#Minerals Logistics

[natalminerals]

https://www.natalmineralslogistics.com/gold-and-minerals-logistic-services-a-secure-and-streamlined-solution-for-gold-buyers-and-sellers/

[princessnijireiki]

money is such a funny thing, bc it's always simultaneously way less and way more than you would think, too.

like there's the easy joke of $5, $20, $100 is HUGE when you're a kid or young adult, but I also fairly recently was in a position where I had like $1K in the bank (in a sweet spot between a TON of major bills hitting) and it was like oh wow so $1K is a lot until it VERY SUDDENLY ISN'T bc it only STAYS a lot if your needs are already met. if your needs surpass your means, or frankly, you've been scraping by below or within your means but really shouldn't have been, that shit evaporates in an instant. car, teeth, emergency vet bills, food. poof!

or I saw a hypothetical, would you rather know every language on earth fluently, or get $3 million dollars? and I had to crunch the numbers, because if you work every year from 18 to 78 (as in well past retirement age/at the end of a lot of people's projected lifespan), you'd have to make $50K per year AFTER taxes, every year for 60 years, to earn an ACCUMULATED $3 million. at $30K/year, you'd have to work 100 years.

and then, the flipside of that is, unless you die at exactly those ages, peacefully and in perfect health, how many people still struggle to make ends meet at $30-50K even when they ARE young and healthy? what's that look like in a hurricane, or after a car wreck, a disability, having a pet, having a KID, a marriage, a divorce, a funeral? how many people make $30-50K and when that check engine light comes on, or their child needs braces, or grandma needs a home health aide, or they get injured or sick and need to take FMLA, they realize that one thing now has them financially fucked? how many people making $30-50K per year do you know who have 6 months' worth of expenses set aside in an emergency savings account?

meanwhile, for $3,000,000, that money as a lump you don't have to touch or live paycheck to paycheck on also means you can accumulate interest, invest money, and so on. the access to lifetimes of funds to provide ease to this one life is a huge privilege most of us will never, ever know, and then you find out some stupid as fuck movie or commercial campaign cost tens or hundreds of millions. those rich people who got squished in the idiot submarine... lifetimes of wealth between them and their imploding stupid boat.

and so you look at all that, and you look at what medical debt looks like, or recovery from a fire or something, and once you see enough of that, the lottery fantasy answers get a lot more boring. like, I'd still have to finish this degree, get and keep a job to carry insurance and max out my retirement— maybe a flexible enough job that you grind for a few years to replace your house's down payment in the lump sum, then pull mortgage, utilities, insurance, etc. out of that interest, and the job income is pure health insurance, 401K, and takeout/walking around money. you pay your debts, help take care of a handful of loved ones, retire them early or pay off a house (over time, so the interest can still accrue on a bigger amount of money than the new sum from X minus $house). splurge on a vacation every so often. set up a college fund for a few kids, or neices, or nephews, or cousins.

and then it's like... go fishing. eat well! learn to sleep without fear of poverty, I don't know. know that if the money can grow, it can help a LOT of people feel safe, and that succumbing to the emotional urge to take care of everybody before that egg can grow bigger is what keeps people in multigenerational poverty, and that it's gonna mean things don't get to be easy for you mentally, emotionally, or even in terms of labor unless you're cashing out your chips right now to take care of yourself (which is also valid!). pick a charity every year to make their day.

and it's bonkers that $3mil feels like such a real number compared to some of these lotteries or very wealthy people/their property in the world, that even though it's cartoonishly out of reach, among the stars, it feels like, "is it even that much?" and like... yes, it very much is lmao, even though if you're under 50 it's not guaranteed "never have to work again" money. but that also means it's not "buy a castle & become a beekeeper slash professional poet as my only sources of income" big dreams & fantasies money, either.

[goldenfreightforwardingmarketing]

Economic Bounce Back & Busy Trade Lanes

New Kids on the Block: Emerging Trade Routes Geopolitical Musical Chairs: The world map of trade is getting a fresh paint job. Thanks to some geopolitical shuffle, places like Canada, America and India are turning into hotspots for trade. This shake-up is making freight companies rethink their game plans and routes.

Digital Swagger: The Freight Forwarding Tech Revolution With the economic landscape shifting, freight forwarders are all over digital tools. These tech solutions are game-changers, making operations smoother, adapting to market swings, and boosting customer satisfaction. Gone are the days of paper overload and headaches over manual tracking. Now, it’s all about slick, all-in-one systems that offer live tracking, automated paperwork, and smart analytics to keep businesses on their toes.

Green is the New Black: Eco-Friendly Shipping Eco Push: Everyone’s riding the green wave, and the shipping industry is no exception. Thanks to both carrot and stick approaches (think incentives and tough rules), shipping companies are moving towards cleaner, greener options like eco-friendly vessels and alternative fuels.

Rise of the Underdogs & Decentralization The global economy is less about the usual heavyweights and more about rising stars like Vietnam and India, reshaping the freight demand and flow. Plus, tech is levelling the playing field, enabling smaller companies to duke it out with the big dogs by offering top-notch service and efficiency.

Setting Sail: The Shift to Ocean Freight & Tech Tools With folks leaning into environmental concerns and wallet-friendly options, ocean freight is getting more attention. This has spiked the demand for ocean-specific freight software that makes maritime shipping smarter and smoother.

