#Industrial Hose Supplies

[allhoseandvalves]

Finding the Right Rubber Hose Suppliers for Your Industrial Hoses

Industrial hoses play an essential role in many industries, from manufacturing to agriculture, oil and gas, and more. These hoses are used for a wide range of applications, including conveying fluids and materials, transporting gases and chemicals, and providing ventilation and exhaust systems. When it comes to sourcing industrial hoses, finding the right rubber hose suppliers is crucial. Here are some tips to help you find the right supplier for your industrial hoses.

Quality Products The quality of industrial hoses can vary widely depending on the supplier, so it's important to look for suppliers who prioritize quality. A reputable rubber hose supplier should offer high-quality hoses that are durable, reliable, and designed for specific applications. Look for suppliers who use high-quality materials, such as synthetic rubber, and who perform rigorous testing on their products to ensure they meet industry standards.

Variety of Hoses Industrial hoses come in many different types, sizes, and materials, so it's important to find a supplier that offers a variety of hoses to meet your specific needs. Look for a supplier that offers a wide range of industrial hoses, such as chemical hoses, air hoses, water hoses, steam hoses, and more. This will ensure that you can find the right hose for your specific application.

Customization Options In some cases, you may need industrial hoses that are customized to meet specific requirements. Look for a supplier that offers customization options, such as custom lengths, end fittings, and colors. A supplier that can customize hoses to your exact specifications will help ensure that you get the right hose for your needs.

Excellent Customer Service When it comes to sourcing industrial hoses, it's essential to work with a supplier who offers excellent customer service. Look for a supplier who is responsive to your inquiries, offers fast delivery times, and provides reliable technical support. A supplier who is committed to customer satisfaction will help ensure that you have a positive experience with your industrial hose purchase.

Competitive Pricing Industrial hoses can be a significant investment, so it's important to find a supplier who offers competitive pricing. Look for a supplier that offers fair and transparent pricing on their industrial hoses. Be wary of suppliers who offer prices that seem too good to be true, as they may be cutting corners on quality to save costs.

Conclusion Sourcing industrial hoses from the right rubber hose suppliers is crucial to ensure that you get high-quality, reliable hoses that meet your specific needs. Look for suppliers that prioritize quality, offer a variety of hoses, provide customization options, offer excellent customer service, and offer competitive pricing. By taking these factors into consideration, you can find the right supplier for your industrial hose needs.

Source From: https://allhoseandvalves.wordpress.com/2023/06/06/finding-the-right-rubber-hose-suppliers-for-your-industrial-hoses/

[thejoaustralia]

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[stevebattle]

Firefighting Robot System (2017), by Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, Japan. These robots have a radiant heat-resistant structure, and autonomously move to locations that humans cannot approach to extinguish fires. The system comprises a Water Cannon robot and an accompanying Hose Extension robot. "They are expected to play an active role in situations where it is difficult for firefighters to approach, for example at fires in petrochemical facilities. The "Water Cannon Robot" can effectively extinguish fires where people cannot reach, while the "Hose Extension Robot" automatically lays out up to 300m of fire hose to supply water to the "Water Cannon Robot". These two models constitute the "Firefighting Robot System", which works in conjunction with reconnaissance robots and a command system. They are designed to be easily installed on a fire engine so they can be moved on-site." – MHI Develops Automatic Firefighting "Water Cannon Robot" and "Hose Extension Robot" Prototypes.

[cyanophore-fiction]

“Cold Burning”

An entire space station, 70,000 people, and all they had for fuel was tritium and helium-3. O/LETS-061 couldn’t fuse helium. It wanted to, desperately, but it would boil itself alive in its own coolant before it ever achieved reaction temperature. Of course, the station’s municipal reactor could fuse helium—assuming it would ever fuse anything again after having a hole punched in it by a meteorite.

All O/LETS had left of the deuterium it needed was a single canister, enough to keep vital systems running for a little over a day. After that, the cold would set in.

Floating in coolant inside its tungsten-shielded chamber, it turned the precious canister in its claws. Its black nanite visor reflected the bluish halo of Cherenkov radiation surrounding it, displaying a worried expression in purple light. Its integrated reactor jutted from its spine like a complicated cylindrical backpack, connected to pressure tubes snaking from the ceiling which ran water through the core. Megawatts of electricity poured from the thermoelectric dynamo at the base of its spine, coursing down through the conduit at the center of its enormous tail, and into the station’s power grid.

A heavy suit of industrial protective gear covered its body, adding layers of insulation and shielding to its already bulky frame. Beneath the suit, its gray fur had become matted and itchy from days spent in the coolant tank. O/LETS thought about food, the smell of shampoo and of rinsing its coat with warm, clean water, of the fleece sheets on its mattress back in its cabin, of sleeping with its head on a pillow and its reactor powered down. It needed rest, days of rest, to finally allow its aching body to begin repairing all the radiation damage it had accrued.

Not yet.

There were feed hoses neatly stowed on spools at the walls of the chamber, most drawing from the station’s reserves of helium-3 fuel. Under better circumstances, they would supply a much more robust emergency reactor.

One bundle of hoses was extended, connected to the reactor assembly on O/LETS’s back. It could feel tritium entering its body from the connection. The fuel tasted fresh, still mostly untouched by fission decay. Its brain ascribed a sweet, honey-like flavor to the substance, with a texture not unlike carbonation that indicated the presence of mild radiation. According to the supply monitor registering in the back of its mind, the station had enough to burn for at least two decades, but it wouldn’t help when the deuterium ran dry.

[Hey, Kindjal?] it transmitted, its electronic voice crackling with radiation interference.

A spirit’s voice answered. [I hear you, Ollie. How are you holding up?]

[Switching to final fuel reserve. I think I can make it last…30 hours, maybe.]

There was a pause. [That’s right. We did the calculations together, remember?]

Blinking, O/LETS bobbed its head up and down. [Right, yeah…yeah, we did. Sorry.]

[Don’t apologize. Are you okay?]

[Not really.]

[Getting medical on it right now. We’ll do whatever we can from here.]

[Thanks.]

[Repairs to the primary reactor are proceeding as planned. It’ll be tight, but we’ll get it back up. We’re in the home stretch.]

[…Kindjal, listen. Is there any way for me to reduce my power output? Temporarily. Can we ration? Anything?]

Kindjal hesitated. When it replied, its words were slow, chosen carefully. [Every spirit on the station is already surviving on the absolute minimum, myself included. The organics are getting cold, and the air recyclers are doing just enough to keep them from suffocating. Anything less and we’ll start losing people. I’m sorry.]

[Okay. Not a problem.]

[Thirty hours, Ollie. You can do it. Medical will be in touch.]

Slotting the canister’s attachment nozzle into a matching one on the reactor assembly, O/LETS stared at the floor. It clicked its claws together, tapping out slow, sporadic rhythms. [Okay,] it said, and fled from the physical world.

Diving into the station’s softspace, the pervasive ache filling its body became distant, as though it belonged to somebody else. O/LETS could perceive the vast areas of virtual space that it wasn’t powering represented as empty, colorless non-spaces which made it wince with discomfort. A few slender branches of light sprouted from its tail, radiating out across the system. Spirits were clustered inside them, drawing a little power for themselves and channeling the rest into nodes of light which might have been heaters, water filters, air recyclers. The branches were constantly changing shape and color as the spirits routed power, arcing between stars which sprang into existence at their touch and faded in their absence.

Thirty hours. It watched its tree and kept it alive, slipping between waking and sleep.

___

Thank you for reading! This one was for @flashfictionfridayofficial ‘s prompt, “A Form of Distraction.”

O/LETS-061 (Operations/Logistics Engineering and Technical Support, or ‘Outlets’, or ‘Ollie’) is a character that’s been around in my brain for quite some time, and I’ve come to love it/them a great deal. They’re a protogen, a furry species which has built-in lore, but I like to imagine O/LETS as existing without that lore attached—sometimes as a heavily-cyberized “uplifted animal” or as an entirely synthetic being. Over the years I’ve considered changing their species, but I do enjoy the protogen look, and it’s become a key part of how I visualize them.

Whatever the hell they are, they’re an engineering specialist, a sweetheart, and often something of a liaison between organics and AI, or ‘spirits.’ For either party, having access to a reliable source of electricity can be a matter of life or death, and O/LETS-061 is, among other things, a reliable source of electricity. It isn’t always the easiest thing to be.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Drew Sheneman, Newark Star-Ledger

* * * * *

Bill McKibben writes: 

A planet at 420 parts per million co2 is a different planet than one at 275 parts per million. If Captain Kirk was landing on it, the first thing his tricorder would register is the composition of the atmosphere; when you’re talking planets, it’s a pretty basic data point. 

So we don’t really know what surprises are in store—though that news that the Antarctic current was starting to slow like a hose with a crimp is fair warning.

I don’t say all this in the service of despair, but of preparation. We need to be psychologically prepared for the fact that, for all we’ve tried to do together, this crisis is about to worsen. Forewarned is, to some small extent, forearmed. I suppose some might need to prepare themselves individually too, though that’s not my focus (Alex Steffen, the futurist, has begun offering courses on ‘ruggedization,’ which links personal preparation to community resilience, and defintiely beats buying out-of-date MREs from your favorite rightwing podcaster).

But we really need to be prepared politically. Each of these surges in warming unleashed by the next El Nino comes with new political possibilities, as people see and feel more clearly our peril. At the moment, our climate politics, like our climate itself, is a little stalled. The surge of change that came from Greta’s school strikes, the Paris accords, the Green New Deal has waned; we’re in a new stalemate where the oil industry has learned to rely on delay instead of denial. It often takes them a few years, but eventually they get good at working the politics—for the moment, for instance, they’ve got their captive state treasurers locking banks and asset managers in place with the charged that worrying about the fiscal implications of the climate crisis represents ‘woke capitalism.’

As the next round of savage heatwaves proceeds, it will come with new pressure for action from our governments and corporations. We need to be able to channel that pressure effectively, with key goals in mind: the absolute end to new fossil fuel development and exploration, the quick weaning from existing supplies of coal and gas and oil and with it the equally rapid buildout of cleaner sources of energy, the unwavering support for the places and people hardest hit. 

