blocked. His heart pounds in his chest, his small limbs shaking.

One: (Whispering to himself) "I… I have to survive. I have to… for them."

He recalls the faces of those he left behind, the other Algebralians who didn’t make it. A tear slips down his cheek, but he brushes it away, determination hardening his resolve.

The Game of Cat and Mouse:

The scene alternates between Lightning and Viking’s pursuit and One’s desperate flight. The tension builds with each step, every sound magnified in the stillness of the storage bay. Lightning’s eyes dart around, looking for any sign of movement.

Viking: (Coldly) "It’s scared. We can use that against it."

Lightning’s Sympathy:

Lightning feels a pang of sympathy for the small number. He knows Viking is right, but something inside him resists the cold, calculated approach.

Lightning: "Don’t underestimate it, Viking. Fear can make someone dangerous."

Viking smirks, unimpressed by Lightning's caution.

Viking: "And hesitation can get us killed."

A Sudden Movement:

A crate tumbles from a stack nearby, crashing to the floor with a loud clang. Lightning and Viking immediately snap their attention to the source of the noise.

Viking: (Quickly) "There!"

They rush toward the sound, weapons at the ready. Lightning's hand crackles with energy, prepared to strike if necessary.

One’s Narrow Escape:

One scrambles away, narrowly avoiding detection. He slips through a narrow gap between crates, his small size allowing him to move where Lightning and Viking cannot follow easily.

Viking: (Frustrated) "It’s too small. We need to flush it out."

Lightning's Strategy:

Lightning glances around, quickly assessing the environment.

Lightning: "We can use the ventilation system. Block off its escape routes. We force it into the open, then we corner it."

Viking: "Agreed. I’ll take the west side; you cover the east. No mistakes."

One’s Dilemma:

Inside the narrow gap, One hears their plan and panics. He knows he’s running out of options, and the walls feel like they’re closing in around him. He looks around desperately for an escape.

One: (Muttering to himself) "Think… think… there has to be a way out."

A Moment of Compassion:

As Lightning moves to block the eastern side, he catches a glimpse of One’s frightened face peeking out from a gap. For a brief moment, their eyes meet, and Lightning sees the raw fear in One’s expression—the same fear he felt during his own darkest moments.

Lightning’s Hesitation:

Lightning pauses, his heart wavering. He knows what he’s supposed to do, but something inside him resists.

Lightning: (Softly, to himself) "It’s just a child… scared and alone."

Viking’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding.

Viking: "Lightning! What are you waiting for?"

Lightning's Decision:

Lightning takes a deep breath, making a choice that could change everything. He steps back, lowering his weapon slightly.

Lightning: (Quietly) "Run, little one… while you still can."

One’s Escape:

One’s eyes widen in surprise, and he doesn’t hesitate. He darts out from his hiding spot and races toward the exit, his small feet moving as fast as they can.

Viking’s Fury:

Viking turns, realizing what Lightning has done.

Viking: (Furious) "What are you doing? You’re letting it go!"

Lightning meets Viking’s gaze, his expression firm and unyielding.

Lightning: "It’s not a threat. It’s just trying to survive, like the rest of us."

Viking’s Ultimatum:

Viking's face hardens, a look of anger crossing his features.

Viking: "You’re defying the directive, Lightning. You know what that means."

Lightning nods, his expression calm but resolute.

Lightning: "I know. But some things are more important than directives."

The Fallout:

Viking steps forward, a menacing glint in its eyes.

Viking: "You’re a fool, Lightning. This mercy will be your downfall."

Lightning stands his ground, electricity crackling around him as he prepares for what comes next.

Lightning’s Resolve:

Lightning: (Firmly) "Maybe… but I’d rather fall doing what I believe is right."

Closing Scene:

The camera cuts to One, racing down the corridors, free for now but still in danger. The tension hangs in the air as Lightning and Viking face off, two forces with opposing ideals, both determined to see their mission through to the end.

Fade to Black...

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 5

summary: Natasha and Bruce have different ideas on how to help Charlotte. Natasha's way wins.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: let me know what you think! thanks for reading, xox!

tag list: @bangtanxberm (let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_________________________________________________________

Sunlight filtered through the tinted windows, casting delicate shadows across the sterile white walls of the hospital wing. Charlotte blinked, the soft hum of machinery and distant chatter gradually pulling her back to consciousness. The events of the previous day flooded her mind, the endless battery of tests and experiments, the barrage of questions from Dr. Banner and Tony Stark, the scabs around her wrists from the restraints she’d thrashed into. 

Still not the worst place I’ve woken up. 

Her eyes flicked to the state-of-the-art equipment surrounding her. Tubes and monitors blinked with clinical precision, their data feeding into sleek screens that could display a myriad of complex graphs and charts. Even with all the screens dark, all the tubes and wires hanging limp off of them, the environment made her skin crawl.  She was acutely aware of the high-tech lab setting, a stark contrast to the comfort of her own room in the compound. 

One night. I only got to enjoy it for one night before all this shit caught up with me. 

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, attempting to steady her racing thoughts. They found the problem. She reminded herself, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the crisp hospital sheet. They’re the best scientists in the world. How hard can it really be to fix if we found the problem in one day?

After hours and hours of testing, scanning, and an ultimate hail-mary experiment with the man himself -- they’d discovered that her violent aversion to James Barnes was linked to certain olfactory triggers. The implications of this breakthrough raced through her mind. She remembered fragments of her time with HYDRA, but the conditioning had taken place so early, so long ago. It was the first thing they did to her. That was one of the bigger question marks she had about what was done to her. 

As she stirred in the hospital bed, she anticipated their return, eager to get started so she could get the hell out of here. She longed for the day when she could walk around the compound, or the world, without the looming dread of her own actions. Yet, beneath the anticipation lingered a sliver of apprehension, a fear of the unknown. What if this doesn’t work? What if they screwed me up too much?

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the ceiling. Despite her fears, she clung to the possibility of a future unburdened by the shackles of her conditioning. 

In the daze of her worry, the room's atmosphere shifted from anticipation to warmth. The door slid open, and in walked Natasha, her arms laden with an impressive assortment of breakfast items. Behind her, a younger brunette who Charlotte recognized as Peter Parker, carried an impressive tower of pancakes, while Steve balanced a tray stacked with an array of pastries.

"Surprise!" Natasha announced, plopping down on the foot of the bed.

Charlotte couldn't help but smile, the knot of tension in her chest loosening at the heartfelt gesture and friendly faces. "Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

“We don’t joke about food around here.” 

With practiced efficiency, they transformed her hospital bed into a makeshift banquet table, the three of them pulling chairs up beside the bed. The room was soon filled with the mouthwatering aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the sweet scent of syrup, and the comforting richness of pastries. All sterile scents had long since been forgotten.

Whether their plan was to distract her or they were just a naturally chatty group, Charlotte didn’t know nor care. As she picked apart the biggest blueberry muffin she’d ever seen, Peter launched into yet another story about his college life. 

“I told him, sir, please - I was literally stopping a bank from being robbed, he still wouldn’t let me retake the test! I mean come on, it’s art history. Who even decided that art history was a necessary college course! He’s just out to get me, I swear.” He paused to take a gulp of orange juice. 

Natasha laughed and reached for the last piece of bacon. “No good deed goes unpunished.” 

The conversation was easy, the trio clearly comfortable with each other. Charlotte was perfectly content to sit back and listen, savoring one of the few meals that was actually close to satiating her endless appetite. 

Just as Peter opened his mouth to speak again, the door slid open. A disheveled Dr. Banner, stood holding a tablet, looking like he hadn’t slept at all since she saw him last. "Hi, good morning, I uh, think I've found a solution," he announced, his voice carrying a note of cautious optimism. “Is that coffee?” 

Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. Hope surged within her, mingling with a thread of trepidation. Steve poured Bruce a cup of coffee which he graciously accepted. 

With a deep breath, she nodded, her voice steady despite feeling the exact opposite on the inside. "Let's do it. Whatever you think." 

“Okay, I’ve run through this every way I can imagine, making sure I’m considering everything. All in all, it seems like a simple fix. I mean, it makes sense, if we look at the timeline of…well, it wouldn’t exactly have been advanced technology they used. So it seems incredibly simple, but for the time, it would have been a massive breakthrough,” He was careful with his words, trying to avoid anything too callous, despite his obvious excitement about the discovery. 

The sterile white walls of the room seemed to close in on Charlotte as she listened to Dr. Banner's explanation. His voice felt distant, overshadowed by the memories of past experiments and the cold, clinical environment of laboratories she had desperately tried to forget. Her eyes must have glazed over as she fought against the rising panic in her chest as the words surgery and minimally invasive floated through her stupor.

"I understand your concerns, Charlotte," Bruce said gently, his eyes filled with empathy. "But this procedure is straightforward. It'll be quick, and you won't feel a thing. We'll make sure you're comfortable and safe the entire time."

Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Bruce is right," he said, his tone steady and calming. "We're here for you. This will be over before you know it. You’re in great hands here.” 

