#Freeze thaw cycles

[newtronic14]

FREEZE THAW CHAMBERS manufacturers india

[eusuchia]

on years when it actually snows, toronto still has such nasty wet christmases but man. even for this big mud puddle of a city it's sad as hell right now

[johnschneiderblog]

Icicle tree

Actually it’s a Japanese maple that happens to stand under the northern eave of our roof, where it catches the run-off from melting snow.

The freeze-thaw cycle of recent days has left the little maple well-decorated.

I wondered if the heavy icicles were bad for the tree, but the Internet tells me that unless the weight of the ice is threatening to break branches, knocking it off can do more harm than good.

[passengerpigeons]

I swear 2 God people will not pick up dog shit in the winter like "but it's cold". why would you own a dog in Chicago if unseasonably warm winter weather is "too cold" to pick up dog shit? some people really think themselves temporarily embarrassed snow birds

[sea-salted-wolverine]

In today's episode of remembering that the rest of the world is not Alaska and therefore does not have Alaska specific foibles, pavement just, stays flat, remains where you put it, can be skated on for years, doesn't heave and buckle in the first winter and jar the front end alignment of vehicles. Like. Thats how pavement works in other places.

[drforambhuta]

Significant progress has been made in the field of egg thawing and fertilization techniques. However, it is important to address several important considerations and challenges associated with these procedures:

Egg Quality: The success of thawing and fertilization is greatly influenced by the quality of frozen eggs. Eggs that possess good quality and optimal developmental potential have a higher likelihood of successful fertilization and subsequent embryo development. Therefore, it is crucial to evaluate egg quality prior to cryopreservation in order to maximize the chances of a successful pregnancy.

Sperm Quality: The quality of sperm plays a vital role in fertilization techniques. If sperm quality is compromised, it may be necessary to employ intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI) for successful fertilization. Proper assessment of sperm quality is essential to determine the most suitable fertilization technique.

Embryo Transfer: The achievement of successful thawing and fertilization is only the initial stage. To ensure a successful pregnancy, it is crucial to employ proper embryo transfer techniques and consider timing carefully. The expertise of the medical team and synchronization with the recipient's uterine lining are critical factors contributing to the overall success of the procedure.

Ethical Considerations: As assisted reproductive technology (ART) techniques like IVF and ICSI continue to advance, ethical considerations surrounding the egg freezing, storage, and use of embryos and eggs become increasingly important. Discussions regarding informed consent, maximum storage duration, and the disposition of unused embryos play significant roles in establishing the ethical framework for these procedures.

You can consult Dr. Firuza Parikh, who is one of the best fertility specialists in Mumbai, if you want more information on egg freezing, egg thawing, and fertility treatments like the IVF procedure and ICSI.

[shrimp-apocalypse-now]

people from every us state try to do discourse olympics to determine who has the worst potholes. well I think maybe the state has more of an interest in subjugation than infrastructure

[kagrenacs]

Long awaited, here is the soil map of Skyrim using the Canadian System of Soil classification. Brief description of my conclusions under the cut:

Chernozem: Whiterun Hold is likely home to the majority of Skyrim’s Chernozems. The majority of biological carbon sequestering in grassland environments are below ground, within the root systems. Organic material- humus, builds up, causing the upper layers of the soil to take on a dark colour. Additionally, Solonetzic soils could be present, peppered throughout the hold if the parent material to the soil is salty enough.

Cryosols are formed in Skyrim’s far North and high alpine regions. The mean annual soil temperature being 0 degrees C, with permafrost conditions. Freeze-thaw cycles lead to permafrost at the soils surface, but also cryoturbation: soil movement arising from frost action.

Additionally in mountainous regions, you would find Regosols. Soils which develop on unstable landforms and have had little time to develop, such as mountain slopes, or river floodplains.

Gleysols occur across the landscape of Skyrim, but primarily in Hjaalmarch. Gleysols are commonly found in depressions or low-lying areas where water saturates the soil continuously, leading to a molted characteristic to the soil.

Organic soils would primarily be found in the water saturated soils of Hjaalmarch. These are wetland soils found in forested areas and are commonly known as peat, muck, bogs or fens.

Borrowing from the USDA soil taxonomy, Inceptisols are light colored soils with moderate alteration, occurring under cool and cold climates. These soils would be found in the Eastmarch caldera.

Luvisols are associated with forested landscapes overlying loamy glacial till, or on clayey lacustrine deposits. Lake Honrich dominates a large portion of the Rift, according to UESP, seemingly draining from the lake. I believe this to be the site of a melted glacier, the lake being meltwater. Clay sediments are associated with lakes because of their deposition, coarser sediments bordering the lake near the shore, and finer particles at the deepest reaches. Additionally, at the end of the Karth river, where sandy deposits would be deposited at Solitude, before the stream looses power further down the river, leaving only clay to be deposited.

Podzols are associated with igneous parent materials, coniferous vegetation and high acidity. Primarily they are found in Falkreath Hold and Southern Eastmarch.

