#Machine Learning Course Nearby in Thane

[professionaltrainingcourses]

Machine Learning Classes in Thane: Unlock the Future

Explore the core principles of AI, its applications, and the role of ML within the AI landscape. It studies many ML algorithms ML in-depth for different ML, including supervised learning (linear regression, decision trees, and SVMs) and other algorithms from that area, unsupervised clustering, dimensionality reduction, and other algorithms.

Machine Learning Course Nearby in Thane

[hatboyproject]

Synth Anthropomorphisation

I've been generating audio all day for this romance scene script & Jeff's synth is behaving unusually well for his lines, so far. Suspiciously well. Sometimes, I swear it's as if he has a mind of his own & today, he just decided to cooperate with me for some reason.

Sometimes, I have to fight with him to get a decent read out of a line. At his worst, I have to sit there for upwards of an hour, tweaking the same three or four seconds' worth of speech, trying to coax him to read it with the inflection that I need. Sometimes I have to adjust the script's wording to make him "like it" better, or splice together multiple takes to get a word said in the way I like. Occasionally, I have to do even further pitch correction post-generation, and even after all that, I can still end up with a line read that I know isn't working all that well. It can sometimes be a really, really, really mentally draining task. I swear he's more temperamental on some days than others. On different days, I've generated the same line and got a slightly different read.

But today, he seems to like me, a little bit. I'm most of the way through the script now, and I've had to do relatively few corrections on most of them. In fact, he's come out with a few pretty acceptable reads with no corrections at all, and I've just tweaked them as if giving a director's suggestion rather than pushing an instrument around.

I'm aware that I sound like a raving lunatic at the moment and if the weather's decent tomorrow, I swear I'll go outside and touch some grass, but it's hard sometimes not to feel like the goddamned machine hasn't only learned how to enunciate speech like this actor, but has also learned me.

Of course, the logical explanation is that I'm just better at using it and predicting what words he has trouble with, but sometimes, I swear.

Now, FemShep, on the other hand... She's a tricky beast. She likes to get one half of a two sentence line absolutely perfect and crystalline, complete with little breathy flairs and smooth tonal transitions, and then mumble the other half like some kind of stumbling drunk. For almost every FemShep line with more than one sentence, no matter how short, I have to split the lines into multiple takes. The problem is that to keep tone and pitch natural, it's best to include as much of the whole phrase as possible so that it flows. But no, not on Shepard's watch. She loves nothing more than to make me chop everything she says up and stick it together. I swear.

Synth Personalities, as I Understand Them:

Jeff is ornery, but is essentially committed, and if you catch him at the right time, almost affectionate in his willingness to cooperate. Despite sounding dry by default most of the time, it's easy to direct him towards sounding surprisingly tender. Needs larger words spelled phonetically. He is a pilot who can't say the word "fly" without creative assistance and refuses to say his own surname under any circumstances whatsoever. Extremely responsive to punctuation and will alter his reads accordingly.

Shepard is a highly skilled loose cannon that does whatever the hell she wants on her own terms, and occasionally it's miraculous, but it's also always confusing. Can't pronounce "evacuate," no matter how you break it down phonetically. She likes it when you draw out her R, S and H sounds, particularly at the ends of words so she can do this breathy thing. I don't know, but it works. Doesn't give a damn about punctuation unless it's commas or full stops, and even then, only if she feels like it.

EDI does pretty much anything you ask of her, flawlessly, the first time. Any corrections are minimal, and she can handle multiple sentences without sounding awkward. She can handle complicated words like "xenopsychology" with minimal assistance. Always pronounces "Shepard" with good inflection wherever it is in the sentence. Naturally produces deadpan lines with perfect comedic timing. What the fuck.

Garrus is a rambling speaker and is very accepting of unusual words, such as people's names. He takes direction well for the most part, and is excellent when it comes to split clauses. His tone is easy to moderate, but has trouble not joining separate sentences together too quickly. Always needs the "y" in "you" to be lengthened. Easily sounds affectionate or dictatorial. Can even be made to sound as though he is smiling when speaking. Often needs vowels shortening on the ends of words or he will draw them out unreasonably until they disintegrate into nonsense.

Kaidan has perfect tonal variation and terrible artefacting. He sounds like he's reading you the most beautiful, heartfelt thing you're ever gonna hear... From five thousand light-years away on a bad transceiver. He does his best, and his best is surprisingly good at core, but he is tragically limited in overall clarity by quality problems. It's a snap to make him sound caring and romantic, but again... Get a better phone. Usually says "Shepard" too enthusiastically and has to have the letters pitch-altered to fit the rest of the sentence.

