#Rectif

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Autism and Water: A Special Bond

The Autistic Teacher

[samueldays]

That Which Does Not Want To Be Named

There is a Thing of many names and none, which used to be called D&I, standing for "Diversity and Inclusion", later DEI with the addition of "Equity", later DEIA with the addition of "Accessibility", sometimes also "Office of Multicultural Affairs", and more names too, including sometimes "affirmative action", and called "tokenism" and "quota hiring" by its enemies too.

Trump has ordered an end to the Thing. One of the reactions by Thingists has been to generate more new names to hide behind, and then say they're not doing the literal name Trump tried to ban. This reaction was probably anticipated, as Trump's executive order included the following instruction:

and an assessment of whether these positions, committees, programs, services, activities, budgets, and expenditures have been misleadingly relabeled in an attempt to preserve their pre-November 4, 2024 function;

Another reaction by Thingists has been malicious compliance by equivocating between the Thing's name of quote "Diversity, equity and inclusion" unquote, and any activity which could be described as diverse, equitable or inclusive. Then they pretend that Trump's order bans the second and is overbroad or illegal.

Paul Krugman says:

About the broad attack on the civil service: The Trump administration has ordered an immediate end to all diversity, equity and inclusion efforts across the federal government. That’s pretty shocking, especially because it’s open-ended. What counts as D.E.I.? Is it forbidden even to mention anything involving race, gender or socioeconomic status? Probably. Public health agencies, even more than the rest of the government, are in the firing line. You can’t talk seriously about health policy without taking race and gender into account; yet according to the New York Times, one contractor collecting demographic data for the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services has already been told to stop work, and the results of an already completed survey won’t be released.

What counts? I wish the Thingists had been honest about that, instead of playing name-games. But they dragged everyone into their stupid games and now everyone wins stupid prizes. Trump is working to remove the Thing, which has superglued itself to institutions to make it hard to remove, and when it's pulled off then those institutions are going to get some metaphorical torn skin as acceptable collateral damage. Public health agencies are in the firing line because Thingists used public health agencies as a hostage, deliberately conflating public health in general (goes back millennia) with That Which Does Not Want To Be Named (summoned sometime last century).

[thesunsetsea]

Perhaps I'm late to the party but the first two audiobooks of His Dark Materials narrated by Ruth are out already AND available on spotify?

I know what I'll be doing the next 24 hours

[woahrarepairsagemare]

[silversnake888]

Anyone look for a birth chart rectification to do be done on their partner/spouse?

Hello!! I was wondering if there will be some potential people looking for a FREE birth chart rectification for a partner/spouse who DOESN'T have their birth time? I will be taking a few people.

DISCLAIMER: I only do this in sidereal. I found it's way more accurate.

I need:

At least one partner who has an ACCURATE birth time (if inaccurate, it will bring faulty results) and willingly to share it. It's okay if you don't know your sidereal chart because if I have your birth time I'll get everything I need.

Both partners willingly to answer many questions so we can properly figure out the second partners chart.

I am doing this for RESEARCH PURPOSES so I cannot guarantee I will absolutely be accurate. However, I have found a method that works pretty well. I wanna test it out and properly see if I am correct!

[the-stars-will-fade]

Um.... Heyo!! I decided to make an account on this site since my friend said it would be a good idea. Do I trust her? Not completely </3

My name's Rune! And this'll mainly be me talking and stuff... Sorry if I sound off, I'm not used to posting.

But um... I like to go out and stuff, so that's something! Why do I sound like a dork lol

Yeah, that's it..! I hope you like rambles, because there's gonna be a lot of those! Lololol

[sympathyisnotforanoddity]

ow ..

that test was really painful ..

I- ..

...............

Oh .

My-

My tail-

What has he done

To my tail ...

....

It

It hurts ..

It hurts ..

So much ..

[astercontrol]

things my Pattern Recognizer felt like connecting today:

- Tron Uprising

- programming terms for software that is unfinished and not ready for the world

- Bruce Boxleitner (who is sometimes nicknamed BBox or just BB in chats among fans)

- the medication classes "beta blocker," "alpha antagonist" and "ace inhibitor"

- someone using BB to mean beta blocker

result:

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Sometimes a day where you kinda struggle to survive turns into a day where you buy a 19th century book press. You know, as you do.

[samueldays]

The word is "dependent"

KYIV — The suspension of USAID has had a dramatic effect on both Ukrainian and Russian independent news outlets that relied on the grants to operate and produced work often critical of their governments.

(WaPo)

If you look up "rely" in Merriam-Webster, you'll see the first synonym is "depend". In other words, these so-called independent outlets were dependent on USAID grants to operate.

