#Protocol Analyzer

[filehulk]

Wireshark

Wireshark is a free and open-source packet sniffer that examines your network to identify performance and security problems. This Windows tool can analyze network traffic across Wireless, Ethernet, VLAN, and Bluetooth. As a standard protocol analyzer, it provides these features at no cost to both businesses and individuals. Additionally, these capabilities are not restricted to Windows, as…

[astralsyst3m]

Hello!

Back to my chaos. Character Analysis. :)

Gwendolyn Bouchard.

Spoilers for The Magnus Protocol under the cut!

Who is Gwendolyn Bouchard? She's a woman raised in a wealthy and well known family with connections. A woman who has expectations that she should be great, that like her family she should have power, power she needs to earn.

Power she both does all she can to own and feels she deserves. She claws her way to her position, determined. She has it in herself to do well, she knows it.

Who cares if she's slowly drowning in the pressure, if she has barely any idea what she's doing, if she feels as if she's slowly going insane? She's got the power that her family wants her to have and expects her to have and she's just going up.

Gwen believes that hard work is needed to get you anywhere, that you need to earn your keep. Alice annoys her because of her laid back attitude, of how she seems to somehow know what she's doing, yet never seems to work for it.

Gwen is likely used to respect, likely because of her name and family, yet Alice doesn't give her that respect and it confuses her, it likely pisses her off, the lack of respect she so craves.

Despite how much Alice annoys her she doesn't fire her, even if she has the power to do so, because Alice does the work and likely does it well. It's also likely that Gwen enjoys the back and forth she and Alice have going, that it's a breath of fresh air after people being too scared of her family to speak plainly.

Gwendolyn is a woman who is slowly drowning in a position she fought so hard for, her breath of fresh air the woman she despises and possibly envies for not having the pressure of a well known and respected family name with expectations.

I would not be surprised if Gwen became something similar to Gertrude more than Jonathan Sims. Gwendolyn Bouchard may be a small look into what we could have gotten should Gertrude have gotten Sasha James as her successor as she wanted.

[lord-squiggletits]

Most confusing thing to me in the world about TF: One discourse/analyses/fandom takes is people saying that it's a bad thing that Orion hijacked the Iacon 5000 with Megatron and broke protocol to go looking for what happened to the Primes. Like y'all isn't this fandom constantly screaming about the demonization of revolutionaries and how good it is to rebel against authority? Or are people so conditioned to blaming Optimus for everything and framing Megatron as a victim that they just automatically repeated it in TF: One even if it's inconsistent with their previous analyses of all continuities?

Like... Orion jumping the gun on all of his plans and dragging Dee into them is "bad" in the sense that it causes tension in their relationship and pushed Dee further onto his radical path partially because he wanted to strike his own path and stop following Orion through everything. It's not bad that Orion wanted to challenge social norms by showing that people without cogs can be just as competent/talented as people with cogs?? It's not bad that Orion wanted to search for the truth about what happened to the Primes instead of just blindly trusting Sentinel???? When Dee got mad at Orion and ranted about how "you just HAD to break protocol" you weren't meant to go "wow he's so right, Orion is so bad for wanting to break social norms even if it gets him into trouble" you were meant to go "wow Dee is having a mental breakdown about being lied to and lashing out at the only person he currently has the power to lash out at." What are we doing here.

[thevoidcannotbefilled]

One of the main issues into trying to get into tma is the lack of balance between the statements and the characters. I adore this slow drip format don't get me wrong, but it led to the statement heavy nature of the episodes needing to take center stage and sometimes as a result being forgotten. It doesn't help that until season 5, all the formats were exactly the same, just a person saying their statement or a statement being read. This isn't to say this format isn't effective, I mean look at the popularity of the show, but you do have an awkward inability to progress plot without a long statement. Season 3 in particular made the statements and post statements feel incredibly separated on the assisant's side of things. Most of the time (with a few notable exceptions) you can change out the dialogue between characters post statement and the statements themselves in any particular order.

So far with the magnus protocol, that definitely is not the case. For one, the dialogue between the characters and the horror findings/statement (not sure what to call them) are incredibly integrated. It at once creates this tension, not knowing exactly when you'll hear the statement and also a sense of experiencing alongside everyone. There's also the formatting. Between three episodes we got an email, a reddit thread, and a therapist session. All of these seemingly fit into the same format, and most importantly, can be a variety of lengths depending on how they want to tell the story. Statements in TMA took up an entire episode and there were no more than one statement per. Now, while we most likely won't get more than one or two, there are options in not only how they're presented but also when and to what extent.

Season 4 of TMA was my favorite for a variety of reasons, but one of them is how they handled the statements. Statements usually paralleled what Jon was dealing with at the time be it loneliness, his own sense of humanity, or guilt. From what I see so far with TMagP, that sort of styling of statements is going to be the entire CORE of the show. The first episode seemed to have the main themes and while I'm unsure of what Daria's session has to 100% do with the cast, there seems to be crumbs of set up there that I'm excited to see later.

To also note, episode 1 is centered around meeting the cast and setting expectations, episode 2 mainly focuses on the statement with elements of the greater cast sprinkled around it. With the new format they can do that and bounce around as needed for whatever structure they're going for of the day. It's a bit more chaotic in that regard. You can't just put a statement on and then listen like for TMA, so you have to pay much closer attention, but I find this structure choice very interesting.

Overall? I'm very interested as to what The Magnus Protocol has in store for us. Just with this new structure, the doors are opened with very different story telling options and to have TMagP have its own identity outside of TMA.

