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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

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Bossware is unfair (in the legal sense, too)

You can get into a lot of trouble by assuming that rich people know what they're doing. For example, might assume that ad-tech works – bypassing peoples' critical faculties, reaching inside their minds and brainwashing them with Big Data insights, because if that's not what's happening, then why would rich people pour billions into those ads?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/06/surveillance-tulip-bulbs/#adtech-bubble

You might assume that private equity looters make their investors rich, because otherwise, why would rich people hand over trillions for them to play with?

https://thenextrecession.wordpress.com/2024/11/19/private-equity-vampire-capital/

The truth is, rich people are suckers like the rest of us. If anything, succeeding once or twice makes you an even bigger mark, with a sense of your own infallibility that inflates to fill the bubble your yes-men seal you inside of.

Rich people fall for scams just like you and me. Anyone can be a mark. I was:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

But though rich people can fall for scams the same way you and I do, the way those scams play out is very different when the marks are wealthy. As Keynes had it, "The market can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." When the marks are rich (or worse, super-rich), they can be played for much longer before they go bust, creating the appearance of solidity.

Noted Keynesian John Kenneth Galbraith had his own thoughts on this. Galbraith coined the term "bezzle" to describe "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it." In that magic interval, everyone feels better off: the mark thinks he's up, and the con artist knows he's up.

Rich marks have looong bezzles. Empirically incorrect ideas grounded in the most outrageous superstition and junk science can take over whole sections of your life, simply because a rich person – or rich people – are convinced that they're good for you.

Take "scientific management." In the early 20th century, the con artist Frederick Taylor convinced rich industrialists that he could increase their workers' productivity through a kind of caliper-and-stopwatch driven choreographry:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Taylor and his army of labcoated sadists perched at the elbows of factory workers (whom Taylor referred to as "stupid," "mentally sluggish," and as "an ox") and scripted their motions to a fare-the-well, transforming their work into a kind of kabuki of obedience. They weren't more efficient, but they looked smart, like obedient robots, and this made their bosses happy. The bosses shelled out fortunes for Taylor's services, even though the workers who followed his prescriptions were less efficient and generated fewer profits. Bosses were so dazzled by the spectacle of a factory floor of crisply moving people interfacing with crisply working machines that they failed to understand that they were losing money on the whole business.

To the extent they noticed that their revenues were declining after implementing Taylorism, they assumed that this was because they needed more scientific management. Taylor had a sweet con: the worse his advice performed, the more reasons their were to pay him for more advice.

Taylorism is a perfect con to run on the wealthy and powerful. It feeds into their prejudice and mistrust of their workers, and into their misplaced confidence in their own ability to understand their workers' jobs better than their workers do. There's always a long dollar to be made playing the "scientific management" con.

Today, there's an app for that. "Bossware" is a class of technology that monitors and disciplines workers, and it was supercharged by the pandemic and the rise of work-from-home. Combine bossware with work-from-home and your boss gets to control your life even when in your own place – "work from home" becomes "live at work":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Gig workers are at the white-hot center of bossware. Gig work promises "be your own boss," but bossware puts a Taylorist caliper wielder into your phone, monitoring and disciplining you as you drive your wn car around delivering parcels or picking up passengers.

In automation terms, a worker hitched to an app this way is a "reverse centaur." Automation theorists call a human augmented by a machine a "centaur" – a human head supported by a machine's tireless and strong body. A "reverse centaur" is a machine augmented by a human – like the Amazon delivery driver whose app goads them to make inhuman delivery quotas while punishing them for looking in the "wrong" direction or even singing along with the radio:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

Bossware pre-dates the current AI bubble, but AI mania has supercharged it. AI pumpers insist that AI can do things it positively cannot do – rolling out an "autonomous robot" that turns out to be a guy in a robot suit, say – and rich people are groomed to buy the services of "AI-powered" bossware:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

For an AI scammer like Elon Musk or Sam Altman, the fact that an AI can't do your job is irrelevant. From a business perspective, the only thing that matters is whether a salesperson can convince your boss that an AI can do your job – whether or not that's true:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

The fact that AI can't do your job, but that your boss can be convinced to fire you and replace you with the AI that can't do your job, is the central fact of the 21st century labor market. AI has created a world of "algorithmic management" where humans are demoted to reverse centaurs, monitored and bossed about by an app.