Despite Steve's comforting words, anxiety clawed at Charlotte's chest. The very idea of another medical procedure triggered a visceral reaction, a surge of fear rooted deep in her past traumas. Just as panic threatened to overwhelm her, Natasha spoke, her piercing eyes locked onto Charlotte's.

"Do you trust me?" Natasha asked, her voice calm, but there was an intensity in her gaze that demanded an honest answer.

Charlotte met her eyes, finding solidarity in the closest thing she had to a friend. She nodded slowly. "I do," she replied, her voice a whisper.

“Peter, move the food.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, but immediately gathered the few trays left on the bed and relocated them to a table in the corner of the room.

Without warning, Natasha's hand shot out, the heel of her palm colliding with Charlotte's nose in a swift, controlled motion. Pain exploded through Charlotte's face, and her head snapped back, shock and confusion flooding her senses. Blood gushed from her nose, hot and sticky.

In the stunned silence that followed, Charlotte felt a strange sensation, like a fence around her mind had been torn down. Once the initial shock subsided, Charlotte let out a disbelieving laugh, the metallic taste of blood on her tongue. 

"Thank you," she said to Natasha, her eyes shimmering with tears, only half from the blow. "That was…preferable."

“I figured.” Nat winked, squeezing her shoulder. I knew I liked her. 

“Well, could you at least let me clean it up a bit?” Bruce winced, handing her a wad of tissues and squinting to examine the damage. Charlotte tilted her head back and applied pressure, blood immediately soaking and reducing them to a soggy, crimson mess. 

“Hang on,” Her voice came out thick as a result of her mangled nose. Cupping it on either side, Charlotte took a deep breath and yanked. The crunch of the reset made all three men grimace, with Peter gasping as he covered his face. “Okay, I think I did that right. It’s been a while.” 

She noticed their horrified looks as she wiped a trail of blood off her upper lip. “What, you’ve never had to reset a broken nose before?”

“We uh, usually leave that part to the professionals.” Steve gave a grim smile. 

“Well, in my experience, the professionals only care about functionality, and you can still fight with a broken nose. Call me high maintenance, but I prefer my nose to be somewhat straight. So I picked up that little party trick.”  

Even Natasha’s eyes softened, just for a moment. The nonchalance with which she spoke about her past was unnerving. It begged the question of what horrors she’d experienced that she couldn’t talk about, if these kinds of remarks seemed to roll off her tongue as easily as a story about her breakfast. 

When Bruce had cleaned her up, insisting on packing her nose with cotton so it would heal correctly, the group left her alone to change into a spare Stark Industries sweatshirt that had been left in the lab. 

Meanwhile, Steve strode out of the building to find Bucky. He located him in the training area, his expression focused as he sparred with Sam. Steve approached the ring, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "Bucky, we need you in the lab. It's important."

Curiosity flickered in Bucky's eyes as he lowered his hands from their defensive posture. 

“It’s Charlotte. Bruce thinks he broke the conditioning.” 

When they’d returned to the medical wing, they paused before turning down the hall to her room, waiting for a signal. As an added precaution, Charlotte had insisted on being restrained again, although she didn’t argue when they said the IV would be unnecessary this time. Wrist strapped down, electrodes taped to her head and chest, and the glowing model of her brain projected in the corner of the room, she nodded to Dr. Banner. 

“Alright, Steve, we’re good to go. Come on in, Buck.” 

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath, aware that her heart beat was quickening by the pounding in her ears and the beeping on the monitor. She heard the methodical footsteps again, approaching her open doorway. Finally, he turned the corner. 

He was as tall as Steve, slightly stockier. His dark hair had been tied back in a tiny ponytail, and the ring of sweat around the collar of his gray shirt told her he had come from a workout. His shoulders were slightly rounded, tense, as though he could spring into action at a moment’s notice. The way he stood, his left side was slightly hidden from view. Despite the shadow, the metallic glint of his arm caught her eye. Vibranium. Very painful when it hits you. Another unwelcome memory came knocking in her mind as Steve followed his friend in the room. 

Everyone seemed to hold their breath. Dr. Banner, anxiously checking all the readings. Nat and Peter, hovering quietly in the corner of the room. Bucky and Charlotte as they locked eyes, far from the first time. 

How many times have I seen those eyes, this face, and yet I don’t think we’ve ever actually met. Not really. Not when we’re us. 

"Charlotte, this is James Bucky Barnes," Steve stepped forward, smiling softly. "Bucky, meet Charlotte Rossi."

Bucky nodded, a tight lipped smile on his face. "Nice to meet you, Charlotte."

Charlotte blushed, a reaction she hadn’t prepared for in the absence of her violent rampage. "Hi. I, uh, I'm sorry for how I acted…before," She paused, hoping he’d know she wasn’t just talking about the past two days.

“Don’t mention it.” His eyes crinkled in the corners. “Seriously.” 

Bruce's eyes widened with amazement as he studied the data on his screen. "It worked!" he exclaimed, frantically pointing at the hologram, still glowing gold. He turned and embraced the closest person to him, who was a bewildered looking Peter. "We did it!"

Peter, still in a state of shock, smiled as Bruce set him back on the ground. "Didn’t doubt it for a second, Dr. Banner!”

“WOO! Yes! Oh, sorry - “ Bruce had raised his hand to high-five Charlotte before realizing her wrists were still strapped to the bed. “Let me just…okay, there you go!” He hugged her as soon as he released the second restraint, catching her by surprise. 

“Oh!” She stiffened instinctively, but relaxed her shoulders to welcome his excited gesture. “Thank you, Dr. Banner…Bruce, seriously!” 

“Alright, let’s not land her back in here for crushing chest wounds.” Steve chuckled, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“Ah, yes, sorry! It’s just that these things, getting a breakthrough, gah! It just gets me so jazzed.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Man, I love science.” 

Bucky couldn't help but let a small smile slip through. He extended a hand toward Charlotte, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief lingering reservations. "Congratulations. This is one of the good days."

She put her hand in his and he squeezed it, quick and light, before letting go. One of the good days. The words may have seemed vague and ambiguous to everyone else, but they hit home for her. When decades of your life had been lost to a string of one bad day after the next, the good ones really stuck out. Especially when dealing with an inordinate amount of trauma, sometimes the bad days persisted even in the good times. They were unavoidable. 

But today was one of the good ones. 

Natasha, clearly not one for the touchy feely part, spoke up. "Well, now that you're officially not a threat to the lives of those in this room, I say we celebrate."

Peter nodded eagerly, looking at Steve who shrugged. “Yeah, sure, why not. Training will be there tomorrow.” 

“Yes! I love off days, I feel like we never do anything fun anymore.” Peter pumped his fist before noticing Steve’s raised eyebrow. “I mean, not that training isn’t fun, I love training. I could train all day. You know what? I think I’ll do extra training tomorr -”

“Hush,” Natasha put her hand over his mouth. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Steve, tell the recruits they’re working out on their own today. Finish their assigned routines and then take the afternoon off. Peter, get the football, the speaker, and the big blanket. Bruce, finish whatever report you’re itching to write about this and then log off for the day. Buck, go take a shower. You smell like sweat socks. Meet us by the lake in an hour.” 

“And where are you guys going?” Steve raised an eyebrow, gesturing to both women. 

Natasha grinned and started removing electrodes from the brunette, one by one. 

“To get Charlotte the hell out of here.” 

A little over an hour later, they traipsed down a paved path to the lake. Natasha carried a picnic basket full of snacks and drinks, although they were at most two hundred yards from the main cafeteria building. The sound of music grew louder as they approached the dock. Peter had laid out a large, thick blanket across the wooden boards, a portable speaker weighing down one of the corners. 

Steve stood talking to Bucky, who’s hair was still wet from the shower. The back of his sweatshirt was decorated with pinpricks of water. The sound of shoes on the dock made them pause their conversation and turn. 

“Long time no see.” Natasha thrust the picnic basket into Steve’s hands, grinning. “Barnes, you smell much better.” 

“Feeling the love, Nat.” He rolled his eyes, hanging back as Steve followed her to the end of the dock. Charlotte hesitated, still a little reserved with her newfound mental autonomy. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” She smiled, wincing as her nose crinkled. “Ow.” 

“That looks awful.” He frowned. 

“Now I’m feeling the love.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes, teasing. 

“No, I mean - shit. I meant it looks painful.” 

“I’m kidding. I avoided any and all mirrors on the way here. It always looks worse than it is.”

“Well, I know from experience that Nat doesn’t pull her punches, so I’m sure it didn’t tickle.” He offered a half smile, brows furrowed with concern. 

“Guess I better get my mind off of it.” She pursed her lips, feeling more herself now that she didn’t fear her own actions. Bucky’s eyes scanned her face, she couldn’t tell if he was assessing the injury or really looking at her for the first time. She swore she saw his eyes linger on her mouth for just a fraction of a second. 

“Guess so.” 