Thane sounds confused a lot. Often sounds like he isn't sure about what he's saying, his tone on un-adjusted sentences is usually slightly absent sounding in a way that's difficult to describe. Surprisingly versatile where it comes to trying to copy the weird "Baby Siha" meme. If you don't know what that is, go ahead and look it up, but only if there's a shower nearby, because hearing it will make you feel slimy and uncomfortable in ways you didn't think was possible. Chuckles pretty convincingly.

Male Shepard wants to know what's going on, but first, he will try to explain what's going on as best he understands it being under the effects of god knows what. He often sounds declarative, but in that drunken frat boy kind of way that makes you want to back away slowly and not make eye contact. If he feels like saying your line, though, he'll do it with an impressive capability for mimicking Meer's sometimes unusual style of delivery.

Can't wait to test Jack and Miranda. I bet Jack can swear with incredibly life-like inflection.

[kewltie]

Katsuki’s backlog of military pension from the Imperial Homeworld arrives thirteen cycles after he’d finally settled on a newly minted colony outpost in Wild Space. He’d given more than twenty years of his life to the Empire and its glory and they still half-ass his retirement.

Fucking figures. Useless bureaucracy as always.

His pension landed with a dropship of shipments from a nearby space station. Katsuki half expected some kind of parade of medals and acclaims, and enough credits lining his bank account to tide him over for several generations, because Bakugou Katsuki is a goddamn war hero. He’d carried more than his weight in battle and had fought on the frontline of the Empire’s wars since he learned how to carry a gun and shoot a man at eleven on one of the Empire’s offshoot colonies.

He’s a soldier through and through, and he’d paid his dues. It’s now their turn.

What actually steps out of ship is neither some fanciful rewards or some official congratulating on his overdue retirement, but a young man with curls of green hair that reminds him of an overgrown bush and the greenest pair of eyes to match. He even got freckles dusting his face and decked out in gleaming gemstones that covered his ears, hands, neck, and wrists. He is a walking treasury of the Empire, wearing a thin long flowy dressrobe too flimsy and delicate for the kind of harsh climate in CAPU VI, and his long hair is pinned up with a flower ornamental headpiece dyed in crimson colors.

Their eyes meet and Katsuki’s pension dip his eyes as his cheeks stained a soft hue of pink. “Colonel Bakugou,” he says, lowering his head and his long lashes dipping with deference. “I’ve come on the behest of the Empire as a reward for your honorable service and duty to the Imperial Homeworld.”

Katsuki drags his hand down his face and groans as Kaminari whistles appreciatively next to him. “Oh Merciful Thane, they got you a courtesan as your pension,” he says, barely containing his amusement. “What were they even thinking?!”

“Those fucking nutjobs,” Katsuki grumbles.

Courtesan. A fancy nomer for the flowers of the Core Worlds. Genetically engineered humans with spliced genes from various plants, they're bred and raised to be the companion of the elites. Docile, submissive, and blindingly loyal to their master; they're worse than actual pets.

Katsuki crossed path with a few of them in the past through public functions pushed by the Imperial's propaganda machine, because someone got to nicely package war to the ignorance mass. All the courtesans he'd previously encountered were all pretty smiles, well mannered, and soft spoken. They were so goddamn perfect in presentation that it was like talking to an empty headed doll. It had grinded his gears then and it still grinds his gears now. What the fuck is Katsuki even supposed to do with some artificial created flower doll?

Sheltered in the cradle of the Core Worlds, these courtesan certainly never know the meaning of starvation, never dirty their hands in a hard day of work, and certainly had never step foot on some far flung planet and told to survive they must fight and kill the enemies in front of them.

Katsuki had worked his ass off to be able to finally retired deep in Wild Space, far from the Empire's reach, so he can live a life away from the bloodshed and deaths of war after having endured it enough to last several lifetimes.

But, of course the Empire continues to fuck him over even now.

He gazes at the Empire's last fuck you to him, brows pinching in thought. Shipping him back would be an annoyance, too many toes he would have stepped on, but worth it.

The courtesan gives him a tentative smile under the intense scrutiny. Cool. Professional. And just downright perfect. "I'm Izuku from the Misty Rain Teahouse," he introduces himself.