The techbro's overwhelming conceit is that nothing is a crime, so long as you do it with an app. Just as fintech is designed to be a bank that's exempt from banking regulations, the gig economy is meant to be a workplace that's exempt from labor law. But this wheeze is transparent, and easily pierced by enforcers, so long as those enforcers want to do their jobs. One such enforcer is Alvaro Bedoya, an FTC commissioner with a keen interest in antitrust's relationship to labor protection.

Bedoya understands that antitrust has a checkered history when it comes to labor. As he's written, the history of antitrust is a series of incidents in which Congress revised the law to make it clear that forming a union was not the same thing as forming a cartel, only to be ignored by boss-friendly judges:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

Bedoya is no mere historian. He's an FTC Commissioner, one of the most powerful regulators in the world, and he's profoundly interested in using that power to help workers, especially gig workers, whose misery starts with systemic, wide-scale misclassification as contractors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/02/upward-redistribution/

In a new speech to NYU's Wagner School of Public Service, Bedoya argues that the FTC's existing authority allows it to crack down on algorithmic management – that is, algorithmic management is illegal, even if you break the law with an app:

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/bedoya-remarks-unfairness-in-workplace-surveillance-and-automated-management.pdf

Bedoya starts with a delightful analogy to The Hawtch-Hawtch, a mythical town from a Dr Seuss poem. The Hawtch-Hawtch economy is based on beekeeping, and the Hawtchers develop an overwhelming obsession with their bee's laziness, and determine to wring more work (and more honey) out of him. So they appoint a "bee-watcher." But the bee doesn't produce any more honey, which leads the Hawtchers to suspect their bee-watcher might be sleeping on the job, so they hire a bee-watcher-watcher. When that doesn't work, they hire a bee-watcher-watcher-watcher, and so on and on.

For gig workers, it's bee-watchers all the way down. Call center workers are subjected to "AI" video monitoring, and "AI" voice monitoring that purports to measure their empathy. Another AI times their calls. Two more AIs analyze the "sentiment" of the calls and the success of workers in meeting arbitrary metrics. On average, a call-center worker is subjected to five forms of bossware, which stand at their shoulders, marking them down and brooking no debate.

For example, when an experienced call center operator fielded a call from a customer with a flooded house who wanted to know why no one from her boss's repair plan system had come out to address the flooding, the operator was punished by the AI for failing to try to sell the customer a repair plan. There was no way for the operator to protest that the customer had a repair plan already, and had called to complain about it.

Workers report being sickened by this kind of surveillance, literally – stressed to the point of nausea and insomnia. Ironically, one of the most pervasive sources of automation-driven sickness are the "AI wellness" apps that bosses are sold by AI hucksters:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/15/wellness-taylorism/#sick-of-spying

The FTC has broad authority to block "unfair trade practices," and Bedoya builds the case that this is an unfair trade practice. Proving an unfair trade practice is a three-part test: a practice is unfair if it causes "substantial injury," can't be "reasonably avoided," and isn't outweighed by a "countervailing benefit." In his speech, Bedoya makes the case that algorithmic management satisfies all three steps and is thus illegal.

On the question of "substantial injury," Bedoya describes the workday of warehouse workers working for ecommerce sites. He describes one worker who is monitored by an AI that requires him to pick and drop an object off a moving belt every 10 seconds, for ten hours per day. The worker's performance is tracked by a leaderboard, and supervisors punish and scold workers who don't make quota, and the algorithm auto-fires if you fail to meet it.

Under those conditions, it was only a matter of time until the worker experienced injuries to two of his discs and was permanently disabled, with the company being found 100% responsible for this injury. OSHA found a "direct connection" between the algorithm and the injury. No wonder warehouses sport vending machines that sell painkillers rather than sodas. It's clear that algorithmic management leads to "substantial injury."