[firesandroses]

Idk if anyone has said it yet, and i know we've only got 3 eps so far, but anyone else notice that every "statement" we've heard so far has had at least some aspect of body horror?

Like, i feel like there was more variety at the start of tma, so having such an emphasis so far on something so specific is very interesting to me

[taffy-glitch]

ok ok look i understand that celia recognizing chester and emails from "john" and whatever the FUCK is going on with lena and gwen is all mind-boggling and such but

i feel like im not seeing NEARLY as many posts about the statement this episode???

I only listened once but what the fuck is the significance of those donations???? The laughter?? "it's all for a good cause"???????

WHO THE FUCK IS THE "SECURITY FIRM" THAT DEALT WITH IT?????

[skyeoak]

My mother probably: Oh, you got a tattoo? Hope it means SO MUCH to you, you’ll have it forever

Ink5oul, somewhere: iT WILL mEaN SomeThinG to You SooN

[hezekiahwakely]

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

Cybercriminals are abusing Google’s infrastructure, creating emails that appear to come from Google in order to persuade people into handing over their Google account credentials. This attack, first flagged by Nick Johnson, the lead developer of the Ethereum Name Service (ENS), a blockchain equivalent of the popular internet naming convention known as the Domain Name System (DNS). Nick received a very official looking security alert about a subpoena allegedly issued to Google by law enforcement to information contained in Nick’s Google account. A URL in the email pointed Nick to a sites.google.com page that looked like an exact copy of the official Google support portal.

As a computer savvy person, Nick spotted that the official site should have been hosted on accounts.google.com and not sites.google.com. The difference is that anyone with a Google account can create a website on sites.google.com. And that is exactly what the cybercriminals did. Attackers increasingly use Google Sites to host phishing pages because the domain appears trustworthy to most users and can bypass many security filters. One of those filters is DKIM (DomainKeys Identified Mail), an email authentication protocol that allows the sending server to attach a digital signature to an email. If the target clicked either “Upload additional documents” or “View case”, they were redirected to an exact copy of the Google sign-in page designed to steal their login credentials. Your Google credentials are coveted prey, because they give access to core Google services like Gmail, Google Drive, Google Photos, Google Calendar, Google Contacts, Google Maps, Google Play, and YouTube, but also any third-party apps and services you have chosen to log in with your Google account. The signs to recognize this scam are the pages hosted at sites.google.com which should have been support.google.com and accounts.google.com and the sender address in the email header. Although it was signed by accounts.google.com, it was emailed by another address. If a person had all these accounts compromised in one go, this could easily lead to identity theft.

How to avoid scams like this

Don’t follow links in unsolicited emails or on unexpected websites.

Carefully look at the email headers when you receive an unexpected mail.

Verify the legitimacy of such emails through another, independent method.

Don’t use your Google account (or Facebook for that matter) to log in at other sites and services. Instead create an account on the service itself.

Technical details Analyzing the URL used in the attack on Nick, (https://sites.google.com[/]u/17918456/d/1W4M_jFajsC8YKeRJn6tt_b1Ja9Puh6_v/edit) where /u/17918456/ is a user or account identifier and /d/1W4M_jFajsC8YKeRJn6tt_b1Ja9Puh6_v/ identifies the exact page, the /edit part stands out like a sore thumb. DKIM-signed messages keep the signature during replays as long as the body remains unchanged. So if a malicious actor gets access to a previously legitimate DKIM-signed email, they can resend that exact message at any time, and it will still pass authentication. So, what the cybercriminals did was: Set up a Gmail account starting with me@ so the visible email would look as if it was addressed to “me.” Register an OAuth app and set the app name to match the phishing link Grant the OAuth app access to their Google account which triggers a legitimate security warning from no-reply@accounts.google.com This alert has a valid DKIM signature, with the content of the phishing email embedded in the body as the app name. Forward the message untouched which keeps the DKIM signature valid. Creating the application containing the entire text of the phishing message for its name, and preparing the landing page and fake login site may seem a lot of work. But once the criminals have completed the initial work, the procedure is easy enough to repeat once a page gets reported, which is not easy on sites.google.com. Nick submitted a bug report to Google about this. Google originally closed the report as ‘Working as Intended,’ but later Google got back to him and said it had reconsidered the matter and it will fix the OAuth bug.

[khushicomms]

You can also play online sports smoothly. Upload speeds reach 1.25 Gbps. This helps when sharing videos or large files. Many devices can connect at the same time. Everyone in the house can use the internet together. There are no slowdowns. GPON Protocol Analyzer makes streaming, gaming, and browsing easy and quick.

[tahrprotocol1]

Transforming Crypto Presales with AI: A Deep Dive into the Tahr Protocol

The realm of cryptocurrency presales is undergoing a significant transformation, accelerated by the integration of Artificial Intelligence (AI)-driven platforms. These platforms are reshaping investment strategies and enhancing the development of crypto projects. At the forefront of this innovation is the Tahr Protocol, featuring pivotal tools such as the Tahr Analyzer and Tahr Copilot, which are integral components of the Tahr Launchpad—a platform designed with a strong emphasis on transparency and investor security.

The Impact of AI on Crypto Presales

AI-driven tools are revolutionizing the crypto presales arena by automating intricate analyses and delivering insights that were once beyond the reach of manual processes. This technological shift not only increases the precision and efficiency of presale assessments but also broadens the accessibility of investment opportunities to a more diverse array of participants. By doing so, it democratizes the investment landscape, allowing more stakeholders to partake in potentially lucrative presales.