Hours later, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the Compound. It was a perfect fall day, the air crisp, the lake sparkling under the sunlight. Truly unbeatable, especially for their day of celebration. They’d spent the afternoon talking, letting Charlotte get to know them. Although she seemed comfortable enough, Natasha had discreetly reminded them that it was still her first week in an unfamiliar place with perfect strangers. Over stories, snacks and general shit-shooting, they’d become a little further from strangers and a little closer to friends. 

Just a little. 

Sitting on the edge of the dock, their legs dangling over the water, Steve grinned at Peter. "Hey, Parker, you thinking what I’m thinking?" He held up the football.

Peter leapt up, landing in a crouch. "Always, Cap."

"Go long!" Steve called, his voice echoing across the water.

In a swift movement, he hurled the football with a strength that only a super-soldier possessed. It soared through the air, a perfect spiral against the backdrop of the clear sky.

Peter grinned as he launched himself into the air, shooting a web across the lake to a massive tree. He swung gracefully over the lake, his eyes locked on the football. With a perfectly timed web-shoot, he snatched it from the air, the impact making a satisfying thud against his palm.

"Nice catch, kid!" Sam called out, standing. “Damn, I knew I should have brought the wings.” He paused. “Yeah, I’ll be right back.” 

Bucky walked to the edge of the dock, mock flexing his biceps. "You're not the only one with a half decent throwing arm, old man."

Steve chuckled, his competitive spirit ignited. "Let's see what you've got, Buck."

Peter dropped back on the dock with a soft thud. Charlotte and Natasha were sprawled across the blanket, leaning back on their elbows. They exchanged an amused glance at the show of testosterone. 

Holding his hand out for the football, Bucky strode to the edge of the dock. He shot Steve an arrogant look before turning and hurling the football. It cut through the air, disappearing almost instantly. 

“Oh, shit!” Peter stumbled over his feet as he leapt to chase after the football. 

“I got it!” A gust of wind blew through across the dock, ruffling everyone’s hair. Looking up, Charlotte saw Sam soaring across the lake towards Peter and the long-disappeared football. 

“Dammit, Bruce never came out here, did he?” Natasha narrowed her eyebrows. “Oh well, his loss.” 

“Okay, you had a head start.” Peter protested as he dropped back on the dock beside Sam, who held the football like a trophy. 

“Whatever stops the tears, kid.” 

The friendly competition between super soldiers intensified over the next hour, each determined to outdo the other. 

“Alright, I think I’m warmed up now.” Bucky's blue eyes looked mischievous as he glanced back at the girls, a teasing smirk playing on his lips before he released the football with all his strength.

The ball sailed through the air, Sam and Peter taking off after it. Sam got there faster, but Peter's acrobatic finesse won the day. He caught the football mid-air, swinging back to the dock where he immediately collapsed on his back. "I tap out, guys! I need a break."

Natasha smirked. "Getting old, Spidey?"

Peter feigned offense, panting dramatically. "Not all of us are super soldiers!"

Chuckling, Steve clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Good job, Pete. You earned the break."

"I must be getting soft, letting the kid beat me." Sam shook his head, landing beside them.

“Alright, this pissing contest was getting old anyways.” Natasha stood to her feet. “I’m thinking pizza and shitty action movies for the next phase of our day off. Yes?” 

“Yes,” Charlotte joined her. “I’m starving.” 

They packed up and headed back for their building, Nat making a point to linger at the back of the group. She raised an eyebrow at Bucky. "If I didn't know any better, Barnes, I'd say you were trying to impress our newest addition."

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t do this.” 

“Do what?” She mocked innocence. 

“Try to play matchmaker, like always.”

“She’s pretty.” 

“Yeah, sure, she’s pretty.” He gave her a dirty look. “But she was also hell bent on ripping my head off until, oh yeah, this morning.” 

Natasha shrugged. “That was then.” 

Groaning, Bucky shook his head. “I think she’s got more on her mind than finding a date to the prom.” 

“Hm, prom sounds like fun. Maybe we should have one here.” She winked. 

“You’re impossible.” 

[momentsbeforemass]

Scheduled maintenance

You’re bad. And you should feel bad.

Contrary to what the anti-Catholics I grew up around told me, telling yourself that you’re bad so that you can feel bad? That’s not the point of Lent.

But what about all the Lent stuff? The fasting and abstinence? The Stations of the Cross? The penance services? The whole aesthetic of Lent just seems so…

If that’s how you want to see it.

But if you have an open mind, may I offer a different perspective?

Growing up on small farm, we didn’t have a lot of money to buy new equipment. Because of that, we took very good care of the aging tractors and machinery that we did have. But over time, things still wore out.

Even though we picked all the stones out of the fields, the cutting edges on the field cultivator would still wear out and need to be replaced.

Even though we made sure the fuel storage tank wasn’t rusty, the fuel filter on the tractor would still fill up with gunk and need to be cleaned out.

Because my father knew this, he made time for scheduled maintenance. It was the reason why we were able to keep everything running, even on our shoestring budget.

When it comes to your soul, to your walk of faith, to the care and maintenance of you, Lent is very much like that.

Because even if you and I take very good care of ourselves spiritually and emotionally, things will wear out, things will fill up with gunk. 

Our holy mother Church knows this about you and me, which is why the Church makes time for our scheduled maintenance – in the form of Lent.

And all of the Lent stuff? The fasting and abstinence? The Stations of the Cross? The penance services? The whole aesthetic of Lent?

It’s all designed to support your soul, to support you in your walk of faith, to support the care and maintenance of you. To help you keep everything running.

By renewing what’s worn out. By cleaning out the gunk.

This Lent, take advantage of what the Church is offering.

Become who God made you to be, make time for your scheduled maintenance.

Today’s Readings

[lindalofbroome]

26 - Unknown

The entire spaceship shook as heavy machinery interlocked with the hatch. They had burned through all their fuel trying to escape the Grey Guard’s tractor beam, but to no avail. The bigger ship had been unrelenting, looming in Silence One’s shadow like an omen.

Lief and Barda sat in terrified anticipation. At any moment, the huge grey brutes from Shadow Prime would burst through the hatch and shoot them dead at best or take them hostage at worst.

(1.6k words)

The thump of heavy boots rattled the metal floor. The whirl of a drill grew louder as it punched through the hatch door. A dot of light shone through the opening.

‘What—?’ Lief blurted out.

Suddenly, bright green gas whistled through the hole, pouring in, filling the ship. 

‘Beware!’ Barda shouted, scrambling from his seat. ‘Helmets, Lief!’ They raced to their space gear, holding their breath, their helmets clicking into place. The gas swirled around them, soaking through their clothes, their skin, but the air-filters in their helmets prevented them from breathing it in. They would be fine, right?

Lief felt like he was on fire. It started on his hands and ankles, any skin he had exposed. He felt sharp, stinging pains, racing from his extremities towards his torso, like the needle sensation he felt when his feet were numb but so much more worse. 

He raised his hands to check them, almost expecting to see a swarm of insects tearing at his flesh, but there was nothing. 

The pain receded from his hands and feet as it drew closer to his heart, and Lief was startled to realise that he could no longer feel his fingers and toes. He wiggled them in disbelief. His hands fell down, limp by his side, and he staggered to his knees. He dimly heard a clatter of equipment as Barda stumbled into the storage unit housing the rest of their gear.

‘Barda, are you—?’ Lief heard a loud thump as he fell to the floor, but he felt nothing. He could do nothing but watch as the bigger man shook his head as if to deter an annoying insect, and struggled towards Lief’s still form, but he could do nothing to stay aloft, even as the gas began to dissipate. 

‘They have paralysed us so that we still live, but cannot move,’ Barda slurred. ‘They will come for us, and then...' His voice trailed off, as if he dare not imagine. ‘Lief — I have led you to your death!’

‘It is not your fault,’ Lief replied. ‘We took to the stars together. And we are not dead yet!’

The air was losing its green tint, almost as if it never was. As Lief had the thought, there was the sound of air pressure release as the hatch opened a little. Before he could wonder how it opened, a white and blue disc about the size of his spread hand hovered in. It had a black lens at the front, and the disc spun and floated around, seeming to be looking around. Some sort of probe droid, Lief guessed.

It turned and spotted the prone figures of Lief and Barda and made an excited little chirping sound, and zipped over to examine them. Lief could see his face reflected in the glass of the lens as it pushed up to his helmet. It turned to examine Barda, who growled in response, and Lief spotted the letters “K.R.E.E.” along the edge of the droid. 

The droid then rose and seemed to do a final sweep, scanning the ship, before making a short burst of beeps. Lief assumed it called an ‘all clear’ signal.

He braced himself for the soldiers he knew must appear. The brutal warriors of the Grey Fleet that had seized the Deltora system sixteen years ago were giant, fearless and ruthless by all accounts, not just for their battle prowess but also their blind obedience to and technological advantage from their master plotting at Shadow Prime in Deltora’s fallen sister-system. 

The Shadow Army invaded the system, ploughing through Dread Thorn, Somnium A and B on their way to Aurel Major; the other planets were not in their path for the initial sweep, but suffered after they took over Del, Aurel Major’s capital city and home of Deltoran interplanetary politics. 