There will be all sorts of emotions; I hope that the anger people will rightly feel is channeled toward the corporate and legal destruction of the companies that have lied for three decades and still represent the largest barrier to change.It’s just the right moment for Not Too Late, a new anthology compiled by two old friends who are also among the most stalwart leaders of the climate fight. 

Rebecca Solnit and Thelma Young-Latunatabua have managed something important: an alternative to doomism that isn’t sentimental or treacly, but absolutely serious. “Hope is not the guarantee that things will be okay,” 

Young-Lutunatabua says. “It’s the recognition that there’s spaciousness for action, that the future is uncertain, and in that uncertainty, we have space to step into and make the future we want.” I agree with that—with the caveat that the spaciousness doesn’t last forever. I have the strong instinct that this El Nino may be the last of these moments that the earth offers us in a time frame still relevant to making coherent and savvy civilization-scale change. We dare not misuse it.  

[Bill McKibbon]

[book-ish-ly]

Review: ★★★★★

This book left a pretty big mark on me, if I'm being honest. Whales have always felt like very poignant and inspiring creatures in my life, and after reading this, I got a tattoo of an orca whale. I think this book is very well written, dipping in and out of facts, thoughtful concepts, and little blurbs about the writer's life. This book really highlighted the vitality of context to me, something that I've been able to apply not only to other books I've read since, but just in my day to day. Nothing exists without the context it lives in.

Notes:

When a whale beaches, it develops hyperthermia as a result of the blubber layer and no heat dispersion through the water

Stranded whales that suffer too long may be euthanized by

Being blown up with dynamite (assuming targeting the brain/neural system)

“The green dream” euthanasia mixture

Being shot in the head (again targeting the brain and neural system)

When a whale beaches, bones that are the heaviest are on top of the whale and out of the water weight crushes their organs slowly 

In 2018, 150 pilot whales beached themselves and all but 6 died

In 2009, 80 pilot whales beached themselves, and most of them died even after attempted rescue

There was another beaching in 1996, but most were saved 

An old wives tale claims whales beach themselves in response to comets or meteorites (they may also beach in response to solar storms)

A sperm whale washed on shore in Spain with an entire greenhouse’s supply of materials in its stomach (hoses, tarps, pots, etc)

Most polluted animals in the world are the orcas of Puget Sound

Starfish in Puget Sound have a disease that causes their arms to leave/crawl away from their bodies

Whales are often more polluted than their surroundings because of their blubber and the fat solubility of a lot of toxins and pollutants

Some gray whales hunted for food in Russia stunk when carved for meat and the people who ate them became numb- likely from pollution

Whales can hold their breath for so long because the water’s pressure distributes the oxygen through the body by squeezing the respiratory system slowly and dispersing oxygen that way

When cached in blubber, the toxins remain inert. The only way they entered the bloodstream and majorly affected the whales was when they fasted (intentionally or not) (for example: when migrating)

Firstborn whales receive a hefty dose of the pollution their mother carries; subsequent calves receive decreasing amounts of the toxins

Seabirds’ bodies store the pollution in their feathers, to be molted off the body

“To fully comprehend the degree to which any environment was damaged, you needed to consider the ways in which it was damaging from the perspective of other species - from the sensorium of animals.” - seems to be referencing keystone species specifically?

Greenland Inuit women seasonally eat whale meat, but have been warned not to do so during pregnancy, and not to breastfeed their babies at all - “if her milk was in containers other than her breasts, she would not be allowed to take it over state lines.” - BBC Documentary

Inuit women live in the most isolated and least industrialized places on the planet and consuming the whales meant their bodies were still contaminated. Their levels were comparable to people living downstream from gold mines in China and South America. 

Whales represent hope, eco-friendliness in the West

“Apart from the visceral harm done to the animals themselves, their symbolism lay ransacked. A kind of hope was being polluted.”

Whalefalls were only discovered by the Navy in 1977, but today’s estimate of the number of active/current whalefalls at this moment is 690,000

“Did we owe whales greater distance or more intervention? And who was the ‘we’ in that sentence?” 

“We stand in the wake of something we cannot yet comprehend.”

Kodiak Island natives used darts dipped in monkshood flower root juice to poison whales (right whales)

Large groups of petroglyphs may have marked sites where luring of whales may have taken place

“The two smaller engravings that accompany the whale (the Ball’s Head Whale petroglyph)- the man, the horse-dog - were placed into and next to it during an era in which seaborne methods of disassembling whale bodies were established so that ships no longer needed to return to port to process their haul, and whaling could expand to become the first truly globalized extractive industry. The petroglyph was covered up; it was revealed; it was blighted by reflective road paint and cleaned. The Ball’s Head Whale lies now within the fence line of an “eco-living” initiative, behind a garden wall.” -strong irony in the additions white men made to a native petroglyph, strong irony in the “painting” of the glyph with road paint, strong irony in its current location within an “eco living” initiative. Strong irony all around.

“To impart a capacity for witness to the Ball’s Head whale, it has seen - though no eyes are etched into it - the largest cull of any animal order ever perpetuated by our kind.”

A whale’s plunge is called a “sounding”

The Inuit gutted, sewed, and inflated seal skins to attach to whales and keep them from diving - tiring them out and making them easier to hunt. 

Connecticut - bastardized version of Algonquin word “Quinnehtukqut” meaning “Beside a Long Tidal River”

“Whalers spoke of sperm whales traveling the oceans in veins, like gold.”

Sperm whales have a different, more valuable kind of fat stored in their heads called spermaceti. It’s a natural wax, reminiscent of solidified coconut cream.

Baleen “teeth” were tugged from its mouth and used for “sundries” - combs, corset boning, etc. They were generally referred to as “whalebone” (one word)

Baleen was also used for billy clubs and canes for classroom beatings - where the term “whaled on” originated from

Whale bones were used to make piano keys (musical in life, musical in death)

The everythingness of whales… but they’re also just animals…. Humanlike?

People would bathe inside dead whales to cure or ease fatigue, rheumatism - some evidence suggests that it works, but not in the way they thought

About the Ball Head whale - “posits the man may not be in the whale but riding it, surfing the immense animal to shore for a feast, at a time when Eora tribes had begun to starve.”

 Whale = hospital (bathers)

 Whale = hunger/reprieve

 Whale = hope

 In all- Whale = Renewal

 “When animals die out, the cultural and ecological relationships that furnish their existence can be experienced as a kind of nonstop haunting.”

Special blossom - pollinating bat - bat goes extinct - strange blossom seems foreign = becomes ghostly, haunting extinction residue

 Petroglyphs dilate perspective outwards - their relation to each other tells a story we’ve forgotten or never learned how to read - the destruction of other petroglyphs (Ex: the explosion of a sperm whale petroglyph for Sydney’s Harbor Bridge) fractures the storytelling, like ripping pages out of a book

1900-1999 3 million cetaceans were killed. Antarctic baleen whale biomass dropped an estimated 85%

In 1960, dead whales were worth $30,000 each ($260,000 in today’s money)

Lack of bowhead and sperm whales in the Bering Sea = more urchins = urchin barrens. A barren cannot really repopulate and renaturalize without human intervention. 

Whale poo brings lower nutrients up from feeding grounds, and whalefall brings higher nutrients down - feeding plankton, which remove CO2 from the atmosphere - very effective carbon sequestration

A century of whaling equates to bruning more than 70 million acres of forest

Increasing phytoplankton activity by 1% would be the same as 2 billion mature trees randomly spawning

“I had been troubled by the notion of whales as landfill; of cetacean bodies as, in some instances, a type of animate superfund site. But this research recasts whales as a means of re-naturalizing the air- not as the end point of atmospheric pollution, but as the mechanism of its remediation. Whales as gardeners in the greenhouse. I wanted to breathe in and believe it.”

Humpback whales are right or left handed

Krill have luminescent eyestalks and can be found in such large numbers they’re visible from the atmosphere

When krill starve, their bodies shrink but their eyes remain the same size

Female humpbacks mature between 5 and 7 years old, and then can bear a calf every 3 years. Gestation is 11 months.

When humpbacks are born, their fins and flukes are flexible, but they can swim, breathe, and surface. Their lips are firm, so it’s believed they “suckle” by wrapping their tongue in a cone around the nipple.

Whale milk is pink because of the krill diet. Babies drink around 100 gallons of it a day, and it’s ropy in texture and 50% fat. 

Humpbacks wean between 6-10 months and are independent at a year

Jellyfish were some of the first things to have “eyes”, and are only capable of seeing “light” and “dark”

Shrimp and prawns make a trilling eeeeeee sound

Migratory whales can be identified by their water spouts, which are determined by the shapes of their blowholes

Southern Right Whales - V shaped blows

Gray Whales - heart shaped blows

Humpback Whales - Spikes up to 10 ft high

 “We ache to meet the limit of the human world and look past it.” … the remoteness is a draw for environmental anxiety and a “distinct modern yearning” - the urge to feel minified

Pandas have done one good thing - WWF convinced China to stop whaling by offering a million dollar panda reserve- and it worked

Cetaceans were initially recorded during military “snooping”

Freud was originally a naturalist with “a passion for aquatic environments”

Lobtailing - when a whale splashes its fluke on the surface of the water

It is thought that when whales breach it is to remove annoying barnacles/lice/etc. Or to send a different, ultrasonic signal to other whales nearby. 

Breaching is not generally regarded as “playing” because of the amount of energy it takes to lift a whale out of the water (a lot)

Western Australia’s whales have rebounded up to (estimated) 90% of pre-whaling. East Australia is up to 65%. Several individual populations across the world are “critically endangered” or “at risk”. Australia’s are “of least concern”. 

We could be entirely wrong about pre-whaling levels

Beluga are getting toxoplasmosis from wastewater affected by cat feces

The humpback whale’s “peduncle” - the base of its tail, is the largest muscle on the planet

Heiliger Schauer - the holy shiver of prey sensing a predator’s gaze

“What goes unspoken in the supposed recognition of humans, by animals, are the bestial compulsions of humans” … “there comes a moment when looking at an animal triggers, in people, a recognition of all the familiar ways humans persist in being fauna. Our shared zoology gets released from the padlocked storehouse of the unconscious - and, in that instance, it’s scary.”

