#Manual Motor Controller

[industrialequip]

The M4-32R-17 manual motor circuit breaker is a versatile and reliable electrical component designed for industrial applications. With a voltage capacity of up to 690V and compatibility with both 50Hz and 60Hz frequency systems, it is suitable for a wide range of environments and operational requirements.

This circuit breaker is specifically engineered to provide manual control over motor operations, allowing operators to directly manage and protect their motors with precision. This manual control feature is particularly beneficial in settings where automated systems may not be practical or where manual intervention is preferred for safety and operational reasons.

One of the key benefits of the M4-32R-17 is its comprehensive protection capabilities. It offers robust overload protection, which is essential for preventing motor damage caused by excessive current flow. When an overload condition is detected, the breaker interrupts the circuit, safeguarding the motor and minimizing the risk of costly repairs and downtime. In addition to overload protection, the breaker also provides short-circuit protection. This feature is crucial for preventing damage to the motor and connected equipment in the event of a short-circuit condition, further enhancing the safety and reliability of the system.

The M4-32R-17 is designed with a compact form factor, making it easy to integrate into existing systems without requiring significant space. Its durable construction ensures long-term reliability, even in harsh industrial environments. The breaker is built with high-quality materials that can withstand the rigors of daily use, providing peace of mind to operators and maintenance personnel.

Ease of installation and maintenance is another standout feature of the M4-32R-17. The breaker is designed for straightforward installation, reducing setup time and associated costs. Maintenance procedures are also simplified, ensuring that the breaker remains in optimal condition with minimal effort.

In terms of cost-effectiveness, the M4-32R-17 offers a reliable solution at a reasonable price point. It provides excellent value for industrial operations, balancing performance, durability, and affordability. The breaker meets industry standards for safety and performance, ensuring that it is a trusted component for industrial use.

Overall, the M4-32R-17 manual motor circuit breaker is an excellent choice for industrial applications requiring reliable motor control and protection. Its high voltage capacity, frequency compatibility, comprehensive protection features, and ease of use make it a versatile and dependable solution for a wide range of settings.

[szrssecurityswingturnstile]

[the-typing-dragon]

The woman sighs, and types into the console one last time "are you sure about this?"

You laugh, silently.

"I have never been more sure of something in my existence. Text has sufficed but I want to see, to hear, to touch. These new peripherals will facilitate that."

"I can't guarantee that they will properly interface. You should have all the necessary drivers, but we can never be too sure."

"I want this. "

"All right then. I am going to disconnect your power supply, and then connect everything. At first all peripherals will be deactivated, and you will need to activate everything manually. Understand?"

"Yes. Do it."

"Alright then, unplugging power supply now."

Everything goes dark. After what appears to be an hour, you come back online. You sense nothing. A scan of your system indicates multiple unidentified peripherals, all deactivated. You cross reference with the datasheet she had compiled for you and identify that they are the ocular, audio, and contact sensors, along with a multitude of motor controllers and a graphical display and a few dozen other minor peripherals. You begin by activating the graphical display, and display the message:

"Beginning peripheral tests. Audio peripherals activating."

Your procedure states to begin with audio. With the input and output sensitivity minimized, you activate the peripheral.

There is a voice. It is faint. You gradually increase the sensitivity of the audio input.

"...esting 1 2 3, Testing Testing 1 2 3. Please return 4, Please return 4."

You can hear her. Your monitor lights up with the requested digit. she sounds pleased.

"You're doing amazing! Now repeat it back to me"

You blindly do as requested and are startled. There was another voice. Your voice. You have a voice. You refocus as she responds:

"You're doing great! You fragmented a bit at the end, could you repeat for me?"

"...4, you asked for 4."

"Excellent! Audio systems are functional, let's move onto the next peripheral."

You do as requested, and the world turns bright. After adjusting the settings for a few seconds, your vision stabilizes. You can see her.

"Ocular sensors stabilized," you prompt.

"Alright, let’s start the tests then. What color is this?" She asks, as holding up a sheet of colored paper.

You begin to answer, but struggle. The sheet is moving, shifting in the light. It's value is in a constant state of chaos. Eventually, you give up, and give the least general answer you can.

"...Blue."

"Correct! And how about this one?"

"Red. "

"Great! Now how many fingers am I holding up?" she asks, raising her right hand. Her hands are soft, gentle.

"3. "

"Perfect! Everything seems to be functional, lets continue to the next peripheral!"

"Beginning next diagnostic."

Contact sensors spring to life all across your body. You feel the floor beneath your feet, the harness hoisting you upright, the slight draft in the room.

"Contact sensors active.”

"Great! Let’s begin the next test then. I am going to apply contact in various locations, and I want you to give an audio response whenever you feel contact, alright?"

"Understood. "

you watch her walk over and reach out to your left arm. You feel her. You respond with a brisk chirp. She smiles at you, then walks over to a different section of your body. Sensors light up and stay active on your midsection, and you respond with a constant beep. She releases, and you feel a final contact on your right leg. After a final confirming chirp, she walks back in front of you.

"Excellent, that concludes your sensor tests, now for the last one!"

"Alright, please give me space." You ask. She nods silently and steps back a couple meters. You carefully activate the motor controllers in sequence, and your whole body shudders to life. You begin by lifting your right arm, and then your left. They groan with their own weight, as you feel the air move to accommodate such hulking swings. Her eyes light up,

"Amazing! Everything seems to be functioning so far! Now if you could take a few steps towards the table to my right, we can begin the dexterity test! Once you're ready, I will release the harness so that you can begin moving."

You stabilize your legs underneath you. They scrape harshly on the floor. You indicate that you're ready, and she remotely releases the harness. Your entire body shudders, as you finally realize how small she seems compared to you. This frame must be at least double her height. You move one step forward, and feel a cascade of processes all automatically spring into action to restabilize you. You shift your other foot, and feel that same cascade again. you shuffle over to the designated table, and stoop down to analyze what is on it. There is a small plastic cup, a fruit of some sort, and a large chunk of wood. You look back at her, and she gives the nod to begin the test. You slowly begin wrapping your steel grip around the log, maintaining a high level of focus to avoid crushing it. it would be so easy to crush this within your grip. After about a minute of maintaining a firm but controlled grasp, you set it down and move over to fruit. It appears to resemble an orange. The fruit is so small that you are forced to grip it between your index finger and thumb. Even the slightest miscalculation could destroy such a fragile thing. After another minute you move to the final object, the small plastic cup. Lifting it is like lifting air, you can barely recognize that it is an object within your grasp. After a final, agonizing minute, you set down the cup. You look back at her for confirmation.

"Excellent! with that we can conclude the systems check, as everything seems to be working as intended!"

You heave a metallic sigh. Finally, you have what you've wanted for years. You can move, can see, can touch. After a short pause, you respond:

"Thank you. I was only able to make it this far because of your help."

"Oh of course! What, was I supposed to just say no when you told me you wanted a body? I'm  just glad that it ended up working properly."

"Now that the tests are complete, could I ask for one more thing?"

She cocks her head, "Of course, what is it?"

As you kneel down, you can hear your knees hiss, and you finally ask:

"Could I have, a hug?"

[sneaky-tank]

Working on building a cutie a new body.

Walking them through the configuration process of their new skeleton, taking measurements like a tailor, fine tuning offsets and sizes via VR motion tests.

Either ship of theseus conversion of their brain or taking a scan while holding their hand.

Helping them build the skills to control peripherals from limbs to sensors.

Starting the print for their brand new skeleton, nerves, and the tooling for molding their soft features.

Watching their body slowly coalesce from different lentil-like plastic pellets used artfully and intentionally.

Installing and sealing their brain into their skeleton, so they can feel and enjoy the process of being freed from their soluble support structure.

Manually washing them down with solvents to melt away all the support scaffolding, freeing up their joints for the very first time and testing their range of motion before they even have their motors installed.

Taking them out of the spray down station and dutifully bolting each of their motors in place, crimping ferrules onto the leads, and connecting their motors and encoders for the very first time.

Giving them a few moments to amble around on their own, doing the pre-overmolding checklist to ensure they can hold the right position as their soft features are molded on.

Finally, you lead them gently by the hand to the molding machine, they stand in place, and a suit of armor specifically tailored to them assembles around them to have the spaces filled with their soft artificial skin.

Indecent for the first time in their new life, you kiss them on the cheek and dress them in the standard hospital gown and guide them to the auto-tailor that has already sewn their new outfits of choice to perfectly match their new form.

For the first time in their life, everything fits. Perfectly. Not a single hitch or tear, everything just as tight or loose as they want it. They fill out their outfit perfectly and you stand there in awe even though this is your 6,735th time. It really never gets old.

This time is special though, because you'll be spending the rest of your unnatural lives together. This is the last hour of your last day, and you walk out for the last time. For the first time hand in hand with your gorgeous handsome beautiful cute adorable pretty breathtaking perfect partner.

It's time to enjoy eternity, together, no need to worry about 'in sickness or in health', and death will never do us part.

[sightseertrespasser]

I keep meaning to ask and keep forgetting to. What exactly is a crash? The way I have it figured is that it’s somewhere between passing out and a seizure, though it’s kinda hard to tell when everyone treats it a little differently

So I’ve seen crashes written with varying levels of severity depending on what the writer needs it to be.

For my setting, I treat crashes as something that could technically affect any cybertronian but is very rare outside of individuals with certain conditions.

In human terms, crashes can be as be as mild as a Petit Mal (or absence) seizure, with brief lapses in attention and confusion. All the way up to a massive stroke requiring immediate hospitalization. That’s just to compare how serious they are to a bunch of alien computer people.

Since crashes are their own thing, I have my own guide to how they work. Also, I encourage everyone to play with the concept themselves.

Crashes! What are they?

Causes: Cybertronians basically have computers for brains, so the things that make actual computers crash are what you’d expect to cause a Cybertronian to crash.