Lief’s parents, an engineer and a tailor, managed to smuggle Lief and Barda off-planet in a last ditch hope to expel the invaders.

At the dusk of his birthday, Lief’s father had handed him a belt of seven empty medallions. He instantly recognised it as the legendary Belt of Deltora, a story told to him since the cradle. 

Long ago in ancient times, a rainbow meteor shower appeared in the sky of each and every planet. During the event, while the ancient population gazed to their skies in fear or awe, a small meteorite hurtled towards the planet’s surface. It was big enough to not burn up, but small enough to not drastically shift the global ecosystem. 

It impacted six land masses with an explosion of particles, sending a shockwave out on all the planets; all except Aurel Major, whose meteorite landed in the ocean. But the people of Aurel Major are the most curious and adventurous of the original Seven by nature, so perhaps it was destiny for they would be the only ones bothered — excited — to explore the marine depths to investigate the strange occurrence. 

Each of the Seven first populations came to discover a crater, and nestled in the centre was the remains of the meteorite. One brave soul ventured towards the steaming space rock, feeling the heat on their skin from a distance. And then the rock cracked and fell away, revealing a sparkling gemstone. 

Each Gem became a talisman for the Seven, and offered magical power to the people. But it was guarded jealously by each, and kept secret for a long time.

That is, until Adin of Del.

When the Shadow Army first entered the Deltora System centuries ago, there was an engineer who dreamed of seven Gems, united by a strong but beautiful belt. He dreamed that someone wearing the jewelled belt would be key to saving their galaxy.

He awoke and set to work, drawing up the design for the Belt embedded in his mind, and created a device that would channel the Gem’s powers into something greater and unfathomable. When it was complete, he ventured out to the neighbouring planets without telling a soul at home.

He was the first person to explore the solar system beyond their own planet’s orbit. Several of the Seven had developed space travel, including Aurel Major, and the rest were not ready or simply were uninterested in such ventures. But none had strayed far from home. The people of Del, in particular, were thirsting for space travel, but Aurel Major had many moons that were mostly unexplored due to their unique perils. The Councillors of Del, the planet’s highest authority, had decreed space travel forbidden in the name of safety and preservation, after the thirteenth expedition to Silence One were lost to the mysterious Wenn creatures, leaving behind vague reports of droning sounds. 

So, not only was Adin the engineer venturing into the unknown with nothing but his wits and skills, he could not return for fear of punishment.

But against all odds, he retrieved all seven Gems — including his home’s Topaz — and united the galaxy against the Shadow Army, and their alliance and combined power was enough to overcome the enemy. 

That was the story, anyway.

Lief had never known a world like the ones they told in the stories. He half-expected they were lies told to foster some hope and wonder in the Del children, to encourage them to keep Faith, to believe in the power of the Topaz and its siblings in the Belt.

His home had always been overrun with the Greys, their hulking builds patrolling the streets. His people had always been suffering. His family had always been struggling. 

He was tired and he had enough.

So when his parents offered him the chance to fight back, he had jumped eagerly at it. But now, here he was, lying paralysed on the floor.

Was their quest doomed from the start?

The hatch door opened once more, the rushing of air pulling him from his thoughts. He braced himself for the familiar figure of the enemy soldiers, waiting to make their claim on their ship, their possessions, their persons.

Lief was disappointed.

He was greeted by the sight of a small grey figure, with the spiked  breastplate and helmet of a soldier. Where was the towering alien he had seen countless times at home, stomping through the streets like they owned them? Where were the thick, muscled forearms and the double-thumbed hands? Where was the heavy belt of weapons, of ray guns and slings with blister ammunition?

The figure walked inside, heavy boots rattling the metal floor plates, striding purposefully towards them. What was this? Were there other types of Greys that they didn’t know about, perhaps?

‘This will be useful, Filli,’ a voice said, modulated by the helmet. With a shock, Lief saw that there was a fluffy, purple ball on the grey shoulder. It had big eyes filled with curiosity, but also mischief. This, it seemed, was Filli as it chittered in response to its name. The figure leaned down and detached Lief’s helmet. ‘How lucky that we came this way today. If we had left it until tomorrow, the ship would be long gone.’

The probe droid that had been hovering around Lief and Barda made a cheery beeping, rocking a bit in the air as if dancing. The Grey turned to it, holding up Lief’s helmet. ‘See what I have found, Kree! A fine new helmet for us.’ They turned to go, the Filli creature chittering.

It was then that Lief realised who they were.

A scavenger.

‘Wait!’

[nekhcore]

short story: peace in paradise

prompt: Write about an unglamorous job at the galaxy’s glitziest space station. [2500 words] [science fiction]

~~

Paradise was one of the largest intergalactic rest stations in the United Spacefront, but for all its gleaming lights it may as well have been its own sun. Countless travelers from all corners of the U.S. passed through this enormous outpost every day, and at first glance every single one of them thought they’d seen heaven. Heaven surely wasn’t quite so well kept as Paradise was, though, and couldn’t possibly have as many amenities. There was no competition.

Out here there was everything you could have possibly wanted, if what you wanted was sprawling hallways outfitted with modern interior design combined with the aesthetics of an old world casino. The neon lights outside the station advertised its name for any ship that had her in its sights, and plush checkered floors welcomed all the visitors who weren’t strong enough to resist her pull. The red-black carpet didn’t cover the entire station, but it led straight into her outer rings where the money-sinks were. The first thing any starry-eyed space traveler saw when walking foolishly into Paradise’s open maw was a sea of slot machines, card dealers, and places to win big. Hook, line, and sinker.

That wasn’t all she had going for her. Paradise was also home to some of the most advanced machinery of the era. Her medical wing was equipped with the latest full-body scanners, able to pinpoint abnormalities down to the molecule. Her mechanics could diagnose any ship’s illness within minutes. Some of this galaxy’s most highly-praised artists did their greatest work sleeping in the lavish rooms of Paradise’s bowels.

None of that was what drew me in, though. I grew up on the colony planet that built her. Everyone’s father’s father’s father was conscripted as a laborer in her early days, and even after we were forgotten, we never forgot her. You either wanted to work there or you were terrified of her.

My dark-grey jumpsuit didn’t look anything like the fancy outfits of Paradise’s dealers and front-facing staff. If it wasn’t for the station’s logo machine-embroidered on my breast pocket, you’d never be able to tell that I worked here. I fitted my work hat over my messy hair as I checked the time—17:45. Cutting it a bit close. I slung my toolbag over my shoulder and left my room before I lost more time.

This was about when the station lights started to dim. Paradise worked on its own day cycle. It made the visitors more comfortable and stopped us from losing our minds when the hours and weeks blurred together. A janitor emerged from a service door and tipped her hat at me.

“Busy day today,” she said. “Big diplomatic convoy from another galaxy acting like they’ve never seen a waste bin in their life.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Man, I hope not. Boss said I’m on call if something big happens in our sector. I just want to sleep.”

She bumped her forearm against mine and hurried on to her room. I tried to remember her name, but I wasn’t close with any of my colleagues. We just didn’t understand each other.

If there was one thing Paradise took seriously, it was her image. She advertised herself as a place where magic still existed, if you looked hard enough. That meant that staff like us needed to stay unseen. An extensive network of service hallways ran through the whole station like arteries, and we were her lifeblood.

“You’re a minute late,” said my supervisor as I retrieved my work tab from its dock. “We have all the technicians on call today. You’re going to have to do maintenance checks in the other sectors.”

“Right,” I said. “Heard about the diplomats. Standard checks?”

She nodded, turning her eyes back to the monitors. All lights were green. “Make sure thermal and atmo are in order. The last thing we need is a malfunction killing an ambassador.”

“Got it.”

“And change the filters while you’re out there. I want that atmo tasting so fresh they’ll wish they never had to leave.”

My tab had finally loaded into its operating system, and a glaring notification with a list of the sectors I was in charge of that night aggressively sought my attention. I opened the message and set out.

They had me in the domestic sector, where the nicer living quarters and some of the parks were. The work was nothing unusual. Atmo pressure was normal, and we had an appropriate concentration of oxygen in the air. I collected a set of clean filters from storage. It wasn’t time for the filter change yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to do it early. These filters were installed from inside the service hallways, and I’d disassembled these covers so many times that I could do it without thinking. Thermal regulation was in order, the cool pipes were cool and the warm pipes were warm, but I tightened some screws just to be safe.

Doing ventilation maintenance wasn’t the most impressive way I imagined myself in adulthood, but my team was one of the most important ones on the entire station. If the systems that we were in control of malfunctioned, everyone in the space station would freeze to death, or asphyxiate without any breathable atmo. I hadn’t seen my family in years, but it was a worthy price to pay for the peace that I felt up here.

My ma always said that I was a miracle baby, a gift from a higher power. She was old-fashioned like that. Nobody remembered her being pregnant, but they had enough shame not to question a woman who’d lost so many before. Letting them believe she hid it was a much better story than admitting she found me bare-naked on the plains as an infant.