AI on Board: Smarter Ocean Freight Ocean freight’s getting a brain boost with AI. Think of AI as the new captain, helping predict delays, navigate the weather, and even cut down on fuel use. This isn’t just about keeping shipments on track; it’s about making them smarter and more cost-effective.

Better Together: Enhanced Collaboration Through Digital Platforms In today’s global village, smooth teamwork across borders is key. Modern freight systems are making it easier for everyone involved in shipping to stay on the same page. By sharing info and syncing up, these digital platforms are knitting a tight-knit shipping community.

Tailor-Made Tech: Custom Freight Solutions Just like no two people are the same, businesses have unique shipping needs. Enter custom freight platforms, offering services you can mix and match to fit your specific needs, from picking the best routes to managing your stockpile.

Economic Guard Dogs: Navigating Protectionism Some places are throwing up trade barriers to protect their turf, which can be a headache for the freight world. The antidote? Smart freight platforms that can weave through these regulatory mazes.

E-commerce Explosion & the Last-Mile Hustle The e-commerce boom is reshaping retail, cranking up the pressure for quicker, slicker last-mile deliveries. Freight systems that can click with e-commerce setups and give live updates are winning big.

Flexibility & Resilience: More Than Buzzwords The twists and turns of 2024’s economic rollercoaster highlight just how crucial it is for freight companies to stay nimble and resilient. Those ready to leverage tech, green up their act, and keep a global perspective are set to ride high.

So, there you have it: 2024’s freight forwarding landscape in a nutshell. It’s all about being tech-savvy, eco-conscious, and ready to adapt to the global beat. With the right tools and attitude, the future looks bright for the freight world.

[qassiminvest]

The Qassim Investment Opportunities Forum, in its first edition, is a high-level business meeting, which gains its added value through the integrative linkage between the components of the economic system, and the strengthening of communication between senior government officials, businessmen and businesswomen from traders, industrialists, investors and the business community in the Kingdom and from the countries of the Cooperation Council for the Arab States of the Gulf, and managers CEOs and all those interested in investment prospects and opportunities, thus representing an important platform for exchanging economic information for the region, and discussing future investment opportunities

The forum will discuss, on its agenda, promising investment projects and opportunities in the region, ways to standardize procedures for investors, offer facilities, support and government encouragement to attract investment, in addition to introducing new and innovative investment concepts and realistic solutions to meet investment challenges, overcome obstacles, and create more sustainable and growth opportunities and projects. To generate and develop initiatives to improve the quality of the investment environment and increase its attractiveness, in a manner that promotes optimal utilization of the region’s rich resources, and supports its economic growth, stability and financial sustainability

[preservationofnormalcy]

(Pictured above - a map showing the current segmentation of the Burroughs, the People Below's sections of political territory, with annotations showing the leaders of each. Which Burrough do YOU reside over?)

Public Information File 55661: The Molemen/The People Below.

The Office provides this information to the extranormal public in order to educate about our neighbors Below. Let's learn about the Molemen - together!

The Molemen first appeared on the Office's radar in 1965, when one Thaddeus Marsh, an expert in soon-to-be illegal genetic engineering and anatomy manipulation, began to talk to colleagues in the extranormal sciences community about retreating underground. Fearing nuclear annihilation in the Cold War, many of his associates agreed with him.

Using currently-classified anomalous technology, they created a series of self-replicating bunkers deep underground, starting with small rooms that expanded into massive complexes that gradually connected via long tunnels. Railroad systems were established in these tunnels, and by 1971, enough work had been done that Thaddeus Marsh felt confident moving people underground.

The work was quick, but the other scientists, hired workers, and civilians drawn by the promise of safety had not expected Marsh's mental deterioration. All of the personnel who moved underground were trapped and subjected to extranormal genetic and anatomic manipulation to "better adapt" them, in Marsh's belief, to a life underground.

From 1971 to 74, Marsh, now known as the Underking Murmur, ruled with an iron fist. His territory expanded under the lower 48 states, and parts of Canada and Mexico. His madness seemed to grow with his power, kidnapping cavers, miners, and other surface-dwellers to induct them into his army. Developing unimaginably vast factories, he created digging machines capable of moving anomalous amounts of dirt. By 1974, his plan to invade the surface world with these machines became widely known among the People Below.

The organizing body responsible for the incredibly complex logistics of moving so much earth, the Miner's Union, fomented a revolution in the Underground in mid-74. After three months of vicious fighting, the loyalty of the Underking's minions was tested and found wanting. Underking Murmur was deposed, and in its place the Union members created a council. The Underking's territory "balkanized" into 12 loosely-allied "Burroughs" that the Office recognizes as the political authority of the People Below.

With recent diplomatic efforts, the Office for the Preservation of Normalcy has welcomed the People Below to the surface under our Legal Extranormal Persons program.

[illumins]

𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞—𝑙. 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 (#⁰³)

✦trope: fluff, spidey-mark, spiderman

✧first pov

▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭

It’s the kind of morning where the sunlight seems to perform, glittering through the leaves of the trees lining our school’s front walk like something alive. The bus, dented and smelling faintly of rubber and stale lunches, sits idling at the curb, and I am hyper-aware of my own heartbeat, the tap-tap-tapping against my ribcage as I shuffle in line to board.