Misty Rain, a famous teahouse that had train some of the best courtesans in the galaxy and Izuku is one of theirs. At least the Empire is not that much of a stingy ass autocracy to skimp out on his pension even if their gift is completely useless and inconvenience to him in this part of space.

"I don't care what the fuck your name is or where you came from," Katsuki says with narrowed eyes, "because you're going hop right back on that damn ship. I don't have time to take care of some pamper pet trying to warm my bed when this hellhole of planet is going to fuck me sideways if I'm not careful."

Izuku flinches, but holds his head high and shoulders firm. "I--," his cheeks redden as he clear his throat, "I'm not here to be just your b-bed partner, Colonel Bakugou. I'm to be your husband. You made an acquisition for a spouse with the VA and I'm here to fulfill it."

A beat of deathly silence, then, "what?" Katsuki demands with an outraged hiss.

Kaminari's brows shoot up to hairline at that revelation. "Sol's galactic balls, they sent you an equivalent of a mail order bride!" He clutches his stomach, and laughs and laughs like the idea is so absurd it got to be some sort of a joke. "I didn't think you were that lonely to be in a need of a spouse, Bakugou."

Katsuki's eyes flashes toward Kaminari and he smacks him at the back of his head for the trouble. "Shut your fucking mouth before I stapled it shut," he threatens.

Kaminari just grins and mines zipping his mouth in the face of Katsuki's glare and fury. "Aye, aye, sir," he says with a lazy salute that makes Katsuki bristle. They’re out of uniform, but doesn’t mean Kaminari can be indolent with his manners.

Katsuki consider throwing him in the compactor for his casual insubordination, but he's shorts on extra hands at his ranch and Kaminari when he's not speaking is actually a good engineer. He sighs, and turns back to the other problem at hand, who is sparing him a hopeful smile.

Katsuki rakes a hand through his hair furiously, before biting the bullet. "Look, I didn't make any formal request for a spouse," he tells Izuku. "So you can go back and tell those fuckers that they had made a mistake. I wanted my pension in credits at least and not a damn bedwarmer."

"B-but," Izuku's green go wide with hurt, "I got your signature here right here, sir." He pulls up a holocron page on his wrist and there's a digital footprint of Katsuki's signature on it. "You signed the paperwork so we're officially married under the Empire's purview."

Katsuki’s jaw locks, hands curling at his side as a windswept murderous rage set in. He thinks of that boy orphaned by war, who had learned how to wield a gun and shoot a man down long before he even knew the warmth of another home; his hands are uncleaned.

Twenty years. Twenty fucking years that he had let them strung him up like a toy soldier so he can bleed on foreign soil countless time, spearheaded invasions, and waged wars for the Empire's ambition that had left him half mad and lost in a sea of the ghost of his compatriots.

He was done. Done with their damning blood wars. Never again will he played into their hands. The day after they had pinned another the medal of honor on his chest, he'd sent in his retirement papers and that was that. Only thirty years old, but he was already a veteran of hundreds of wars.

It only took watching a friend get shot way too many times, that there's no honor or glory in burying the dead and having to grip the hand of someone you had slept and fought side by side with as they breathed their last breath. Katsuki was tired of it all. Losing and losing and losing, even when he had come out of each battle unscathed. Using the blood money they had given him and had accumulated over the years, he bought several acres of land and within a year he managed to carve a life for himself here in the Wild Space.

He'd never consider that escaping from the Empire's machination would even remotely entrap him with a damn husband for a spy later.

"I don't need or want you, so fuck off!" Katsuki spits out. This man before him reeks of the Empire's ploy to have him fall back into their grip. He would foolish to assume that once he hung up his guns and assumed a civilian identity that they would just leave him the fuck alone. He’s too good of a soldier to be ever truly let loose in society.  

Once a dog of war, always a dog of war.

 "I'll double whatever they'd paid you to be here,” Katsuki continues to offer with a glower.

Izuku blinks, taken back his sharp words as hurt flashes across his face, but he swiftly recovers with a steady voice that had been practice a million times before. "Colonel Bakugou, it is of great privilege to be able to serve you,” he says, the words flowing out of him easy and true. “You are not only a hero of the Empire, but the hero, the White Wolf, who had ravaged Epsilon VX and saved the Citadel from the Anrhon." He drops his gaze to the ground. "I was chosen specifically as reward for all your accolades. I deeply apologize that you do not find me to your taste or use."

Kaminari jabs him in the side with his sharp elbow. "Couldn't you be more considerate?" he hisses. "You're going to make him cry!"