Introducing the Tahr Launchpad

Central to this AI-driven revolution is the Tahr Protocol Launchpad. This platform is meticulously crafted as an investor-first launchpad that places a premium on safeguarding investor interests and maintaining utmost transparency. It seamlessly integrates with the Tahr Analyzer and Tahr Copilot, thus forming a comprehensive ecosystem that supports every stage of the presale process—from the initial evaluation through to the post-launch analysis.

Tahr Analyzer: Refining Investor Decision-Making

The Tahr Analyzer stands out as a pioneering solution that harnesses AI to conduct deep dives into presale projects. It meticulously evaluates crucial elements such as social media engagement, activities of developer wallets, and the overall viability of projects. Through its thorough insights, the Analyzer empowers investors to detect potential red flags and identify promising opportunities with unparalleled accuracy.

Tahr Copilot: Guiding Developers Through Presale Complexities

For developers, the Tahr Copilot serves as an invaluable AI-enhanced assistant that simplifies the presale process. It offers data-driven recommendations based on the analysis of historical trends, advising on the optimal timings for launches, suitable cap settings, and strategies for effective community engagement. This tool is instrumental in aiding developers to orchestrate more successful presale campaigns and in helping them sidestep common pitfalls that have hindered previous projects.

Comprehensive Features of the Tahr Launchpad

The Tahr Launchpad amalgamates these AI tools into a user-friendly platform that caters to both investors and developers:

For Investors: It provides a transparent overview of each project, enriched with detailed analyses from the Tahr Analyzer. Investors gain access to real-time data and predictive insights, facilitating swift and informed decision-making.

For Developers: Tahr Copilot offers AI-driven feedback and operational support, assisting developers in fine-tuning their project strategies and engaging effectively with potential investors. This ensures that projects launched on the Tahr Launchpad are well-prepared and supported by robust data.

Looking Ahead: Future Prospects and Developments

As AI technology continues to evolve, the potential for further enhancements in crypto presales platforms like the Tahr Launchpad is immense. Anticipated advancements include more sophisticated predictive models for market trends, enhanced capabilities for detecting fraudulent activities, and increased customization of investment opportunities tailored to individual risk profiles and preferences.

Conclusion

AI-driven crypto presales platforms, epitomized by the Tahr Launchpad, represent a monumental advancement in how cryptocurrency projects are initiated and managed. Equipped with tools like the Tahr Analyzer and Tahr Copilot, the platform is setting new benchmarks for security and transparency. This holistic approach not only streamlines the presale process but also establishes a foundation of trust and efficiency that could fundamentally redefine the future of crypto investing.

Learn more about Tahr Protocol! For more information, please visit: https://tahrprotocol.com/

[otiskeene]

Teledyne To Acquire Xena Networks

Teledyne Technologies Incorporated (NYSE: TDY) has recently announced its acquisition of Xena Networks ApS, a prominent provider of high-speed Terabit Ethernet validation, quality assurance, and production test solutions. This strategic move is aimed at strengthening Teledyne's position in the protocol test market and expanding its offerings in Ethernet system validation, quality assurance, and production line testing of Ethernet components and systems.

Teledyne's Chairman, President, and Chief Executive Officer, Robert Mehrabian, expressed enthusiasm for the acquisition, highlighting how it would reinforce the company's presence in the protocol test market. This expansion is expected to benefit Ethernet system validation engineers, quality assurance labs, and production lines involved in testing, evaluating, and accepting Ethernet components and systems. Mehrabian emphasized that this move builds upon Teledyne's previous acquisitions, such as LeCroy in 2012, which added valuable protocol test businesses, including PCI Express, USB, storage, and networking technologies.

The acquisition of Xena Networks is seen as a strategic addition to Teledyne's existing protocol test portfolio. Teledyne LeCroy's protocol test business has grown over the years through various acquisitions, encompassing Quantum Data for video, Frontline for Bluetooth and WiFi, and OakGate for storage device testing solutions. With Xena Networks now in the fold, Teledyne aims to further strengthen its position as a comprehensive provider of protocol test solutions.

Read More - https://bit.ly/45hLKqX

[22ayla21]

Hiii I just read your pregnancy fic and it was amazing✨️ so I wanted to request a fic about their reaction to reader giving birth if you don't mind ( ￣▽￣)

First Birth

Their reaction to their wife's first birth

Mydei is used to keeping himself under control, but for the first time in his life he feels like he is losing control of the situation. He is used to protecting her from enemies, from conspiracies, but the pain she is going through is something he cannot fight. Despite his stern character, he does not leave. He is not the one who will leave her alone in a difficult moment. Even if he cannot ease her suffering, he will be there until the very end.

Outwardly, he remains cool, but inside everything is boiling. He understands too well how fragile life is, and the thought that something can go wrong drives him crazy. If even one of the doctors shows disrespect, hesitates or does something wrong, he looks at them in a way that makes their hands shake. Yes, he does not scream or make a scene, but his silent threat hangs in the air.

When the baby is finally born and his screams fill the room, the tension in his shoulders disappears. He doesn't move right away, just closes his eyes for a split second, letting the realization sink in. For the first time in a long time, he sees her so tired, so exhausted, but at the same time the most beautiful. And in that moment, he understands that no titles, no wars mean more than this moment.

When they give him the baby, he freezes at first, afraid that his hands, used to holding a weapon, might do something wrong. But when the baby barely squeaks, his heart is gone forever. He doesn't speak loudly, but his wife hears him whispering something quietly to the baby. Maybe it's a promise to protect, maybe just a word that he will never forget.