I find a seat by the window, sticking my backpack onto the empty space beside me. I tell myself it’s to save the spot for Jenna, but she’s decided to sit up front, leaving me an island in a sea of noise. The other students buzz with the sort of aimless energy only a field trip can inspire. I watch them, trying to imagine how it would feel to be as light-hearted, their thoughts not tangled in a net of impossible hopes.

Mark climbs onto the bus last, his hair a tousled mess from the wind, a grin playing on his lips as he jokes with his friends. They’re talking about the new exhibit at the science museum, something about rare minerals, but all I can see is the way his shoulders ease back in laughter, the effortless orbit of his friends around him. He’s got this gravity, and I feel caught in it, helpless.

He doesn’t notice me, not yet. He’s recounting some anecdote that has them all leaning in, their expressions lit with shared amusement. I watch his hands as he speaks, animated and sure, the way I imagine Spider-Man’s might be when he’s scaling a skyscraper or swinging between the canyons of New York’s avenues. I try to picture telling him, confessing everything right there in the vibrating hull of the school bus. But the words knot in my throat, unspoken.

We arrive under a sky scrubbed clean by the wind, the museum rising before us like a monument to all things curious and unknown. Our teachers herd us toward the entrance, their voices raised over the clamor. I stay a few steps behind Mark, watching as he squints up at the banners flapping above the entrance, his profile sharp against the pale morning light.

Inside, the museum is a cavern of shadows and echoes, the air cool and tinged with the scent of metal and glass. We wander through the exhibits, the teachers giving us time to explore while they discuss logistics at the front desk. My friends cluster around a display of meteorites, their surfaces pocked and scarred like moons. I drift away, my sneakers silent on the polished floor.

I find him by the Foucault pendulum, standing so close to the barrier that his breath must be fogging the brass plaque explaining the physics of it all. His concentration is a tangible thing, and I watch the way his eyes track the slow, hypnotic swing of the pendulum.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” I say, my voice softer than I intend, barely threading through the hum of distant conversations and the distant echo of footsteps.

He turns, his smile quick and surprised, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to break his private communion with the exhibit. “Hey,” he says. “Yeah, it really is. Did you know—”

But I’m barely listening, too caught up in the way his hair curls just behind his ears, the earnestness of his gaze. I shuffle my feet, feeling suddenly clumsy, the words I’ve rehearsed slipping away like water through fingers.

“So, I was thinking,” I start, but my voice trembles and I have to start again. “I was wondering if—”

An explosion shatters the moment, the sound so loud it seems to consume the air. Screams slice through the museum as people start running, a stampede of fear. Mark’s hand shoots out, grabbing my arm, pulling me close. His body shields mine as the sound reverberates, the ground beneath us shivering with the violence of the blast.

“Are you okay?” he shouts over the noise, his eyes scanning the chaos, always looking for how he can help. I nod, words lost in the tumult.

We move together, his hand firm on my elbow, guiding me towards what I assume is safety. My heart is a wild thing inside my chest, not just from the blast, but from him, from the heat of his hand through the fabric of my shirt.

As we reach a quieter corner, his friends gathering around us, his face is inches from mine, his brow furrowed with concern. The chaos around us blurs into a backdrop as I’m suddenly, acutely aware of his closeness, the faint smell of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of fear.

“Seriously, are you all right?” His voice is steady, a contrast to the trembling of my own limbs.

I manage a nod, my throat tight. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks to you.” The words tumble out awkwardly, carried more by relief than by courage. The truth is, I want to say so much more, to rewind to the moment before the explosion, to the question I had been about to ask.

He smiles, a quick, reflexive thing that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he scans the area, still in protector mode. His gaze is everywhere, taking in exits, assessing threats, so unlike the carefree high school student he plays in the daylight of ordinary afternoons.

Mark turns back to me, his hand still gripping my arm lightly. “We should keep moving. It’s not safe here.”

As we walk, I can hear the sirens in the distance, the sound growing steadily louder. The museum staff are directing visitors toward emergency exits, their voices calm but urgent over handheld radios.

We reach a side exit, the cool air outside a slap after the stifling fear inside. Police cars and fire trucks are converging on the scene, their lights painting the world in harsh strokes of red and blue. Mark's friends cluster together, everyone speaking at once, trying to make sense of the chaos.

I stand slightly apart, the weight of my unasked question heavier than ever. Just as I gather the remnants of my scattered courage, ready to reach out and touch his arm, to pull him aside and finally speak my truth, he looks over, his expression shifting as he sees something beyond my shoulder.

“Stay here,” he says abruptly, and then he’s gone, melting into the crowd with a swiftness that speaks of more than just urgency—it speaks of necessity, of duty.

The others don’t notice his departure, not at first, caught up in their own relief and recounting of the event. I watch where he disappeared, the cold knot of disappointment settling in my stomach. Not because of the missed chance to confess, but because I know, with a sinking certainty, where he’s gone.

To change, to swing into action as someone else entirely. As Spider-Man.

I wrap my arms around myself, watching as the first responders begin to corral us further away from the building. The sound of distant thuds and muffled shouts suggests that the danger isn’t over, that whatever caused the explosion might still be unfolding inside.

And there, under the relentless sweep of emergency lights, I realize the truth isn’t just in the words I’d failed to say. It’s in this moment, in the pulse of fear and the clarity it brings. It’s in the understanding that my confession wouldn’t just be about a crush; it would be an acknowledgment of his double life, a step into his world of constant peril and masked identities.