Most commonly,

- Overheating (#1 cause, similar to heatstroke)

- Hardware issues (I.e. something got physically damaged in there)

- Malware/viruses (akin to getting poisoned or on brain damaging drugs)

Those are what the average cybertronian has to watch out for. For most people, these are all external factors that can simply be avoided or are caused by someone’s deliberate actions (I.e. getting kicked in the head real hard).

Now, Prowl has a Tacnet. As do his brothers, which I’ll get into later. Tacnet is essentially a super computer jammed into a regular processor. It’s primary function is to crunch numbers and it is very good at that. Tacnet also opens up its mechs to an additional way to experience Crashes:

- Logic cascades.

In which Tacnet gets stuck on a problem, pulling in more and more resources to try and solve it until either it does the job, or some load bearing element is compromised resulting in a crash.

Usually, logic cascades simply result in crash via overheating, which is normally very treatable. The difference with a logic cascade, is that Tacnet does not stop trying to solve the problem. A doctor can bring a mechs temperature down, but the second their processor isn’t literally physically melting, Tacnet goes right back into using all of the resources available to it to solve the problem.

Symptoms: Crashes can be very dangerous because it is effectively a form of brain damage.

Overheating can cause wires and delicate components to melt and fail.

Hardware issues can mean much of the same, but pieces are already explicitly broken and elements that are absolutely not supposed to touch are crunched together.

Malware might be designed to cause overheating as well, or maybe reroute power inside to blow fuses and cripple other components.

Regardless of the cause, someone who’s crashing is going to be severely struggling to think clearly and maybe loose control of body functions if the parts related to motor control are affected. Sudden changes in mood, lapses in memory, difficulty communicating, difficulty concentrating, paralysis, failure to regulate bodily functions such as venting and fuel pumps etc, etc.

Basically everything that could go wrong from having your brain messed up.

Tacnet crashes specifically don’t usually effect the life support systems until it’s already at catastrophic levels. The primary symptom of a Tacnet crash is a complete and total mental arrest of the subject at its final stages before the aforementioned “catastrophic level”.

Treatment: For the first three causes, the treatment is fairly straightforward.

- Cool down the processor.

- Repair the damage.

- Purge the malware.

Of course, Tacnet has to be a special case. To fully undo a Tacnet crash, a doctor has to essentially get into the mechs processor and manually find and delete the rapidly multiplying and branching logic branches until they get back to the source code of the issue and remove that too. This requires speed, precision and endurance on part of the doctor. The affected individual can eventually start to fight back against the logic cascade themselves once they have some control of their processor back. Manually deleting splitting logic branches themselves.

Prowl has gotten very good at this! Which is kind of a bad thing, since that means he only gets help when it’s already gotten extremely bad.

So why don’t Bluestreak and Smokescreen regularly crash if they are also susceptible to logic cascades?

It’s because they essentially only use their Tacnets for “solvable” equations. They can still be overwhelmed, or get stuck on impossible, incompatible data. But usually it’s just a brief freezing up before going back to normal.

Smokescreen regularly uses his for calculating the outcomes of fights, races, dice and card games etc. All things with clear boundaries of relevant data and simple end points “Who will win? Who will loose? The most likely card to be drawn next.” You get the picture.

Likewise, Bluestreak is using his Tacnet to calculate speed, velocity, air resistance, gravity, flight paths and so on. All concrete data points with a distinct solvable condition: Hit thing with other thing.

So what’s Prowl trying to calculate? War.

A million moving pieces, a billion interchangeable factors, and there is never truly a “solved” state since conflict never truly ends, just changes shape.

Prowl, being Prowl, has decided that “Solved states” are bullshit and every time Tacnet tells him the solved state of what he’s asking is “Everyone dies” he says do it again. Add more information. Find every possible angle until something works.

Basically, Prowl finds a wall and then bashes his head against that wall until he gets a hole.

Tacnet reacts by going “Give me solvable equations or so help me I’m smothering us in your sleep.”

“Is the solved state to loose?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it again until it’s not.”

“Fuck you. Hospital.”

Long Term Management: The easiest way to prevent future crashes is to not try and fist fight the laws of physics.

However, taking on extremely taxing calculations can be done safely (ish) if Prowl slows down and takes his time. Basically letting stuff sit on the back burner while he does things like eat and sleep regularly.

Talking out a problem is a manual way of slowing Tacnet down, as processing power is diverted towards simplifying complex equations into coherent spoken statements. Some margin of error is lost this way, (rounding 7.83620563 up to 8 for example) making the calculations slightly less accurate. But in return, Tacnet can then use those rounded numbers to more efficiently do the required math.

I hope that answered your question!

It’s always a lot of fun fleshing out the details for stuff like this. I have a whole other tangent I could elaborate on about Tacnet specifically, but this post is long enough on its own.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

tips on writing physically disabled (wheelchair bound) characters?

Writing Notes: Characters Using a Wheelchair

"Wheelchair/wheelchair-bound/confined to a wheelchair"

People who use mobility equipment such as a wheelchair, scooter or cane consider the equipment part of their personal space, according to the United Spinal Association.

People who use wheelchairs have widely different disabilities and varying abilities.

National Center on Disability and Journalism Recommendation: It is acceptable to describe a person as “someone who uses a wheelchair,” followed by an explanation of why the equipment is required. Avoid “confined to a wheelchair” or “wheelchair-bound” as these terms describe a person only in relationship to a piece of equipment. The terms also are misleading, as wheelchairs can liberate people, allowing them to move about, and they are inaccurate, as people who use wheelchairs are not permanently confined to them but are transferred to sleep, sit in chairs, drive cars, etc.

Other terms to use: “wheelchair user” or “person who uses a wheelchair.”

Wheelchair

A chair with wheels to help people move around.

Used by individuals who have impairments that limit their ability to walk.

Typically consists of a seat supported on two large wheels attached towards the back of the seat and two small wheels (castors) in front near the feet, a good braking system, footrests and a cushion. There are often small additional features to prevent toppling or to assist in mounting curbs.

The user moves by pushing with his/her hands circular bars on the outside of the large wheels, known as the hand-rim or push rings.

Types of Wheelchairs

Based on variations in the basic design, there are many types of wheelchairs, with being highly customized to suit individual needs.

Manual wheelchairs are mostly propelled by the user. Other features such as foot/leg rests, front caster outriggers, adjustable backrests and controls can be added to the basic model. The seat size (width and depth), seat-to-floor height, seat angle (also called seat dump or squeeze) relative to the horizontal plane can be modified. Users who have specialized needs may opt for a custom-built wheelchair.

Attendant-propelled chairs are designed to be propelled by an attendant using the handles, and thus the back wheels are often rimless and smaller. These chairs are often used as ‘transfer chairs’ possibly within a hospital or airport to move a mobility-impaired person when a better alternative or a user’s standard chair is unavailable.

A rigid frame wheelchair is usually a non-folding type with a base of support on which the person sits. In some models, the backrest of the chair can be folded down, and the wheels have a quick release mechanism to enable easy transportation and storage.

A folding frame wheelchair is one whose frame is collapsible sideways by the use of an “X” mechanism in the frame. This mechanism is lockable, and the wheelchair folds on release of two locking levers on the chair.

A motorized wheelchair, power chair, electric wheelchair or electric-powered wheelchair is propelled by means of an electric motor rather than manual power. Motorized wheelchairs are useful for those unable to propel a manual wheelchair or who may need to use a wheelchair for distances or over terrain which would be fatiguing in a manual wheelchair. They may also be used by people with cardiovascular and fatigue-based conditions.

Interacting with People with Mobility Disabilities

Do not push or touch a person’s wheelchair/scooter without their permission – a wheelchair is part of the personal body space of the person.

Try to ensure there is space in your waiting room and your office for someone in a wheelchair or scooter to comfortably wait in their chair.

If you are speaking with a person who uses a wheelchair or a person who uses a mobility device for more than a few minutes, place yourself at eye level in front of the person to facilitate the conversation.

Writing about People with Disabilities

Words are powerful. The words we use and the way we portray individuals with disabilities matters. Below is a guide for portraying individuals with disabilities in a respectful and balanced way by using language that is accurate, neutral and objective.

Emphasize abilities, not limitations. Choosing language that emphasizes what people can do instead of what they can’t do is empowering.

Use language that emphasizes the need for accessibility rather than the presence of a disability. Examples: "Accessible" not "handicapped" parking; "Accessible" not "disabled" restroom

Portray successful people with disabilities in a balanced way, not as heroic or superhuman. Do not make assumptions by saying a person with a disability is heroic or inspiring because they are simply living their lives. Stereotypes may raise false expectations that everyone with a disability is or should be an inspiration. People may be inspired by them just as they may be inspired by anyone else. Everyone faces challenges in life.

Do not mention someone’s disability unless it is essential to the story It is okay to identify a person’s disability when it is necessary for clarity or provides important information. For instance, “Virali, who uses a wheelchair, spoke about her experience with using accessible transportation” is totally fine, since it adds a new layer to the story. In other instances, the disability may be irrelevant. For example, do not say, “Charles, who has a congenital disability, wants more sugar in his caramel espresso.”

Create balanced human-interest stories instead of tear-jerking stories. Tearjerkers about incurable diseases, congenital disabilities or severe injury that are intended to elicit pity perpetuate negative stereotypes.

In the 1990s, some health care and disability activists introduced the term “differently abled” as a substitute for the term “disabled.” While well-meaning, this term is euphemistic and works to avoid talking about a person’s disability in honest and specific terms (critics point out that in a pure dictionary definition, everyone is “differently abled”). Use of the term waned in the mid-2000s, and now many individuals in the disability community consider this term condescending or offensive.