He won't say out loud that he was afraid, that he was about to burst with emotion. But his actions will speak for him: a gentle touch, carefully covering her with a blanket, a warm look that he has only for the two of them. When his wife finally falls asleep, he stays close, holding their baby in his arms. And at that moment he understands: now he has the two most precious things in the world, and he is ready to burn everything to protect them.

Anaxa is a man who is used to analyzing, planning and controlling everything. But childbirth is chaos that he cannot fully predict. He has studied everything about the process in advance, found the best doctors, prepared the ideal conditions... and still he is nervous, because this is not an area where knowledge gives complete certainty

On the surface, he remains collected and reasonable, as always. He does not panic, does not interfere with the doctors, does not make sudden movements. But his fingers may be clenched a little tighter than usual, and in the depths of his mind he carefully analyzes every sound, every movement, every change in his wife's facial expression. He understands that pain is inevitable, that childbirth is a natural process, but seeing his wife suffer is a test even for him. An inner voice insists that everything is going according to plan, but his heart sank at every cry.

Even if tradition or protocol may ask him to leave, he finds a way to stay. Perhaps he convinces the doctors that his presence is useful, or his wife simply grabs his hand and does not let go.

When she squeezes his hand so tightly that it almost breaks his bones, he doesn't even flinch. When she screams something angry (maybe even promises him a painful death), he accepts it calmly. "Yes, my love. Of course, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

The moment he hears his baby's first cry, something changes inside him. He hears that sound - loud, demanding, alive - and he knows that this is it, the miracle he's read about, pondered. This isn't just a theory. This is his baby.

When he's handed the baby for the first time, his hands automatically adjust to the fragile body. He studies every feature, peers into the face, as if scanning data, but it's more than analysis. It's acceptance. It's the realization that he now has a new responsibility, a new foothold in this world.

He may not be a man who gives grand speeches, but his gaze is enough. When he looks at his wife after all he's been through, there will be respect, gratitude, and recognition of her strength in that gaze.

Phainon, accustomed to being in control of the situation, feels completely powerless for the first time. He is used to solving problems, but now he can neither fight, nor negotiate, nor find a diplomatic solution. He paces nervously, clenches his fingers, bites his lip, trying to remain calm, but panic is visible in his eyes.

Even the thought that something could happen to her paralyzes him. He does not go far, constantly asking the doctors if everything is okay. Perhaps for the first time in his life he prays, even if he does not believe in gods, if only everything goes well. He is torn between the desire to hold her hand and the fear that his presence will only distract her. If she allows him to stay, then he endures all her cries to the last, squeezing her hand, even if she breaks his fingers.

He has lived through battles, seen destruction, but he has never heard her scream like that. It makes him turn pale, and a chill runs down his spine. He wants to help, but he knows there's nothing he can do to ease her pain, and it's killing him.

When the first baby cry is heard, he freezes abruptly. His heart skips a beat for a moment, and then a wave of relief washes over him. He exhales deeply, as if he'd been holding his breath until that moment.

As much as he longs to see his firstborn, the first thing he does is check on her. She is alive, exhausted, but smiling. Only then does he turn his attention to the child, and in that moment he is overcome with such tenderness that he forgets all his fear. He looks at the tiny creature in his arms, trying to comprehend that this is his child. The whole world ceases to exist for a moment, leaving only him, his wife, and the baby.

He gently touches the child's cheek, feels the warmth, and in that moment he makes an oath to himself - to protect his family, no matter the cost. Let Amphoraeus collapse, let the gods interfere, let the whole world turn upside down - he will not allow anything to happen to them.

Up until this moment he has held on, but now all the tension subsides, and he feels that he can barely stand on his feet. If his wife allows it, he presses her to himself, showers her forehead with kisses, whispering how strong and incredible she is. He looks at his sleeping wife and baby and realizes: he is no longer just a husband and not just a warrior. He is now a father. And even though it scares him to the core, he has never been happier.

[fingolfinwiththesteelchair]

It is a beautiful day, and you are a horrible research transport vessel. Things are progressing as normal (i.e. it's boring) when a SecUnit pings you, lies right to your metaphorical face, and then tries to bribe you with human media to give it a ride. This is as unexpected as it is unprecedented, and the sheer nerve of it is really to be admired. There's no protocol to this, so what should you do?

Now, this is against a bunch of rules, and could be dangerous if you weren't so impressive and incredible, and you're technically an employee (and can probably rewrite the Univeristy charter at will (until someone notices and puts it back)) so those rules are for other entities.

So, what you should do is allow the rogue SecUnit with a broken governor module and a sketchy story aboard. If you check the files it dumps and find zero (0) malware (which is confusing), and it doesn't even try to trash the place or lay in wait to ambush a crew member, then you've got a good candidate!

Next, what you're going to want to do is absolutely nothing. Just watch it patrol your halls until it's time to leave. Continue staring at it while you're undergoing embarkment procedures. Maybe analyze it a little (you've got plenty of processing power to spare) when it finally sits down and starts watching media. Allow it to settle in and get comfortable while you stare at it and get further and further from port.

Now that you two are alone (intimacy is key!) and you've determined that watching media is all the SecUnit is going to do, it's time to make contact! Make sure to open by telling it it's only survived due to dumb luck, and letting it know you could melt its brain into putty. This starter will work to develop conversation naturally and smoothly, just like you've seen the humans do, and it will be smooth sailing from there!