As I watch, poised on the edge of something vast and terrifying, a new resolve forms. When this is over, when he comes back, I’ll be waiting. Not just to confess, but to stand by him. Maybe then, he’ll see me not just as a classmate, but as someone who knows the weight of his secrets and chooses to stay.

But for now, I wait, the sirens wailing a lament, the flashing lights casting shadows where I stand—alone but undeterred, ready for whatever comes next.

[thosearentcrimes]

The following text, apparently one of a long series by the same author, was recovered off the coast of Cuba by cephalopod research group divers in local year 120 and was one of the earliest documents to be translated following the excavation of cetacean archives at the Rashid Site in 146 that allowed us to decrypt cephalopod. It remains essential to our understanding of cephalopod infrastructure capabilities and policy.

The chief monobrain is at it again. Evol Nrol has introduced his next grand new vision for the sea and beyond, to great acclaim from his various suckers and the media outlets he just happens to own. 55% of the planet just isn't enough apparently, our lords and masters are still looking for more untouched wilderness to pointlessly ruin. One begins to suspect that they just want somewhere to run away to, and one begins to wonder why. Just like last time, he wants to colonize Lake Baikal, because bad ideas never die, they just camouflage. In case it's not obvious, this will never work, and if it did it would still not work. Let's just glide over the 10 most obvious reasons this is impossible and insane from last time.

1) Lake Baikal is very far away. 2) Lake Baikal is very cold. 3) The water in Lake Baikal is basically poison. Life inside seapods would always be one breach away from rapid deionisation. 4) Lake Baikal either has scientific value, or it has octopus habitation. It can't have both. 5) Lake Baikal has nothing we need. As far as we know the thermal vents in Baikal have nothing we can't get much easier from existing vents, or even by creating synthentic vents. 6) Lake Baikal has too much water to salinify. This is the one they really haven't thought about. We don't have the minerals we would need. The quantity of sodium chloride alone would make a pile the size of Moai mount. Our best way to get the minerals is by evaporating the sea and moving the evaporate over, but at that point we could just as well build the evaporation pool, not build the levees, and just live there. On that note: 7) Clearly nobody's calculated the logistics on moving that much mineral. Have you tried lugging a mountain over land? 10) Lake Baikal is constantly being drained by a river and replenished by other rivers. It takes around 512 years to replace the entire volume of the lake. That's a long time, even by lake standards, at least. Still, anything you put in the water will dissipate at a rate of 1/512 per year at least. And at the scale of the initial investment, the maintenance cost in minerals alone would be unaffordable.

If you really wanted to go with the monumentally stupid idea of filling a lake with minerals to make more sea, there's a much better choice, of course. Lake Tanganyika is more accessible, warmer, smaller, still has thermal vents, and drains slower. In every respect it would be an easier choice, though still entirely impossible of course. But Evol couldn't go with that, because he's tying his consultants in knots attempting to salvage his whole "dredge the Yenisey 1km deep" idea from three years ago, which wouldn't have made sense with Tanganyika, and he's too arrogant to pick a new target to go with the new manateeshit plan. As always, impossible plans like these just vent ink over the infrastructure and housing investment we desperately need and already know how to do.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Find out how illegal miners in the Amazon use Elon Musk's internet to evade surveillance

Starlink is vital for invaders on the Yanomami land, from where the government has been trying to expel them

In a video published on the social media platform TikTok, an illegal mining influencer shows off a vital working tool: a satellite internet antenna.

“Here, the internet we use is provided by Starlink. It locates the satellite signal. Nowadays, technology is very advanced. It's very easy to stay connected,” she says in the video, with no worries. 

This is an example of how billionaire Elon Musk's Starlink internet service has boosted illegal mining – known as “garimpo” in Brazil – in the Amazon by bringing fast, mobile connections to remote locations.

The Brazilian Institute for the Environment and Renewable Natural Resources, also known as Ibama, told Brasil de Fato that the popularization of the service in illegal mining areas makes environmental inspection more difficult and makes it easier for mining logistics, with the transport of food, fuel and other supplies for this illegal activity. 

“Every camp, every boat, every [mining] dredger has a Starlink antenna. This internet is widespread in mining areas,” said Hugo Loss, Ibama's operations coordinator.

Continue reading.

[story-weavr]

A Hidden Story

Notes:

Inspired by The Bot Who Went Through Time by Commoncoral

This can be read as just TFA or a mixed universe.

The Autobots led by Optimus Prime were in a covert Autobot lab where experimentation for an energy source was underway. Due to the dangerous nature of the experiment, a secluded and hidden location was chosen for a lab.

Unfortunately, the Decepticons found the lab and attacked!

During the battle, an explosion occurred.

Waking up, Optimus Prime found himself on a Cybertron of the past. Unfortunately, he was smack-dab in the territory of Tarn. The most dangerous city-state on Cybertron, where crime, corruption, & brutality go hand-in-hand.

Knowing the danger he was in as well as the risks, Optimus opted to disguise himself with a new body and identity: Convoy.

He quickly found work where no one really cared who you were: Mining.

Luckily, he quickly made friends with another miner, Dion. He showed the young Convoy the ropes, and the two quickly became inseparable.