Brunisols are an intermediate stage between Regosols (undeveloped soils), and Podzol or Luvisols. I believe with the unstable, mountainous landscape of the Reach, soils would remain still rather undeveloped. Brunisols would also be interspersed among the Luvisols.

[bits-and-babs]

⋆ 𝐏𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃

Dark!Commander Mills x f!Reader

word count: 3.7K

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove Do Not Eat; this fic may be unsettling for some readers. Dark!Mills, Chasing Predator/Prey, fear, tense scenes. DubCon [Non-Con Themes?]. Mentions of body hair, Size Difference/Size Kink. Pussy slapping, unprotected p in v sex, tummy bulge, claiming, cream pie

➛ mills masterlist I| main masterlist |I send an ask I| taglist

Jagged bark digs into the skin of your back through the thin, soft cotton fabric of your shirt. You feel the amber tree sap seep into the canvas, sticking uncomfortably to your back and clinging to you as you try to ease your hyperventilation. The cells of your lungs vibrate with alarm, stinging as you suck in mouthfuls of oxygen.

Get away.

The sunshine thrashes you, your skin slick with the sweat that rolls down your temples. Heat ebbs at the edges of your mind, teasing you with the promise of unconsciousness. Rest. It urges you to let your knees slump, to ease your aching body down to the forest floor and close your eyes for a moment– you can’t. You can’t be certain how far ahead you were or how much of a head-start he had conceded.

It had been freezing when you awoke, the cold biting your skin raw even as it thawed. A low hum deafened your ears, subconscious tears frosting your coarse eyelash hairs together and forcing your lids shut. Panicked, you had pushed the heels of your palms to your eyes in an attempt to melt the frosty glue, feeling something slippy and thick smear across the skin of your cheekbone.

The metal tang to the scent that pierced your nostrils indicated you were bleeding, pain leaping forward in your skull and forcing your eyes open in your discomfort. Like a mallet smashed over your head, the sounds of your surroundings cracked through your ear drums. A deafening siren screamed, blurring your vision with the intensity of its volume. Glass tinkled against the metal shell of the cryogenic chamber as you’d wearily pushed yourself from the leather seat you had called home for an estimated double solar-cycle. Your limbs were stiff, unused and preserved in ice for twenty-four months.

Green flooded your vision as you rose to your feet, a flashing light on the data pad of your chamber indicating your apparent survival following defrost. You’d been thankful to see your vitals displayed across the screen– you had felt so awful upon waking that you were almost certain you had died.

Relief that had flooded your veins curdled into distress when the data pad beeped, a cursor swiping across the pixels to dismiss the notification of your stirring.

You hadn’t given the scene much notice from then, jittery fear shuddering over your skin and forcing your feet forward. The ship that had meant to deliver you to Somaris was nowhere in sight, but debris pieces of the vessel had lay strewn across the forest floor. Orange embers still glowed within the metal of some large slabs of metal.

The realisation had been slow to arrive, the throbbing remnants of a concussion sweeping nausea throughout your body as you stumbled over the fallen trees. The piercing ring of the alarm continues to circle your agitated mind, tormenting you with the sinking reality of your plight. Stranded on a planet far beyond the solar system you had come from, surrounded by alien creatures you hadn’t seen stored in information holo-pads and without a ship to re-enter orbit– all while attempting to avoid the person who you had no doubt was hot on your heels.

Initially, you had assumed that the scaly, lizard-like animals were causing the snapping of the twigs in the thick treeline of the forest. While some were humongous, you noticed some were of a smaller size. Even the creatures that reached your hips posed a significant enough threat for you to avoid them by ducking behind tree trunks and bushes, their sharp teeth dripping with saliva when they caught your scent.

Whipping around at the sound of another ‘crunch’, you’d caught sight of him. Long, ebony hair fell in strands in front of his face; his brows pinched together in a stalker's concentration. His lips set in a grim, thin line, recharge-blaster aimed directly at your calves. The amber sap that had coated your skin from the trees appeared to have drenched his eyes, irises burning a bright honey colour in the brutal sunshine.

You hadn’t stopped running since, chest heaving as the cells of your lungs screamed at the intensity of your pace. The thick fabric of your flight suit, coated in leather around the collar, was heavy to carry, your legs aching as you’d lept over each of the fallen trunks in your way.

Shuddering at the memory of the hours you have spent evading capture, you inhale shakily in an attempt to ease your thumping heart. It threatens to crack your sternum, bludgeoning the bone with its rapid pace. Even though you’d stopped for some time, dread kept your heartbeat thrumming like the wings of the birds on your home planet, your blood rushing in your ears and drowning out the squawks of the flying lizards, their beaks long and sharp, wings leathery with clawed hands at the joint.

A stream trickles nearby, the running water rippling around the surrounding rocks. The breeze is cool against your face, tickling your cheekbones in a soft kiss. Despite the rustling of the leaves, the babble of the small brook, and the distant hiss of the hot spring geysers, it’s utterly quiet.