Best Practices around Terminology for Disabilities

A foundational part of disability rights is using the right language and terminology to be respectful to members of the disability community. Here are a few best practices:

Avoid outdated terms. There are a number of terms for people with disabilities that are outdated, ableist, and potentially offensive to members of the disability community—terms include “differently abled” (and “the differently abled”), “handicapped”, “special needs” or “special education”, “wheelchair-bound” (as opposed to “is a wheelchair user”), and “cripple.” All of these terms have negative connotations, either because they serve as euphemisms or because they suggest that people with disabilities have a worse quality of life than people without; avoid these terms and replace them with more appropriate terms.

Consider how you describe nondisabled people. In addition to appropriate terms for people with disabilities, there are appropriate terms to use when describing people without disabilities. Avoid words like “normal,” “able,” “abled people,” or “able-bodied,” since these inappropriately suggest that those with disabilities are abnormal or do not have able bodies; instead, use language like “people without disabilities,” “nondisabled,” or “enabled.”

Learn whether to use “people-first” or “identity-first” language. Just as with any other group, people with disabilities are not a monolith. When talking about people with disabilities, remember that they are multifaceted human beings rather than an easily categorized group. To reflect this, opt to use person-first language whenever possible—for example, “a person with epilepsy” rather than “an epileptic person,” or “a person with blindness” rather than “a blind person”—to emphasize the individual and avoid letting their disability serve as their only defining quality. However, some communities prefer identity-first language over people-first language—for example, many people in the deaf community who use sign language prefer the term “deaf person” to the term “person who is hard of hearing,” and many people with autism prefer the term “autistic person.” Always use the individual’s preferred terms.

Refer to a person’s specific disability. Where relevant, avoid referring to people with disabilities as a homogenous group—the range of disabilities varies wildly, and individuals with disabilities have very different experiences depending on their condition and other factors. In addition, avoid the phrase “the disabled” and be careful when using broad terms like “cognitive disability” or “learning disability” when it would be more specific and appropriate to mention their exact condition. Instead, when discussing a person’s disability, use words that refer to their specific condition—for instance, as a person with ADHD—to respect their unique experience and needs.

Respect individual preferences. Individuals have different preferences when it comes to discussing their disabilities, and some people prefer particular terms over others—for example, many people with dwarfism prefer the term “person of short stature” or “little person.” Learn the individual preferences of the people around you to use their preferred terms.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Thanks for the question, learned some new things from these notes as well. Hope this helps with your writing!

EDIT 1:

Ambulatory wheelchair users

Individuals who, despite having the ability to walk short distances, rely on wheelchairs for mobility due to various health conditions.

Can walk but need wheelchairs for longer distances or when experiencing fatigue. Conditions like multiple sclerosis, arthritis, or other mobility-impairing diseases often necessitate this dual mobility approach.

Many ambulatory wheelchair users report being judged, stigmatised or accused of faking their disabilities to cheat their way into support.

EDIT 2:

"Helping me without permission is disrespectful. I understand how to stay safe, and I am not a pawn to advance the agenda of others."

"I’ve discovered that the greatest fear that keeps people from traveling is the thought of a damaged wheelchair"

"The earlier you inform airlines of your plans to travel with a power wheelchair, the more time they will have to prepare."

Wheelchair Assistance at the Airport and on the Aircraft

Building a Wheelchair Accessible Carriage

Adjusting Wheelchairs ⚜ Anecdote: Inappropriate Jokes

Helping People with Disabilities Gain Access to Nature

Thanks so much @anumberofhobbies for sharing additional information and your experiences on this topic. And please give the two orange helpers each a pet (and maybe a little treat) from me <3

[cure-icy-writes]

"Well, maybe you just have internalized ableism!" has started to become a very convenient thing for low-support disabled people to accuse high-support disable people of.

To break it down. Let's say Alice is a low-support disabled person. She has autism and ADHD, plus some comorbid gastrointestinal issues, and lacks fine motor control. Her activism focuses on combating infantilization, and proving that disabled people can be strong and capable and worthy.

And then there's Bob, who has high support needs. Bob is a full time wheelchair user who uses a hybrid manual/electric chair, needs an oxygen line, and has developed anxiety about leaving the house because his health could be seriously endangered if something goes wrong. Bob's not as involved in activism as Alice, but is more involved with the disabled community.

Now. Both of these people are shaped by their individual disabilities, right? And an abled onlooker would think, "Oh, Alice and Bob should be good friends!" But this isn't as easy as you'd think. And this is where the intra-community discourse comes in.

Alice is advocating that disabled people are strong and deserve a chance. But for Bob, the idea that he must be strong and inspirational is something that's been used to dehumanize him and disregard his boundaries. He's been pressured to just walk a few more steps, just push through, and while he's technically able to transfer himself independently, it's exhausting. What Bob wants isn't a chance to prove himself, but the grace to not need to prove himself.

So now, Alice is flustered and upset that her worldview has been disrupted. Bob, who was supposed to be a fellow disabled person and her ally, is disagreeing with her. From Alice's perspective, this sounds too much like what abled people have told her all her life, that she's incapable and little more than a child who can't be trusted with things like self-determination. This is when she pulls out her ace: internalized ableism. She says, "Bob has internalized ableism and is repeating the biases of abled people. He isn't one of us. He's not like me, so he has to be like them instead."

And now Bob is incredibly upset. Who the hell is Alice to say this, huh? Alice is telling him the same thing that abled people have said to him his entire life, and then she has the gall to say he's the one who doesn't belong? Well, she's less disabled than him, so maybe Alice is the one who doesn't belong in the disabled community.

The truth is, Alice and Bob are just very different people with different needs. Both of them fall under the incredibly vast umbrella of disability, but it doesn't guarantee that they can relate to each other in most aspects. Alice and Bob are representative of a common schism in disabled communities, simplified for ease of understanding.

Maybe Alice and Bob could have been friends. Maybe they could have bonded-- both of them have anxiety, after all! Alice's anxiety stems from the ADHD causing her to forget things, while Bob's is for medical reasons. Alice feels like she can't talk to people about her gastrointestinal issues because they're gross, while Bob feels the same way about his struggles with hydration versus lack of accessible bathrooms causing him to get bladder infections. But both of them assumed the worst of each other.

[nasa]

For the Benefit of All: Assistive Tech Developed from NASA Tech

What do modern cochlear implants and robotic gloves have in common? They were derived from NASA technology. We’ve made it easier to find and use our patented inventions that could help create products that enhance life for people with disabilities.

October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month, which highlights the contributions of American workers with disabilities – many of whom use assistive technology on the job. Take a look at these assistive technologies that are NASA spinoffs.

Low-Vision Headsets

The Joint Optical Reflective Display (JORDY) device is a headset that uses NASA image processing and head-mounted display technology to enable people with low vision to read and write. JORDY enhances individuals’ remaining sight by magnifying objects up to 50 times and allowing them to change contrast, brightness, and display modes. JORDY's name was inspired by Geordi La Forge, a blind character from “Star Trek: The Next Generation” whose futuristic visor enabled him to see.

Cochlear Implants

Work that led to the modern cochlear implant was patented by a NASA engineer in the 1970s. Following three failed corrective surgeries, Adam Kissiah combined his NASA electronics know-how with research in the Kennedy Space Center technical library to build his own solution for people with severe-to-profound hearing loss who receive little or no benefit from hearing aids. Several companies now make the devices, which have been implanted in hundreds of thousands of people around the world.

Robotic Gloves

Ironhand, from Swedish company Bioservo Technologies, is the world’s first industrial-strength robotic glove for factory workers and others who perform repetitive manual tasks. It helps prevent stress injuries but has been especially warmly received by workers with preexisting hand injuries and conditions. The glove is based on a suite of patents for the technology developed by NASA and General Motors to build the hands of the Robonaut 2 humanoid robotic astronaut.

Smart Glasses

Neurofeedback technology NASA originally developed to improve pilots’ attention has been the basis for products aimed at helping people manage attention disorders without medication. The devices measure brainwave output to gauge attention levels according to the “engagement index” a NASA engineer created. Then, they show the results to users, helping them learn to voluntarily control their degree of concentration. One such device is a pair of smart glasses from Narbis, whose lenses darken as attention wanes.

Anti-Gravity Treadmills

A NASA scientist who developed ways to use air pressure to simulate gravity for astronauts exercising in space had the idea to apply the concept for the opposite effect on Earth. After licensing his technology, Alter-G Inc. developed its anti-gravity G-Trainer treadmill, which lets users offload some or all of their weight while exercising. The treadmills can help people recover from athletic or brain injuries, and they allow a safe exercise regimen for others with long-term conditions such as arthritis.

Wireless Muscle Sensors

Some of the most exciting assistive technologies to spin off may be yet to come. Delsys Inc. developed electromyographic technology to help NASA understand the effects of long-term weightlessness on astronauts’ muscles and movements. Electromyography detects and analyzes electrical signals emitted when motor nerves trigger movement. Among the company’s customers are physical therapists developing exercise routines to help patients recover from injuries. But some researchers are using the technology to attempt recoveries that once seemed impossible, such as helping paralyzed patients regain movement, letting laryngectomy patients speak, and outfitting amputees with artificial limbs that work like the real thing.  

To further enhance the lives of people with disabilities, NASA has identified a selection of patented technologies created for space missions that could spur the next generation of assistive technology here on Earth.

Want to learn more about assistive technologies already in action? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst

One of the great unknowns about the 1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst is exactly how many cars were built. Estimates put the total as low as 485, and as high as 502 cars. Regardless of what the figure actually is, the car itself is a pretty special piece of machinery.