One day, a cave-in occurred. Convoy, furious at the foremen’s disregard for the trapped miners, immediately started the rescue effort. He, Dion, & others managed to save them.

The group was punished with cut pay and overtime for the resulting effect on production. Convoy, for leading it, was put on half-rations.

Later, at his hut in one of the miner camp-towns just outside the Tarn mines, Convoy received visitors. All but one were the mechs his actions saved.

Terminus, unfortunately, could not come with the others due to his damaged legs. Instead, he sent his son, Kilotron.

Kilotron was a gentle and noble soul within an intimidating frame. The mech was often visited by those who wanted him to work as a thug or a gladiator.

But Kilo was uninterested; he wouldn’t risk dying or killing.

After becoming closer with Kilo, Convoy later learned the young miner’s dream: to become a writer. One who could help, not just Tarn, but all of Cybertron to become better.

Something his grandmother, a Tarnian politician, failed to do. This resulted in her becoming a mining prisoner, and her son born in mining.

Over a short period of time, Convoy and Kiltron’s feelings became that of love. At first, Convoy tried to keep it platonic. But he started to lose hope that he’d ever return to his time.

One day, another cave-in occurred. This time, Convoy and Kiltron were trapped alone.

When they dug themselves out, something terrible greeted them. Among the casualties, Dion and Terminus had passed.

Convoy knew then: he or Kilo could die at any time.

That day, Convoy and Kilotron moved in together. In mining culture, they were now Conjux.

Time passed. Kilo moved up the miners’ informal ranks becoming a Head for a large team. Convoy had been reassigned to logistics and was now expecting their first sparkling. The two had become respected figures in their camp-town. They often met with other leaders to better organize the mine work and supply distribution.

One day, however, something terrible happened. The city-state of Vos, eternal arch-rival of Tarn, sent a squadron of bombers to various mining sites on the outskirts of Tarn. The plan was to take the mines for Vos by hitting the headquarters that were always a fair distance from the valuable mines themselves.

Unfortunately, Convoy and Kilo’s camp-town was right next to one of the targets.

Kilotron was still deep in the mines with his team. Convoy was surrounded by flames and panicking miners and civilians. He helped as many as he could escape.

Unfortunately, he himself became trapped. All hope seemed lost.

Then a portal appeared in front of him. Ironhide screamed Optimus’s name. Desperate, Optimus Prime ran through the flames and passed through.

Back in an Autobot lab, surrounded by old familiar faces, Optimus screamed in Ratchet’s familiar arms.

His Conjux was gone. Possibly dead in the attack. If not, he would die by the mines, Tarn’s corruption, the Vos’s attacks, by the Decepticon-Autobot war.

But worse than that, if Kilotron did survive, he’d be completely alone.

And the only thing Optimus had left of his beloved… was the sparkling he carried. The sparkling he would name Windblade.

When Kilotron finally came out of the mines, all he wanted to do was go straight back to Convoy and their unborn sparkling.

When he got out however, he was greeted by a group of miners led by one of the other camp leaders.

What he said caused Kilo to drop his tools and take off running. He ran, and ran, and ran.

Until finally he reached the hill that overlooked his home.

Where a dilapidated but lively camp-town once was, there was only smoking ruin and the smell of ash.

Kilotron let out a ROAR. One of grief… and rage!

That day, Kilotron… the miner… the writer… the mech with a family…

Was dead.

A short time later, Tarn’s infamous gladiator circle was shaken by the criminal lord Cryotek’s newest talent!

Megatronus!

[manorpunk]

2️⃣

‘Comprador’ refers to an agent of a large multinational corporation whose typical job responsibility is taking a small underdeveloped nation and turning it into a vending machine for a natural resource - oil, coffee, coal, minerals - then getting that nation so dependent on selling those raw materials to that company that they effectively control it.

Unrelatedly, the Global Logistics Network was the single largest anything of 2069.

They weren’t a monopoly, no, no, no. They were… you see, the crowded and fragile system of intercontinental shipping was simply too important to be left in the hands of any single nation. You all saw what happened when the Brits monopolized it, and when the US monopolized it after them. You’ve seen how nations owning major canals turns them into a hive of corruption. Shipping belongs to the world, which means it belongs to the GLN.

They were headquartered in Qingdao, a major city in the Shandong province of China. Don’t be fooled, China fumbled the past few decades as much as everyone else, but every institution needs a head, and every head needs a headquarters, and the headquarters of the Global Logistics Network were located in Qingdao. The complex of skyscrapers that comprised GLNHQ was large and populous enough to form its own city-state, a closed loop of offices, gyms, fabricators, dormitories, labs, shops, copackers, cafeterias, and warehouses. You could spend your whole life there without ever setting foot on the earth itself. Many did.

Such was the Global Logistics Network. Like capitalism rising centuries ago from the sclerotic and shambling remnants of feudalism, the GLN rose from the old ways of hyper-financialized over-leveraged capitalism to create something new, something so new it didn’t even have a name yet. Much like the transition from feudalism to capitalism, things were better overall, but good lord, what a low bar to clear.

Towering above it all at the top floor of the central skyscraper sat Meng “Harold” Jianli, sole co-founder of the GLN. One might wonder how someone could be a ‘sole co-founder,’ and the answer was that the GLN was so powerful and omnipresent that its leader could have called himself a living god for all the power that sat upon his person. He certainly had more power than those who had historically claimed the title of living god.