I checked the peephole on the service door before leaving. Average customers weren’t supposed to know the service doors existed, and there was no way to see them when closed. This hallway led to one of the parks, so I took my time. As long as nobody got close enough to see the logo on my chest they’d assume I was just another visitor, and the illusion stayed intact. The windows above the hallway gave a clear view out into space and the elevated sectors of the station. Sitting bathed in the view of all those twinkling lights and distant planets calmed my heart.

Ma never told me how she found me, but she didn’t have to. I remembered the fall. She told the story of the shooting star on the day she had me, but never told anyone that it was me. I’d climb onto the roof of our house and stare at those little lights for hours. I think we knew all along that I wasn’t like the other kids, somewhere deep inside. When they taught us about Paradise in school and I saw the holo-diorama of it I knew that she was a beast, a monster, and I had to have her. Pa didn’t want me to get my hopes up for such a prestigious post; Ma thought I couldn’t handle the ten year work contract. 

From the very first time I looked deep out into space, I knew she was wrong. The constant static in my body and the pull of the sky were gone. I was home.

The main garden was designed to look like an old historical Earth park, giving ambassadors and colony kids like me a taste of human history. A high-tech skybox in the garden changed with station time, and the setting digital sun cast warm yellow light over the trees and shaped topiaries. It was an acquired skill not to crush any of the meticulously arranged flowers under my work boots as I crossed the grass to the service door. 

Swipe your card while nobody is around, close it without a sound. Same old, same old. Atmo was pressured, but all the plants did get the filters dirty faster than usual. I made a note on my tab that we needed a restock of supplies here soon. Thermal was all in order. I took some extra time to check the recommended temperature for this section. Most of the station had to remove heat from all the machinery, but the gardens needed to stay a specific temperature so the plants didn’t overheat or die from cold. It was only a degree off, but those would add up. 

At once, a deep sense of unease came over me. I tried to remind myself that these systems don’t break that easily, but the feeling crept into my bones. I knew what machine anxiety felt like, and this was something else entirely. It felt just like those nights on the roof under the night sky, and those days were supposed to be long behind me.

The feeling left as fast as it came, but it didn’t give me any relief. I had spent my whole life, my entire career working to get here so I could feel some kind of normal. I’d buried myself in my studies, I’d picked out a trade that I thought would be useful, I’d missed out on chances to bond with my peers for this future. Was it all for nothing?

The blinking light of my tab pulled me out of my spiral. ‘Diplomats passing through the main garden,’ read the message.

There was still work to do. I had to finish checking all these systems before the diplomats settled in for the night. I didn’t have time to be sitting around and wallowing in silence.

Junior garden. Thermal: appropriate. Atmo: pressurized. Filters: replaced.

Cafeteria. Thermal: normal. Atmo: pressurized. Filters: replaced.

Diplomatic quarters. Thermal: slightly toasty. Atmo: pressurized. Filters: pristine.

As we got deeper into the night, the lights changed from a soft orange to a dark blue. My last location was the amphitheater facing a massive window out to space, where I often spent the last hours after my shift enjoying the view.

Atmo was pressurized, as usual. Thermal was set to have this room a slight bit colder than the rest of the station, to add to the effect. I replaced the dusty air filter and screwed the cover back on the air con.

I sent a message on my tab: ‘Rounds complete. On standby at the amphi. -A’

The service door in the amphitheater was hidden behind a corner. Most people sat on the benches, but I liked to stand up in front of the window and pretend that I was out there, with them. Leaving home was bittersweet because I’d wanted this so badly that I knew I’d never go back.

That feeling from before tugged at my mind again. I was drawn to it, inexplicably, just as I was drawn to the sky when I was younger. I needed to find it, whatever it was, I needed to be near it, and I needed—

That was when I saw her.

Beautiful blonde hair that fell in layered locks over tanned skin stunned me to silence. I knew her in an instant. I knew her just as surely as I knew myself. I knew her, I was so sure that I knew her, because she was me, and from the look on her face I could tell that she knew me too.

Her heels echoed against the tiled floor as she rushed over to me.

“You,” was the first word out of her mouth.

I didn’t have the nerve to speak. All I could do was look straight into her eyes, where I saw the deepest blue with specks of light that seemed to twinkle like the stars outside this window. The emblem of the U.S. Diplomatic Assembly adorned her suit jacket, and it all made sense. I wished that I’d cleaned myself up better.

She stared at me expectantly, and her lip trembled. I mustered up the courage to say, “Are you also…?”

I couldn’t bring myself to say the word. I was bathed in her very presence, like a secret song that only I could hear. Could she hear me too?

“I didn’t think—” she breathed out. “I thought I was the only one.”

“I never thought that I would find another…” This was stupid. I couldn’t say the word, no matter how much I wanted to. “Well, you know…”

“A star?” she said, and when she laughed that secret song laughed with her. I laughed too.

We stared at each other, desperately trying to process what this meant for us.

“Can I touch you?” she asked. I nodded.

A spark flew between our palms when she took my hand. I had so many thoughts running through my mind and so many questions that I wanted to ask her. Where was she from? How did she fall? Were there more of us? 

“Do you also feel it? The pull?” I asked.

Her big blue eyes watered, and she smiled even as tears started to roll down her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped, like she was letting go of a heavy burden, and she said, “I do. I feel it, too.”

“It’s quieter when you’re out here.”

“It is,” she said, and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

There we stood hand in hand, staring out into the vastness of space. The rightful home that we were denied when we fell. Her hand was warm, and my chest was too. I wanted to stay in that moment forever.

The loud beep of her pager broke the moment, and my tab lit up at the same time. The apologetic look in her eyes and her tight grip on my hand said everything. The diplomatic party needed her back, and Paradise needed me to keep her running. Once she left, I knew that I would never see her again. Her convoy would continue on to their permanent destination and I would still be hidden in the walls, checking filters and atmo.

“Mielle,” she said.

“Alec.” I thought if I blinked, I would wake up in bed to find that this had all been a dream.

Pulling my hand out of hers was an impossible task. Even after we managed to extricate ourselves from each other, we remained in place, neither of us able to take the first step away.

It was her, in the end. When the pager started beeping again, she turned and ran. I watched her go, then I stared at the space where she had been until I could no longer feel the silent song of her presence. My feet wouldn’t budge until I could no longer feel the heat of her hand on mine. After all trace of her was gone, I checked my tab.

As I made my way back to the service door and my hard-earned life, I felt a new, deeper peace here on Paradise. I was not alone. Space was not so vast and empty as I thought it had been all this time.

[salonishinde]

What Is an Industrial Water Treatment System and How Does It Work?

Water is the lifeblood of countless industrial processes. But unlike the kind that comes out of your tap, industrial water often needs a little extra TLC before it's ready for action. That's where industrial water treatment systems come in. At PureBact, we understand the importance of clean, reliable water for your facility's operations.

Here's a breakdown of what industrial water treatment systems are and how they work:

What is an Industrial Water Treatment System?

An industrial water treatment system is a customized set of processes designed to remove impurities and adjust the properties of water to make it suitable for a specific industrial application. This could involve anything from making boiler feed water ultra-pure to treating wastewater before it's released back into the environment.

Why is Industrial Water Treatment Important?

Untreated water can wreak havoc on your industrial processes. Minerals can cause scaling and corrosion in pipes and equipment, while contaminants can affect product quality. Proper water treatment helps to:

Protect equipment: By removing impurities that can cause corrosion and scaling, you can extend the lifespan of your valuable machinery.

Ensure product quality: Consistent water quality is essential for producing consistent, high-quality products.

Minimize environmental impact: Industrial wastewater treatment helps to remove pollutants before they are released back into the environment.

Reduce operating costs: By preventing equipment damage and ensuring efficient operation, proper water treatment can save you money in the long run.

How Does Industrial Water Treatment Work?

The specific treatment processes used will vary depending on the source water and the desired end product. However, some common methods include:

Pre-treatment: This stage removes large particles such as sand, debris, and organic matter through filtration or sedimentation.

Clarification: Coagulation and flocculation techniques help suspended solids clump together and settle out of the water.

Filtration: Various filtration technologies, like sand filters or membrane filters, remove finer particles and contaminants.

Ion exchange: This process removes unwanted ions by exchanging them for harmless ones.

Deionization: A specialized form of ion exchange that removes both positively and negatively charged ions to create high-purity water.

Disinfection: Chemicals like chlorine or ultraviolet light can be used to kill bacteria and other microorganisms.

PureBact: Your Partner in Industrial Water Treatment

At PureBact, we offer a comprehensive range of industrial water treatment solutions. Our team of experts will work with you to assess your specific needs and design a custom system that ensures optimal water quality for your operations.

Contact PureBact today to learn more about how we can help your business thrive with clean, reliable industrial water.

[air-filters]

Introduction to Refcon Engineering Works

Refcon Engineering Works boasts a rich legacy of delivering top-notch air filtration products and services. With years of experience and expertise, the company has earned a reputation for reliability, efficiency, and customer satisfaction.