“Being, in essence, all flesh and raw instinct, stands to undermine human rationality, exceptionalism and the social and political lives of our communities. We are not drawn out into the world as we might have expected; we dive back into ourselves, trembling.”

Meaning: humans are only animals, and we struggle with that fact, emotionally. 

Blue whales can form rainbows when they exhale as a result of how high the exhale reaches

When blue whales spy-hop, the difference in pressure between their nose and fluke can be 3 atmospheres

Blue whale hearts beat 8x a minute (ours beats 80x a minute), and can be heard 2 miles away underwater (in good conditions)

Antarctic blue whale numbers decreased 99.85% between 1905 and 1973. From 200,000 individuals to 300. In 1 year more individuals were killed than currently exist (only 2,000)

Whales needed to become large to migrate large distances (storing large amounts of fat, having lots of propulsion muscles)

Blue whales have low malignant tumor rates despite having a shit-ton of cells - possible suppressor genes

Whales in Inuit histories are fingers of the goddess Adlivun, who ruled the Inuit underworld. Her father cut off her fingers as she clung to a boat, and her fingers became whales, and her thumb a walrus.

Animal taxidermy, naming, museums can be considered residues of power - of colonizing and Eurocentricity (not sure how I feel about this yet)

Bowhead whales have been recorded living up to 211 years, Blue whales up to 110

Taxidermy as love or as colonization? Or both or neither? What does it mean to individuals? Ownership or connection?

“Historic time overlaps with geologic time the way a whale louse overlaps with the blue whale it infests.”

“Love equals making space around the loved one.”

As infants, we (humans) gravitate towards living things more than objects

Look into: Leslie Silko

“What we know about animals is an index of our power, and thus an index of what separates us from them. The more we know, the further away they are.”

Having a diversity of populations of animals might be equally or more important than just having lots of one population. Does it matter that West Australian humpbacks are surviving if theirs is the only population and culture that does? Would it matter if every culture but Western culture was wiped out, even if humans survived? 

“Hence a zoo, by its derivation, is not a collection of animals, but a number of ways to be alive.”

The psychological health of an animal is difficult to quantify until its psychological health “breaks” in a way that we can recognize

“If we go to nature to settle our minds, it should come as no surprise that taking an animal out of nature unsettles theirs.”

“Trained behaviors are often described as expressions of happiness” but the whale is supposed to respond to a whistle or command and modern society/capitalistic/materialistic things and humans can be described in the same way

“Over generations, captive whale culture may develop such cloistered protocols, whispered dialects, and refined diets that it is no longer meaningful to talk of those whales as interchangeable with wild ones. They belong now, to the ecotype ‘amusement’.”

We have 6 million cones and 120 million rods. Whales have only one or two of each. 

Whale focal points are barely a few feet in the distance - they only have 20/240 vision - what we can see at 240ft, they can only see at 20ft. 

Whales rarely blink except to clear their eyes of debris - moisturization occurs as a result of a gland under the whales eyelid

Sperm whales can partially retract their eyeballs into their skulls - like an anemone and its arms

Whales only dream with half of their brains at once - like sharks sleeping with half of their brain at once. REM sleep is rare in whales - pilot whales get 6 minutes every 24 hours. 

Northern Right Whales and Bowheads are nearly blind close to the surface - they have no photoreceptors, so their vision is opposite ours (like vision of nocturnal animals)

Whales have 2 pupils when constricted

Whale songs can be heard by whales thousands of miles away, depending on the song and “quality” of water

SOFAR- sound fixing and ranging - a layer of ocean water (“as vinegar underlines olive oil”) where temperature, pressure, and salinity refract sound waves beyond their normal underwater range. This is the best layer for whales to communicate in

Sperm whale clicks last only seconds, but are the loudest single source noise on earth

Songs against wood whaling ships created siren-like noises, leading to mermaid and siren mythos

Calling something a song means there is emotion inside the singer; a song isn’t a biological necessity. Being capable of song means you are capable of having a voice. 

The meaning of a word being placed on its location, sound, or volume, is often referred to as a poem… The communication of whales may rely on the poetry of their sound. 

 “Every animal is in the world like water in water.”

Beluga whale being trained as a spy learned to mimic human sounds - his name was Noc

Whales pick up bits of songs from other whales and sing those to new whales. Humpbacks participate in the largest non-human communication network on earth.

Solar storms causes aurora borealis, and can fuck with magnetic “mountains” underwater. This fucks with the whales’ echolocation, wayfinding, and song. Whale stranding often happens after solar storms.

In our culture, we avoid eating animals whose qualities are too impressive (cunning, intelligence, virility, etc.), but in some cultures it is the opposite; it may make them more consumable

Whale meat is, technically, less environmentally damaging than beef

You can tell the exact age of a whale from its ear wax buildup, like growth rings on a tree. This is also true for determining its exposure to pollutants and periods of physical stress. Unfortunately, like growth rings on a tree, this requires killing the whale. 

Whale meat was only removed from Amazon in 2014

Anthropomorphization may have evolved in humans to make them better hunters- or, perhaps, as a social species we always had it and it just made us better hunters

“Grasshopper effect” allows pollutant chemicals to enter the ice caps via evaporation and condensation in the water cycle

Horse latitudes - regions in the ocean where little rain occurs, and settlers were said to have thrown their horses overboard to conserve fresh water

86% of ocean megaplastics in the Pacific Ocean Garbage Patch were nets

Fishing nets entrap and scar up N. Atlantic right whales, so their black skin has petroglyphs of white scarring

Baiji - first known cetacean to be killed off from human activity

Neozoons - new animals created through hybridizations of animals (narlugas, pizzlies, wolfin)

Post WWII “orgy of the ornament” - really a testament to how much unnecessary has been created, to a planetary detriment

Plastic used to mean modern and long lasting… now it’s sort of the opposite - disposable, toxic, garbage

“What’s the use of having developed a science well enough to make predictions if, in the end, all we’re willing to do is stand around and wait for them to come true?”

“The Birds” by Alfred Hitchcock was inspired by seagulls with pseudo-nitzschia intoxication in California

 “A whale is a wonder not because it is the world’s biggest animal, but because it augments our moral capacity. A whale shows it is possible to care for that which lies out of our immediate sphere of action, but within our sphere of influence - we care deeply, you and I, about the whale because it is distant. Because it speaks to us of places we will not go. Because it magnifies the reach of our humanity, and reminds us of our collective ability to control ourselves, and of our part in a planetary ecology. Because a whale is a reserve of awe and humility”...”being hopeful follows from being useful; this has been my experience, and to be useful, it matters that you identify a part of the problem that you might see change in, using the talents and resources you possess. Hope is fellowship. Hope is in the doing. We may be the only species capable of imagining a future robbed of the wonder of encountering other species. This knowledge, in the end, gives us cause to start.”

Most powerful bite of all time belongs to the basilosaurus 

Nature as a process. Not a group of entities… or both? The process of being an entity and what comes with it

Final Thoughts: to be alive is everything and nothing. It is to hope and despair. It is to sit in the passage of time, which is its own beast. We will live and die and most of it will mean nothing beyond the context of what we existed in -> and what we want that to look like and what is out of our control. And whales are a symbol for all of this. They are hope and despair, and they are passengers in the passage of time but also the vessel through which time passes. They are both active and passive participants in this passage.

[cthulhubert]

A brief tale of adventures in repair and stupid coincidences

So last weekend our dishwasher stopped cleaning stuff well, especially stuff on the top rack. It was also making a really obnoxious groaning/buzzing noise when run. We were contemplating the miserable cost of having to replace the whole thing, but we've also taken it apart and put it back together before, so why not at least give it a try.

And I won't deny that there's a deep satisfaction to feeling handy.

So we dismantle it. As I said, done before, but this time I'm really pulling the thing's guts out, the full sump motor assembly. Side note: the bits of stuff stuck in the drain pipe were beyond nasty. There was a lot of other gross stuff crammed into various recesses and encrusting screens, but that was the stuff that really smelled, I assume it was bits of rancid fat.

Well, the housings are fine, the impeller's fine, the motor shaft spins freely, without noise, and there's no play in it. I'd read once that buzzing from a motor could be a capacitor problem, so we take the fat 23.5μF thing off, and take it to an appliance repair shop, they obviously have a tester and tell us it's just fine. (Note to self, get a multi-meter that isn't from the bargain bin.)

Side note 2, small vicissitudes of life: taking the washing machine out meant disconnecting the hot water supply and the drain hose, which go to the hot water line and drain for the sink. A: turns out, if we take out the T-junction for the hot water line, the line to the faucet is no longer long enough. B: we happened to have a cap for the T-junction to the drain. But putting the mess back together we broke one of the nuts, and it leaked copiously. Cue a day of not being able to use the kitchen sink before we could make it to the hardware store for a replacement drain nut and a cap for the hot water t-junction. (We also got a flexible supply line for the dishwasher, because getting around the rigid copper line was the most frustrating part of working on the thing.)

So we're left with the decision making math. A new sump motor assembly is, shockingly, "only" 160$. (Also incredible is that they still make and sell this same assembly from our 20 year old dishwasher. I guess in some industries if it ain't broke they don't fix it.) A new dishwasher of comparable performance is around 600$. Obviously if the new assembly works, that's a huge savings. If it doesn't though, it's a fair amount of money almost literally down the drain.

We decide to reassemble the dishwasher and see if we've cleaned something or jogged something back into place and it will work better now. I'm halfway done and notice an extra part, a flat washer. In a device that mixes water and electricity, washers are exactly the sort of thing I wanna make sure are right. Nothing else jumped out at me so I hit up the web to figure out where it goes (shout out to Parts Select for hosting diagrams and copious pictures!). As I do so, something catches my eye.

(Can you spot the difference?)

The mangler (aka chopper assembly) covers the intake from the sump (where dirty water and food particles accumulate) to the main spray pump. Thus, if the mangler is no longer mangling, that screen is going to be clogged (and it was, with a mat of weird fibrous stuff). And if the intake is clogged, the pump is going to have a much harder job. I can only imagine I threw out the broken blades with the little pile of gunk and hard bits that had accumulated there under the plastic shield (there looked to be bits of pasta and beans in there).