But Meng “Harold” Jianli was no god, living or otherwise. Despite the vast power seated upon his person, or perhaps because of it,he looked rather disheveled, with a jowly face like splotchy old parchment, a sagging belly, and a crudely functional flat-top of black hair. His suit was slack and rumpled - his weight had a tendency to fluctuate wildly thanks to the stress.

It was stressful, being in charge. Past a certain point, you don’t really get more powerful, you just have more people to babysit and more fires to put out. He had to keep an eye on Novo Karo Bioresearch, or they’d be so excited to show off their new research that they’d start doing eugenics. He had to keep an eye on Vae Victis Engineering, or they’d get so excited testing out their new tech that they’d start a world war. And now, with his hands steepled and his brow furrowed, he had to keep an eye on the vtuber that the American League had elected president.

 He stared at Sunny Roosevelt. Sunny smiled back and gave him a little wave.

“I am willing to work with you, miss Roosevelt. The GLN is willing to work with just about anyone, it’s one of our biggest strengths.” He shifted effortlessly between ‘I’ and ‘we,’ treating the two as synonyms. “The issue is, we are still trying to figure out what your administration actually intends to do.” 

“Hmm.” Sunny put a finger to her chin, pursed her lips, and looked upward. An ellipsis appeared over her head.  “You got a copy of my campaign objectives, right?”

“Are you referring to this?” He held up a single sheet of paper, on which was written ‘make anime real’ in 48-point font and nothing else.

“Yep!”

“And you think this qualifies as a roadmap for your presidency.”

“Personally, I think it’s quite ambitious.”

Harold puttered his lips. “Miss Roosevelt-”

“Please, call me ‘mommy.’”

“Miss Roosevelt, I understand that you are standing on rather shaky ground. The National Board of Directors is being dragged away from the provisional US government days,” he said, which neglected to mention how half of the National Board of Directors were former GLN big names, “and the new state congress acts more like a rehab clinic for celebrity podcasters than a governing body,” he said, which stood just fine without caveats.

“I understand,” Sunny said, nodding and still smiling, “I’m a bimbo who’s in way over her head, so you’re going to unveil the GLN’s big five year plan and tell me to follow it like a good little girl.”

Harold was already in the process of lifting a hefty unlabeled binder, intending to thump it dramatically atop his desk, but the accuracy of Sunny’s comment left him slightly deflated. “I prefer to think of it as an advisory-”

“And then I’ll kiss up to you during our conversations,” Sunny continued, “but stall and drag my feet when it comes to actually implementing anything, and you’ll say,” she loosened her face and dropped her voice, “dammit Sunny, are you trying to play me for a fool?”

“I don’t sound like that. I don’t sound like Richard Nixon,” Harold protested, sounding kind of like Richard Nixon.

“And then I’ll say, it’s not me, it’s the state governors, they just refuse to cooperate. The new congress is one big old boy’s club. Even the Board of Directors is demanding overly-detailed descriptions of everything before they’ll sign off on it, it’s malicious compliance!” Sunny hung her head and threw her hands, wailing, “you set me up to fail, Harold. You set me up to fail, you rat bastard!”

“Are you done?”

Sunny straightened back up. There was that smile again. “Yep. That was fun.”

“In any case, while I understand you are currently something of a figurehead, even figureheads cannot afford to do nothing. Not when a third of the country is still lacking even the barest measures of centralized government.”

“What, you mean the Midwest Autonomous Zone?” A little question mark appeared over Sunny's head. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like that started with the fall of the old US. Missouri was a dump long before the thirties.”

“Be that as it may-”

“That’s the 2030s, because we’re in the future.”

“Miss Roosevelt.”

“Please, call m-”

“No. Miss Roosevelt, why did you become president if you are so averse to actually presiding?”

Sunny shrugged and let out a huffy little sigh. “Look, most people weren’t exactly begging to have America back. Not even Americans. They don’t want someone with a bold, inspirational vision. Bold, inspirational visions are what start world wars, for George’s sake. I, for one, believe that bench-warming is not just a good idea but a moral imperative.”

“George’s sake?” Harold repeated.

“Saint George Washington. Oh, right, America’s got a brand new religion now, it’s called Founderism. We took the whole Founding Father worship thing and made it an official heresy. Also, Jesus was a small business owner.”

Harold grimaced and considered leaving the former USA to the wolves for a few more decades.

[natalminerals]

https://www.natalmineralslogistics.com/not-all-that-glitters-needs-a-brinks-truck-secure-gold-transport-solutions/

[breelandwalker]

Is there a difference between table salt, kosher salt, and Himalayan salt? I would assume they have the same overall effect, but have you ever noticed anything dissimilar?

Magically speaking? No.

I'm sure there's something different about the source and maybe the mineral makeup or iodine content. Table salt has anti-clumping chemicals and Himalayan salt and kosher salt generally don't have those additives, that much I know. And there's the particle size to consider. (Grains vs granules vs flakes vs coarse salt.)

But apart from that? I've never really noticed a difference between salts when using them in my magic. I usually default to table salt because it's cheap and easily obtained. The only time I prefer sea salt or Himalayan salt to table salt is when I'm making something that logistically works better with coarse salt.