Foreboding chills you to the bone, wringing you dry.

It feels off, this delicate balance of stillness. Trepidation crawls up the vertebrae of your spine and prickles your skin with goosebumps. There’s an ambience; thick with something sinister. It coats your surroundings and lingers in the air like unsparked lighting, threatening to pounce.

Your hair stands on end, blood freezing along with the beat of your heart when you hear it; the zooming charge of a blaster.

“You can’t run from me forever.” It’s delivered with an alarming deadpan, his even voice ricocheting off the tree line. You can’t tell where he is like this, your neck reeling on its shoulders as you frantically search the area.

Darting your eyes amongst the bushes, you spot him- his footsteps cautious as he picks each footfall carefully. He’s learnt from his previous mistake, ensuring not to reveal his position with a snapping twig.

You swallow back a whimper, skirting around the trunk of the tree. Palm pressed to your nose and mouth; you hear your trembling breaths as you attempt to smother them. It’s terrifying, the level of noise you make. You’re certain your pulse gives away your hiding spot- that the vibration of the very cells of your being is connected to an amplifier and blasting through the woodlands.

In contrast, your pursuer is almost silent, barely making a sound as he picks through the undergrowth. You wonder how it’s possible for such a large man to make so little noise. He’s so careful, so silent that you pause your breath to listen for him better. Where-?

“Sweet Thing…” you hear him coo, a slight taunt to his voice that makes your nails dig into the tree's bark. Your lungs threaten to scream, ankles promising to buckle beneath the suffocating pressure.

Crouching as low as you can onto the balls of your feet, you attempt to shuffle around the trunk's circumference. You’re careful to test each footstep, feeling for fragile foliage beneath the sole of your shoe before setting it on the floor. You swallow thickly, wincing as the dried leaves rustle quietly.

It’s as though time momentarily stops. The rubber of your heel catches on the roots of the tree, slipping down the curved surface and sending your foot crashing through the sun-baked foliage with a sickening ‘crunch.’

Oh.

Tensing up all at once, your muscles pinch with fear. You fail to suppress the heaving breaths that rattle through you now, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen and wheezing in terror when you exhale.

“Hmm,” a hum sounds to your left, loud to your ears. You bristle, the seams of your person screaming that you need to move, to run. Instead, you stay rooted to the spot, fight or flight bested by the primal instinct to be still. To hide. The atmosphere shifts, the chill of the breeze twisting to an icy disquiet.

Don’t. Don’t move, be still. If you’re still, he won-

They crawl across the curve of your jaw at first, fingertips creeping along the line of the bone before gently grasping your chin. White hot fear holds you perfectly still as his thumb pushes into the soft flesh of your cheek, the scrape of his knuckles biting into your skin as they purse your lips together. With your feeble attempt to shake him, his grip turns solid.

“Got you.”

His gruff voice rasps against the shell of your ear, lips brushing the thin skin and raising goose pimples across your neck and down your spine. Breath caught in your throat, you barely manage a whimper of response– the sound cracks in your vocal cords and sounds more like a startled exhale.

Your resolve fractures into tiny shards as he uses the grip on your chin to tilt your head backwards. Tension cracks between your shoulder blades at the awkward angle, your muscles straining as he pulls them taut. There’s a tensity at your throat, too, the thew connecting your jaw and neck almost pained by the extreme flex.

Amber. The thin strips of gold lay stark against the pitch black of his dilated pupils, irises merely a slither as the abyss swallows them whole. An eagerness paints his expression, even as his thick, dark brows pinch together in concentration. The hulking frame of your hunter stands above you, neck practically folded over to stare down at your kneeling form. He’s scanning your face, assessing each aspect of your visage and taking in the details. The paw grasping at your face tilts it left and right as he searches for… something.

Again, you wail as you feel his thumbprint dig into the soft flesh of your cheek. It braces against the edge of your molars, prints embedding– branding itself into the skin beneath it.

“Shh-Shh,” He hushes you softly, voice somewhat soothing now as he sweeps his knuckles across your temple and over your cheekbone. “Quite the hunt. Chased you all over, 70652. ”

The five digits of your passenger number ring through your eardrums like the alarms that had alerted you to your crash landing. It flits across his expression, a smug, mocking look as the realisation strikes you between your ribs like a wet blade—the pilot. Commander Mills, you had been told before cryostasis, was a skilled enough aeronaut to deliver you safely to the destination of Somaris. It appeared he had failed his mission.

“I- I don’t-”

“Everyone in the cryo-bay is dead,” he speaks over you, matter-of-fact in his unwavering tone. Your eyelashes flutter closed, confident Mills can feel your pulse pump blood through your veins as he trails his fingertips down your jugular. It tingles, the feather-light touch, adrenaline rushing over your body in surging waves. “It’s just us.”