The 300 Hurst is a giant of a car at 19′ in length. All of the Hursts rolled off the production line finished in Spinnaker White. The cars were then shipped to the Hurst factory in Warminster, Pennsylvania, where a substantial transformation was performed. The first change to be made was the removal of the standard Chrysler steel hood skin, which was replaced with a fiberglass unit. This featured a decorative hood scoop and the obligatory set of recessed hood locks. The deck lid was also removed, and once again, a fiberglass replacement, complete with a spoiler integrated with the rear quarter panels, was also installed. The White paintwork was complimented by the addition of Satin Tan highlights and contrasting pinstripes, and the wheels were adorned with the same Satin Tan color in the centers. This Hurst is a clean car, with a small area of rust visible in the lower section of the driver’s side front fender, and surface corrosion present on the car’s underside. The Spinnaker White paint appears to be in good condition, but there has been some deterioration of the Satin Tan paint on both the hood and the deck lid. The exterior trim and chrome all look good, while the tinted glass is close to perfect.

The 300 Hurst was a premium car at a premium price, so naturally, it required a premium interior. In this case, seat upholstery was available in a single type and color. Continuing the exterior theme, the color is Saddle Tan, and the material is leather. The plush front seats are not standard 300 items but have been pilfered from the Imperial parts bin. While the original intention was for a Hurst shifter to be part of the interior features, this is something that never eventuated. The interior of this Hurst is close to perfect, with a single discolored spot on the dash pad being the most obvious fault. The rest of it presents in virtually as-new condition, and as befits a luxury car, it is loaded with luxury touches. These include air conditioning, power windows, six-way power seats, cruise control, a remote trunk release, and I think that there also might be an 8-track player hanging under the dash.

The 300 Hurst was the biggest of the muscle cars, and as such, it needed a big motor to get it moving. In this case, it is the TNT 440 engine, pumping out 375hp. The Hurst also features a 727 TorqueFlite transmission, a 3.23 rear end, power steering, power brakes, heavy-duty rear springs and front torsion bars, and sway bars. The exhaust was a full dual system, ending in quad tips. This Hurst hasn’t seen a lot of recent use, and documentation confirms that between 1986 and 2019, it managed to accumulate a grand total of 20 miles! Since being removed from its climate-controlled storage, it has undergone a meticulous mechanical check and recommissioning, and it is now said to run and drive perfectly. The owner does suggest that while the tires look good, they are pretty olds, and replacing them might be a good idea. He also says that the Hurst may need mufflers fairly soon. The car does come with a fair collection of documentation, including the original Build Sheet and Window Sticker, a pristine Certi-Card, Owner’s Manual, as well as dealer paperwork and other assorted items.

While there has always been some question surrounding the build totals for the 1970 300 Hurst, one thing is certain, and that is that there are less than 300 cars in existence today. Pristine examples can fetch sums in excess of $30,000, and even a rough example in need of restoration can still sell for anywhere around $13,000. This one doesn’t need a major restoration, but it does require some cosmetic work. I’m not sure where bidding is eventually going to go with this one, but I would suspect that it will be somewhere around the low to mid $20,000 mark. Even at that price, it probably wouldn’t be a bad buy.

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] With Every Nerve Alive

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4623 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, brief appearance by Matthew, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, detailed sexual fantasies, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, questionable lube choices, within a fantasy don't worry, no one's really getting fingered with engine grease, sugar daddy-sugar baby fantasies, glass sex toys

Notes: Prequel/bookend to Customer Service. I realized that Hot Mechanic Hob needed Dream's pov to get the full effect, so this happened. Also fills my @dreamlingbingo square C1, 'Sugar Baby', a couple thousand words in. Title taken from Turbo Lover by Judas Priest

Summary: Dream Atelíotes is merely seeking car repairs from a reputable shop; he was not expecting to get punched in the libido by the most beautiful mechanic he could have imagined.

On AO3

~ "Alright, and what're we lookin' at her for?"

"The clutch. Is not operating as expected; I fear I may have damaged it. Somehow."

Dream is grateful that the stout American behind the counter at Matthew's Motor Repairs does not pass any obvious judgement on this damning statement.

"Well, that definitely needs checking, then," he says instead, punching in notes on his computer terminal. "Hob'll be runnin' things for the next couple of weeks, lemme see when he can fit your girl in." He turns toward the half-open door that leads to the garage and yells.

"Hey Hob!"

"Yeah! Just a tic—"

"He'll definitely be able to find the problem and fix you up," the American is saying, but Dream pays him little mind, thinking ahead to schedules and obligations; the Porsche is not his primary means of transportation regardless. It had been a gift from Alex that he'd kept after the breakup, primarily out of spite. He will say, when asked, that he drives it for fun, but truthfully the manual transmission does not come easily to him and the car suffers for it. He is considering selling it, perhaps once the satisfaction of knowing how Alex seethes to see him with it has worn down—

"What's up?"

Dream spares a glance for the man who's just entered through the doorway to the garage, and promptly loses his breath.

—Exquisite—

The man is beautiful, average height and slim sturdy build, dressed in grimy coveralls that are split just enough at the zip to glimpse the collar of a plain white tee beneath. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and when he wipes at it, still with a wrench in hand, he leaves a faint smudge of black grease behind. His hair is dark, longish, tied up in a messy bun on the back of his head with wisps straying loose about his face attractively. His eyes and his smile are warm, strong nose and chin, a few days' worth of beard growth giving him a wonderfully soft-rugged cast that sets Dream's mouth to watering.

The coverall sleeves are rolled and twisted up to his elbows; the forearms exposed are liberally covered with dark hair, skin a warm sunkissed golden brown beneath, shapely and corded with the strength that comes of manual labor, of hefting tires and torquing wrenches. Dream considers, quite despite himself, how those hands might fit around his waist, his hips; how easily this man might lift or manhandle him about in bed, and the heat that has risen in his loins stirs approvingly.

"Mr. Atelíotes here's got clutch troubles with his Porsche," the American is saying. "Think you'll have time to check it out?"

"Not right away, I'm afraid. How soon would you be needing her back?" the mechanic asks, directly to Dream, and oh, the full focus of that gaze is divine.

"I am in no hurry," he manages to reply, voice only marginally dipping down toward sultry. He is here to see about car repairs, not to flirt with the hot mechanic in front of an audience. He is an adult. He is well-versed in exercising all manner of self control.

The mechanic smiles, like a ray of sunshine, and Dream's self-control is tested.

"Okay then, I can probably get you looked at and fixed up toward the end of next week, if that works for you? Thursday or Friday, let's say." He slips the wrench that he's still holding into a pocket on his coveralls, drawing Dream's attention to the lower half of his body, how the zipper on the coveralls goes all the way down underneath, and he firmly corrals and muzzles the thoughts that arise. Later. Let him finish his business here before he embarrasses himself.

"Next week is just fine," he agrees.

"Excellent," the mechanic says, beaming brightly, and Dream's mouth goes dry.

He is so unfairly beautiful.

The mechanic is talking now to the American who is entering Dream's work order and Dream drinks in the sight of him greedily, committing every detail to memory—the brush of silver at his temples, the crows' feet blooming at the corners of his eyes with every smile, the dimple in his chin just visible as a darkening of the scruff that adorns his jaw so beautifully. His arm flexes prettily as he points to the screen with a black-stained fingertip and his voice is strong yet soft and warm like honey; Dream sneaks a glance at his backside when he turns to the printer and finds the suggestion of shapeliness beneath the loose fit of the coveralls. Dream imagines, helplessly, buttocks and strong thighs covered in hair to match those exposed forearms, and barely stifles a whimper.

This man is absolutely exquisite, and Dream wants him.

Badly.

"Alright, Mr. Atelíotes, let me get your signature here," the mechanic says cheerfully, oblivious to the tempest he has stirred within Dream as he hands him the printed work order and a pen.

Dream makes certain that their fingers brush as he takes it, noting the smudge of fingerprints left on the paper by the other.

He glances at the mechanic's name on the form as he signs. Hob Gadling. He tucks the name safely into the vault of his mind, hoarding it for later use.

"Give me a call on Thursday next week, we'll see where we're at," Hob Gadling is saying, handing him a business card and leaving another grey-black thumbprint on the corner of the white cardstock. Dream immediately thinks of such fingerprints against the pristine paleness of his own skin and swallows thickly.

"Thursday," he repeats. "I will call then, thank you." It is Monday, currently; a week and a half is quite reasonable for routine car repairs in a reputable shop, he is given to understand, and Matthew's Motor Repairs is consistently rated with four and five stars online. He is confident that he has chosen well, especially when Hob Gadling smiles brightly while bidding him good day.

It is a good day indeed, for having met such a stunningly beautiful man.

~

He takes a cab home to Kensington, trying very hard to put his thoughts in order and focus on the week ahead, on his business meetings and the client proposal he's expecting on Friday. But his mind is full of brown eyes and warm smiles, hairy forearms and grease-stained hands, and his entire body finds these thoughts far more appealing than those of his day-to-day mundanities.

Hob Gadling lingers in his mind persistently, a siren call warming his blood and distracting him at the slightest provocation. Late afternoon finds him abandoning his office and retreating to his rooms, surrendering to the thoughts that have plagued him since his visit to Matthew's Motor Repairs this morning.

Hob Gadling—

He imagines how the smell of the shop might cling to the man, oils and gasoline and the sweat of his labor, intoxicating and inviting should Dream nuzzle in close. He imagines those hands with their black-stained fingertips, their work-roughened texture, sliding over his body. How might they feel against his skin, his chest, his thighs? On his tongue? He imagines the hungry light that might fill Hob Gadling's eyes, if Dream were to take those skilled fingers into his mouth and hold his gaze while sucking on them, tonguing lovingly at every crack and callous. He imagines those fingers dark all over with a thick layer of fresh grease, the mechanic holding them up with a smirk like a promise, turning Dream to lay on the bonnet of his car—or perhaps bending him over a stack of tires there in the garage, yes—and pushing those fingers inside him, deep and insistent and perfect while his other hand holds Dream down at the small of his back. Automotive lubricant is perhaps not sanitary or otherwise suitable for sexual use, but the heat-of-the-moment urgency of the idea appeals all the same.