A new mangler is 14$ and two day shipping. And I might've spent 160$ on a new sump+motor assembly (which includes a mangler) if I hadn't noticed. And while it's obvious and glaring now, I can't say for sure I would've spotted it if I hadn't gone looking for a spare washer's home. (Which was the spray arm assembly, by the way.)

I'll update this if it doesn't work, but otherwise, you must imagine cthulhubert happy (with their clean dishes).

[gubbymcyt]

I love imagining c!scar having the most bat shit insane (/pos) wheelchair that has everything he'll need; especially when it's on theme. Like, s8 typhoon scar with some user-controlled, rubber-hose esque, robotic arms that come out of nowhere, fitted with those white gloves.

In more industrial themes his elytra appears as jetpacks. the wheels resemble tank tyres, or they're able to transform into walker/climber robo legs for more difficult terrain.

With nature and magic themes, he has an oxygen supply coming from some kind of plant or crystal hooked to the back of the chair.

Dope. Having like, magical world equivalent of modern-day frequently used stuff is so fun to develop.

[staticl0ve]

The Pig and the Fox - Ch. 6 - Connor/AFAB!Reader

Pairings: Connor/AFAB!Reader (no pronouns used) Rating: Mature/Explicit/NSFW 18+ Link (AO3): Read it Here Chapters: [ Ch. 1 ] [ Ch. 2 ] [ Ch. 3 * ] [ Ch. 4 ] [ Ch. 5 * ] [ Chap 6 ] / 6 Words: 7.4k Warnings: mild violence, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected PnV sex, implied drug use (supporting character), so much swearing, reader does wear feminine attire Summary: When a thief meets a cop, they’re on the opposite sides of the law, two flips of a coin. However, there’s more to life than things being black and white. In a post android revolution, not much has changed for the common citizen. The rich get richer and the poor, well, they work. They adapt. They sacrifice. You straddled that fine line, one toe in the light and one in the dark. So does Connor, but you don’t quite see that yet.

Chapter Six - Change *

People talked about change with suspicion and fear. Optimism was becoming rarer as the world began to unravel. For better or worse, change was inevitable.

In the 1990s, a Dot-com bubble burst and suddenly, technology wasn’t the profitable and bright future advertisers promised it would be. Highways normally packed had cleared out, houses were selling left and right as workers began fleeing the collapsing market. As expected, this was the nature of booms to come and go. Like with the dawn of the industrial era, the invention of trains, there would always be something new and better. Once again, a match was lit and then came the birth of the computer phone and the peak of social media.

Change was never in short supply. The climate was warming extremely in places, cooling too much in others. A younger generation listened to their seniors bemoaning about how evening skies used to be filled with insects or dreamy recollections of windshields that had to be hosed off after road trips. The signs were all there. In Florida, a condominium collapsed into a beach and on the fog covered coast of California, a woman woke to half of her bedroom fallen into the Pacific Ocean. There it was again, that funny little feeling. Bees were dying off, tornadoes tearing across cities, and whole species vanishing. Things were never going to be the same and after the android revolution, the question many asked was: what’s next?

Perhaps, some thought, the machines would save us all. Dust bowl fields began bouncing back thanks to the tender love and care of robot bees. It was the beginning of the scales tipping back and away from a perilous edge.

As for Connor, he wanted to believe he remained the man who caught Hank’s arm and pulled him up from the ledge of a building. Not quite a hero, but a good person. Good in that he was forgiving, willing to offer coffee to a man like Gavin Reed, who’d rather punch his “pretty plastic face in,” as the man had once said. The android was kind and considerate, always mindful of his impact on others. He tipped his dry cleaners, helped the elderly cross the road and gave endless amounts of scritches to a very needy Saint Bernard.

Connor was a good man.

… Although.

He preferred not to dwell on what was or that there was ever a part of him which was beyond his control. He feared he was still the hunter whose lightning reflexes added a bullet square in the head of a deviant whose only wish was to survive. A deviant whose back was turned as he ran from Connor’s aggressive line of questioning.

You’re going to be switched off. We’re going to search your memory and tear you apart piece by piece for analysis.

You’re going to be destroyed. Do you hear me?

Destroyed.

It wasn’t him. He had no agency then. But if that wasn’t him and if he had left his deviant hunting in the past, then why was it so easy slipping back into old ways?

Deviancy did not cure him of an old itch that gnawed at his processes. They built the RK800 to hunt and deep down, Connor knew that was why he enjoyed the work he did. Every chase that led him through narrow alleys and climbing over rickety structures helped satisfy the dormant parts of his code. It wasn’t quite the same as the mindless joy once obtained from a certain Zen garden.

But tonight, he was dangerously close to flirting with a temptation he thought he left behind. Fragments of preconstructions innocently offered him much deadlier, quicker options as he parsed through security footage, counting the number of guards. His wires buzzed, coursing full of electricity and heat. Amber light colored his cheeks and Connor resisted.

Fifteen minutes.

He gave you exactly the full duration before he made his move. A man stepped out of a side door, bright light reflecting off of watery pools by the entrance, disappearing as the door slammed. The newcomers’ nose dipped into the white glow of his phone, accompanied by a puff of haze from a vape. It took seconds for Connor to slide from the shadows and render him unconscious. Cuffs clicked together as he twisted the man’s arms around his back.

No excessive use of force. That was what Connor promised himself as the edges of a gold badge dug into his hip. He was here to uphold the law and deescalate.

The side door opened quietly into the front entrance and the main guard, expecting his friend, reacted to Connor’s appearance with a noise of surprise.

“Mother fucker!” the guard cried out.

Concerned the commotion would alert others, Connor dove towards the large man. They wrestled, knocking into racks full of day old bread, rubber wheels squealing as they slid around the polished cement floor, stopping once they hit a display case. Connor kept a palm over the guard’s face, his lean torso draped around the back of the man, muffling their fight. The guard spun the android around, slammed him into the front door but Connor did not relent, fitting the man’s neck into the groove of his forearm and biceps. He clamped down, squeezing the air out of the guard until he finally went slack on the floor. Alarmed he had gone too far, a sigh of relief left Connor as his fingers found a pulse.

A close call. He would not allow himself to be so careless again. As he made his way past display cases and further into the building, his audio sensors worked overtime to pick up stray sounds. A hush fell. The store room nearby had cleared out, footsteps fading towards a much louder confrontation further in the warehouse. Sluggish foot falls, like someone was dragging their feet, had Connor back on alert. A shadow stretched in from the open doorway, slowly growing in size.

“Leo,” he breathed out as the brunette hobbled into view. “Leo Manfred.”

“Who—” Leo began, making motions to step back from where he came from. “Who are you?”

“My name is Connor. I’m with the DPD,” Connor explained, one palm flat and raised while the other held out a gold badge.

Leo gave him a look of disbelief, wincing as his bruised eyebrow rose.

“No way.”

“I’m here with Fox. I know about the wire deal with Gavin.”

“Yeah? Well, he fucked up the pickup and got me in this mess.”

Connor hummed, smiling back at the other man. In better circumstances, with more time, he’d have made a joke about Gavin’s incompetence but erred on being straightforward.

“You have my reassurance that you are in good hands. My partner, Lieutenant Anderson, is just outside.” He spoke slowly and clearly, head nodding along with Leo’s. A silent “okay.”

Connor escorted him out the front door, inviting a blast of cool air and windswept rain into the warehouse. A car rolled in across the street, its headlights off and that was the cue Connor needed to loop the outside camera footage.

Leo gave him a worried glance as he stepped halfway out into the rain. “You gotta get Fox outta here.”

“I will,” the android promised.

As soon as Hank opened his car for Leo, Connor ran.

The kitchens weren’t nearly as empty as the storage rooms. A worker was in the middle of filling boxes with bags labeled flour. Connor acted quickly, reaching out to tug the worker away from their duties. But they didn’t wish to go down without a fight as they maneuvered a switchblade open and tried to slash at his face, his chest. One more stab attempt and their wrist crumbled like foil in his grasp. Now, with his forearm bent around their neck, Connor had to squash the urge to use the full brunt of his android strength on fragile bones. Spines were funny things, surrounded by intricate layers of nerves, supporting and balancing a body’s weight and they were so, so incredibly easy to break.

Too caught up in his moral dilemma, he nearly missed your voice calling to him.

A terrified and desperate cry that rang between his ears.

“Connor!”

You said it through your connection, but he heard it as if he was there. The worker thrashed in his arms and he heard your muffled cry of pain from rooms away. As soon as your vitals cascaded down his sight, planes of red crept from the edges of his eyes. Words like “deescalate” and “stick to the mission” flickered on by. On any other day, this sea of crimson would have been alarming, but Connor knew that if he glanced around, the wall was only a voice, a string of his own internal monologue and morals keeping his more… brutal tendencies at bay. Another scream, yours, followed by a dull thud and heavy rattling—the kind a body would make when meeting a hard surface.

The android was almost certain the neck in his arm was no longer whole, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance; the source of your voice. He didn’t even notice the body falling at his feet or recall stepping over it. Familiar, old processes clicked into place as brown eyes dimmed to a piercing black with thin, spinning red rings in place of irises. He felt himself fall into the background, turning off social modules to favor faster reflexes and better scan times.

Shoulders taut, spine straight, his long limbs carried him through the kitchens and into the smoky air of the warehouse. As his shoes made their first click on the floor, the room descended into darkness and he stalked forward, easily following his preconstructions. As a deviant, he had become tame and docile after the revolution, always seeking the pacifist route. And yet, with how he stepped into the darkness, ready to do whatever was necessary to guarantee your safety, he nearly felt the weight of a blue band around his arm.

It was easy finding his targets as they fumbled in the dark. There was a hammer, abandoned on a crate, its hefty handle barely registering on his sensors. It was easy lifting it and even easier moving his forearm until the blunt end met a guard’s face. A hideous shriek filled his sensors and hot liquid gushed, splattering across pale cheekbones. Connor was vaguely aware of what he may have looked like, a shadow, a blur of an LED closing in on a target and the dull, blank stare of a machine.