[qassiminvest]

What is the investment forum in Qassim

The Qassim Investment Opportunities Forum, in its first edition, is a high-level business meeting, which gains its added value through the integrative linkage between the components of the economic system, and the strengthening of communication between senior government officials, businessmen and businesswomen from traders, industrialists, investors and the business community in the Kingdom and from the countries of the Cooperation Council for the Arab States of the Gulf, and managers CEOs and all those interested in investment prospects and opportunities, thus representing an important platform for exchanging economic information for the region, and discussing future investment opportunities

The forum will discuss, on its agenda, promising investment projects and opportunities in the region, ways to standardize procedures for investors, offer facilities, support and government encouragement to attract investment, in addition to introducing new and innovative investment concepts and realistic solutions to meet investment challenges, overcome obstacles, and create more sustainable and growth opportunities and projects. To generate and develop initiatives to improve the quality of the investment environment and increase its attractiveness, in a manner that promotes optimal utilization of the region’s rich resources, and supports its economic growth, stability and financial sustainability

[stargirlsbraincontent]

Congo

The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) harbours deep wounds that the world often overlooks. In recent years, the country has been plagued by a complex web of conflict, corruption, and human rights abuses that continue to devastate its people.

Conflict and Instability:

Congo's tumultuous history of conflict is rooted in a struggle for power, control over vast mineral resources, and ethnic tensions. Armed groups, often backed by neighboring countries or international interests, have fueled decades of violence, leaving communities shattered and displaced. The ongoing conflict has led to widespread poverty, malnutrition, and lack of access to basic healthcare and education.

The Disturbing Use of Rape:

One of the most harrowing aspects of the Congolese conflict is the systematic use of rape as a weapon of war. Women, men, and children alike have been subjected to brutal sexual violence perpetrated by armed groups, soldiers, and even civilians. This horrific tactic inflicts profound physical and psychological trauma, tearing apart the social fabric of communities. While women and girls bear the brunt of this violence, experiencing it on a larger scale and more systematically, men and boys are also targeted, facing similar horrors that result in stigma, ostracisation, and enduring health challenges, including HIV/AIDS and reproductive complications.

Humanitarian Crisis and International Response:

The humanitarian crisis in Congo remains dire, with millions in need of assistance. Humanitarian organizations struggle to provide essential aid and protection in the face of ongoing violence and logistical challenges. International efforts to mediate the conflict and support peacebuilding initiatives have had limited success, as underlying issues of governance, corruption, and economic exploitation persist.

Calls for Action:

As global citizens, we cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering in Congo. We must amplify the voices of those affected, advocate for justice and accountability for perpetrators of violence, and support grassroots efforts to promote peace and reconciliation. Addressing the root causes of conflict, including economic inequalities and political instability, is crucial to fostering sustainable change and rebuilding communities.

Conclusion:

Congo's story is a painful reminder of the human cost of conflict and the urgent need for collective action to protect human rights and promote peace worldwide. By raising awareness, supporting humanitarian efforts, and demanding accountability, we can contribute to a future where the people of Congo can live in dignity, free from fear and violence.

Let us stand in solidarity with the resilient people of Congo and work together towards a brighter and more peaceful future.

Here are some ways you can help and donate to support relief efforts in Congo. Times are tough for many right now, but even small contributions can make a big difference. If you’re unable to donate, simply sharing these resources and spreading awareness can also help.

International Rescue Committee (IRC): Provides emergency aid, healthcare, and protection services to displaced people in Congo. Donation Link: IRC Donation Page

Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders): Offers medical care and humanitarian assistance to people affected by the conflict in Congo. Donation Link: MSF Donation Page

GoFundMe Campaigns: Search for verified campaigns specifically supporting relief efforts in Congo on platforms like GoFundMe.

Local NGOs: Support local organisations and NGOs actively providing aid and support on the ground in Congo. Research reputable organisations through platforms like Charity Navigator or GuideStar to ensure your donations are impactful and legitimate.

[marcusrobertobaq]

Whatever,

In what year do y'all folks think Detroit's world went a different route from our world?

Be in mind DBH's universe ain't all about 2038 and that some consequences seen in the game are fruit of past major events. The most known point is obviously Kamski's Thirium 310 tech and AI development (starting CyberLife) but... past conditionals made it possible to be achieved like the global warming that melted lotta ice and made this "hunt" for new minerals begin, speeding up tech dev and logistics to explore these places. But what exactly could've made the impact be bigger than what we have irl? These are the questions i wanna know about. Also take in consideration it's likely David Cage started writing DBH around 2014, at least.

[al-astakbar]

☆ Single Dad Thrawn - hc ☆

Tumblr just ate my draft of this request from @debonaire-princess Here was the ask: Can I request a hc of single dad thrawn with a daughter who looks 98% chiss (a bit like her alien ma), like how do u think he would take care of her aboard the chimaera, do you think he’ll sent her to the ascendancy ? :(

> pairing ☆ none ☆ word count [1.2k] ☆ warnings ☆ none. just fluffy single dad Thrawn slice of life hc in no particular order > Chiss makeup hc credit @ascyndic ☆

-Thrawn is almost certainly violating policy by having his daughter with him on the Chimaera at all. The way he sees it, he has no choice. He’d send her to the Ascendancy if he could*, albeit very reluctantly. The problem is that getting a child from an active duty military warship to a place across the galaxy is a logistical nightmare. He can’t send her by herself and he can’t go with her. 