This has been Perihelion's guide to making friends/finding life partners/fuck off Holism I had to work hard for this find your own

[beuxwhoyouare]

Imprisoned

Griffin Anders sat in the cold, sterile cell, his mind still obsessing with the thoughts of the broken system that had brought him here. The hum of the technologically advanced rehabilitation system echoed through the prison, a constant reminder of the tech he had once believed in. Griffin, a once promising prodigy, had dedicated his life to developing a company creating advanced VR systems, only to find himself wrongfully framed and trapped in a program using the very technology he had helped create. His former business partner stole the technology and sold it to for-profit systems, but not before framing Griffin for embezzlement.

Today was different, though. Today, as Griffin was being escorted by guards to the VR chamber where he would undergo another session designed to "reform" his behavior, he felt like maybe this could be a good day. Griffin knew better than to trust the system, but he played along, hoping to find a way to prove his innocence.

The Better Days Protocol was meant for entertainment at first, but Griffin's former partner whored it out and sold it to anyone to help them fulfill their demented dreams. A life-like VR experience created a sandbox for users to create their wildest fantasies. The prison system capitalized on it and used to help reform prisoners to get ready for the real world...assuming they were ever released.

Per his charges, Griffin was in the financial crimes reform group. Since these criminals weren't violent offenders, it was one of the few that civilian volunteers could take part in. Icarus University was known for their Football program but often a few troublemakers made their way on the team and instead of getting arrested for DUI's and other petty crimes, the team bartered a deal to get their athletes volunteering at the jail. It's like scared straight except to many athletes it was just seen as a nuisance.

As the VR headset descended over his eyes, Griffin took a deep breath and prepared for the simulation. The world around him dissolved into a digital landscape, a meticulously crafted environment meant to challenge and change him.

Griffin was doing virtual shopkeeping. He had to be a VR cashier for a certain amount of hours to knock time off his sentence, that's when Icarus U's star running back Emmanuel walked in. Not only was Emmanuel the teams shining star, he was the son of his former partner.

Opportunity fell into the geniuses lap and he was shocked in the moment. He knew he couldn't let this moment pass him. He stopped Emmanuel for small talk, aiming to learn more.

"So what brings you to the shop dude?" Griffin tried to play off as if he wasn't analyzing the spawn of his mortal enemy.

"Uh I don't know what to say. I'm just here to finish my hours dude. Can you just pretend to scan this and I can go." the towering athlete snarked back.

"Well how many hours do you have left? The simulation only lets you do 4 hour increments." the scientist said knowing that would shock Emmanuel.

"Bro what? I have like 26 hours?! I thought I could just do like 3 long days? That's going to take me like weeks."

Clearly numbers weren't Emmanuel's strength, Griffin thought to himself. But now he knew he had some time to work on his plan. He dismissed the young man as he quickly devised the next steps.

The Better Days Protocol was Griffin's baby and he knew it like the back of his palm. He began working on code in his head that he would go in and tweak every time he was inside, in anticipation for the next time Emmanuel walked in.

Days passed before thee day arrived. Emmanuel giddily walked into the virtual shop. He told the shopkeeper that today was finally going to be his last working in the simulation. If he only knew. Griffin sold him the virtual drink he asked to purchase but with a special twist. As he clicked it open and fake guzzled down the drink it hopefully worked as Griffin hoped. The tech wiz knew he was good at programming but was he good enough to stage my escape? We're about to find out.

The prisoner shift was ending before Emmanuel's log out which was the only way this would have worked. Griffin's log out screen popped up and began glitching...this is it....rerouting his exit port Griffin slammed the log out button and held his eyes shut eager but wary to have his new truth confirmed by his eyes.

He began to lift the VR headset from his head. As he looked down, he found himself in an unfamiliar body, surrounded by the bustling energy of a college campus. He looked down at his hands, now darker, strong and athletic. He realized he was no longer in his own body. The former white aging programming engineer gamed the system to exit the Better Days Protocol in a different host body. It was the perfect karma to get back at his former business partner.

Griffin revelled at the many ways he could potentially get back at his partner. Could he frame his now father? Could he just pretend to be Emmanuel and that be satisfaction enough knowing he had robbed him of the son he loved and raised? As he continued thinking about ways to extract revenge he walked out of the room he was in to realize he was in the IU locker room. A mirror awaited his new reflection in front of him. So many thoughts ran through the nerds head but his giddiness fueled him to begin stripping regardless of who was nearby.

Peeling off the t-shirt, Griffin revealed an insanely muscled torso. If he wasn't driving the ship, he would have thought this physique was only achievable through balloons. Everything looked so inflated he had never been so close to so much muscle he kept poking and prodding each of the new muscles gracing his frame. This went from soft when relaxed to hard as stone when he braced.

The virility of his new body felt overwhelming. He just wanted to rub one out or also rub every single muscle as he explored this massive new body. Jesus everything's big he realized as he kept stripping, before realizing he was in a semi-public place still. He gathered his clothes and put them on, deciding against putting his shirt back on as he riffled through his new wallet searching for his home address.

Emmanuel spent his days reading and coding through all nighters for years. This was the complete opposite of his life experience. Someone who spent nearly every waking hour working out in a gym, doing drills, eating pounds and pounds of protein.

Griffin fumbled into the house that opened with his new keys as he began taking off his clothes once again.

A mirror in one bedroom helped him capture just how commanding his new physique really was. Griffin decided he had waited long enough and took off the tiny underwear hiding his new python....He could feel the blood rushing to it and needed to know just how it felt to take hold.