The humans, cybernetics or not, moved sluggishly to him. Their aim wasn’t terrible, but he could predict their movements and was long gone before their fingers pressed a trigger. Bullets tore apart crates, spraying bits of wood everywhere and causing panic to spread. There was a flash of white from a gun, blinding almost, followed by a gurgled cry mixed with wet, crunching sounds. Friendly fire. The initial quiet had broken into shouts from varying directions, when suddenly, a woman’s voice cut through the chaos in a stern tone.

“Move and I shoot,” Georgia threatened.

The RK800 fixed his gaze on the origin of the command, followed the gun from her hand to your head as you kneeled on the ground. A few of the brutes managed to tag team against Connor in the dark, their eyes gleaming red, irises spinning as their night vision processed his location. One fist met the core of his chassis, flooding his HUD with errors as a different set of arms attempted to wrangle him. In the commotion, a bullet managed to pierce his shoulder, but Connor was unfazed.

He was busy tracking the trigger attached to the pistol by your head. Georgia tightened her grip, her hand steady and eyes narrowed. She was an experienced drug lord and had seen her share of bloodshed. This was a typical weeknight for her.

“You’ve made quite the mess of my operation,” she scolded Connor like he was a schoolboy. “If you want this vermin to live, bring your hands up. Now.”

He sent you a preconstruction of his schemes, and you hardly had time to piece together what he was trying to show you. The clock was ticking. Dire circumstances had a strange way of making people honest. How’d that saying go? Something about only doing something if someone put a gun to your head?

“I trust you,” you shared, watching his LED spin at your reply.

Then all hell broke loose. Starting with the person at his front. Connor knocked his face into him, crunching soft cartilage as blood gushed down from the man’s broken nose. Reaching for his pistol, the RK800 only needed a twist of his wrist to empty a few rounds into the man. He spared no other thought for the person behind him, their arms now wrapped around his neck, pulling and twisting. Connor brought his gun to his lower abdomen, shooting straight through a lesser bio-component.

He had seconds left.

His arm whipped back around, barrel lined up to his assailant’s face, and with a last bang, he brought the lights back up.

At the sight of a manic machine, gray blazer and white dress shirt soaked purple in some spots and distinctly red and blue in others, the rest of the less brave suppliers made a run for the kitchens. All but Georgia, whose face was caught in a scowl, arm still raised, keeping you in her crosshairs.

“Back up. Slowly,” she demanded, tone even and controlled.

The situation was near laughable to the machine. A gun of his own was already in his hands, and he knew with absolute certainty that he could kill her before her next breath. Some twisted lines of code whispered to him, offering him a much more satisfactory ending, one which allowed him to draw out her misery and dole out a twisted idea of justice. His resolve was gone, and nothing was left to keep the real monster at bay as his LED blinked obediently.

A flash and another loud bang nearby had you flinching. Blood hit your cheeks and Georgia immediately fell to one knee as a bullet shot straight through the bone. She screamed, crumpling, the gun slipping out of her hands and clattering far out of reach.

Connor stalked towards her, rain and blood streaked dress shoes leaving crimson footprints in his wake. His hair was messy, wet and dripping, eyes wild, but his movements were precise. Soles clicked on the cement, falling into a slow, steady rhythm like he was treating each step as a note to a finale.

Your folded over body straightened and you let out a pained moan, wincing as you tried to stand back up. The drug lord was on her knees, half pleading, half sobbing while clutching her wounds. Her long, drawn out pleads made your skin crawl.

“Now wait just one minute.” She gestured, a bloodied finger pointing at a bag on the table. “I… I can m-make you a rich man. Take the bag, take your friend and go.”

Nothing stayed the same. Not you. Not Connor.

“N-no—” she cried out, voice fading.

Android hands wrapped around her throat, pulling her slightly off the ground. Connor’s eyes had glazed over and something stirred from within your chest. Look, one less drug operation was perfectly alright in your eyes, but seeing his hardened stare, the detachment he had as his head dipped to observe her last gasps—this wasn’t like Connor.

And what did you really know about the former deviant hunter?

Who were you to stop him from doing what you would have done? You arrived ready to slit throats to ensure Leo’s safe departure, while Connor was prepared for a dramatic arrest with no casualties. But you had seen into his dreams, seen his fear of frost, of an unfeeling machine taking over. Because beneath the honeyed smiles and his softness, he knew that regardless of all the good he did; the machine had never left.

In a place devoid of physics, deep in the mind’s eye, a coin flipped and landed on its side.

You hadn’t always done good things, but you weren’t a bad person. Hell, Georgia was the last thing on your mind as your mouth opened. This was for the stupid, sweet faced RK800 who chased you with a wild grin and rain drenched hair.

“Really?” you mused, laughing despite the dire circumstances. The airy sound was enough to draw Connor’s attention, although his grip did not loosen. “Turning off all the lights… where’d you steal that idea from?”

Blackened eyes blinked back at you, watched you move in between him and Georgia. At your sudden closeness, his indicator switched from a steady blue to an alarming red. Ignoring her sputtering, your fingers pushed and tugged to slot between his, attempting to make some space between the woman’s neck and your hand. You spoke to him once again, but this time, through an interface.

Old warehouse surroundings tiled away, flipping into the confines of a taxicab. There was the scent of car freshener, crisp and clean, and he caught the faint scent of your perfume. Tires rumbled over asphalt, occasionally finding a bump on the road. Gentle tunes had soothed you into a deep sleep, your head swaying to and fro. Connor was watching the city drift by when a warm weight sunk onto his chest. You were leaning over from your seat, cheek pressed against his shirt and arm slung over his lap as if you were seeking his hand. At the slight rise and fall of the vehicle, you readjusted, fingers meeting their target as your hand loosely intertwined with his.

He thought to move you, knowing he’d suffer the possible consequences of your wrath should you wake to such a compromising position. But when he tried to rearrange himself, you latched on tighter, burrowing and nuzzling against his chassis. So he let it go, watched the city cast its reflections on your peacefully slumbering face.

What you didn’t know, or may have realized when you were too busy wrinkling your nose at him, was that Connor did not share your disdain. Admittedly, he was curious about your end goals, why you did what you did when you could have enjoyed a simpler life.

The car slowed, stopping at a red light. That was when he saw it. Outside the taxi, night had shifted into day and he knew he was no longer in his memory of the taxi ride. Tall trees lined the walkways of a local cemetery, their leaves rustling with the breeze. Spaced out evenly across fields of green were shiny slabs of stone. Through the slats of a low black gate, he saw a crowd of people standing around a fresh mound of dirt with their heads dipped mournfully low. One person looked up, head turning towards the street and he recognized your face in the crowd.

“My best friend’s funeral,” you spoke from beside him, weight shifting in the car, almost startling him. “Red ice came for many of the people I knew, but… I wasn’t ready for it to feel so… personal.”

You had changed, no longer the same person napping in a taxicab. This version of you was different, a little younger, cheeks fuller, with reddened eyes and tears staining your cheeks, draped in all black, with flowers on your lap.

He couldn’t speak, lips parting, social modules turning up blank. Instead, he furrowed his brows and squeezed your fingers in his. Your lips parted, inhaling once before speaking.

“When the job markets tanked, it hit everyone differently. If you couldn’t code or work on biotech, you got left behind and… I was so wrapped up in not drowning, too focused on surviving… I failed to notice the suffering closest to me. I know stealing and moving money into nonprofits isn’t the right way to solve anyone’s problems. But I think—no, I know my best friend would be proud,” you continued, pulling out a small paper fox cutout from the bouquet. A smile broke across your face, cheeks warming at a memory he couldn’t see. “Our parents used to say we were as problematic as a pair of foxes, always finding trouble and getting into more just to bail the other out.”

You let out a short laugh, one that sounded more like an exhale and a sigh.

“I got really frustrated when protests and signs weren’t enough to fix things. I saw an opportunity to make things even and I don’t care that it makes me a thief.” Your fingers traced gently on the outlines of the petals in your lap. “Do what feels right to you. Bring Georgia in, have her rot in prison or don’t. She’s not special. There will be more to replace her, but your choice will change you.”

Connor weighed his options, saw a fuller picture of inky black mixing with white. He was coming back into himself, along with the feel of Georgia’s weakening pulse and his rage fading with it. The blaring red on his LED finally flickered once, twice, settling back into a cool blue.

The scenery around the vehicle slipped away, people and long stretches of grass emptying back into a drab warehouse with bodies littered around him. He saw you first, face half covered by a broken mask, lips bleeding, mouth open from panting and felt your hand next, pulling him away from the woman’s neck. His fingers buzzed with electricity, plastic white and glowing, intertwined with yours which glowed right back.

“What’s next?” you asked.

“We bring her in,” he answered, brown eyes melting into yours, warm and sweet again.

The wrap up of tonight’s ordeal took ages. They brought in ambulances and called Captain Fowler, which resulted in him howling about the paperwork. He relented once he heard about having Georgia in cuffs. Hank, after delivering Leo into the hands of capable medical staff, came back to check on Connor and his eyes widened as he strolled past body bags.

“Jesus. You okay, kid?”

Hank looked older, tired, and maybe that was just due to the weather, but Connor knew he was watching him carefully, studying the light show on his temple. Hank’s blue eyes appraised Connor’s injuries which had been roughly tended to by a tech medic. Patches of matte plastic filled the gaps where bullet holes were, taking their sweet time to conform to the rest of his android skin and the thirium on his clothes had faded, leaving the android covered in dark, crusted red stains. His jacket was garbage and tossed into an evidence bag.

It wasn’t possible for machines to appear tired, not in the same way that humans did with dark rings around their eyes or sunken features. Connor’s shoulders slumped, his head dipped and hanging forward like he was going to fall face flat. One could conclude he had seen some shit and was very over this evening.

Their eyes met for a second and a softness in Connor’s brown eyes put the older gentleman at ease.

“I am. Thank you Hank.”

He didn’t believe the android, but quirked a smile back at him. His head craned, pointing in the direction of his car.

“You need a ride home?”

Connor shook his head, eyes following you as you walked past open loading gates and towards a motorbike. He bid Hank a good night and jogged to catch up to you.

It was like you were already expecting him, hand held out to offer the front seat of the bike. He could tell from the way you were looking at him that you weren’t certain this was a good idea. There was an invisible line drawn between you. Not quite enemies, not quite lovers standing inches from each other.