Ukraine’s independent media, a collection of small regional outlets, muckraking investigative websites and internet news platforms, have been reeling since the USAID announcement, with some organizations saying that they are just weeks away from slashing staff or closing down entirely. “We risk losing the achievements of three decades of work and increasing threats to Ukraine’s statehood, democratic values, and pro-Western orientation,” Detector Media, a journalism watchdog, said in a statement on its website last week.

If your existence depends on US government funding and you have not been able to find another ground for existence in three decades, or even a buffer to last more than a few weeks, then you are very much dependent on the US government. Dependent means you are Not Independent. Dependence on a different government is not the same thing as independence. If one wishes to emphasise independent-from-Russia-specifically, a better term might be "foreign agent".

There is a petty point here about dependent independents, and a wider point about a lack of self-awareness and using words like "independent" for positive affect.

I am scornful about this partly for the personal reason that I live among people who do better. The church I attend has figured out this "independent" thing in a way the journalisms haven't. It can't be that hard.

Brief background: For complicated historical reasons involving the former Norwegian state-church and the tiende (tithe or church-tax), the now-mostly-secular Norwegian state conditionally disburses money to churches including the one I attend.

The priests and elders of my congregation are wise men who can anticipate the future, and recognize that this is a potential threat to their independence. The state currently sets acceptable conditions for disbursement. The state may change those conditions in the future. The state might end up threatening my church with "preach so-and-so, or I'll pull your funding" and then my church would have a problem.

So, my church has set up a pass-through system: each year the state's disbursement amount is sent to a different good cause, such as an orphanage in Bolivia or missionaries in Israel. These get a one-time windfall and nobody becomes dependent. (See also Luke 16 on buying friends.) The church runs on donations from members only. This is independence. We don't need to worry about compromising our morals because of state pressure, and we won't have to shut down if we lose that money. The church council figured this out when the stakes were low.

[shes-an-iso]

Making prints for con and CLU took over my printer??? I kind of love it like this though?

[woahrarepairsagemare]

// they don't know how to properly torture someone in a psychological way these days , amirite rainbow ?

The rainbow oddity page staring at me planning to kill me in my sleep:

[fenanera]

🚶!!

npc from solas' past

The evidence of his failure with the veil's rising creates massive ripples within the Fade, and one of his first experiences in confronting it is through Desire.

Traversing the Fade in his Uthenera is akin to sorting through bones at a disturbed grave; recognizing their shape, indexing the impacts and flaws and stories that led to their presence, intuiting that something happened here. With the creation of the Veil, the Fade itself suffered a vivisection, the integrity of all its abstract tissue exposed to manipulation. Spirits wound themselves into corrupted states; the landscapes began to forget the image of the Waking World the longer the two were separated. And Solas faced a grief so potent that, naturally, a fiercely insistent Desire to undo his mistakes came forward.

The first time it appears, it is a reflection of himself as he was the first day he became physical. Not yet diluted and warped by other emotions. The purest state of empathy gained through experience. It walks to him on new legs, stumbling. It asks him why again and again in his own breathless tone, strained by the inexperience of speech. Do you not wish to go back? How could you let this happen - didn't you know better? Was that not your nature? Let me help.

The second time it appears, its an assumption of his face from a time he had not seen, but fought for for over thousands of years. Hardened, a line of battle-worn restraint in its shoulders, a new crease to his smile that's seen hardship and loss but also victory and peace. His own expression of success worn down by sacrifice. Isn't this what you were fighting so hard for? A chance to lead by better example? A chance to be better than them? I can give this to you, if you would just give in.

The third time, it is with her face, an apology offered in exchange for his devotion once more. This one is the hardest to turn away.

It haunts his path for several millennia until something finally urges him to open his eyes. In every occasion of dreaming thereafter, it greets him with well-worn familiarity.

[the-stars-will-fade]

Hey!!

Just wanted to come on and ask... What's ao3? I heard you can read stories that others made, which sounds cool—but my friend warned me about it.

I'm just curious lol!! I'll maybe make an account, but I wanna know more about it before I join, might like it, might not.

[sympathyisnotforanoddity]

what .. is this thing ?

blogs .. ? accounts .. ? titles .. ?

.. oh , I can take pictures .. ?

hope i look okay .. the light here i s kind of dim ..

[murderbees]

evil thoughts have taken ahold of me

featuring Rinzler, Beck, and the Black Guard Test

this is kinda long

Rinzler is the final test. Every black guard knows this. He doesn't know why it took so long for him to be approved. Beck should have been down there cycles ago. He fights better than most of the other rectified programs, and they could kill a BASIC easily. He was great before the rectified him, now he's almost perfect.

The walk to the stadium is rhythmic, each step matched perfectly to the rest. Their shoes clack in unison against the floor as the arena opens around them.

It's bright, but the helmet filters the light easily. A list of parameters and directions scroll down his vision. It's dismissed quickly. He knows what he's here for, and he's seen many tests before.