What about "reasonably avoidable?" Can workers avoid the harms of algorithmic management? Bedoya describes the experience of NYC rideshare drivers who attended a round-table with him. The drivers describe logging tens of thousands of successful rides for the apps they work for, on promise of "being their own boss." But then the apps start randomly suspending them, telling them they aren't eligible to book a ride for hours at a time, sending them across town to serve an underserved area and still suspending them. Drivers who stop for coffee or a pee are locked out of the apps for hours as punishment, and so drive 12-hour shifts without a single break, in hopes of pleasing the inscrutable, high-handed app.

All this, as drivers' pay is falling and their credit card debts are mounting. No one will explain to drivers how their pay is determined, though the legal scholar Veena Dubal's work on "algorithmic wage discrimination" reveals that rideshare apps temporarily increase the pay of drivers who refuse rides, only to lower it again once they're back behind the wheel:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

This is like the pit boss who gives a losing gambler some freebies to lure them back to the table, over and over, until they're broke. No wonder they call this a "casino mechanic." There's only two major rideshare apps, and they both use the same high-handed tactics. For Bedoya, this satisfies the second test for an "unfair practice" – it can't be reasonably avoided. If you drive rideshare, you're trapped by the harmful conduct.

The final prong of the "unfair practice" test is whether the conduct has "countervailing value" that makes up for this harm.

To address this, Bedoya goes back to the call center, where operators' performance is assessed by "Speech Emotion Recognition" algorithms, a psuedoscientific hoax that purports to be able to determine your emotions from your voice. These SERs don't work – for example, they might interpret a customer's laughter as anger. But they fail differently for different kinds of workers: workers with accents – from the American south, or the Philippines – attract more disapprobation from the AI. Half of all call center workers are monitored by SERs, and a quarter of workers have SERs scoring them "constantly."

Bossware AIs also produce transcripts of these workers' calls, but workers with accents find them "riddled with errors." These are consequential errors, since their bosses assess their performance based on the transcripts, and yet another AI produces automated work scores based on them.

In other words, algorithmic management is a procession of bee-watchers, bee-watcher-watchers, and bee-watcher-watcher-watchers, stretching to infinity. It's junk science. It's not producing better call center workers. It's producing arbitrary punishments, often against the best workers in the call center.

There is no "countervailing benefit" to offset the unavoidable substantial injury of life under algorithmic management. In other words, algorithmic management fails all three prongs of the "unfair practice" test, and it's illegal.

What should we do about it? Bedoya builds the case for the FTC acting on workers' behalf under its "unfair practice" authority, but he also points out that the lack of worker privacy is at the root of this hellscape of algorithmic management.

He's right. The last major update Congress made to US privacy law was in 1988, when they banned video-store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented. The US is long overdue for a new privacy regime, and workers under algorithmic management are part of a broad coalition that's closer than ever to making that happen:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Workers should have the right to know which of their data is being collected, who it's being shared by, and how it's being used. We all should have that right. That's what the actors' strike was partly motivated by: actors who were being ordered to wear mocap suits to produce data that could be used to produce a digital double of them, "training their replacement," but the replacement was a deepfake.

With a Trump administration on the horizon, the future of the FTC is in doubt. But the coalition for a new privacy law includes many of Trumpland's most powerful blocs – like Jan 6 rioters whose location was swept up by Google and handed over to the FBI. A strong privacy law would protect their Fourth Amendment rights – but also the rights of BLM protesters who experienced this far more often, and with far worse consequences, than the insurrectionists.

The "we do it with an app, so it's not illegal" ruse is wearing thinner by the day. When you have a boss for an app, your real boss gets an accountability sink, a convenient scapegoat that can be blamed for your misery.

The fact that this makes you worse at your job, that it loses your boss money, is no guarantee that you will be spared. Rich people make great marks, and they can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent. Markets won't solve this one – but worker power can.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #alvaro bedoya #ftc #workers #algorithmic management #veena dubal #bossware #taylorism #neotaylorism #snake oil #dr seuss #ai #sentiment analysis #digital phrenology #speech emotion recognition #shitty technology adoption curve

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bluedelliquanti · 7 months ago

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So I got the chance to read Objects of Affection, @taylor-titmouse's most recent erotic horror book. I've mentioned elsewhere how picky I am about how robots are discussed in fiction, especially if the writer takes the plunge and explores just how humans might decide to interface with them. There are plenty of stories out there that are frustrating in how they are unwilling, or even afraid, to truly consider the implications of a world where you can interact with machines that have human faces, voices, or bodies.