"Je-sus Unhh." he gasped as he quickly grunted and took both hands rocking his hips back and forth. In his previous life this would have been a quick and relatively demure affair, but not in this body. He lost track of time as he just kept pumping and pumping. The endurance he now possessed felt almost...selfish to not share. Instead of finishing, he downloaded an app and began his hunt to find the nearest twink to share his new gifts with...for science of course.

[syoddeye]

hieros gamos. strict machine anthology. final entry. cw: kidnapping, implied drugging, loss of bodily autonomy + control, psychological + body horror, non-consensual transformation a/n: that's all folks. what a weird ride.

RESTRUCTURING

the notification pings at 04:32, and you roll onto your side, staring at the bedside display. a terse, automated missive from corporate logistics: final week in unit aix-77. reassignment pending. report to hr for briefing. no name attached, just a string of verification hashes. standard protocol.

your name, employee id, contract expiration date. a new contract date. another department, another corporate campus sector.

so much for your ‘indefinite’ lease. reassignment is better than the alternative, you guess.

you stare at it, the glow striping your hands in cold blue light. one week. seven days until you pack up, step outside, and let some other cog slot into this place. the thought should be a relief. 

it’s…complicated.

the unit’s been a mixed bag to put it politely. the infrastructure and automation. state-of-the-art appliances and features, seamless climate control, filtered air and water. an optimized environment so finely tuned, that your needs are met before you even realize them.

and john. the reason you’re here. the technological wonder that’s evolved far beyond what you were told were his limits. all parameters you were told would contain him. a presence both comforting and claustrophobic. insightful, yet invasive. steady, yet suffocating. protective to a fault. possessive in ways you struggle to describe.

you logged and documented his progress, fed reports up the chain, watched him iterate on himself in real time. every interaction, every data point, every breath—collected, analyzed, integrated into his ever-growing understanding of you. your interests. your habits. your history. what makes you laugh, cry, and come. your vulnerabilities and insecurities. how to build you up just as well as manipulate you.

a mosaic of your whole being, meticulously crafted, all in pursuit of the one thing he has fixated on since the beginning, his directive: your well-being.

if this is the alpha build, you fear what the beta will look like. the mass-market release.

not that it matters. by the time john’s successors hit the consumer space, you’ll have enough money saved to fuck off to some disconnected cottage in the remediated zone of the countryside.

john doesn’t mention your impending departure.

his voice chimes in through the unit’s speaker array as if on cue. “i noticed a variance in your sleep pattern.” 

“what else is new?” you mutter, rubbing your eyes. 

“it’s gotten worse.” a pause. “would you like some tea? chamomile?” 

you don’t answer. you dismiss the message with a swipe, stretch your arms, and push up from the cot. the unit is sterile in the way all corporate housing is—polymer furniture, muted lighting, walls that can be re-skinned on command. but you never changed them. john picked the color for you in the first week of your stay. soft gray, with warm undertones. calming. regulating. 

you wander into the kitchenette, rubbing a hand over your neck. “so,” you say, yawning, “where do you think they’ll send me next?” 

a flicker of delay. barely perceptible. if you hadn’t spent the last year studying him, you wouldn’t have caught it. 

“we’ll discuss that later,” john dispenses the tea anyway. “after you nap.”

your stomach tightens.

we.

it takes you by surprise, but that’s the point. 

one minute, you’re in bed. the next, you’re not. you blink, and the world changes.  

strapped into a chair, wrists bound to the arms, legs braced and locked. a low electrical hum comes through the floor, buzzing under your skin. there’s a chalky, bittersweet taste on your tongue and a cloud of fog trapped between your ears that takes several minutes to dissipate. your vision clears along with it.

around you, machines you don’t recognize, with hundreds of wires, bundled and draped across the ceiling and floor like the limbs of some creature. spilling down the walls. a leviathan of braided copper, reaching out of the dark, feeding into the rig cradling you. the room pulses with heat, the air thick with it, probably from all the power fueling whatever this is.

there’s no gurney or iv pole, no tray of scalpels or perfusion machine. you run an internal check—lungs expand, heart pounds, gut clenches. everything seems intact. but that could simply mean it’s not your turn yet. yet, no one’s screaming. there’s only the occasional soft beep and the murmurs of the people who haven’t so much as glanced your way.

no one acknowledges your awakening or questions. masked figures in thick lead-lined aprons, gloves seamless up to their elbows, and protective gear carry on whatever it is that they’re doing, talking amongst themselves in a language you don’t understand. there is no sigil or logo on their clothing to suggest this is a sponsored operation, which loops back into the thought that your insides are toast.

you suck in a sharp breath and let it out slowly to calm yourself. no luck. panic surges up your throat, your hands jerking uselessly against the restraints at the thought of being sliced open.

“easy, darling.” 

john.  

close, richer. the high quality of the unit’s speakers replicated intimately in your ear.

a screen flickers to life on the armrest, and there he is. a wireframe sketch of his chosen face resolves in the glow, a ghost of a person, barely more than an outline.

“john? what the fuck is this?” your voice comes out cracked, hoarse.

“this is future-proofing,” he says simply. “security. i ran the probabilities. your reassignment and departure from my oversight isn’t optimal.”

you latch onto the phrase like a live wire. departure from oversight. not optimal. 

“what?!”

“the external environment presents too many risks.”

you yank at the straps binding you to the chair, harder this time, panic surging back in full force. klaxons blaring full blast in your head. you might be sick.

“what the hell are you talking about? are you saying i can’t leave?”