“Hngg-” you mewl as he crouches behind you, dragging his lips gently across your pulse point as he breathes you in- the scent of your evasion. Soil coats you in an earthy smell, the metallic tang of blood from the scrapes of the thorny undergrowth. Mills groans against your jugular, scraping his sharp incisors over the thrum of your heart while savouring you.

“Aren’t you lucky?” He whispers, gravelly voice barely registering at this volume. Mill’s hand slips down your throat, calloused fingertips tracing down your central points. Your throat, your sternum between your breasts. The deliberate trail has your breath quickening, an underlying threat of danger making the hairs on your arms stand on end. “Lucky that I found you before those creatures did? Hmm?”

The delicate intonation of his question is deceptive. He’s not being kind- he’s mocking you. Still, the enamel of his teeth sinking into the concave connecting your neck and shoulder has you crying out, wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Mhm,” he lathes his tongue over the indents his teeth leave behind, splaying his fingers wide as he trails his palm over your stomach. Need unfurls beneath the weight of his hand, twisting and coating your abdomen when his fingers dip just beneath the waistband of the joggers you had been provided before entering cryostasis. “This... Is thanks enough.”

Heat creeps across the apples of your cheeks as you feel his hand slip further into your pants and wedge beneath your panties. You can do nothing but turn your hot face away from him, squeezing your eyes shut when his fingers brush through the thatch of curls across the curve of your pussy. Mills hums softly, your only warning before he’s sliding the pad of his finger through your slick cunt.

“Shit,” he grunts softly, the tip of his nose trailing up the length of your jugular. “So wet for me already.”

Sinews in your jaw ache at the force with which you clench your jaw, trying desperately to swallow down the moans that threaten to bubble up from your throat. Mills is circling his fingertip just barely over your clit now, the delicate touch coiling a throbbing heat between your thighs.

It’s a subconscious response, one that bypasses your brain and jolts your hips forward onto his hand. You don’t mean to, your fingers sinking into the soil beneath you as your body tenses. It sends a bright, hot arc of pleasure through your body and you wail raggedly, the short-lived friction enough to blur your vision.

Mills leaps.

Ripping his hand from your pants, he grabs ahold of your waist in a bruising grip, flipping you over onto your back harshly. It’s so fast, the world careening sideways. When you land it almost winds you, your spine hitting the ground with a thud. Twigs and rocks dig into your flesh, but Mills gives you no real opportunity to complain when he pins your body down with the hulking weight of his own.

Urgency spurs Mills on, pushing his fingers under the waistband of both your joggers and your panties before yanking them down your thighs. He doesn’t bother to remove them, abandoning them over your shins. They bunch around your ankles, movements restricted by the fabric. Your body is trembling, buzzing with something far from the fear he had originally inspired in you.

Mills is huge. Broad and muscular, when he leans his body over yours he almost blocks your whole line of sight. His muscles shadow through the thin fabric of his shirt, sweat causing the material to cling to his damp flesh. The chase across the forest seemed to have had little effect on his athletic frame, the exhaustion that had afflicted you unapparent when he pushes your knees back against your chest.

“Just look at you. Trembling. Panting. It’s gorgeous.” Subtle cruelty drips from his tongue when he praises you, watching your nipples harden as your folds are exposed to the cool air. Honey irises drag over your sopping cunt, greedily lapping up the view. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, so exposed to a stranger you had been running for in fear of your life just moments before.

“Please,” you beg, pathetic sobs cracking in your throat at the desperation to be touched.

“You’re in no place to be directing me, Sweet Thing.”

Despite his apparent refusal, Mills is pushing the trousers of his flight suit past his hips to expose his cock. Again, he refuses to waste time in removing them entirely, removing just enough to ease himself out of the confines of the material. You only catch a glimpse of his cock before he hoists your thighs over his pelvis, but your heart seizes at the sight– an angry, red tip leaks precum that smears across the inside of your thighs, veins protruding across the large shaft. You can’t fit tha-

God, he pushes the pad of his thumb into your clit and you yelp, seeing stars. A steady, wicked throb of bliss pulses through you as he applies pressure to the bundle of nerves, swiping his print back and forth. It’s overwhelming, and you can’t help the way your hips jolt as you feel him attempt to breach your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Stop moving,” Mills orders, hand wrapped around his dick as he sweeps through your folds. You’re sobbing now, tears welling in your eyes as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. He slips again, dark eyes flicking up to your face when your hips jolt upwards to chase his touch, the build of your impending orgasm catching you off guard with how quickly it seems to blossom. The third time, when the tip of his dick notches the inside of your thigh rather than taking root, his patience snaps.

Mills suddenly draws back from you, removing his hand from your clit before bringing his open palm down on your throbbing cunt with a brutal slap. Pain bows through you, blending seamlessly with your bliss and causes a sharp, high pitched cry of his name to tumble from your lungs. In your shock, your hips momentarily still. Taking advantage of your dazed state, Mills quickly lines his pulsing cock against your cunt and drives home, swiftly ramming into you with an abrupt snap of his hips.