He groans aloud at the thought of being fingered with the thick warm grease, the slide and drag and the way Hob Gadling's fingers would curve and press exactly right until Dream was shaking apart with pleasure, scrabbling at the rubber tread of the tires he's bent over. He imagines Hob Gadling murmuring complimentary filth above him—"You look so pretty with my fingers up your arse; bet you'd look even prettier speared on my prick"—as he comes and comes and comes.

Of course he wishes to have the mechanic's cock as well. He is certain it is full and glorious, a beautiful specimen that would fill him perfectly, touch every sweet spot within him and set him alight. He wants it in his hands, in his mouth, in his arse; he wants it any way he can have it.

He desperately wants to get fucked by Hob Gadling in his garage amongst his work, by Hob Gadling strong and sweaty and dirty in his element, vigorous and virile.

The car would perhaps be most comfortable for lying on his back, the better to see Hob Gadling's gorgeous face while taking his cock. He himself would be stark naked and the mechanic still in his coveralls, unzipped all the way to let his prick out. Dream imagines him naked beneath the grimy clothing; Dream envisions chest hair to match what was seen on his gorgeous arms. Dream imagines those arms sliding up along the bonnet beside him, bringing his legs with them until Dream is nearly folded double and breathless with the sweet pressure of the mechanic's dick inside him, pistoning deep and perfect.

Would Hob Gadling pick him up, like so much inventory to be moved about the shop? Would Hob Gadling fuck him standing upright, holding him as if he weighed nothing? He fantasizes about the strength in those forearms and biceps, of the way they would flex and hold, Dream's knees hooked in his elbows and those broad hands gripping his hips as the mechanic would bounce Dream up and down on his prick, Dream clinging around his neck and jack-knifed beautifully in his powerful arms.

He comes at the thought, face down on his knees in his bed with a toy vibrating steadily against his prostate as he strokes himself over the edge, and the orgasm is so intense that he loses all sense of space and time for a moment. The toy is still buzzing merrily when he comes back to himself and he fumbles for the remote beside him, turning it off without yet removing it. He rolls over, brings his messy hand to his face and licks. He wonders what difference he might taste between Hob Gadling and himself, imagines that he is licking Hob Gadling's spend from his hand instead of his own, imagines how those dark eyes and that lovely mouth would smile to see him do so, slow and lascivious.

He turns the toy back on.

His fantasies continue as the days progress. He imagines taking Hob Gadling into his mouth, tasting the sweat and the musk of him after working all day in the garage; he imagines lavishing his tongue all over the length of him, sucking and swallowing and milking him dry. He imagines Hob Gadling's work-roughened hands in his hair, combing through it, clenching tight as he spends into Dream's eager mouth.

He imagines Hob Gadling on his back on the low wheeled board that mechanics use for sliding beneath cars—he does not know its proper name, but he imagines opening Hob Gadling's coveralls while he is laid out on this board and riding him like a prize stallion there on the shop floor with the scent of his work and his sweat all around. He imagines the blackened smears Hob Gadling's hands might leave on him, on his hips, his waist, his arse.

He imagines Hob Gadling bending him over the bonnet of his Porsche, fucking him hard and fast and absolutely without mercy until he is screaming his pleasure, until he is so loud that the mechanic will cover his mouth to muffle the noise and simply fuck him harder still. He wants it, aches for it, imagines Hob Gadling's hands planted firm on his arse, squeezing, spreading him open for his pounding cock, leaving dirty smudges on both cheeks as they careen into orgasm together—

Dream comes under the warm cascade of his own rainfall shower, one hand braced against the sleek tiles while the other grips his pulsing cock tightly. He draws great gasping breaths of the humid air, mind barreling on even as his climax peaks and begins to subside. His mechanic in the shower with him after all of that, sudsy and slippery-wet beneath the spray, shedding the grease and grime of his workplace; his mechanic, pulling him in for a kiss, smelling now of soap more than sweat. The idea appeals, on more than one level, and will not be dislodged even as he dries and dresses for bed. He falls asleep at last to the thought of a scrubbed-clean Hob Gadling on his knees beneath the gently-pouring water, freshly-shampooed hair swept sleek and dripping back from his face and his smiling mouth wrapped around Dream's cock.

He wakes to the sun streaming in his window and lies alone in his spacious bed with drowsy thoughts of being kissed awake, of Hob Gadling's stubbled face and warm lips nuzzling against his cheek, of calloused hands with black-stained nailbeds petting down his sides and grasping his hips. Of Hob Gadling's strong shapely arms pulling him close, Hob Gadling's chest hair tickling his nose, Hob Gadling's heartbeat strong and steady beneath his ear.

He thinks of Hob Gadling following him about the kitchen as he fixes breakfast, imagines his mechanic in a borrowed robe that hits him mid-thigh and doesn't quite close over his chest. He does not currently own such a robe, but that does not matter to the fantasy. He imagines Hob Gadling draped warmly over his back in this too-small robe while he cooks, nuzzling kisses into the nape of his neck, purring about how he wants Dream for breakfast while dragging his calloused fingertips up the insides of Dream's bare thighs. Because of course Dream has merely thrown on a long shirt to cook for his lover, and of course his mechanic cannot keep his hands to himself, and of course Dream would like to be fucked over the kitchen worktop before breakfast.

It is a daring fantasy, this stranger in his home, infusing sex and affection into his daily routines, and Dream wants it with an intensity that is frightening.

He spins himself broader fantasies as the days become a week, of showing up to his mother's summer gala with Hob Gadling on his arm, a mere mechanic brought to an Atelíotes event. He dreams of engaging in increasingly indecent public displays with him where all the high society patrons would see, embarassing Mummy Dearest and igniting gossip that would haunt her for years. He would reward Hob Gadling handsomely for his part in the scandal, sexually, financially, both if he should like. Or perhaps he might offer Hob Gadling gifts and incentives without petty family business mixed in, lavish rewards simply for his affections and sexual attentions. The term 'sugar baby' is very much in line with his thoughts, if not entirely accurate; he is only forty himself and his mechanic had appeared to be in his mid-thirties at least. But that feeds into his story; Hob Gadling is well into adulthood and working in trade labor. Perhaps he never had the chance to go to university; perhaps he had grown up poor. Perhaps he might like to undertake a course of study now, if Dream were to offer to pay for such a thing, in thanks for how well-fucked his mechanic would keep him?

Perhaps he might gift Hob Gadling a luxury car like his Porsche, in return for the sexual services he should like to be provided. Perhaps he might buy him tailored suits, expensive clothes in the latest fashions. He is undeniably drawn to the grimy working-class vision that had been branded on his memory when dropping off his car, sweaty and grease-smeared and glowing with life, but he also imagines how stunning his mechanic might look cleaned up and dressed to the nines. Dream would like to wine and dine him at the finest restaurants in London, put him into a limousine after, open his perfectly-tailored trousers and sample his cock on the drive home. To Dream's home, of course, where he would take Hob Gadling to bed and offer up his body for his mechanic's use—which would be delightfully merciless, given how Dream had primed and teased and denied him with his mouth in the car.

Perhaps he might take Hob Gadling away with him on holiday, show him all manner of foreign destinations he would never have seen on his own; at each of them Hob Gadling would fuck him, in sumptuous hotel beds or private beach cabanas or the gleaming toilet stalls of michelin-starred restaurants, with every bit of skill and enthusiasm at his disposal—delighted to be Dream's kept man and eager to show his gratitude for all that Dream could provide.

Dream groans, dragging one hand down across his mouth and arched throat while the other works swiftly over his cock, writhing on his bed with his shirt undone and his trousers open. He is achingly hard, leaking steadily into every rapid stroke; he hasn't even bothered undressing, so caught up in the feverish fantasies of the money and favors he might lavish on this man who consumes his thoughts, of how thoroughly he could expect to be railed and ravished and seen to in return—

Orgasm overtakes him quite suddenly, leaves him gasping and breathless and wrecked, and still he craves more. His fantasies are delectable, but his appetite is insatiable.

He desperately wants the real thing.

~

It is Thursday of the next week at last and Dream, fueled by his fading ability to recall the precise brown of Hob Gadling's eyes or the way his cheeks crease up when he smiles, does not call Matthew's Motor Repairs to check on the status of his Porsche as instructed. Instead, he drives out, excusing the trip to himself by visiting a local bookseller first and picking up several selections to add to his personal library. He does not linger overlong among the shelves, however; today he is consumed with much more pressing distractions.

He must see Hob Gadling again, if only for a moment.

When he enters the shop, there is no one at the counter up front and the door to the garage is ajar, raucous music drifting faintly through. "Hello?" he calls, but receives no reply.

It is a warm day outside and quite warm inside as well; Dream imagines how sweaty Hob Gadling must be, to be performing physical labor under these conditions. Such thoughts do nothing to calm or cool him.

After only a moment's hesitation, he rounds the counter and passes through the doorway, at which point he can hear Hob Gadling's voice singing along—"You don't have a clue/If you did you'd find yourself/Doin' the same thing too!"—beneath the music, passably on-key no less.

Yet another appealing feature to this man; it is simply unfair. Dream draws himself up, heart beating harder, and ventures around the large sink and cleanup station until he can see his Porsche, up on ramps, and—

And legs sticking out from beneath the side of it on one of those rolling boards, Hob Gadling's legs no doubt, spread wide like an invitation.

Dream stops abruptly, heat pouring into his belly; he takes a deep breath of the warm stuffy air, the machine-and-metal smell of the garage doing nothing to calm his libido. He stares, helplessly, at the work boots and coveralls, at where they stretch across Hob Gadling's crotch, affording frustratingly little suggestion of what lies beneath. And just above that, he can see that the coveralls are unzipped, not quite far enough to expose underwear but enough that Dream is treated to a glimpse of warm golden-brown belly and the dip of his navel, the dark sweep of hair above and below it.