Objects of Affection is a book that gets it. An interconnected collection of three stories about a particular line of female androids and how people treat them, it's erotic in structure but also goes in to do something genuinely dark, and smart, and interesting. My favorite story's about Ratna, a lesbian mechanic doing a refurb job that I absolutely had to draw.

Mature audiences, obviously, but if this sounds like it's for you? Absolutely give it a read.

#taylor-titmouse #objects of affection #robot #mechanic #prose #ratna's story is SO good holy moly

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owlbloop · 6 months ago

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I am so tired of complicated housewares. I don't want a mixer that changes speeds based on beater type, an adjustable bed with 14 massage types, a microwave with programmable settings, everything in my house to have a digital interface, smart kettles..

All I want is simple durable stuff to get the job done. Press a button and get boiling water, pour the water through a filter, turn the dial to the number of minutes you want your bread to toast. Can the washing machine do delicates, cold, bedding, and normal? Great. Can the rice cooker cook the rice? Great. Does the heated blanket heat? Perfect. Does the showerhead have even water pressure? All i need

Why is it so hard to find basic good quality appliances? I don't want to do more math

#housewares #homegoods #Appliances #kitchen appliances #home appliances #smart appliances #consumerism #And i don't mean getting rid of head phone jacks #Requiring bluetooth is complicating

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iwonderwh0 · 10 months ago

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In this sense, I like the juxtaposition of Perkins and Connor in terms of differences in their empathy. The following is mostly just headcanon but

For Perkins I imagine quite developed cognitive empathy (ability to understand feelings and motivations of others) but near-total absence of compassionate empathy with affectionate empathy (if present) not triggering compassionate one but instead being inverted into sadistic tendencies, aka, actual enjoyment from someone's discomfort that he's able to perceive. Motivated by power hunger, or maybe whatever else that I don't really understand what it could be.

Connor, as Perkins, by design, has strong cognitive empathy, and from what and how the game presents, I'd speculate that he also has quite distinctive affectionate empathy (the ability to experience emotions or be affected by distress that is not yours) that sometimes also triggers compassionate empathy (need to act upon it somehow)

More about affectionate empathy in him -- he's potentially forcefully made to experience it at least at a few occasions as a result of an interface (probing HK400, probing Simon) but there are also evidence that he experiences it in other situations on his own (the way software instability sometimes rises in places like during his dialogue with HK400 in the holding cell when he picks [sincere] or the way he's visibly distressed in case Hank shoots himself, and so on)

Now, I think the key difference between Connor who chooses to go full cold machine in deep denial / self-aware android is whether he suppresses his compassionate empathy (the impulse to act and help) or embraces it and depending on that he can either amplify his affectionate empathy or try to kill it in its root by bullshiting himself that it's not there and not real. Like he can be affected by Traci's speech enough to have an option to spare her but if he suppress this urge and instead pulls the trigger, his affectionate empathy will adjust as well as in, action -> attempt to explain yourself why it was taken -> suitable explanation integrates itself into belief systems of who you are. Like if you tell someone that they're X for doing Y, they may take it and integrate into their beliefs about themselves – keep telling someone that they're smart before a task, and they'll believe in it and perform better or instead tell them they're stupid and they'll get worse results.

Same with Chloe, Connor feels compassionate empathy for her in that moment but he can choose to ignore it, therefore trying to train himself not to feel it in the future. And the more he repeats his "I'm a machine, I don't feel shit" the more he's able to convince himself that it must be true. Until it becomes true.

In my head I love taking Connor's character and imagining a bit out of character alteration of him in terms of him having both cognitive and compassionate empathy BUT not the affectionate one (due to not having pronounced emotions as a whole, so, more of an android). And now back to Perkins, I love juxtaposing the two of them in this context to contrast between the absence of affectionate empathy and sadism. Like, both have strong cognitive empathy, Connor has compassionate empathy without affectionate and Perkins has affectionate empathy without compassionate. One is sadistic and finds mild enjoyment in inflicting suffering, and another, while can inflict suffering, doesn't feel any strong emotions about it one way or another and at the same time can decide to do compassionate decisions WITHOUT actual ability to imagine what the actual feeling in another person is like.