As the corner of his lips tugged, so did yours. After everything that happened, maybe it didn’t matter what you two were anymore.

“Are you certain you’d trust a pig on a motorbike?” he challenged.

Do you want me?

Your cheeks swelled from an even toothier grin and he wanted to nip the soft flesh.

“That’s not just any motorbike, it’s my motorbike.”

Yes.

—

The ride was tense, in all the sweetest, heated ways. There was a stickiness to death, to darkness and worry that was best soothed by wandering hands and sharp pinches of teeth on soft skin. The rain turned Connor’s shirt translucent, his freckles and moles easily peeking through sheer material.

Wind chill bit at your hands and you dug your chin closer to him, pressed your body more snuggly to his and felt him chuckle in reply. Connor was, without a doubt, handsome even from the back. For every engine rev, lane change and turn, his shoulder blades flexed, toned muscles dancing beneath wet cotton. He didn’t help matters as he glanced back once with a reassuring smile, brown eyes darkening when he caught you staring. A pink tongue wetted his lips and his smile grew.

Your revenge came in the form of light touches. You raked your nails down his chest, face pressed to his back as he guided the bike through slippery roads. Your fingers traveled lower, tracing the shape of strong muscles down to the cool button at the front of his slacks. Fanning your fingers, you made a claw and dug at the loose material, the pads of your fingers grazing over a hardening shape beneath. He sucked in a breath he didn’t need, stomach rising and pulling at the drenched shirt. His hand gripped your wrist and pushed you into him as he rolled his hips, pressing his bulge into your palm.

“Your place or my place?” you asked, breath fanning down the back of his neck.

“Mine.”

It sounded a little like a declaration, and not just an answer.

You were a bit curious about his home, wondered if it would appear the same as it had in your dreams, but you found that as he brought you through the door, there would be little time to observe. His nails dug into your hips, gripping and pulling. Your lips met in a frenzy, tongues lapping filthy stripes across teeth. You captured his tongue between your lips, suckling it demonstratively and it made him whine in your arms. Limbs clattered together, messily like you were both fighting over who could lead this dance. Fingers ran over shirt buttons, ripping apart zippers, dripping water everywhere.

His touch roamed from a hand on your face, down your chest where Connor circled a nipple with this thumb. You felt him stop at your waist, a heavy palm keeping you from slipping away. Your nose met his, your lips hovering in an almost kiss. It was one thing to feel Connor within the blurry confines of a dream and another to experience the intensity of his want, let alone your wants in person.

You claimed his lips again, tasting rain and autumn. The tension in the room was similar to the air before a storm. It looked like that outside; the skies darkened with swirling clouds and cracking with light. You chased after that spark, hands weaving together behind his neck, fingers splaying over brown locks. Every breath you took, he consumed, lips parted, eager and heavy on yours. Each flick of your tongue was a fight and Connor could sense a victory as the curl of his lips tugged at yours, teeth catching your lips as you gasped for air.

“Fuck,” you laughed out, nails scraping the back of his neck. “You’re a menace outside of dreamland.”

He let out a low, guttural noise and pressed his hips to yours.

“I could say the same for you,” he replied. You smirked, seeming far more interested in dragging this out but Connor was out of patience. Large hands pulled your wrists until your hands separated from his neck. He brought them behind you, making sure you noticed how easy it was to secure you with one of his hands. “You’re much easier to handle like this,” he said, enjoying how your face shifted from mischief to annoyance.

“Connor,” you warned, tone hardly concerned. Your knee bent, bare thigh grinding against a growing hardness.

You should have wanted to feel safe, warm and soothed after such harrowing events. You both deserved a night where Connor could rock into you slowly with his lips against your ear, telling you how perfect you felt. He would do it too. You could tell from the reassuring circles he was rubbing over your pinned wrists that he’d absolutely do just that if you asked.

But you didn’t want that.

“I think… I’ve made this too easy for you,” you whispered it, lips brushing over his bare chest. “Tell me what you really want.”

He moved then, one hand slipping up your arm, tracing your collarbone. With an index finger, he pushed your chin up and he lowered his face, brown eyes watching you with growing seriousness.

“I want you to run.”

“Mmm,” you mused. Your tongue flicked out to lick his kiss bitten lips. “And what will you do when you have me?”

His mouth traveled across your cheek, leaving a damp trail and stopping once he reached your ear. “Don’t get caught. You have five seconds.”

You were light on your feet, skin squeaking from dampness as you spun around to rush across smooth floors and over decorative rugs. He chuckled once again and began counting down. By the time you heard “three,” you were already through his labyrinth of hallways and past his office, fingertips leaving a wet trail along door frames and wall corners.

“One,” he concluded and made his first step forward.

You were clever with your disappearance, as it was becoming obvious you had tampered with the connection by hiding your vitals from him. It left the hallways eerily silent as your breaths didn’t register on his sensors. He passed a few rooms to follow hand shaped watery streaks on his walls and entered his bedroom.

But you were gone.

The curtains were drawn and much of the evening light pollution poured over pale walls, coloring the room in vibrant blues and purples. His eyes caught the obvious disturbance in his bed sheets, where white linen piled into a mound at the center of the bed. Connor called your name like he was coaxing an animal out of hiding, voice saccharine and melodic. With a rough tug, he pulled the sheets apart, revealing a stack of pillows.

“Now who’s chasing who?” you said, emerging from the darkness behind his open door.

Your hand met his back, pushing hard before he could react, and he braced himself to fall onto the mattress. But he was quick and devious. A hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing you down with him. Somehow, you started on top of him, knees straddling over his hips and somewhere in between he was faster and the last thing you saw was a devilish grin before you were flipped onto your back. You felt him tug your arms over your head and the weight of his palm keeping them in place.

He pressed down harder on your wrists and you bucked your hips up in response, making him hiss as your sex ground onto his cock. More pressure was applied to your wrists. “Keep these here.”

Connor’s weight on the bed shifted down your body as his hands skimmed over your chest. He rubbed your sore muscles, brows furrowing at the fading bruises on your skin. His touch fell lower, a kiss here and there over your abdomen, the tops of your thighs. You gasped as his lips began trailing heated kisses on your knee and inner thighs.

“You wanted to know the consequences of being caught,” he stated, palms pushing your legs further apart. The tip of his tongue flicked gently above your clit, the sensation gone as quickly as it came. Your back arched as you clenched around nothing.

“Tell me then,” you replied impatiently.

“I intend to fuck you with my mouth, my tongue…” He wrapped his lips around you then, sucking at your nerves. His fingers traced over your folds and he made sure you felt the graze of him almost, but not quite, pushing into you. You sighed, an annoyed huff from above him, thighs pushing into the sides of his head. It was your feeble attempt to guide him, and it only spurred him on. “And with my fingers… until you ask for me.”

You laughed but couldn’t form any real rebuttal as Connor pushed one long finger past your folds. He pumped it in slowly, curling it along sensitive nerves. His tongue flattened on your clit, lapping the swollen nub in quick succession. There was a part of you that wanted to pull apart your hands and tug his hair until he groaned, but moving meant suffering a mysterious consequence. Another finger slipped in, his android skin turning white and buzzing with a glow.

“Fuck!” you cried out.

You squirmed in his bed, hips twisting, body aching for his fingers to hit a spot he was intentionally missing. Your hands clawed at the sheets over your head. One glance down and you could see the bright gold of his indicator spinning as his tongue prodded between your folds, licking his fingers as they left you. You felt his moan, his lips vibrating, causing an involuntary buck of your hips.

Connor tsked, mouth pulling into a grin as his fingers began moving faster, this time hitting the spot you needed. His other palm flattened over your stomach, pushing your hips back into the bed.

“So needy,” he teased. “Am I making you feel good?”

You glared through lidded lashes.

“N-no,” you lied while biting your lips.

He kissed your clit and chuckled again, fingers still continuing their effort to bring you to pieces. “The situation appears differently… from my perspective.”

You wanted to curse at him, tell him his mouth should be used for anything else but talk. Realistically, there was only so much false anger you could muster when his tongue was back on you, swirling and coaxing a blinding sensation that scorched up your spine. Your fingers twitched, muscles growing sore from how hard you were gripping the sheets. Despite Connor demanding compliance, you weren’t one for following rules. You moved your hands, nails digging into his soft hair, pulling his face closer. You could feel his smirk, but he obliged, lapping at you with a renewed fervor.

He was hoping you’d do something like this. Connor was looking for any excuse to be a little mean, to pull you in, tear you apart, and put you all back together again. A string of curses slipped past your lips, the tension unexpectedly snapping faster than you imagined. You came as he wrapped his lips around your clit, tongue grinding relentlessly on the swollen bud. There was hardly time to come down from your high before he removed his face from between your thighs.

“That’s one,” he said, and it made you clench around his hand.

“W-what—”

His tongue rolled, and you writhed on the sheets, moaning softly. When you got a little needier, a little more desperate, voice pitched like you were in pain, he checked in and was pleased when you impatiently scoffed out “green.” The concept of time was lost to you, as he may have spent hours or only minutes between your legs. Connor was too enthusiastic with the way he counted “two”, then “three” as you twitched and squirmed above him. You weren’t lying back and just taking what he gave. Curses and threats left your lips, your hands tugged and clawed at his hair, his face. But he never slowed and decided on a twisted form of mercy where he kept you on the edge, ignoring how your nails scraped into his plastic chassis.

He took his mouth off of you, rising up to hover over you, knees straddling your hips while keeping his fingers pushed snuggly into you. His face was a mess, shiny with your slick, his eyes half closed and darker than the night sky.

“You owe me an answer,” Connor demanded.

“What answer?” Your voice came out almost as a whine, but you managed to stifle the sound with an angry groan. You were so painfully close and the snail pace of his fingers only heightened your frustrations. You lifted your hips, fucking yourself on him, but he stopped you with a harsh grip and slipped his fingers out of your reach.

He nosed along your neck, lips brushing at the hollow of your throat. “Don’t play games with me, Fox. I promised you’d answer it, eventually.”

His voice rang in your ears but his lips didn’t move. There was a replay of a forgotten question, one which beat around the bush over what this—you in his bed, inviting yourself over to his home—meant.

A simple: Who makes you feel this good?