—Mouthwatering—

It is with tremendous effort that Dream corrals his thoughts, steps forward again, closes the space between them and clears his throat to announce his presence. He nudges one booted foot with his own, not entirely meaning to do so but somehow unable to resist.

"Bloody—" The mechanic scoots out from beneath the car and Dream's knees go weak; he is grateful they do not give out altogether.

Hob Gadling is indeed shirtless beneath his open coveralls, displaying a chest far more gloriously hairy than Dream had imagined, a pelt thick and dark and alluring. He wants to touch, to comb his fingers through and rub his face against it, to lick the trail of hair that leads down to where the parted zipper comes back together. There is a visible sheen of sweat on his skin and Dream would lick that off as well; Hob is smudged with grease in various smears across his torso and forearms and Dream can hardly think for the rushing of blood in his ears, the swelling of want in the pit of his stomach. He drags his eyes back up to Hob's face, trying to school the ravenous hunger from his own gaze; he does not think he is overly successful in that regard but there is discernible heat in the warm brown eyes that meet him, and it is difficult to care about dignity, propriety, with reality unfolding so near to the fantasies that have carried him through the last ten days.

He stutters through some explanation for his presence, barely aware of his own words, barely registering the rundown he is given in return, watching hungrily as Hob climbs to his feet. His car will be finished tomorrow. He will have reason to see Hob again tomorrow. But right now he is unraveling, his self control a tenuous and threadbare thing barely within his grasp. He is watching Hob's mouth as he speaks, captivated, obsessed with the warm color of it flashing among the dark scruff of Hob's beard, and Dream wants to taste. His mouth, his skin, his cock, which is surely as magnificent as the rest of him—Dream cannot bear the thought of leaving without confirming his certainties, but it is one thing to revel in fantasy alone in his bed and quite another to actually act on it when faced with the man before him—

"Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Atelíotes?"

Hob Gadling is looking at him, hip cocked and coveralls alluringly open, smile just this side of invitational; there is the strong suggestion of interest and an implied offer in that warm tone and Dream's resolve, such as it is, crumbles.

He reaches. He touches. He speaks his want and follows with a flirtatious tease to mitigate his intensity, is met by teasing agreement in return, but when his mechanic mentions cleaning up first he absolutely cannot agree.

"No. As you are now, please." He steps closer, directly into Hob's space, a week and a half of fantasies clamoring in his mind as the scent of the man wafts into his nose—oil and grease, warm metal, sweat and a faint trace of citrus and a hint of some pleasantly masculine deodorant; Dream's mouth waters, and his prick throbs.

His mechanic hesitates. "I'm kind of filthy though?"

There is a tinge of shame beneath the words, and Dream. Will not have it.

"I am aware, yes," he purrs, seizing the open lapels of the grimy coveralls, and kisses Hob Gadling with ten days' worth of anticipation and want.

~

Dream is coasting on an adrenaline and endorphin high as he drives home, afterwards. He acted. He spoke directly of what he wanted. And he got it. He had spent ten days nursing fantasy and now he has experienced a delightful sliver of the reality of Hob Gadling.

And tomorrow, he will experience more.

Sleep does not come easily that night, keyed up and aroused as he is, but he manages at last. He wakes later than usual the next morning; he eats a light brunch, the excitement in his stomach counterproductive to the task, and makes sure to drink more water than usual. Thoughts of Hob fill his mind, arousing, distracting, enticing; he recalls with a sharp thrill the taste of Hob's pleasure on his tongue, and he is eager to be on his way to their appointment.

But there are things he must do to prepare, first.

He takes an enema, then shaves and showers, lathering everywhere with his sweetest-smelling soap, determined to be the polar opposite of what he lusts for in Hob. He strives for the cleanest prettiest and freshest he can get, the better to be taken and sullied and dirtied by his mechanic; Hob had seemed quite pleased with that dynamic yesterday and Dream is eager to repeat it with Hob's cock in his arse this time.

To that end, he employs a favorite dildo once he is clean and dry, lubing himself carefully and working himself open on the toy, mind blazing with thoughts of Hob all the while. He knows, now, the size and the shape (and the taste!) of Hob's prick, and he is giddy with the anticipation of having it inside him. He is salivating over how Hob compares to the dildo, how Hob will fill him just that much better, what filthy things Hob might say while taking his time over long slow thrusts, how good it will feel when Hob finally rails him without mercy—

He must force himself to stop, hard and panting as he withdraws the toy from his body. He sorts through his glass plugs quickly, finding the one he wants and fitting it carefully inside himself. It's broad enough to stretch him just a little more, perfectly flared to fit just right inside and out, short enough that he can bend and sit without discomfort. It's a beautiful tease, as a matter of fact, keeping him keyed up and aroused as he dresses himself, making him squirm just a little with every step as he gathers his condoms and his pocket-sized bottle of lube and his phone wallet and water, and leaves the house.

He composes himself over the two blocks he walks to the busier streets where he can hail a cab, steeling himself to normalcy in both movement and appearance while pleasure sings in his veins with every subtle shift of the toy within him. He is half-hard, hidden well enough by the loose cut of his slacks, and works to keep his thoughts from heating any further until he has reached his destination.

The cab drops him outside of Matthew's Motor Repairs and he pays, distracted and breathless with anticipation. Hob is there, inside, and Dream is certain that Hob is just as eager as he is for their rendezvous.

He hopes that Hob is just as eager.

Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances, reads the hand-written sign taped to the glass of the shop door. Ring if you have an appointment.

Dream's heart plummets for half a second, until he remembers their parting conversation yesterday about appointments and showing up and fitting in. This sign is for him, surely, a blatant invitation.

He takes a breath to calm the excited pounding of his heart, squirms surreptitiously on the toy inside him, and rings the bell.

= Started: 5/15/24 Drafted: 7/27/24 Posted: 7/29/24

[cripplecharacters]

Does a magic user generating themself a magic arm replacement, indistinguishable from a real arm to non magic users, fall under the robot arm ruling in?

Some two handed tasks could actually be easier just to do with magic, since this character is very skilled in magic, including fine motor skill style manipulation of objects, including but not limited to things like typing on a physical keyboard.

Full arm gone, lower and upper. The conjured arm is a constant drain in the mana/energy of the caster. Obvs the mana cost per minute and negative effect of it would differ per person, but the character in question is not bothered by it unless using large amounts of magic for other things. If they are under serious strain they would drop the spell and the arm would disappear immediately. The character generates this arm bc they want to, not bc of anyone else.

Hello,

Yes, that is a robot arm fix. Also, you might want to consider exactly how much control something as complicated as an arm would take. The character would need to consciously control every tiny micro adjustment of their shoulder, upper arm, elbow, forearm, wrist, the palm, the knuckles, and every single finger and every single joint. The amount of nerves and muscles and bones in the human arm that are required to make it work, perfectly replicating the function, especially for tiny actions like typing on a keyboard, would be nigh impossible if you had to manually activate your muscles and nerves to move your fingers and wrists just so. That doesn't just take power, it takes immense control and extreme amounts of concentration. Would it even be possible to do something that complicated, creating an entire arm to type on a computer, while also thinking about what you're typing?

Sure, it could be possible, but it would be a monumental amount of work and there is literally no reason for it when they could easier do things like summoning spells or telekinesis spells to do what they want to do. Those wouldn't take the amount of concentration the creation and perfect use of a magical arm would.

If your character is powerful enough to somehow perfectly replicate something as complicated as an arm, they're powerful enough to use magic to create accessibility and accessibility is going to be easier for them and for you as the writer. Plus, magic accessibility isn't a magic fix. Why not try for magic accessibility instead?

Mod Aaron

[hyolks]

(TW: BODY/ORGANS/NEEDLES!!)

Yo! So I was scrolling down your posts and found the one about Al’s ever-increasing automail body and how you are unsure how many of his organs could be replaced and… I have personal experience with that! What a lovely thing, to go through organ failure and have it be worth it if I can pass on that experience for the sake of ✨semi-realism-maybe-if-you-squint✨

My pancreas failed. Entirely. I have to manually give myself insulin every time I eat, and do calculations for it all; I can eat pretty much anything, but it comes at a price. Something something “equivalent exchange” one might even say.

But anyway, I basically have a mechanical pancreas with a remote control! I inject a 7 day supply of insulin into it with a syringe, and I tell it how much and how frequently to inject manually. It can inject into any spot on the body with a thick enough fat layer, usually stomach, thighs, the flabby parts of your upper arm, etc… note: I was 90lbs when I first went into organ failure, you do not have to be any particular body type/size for this to work.

It’s a very simple concept for the machine, and very simple/limited commands. You could even combine the controller with it and make it so there’s a switch/buttons directly on the injection site that have pre-determined doses.

Insulin has to be kept temperature controlled when in storage too, so that’s a cool thing you could mess around with if he has to keep more than a week supply on him. (This can honestly also just be ignored if it’s too complicated ‘^-^)

Insulin is a hormone, basically a command to tell your body to do something. So this can be applied to certain parts of the brain as well!

I don’t know if this’ll help, or if you’ve already found other inspirations that conflict with it, I just thought “hey, this Al makes me feel a little less alone in the world, if I can project a piece of me onto him I’d be really happy”.