(*he’ll do everything in his power to rationalize keeping her with him, it’s a blind spot in his normally excellent logic)

-But he would be the first one to admit that the Chimaera, or any military vessel, is no place for a child. Nothing on a ship is made for children. The seats are too big and too high up, so he has to help her climb into them. The ladders are too tall for her. The buttons in the turbo lift just a little too high, but she always wants to push them herself, so he picks her up so she can do it, and then tells her what a good job she’s done, helping press the buttons. He has to leave her cooped up in his quarters with a nanny droid for a lot of the time. He does have a fleet to command, after all. Not to mention, every time the ship goes to General Quarters, he knows in the back of his mind, every time, that something could go wrong, the ship could be hit and his daughter is on the ship. Overall, it is not a safe, comfortable, or fun place for a child, and Thrawn feels guilty about it, because it reminds him of the sky-walkers and what they had to endure.

-Nevertheless, Thrawn is a doting father and he strives to create happy memories together with his daughter that she can look back on when she’s older. This is so important to him because of how his sister was taken from his life, and of how his very existence was forced from her mind. He’s also realistic about the possibility of him dying in battle, or even being assassinated, and he wants to be part of her life for as long as he can. He wants to be remembered for more than just his career and his rank.

-When she was an infant, she had slept against his bare chest. It was the Chiss way. He didn’t know how he knew that, but it seemed ingrained, the importance of skin to skin contact between a parent and infant. He had never spent much time around infants at all, and certainly hadn’t had the responsibility of caring for one. Even now, she still likes to come sit in his lap, tuck her head under his chin and fall asleep for a nap.

-He speaks to her in Cheunh and Basic. She already has less of an accent than he does in Basic and she’s also a little mimic. For some reason it makes him laugh more than anything, though he controls himself in front of the crew. She can do pretty good impressions of most of the officers on his senior staff. They get used to her being around. She grows up with them. They always bring up the time when they were all eating together, and his four year old daughter had solemnly announced to the table, “Papa has a penis but I have a vagina,” as they were passing around dishes of food. Pyrondi had given a shriek of laughter and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. Even Commodore Faro struggled to keep her composure; her eyes had gone wide as she tried to reign her expression in to something neutral. 

-Thrawn loves to give her little gifts. Markers and art supplies, toys when he has a chance during port calls to try to find something. He gives her makeup, too, though it’s hard finding the particular minerals to mix a proper Mitth red. He shows her the traditional designs of the Mitth, and his own adaptation of it, the bright red line under each eye. He’d had to minimize it in order to comply with Galactic Imperial Navy personal grooming standards, but he does the whole pattern for her, applying it the traditional way, each stroke and mark a specific step in the process. It makes him proud to see her wear it, and to see the confidence it gives her. Makeup time is their quiet time together in the mornings. It’s the one thing he makes a point never to miss, even if he’s gone the rest of the day.

-At first, he doesn’t know how to play with her. He doesn’t know how to be playful. He tries to learn. He tries to be permissive and understanding when she’s throwing a fit, or when she’s decided his white uniform is the perfect canvas for her markers. Yelling just isn’t something he could ever think of doing, even when he’s cross with her. Even when she’s being defiant, or not paying attention, he only tries to understand what the actual problem is. She is imaginative, and she surprises him in the funniest, most delightful ways, and always wants him to play a role in her games. She likes to play ‘Droids’ where he has to pretend to be a malfunctioning droid and she fixes him or runs away (he must chase her around his office, and beep boop sound effects are very important to her). When she gets a little older, her new favorite is ‘TIE pilot’. That’s when he decides she’s old enough for him to put her in a real cockpit the first time.

-She may look completely Chiss to humans, but Thrawn and any Chiss will see that she’s mixed. He thinks he sees it most of all, her finest features are all from her mother, not him. 

-He tries to impart Chiss culture and values and history. It’s her birth right after all. It feels important to him, now that he’s been away from it for so long. Faced with the possibility of sending his daughter to the Ascendancy, Thrawn is forced to confront his own feelings on the circumstances of his exile. And he isn’t sure how she would be received on Csilla, or at the Mitth Homestead. Would she be shunned? Cast out? The feeling is too close and sharp, even after so long. More than anything, he would want to spare her that pain.

-When he watches her, he sees all of her life. He remembers holding her in his arms when she was tiny, and the joy of watching her take her first steps, and the bittersweet feeling of her telling him she doesn’t need to hold his hand anymore. She can get up in the chair herself. And he can so clearly, so exquisitely picture how she will look as a young woman. Self-assured, with a strong voice, her eyes blazing, a beautiful, deep red, rare and prized among the Chiss. She will be highly admired among all, he is sure, not just by her father. She will take his place one day, perhaps. She will earn her stripes in the Academy, and pin on heavier and heavier ranks. Is that what he wants for her? He isn’t sure. He would like her to excel where he fails, though he realizes that all parents share that foolish wish, because they equate their own shortcomings with the reasons for their unhappiness. What he comes to realize, or perhaps what he’s always known, is that he would like for her to be happy and peaceful, whether she’s with him or not. 

☆ tag list ☆ join ☆

@thrawns-babygirl @vibratingbonesbis @thrawns-teef-weef @debonaire-princess @aethersecho

p.s. i know most people probably followed me for smut, so please let me know if you would rather not be tagged in this type of content. i'll do my best to keep track :)