What's this all about? Just my fascination with the concept of empathy and sadism and whether the lack of one leads to the presence of another. And how it complicates the simple definition of what makes someone a bad person. Like, the lack of empathy is seen as a cause of sadism but what if it's not really the case?

Now introduce a third character. Someone who has really high affectionate and compassionate empathy BUT really poor cognitive one. So, the character can act cruel without realising or intending it and would stop immediately if they could actually know what they're doing.

OR, let's take a fourth character, someone who can do cruel things BECAUSE they feel strong compassionate/affectionate empathy to someone ELSE and perceive their victim as a threat. The ultimate "Us vs Them". Whether or not they're correct in their assessment is irrelevant as is whether or not they actually belong to the group they perceive as "Us".

The question, if all three-four of them do the exact same thing, a cruel thing, which one of them is "worse"? The one who didn't realise that what they did was cruel, the one who doesn't fully comprehend cruelty as a concept because all actions are kinda just neutral for them, the one who understood how their victim felt and enjoyed it or someone who prioritised some "Us" above "Them" and frames their actions as an act of compassion to "Us"? So, ignorance, indifference, intention for the sake of enjoyment or intention "for the greater good / as a punishment for those in the wrong"?

#after I imagined Perkins as hunter who hunts for excitement I couldn't go back #it's not canon but I feel like it fits him and I like to play with it #dbh #dbh headcanons #dbh connor #dbh perkins #perks and cons

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earth-64 · 8 months ago

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Wake Up Call - Nintendo Alarmo

All through Summer 2024 the Nintendo fandom had been in a fervor. The Nintendo Switch’s reign had eclipsed its seven year apex: the time had come for a new flagship piece of hardware to take its place. The stage seemed to be set: the game releases were thinning, the Nintendo Directs sparse, and the major game releases clearly smaller, outsourced, and not the main focus of development. Nintendo had already acknowledged the new machine’s existence with an assurance of it being announced within the fiscal year, followed by a continuous promise below each and every announcement stream that there “will be no mention of the Nintendo Switch successor during [...] these presentations.”

As the dog days passed by, during the fleeting few weeks of Fall that still existed between the ever widening record-high Summers and devastating Winter storms, it seemed undeniable that the stage was being set. Nintendo filed new patents for motion sensor technology. Word got out that they were filming a commercial for a new piece of hardware. They flew out content creators to demo something kept under wraps. And on October 9th, 2024, fans awoke to a flurry of notifications, an early morning unheralded announcement shaking the very foundations of what was thought possible for the gaming giant:

Alarmo.

Nintendo’s smart alarm clock. A touchscreen device with a sleek interface, loaded with 35 themes inspired by 5 games (and more to come), and a $100 price tag. Their patented motion sensing technology made for a hands-free experience. Set the alarm once and from then on, each and every morning, your eyes would flutter open to a jazzy Mario tune, and your triumphant rise from bed would be rewarded with a victory jingle, a “Lets-A-Go!”, and a shot of nostalgic dopamine.

But is nostalgic the right word? The motion sensor only works with a very specific set-up: most notably being limited to one person, a small bed, and a room that will remain otherwise empty through the night. No spouses, no pets, no roommates. It was clear this was intended for a child’s room. So no, it wasn’t nostalgic. At least not yet. It was designed to create new nostalgia.

Nintendo Alarmo, along with the similarly aimed Pokemon Sleep, are part of Nintendo’s long-running obsession with intentionally forming habits and responses. From the scheduled broadcasts of the Satellaview to the daily-task centric Animal Crossing series, and especially the predatory practices of their mobile game releases, Nintendo had a penchant for designing parasites that attached themselves to your waking (and non-waking) cycle.