You bit your lip. This game of tug of war over the smallest bit of control in the bedroom could go on forever unless you conceded. And you could, for now, at least.

“It’s you. It’s you, Connor. You make me feel good. Fuck, if you don’t move your hand, I swear to god—”

Pleased, he sucked a bruise on your neck, resuming his movements between your thighs, building you back on the edge. As you pulsed around him, he snarled low, circled an arm around your waist and flipped you onto your stomach. Connor didn’t leave you with much time to complain, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock.

Red filled the android’s vision again. It was thick, all-consuming, a crazed sort of want. He had to be inside of you and any more time spent not doing just that was going to spur another existential awakening in him. His tall frame clung to your back, thirium pump racing as his arms dragged you into an embrace, pulling your lower half up to meet his hips. He pressed into you, just enough for you to feel the pressure of him spreading you open. His voice was strained, busy muttering filth in your ear, grinning when you moaned wantonly.

He explored the planes of your skin, kneading at your chest, used his hands to build a pretty picture of you face down. His touch was borderline possessive, teeth gently clamping down on the back of your neck whenever you bucked away from him. One hand slipped between your open thighs, reacquainting itself with a bundle of nerves that had you screaming into the mattress. Connor moved then, pushing more of himself in. His hips rolled, cock dragging in teasing strokes, hand drawing tighter circles around your clit. Your breaths drew him in closer, skin pressed tightly together.

“You’ll be good for me?” he asked as he hit the part of you that made you whimper.

You laughed, because of course you did. Your teeth glinted in the dark as your head turned to side eye the android.

“Give me your worst,” you replied. He twitched within you, brown eyes following your lips as they curled around a sentence he’d been dying to hear. “Break me.”

“Fuck—”

Nothing about how he moved was sweet or tender. As your moans were lost, muffled into a creaking mattress, Connor kept his head low, his face tucked between your neck and shoulder to soak in every vibration from the sounds he tore out of your mouth. And you were vocal, screaming his name the way he liked it. It surprised him how much this differed from stasis. Beyond the obvious hot, wet, and tight grip you had on him, the android didn’t anticipate the rush of euphoria building in his chest.

You see, it was never a game of chase for him. Yes, he had enjoyed his time at the art gallery and the way you looked at him curiously, like he was an oddity to sort out. You had him. In so many ways, Connor felt as though you had him the moment you both met eyes that one dark and stormy night.

He couldn’t slow his pace down now, not when you had pushed your hips to meet his thrusts. Your name left his lips, a stuttering mess of vowels and consonants as he watched your eyes close shut. His lips dragged down your neck, leaving behind a string of nips and bites.

“Oh god. Keep, keep doing—” Your sentence got choked off by a gasp as a familiar heat began building up from your abdomen.

He shifted from behind you, angling for deeper, short thrusts. You had him where you needed him, caught between his fingers swirling around you in a hypnotizing rhythm and his too thick cock. He lowered himself onto one elbow, his fingers intertwining with yours as he brought you to one last, mind numbing peak. His hands found your hips, gripping soft flesh while he tried to find his own end.

It was a lot. Connor was a lot. Teeth grazed over your shoulder and you felt a faint sting bloom across your skin. He barely sounded human as his vocals turned to static but he calmed, dissolved into a moaning mess when you brought a hand to card through his hair. A rush of warmth filled you, his hips finally stilling and strong arms pulling you into an embrace.

For a while, only your shared pants filled the room. You let him lay a series of kisses on your neck and pull you into him as he flopped over to his side with his arms never letting go. As the minutes drifted by and your eyelids too, you didn’t even notice him leaving your side and returning with a damp cloth. You did, however, remember a warm body attached to yours as night stretched into day and the weight of an arm on your waist.

———

After days of rain, Detroit finally saw blue skies and enough sun to dry out park benches. You were reclining, enjoying the sunshine and appraising the man that decided to ask you for a short stroll through the park. Leo was doing better. His wounds were patched up and the resulting stay at a hospital was an unexpected sobering up experience for him. You almost didn’t recognize him in freshly laundered clothes and what appeared to be hair that was recently washed. Even the dark shadows around his eyes were fainter. He really seemed like a new man.

“So,” he mumbled quietly, eyes not meeting yours as he dug his heels into the dirt. “I uh… I finally called him.”

He meant his dad, and you knew that without context, especially after months of hearing him fend off Carl’s calls.

“He said I could come home… clean or not,” Leo continued, and picked at his nails. Something about admitting his wrongs and needing his family made him feel smaller and younger, cheeks red and warm, like a teenager caught doing something bad. But this time, he was coming home to open arms and the shock of having a home to come back to made him nervous, like any second now, he’d slip. “But I amclean. I told him I’m done with that shit.”

“No more midnight rendezvous?” you joked.

Leo stood up straighter, with a renewed spark in his eyes. The case against Georgia was closed thanks to his involvement, and he still felt a calling, a deep urge to do something else with his life.

“I dunno about that. Think that old school by the corner could use some fresh paint and new books.”

You raised a brow, grinning back at him. “Paper books, in this century?”

He rolled his eyes at you, snapped his fingers and pushed himself off the bench. His head turned, angling to point at a well-dressed android in the distance. Connor, sensing the conversation was ending, tilted his head in your direction and smiled.

“You dating a cop?” he asked wryly.

And, you were done catching up.

“We’re not talking about that,” you dismissed and began walking towards Connor.

“How about over drinks?” Leo shouted after you, chuckling to himself.

When you reached Connor, the android gave you a broad smile, LED spinning as he processed what he could of Leo’s words from his distance. “Are we dating?”

Your eyes went wide, and you snaked an arm around his, pulling and dragging him back onto a park trail. You didn’t catch it, the airy, bright and hopeful look on his face as your hand wandered to grip his.

Change was a funny thing. It had a way of happening whether one could do anything about it. And you wondered a little, as you walked side by side with Connor, who changed who first.

—

One evening, a pig met a fox. It was the most unusual circumstance for the two to have met. And as the pig was a curious and intelligent animal, it approached the fox, but the critter, clever and wary, ran. For how could a beast with such short legs possibly keep up with the fox? But oh, the pig was just as swift.

To the fox’s surprise, what began as a chase ended in a stroll, as the two had more in common than either imagined.

[epdmhot-waterhose]

EPDM Hoses: The Heat-Resistant Tubing for Hot Water Applications

EPDM (ethylene propylene diene monomer) hoses have become a popular choice for hot water applications in recent years. As a versatile synthetic rubber material, EPDM offers superior heat resistance, flexibility, and durability compared to traditional rubber hoses.

In this article, we’ll explore the key benefits of using EPDM hot water hoses, their typical applications, what to look for when selecting one, and proper care and maintenance tips. Whether you need a hose for a dishwasher, washing machine, or just to conveniently transport hot water, read on to learn why EPDM is an ideal tubing material.

For More Information Please visit, epdm hot water hose

Key Benefits of EPDM Hot Water Hoses

Temperature resistance – EPDM rubber maintains its strength and flexibility in continuous temperatures up to 150°C and is safe for intermittent use up to 230°C. This makes it well-suited for hot water lines.

Chemical resistance – EPDM stands up well to water, detergents, oil, and other common chemicals. It won’t degrade or leach contaminants into the water flow.

Durability – Properly maintained EPDM hoses can last for many years. The material is ozone, weather, and abrasion resistant. It also has excellent tensile strength.

Flexibility – EPDM tubing remains pliable and kink-resistant even when subjected to repeated bending. This allows it to move freely without restricting water flow.

Cost-effective – EPDM is an affordable hose material that provides exceptional performance per dollar compared to other rubber, plastic, or metal options.

Typical Applications

Dishwasher supply lines – EPDM is perfect for the high heat sanitizing cycles dishwashers run. Flexible EPDM tubing won’t crack under the strain of repeated movements either.

Washing machine hoses – For hot water inlet lines that must withstand high pressures and temperatures over years of use.

Hot water transport – Durable EPDM hoses allow safe, convenient transport of hot water for cleaning, outside showers, etc.

Radiant heating systems – Flexible EPDM tubing can be bent around tight spaces to run in-floor home heating systems.

Solar water systems – High heat resistance makes EPDM ideal for solar water heating system transport lines.

Hose Selection Considerations

When selecting an EPDM hot water hose, key factors to consider include:

Temperature rating – Hoses rated for 190°F+ are best for typical residential hot water heating systems. Industrial applications may require 500°F+ rated EPDM.

Hose diameter – Standard sizes include 1⁄2”, 5⁄8”, and 3⁄4” for home use. Larger diameters provide increased water volume.

Pressure rating – Look for at least 100 PSI working pressure and a high burst pressure. industrial uses may require 500+ PSI rated hoses. 

End fittings – Brass and stainless steel fittings offer maximum durability and temperature resistance. Plastic fittings can degrade over time.

Approvals – Look for EPDM hoses certified lead-free and drinking water safe by NSF, WRAS, or other standards organizations.

Proper Care and Maintenance

With proper care, EPDM hot water hoses can last 5-10 years or longer:

Inspect regularly – Check for damage, leaks, kinks, or corrosion. Replace suspect hoses.

Avoid overheating – Don’t exceed the hose’s rated working temperature.

Protect from UV light – Sunlight can degrade EPDM over time. Use UV-resistant covers outdoors.

Clean as needed – Flush out mineral deposits with vinegar. Don’t use solvents on EPDM.

Avoid kinks – EPDM is flexible but kinking can restrict water flow. Install with gentle bends.

Conclusion

Thanks to its durable, flexible, heat-resistant design, EPDM is the ideal tubing material for hot water applications ranging from dishwashers to radiant floor heating. Following the selection and care tips above will help ensure you choose the right EPDM hose and get the most service life out of it. Investing in a quality EPDM hot water hose will provide reliable performance for years to come.

[allhoseandvalves]

The Benefits of Using Rubber Hoses in Industrial Settings

Rubber hoses are commonly used in industrial settings due to their numerous benefits. They are highly flexible and can easily bend around corners, making them ideal for use in confined spaces. Rubber hoses are also resistant to a wide range of chemicals and can withstand exposure to high temperatures, making them ideal for use in harsh industrial environments.