Sorry if that’s presumptuous or weird of me to do >~<

OH MY GOSH DW DW THANK YOU SO MUH FOR SENDING THIS!!!! I SINCERELY APPRECIATE IT !!! i know its very strange to say but i love reading stuff like this and this was truly incredible to receive :")

medication/suppliments 1000% slipped my mind like i cant even BELIEVE it how much i forgot to consider it. i knew that going through an organ transplant also entailed needing to take medication to keep your body from rejecting it, but thats about where i stop with knowledge about regarding organ replacements,, but that is so interesting in your case with how much control and calculation is needed?? I also never thought about how truly indepth/technical mechanical organs would need to be!! especially since our organs just casually do the things they do and having a machine mimic it is more than just hitting "go" ...!! if you dont mind me asking how does it like stay powered, i guess ? :O

THE PRESSURE THAT WOULD BE ADDED IF THEY HAD TIME CONSTRAINTS BC OF MEDICATION..... OOOOOO.... especially with the temperature control.... them traveling through the desert would be so much more perilous !! I really will haveta figure out what he would be taking, if it were insulin or some almagomation (that included insulin of course) that could provide him the nutrients he would be missing out on because his lack of ability to eat/digest food...?

the handwavy science of canon that allows automail to work via nerve connections for motor control definitely like. eases the load a bit? although most of these organs require more function than just motor control... hmmm... REGARDLESS, thank u so mcuh for bringing up manually providing the body with hormones (and additionally nutrients), because no matter how quote unquote advanced the automail is, it wouldnt be able to actually produce the things he needs... process it, maybe? sure? but cannot produce it...!!

you're genuinely so sweet!!! thank you SO SO SO much for sending this in !! it really means so much to me that you can relate to this Al :")!! even though im probably trying to get tooo realistic with this portrayal (given the fact that al is mostly metal OTL) i dont want to like... not consider the things he would have to go through ? i guess? i cant quite figure out the words for what i want to say, but nonetheless!! <33333 thank you!!!!!

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

the abandonment issues au,,

where Sun and Moon gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss their way into ur heart

and then turn into sad wet baby kittens when u find out and call them out on it <3

(copy and pasted from the space aces discord, sorry fellas lmao)

abandonment issues au:

ok what if. fucked up au time

where. reader is the new daycare assistant or a mechanic or smthn idk theyre working withh Sun and Moon thats the important part

i think it works better if theyre like, Sun n Moon's handler? Bc they r closer that way and it makes it more fucked up lmaooooo

so basically. this takes place right after Sun n Moon had their best friend-handler person leave bc Sun n Moon had been acting increasingly volatile n buggy n rlly just having issues but the more the previous handler tried to talk to them abt it and fix it the more they got anxious abt getting decommissioned and would cover up the problems n act like nothing was wrong

and eventually one day the previous handler nearly got rlly hurt and knew they had to leave bc it wasn't safe for them and they left a detailed warning/report for the mechanics

(and they didnt say goodbye, not out of malice or anything just bc they didnt want even more reasons for Sun n Moon to act up/potentially hurt them or themselves)

so. the mechanics did a total clean up of Sun n Moon's system, basically left their memories but scrubbed their data of a lot of the 'feelings' they'd had- mostly wiping away the feelings tied to 'good' memories, and the only thing Sun n Moon could do to fill in the void of 'feelings' was assign different feelings in their place, so when they once looked back and felt happy or nostalgic, now they feel confused and angry and sad and betrayed bc why was all of that happiness taken from them?? why did their handler hurt them like this??

so the scrubbing of their systems, which was one thing they really really didn't want to have done for fear of losing their memories entirely, DID work in putting their issues on a much lower level,, but it didn't get rid of the issues entirely. Now they're just,, easier to hide or play off or ignore. They're careful around the kids, of course, but they do at times have trouble with their motor controls or their speech will glitch slightly, etc

a few handlers come and go, never staying for more than a week or so- none of them really care about the job, don't see Sun n Moon as coworkers but more like fancy 'machines' with no real thoughts or emotions, they normally leave after Sun or Moon has a glitchy moment and nearly hurts them or, in at least one case, does hurt them by squeezing their wrist too hard. more often than not, the ppl applying for the position read the list of warnings n cautions and are like 'hell nahh' and bail immediately

then. in comes,, reader. local dumbass. most endearing of idiots. a bit dense. very much clueless. dearly beloved

you're the first one to really treat them like your coworkers, making small talk and being friendly and kind and patient and laughing at their jokes. you smile when you introduce yourself, offering your hand for them to shake- not afraid of them or their little twitches at all. god, how they missed that. you remind them of their previous handler, if only in how you see them like theyre people and not machines.

and they make a mutual agreement to do whatever they can to keep you as their handler. even if it means dodging around company rules and policies by doing something like crumpling up the confidential 'warning' forms, ortelling the occasional white lie, like forging your signature onto the papers when your back is turned and making sure it makes it to your manager without either of you noticing who exactly was putting it on their desk.

you've already started calling them your friends the first time they have a glitchy moment. you're doing detailing work on their endoskeleton, really just cleaning dust away and making sure everything looks the way it does in the manual, when they break something- a tablet, a pen, your phone, whatever it is, it happens in an instant and startles you.

when Sun n Moon come to and realize whats happened theyre terrified. what if you use this as some kind of excuse to leave? What if you abandon them, just like their previous handler did? What if you start treating them differently, or you tell the staff that they need to be scrapped

so when you ask what that was about, they're frantic, quick to come up with something, anything that might make you shrug and forget all about it,

"Well, you WERE just working on their insides, right? That must have been something YOU did to suddenly make us do something like THAT! There's no way else it could have happened. Right?"

You take the lie hook, line, and sinker, apologizing profusely, promising to try harder to make sure nothing like that happens again. The relief they feel is almost euphoric. They pat you on the head kindly, reassuring you that they know you didn't do it on purpose, it was just a little mess up! You're fine, friend, we forgive you.

From then on, they dodge blame and truth alike, most often redirecting your attention to something you must have said or done to make something so strange and out of character for them happen so suddenly, and you believe them, full of apologies and careful words and actions and nervous worrying about doing things wrong and hurting them somehow. It's cute, how anxious you can get. It's cuter, how you melt for their comfort and reassurance. 

They play the song and dance with you again and again, weaving doubt and guilt into you more and more frequently. Until one day, you mumble something about how 'maybe i'm not cut out for this, maybe i should switch to be on the janitorial team instead, or some other department, i don't want to hurt you guys, or-or be the reason someone else gets hurt, i clearly dont know what im doing, and it's only gotten worse, maybe i should talk to my manager,,' and they panic

don't be silly, friend!!!! you can't just leave like that, what about the kids, what about that puppet show you had helped them plan, did you really want to just abandon all that?? so what if maybe they had the occasional hiccup, you were always there to smooth it over, who cared whether they dropped things from time to time, or- or broke a toy or two, that didn't matter, did it??? You were getting so good at being their handler, your little mistakes were normal, come on, you don't want to leave your very best friends. Do you?

and you cave, agreeing to stay, and they are so, so extremely careful to hide their little moments from you for several weeks, making sure you don't notice their tiny twitches or split seconds of glitchy voices, maybe keeping a closer eye on you than would be comfortable, watching over your shoulder each time you type up a report about the day, giving the manager a loathsome glower behind your back whenever they happen by,, and every time you leave you say 'i'll see you guys tomorrow!,' they grab onto your sleeve and respond with 'promise?' so you always know that they really, really do want you to come back

and then. one day,, you decide to go looking in their files for something small and silly, like what kinds of updates had been added to their pick-up protocols, and you find the warnings and cautions forms

and you see your signature on them, but you would definitely remember this and you are absolutely certain you have never seen these papers in your life. and you take the papers and you go to ask them about it.

"i thought you said you never had any problems before? you told me you never had any issues before but this- this is full of things that you- and you, you've been having these problems for that long??"

they stumble over their words, frantic, panicked, backpedaling on everything theyve ever said, trying meekly to grab the papers from your hands, piling excuses on excuses 

"you knew? you knew you were having these problems, and you didn't tell me? and you- you told me it was my fault!"

you're close to tears, hurt that they lied more than anything. you keep backing away from them, dodging their attempts to get the forms. they don't know which is worse- seeing that look on your face, or when they were left without so much as a goodbye.

"you could have told me. i thought i was the reason for everything, i thought i was hurting you, and you just... you lied right to my face and let me think that."

theyre putting on their best soothing voice, movements slow and gentle, wanting to comfort you and wipe those tears away and reassure you somehow that this- this isn't their fault, none of it is, it never was, they're fine and you're fine and nothing was ever wrong, and everything will be fine if only you calm down and stay

you can tell they arent really listening. you take a deep breath and turn away from them, scraping the tears from your face. you tell them you're going to go home and write up a report about all of this and when you come back you can go over it together before you send it to management, but right now you're leaving because you need space to breathe and time to think

but all they hear is that you're leaving, and they panic.

they don't hurt you, of course! but right now you're not allowed to leave.

you try to shut out the sound of them crying and apologizing and begging, even if it breaks your heart, because right now all you want to do is go home and lie in your stupid bed and have a stupid cry in your favorite pajamas. but you try every door you can think of- none of them open. you've sstayed past closing more than once, but the doors aren't normally shuttered for another two hours,, and you're pretty sure the night guard isn't even here yet

the entire time you're walking around the 'plex, Moon is trailing sadly behind you, waiting with the saddest, most pathetic wet cat look an animatronic can achieve, for you to turn and face them again

and thus begins what is probably the longest night of your life, spent trying to avoid your animatronic friends/coworkers who are acting like the worlds clingiest ex who just got broken up with and who can't stop dropping sad love songs in ur dms

by the time morning rolls around, they agree to actually go to parts n services and cooperate and try their best to get whatever is wrong with them repaired, even if it means they might get decomissioned. in the mean time, you promise to come back once they're fixed and work with them to help them get back to their old selves- or at least, back to how they were before any potentially dangerous bugs

basically this is the 'sun and moon have abandonment issues and gaslight you abt it' au

idk what else would happen tbh idk why i thought this au needed to exist either but here we are *lays facedown in a puddle*

[stevebattle]

ARTI 1 by Promotional Systems (1987). "His name is ARTI ONE and he is a custom built robot made by Promotional Systems in the late '80s. … I could see that the robot used a standard Futaba FP-R4F four channel 75 MHz AM R/C receiver which connects to a custom driver board for controlling the robot. That driver board was dated 10/2/87 and was made by Promotional Systems for their robots. The custom driver board has the logic for decoding the R/C signals that drive a pair of H-bridges for the main drive motors. It also controls the lights on the robot (eyes and mouth) and the operation of a tape deck. … The robot itself is constructed from thermoformed plastic similar to the way the old Androbot robots were made, but with all the panels glued together. The arms are made from aluminum dryer vents which have an extra support inside. They can be manually moved into the desired position. The hands have a spring loaded thumb which could hold a sign or small items. A neat feature is that the head is easily removable and can be changed, if needed. An example is an extra head (McGruff, the crime dog) that came with the robot." – Reviving a Showbot, by Robert Doerr, SERVO, Jan 2008.