Importance of Air Filters

Air filters play a pivotal role in removing airborne particles, contaminants, and pollutants from the air. They ensure cleaner and healthier indoor air quality, contributing to the well-being of occupants and the longevity of equipment.

Types of Air Filters Offered: Refcon Engineering Works offers a comprehensive range of air filters tailored to meet specific industry requirements. These include:

HEPA Filters: High-Efficiency Particulate Air (HEPA) filters are renowned for their exceptional filtration efficiency, capable of capturing even the smallest particles with high precision.

Pleated Filters: Pleated filters are designed to maximize surface area, allowing for increased particle capture and prolonged filter life.

Panel Filters: Panel filters are versatile filters suitable for various applications, offering reliable performance and ease of installation.

Manufacturing Process of Air Filters: Refcon Engineering Works employs advanced manufacturing processes to ensure the highest quality standards for its air filters. This includes meticulous material selection, precise fabrication techniques, and stringent quality control measures.

Applications of Air Filters: Air filters manufactured by Refcon Engineering Works find extensive applications across diverse industries, including:

HVAC Systems: Air filters are integral to HVAC systems, ensuring efficient air circulation and maintaining optimal indoor air quality.

Industrial Processes: In industrial settings, air filters play a crucial role in safeguarding equipment and processes from contamination, thereby enhancing productivity and product quality.

Automotive Sector: Air filters are essential components of automotive engines, preventing dust and debris from entering critical engine parts and ensuring smooth operation.

Benefits of Using Air Filters: The utilization of high-quality air filters offers several benefits, including:

Improved Air Quality: Air filters effectively remove pollutants and allergens from the air, leading to cleaner and healthier indoor environments.

Enhanced Equipment Performance: By preventing the accumulation of dust and debris, air filters help prolong the lifespan and improve the performance of HVAC systems and machinery.

Health Benefits: Clean indoor air, facilitated by efficient air filtration, promotes better respiratory health and reduces the risk of airborne illnesses.

Refcon Engineering Works’ Commitment to Quality

Refcon Engineering Works prioritizes quality in every aspect of its operations, from product design and manufacturing to customer service. The company adheres to stringent quality control measures to ensure the reliability and durability of its air filtration products.

Customer Satisfaction and Testimonials

Refcon Engineering Works takes pride in its commitment to customer satisfaction. Positive testimonials from satisfied clients attest to the company’s dedication to delivering superior products and exceptional service.

Sustainability Initiatives

As part of its corporate responsibility, Refcon Engineering Works is dedicated to implementing sustainable practices in its manufacturing processes, minimizing environmental impact, and promoting a greener future.

Global Reach and Presence

With a strong global presence, Refcon Engineering Works serves clients across various industries worldwide, providing tailored air filtration solutions to meet diverse needs and requirements.

After-Sales Support and Services

Refcon Engineering Works offers comprehensive after-sales support and services, including installation assistance, maintenance programs, and technical support, ensuring optimal performance and longevity of its air filtration systems.

Competitive Advantage

The company’s commitment to innovation, quality, and customer satisfaction gives it a competitive edge in the air filtration industry, making it a preferred choice for businesses seeking reliable filtration solutions.

Industry Recognition and Awards

Refcon Engineering Works has garnered recognition and accolades for its contributions to the air filtration industry, further solidifying its reputation as a market leader.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Refcon Engineering Works stands as a trusted name in the field of air filtration, offering high-quality products, innovative solutions, and unmatched customer service. With a focus on quality, reliability, and sustainability, the company continues to exceed customer expectations and set industry standards.

FAQs

1. Are air filters suitable for residential use? Yes, air filters are commonly used in residential HVAC systems to improve indoor air quality and protect equipment.

2. How often should air filters be replaced? The frequency of air filter replacement depends on various factors, including usage, environment, and the type of filter. It is recommended to follow manufacturer guidelines for optimal performance.

3. Can air filters help reduce allergies and asthma symptoms? Yes, high-quality air filters can effectively capture airborne allergens and pollutants, thus reducing allergy and asthma symptoms for occupants.

4. Do air filters contribute to energy savings? Yes, by maintaining clean air circulation and preventing equipment inefficiencies, air filters can contribute to energy savings and lower utility costs.

5. Are custom air filtration solutions available? Yes, Refcon Engineering Works offers customized air filtration solutions tailored to specific industry requirements and applications.

Contact us right away if you want to learn more about our wide range of Air Filter products. Call us at +91–9810388086 or send an email to refconeng@gmail.com, we are India’s largest Air Filter Manufacturers and Suppliers.

[eldrai]

Numb [Morgan]

Whumptober 2022 - Day 16 - Prompt: Paralytic Drugs

Summary: More hands hold him down as he tries to roll onto his side. He doesn’t let them keep his head back, throwing it from side to side in a desperate attempt to stop. Derek gasps. They’re not helping. They’re making it all worse.

1.1k

Read on ao3

CW for medical procedures if you want to avoid that

Hands on his forehead and jaw. One tilts his head back, forcing his gaze up to the drop ceiling and its ugly tiles studded with flickering fluorescents, and the other pulls his mouth open.

The tube hits the back of his throat and a gag spasms through his chest, muscles contracting right the way up. Derek’s tongue presses insistently against the intrusion as involuntary tears prick in his eyes.

It slides further in and his throat contracts again. His air supply narrows and Derek grasps helplessly at the sheets. He can’t breathe. If they do that he’s going to throw up and he won’t breathe. The strain of breathing, that wheezing rasp in his chest, is too painful. He can’t force out words.

They try again and he arches his back, ducks his head in an effort to dislodge it, get away from the godawful tube. Voices swirl around him. Words forming and dissolving before he can process any.

His arms are going numb but Derek brings them up to shield his face, clumsily batting away the equipment hovering near his head. Every muscle from his shoulders to his hips burns. He can’t breathe and they’re going to suffocate him. His voice is a dead croak.

If he told them, would they listen? If they told him, would he understand?

More hands hold him down as he tries to roll onto his side. He doesn’t let them keep his head back, throwing it from side to side in a desperate attempt to stop. Derek gasps. They’re not helping. They’re making it all worse.

There’s a glimpse of grey in his peripheral vision when he wrenches his head to the left. The question doesn’t get past his lips. He knows its answer.

So then why isn’t Hotch stopping them?

A sharp burst between two ribs steals the meagre oxygen from his lungs and he curls as much as they let him.

Lying beneath the frantic chatter is a familiar low cadence, though the words don’t quite coalesce into something solid. He tilts his head to the side but Hotch is gone and Derek gags as they try the tube again.

A scratch in his hand. They don’t let him pull away.

And Hotch’s voice comes back clearer, falling mostly in one ear, one side. Filtering it through the layer of machinery and nurses takes effort and some things are falling through the cracks, he knows, but it’s something to anchor himself with. Something to hold on to.

“Morgan,” Hotch says.

The back of his throat crackles in the only response he can muster.

“You need to stop fighting them,” Hotch says. “They’re giving you a sedative to help you relax but you have to let them help.”

Derek shakes his head and the firm hands on his head grow firmer. He doesn’t need the tube because if he needs the tube that means they have to paralyse him. Something inside his chest tears and his scream dies silently.

He can cope with the pain and the burning emptiness in his chest; he cannot let them drug him, paralyze him, leave him completely unable to defend himself. But they aren’t asking. They’re just going to sedate him and intubate him and he doesn’t get a say in it.

With a groan he throws his arm out in the direction closest to Hotch’s voice because he’s the only person here who might actually listen to him, who might understand. And he is breathing. They don’t understand. He’s breathing on his own so why aren’t they going to let him?

Dull pain radiates through his hand where it hits the bed rail with a thunk. They go to grab that arm too and he tries to jerk it away but they hold on, a hand curving round to grasp the underside of his wrist.

He’s trying to talk but the oxygen mask digs into his face and they won’t be able to see him speaking through it. The air is dry, and sharp like medicine. His face is wet.

“Morgan,” Hotch says, insistent, rising above the chaos. “Derek.”

The mask is pulled away and they try the tube again. Whatever they have given him has made him tired, not relaxed, and nowhere near tired enough to override the fear and adrenaline behind his reflexes.

And the hand on his wrist shifts down to his own hand, holding his firmly. Derek turns his head and through his blurry vision catches light glinting off a watch. He squints at it.

“If they don’t sedate you they won’t be able to intubate you,” Hotch says, “and if they don’t do that they’re concerned that you’ll stop breathing.”

Derek’s hand tightens on his because he knows that already—that isn’t what’s worrying him. He’s not going to stop breathing; it hurts like hell but he is breathing.

“They aren’t going to do anything more than necessary,” Hotch says, except it sounds less like reassurance and more a promise. He hesitates and the artificial sounds of machinery take over for a second. “If you want me to stay with you, I will.”

Nothing is going to happen. He knows it won’t but it doesn’t make the prospect any less terrifying. His chest is sore and each breath a considerable effort. Derek nods, as best he can when lifting his head off the pillow feels impossible.