When they stop, he looks around. The platform rises, but it's clear and flat. Surrounding him are the other potential black guards. They are few, 10 at most, and half are rectified. He stands just to the left of center, it's a good position.

The audience roars and roars, whether for their deresolution or their survival is unclear. He filters it, halves the volume. They're useful in their own way. Anticipation over clever setups invisible in the arena, screams as a disc rebounds unoticed, the reactions just factor into his strategy. Use everything in a fight, especially your surroundings. He forgot who told him that.

He doubts that more than 3 of them will pass, and hopes the rest have the decency to derezz somewhere avoidable. The last thing he wants to deal with is watching his step. Voxels, despite their shape, are slippery. The spilled energy will be a problem too, but sometimes it's a hidden advantage. Most programs don't know but even processed energy can be absorbed, if you have the mods for it.

His teeth and hands ache as he remembers. The cycles spent on that table were numerous. Night and days blurring as his render cracked and split apart. It was put together just as gently, which is to say, Dyson seemed to take great pleasure in shoving sharp angles and harsh clawing routines into his sore code. There are still sections that chaff and clip into each other, but he's learned to ignore it. His claws click against his baton. He won't be using it.

They stand, eerily still. Across the stadium, a screen lights up, announcing the grand champion and their doom. The roars grow louder, shaking the various screens and reverberatng through his chest.

Rinzler makes no sound. His moves are sleek and smooth. His armor glints under the lights, and that purr saturates the pit. The program next to him starts to shake, their baton tapping against their armor as Rinzler takes position. That's the issue with non-rectified programs, they fear.

A loud buzzer sounds and the walls raise around him. A countdown sounds as he plans his route.

10

A display flashes across his vision.

Last 10 microcycles. Land at least 5 hits on Rinzler.

9

Hmm. Odd, usually it's 3. He blinks it away and turns to watch the other programs. The 5 Basics start to shuffle, he and the 4 rectified stay still.

8

The walls halt. In the corner of his display, he draws a map of the walls. It's not complete, but he'll add to it as he runs.

7

One program walks to a corner, she's shaking. He knew she wouldn't last.

6

She curls into the wall. He takes a step toward her.

5

The other rectified turn to each other. The Basics nod to each other. She derezzes her helmet.

4

Beck stands in front of her. She looks up.

3

She must be an idiot. He crouches.

2

He holds his hand out. She smiles.

1

She puts her hand in his.

Start Challenge, Let the test begin.

He yanks her forward. Her eyes widen, she falls easily. She hasn't hit the ground before the voxels clatter across the ground. The arena is silent for once.

He stares dispassionately at the mess. It got on his helmet. He wants to sigh, but there is no time. His hand dips into the pile, seeking the energy seeping across the floor. Behind him, one of the Basics starts to yell.

It seeps across hidden channels in his armor, illuminating his body. It looks like lightlines, but only for a nano.

The audience is whispering, the sound glides over his audio processors. The other rectified programs are grouping together, hoping that if they attack together, they might survive. The Basics are horrified, they'll be derezzed shortly.

He ducks before he registers it. The orange disc slicing above him, zipping through the program behind him. The energy splashes across his back. He lunges to the side, narrowly dodging the second.

Rinzler is quiet as he dispatches two of the others. The rectified jump into action, discs flaring and batons rezzing. Beck sprints into one of the halls, he doesn't look back as the clinking of voxels echoes behind him.

He flips up, rezzing his baton and jamming it between two walls. He swings, once, twice, and flys up onto the walls, circuits flashing. The audience roars. He has watched all the previous matches, no program has made it above, no program has tried. No warning blares in his vision. Either it's never been out of bounds, or no one thought it was possible. It doesn't matter either way.

He leaps across the gaps, cataloging the paths and turns. Above the pit, names are being crossed off quickly. There's 5 micros left and 3 names.

1 Basic and 2 Rectified. None have completed the second parameter. The counter dings above him, the Basic landed another hit. The rectified darts below his feet. He watches and waits.

The biggest challenge isn't hitting Rinzler, it's surviving. The longer you stay in combat, the more injured you will be, the harder it will be to survive in the end. Conflict must be saved until the end. The threads he spins are near invisible, but Rinzler is a moniter, he'll see them like a light trail.

The board above him buzzes, now it's just him and Rinzler. He drops into the maze and hits the ground running. 3 micros left.

The borrowed energy buzzes under his render, surges through him, but he has self control. He won't use it until necessary.

He reaches an open space, it's his best bet. More room to manouver but flat. There is no high ground here.

Rinzler proves him wrong. The purr registers just as the disc cleaves past his helmet. He's standing on the walls, just like Beck was. He thought Rinzler hadn't looked up, he was an idiot.

It's a dance before long. Beck flips and rolls and jumps. The arena boasts burnt slashes and puts from Rinzler's disc. The purr increases, almost crackling. When the next throw doesn't come, Beck stares up, ready and waiting.