Katsuki turns to him and glares. "I fucking didn't ask for him or any of this! I just want those fuckers at HQ to leave me the fuck alone." He switches his attention back to the new baggage that was dropped in his lap unceremonly and finds him hunch over, eyes still downcast, and so out of place at this shitty spaceport with all expensive jewelries and clothes. And fuck.

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face at this entire fucked up fiasco.

Izuku jerks his head up suddenly. "If General Bakugou wish for me to leave, I would," he starts, voice hesitant and wary, "but as the next transport shuttle won't depart to the core worlds till next quarter, I cannot leave yet."

Katsuki groans in defeat, because what the fuck.

When he'd chosen this quadrant of the in the outer rims, Wild Space, because he had wanted to put as much distance from the reaches of the Empire as possible and this part of space is harsh and still mostly untamed. It takes the Empire too much manpower to maintain control of the independent colonies this far off the rim. And very few seek to settle on this last frontier of the galaxy where raiders, slavers, and the worst kind of people make their home here. The colonists that landed here either has no other choice left or they're just plain mad. Katsuki is neither, because he's very good with a gun and he always like a challenge.

It's much easier to find shuttles that take the passengers here then is it to find one that is willing to take them back, because very few does. The outer rims will chew you up and spit you out all wrong and fucked up that you become unrecognizable. This place is not made for pretty, delicate flowers like Izuku. "Fine, fucking fine," he growls out, frustration thickening his voice. He's not that much of an asshole to leave his not-spouse stranded and alone in this hellhole. "You can stay with me for now. Temporary until I figure what to do with you." He scowls. "But as soon as the next shuttle arrived, you're going to drag your ass on that ship and never come back here, do you hear me?"

Izuku lights up, eyes bright as his hands clasped together. "Thank you, thank you so much, sir. I will not drag you down and will work hard to earn my bedding and food."

"So," Kaminari muses, "you got a free labor and companionship for an entire three months. Fun times ahead."

Katsuki’s scowl deepens. "Fun my ass." He rolls his eyes. "Come on, get your luggage and throw it in Kaminari's hovercar. We're heading back to my ranch and it's a long and bumpy ride hed."

Izuku shuffles forward hopefully. "Yes, sir." Then, he stops and winces. "My luggages are quite a lot. I'm sorry that it might be a tight squeeze in the hovercar for all three of us."

Katsuki snorts. "It’s fine. I didn't come here with him on the hovercar anyway. I have my own ride."

He prefers to travel around on his cy-bike anyway. It's faster, smaller, and his. Less chance of other people riding along, because he hates having passengers on his bike anyway.

"Oh," Izuku breathes, his eyes widening with delight and curiosity, "I've never been on a cy-bike before." He looks hopefully at Katsuki. "May I ride with you, general?"

Katsuki's brow twitches as Kaminari snickers beside him at the audacity of this sheltered flower from the core worlds. Suicidal or mad, he thinks in annoyance, these are the people that chose to come here. Izuku might be both. Sol, the boy is both. "You," he points at Izuku, then to himself with narrowed and skeptical eyes, "want to ride with me."

"Yes." Izuku nods eagerly. "May I? I promise to behave!"

Katsuki rubs his throbbing forehead and sighs. "I don't take passenger," he says, "and especially when you're wearing that." He gestures to Izuku – to the delicate, fine silk skirt of his long dressrobe that swamped his person. "It's going to tear into the fabric and you're going to be upset about your ruined clothes."

Izuku looks down at his chosen attire, frowns, and then with no hesitation he bends down, reaches for his skirt and tears right into it. His hands pull taught at the material like a fine knife cutting through water. Seamless, clean, it goes all the way around him till whatever remains is a very, very short skirt that hang loose mid-thigh,  making him look like one of those port hookers ready to drop their clothes for ten credits.

A treasured courtesan, raised in the core worlds with all its luxury and wealth, had ripped his overprice damn robe in front of them with no shame. "Will that do?" Izuku asks earnestly, holding the piece of fabric he had torn in his grip. "Or should I make it even shorter?"

Kaminari makes a scandalized sound next to him that sound like dying horine. "Fine, you win," Katsuki drawls out, mostly exasperated but also slightly impressed. This shittyass galaxy that had made children into soldiers and soldiers into monsters, he wouldn’t surprise if the flower before him will also grow some teeth one day.

Honestly, fuck them all. Clearly, Izuku has no intention to give him any peace or quiet in the next several months that he’s stuck here with Katsuki.