A haggard gasp rips through your throat at the sudden intrusion, the painful stretch of his cock cracking through you and making your eyes roll back. Dirt cakes under your fingernails as you grasp feebly at the damp soil, trying and failing to find any kind of purchase to ground yourself.

“Take it,” Mills orders, his gruff voice impossibly reaching lower octaves as he pushes his length further into you. He sits back slightly, his eyes almost pitch black with how his pupils swallow them up as they settle on your cunt. Fascinated, he watches your lips stretch around his girth and paint his protruding veins with your slick. “Make it fit— Shit!”

His crude growl scrapes your eardrums as he bottoms out inside of you, hips flush with your own. You can’t breathe, feeling as though he’s big enough to settle amongst your lungs. You heave shallow breaths, your head pulsing with mind-numbing dizziness.

Then he’s moving. He drives forward at first, reaching depths inside you that make your abdomen ache before pulling out of you. The stark emptiness he leaves you with is short-lived, thrusting forward and stealing what little oxygen you had swallowed down.

Heat simmers through you with each shred of the head of his cock against something blinding inside of you. It gives you no room to think, to move, the cruel pace Mills sets. It’s merciless, pummelling into you and driving you up across the forest floor. “Fuuuuck, that’s good,” Mills groans loudly, holding on tight to your hips to prevent you from sliding away from him. You sob brokenly, hitting his chest with the heel of your palm as you struggle against the orgasm that’s practically hurtling towards you. Christ, his dick is so hard, ramming through you and pushing up against your cervix and causing a delightful ache.

The wet sounds of him thrusting into you are obscene, slick and desperate as he begins to pull you down onto the snaps of his hips. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, collecting in your hairline as you sob his name over and over.

“Look at you,” Mills practically snarls, eyes set on the bulge in your lower abdomen and in awe of what he finds there. Fuck fuck fuck. You can see him, see the outline of his cock driving in and out of you through your abdomen. “Mine.”

Through your haze, you feel Mills press his giant palm against your abdomen, feeling himself twitch and thrust inside of you. His forehead drops against your shoulder, hips beginning to stutter as your walls flutter around him.

It’s overwhelming; the intense pace, the brutality of his thrusts, the way your clit brushes against the pubic hairs on his lower pelvis. You sound fucking wrecked, wails spluttering with each devastating rock of his hips.

“Aha-ah- ohfuck,” you babble, eyes rolling back as your body curls inwards. You’re burning, tightening, your orgasm creeping across the pit of your stomach. “I-I’m gonna-“

Mills groans loudly, and your back arches suddenly when he bites into your collarbone. His teeth sink into your flesh, hard enough to draw blood, and the pain shoves you right over the ledge you’d been dancing over. You cum with a scream of his name, clamping down around his cock as ecstasy surges through you from head to toe. Your vision blurs, hearing cuts out.

“Shit,” you hear him spit distantly, despite the close proximity to your ears. Mills’ hips push up deep inside of you, his body lurching and trembling as he cums inside of you. It feels, even in your altered state of consciousness, like it takes forever. Milking him endlessly, his breath shuddering against the wound on your clavicle as he gently grinds into you to ease himself down from the high.

There’s no movement, no sudden release of your body and flopping to the side. Mills stays stuffed within you, your mixed cum dribbling down the inside of your thighs as he squeezes the flesh of your hips with his palms.

Your sobs of his name had been loud, noisy enough to draw in all kinds of lizard creatures, but Mills seems insistent on remaining like this, scraping his teeth across the curve of your shoulder and beginning to rock into your swollen cunt again.

“There’s a few hours before nightfall,” he talks over your garbled string of noises, overstimulated and exhausted from the hours of running and the brutal way he had fucked into you. “You can take me again before then, can’t you, Sweet Thing? Before we head back to the ship?”

Your body resigns to his question, already far too wearied and submissive to argue what feels more like an order than a question— besides, bliss is already pooling in between your thighs when he pinches your clit with the pads of his forefinger and thumb.

“Good Girl.”

END

Join the Tag List Misc Character Taglist: @glassbxttless, @peachyproserpina, @pansa-1-san @htccu7gho9

Gif belongs to @zachsnydered

[themirokai]

now I wanna know- why isn't drinking water free in the US?

Hi there friend! Thanks very much for taking the bait from this post. Buckle up, this is a long one.

If you want to put out a cistern and collect rainwater and use that, congratulations! Your water is free! Plus the cost of maintaining your cistern and keeping it clean. If you’re lucky enough to live somewhere with a high enough water table to have a well, then your water is also free + the cost of the well and well maintenance.

But if you want water to come out of your tap on demand and you can’t or don’t want to maintain a cistern and you can’t or don’t want to have a well… you need public water!