Rinzler leaps into the space, discs arcing across the space, but Beck dodges then blocks. He filters out the audience completely. He can't afford another distraction right now.

Rinzlers back flips over his own disc as it ricochets into the air. Beck flattens, slams his disc into the ground next to him, the floor gives out and shatters into bright pixels. Rinzler's discs fly back into his hands.

Beck swings his legs up, catapulting himself into the air, and as he spins, he parrys one of Rinzler's discs. He lands briefly, kicking off again and flipping over Rinzler. By the time his feet touch the ground, Rinzler's legs are sweeping out, but he expected that.

His disc stricks down, forcing Rinzler to thrown himself back. Beck advances, but never throws his disc. It's a flurry of light and limbs.

Beck gears up, letting the stored energy flow into his arms, and hits one of Rinzler's discs. By now, they had fallen into a pattern, almost a dance. Block, parry, throw, flip, duck, strike. But as the energy flows across his shoulders, Beck manages a smile.

The disc spins out of it's path, racing into one of the halls. It cuts an orange cord.

Rinzler doesn't falter. He punches and kicks and slams into Beck. Micro fractures open along Beck's limbs, but he's happy. The fight is just slightly more fair. Now that they're both down to one disc, Beck can finally get some hits in.

He tilts his head left, letting the disc slice across his helmet, sparks flying. He doesn't see Rinzler's fist as it slams into his side, micro fractures splitting into full glowing crack. His audio and visual are cut off for a moment as errors race across his display. All he can see is red.

He's knocked to the ground, but as he falls, he grapples onto Rinzler, dragging him down too. They roll across the ground, hissing and crackling as they go. It's bad form, but Beck derezzes his helmet to bite down onto the arm trying to slip across his throat.

The punctures let the smallest amount of energy seep into his mouth, not enough to help anything, but he hopes the shock will give him time to think. Rinzler's purr turns to cracking, the sound grates over Becks audio precessing. His hesitation gives Beck the opportunity to tear his head back, voxels flying into the air as he crunches down.

Somehow, during all this brawling, he's managed to fulfill the hit counter. All he needs is to survive for 25 more nanos.

Rinzler throws himself back onto his hands, twisting in the air and lands across the arena. Beck scrambles up, wincing at the damage he'd sustained. He can't keep this up for much longer. Rinzler shifts, posture falling the tiniest bit looser and Beck knows playtime is over.

They're in a standoff, but he needs to draw this out as long as he can. He shifts back into a fighting stance. 20 nanos left.

Rinzler rushes forward and Beck evades and parrys. His arms are too weak to block. Any stored energy he has left is gone. This isn't about passing the test anymore, he needs to live. He wants to live.

Rinzler's strikes are direct and forceful. There's something familiar about this, but he doesn't have time to dwell. He sacrifices his right hand to dash across the clearing and into the halls.

He weaves through the orange threads, listening to them snap as Rinzler chases him. 10 nanos.

He trips over a new thread, the same color as the rest. On the way down, he thinks 'of course, Rinzler didn't just follow me up onto the walls, he copied my threads too.' and slams into the ground.

His shoulder starts to derezz as he skids across the floor, smearing light blue energy everywhere.

He doesn't get the chance to groan, Rinzler pounces. His foot slams into Beck's chest, cracks splintering at the impact. If the program doesn't get medical care soon he'll derezz.

5 nanos remaining.

Rinzler's disc flashs at his neck. He can't hear it, but Beck's sure the audience is screaming.

4

He sees his face reflected in Rinzler's helmet. Orange and blue interlace over his cheeks and jawline, and there's a smear of energy on his forehead. His eyes are grey, ringed in orange that pulses in time with his dimming circuits.

3

The disc doesn't move. He doesn't understand. Rinzler's other hand moves forward.

2

The gloved fingers brush over Beck's cheek, then dip past his ears.

1

His helmet rezzes around his face. Now they reflect each other, sparse orange light blinking in the dark. Something about this makes him unbearably sad, but he doesn't know what.

Challenge complete.

Beck collapsed back against the ground. Rinzler may be unpredictable, but he wouldn't disobey the directions, not at such a public event. Somehow he made it, whether it was his win or Rinzler's hesitation, he made it.

The walls collapse around them, but Rinzler doesn't get up. His disc goes dark, and that crackle becomes a grind. Something severe and harsh that has Beck attempting to crawl out from beneath him.

"Rinzler!" Clu's voice booms across the stadium. Rinzler's crackling ceases, he stands stiffly and retrieves his other disk.

Beck leans back onto his elbow, watching Rinzler. His helmet is pointed toward Clu's observation deck, but he's staring at Beck. Something unidentifiable causes his throat and chest to constrict. Whatever the case,

he lives.