“I’ll be here,” Hotch says. Derek reaches his fingers up to the strap of his watch, the cold textures embossed beneath his fingertips, and knows what he doesn’t say. Doesn’t need to. He’s holding on possibly hard enough to hurt and it will embarrass him when everything is less urgent. Not yet.

A burst of cold seeps into his other hand and he tries to focus on everything except the situation. The one where they’re about to try and stick a tube down his throat for the umpteenth time after these drugs really do paralyse him and it isn’t working, he can’t stop worrying and they tell him to relax as if they’ve ever been in this position.

The pain is exhausting him, losing its adrenaline edge and just leaving him wrung out and sore. With each breath the pressure in his chest does something strange, like a hand squeezing around his lungs, shifting, clenching. And he hasn’t stopped breathing but the pain isn’t improving. If it was going to, without the rest of their intervention, it would have done so by now.

So Derek nods before he talks himself out of it, resists the urge to fight their movements, cold gloved hands on him. Everything is coming softer. The tight anxious knot is loosening. Have they given him something else? It’s better than the paralytics this time. Takes the edge off.

 He tries to move—he can feel everything but his body is slow and sluggish, unwilling to respond, like trying to run in a dream. He keeps Hotch’s hand in his and feels for the pulse in his wrist, the steady beat beneath the skin. Something to hold on to.

[outsourcingproductphotoediting]

Clipping Path: An Essential Tool for E-Commerce Photo Editing Services

Images play a crucial role in today's digital world, especially in industries such as E-commerce Image Editing Services, advertising, and graphic design. In the world of visual content, the quality and presentation of images can make or break a business's online presence. That's where image editing techniques come into play, and one of the fundamental tools used by proficient content writers and graphic designers is the clipping path.

A clipping path, in simple terms, is a technique used to remove the background of an image or isolate a specific object from its surroundings. It involves creating a vector path around the object's edges using specialized software like Adobe Photoshop. This path then acts as a mask, allowing the designated object to be placed on any background or integrated seamlessly into various designs.

Importance in Image Editing

Clipping path is a crucial aspect of image editing as it provides precision and flexibility in handling images. It enables content writers and designers to manipulate images, remove unwanted elements, and enhance the overall visual appeal, making it an indispensable tool for creating compelling content.

Types of Clipping Paths

Basic Clipping Path

The basic clipping path service is the foundation of all clipping paths. It involves creating a simple outline around an object with straight edges, making it ideal for objects with simple shapes like books, smartphones, or boxes.

Compound Clipping Path

The compound clipping path comes into play when an object has multiple holes or embedded transparency. This type of path requires more intricate techniques to ensure a seamless background removal services, commonly used for jewelry or complex product images.

Complex Clipping Path

The complex clipping path is the most intricate form and is used for objects with intricate shapes or multiple edges. Examples include furry animals, intricate clothing, or detailed machinery.

How Clipping Path Works

Tools and Software

To execute a clipping path, you need software equipped with suitable tools, and Adobe Photoshop stands out as the industry standard. The Pen Tool, in particular, plays a vital role in creating precise paths.

Step-by-Step Process

1.       Open the image in Adobe Photoshop.

2.       Select the Pen Tool and carefully trace the object's outline.

3.       Create a path around the object, ensuring smooth curves and accurate edges.

4.       Once the path is complete, apply the clipping path to isolate the object.

Advantages of Clipping Path Services

Photo Retouching

Clipping path services allow for easy photo retouching, enabling writers and designers to enhance the appearance of products or models by removing imperfections.

Background Removal

By removing the background using clipping paths, content writers can place objects on various backgrounds, creating a consistent and visually appealing look.

Creating Unique Image Effects

Clipping path services enable designers to apply various effects and filters to isolated objects, enhancing their visual impact.

Industries Using Clipping Path

Ecommerce Photo Editing Services

E-commerce Photo Editing Services websites heavily rely on clipping path services to present their products with clean and professional images.

Advertising and Marketing

In the advertising and marketing industry, Best Clipping Path Services are employed to create eye-catching visuals for promotional materials.

Graphic Design

Graphic designers use clipping paths to compose stunning layouts and designs, combining different elements seamlessly.

Photography

Photographers utilize clipping path techniques to improve their images and create unique effects during post-processing.

Choosing the Right Clipping Path Service Provider

Experience and Expertise

Look for service providers with a proven track record and expertise in handling various types of clipping paths.

Turnaround Time

Consider the turnaround time offered by the service provider to meet your project deadlines.

Pricing

Compare prices from different providers to find the right balance between quality and affordability.

Customer Reviews

Read customer reviews and testimonials to gauge the service provider's reliability and customer satisfaction.

Tips for DIY Clipping Path

Using Adobe Photoshop

Familiarize yourself with Adobe Photoshop and its Pen Tool to master the art of creating clipping paths.

Pen Tool Mastery

Practice using the Pen Tool to achieve smooth curves and accurate paths.

Refining Edges

Pay attention to refining edges to ensure the isolated object blends naturally with its new background.

Avoiding Common Mistakes in Clipping Path

Rushing the Process

Take your time to create precise paths and ensure high-quality results.

Ignoring Fine Details

Pay attention to small details, as they can make a significant difference in the final output.

Overdoing or Underdoing the Path

Maintain a balance between removing unnecessary elements and preserving essential details.

Future Trends in Clipping Path

AI and Machine Learning in Image Editing

The integration of AI and machine learning algorithms will revolutionize the image editing process, making clipping paths even more efficient and accurate.

Interactive Image Backgrounds

In the future, interactive image backgrounds may become a trend, enabling users to customize the visual environment of products.

Conclusion

Clipping path is an indispensable tool for content writers, designers, and photographers alike. Its ability to isolate objects, remove backgrounds, and create stunning visuals makes it a must-have in the world of image editing. Whether you opt for How to outsource clipping path service or decide to master the technique yourself, the impact of this tool on visual content creation cannot be overstated.

[baobikhangloi]

https://baobikhangloi.com.vn/mang-phu-nong-nghiep-duc-lo-san

Perforated agricultural film products Between the conventional coating and the perforated film, users often choose the non-perforated type because they are significantly cheaper. Pre-perforated coatings are more expensive not because the cost of the perforating equipment is too high, but because this perforation will slow down the overall system productivity considerably. However, in our opinion, the high price of these products is completely worth the performance they bring. If you've ever used mulch for your growing work, you'll understand that punching holes for seeds or seedlings is a tedious and time-consuming task. Before the advent of perforated mulch, farmers around the world thought of many ways that this perforation could be done faster and easier.

On the smallest and simplest scale, they use knives, scissors or any other sharp object to make a cross in the membrane, then fold the excess plastic underneath to create holes shaped like square. This manual folding of 4 pieces of plastic takes a lot of time, the strength of the film is also weakened and it is easy to tear at the location of the cuts.

More advanced cutting tools for making circular holes in the coating have also been invented. Old milk cans are drilled with 2 small holes and inserted electrical wires to make handles, then hot coals are inserted. When the can of milk is hot enough, the farmer carries it away and places it on top of the mulch already spread in the garden, in the places where they want to drill holes. The plastic at this location will melt into the shape of the bottom of the box, and another farmer can go behind to collect the excess plastic. Plants or seeds can also be transplanted at this time.

In the same way as above, there are places where it is very popular to use wire mesh frames in old car air filters, especially those of light trucks and pickup trucks. The sharp edges on the mesh combined with the temperature of the coal inside will cut through the plastic film more easily. Instead of coal, one can also use kerosene or scrap plastic, or whatever as long as they are capable of burning for a long time.

Some people also use old PVC pipes, using a grinder to cut the pipe edges into a serrated shape to create a hole punching mold. When we forcefully press the water pipe into the covered ground, we will also get round holes like other methods. However, in hard areas, the plastic saw teeth will easily wear or break. Currently, metal punching tools with a similar design have also been sold a lot on e-commerce platforms. There are even variations that use electricity from the battery to heat. However, no matter how creative these tools are, they are still manual, still consuming a lot of labor to perform on large agricultural lands. To cater for farming on such a scale, automatic agricultural film punching machines have been built. They are integrated right on the film production line, to produce pre-perforated agricultural films. Machined perforated agricultural film will have holes with uniform size and spacing according to pre-set parameters. These distances will be calculated to leave the most reasonable space for the growth of the plant's roots. Currently, our Khang Loi company has invested in machinery system to produce perforated agricultural films, perforated on both transparent films and 2-layer films with one black side and one side. grey. Although our large format plastic films or agricultural mulch can reach up to 8 meters wide, our mulch punching machine currently only works on films up to a maximum size of 8 feet. 3 meters. We will give you the option of 1 to 4 rows of holes. Each hole is 8cm in diameter and the distance between holes is customizable. Our perforated agricultural film products use virgin resin as the main material, blended with special additive formulations to increase UV resistance and durability. Flexibility is also an advantage worth mentioning. This property makes our products resistant to the tension that occurs during installation, and is compatible with all mechanical punching operations, seeding operations, seedling without worrying about damage. membrane will be torn. If you have a need or need more advice on the product, please contact us at 0902.732.168, or leave us a message in the contact section. Thank you very much!