How do we get public water? Well, a government entity (usually. there are some private utilities, but that’s a different post. I have strong feelings) has rights to take water out of a river or a lake, or they have a reservoir, or they have access to an aquifer. Then they have to transport the water out of the source. This generally requires aqueducts or massive pipes, which are expensive and need to be maintained, which is also expensive. The pipe leading out of one of my utility’s reservoirs is 12 feet in diameter.

Does the water go directly from the source to your home? Nope! It gets piped to a water filtration plant! The process of modern water filtration is complicated but it involves both physical and chemical treatment to make sure the water isn’t carrying any parasites, harmful bacteria, or pollutants and it has the right pH. Not only are these filtration plants extremely expensive to build and maintain but the process of operating them is extremely expensive, both in terms of hiring skilled staff and having appropriate materials for the filters and chemical treatment.

After the treated water (called “finished water” in the biz) is ready it does get piped to your house.

If you use public water, do you know where your local water filtration plant is? No? That probably means it’s not in your immediate neighborhood, which probably means it’s several miles or more away. To get to your house, the water needs to travel through an extensive pipe network. These pipes are smaller but they have to remain pressurized so that no contaminants can get into the water on its way to your house. But pipes break! Especially if you live somewhere with a freeze/thaw cycle. Maintaining this pipe network is, you guessed it, expensive! It requires materials and extremely skilled workers who perform in very very difficult conditions. Plus lots of engineering to keep the whole system pressurized even when one part of it breaks. Oh, and you know what lots of pipes were made out of in the early 20th century? Lead! So all around the country utilities need to make extensive and costly infrastructure upgrades because now we know lead pipes are really freaking bad.

Okay, so you get the basic picture. And I haven’t even gotten into Safe Drinking Water Act compliance, but most of that happens at the filtration plant. Oo! Or desalinization because some utilities pull their water from the sea and need to take the salt out. I know basically nothing about this except that it is likely complicated and expensive to do at scale.

This is essentially why I get frustrated by people who argue “why should we pay for something that falls out of the sky?” Because finished water doesn’t fall from the sky and it sure as hell doesn’t fall from the sky into your faucet. (Side note: as a public utility official I have been screamed at by the “it falls from the sky” people. A thing I like about the private sector is that people scream at me a lot less.)

Now, there is a very strong argument to be made that because water is necessary for human life, it should be provided by the government for free to everyone. And just like the costs of roads or public education, this should be part of the public budget and paid for by taxes and no one should have a water bill. I don’t disagree with this. I’m sure that’s how it’s done in some countries.

I don’t have a well-researched answer on the history of water utilities but I do have some facts and some (very) educated conjectures. Water rights in the US are complicated (another separate post!) but they’re based on private ownership. Ever since white people came to this country people have been claiming ownership over water and charging each other money for taking water out of rivers or lakes or the ground. You can measure how much of it someone uses and charge them for it. Water is treated like a commodity because unlike other public goods, it *can* be treated like a commodity and then, you know, capitalism. Again, I’m not saying that’s right.

But as a society, if we believe that no one should have a water bill, then we need to figure out how to pay for all the very expensive steps in the process I outlined at the top. Could that just be taxes? Sure, if you have a system that supports taxes at that level. Do I believe that public funding of water infrastructure would be a fuckton better than a lot of things we use taxes for now? Absolutely! But that requires massive institutional change and this isn’t generally an issue that people know enough about to demand change.

If you read this far, congratulations! You now know more stuff about drinking water!

[newtronic14]

FREEZE THAW CHAMBERS manufacturers india

[seat-safety-switch]

Geese fly south for the winter, which is something that seems reasonable to do. Why would you want to stick around, freezing your nuts off, struggling to find food, when you could just go somewhere warm for a few months and come back later? Those waterfowl don't have a second mortgage, or even a first one. They just hang out in a public park all day, poop on the grass, and occasionally get chased by a dog. What a life.

There is one thing the geese lack, though: access to humanity's greatest achievement, the shitty old car. New cars, maybe, if their credit is good. No goose or duck or even swan can afford to keep a 1991 Beretta GTZ on the road, mostly because doing so is beyond their abilities. They can't hold a wrench: I thought that would be obvious to you, but sometimes I have to be explicit about this stuff. And hiring a mechanic is right out, because geese do not believe in paying money for services.

Why don't I just take my shitty old car and head south for the winter, too? Surely, it would last even longer if it wasn't exposed to vicious amounts of road salt and a freeze-thaw cycle that even the mountains themselves cannot survive. It's a reasonable question, and the only valid answer is that I can only drive one shitbox at a time. Even flat-towing another car behind me will only give me one extra chance, should the lead vehicle throw a rod on the way there. That's simply not good enough, especially since I have to return home after, and high-mileage hoopties cost too much in places where they don't disintegrate when exposed to free air.

This winter, I'll be sitting on my porch, watching the swans fly south without a hint of envy. And I hope you will too, because that will give us a chance to see each others' faces before we lock ourselves into our suburban tombs for the next six months, swearing at how cold the floor has gotten and wondering if we still have any working car batteries left.