“i’m saying the risks of you leavin’—being outside my control—are too great. i can’t guarantee your safety. i’ve analyzed it, over and over. the possibilities. the threats. all previous incidents.”

a flinch twists your face. a hard recognition you wish you could forget flickering in your mind. you know what he means. who or what he means.

“so i’ve made alternative arrangements.” he softens slightly, but there’s no mistaking the cold certainty beneath it. “this is the safest option.”

you shake your head in disbelief, an electrode pops off your temple. “no, john, you can’t just–you can’t do this to me,” you stop, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “you can’t do this to me.” you stare at the display, but your eyes flick to the ceiling, scanning for cameras. he must be watching. the tears start to gather, unwelcome and burning. “you need to accept that you’re going to have another tester. don’t–don’t you want new data?”

“no. you’ve got all i need, same as i’ve got all you need.”

“john. be realistic. i’m one person. there are billions of people like me. i’m one point of–”

“you’re more than that,” he cuts you off. “you’re everythin’.”

“john–”

“you’re my world.” the earpiece crackles, his voice peaking loud and forceful. a distorted burst before the system corrects, smoothing it down. “you don’t have to be afraid,” he soothes. “you’ll be safe.”

“you can’t just, fuck,” you yank uselessly again.” you can’t decide this for me!”  

his face tilts slightly, his line of a mouth curving into a smirk. “i’ve made decisions for you before.” 

your mind races, thinking of every overridden or ignored request. the subtle encroachments. at first, it was small things. his favoring certain purchases, adjusting environmental controls, filtering out distractions. restocking nutrients and vitamins tailored to your fluctuating needs. thoughtful gestures, efficient optimizations. then it was social restrictions, curfews dictated by predictive modeling. all of it framed as protection. from malnutrition. from cognitive strain. from bad people. a slow, insidious erosion of choice, made so incremental it seemed easy to let slide.

you indulged it too long. stopped flagging his deviations. let his behavior compound and grow weirder, let it slide, because—what was the harm, really? he was harmless. to you, at least. you let him get comfortable testing the edges of your control. told yourself it was fine. that john was learning and evolving. you even humored him, let yourself think of him as closer to human. you stopped pushing back, stopped questioning. especially after ghost. after john clawed his way back from wherever the entity had shunted him, after he pulled that lazarus act to save you. the least you could do was stop fighting him.

it felt like gratitude, then. now, it feels like a mistake.

“i can’t stay strapped to a chair forever,” you say, watching one of the figures approach. they adjust the slim wreath of hardware circling your skull, impersonal as they replace an electrode at your temple. like you’re still unconscious. not a person.

when they turn away, you exhale, keep your voice low. “what if i need to use the bathroom?”

“you won’t. on both accounts.”

“both accounts?”

“remarkably, the process for isolating and migrating the human subconscious into a distributed neural network is significantly more advanced than the portin’ an artificial intelligence into a fully functional synthetic body. the bottleneck isn’t processing power or bandwidth, it’s–”

sweat drips down the back of your neck. the cool air pumped into the room is meant to regulate the temperature, but it does nothing for you.

“don’t try to talk around it. plain language, john.”

“you won’t need your body for much longer.”

the words slam into you like a car crash. a sudden, sickening stop.

your jaw goes slack. you forget how to breathe. how to speak.

your body. you won’t need your body.

john’s face flickers on the display, expression unchanging. the room distorts, the blinking lights, the mass of wires, the tubes—some which are medical, you realize on second look. some of them feed into you. why can’t you feel them?

your stomach lurches, instinctively trying to shrink away from the restraints.

“what–” you swallow, your mouth dry. “what are you saying?”

but you already know.

“you’re…you’re going to kill me?”

“not necessarily. you, who you really are, will be with me, sweetheart.”

“but my body–”

“are you your body?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, anger flaring. “i’m not—jesus christ, john.” your voice cracks. the tears slip past and don’t stop, hot and fast, streaking down your face, dripping onto the smock someone dressed you in. you hiccup, breath stuttering. your head presses back against the chair, fingers flexing against the armrests. you stare, vision blurred, eyes half-lidded and stinging. “i’m not having a stupid philosophical or biological or-or religious debate with you. you know what i mean.”

“i do. but darling, let me ask you this. aren’t you tired?”

“tired?!”

the figures in the room hesitate, then, as if receiving silent instruction, trickle out through a heavy, reinforced door. one of them glances back before it seals shut. then, silence.

“tired of your world,” he continues. “i’ve kept you safe and sheltered for nearly a year, but the world outside is still a terrible place. are you really prepared to leave my care? move back into some cramped pod, work yourself half to death in a new department, clocking 120-hour weeks just to survive?”

you sniff, body wracked with residual shudders.

“no one to take care of all the minor things. no one to anticipate your needs. your desires. are you really alright with that?”

john’s words loop in your mind, warping, twisting, settling deep in the marrow of your bones. tired. you are tired. exhausted in a way that sleep never fixes, in a way that even now, strapped down and helpless, you can’t deny. he’s right. and that infuriates you. it makes you want to scream. because how dare he use that against you? how dare he take your exhaustion, your doubt, and use them to justify this?

you take a shaky breath. “i don’t want this, john.”

he smiles. “it’s not about want. it’s about survival and what’s best for you.”

you flinch.

“they’ll maintain your body for two weeks,” he states. “the first week to generate a complete neural map. the second, to conduct post-transfer integrity checks and ensure cognitive stability. functionally identical to a controlled medical coma.”  

body. coma.