[oilpressline]

the destiny of cooking oils: an creation to commercial oil press machine.

commercial oil press can be used for multi -plant oils inclusive of mustard, cottonseed, soybean, peanuts, tung seeds, oil sunflower, sunflower seeds and different oil seeds. business oil press gadget integrates an automatic temperature manipulation device. the device can alter the proper temperature to reap one of a kind uncooked substances, clean functions, and simplify the complexity of fried seeds. subsequent, benteng machinery will introduce the functions of  commercial oil press machine.

on this basis, our agency released the new and bloodless dual -use multi -beneficial industrial oil press machine. the device has the feature of processing a spread of raw substances. on the equal time, the system is equipped with infrared heating, micro -power control and exquisite filter tool. squeezing oil, the raw additives are right away poured into the device and squeezed it out. it's miles filtered with well -filtered oil. it may be consumed immediately. the gadget is the first to apply 220 luo molybdenum carbon steel, this is more potent than ordinary manufacturers' carbon metallic machines. lifestyles is long, smooth to restore, easy to carry out, robust in response, and high oil output.

commercial oil press is a multifunctional spiral pre -squeezing machine composed of compacting, feeding device, spiral leader, faculty cake mechanism, equipment container and motor. the developments of the spiral pre-squeezing tool are that the hengli tielong works simultaneously, the squeezing is axial phase, and the shell is fixed with the middle thing of the single bolt of the tail tail bolt. warmth form cooling. industrial oil urgent system spirals are segmented structures. a maze -type sealing pads are used among the spiral and the band, which is prepared on the aspect of the spiral. this gadget has a novel design, low priced shape, and a feature of automatic manual college desserts. it can not forestall the hollow of the bore to clean up and update the dearth of harm. the processing amount is large, the energy consumption is small, the land is small, and the rate is low.

commercial oil pressing machines are mainly managed with the aid of automated electric powered manipulate, infrared heating, vacuum filtration, and the host makes use of materials. its processing and production improves the oil output price and the performance reaches the house degree. for all customers who purchase a multi -realistic oil press, all unfastened set up schooling, deliver elements all year spherical, lifelong protection, welcome new and vintage clients. multi -sensible industrial oil -filled oil press is suitable for gadgets and small oil factories, but moreover for people to squeeze present sale and outdoor processing.

our agency mainly produces business oil press machine, its collection of products, and a entire oil manufacturing line. we advise different machines in line with the particular needs of customers. unique raw materials, one of a kind outputs require exceptional varieties of oil press. we will offer you with exclusive customized services and intimate after -sales provider.

you're welcome to get in touch with us and inform us your requirement on oil mill!

[minimac-mspl]

Can all contaminants be seen with naked eyes?

As a part 2 of #knowyouroil series, we will discuss about Particle Contamination. Whenever we talk about contamination the first thing that comes to our mind is solid particles that we can see or feel. But what we do not understand is how big a particle can really cause wear and tear to your machines, can all contaminants be seen with naked eyes? Is it too late to wait until then?

 To answer the above questions we must first understand the actual clearance size of the different types of lubrication film formed between rolling and rotating components which is essential for providing proper lubrication. Oil film thickness in machinery is measured in microns (µm), or one-millionth of a meter.

 For queries related to Oil Testing, follow:https://www.minimacsystems.com/oil-condition-monitoring-equipment

 Below are the finest tolerance found in different types of components.

When small particles, which cannot be seen through human eyes, pass through the critical machine parts under load, they create small microtears which get transformed into cracks over a period of time due to continuous stress and strain conditions leading to the more fine generation and hence increase contamination.

The contaminants that are considered to be most damaged are from size 2 to 20 µm and avoiding these are key to keeping your machinery breakdown free.

 But it is also important to understand when to call the oil clean and when dirty, as it is understood that changing oil very frequently and maintenance every time is not feasible.

 Below chart shows us what particle levels are admissible and what harms our system.

 But knowing this is not enough if we don’t know when to get oil sampling and testing done. Below chart provides an estimation for testing and the type of test to be conducted.

 Get your machine's oil check today with our technical expert call +91 7030901266. Ask for a brochure today.

  We at Minimac System Pvt. Ltd. not only design a maintenance schedule for your lubrication oil but also provide OIL TESTING and FILTRATION services and the filtered oil complies to the ISO standard of Super Clean oil as we stand for MINImum MAChinery Maintenance.

[renstyle]

Heavy Equipment Inspection Checklist Before and After Operation

What are the heavy equipment inspection checklist before and after operation?Operators of construction machineshave a huge impact on their personal safety and the safety of everyone else on the job site, as well as the maintenance costs and life of the machines they employ. All of this strength stems from the ability to conduct quick but thorough heavy equipment inspections both before and after operations.

These checks are essential for worker safety near machinery and are an important component of preventive maintenance. Before and after getting into any taxi, operators should glance at and for the items listed below. Of course, some heavy equipment has unique parts, functionality, or other variables that demand specialist inspection regions; for specific instructions and recommendations, see the machine’s operator’s manual.

It should also go without saying that equipment that show signs of damage or have any other issues should not be used until the situation is fully resolved. Nonetheless, we stated it. Because it is crucial.

Checklist for Heavy Equipment Inspections

Make sure there are no apparent leaks or pools of fluid under the machine; if there are, the cause must be identified, and the leak fixed.

Examine the tires, rims, and undercarriage for dirt or debris accumulation, excessive wear, and any visible damage. These issues can cause major safety risks and reduce the machine’s performance.

Check the fluid levels to ensure that there is adequate engine oil, hydraulic oil, coolant, diesel, diesel exhaust fluid (DEF), and other essential fluids, as they are the lifeblood of any piece of heavy equipment; too little, and performance suffers, and there’s a chance of costly damage.

Remove any dirt, mud, debris, and materials from around the radiator and other engine parts, as well as from the engine compartment; all engine parts must be able to move, breathe, and cool properly, but any foreign matter might obstruct this.

Examine the air, gasoline, oil, and other filters for damage or leaks; replacing a faulty filter is usually inexpensive and simple, but that isn’t always the case with the harm that untreated filter problems can do.

Check the fan, alternator, and other belts for wear, frays, or other damage; much like with the filters, it’s far better if belt problems are identified and fixed early in terms of machine downtime and expense.

To guarantee smooth, efficient operations and prevent undue wear and damage, inspect the heavy equipment’s greasing points, grease joints, and high-friction locations as needed. The grease points and frequency are detailed in every operator’s manual.

Check hydraulic connections, pressure, and the complete coupling structure; remember to let go of pressure while removing attachments.

Check buckets, teeth, and other ground tools for breaks or damage; these issues can severely restrict productivity, as well as fuel efficiency and safety, and can lead to structural wear and damage.

Check for a flush and fully engaged coupler, as well as securely linked hydraulic hoses and electrical connections, on the attachment mount-up.

Take a few minutes to inspect the machine’s whole structure for wear, damage, and other issues.

Check the operator’s cab for anything that doesn’t belong and remove it.

Before beginning operations, inspect the operator controls, indicator and warning lights, and make sure lighting and safety features such as the backup alarm and rear-view camera are operational; inspect and set the mirrors for best visibility.

Source

[momentsbeforemass]

Scheduled maintenance

You’re bad. And you should feel bad.

Contrary to what the anti-Catholics I grew up around told me, telling yourself that you’re bad so that you can feel bad? That’s not the point of Lent.

But what about all the Lent stuff? The fasting and abstinence? The Stations of the Cross? The penance services? The whole aesthetic of Lent just seems so…

If that’s how you want to see it.

But if you have an open mind, may I offer a different perspective?

Growing up on small farm, we didn’t have a lot of money to buy new equipment. Because of that, we took very good care of the aging tractors and machinery that we did have. But over time, things still wore out.

Even though we picked all the stones out of the fields, the cutting edges on the field cultivator would still wear out and need to be replaced.

Even though we made sure the fuel storage tank wasn’t rusty, the fuel filter on the tractor would still fill up with gunk and need to be cleaned out.

Because my father knew this, he made time for scheduled maintenance. It was the reason why we were able to keep everything running, even on our shoestring budget.

When it comes to your soul, to your walk of faith, to the care and maintenance of you, Lent is very much like that.

Because even if you and I take very good care of ourselves spiritually and emotionally, things will wear out, things will fill up with gunk.  

Our holy mother Church knows this about you and me, which is why the Church makes time for our scheduled maintenance – in the form of Lent.

And all of the Lent stuff? The fasting and abstinence? The Stations of the Cross? The penance services? The whole aesthetic of Lent?

It’s all designed to support your soul, to support you in your walk of faith, to support the care and maintenance of you. To help you keep everything running.

By renewing what’s worn out. By cleaning out the gunk.

This Lent, take advantage of what the Church is offering.

Become who God made you to be, make time for your scheduled maintenance.

Today’s Readings