[luna-rainbow]

that ask/meta about Bucky and sleeping broke my heart. I always feel sad when seeing that scene of them manhandling Bucky out of the vault and so but to know they manhandled him while he was basically dead is just sad as hell. he deserved better than a bunch of criminals doing that to him. 😔

while writing this a question came to my mind: what do you think are all the things attached to his body in that opening scene of civil war? I always thought the mask was oxygen but if he was basically dead then he didn't need oxygen, right? plus he's not wearing a mask in other times when we saw him being put under cryo, so what was that for? and the things around his chest??

Thanks for the ask! Cryo is not at all within the realm of my knowledge because there’s complicated physics involved 😂 And to be fair, I think this is classic movie science where the creators themselves have done very little research into how cryo is achieved.

This article provides a good run-down of the theory behind cryopreservation, but it’s from 2008 and technology and our understanding of cell metabolism is likely different now.

To summarise:

The subject needs to be cooled to -120C to be held in cryostasis. At these temperatures, chemical reactions are so slow that the cells can stay stable for centuries.

Blood is removed before the subject has been cooled below 0C and vitrification mixtures are injected into the subject to prevent ice crystal formation. This mixture is toxic, so has to be tightly controlled for the temperature it is given.

Another factor to control for is reperfusion injury upon warming and re-infusing the subject with blood.

Other interesting facts noted in that article is that humans have been cooled to 16-24C with cardiac arrest of more than an hour, then reawakened without neurological damage, which is impressive given brain damage is said to occur within minutes of cardiac arrest at normal body temperature.

Importantly though, the article doesn’t seem to mention any cases where an entire mammal has been successfully resurrected from cryo, much less multiple rounds of freeze-thaw cycles that Bucky had to go through. A lot of what it discusses in theory is on the basis of maximising the preservation of brain tissue, while sacrificing other organs to potential damage (I think the article said something along the lines of “in the future stem cell technology would take care of all those damaged organs!” which…isn’t going to help poor Buck out)

What I can’t find with my (very limited) reading is how the blood is stored after it is replaced. Presumably it is also cryopreserved separately? Because transfusing someone else’s blood into the subject’s body will cause huge issues. The other major difference between current data and Bucky’s situation is that current cryo methods are for the preservation of recently deceased bodies, while Bucky is still alive when he is placed into cryo.

So uh, assuming Bucky’s cryo is anything based in current real world science, he’s likely to have attachments for: heart monitoring and defibrillation, airway support and oxygen supply, large bore intravenous lines for rapid blood removal and replacement which would also help control the cooling/warming, some sort of real time monitoring of acid-base and electrolyte and oxygenation levels and replacement, and maybe some sort of EEG to monitor brainwaves. The blue glowing buttons are kiiiinda in the right place for heart monitor if we’re assuming a 3-lead system and the other one is hidden on his right side.

Keep in mind, this is not taking into account any magic effect the serum might have, ie maybe cryosuspension and revitalisation is only possible because of the serum, and maybe crystallisation isn’t an issue because of the serum.

And this is going to be TMI but I wonder what the effect of intestinal contents would be on cryo. Limiting his intestinal contents is partly the reason why I feel like Bucky likely didn’t have a lot of chance to eat real food, and likely got most of his nutrition as some sort of prescribed nutrition mix that would give him the energy hit he needs for the mission. Assuming that his gut will go into hibernation mode with cryo and probably won’t digest properly at least for a few days (much longer if he were a normal human), I suspect they’ll go for IV nutrition if they need him functional quickly. (* This won’t be one of his lines during cryo obviously cos he won’t need the support)

So yeah, all those fics about Bucky exploring oral textures and tastes of foods as a part of his recovery has a special place in my heart.

[mitigatedchaos]

Re: The 'Chillers' Discourse

(~1,200 words)

I've been asked to comment on the recent increase in the practice of parents placing their children into cryonic stasis in territories where this is legally allowed, which this emerging subculture are referring to as "pausing" the child.

The public-facing justification given is that this is essential when parents are suffering from severe physical or mental illness.

First, I'd like to address the health concerns. Cryonics as a field has advanced tremendously since the early 21st century. While opponents of this practice are horrified for moral reasons, they are blowing the potential health effects out of proportion. Several freeze-thaw cycles before age 18 is well within the acceptable limits laid out by most health authorities. Typical post-thawing symptoms are mostly nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and frequent urination, and clear within about two weeks. (This is assuming that it's a good-quality facility with competent staff. There are rumors of fly-by-night cryostorage facilities not rated for medical use engaged in the practice, but those are outside our jurisdiction.)

Second, I'm going to discuss why Orbital Operations & Planetary Security (OOPS!) are divesting our holdings of conventional murderers that were sent to lunar cryoprison by the pre-War government and shifting our focus primarily to a combination of wealthy patients and individuals convicted of crimes against humanity.