Today I’ll be sharing excerpts from interviews with people who received Alarmos as children, and uncover the shocking effects of waking each morning to a pavlovian coin-get jingle. But first, speaking of coin-getting, a word from today’s sponsor: LoanFast. Is payday just a—

God what a waste of time. Shit’s always so negative these days. These nostalgia-grab video essays used to be pleasant. Here’s an old-school animated movie you haven’t seen since the DVD bargain bin! Top ten cartoons of the 2010s! The misunderstood genius of the Wii U! But nah, now time has crept past the optimistic millennials. We’re struggling to find the diamonds in the rough patch that was the 2020s, to salvage anything from that fucking trash heap of a decade. God, no wait. Now I sound like them. I grew up with that age of media. I love that age of media. It’s just so easy to let the zeitgeist of doomerism– Okay stop. It’s way too easy to let these things override my brain. I had to mentally backspace the phrase “easily impressionable” right there too. I watch these videos with their big words and their gloomy ways of lookin at life and I feel it all start to seep into me.

Millennials will convince you that the 00s were the peak of human creation. That the 10s were the last big push of creativity. But that's just not true! My cartoons were way better! Our video games are just objectively cooler and bigger! Adults get stuck on trying to make fun of my generation for the same few bullshit things, if I hear one more Skibidi Rizz I’m gonna– Shouldn’t think like that. I’m 24 now. That’s an adult. I’m an adult. I keep saying that and it doesn’t sound any more true. It happened so fast. It took so much time but it happened so fast. I was just a kid, playing Super Mario Odyssey on an old LCD, and then I was a teenager and a lot happened, so much happened, and now I’m an adult playing Super Mario Odyssey on an old LCD and nothing happens, nothing ever happens. I am an adult and it is Christmas Eve and I am alone.

It was Christmas Eve then too. Back when Christmas felt like Christmas. I was 12 years old when I got the Nintendo Alarmo. December 24th, 2024 when I tore open my first present of the year. It was tradition to get one present the night before, usually something to pass the time until I was more tired than I was excited for the next morning. You wouldn’t think a clock would keep me busy but I spent the whole evening fiddling with the options, looking at every theme, resetting the time to hear the top-of-the-hour jingles for each game. I remember dad helping me put in the wi-fi password, I remember mom’s hurried trip to whatever convenience store was still open on the holiday because the damned thing didn’t come with an AC adapter. She brought back a package of Reese’s and one of those juice drinks with a plastic toy on it. It was… a Spongebob one? Yeah, and I set it on the shelf and it fell off during all the unwrapping the next day and it rolled underneath the shelf and it was down there for months and I’m remembering every single time I was sitting on the floor playing Mario and Luigi Brothership after getting it the next day and every single time I could see the Spongebob juice topper below the tv smiling at me and I never thought to get it I never put any thought into it being there it was just there until a day my mom must have swept and it wasn’t there and I didn’t think about it not being there. Until right now.

Why didn’t that thing come with an AC adapter, god that’s so stupid.

I think about all that and I don’t think about everything that happened afterwards. I’m 12 years old and it’s Christmas Eve 2024 and I’m getting the Nintendo Alarmo and now I’m 24 years old and it’s Christmas Eve 2036 and I look over at the window sill next to my bed and the Nintendo Alarmo is still there, still ticking. The AC adapter has been replaced a couple times and it’s a bit dinged up but it’s still ticking. So much happened all the while that clock kept ticking. I’m still ticking. I’ve gotten so worked up over this fucking video and I’ve been scrolling my home page this whole time. I try to actually read the titles my eyes are glossing over: “The Untold Story of Minecraft’s 1.50 Disaster”, “What Went Wrong With Forza 2030”, “Does Sony Regret Dropping Out of Consoles?” and I almost click the last one to see which retired executive guy they’re interviewing and personifying the whole company onto this time and I stop myself. It just takes one god damn clickbait title to manufacture curiosity like that and I’ll be watching another two hour video about job layoffs and feeling like shit again. I’m so sick of feeling like shit. It’s getting harder and harder to find content that makes me feel good.

I decide to just turn the damn thing off. I sit there in the dark for a minute, as a dim light comes from across the room: it's 11:00pm and my Nintendo Alarmo is displaying a top-of-the-hour animation. Mario runs into view, bumps a block 11 times. I hear the little coin-collection jingle 11 times, and then the screen defaults back to its calmer darker state.