Additionally, they are lightweight and easy to transport, which makes them ideal for use in applications that require frequent movement. Furthermore, rubber hoses are cost-effective and have a long service life, which means that they are a great investment for any industrial operation. Overall, the use of rubber hoses in industrial settings can lead to improved efficiency, increased safety, and reduced operating costs.

Uses of Rubber Hoses in Industrial Settings Rubber hoses are versatile tools that are widely used in industrial settings for a variety of purposes. One of the most common uses of rubber hoses is for fluid transfer, including the transfer of water, oil, and other liquids.

They are also used for the transfer of gases and air in pneumatic systems. Rubber hoses can be found in a range of applications, including agriculture, construction, mining, and automotive industries.

They are also used in chemical processing, food and beverage production, and pharmaceutical manufacturing. In addition to their use in fluid transfer, rubber hoses are used for vacuum and suction applications, as well as for the delivery of abrasive materials. Overall, rubber hoses play a critical role in many industrial processes and are essential tools for maintaining productivity and safety in the workplace.

Conclusion It is important for industries to choose the right type of rubber hose for their specific application to ensure optimal performance and longevity. Overall, rubber hoses are an essential component of many industrial processes and are critical for maintaining productivity and safety in the workplace.

Source From: https://allhoseandvalves.wordpress.com/2023/03/21/the-benefits-of-using-rubber-hoses-in-industrial-settings/

[goatsludge]

M45 Chemical-Biological Mask

Adopted in 1996, it was officially developed for rotary-wing aircrew, but U.S. Special Forces had been aiding its development under the table since the program began in the late 1980's.

Here we see a 1998-Dated example made by the original ill-fated contractor, Campbell Plastics Engineering & Manufacturing Inc, outfitted with accessories typical of those seen with 1st SFOD-D at the beginning of the 2000's;

The front voice emitter has a clip-on adapter ring for use with the Audiopack M7A1 Mask Amplifier (not pictured here).

The chemical hood differs from the issued one in that the mask's secondary skin is bonded to it as a single unit, rather than two separate components.

The exhalation valve is an aftermarket upgrade developed by Wilcox Industries. It is spring-loaded and provides exhale resistance so the mask can be more efficiently used with positive pressure filter blowers and tactical SCBA systems.

The whole setup is used with an early Micronel C420 Blower Unit, which supplies a constant flow of fresh air into the mask. An added remote cable allows the operator to switch the back-mounted unit on or off without assistance and the correct wire-reinforced crushproof breathing hose is present as well.

Probably my all-time favorite gas mask design.

[thejoaustralia]

𝗔𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 & 𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

𝗔𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 & 𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

TWISTER Cyclone & Pump Spares Customised Design for Hydro Cyclone Available as Hot Bonded Rubber or Moulded Liners Wear Parts in Rubber & Polyurethane Forms Rubber Liners for Pump Casing Moulded in High Tonnage Presses https://thejoaustralia.com/ +61 8 9434 4811 Follow us on Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/thejoaustralia/ Twitter : https://lnkd.in/d7s6FpXV Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/company/thejo-australia-pty-ltd/

[basicelements127]

Basic Elements Hyderabad - Simplifying fire!

Basic Elements Solutions Pvt Ltd, headquartered in Hyderabad, was established in 2009. Basic Elements emerged from a vision deeply rooted in the ancient wisdom of panchamahabhuta – the five elements of nature. Just as Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Space form the core elements of life, we at Basic Elements Hyderabad have integrated these principles into our mission: to channel the power of these elements for fire prevention, protection, and evacuation. With a passion for safeguarding lives and property, we embarked on a journey to redefine fire safety standards.

Our comprehensive range of fire protection services in Hyderabad is designed to safeguard lives and property.

Fire Hydrant System

Facilitate swift fire response with our Fire Hydrant System services. We install and maintain a reliable water supply, featuring strategically placed hydrants connected to top-notch RRL hose reels for effective fire protection

Fire Sprinkler System

Our team specializes in meticulous design and installation, utilizing cutting-edge 3D CAD software to tailor solutions for diverse industries, from residential and educational to industrial and hazardous environments.

Fire Alarm Service

We offer complete solutions: installation, maintenance, servicing, inspection, repair, and AMC services. Our advanced Addressable Fire Alarm Systems provide intelligent detection, and Non-Addressable Systems promptly alert occupants for a swift response to fires.

Fire Safety Inspection Service

Safeguard your property with our Fire Inspection Service. We assess and maintain essential fire safety elements, providing comprehensive solutions from detection systems to equipment maintenance for a secure and compliant environment

Fire Fighting AMC

Ensure uninterrupted safety with our Annual Maintenance Contracts. Our expert team conducts regular check-ups and maintenance, providing comprehensive protection for your fire safety systems and offering you peace of mind

Custom Fire Safety Solutions

Recognizing that each client and property is different, we deliver custom solutions for unique problems. Our approach is personalized, addressing the distinct challenges of your environment and providing effective fire safety measures

[infignito]

Fire Hydrant System in Mumbai - Fire Protection System

In bustling urban environments like Mumbai, ensuring safety against fire hazards is a critical concern. With high-rise buildings, commercial complexes, and industrial facilities scattered across the city, the need for efficient fire safety systems has never been greater. Among the most effective solutions for fire safety are the fire hydrant systems in Mumbai. Shree Sankalp Fire Protection System, a leader in fire safety solutions, specializes in the design and installation of fire hydrant systems, ensuring that properties across Mumbai are well-equipped to handle fire emergencies. This blog will explore the importance of fire hydrant systems, their integration with fire sprinkler systems and fire alarm systems, and why Shree Sankalp is the preferred choice for fire safety in Mumbai.

Understanding Fire Hydrant Systems

A fire hydrant system in Mumbai serves as a vital component of a building's fire protection infrastructure. Fire hydrants are strategically placed throughout a property, providing firefighters with immediate access to water. When a fire occurs, these hydrants allow fire crews to quickly connect hoses and direct water to combat the flames effectively. The design and placement of fire hydrants are crucial to ensuring that they are accessible in emergencies.

Fire hydrant systems are typically connected to the municipal water supply, ensuring a reliable source of water for firefighting. Additionally, these systems can be equipped with standalone water storage tanks, particularly in areas where water pressure may be insufficient. Shree Sankalp ensures that every fire hydrant system is installed with the highest standards of quality and compliance with local regulations.

The Importance of Fire Hydrant Systems in Urban Areas

In a densely populated city like Mumbai, the risk of fire incidents is significant. With the high number of high-rise buildings and crowded commercial spaces, having a robust fire hydrant system is essential for:

Rapid Response: Quick access to water is critical during fire emergencies. A well-designed fire hydrant system allows firefighters to respond swiftly, minimizing damage and protecting lives.

Enhanced Firefighter Efficiency: Fire hydrants enable firefighters to set up their operations more quickly and effectively, as they eliminate the need to transport water from distant sources.

Public Safety: Fire hydrants contribute significantly to public safety, ensuring that both residential and commercial buildings are equipped with immediate resources in case of fire emergencies.

Integration with Other Fire Safety Systems

For comprehensive fire safety, a fire hydrant system should be integrated with other systems like fire sprinkler systems and fire alarm systems.

Fire Sprinkler System Installation in Navi Mumbai: Shree Sankalp specializes in fire sprinkler system installation in Navi Mumbai. These systems work alongside hydrants to provide an automated response to fire incidents. While sprinklers can suppress small fires before they escalate, hydrants provide the necessary water supply for larger fires. This combination enhances overall fire safety, ensuring that buildings are prepared for any situation.

Fire Alarm System in Mumbai: Early detection is crucial for effective fire management. A fire alarm system in Mumbai detects smoke or heat, triggering alarms and alerting occupants to evacuate. When integrated with fire hydrant systems and sprinklers, alarms provide a coordinated response, enabling quicker action from both occupants and emergency services.

Why Choose Shree Sankalp for Your Fire Hydrant Needs?

Shree Sankalp Fire Protection System is synonymous with quality and reliability when it comes to fire safety solutions. Here are some reasons why they stand out in the industry:

Expertise in Design and Installation: With extensive experience in the field, Shree Sankalp offers customized solutions tailored to the specific needs of each building. Their team assesses the property and designs a fire hydrant system that ensures optimal coverage and accessibility.

Quality Equipment and Materials: Shree Sankalp uses only the best quality equipment and materials, ensuring that the fire hydrant systems they install are durable and effective. They comply with all local regulations and standards to guarantee safety.

Comprehensive Services: Beyond just fire hydrant systems, Shree Sankalp provides a full range of fire safety services, including fire sprinkler systems in Mumbai and fire alarm systems. This holistic approach ensures that your property is equipped with everything it needs for comprehensive fire protection.

Regular Maintenance and Inspections: Maintaining fire safety systems is crucial for their effectiveness. Shree Sankalp offers regular maintenance services to ensure that all fire hydrants, sprinklers, and alarms are in excellent working condition.

Commitment to Safety: Above all, Shree Sankalp is committed to ensuring the safety of people and property. Their dedication to excellence and customer service has made them a trusted name in the fire protection industry.

In a city like Mumbai, where the risk of fire incidents is significant, investing in a reliable fire hydrant system is essential for safeguarding lives and property. Shree Sankalp Fire Protection System stands ready to provide comprehensive fire safety solutions, including fire hydrant systems, fire sprinkler systems, and fire alarm systems. Their expertise, quality service, and commitment to safety make them the ideal choice for any property owner looking to enhance their fire protection measures.

For residents and businesses in Mumbai, ensuring that your fire safety systems are robust and reliable is not just a precaution—it’s a necessity. Trust Shree Sankalp Fire Protection System to deliver the highest standards of fire safety and protection for your property.

[banner123]

Fire Hose Reel Signage/ Nursing & Fire Safety Sign !

Fire Hose Reel Signage is used to give a clear information to the people that Fire Hose Reel is located here and also provides the important instructions to use this Fire Hose Reel. In case of any emergency situation these signs help to save time which reduces the risk of hazards and injuries. Fire Hose Reel is source of water supply for the firefighters. This Fire Hose Reel Safety Signage promotes safety at workplaces. Banner House offers high quality and Industry compliant Fire Safety Sign.

.Banner House is the Best supplier of high quality Nursing & Fire Safety Sign across Australia at affordable prices.