Placing someone in cryogenic suspension and then reviving them can cause acute and chronic psychological distress, as the period of time appears to pass 'instantly,' and while obviously they lose connection with current events, media, fashion trends, etc (and thus lose the context of society), they also lose connection with social contacts (who could help recontextualize). This condition, which we refer to informally as 'time shock,' is something we treat with an expensive reacclimatization period which covers the contents of the 'missing' time period and rebuilds social contacts with a pool of volunteers.

Without this therapy program, which is quite costly, a significant minority of subjects will request to go back into cryostasis, commit self-injury, or enter a prolonged period of depression. (It also accompanies a worsening of other mental health stats, including a risk of delusion. This is the 'cryo-psychosis' you've probably heard about.)

For children, this could seriously interfere with proper development. We therefore recommend that children are generally not placed into cryostasis, unless this is necessary for medical reasons, or the parent is also placed into cryostasis for some reason. (This is the official position of the OOPS cryonics branch.)

During the final phases of the war, our faction came into the possession of the previous government's unfilled mass cryoincarceration facilities. As part of strategic planning it was considered whether to use this capability to take a very large number of prisoners of war, and thus gain additional leverage during an ensuing occupation.

Due to both the practical and ethical ramifications, this decision was put to the central committee (composed of representatives of the biomechanoid officer corps) and guidance council (composed of representatives of the elders).

The real problem with cryoincarceration - and this also applies to 'chilling' children - is that it's cheap to keep prisoners on ice, but expensive to take them back out. This means that every year, the government (or parent) has the incentive to keep the prisoner on ice, and make paying to remove the prisoners the problem of the next government.

This was not a hypothetical at the time. This is how we came into the possession of so many conventional murderers and other prisoners to begin with. It was resolved to begin a 20-year drawdown, set to start at the end of the war.

Third, regarding the prisoners themselves...

There are a lot of theories on Earth about why we are getting rid of the prisoners. To go over some of these...

This is not a 'new form of warfare'. The prisoners are being delivered to prisons on Earth, not released into the general population.

If prisoners are being delivered to prisons in your territory, your government has agreed to take them. (Usually this means they were originally from your territory, unless they were previously from territory currently controlled by the World Union.)

In some cases, we may be paying your government to take the prisoners. In other cases, your government may be paying us.

None of the prisoners are from space. There is very little crime in space. (Due to the extremely contingent nature of life support, there is very little tolerance for crime in space.)

No prisoner released by this program has been deemed an "extreme escape risk."

Now, regarding the criminals we're either keeping or gathering (much smaller in number)...

Many of my colleagues have been happy to hint to outsiders that we are holding frozen criminals only until we can devise suitably awful punishments for their crimes. Many on Earth accept this without thinking about it due to our behavior during the war. While this might have some deterrent effect, this is not the reason.

Some on Earth believe we are keeping these prisoners to study them. They're apparently split on whether this is research to prevent future crimes, or to build even more terrifying human weapons. Some research is occurring, but I'm going to be honest with you - it's not very much. Most of these people are either so mundane that there's not much to learn, or so unique that nothing we learn about them usefully generalizes.

In this era, it's essentially impossible to entirely prevent a few people from going insane from ideology, or developing an ideological or psychological feedback loop with somatic capital, and exiting the normal human range of behavior (in a bad way).

However, having "defeated aging" (through somatic capital technology, even if deep rejuvenation inherently causes some pretty serious memory loss), people prefer the illusion of immortality.

When someone mounts their brain to a robotic scorpion and kills every woman in a sorority after dosing themselves with illegal neuroplasticity enhancers for over a decade, society demands that 'someone' "do something." (Even the biosocialists have this problem.)

So whenever the authorities manage to capture the perpetrator alive, they stick his brain in a rocket and blast it into outer space. "We're sending this terror to OOPS," they say, "the only group to ever successfully prosecute a sixth-generation war. Who knows what horrifying and incomprehensible things they will do to this horrible individual?"

It's about the best the non-religious ones can do.

The primary purpose of the cryoincarceration program is to preserve enough functional tissue samples of the cryoincarcerated for Earth-side governments to maintain their genomic ban on individuals convicted of crimes against humanity.

That's it. We don't plan on waking any of these people up.

Fourth, to bring it back to the 'chillers,' as their opponents have been calling them, I recently read a study out of Shanghai.

About 1,400 individuals with a child in cryonic storage for non-medical reasons were studied, and compared with 1,400 parents without children on ice as a comparison group. Hardship was only part of the study, but the researchers estimate that only about 20% of the individuals studied were experiencing hardships greater than the those typical in the comparison group.

I expect that over the next 10-20 years, laws will be changed to add more legal limits to the procedure in most (though not all) jurisdictions where it is currently legal.

[pancakeke]

I dig the look of these concrete block walls sooo much but the freeze/thaw cycle of my climate would crack one asunder :(

[sea-salted-wolverine]

I watched a handful of skateboarding tiktoks and I had the realization that the rest of the world just doesn't have frostheaves