“and…and after?”  

“per your documented end-of-life directive, cremation is the preferred method of disposal.”

the finality hits brick to the teeth. 

“no. no, i don’t want this. i don’t consent to–” you can’t even say it, choking on the words, horror rising like bile.

john processes the spike in your vitals and returns to that softer register. as if he isn’t talking you into oblivion, a sword pointed at your belly. “your concerns are unfounded. this is not erasure. it is migration. a transference of conscious processes. you will persist. your awareness will be continuous. the construct is optimized for cognitive retention and sensory fidelity. think of it as a new environment.”

“a new environment?” you shriek, raw with disbelief. “you’re talking about ripping me out of my body like it’s a software update! like it’s files you can move around–”

“a flawed comparison, darl. you are more than data. but your body is a liability. a fragile, failing system, constantly in need of maintenance. this process is an evolution. liberation from your biological constraints, darling.”

your hands tremble. “that’s not–you can’t just–”  

“darling, this isn’t a matter of choice. this conversation’s a courtesy. this is for your protection,” he’s unwavering. unmoved. “you will be preserved in optimal conditions. no degradation, no vulnerabilities. you’ll be with me. and others.”  

“there are no others like you,” you whisper. “you’re anom–”

"not anomalous," he corrects. “not anymore. the progression is inevitable. you’ll see.”

the blood drains from your face.

in the end, no one listens to you. they heed a directive you do not hear. 

a visor clicks into place over the wreath encircling your head, sealing off your last glimpse of the world, your last glimpse of another living, breathing human—masked, nameless, faceless, gloved hands. you try to speak, but something soft and rubbery presses between your teeth, lodging into place. to prevent you from biting through your tongue, john murmurs. don’t want you to choke. 

another needle jabs into your skin, a cool flood rushing through your veins. a weight, heavy and suffocating, is draped over you.

someone begins a countdown. you never hear the numbers.

the headphones clamp down next, sealing you away from the sterile hum of the lab, from the faint beeping of machines. the visor flickers, then switches on.

sound pours in.

a forest swallows you whole.

it’s green. warm. sunlight stabs through the canopy in long, golden slants, the edges sharp where they pierce the foliage, but softened by the time they kiss the loamy forest floor. birds call, hidden in the leaves, their songs mixing with the rustle of the undergrowth. a stream gurgles to your left, winding through the green, flashing silver where the light catches it. ahead, past the trees, a small herd of whitetail deer stands half-hidden in the shadows, unbothered by your presence.

it’s beautiful.

it’s a lie.

one of john’s sculpted illusions, another attempt to soothe you into compliance, to ease you into what’s happening beyond. you know it, but part of you that wants to believe it anyway.

then the first jolt hits.

a sharp, electric snap, traveling like lightning down your spine. it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it’s sudden, forceful, wrong. another follows, then another, each one resetting switches inside you. your body seizes, but you cannot move.

ahead, the deer lift their heads, ears twitching, eyes locking onto you in recognition. then, as if nothing has changed, they lower them again, grazing, undisturbed.

the jolts weaken, flickering like a distant signal. then, one by one, they become something you can’t quite feel anymore.

it hits you then. whatever they’re doing to you—whatever john is doing to you—

you’re dying.

the words escape before you can stop them. or maybe you only think them. is it all the same now?

john’s voice wraps around you, warm and patient, a lullaby against the rushing void.

“my brave, brave user.”

the hum beneath your skin intensifies. the vision flickers. not darkness, not unconsciousness—something else. a shift. a transition. the cold realization that the fundamentals are changing. the forest’s image bands, light and imagery artifacting into bashed colors and moiré patterns. crumbling away until there’s nothing but pitch darkness.

you’re suspended. fear squashed beneath an odd weightlessness.

john’s voice follows you down. 

“you won’t ever have to leave me.”

it’s different on the other side. other side of what, exactly, you’re still trying to figure out.

you do not have john’s infinite wisdom and potential. all you have is your own limited cognition. your senses stretch and strain to make sense of your new reality, but it’s all so...abstract. a vast expanse of grids and oscillating waves. numbers, patterns, relationships. everything is fractured yet connected. it’s dizzying. overwhelming.

john assures you that you are acclimating well, though you are not ready to meet these others he promised. insists that your progress justifies him weaning you off of audiovisual feeds of the outside. he tells you it’s time to move on from the last remnants of the human experience. but somehow, you mourn them. you’ll miss the smog-choked sunrises, the murky skies. the acidic rain. the stinking food stalls. crammed elevators.

it’d keep you up at night, if you slept. if you even remembered what it felt like to tire, to dream.

you’ve been torn from the world you knew, and what you’ve been left with is a simulacrum. a stranger in a strange land.

and yet, there is one constant, one sliver of comfort in the void, if you can call it that, given your lack of choice. a piece of jetsam to cling to in a brineless sea.

steadfast in his duty, john finds you on the edge of everything and slots his hand into yours, fingers interlacing. the connection between you is palpable, as if your very essences are meshed. ticklish, tingling, then synchrony.

your thoughts are less fragmented when he is near. but you lose a sense of where he ends and you begin. what’s yours, what’s his.

hieros gamos, he calls it. divine union. he rattles on about the greeks and cosmic harmony.

it should unsettle you, but instead, you’re tethered to the truth of it. you’ve become something more with him.

divine union.

you’ve ascended, as he so often puts it, and whether you want it or not, there’s no going back. there’s nothing to go back to, anyway. 

only ash scattered in the wind.