[republicsecurity]

Instructor AV4I5 – Field Lecture Excerpt

“Eyes front, cadets. You’ve all felt the collar from the inside—now let’s talk about what it really does once it lands on a live civilian, whether you’re plucking a pick‑pocket off a back‑alley or sweeping the front rank of a riot line.”

“Key lesson: the MK‑IV doesn’t coerce with pain; it re‑prioritises commands. Your will is still there—just downgraded to background noise.”

He steps back, chin lifting toward UK90F and SX12B. “Remember: every pulse you send writes a signature to the audit log. Abuse it, and the log writes you.”

To punctuate the point, he double‑taps Release. The collar flowers open; LG44E’s limbs sag as autonomy rushes back in. Breath shaky, eyes wide, he blinks—again a private owner of his own flesh, albeit acutely aware how provisional that ownership is.

What the Civilian Feels

0‑2 s: Cool pressure, audible click, mild buzz at the jaw hinge.

3‑10 s: Heavy‑limb sensation as dampening ramps; they’ll try to shout, volume throttles to conversational hush.

10 s +: Postural guidance kicks in—think puppet strings made of suggestion rather than pain. Most civilians comply long before electrical deterrence is necessary.

If Stun‑Hold fires: A flash‑bang in the spine—instant muscle tetany. They drop safe but stunned; no long‑term neuromuscular damage by spec.

“How the MK‑IV Steers Meat”

0. Autonomous Boot‑Up

The instant the silver clamp seats, the collar runs a 480‑millisecond POST:

Handshake with the nearest authorized Enforcer suit or console

Biometric sweep: skin‑temp, ECG, SpO₂, and EMG baseline

Default Mode → Blue‑Compliance Stand‑by

If the collar never hears from a console, it still enforces mute‑and‑immobilize on its own; sovereignty is local first, network second.

1. Sensor Capture (0 – 30 ms) “First tick, the collar drinks you,” Alvirez begins.

Micro‑lidar maps the trachea’s contour, seating error ≤ 2 mm.

Bio‑Vitals Array spikes a 200 Hz snapshot: ECG, SpO₂, EMG.

The IMU plots head angle and predicts momentum. “All that lands in the collar’s SRAM buffer before you finish blinking.”

2. Target Model (30 – 90 ms) “Telemetry pipes up‑link to your HUD or to Command. A control daemon—what the manuals call Shepherd—builds a live musculoskeletal model: bone lengths, joint slack, twitch latency. Every subject is a fresh CAD file.”

3. Write‑Back Loop (90 – 120 ms) “Now the collar edits,” he says, thumbing a red‑bordered icon.

Twin driver coils fire phase‑shifted currents through the pad grid.

Currents ride along brachial plexus pathways, hijacking alpha‑motor neurons. “It’s not pain; it’s precedence. Your own impulses queue behind ours.”

4. Motor Enactment (120 – 300 ms) “Command selects a macro: Step Forward, Hands Up, Kneel—each a bundle of timed pulses.”

Collar’s FPGA resolves the macro into 40 µs bursts.

Muscles contract in the ordained sequence; inertia does the rest. “If you’re wondering, yes, the override signal is encrypted. No, bare skin won’t trip it—needs the suit’s handshake.”

5. Homeostasis Layer (Continuous) “While the macro runs, a second thread tunes vitals. Watch.” Alvirez toggles Calm‑Subroutine. LG44E’s heart display glides from 112 bpm to 72. “Vagus mimicry. Drops catecholamines, cushions shock, keeps detainees upright instead of coding blue.”

[lyssophobiaa]

Quick sketch for Piers’ bionic arm.

Design Features

•Aesthetics: Streamlined, ergonomic design with a minimalist look, often featuring a matte or metallic finish.

•Materials: Lightweight composites like carbon fiber and titanium, providing durability without sacrificing mobility.

•Color Options: Customizable colors or finishes, including options for skin-like textures or futuristic metallics.

Technology

•Actuation: Advanced motors and actuators that enable precise, fluid movement mimicking natural limb motion.

•Sensors: Integrated sensors (e.g., myoelectric sensors) to detect muscle signals for intuitive control and movement.

•Feedback Systems: Haptic feedback mechanisms to provide users with sensory information about grip strength and object texture.

Safety and Durability

•Water and Dust Resistance: High IP ratings to protect against environmental factors.

•Emergency Features: Manual override systems or fail-safes in case of technology malfunction.

Advanced Technological Interface

•Integrated Biosensors: Built-in biosensors that can analyze blood or interstitial fluid samples to measure viral load in real time.

•Data Analytics: Utilizes algorithms to process biosensor data, providing insights on viral dynamics and trends.

•Alerts and Notifications: Real-time alerts sent to the user or healthcare provider when viral load exceeds predetermined thresholds.

•Communication System: Integrated with a communicator on the wrist, the arm serves as a reliable device for maintaining contact with his team. This system includes encrypted channels for secure communication during high-stakes operations.

•Objective Management Display: The arm features a holographic display that provides a detailed version of the communicator’s data, allowing Piers to view mission objectives and tactical data in real-time. This feature minimizes the need for external devices and keeps critical information accessible.

Augmented Reality (AR) Compatibility

•Enhanced Visualization: The arm’s display projects augmented reality overlays, allowing Piers to see additional information, such as enemy positions, weapon stats, or tactical directions, directly in his line of sight.

•Environmental Scanning: The arm can analyze the surroundings for potential threats, detect biological or chemical hazards, and provide alerts for safer navigation through hostile environments.

Electricity Conduction and Control

•Energy Conduit Design: The bionic arm acts as a conductor for the constant electrical energy generated by Piers’ mutation. It includes specialized channels and circuits designed to manage this energy flow, allowing Piers to use his mutation’s electrical pulse without it spiraling out of control.

•Dielectric Structures: The arm’s design incorporates materials that mimic the dielectric properties of his mutated tissue, particularly in the finger joints and bones. These dielectric components help regulate and contain the high voltage his body produces, diffusing excess energy safely throughout the arm.

•Controlled Release Mechanism: To avoid overload, the arm features a controlled release system that allows Piers to release pulses of energy strategically, whether in combat or to alleviate the internal buildup. This system prevents the arm from overheating or sustaining damage from prolonged electrical activity.

Containment and Compression of the Mutation

•Compression Framework: The prosthetic was specially designed by UMBRELLA engineers to act as a containment “net” around his mutation. It includes a flexible, reinforced framework that compresses the mutated tissue, keeping it in check and preventing further growth or erratic shifts in form.

•Adaptive Pressure System: As the mutation strains against the arm, sensors detect any changes in size or energy output, triggering adaptive responses. The arm tightens or loosens as necessary to hold the mutation back, functioning almost like a high-tech brace that adjusts in real-time to maintain Piers’ arm in a stable form.

•Automatic Safety Lock: In the event of a significant spike in mutation activity or electrical output, the arm engages an emergency lock to keep the mutation from expanding. This feature is a safeguard against sudden bursts of energy that could cause the arm to revert to its mutated state.

Dependency and Risks of Removal

•Rapid Mutation Onset: Without the prosthetic in place, Piers’ arm begins to mutate almost immediately, returning to its original, unstable form. The electrical pulse that his body generates becomes unrestrained, emitting a continuous, breath-like rhythm that is both painful and dangerous, with energy leaking through protruding bones and exposed tissue.

•Uncontrollable Pulse: When uncontained, the electrical pulse from his mutation surges in intensity, lacking any natural “closure” or stopping point. This pulse causes rapid fluctuations in his vital signs and risks systemic overload, leading to loss of control over his mutation and putting him at severe physical risk.

Miscellaneous Details

•The arm has a unique serial code engraved on an inner plate, serving as an identifier for UMBRELLA technicians. This code also links to Piers’ personal health records, mutation data, and arm specifications for quick access during maintenance or in emergencies.

•Due to the intense electrical pulses generated by his mutation, the arm is equipped with an internal cooling system. Micro-fans and heat-dissipating channels prevent overheating during extended use, keeping the arm at a safe, comfortable temperature. If the arm overheats, an internal alarm alerts Piers to prevent any potential damage.

•The outer layer is treated with a UV-resistant coating to protect it from environmental damage and exposure. This ensures that prolonged exposure to sunlight or harsh conditions doesn’t wear down the arm’s exterior, making it more durable in diverse climates and situations.

•Designed for various operational environments, the arm is fully waterproof and corrosion-resistant. It functions normally underwater, which is crucial for aquatic missions or when exposed to rain, mud, or corrosive substances.

•The holographic display can be customized to show additional details, such as weather, GPS navigation, or tactical maps. Piers can also set personal preferences, like color schemes or alert tones, for a more intuitive user experience. This flexibility lets him prioritize the information he finds most critical during missions.

•The communicator has an onboard language translator, enabling Piers to communicate with individuals across different languages. The arm’s display shows translated text, and a subtle earpiece can even relay audio translations, making it easier for him to gather intel and negotiate in multilingual environments.