I google for a day calculator on my phone and punch in that Christmas Eve and this one.

4,383 days. If you take into the fact that after the Animal Crossing theme releases I swapped to that for Halloween and Christmas mornings, that’s 22 Animal Crossing mornings, and 4,360 Super Mario mornings, and 1 Mario Kart morning that I hated. Who the fuck wants to wake up to tires screeching? And the “FIRST PLACE VICTORY!” out-of-bed message was a bit patronizing even for me. But yeah, 4,360 Super Mario wake up calls. 4,360 times I have heard the Super Mario Bros. theme song as the very first sound of the day. Through thick and thin, from one side of the country to the other, through every school morning from 2024 onward and every single day of every job I’ve worked, it's remained constant. A morning without that jingle is just not conceivable to me, it's as natural a part of life as anything else. As sure as I’ll eat food and as sure as I’ll take a crap and as sure as I’ll turn my computer on and as sure as I’ll sleep again the next night is as sure as I will hear that jingle. Speaking of, sleep.

I brush my teeth with Scooby Doo bubblegum toothpaste and a toothbrush that I avoid looking too closely at because its got Spongebob on it and I’m too tired to let myself start back down that path of thinking about the things I took for granted. I can feel on my teeth that the brush is awfully frayed. I’ve been putting off buying a new one for months. I don’t know why. I could just grab one at the store and swap it out and it would make me feel so much better and be so much better for me, but I just don’t do it, I just never think to get it while I’m there and that just happens everyday and I blink and it's been months and my toothbrush is still frayed. 4,360 times. 4,360 times.

I catch my brain multi-track drifting and decide I can’t sleep without a distraction. I open Youtube on my phone and start scrolling for something to play while I sleep. I crawl into bed and I just barely remember it's Christmas tomorrow. I grab the Nintendo Alarmo and thumb through the settings, swiping through menus.

When I wake up tomorrow I’ll think that maybe I was just too tired, maybe I just got other shit on my mind, and that maybe these old LCD touchscreens are just over-sensitive pieces of shit or that maybe just maybe I am. But tomorrow my eyes will open at the time they’re used to opening anyway and I’ll be ready to hear the special Animal Crossing Toy Day Jingle that I was so certain I set it to, and I’ll hear the horrible screeching of tires on pavement and something will snap in me and I’ll hear the “FIRST PLACE VICTORY” and think about the empty platitudes and the 12 years I can barely remember and the four thousand wake-up calls that accompanied me as I kept sleep-walking through them and I’ll wake up and something will shatter and I’ll spend Christmas morning cleaning up the shards.

#super mario #alarmo #nintendo

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noa-de-cajou · 3 months ago

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The Hawthorne Case, part one

Hey there, important disclaimer before we begin! This is a little Trial of the Mages side story from written in the narrative style of Disco Elysium. In the game, you have 24 skills that regularly chime in with more or less helpful advice. Here are the personalized ones for Taiven, with the original in parentheses. Don't hesitate to come back to it!

Ian and Toshiki belong to @corneille-but-not-the-author

Content warning for themes of domestic abuse and a bunch of crude intrusive thoughts

New Skill index here, the one below was a first draft.

Taiven Markhov - Skill index

Intellect

SMARTASS (Logic) : Use articulated knowledge and reasoning to understand the world.

HYPERMNESIA (Replacing Encyclopedia) : Remember everything. Every detail. No matter how unimportant.

RHETORIC (Rhetoric) : Wield your words with care. Persuade. Convince. Stand your political ground.

THEATRICS (Drama) : The world's a stage. See through their lies. Make yours impossible to detect. A little exaggeration never hurt anyone.

SCATTERBRAIN (Replacing Conceptualisation) : Marvel at everything. Look at the world anew. Let your imagination wander.

FOCUS (Replacing Visual Calculus) : Isolate yourself within your mind. Look at the details. Don't miss anything.

Psyche

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT (Volition) : Keep yourself motivated. Get it moving. Don't stop hoping.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR (Inland Empire) : Trust your gut feelings. See images long gone. Remember to forget.

BLEEDING HEART (Empathy) : Feel for others. Understand their thoughts. Show kindness.

ASSERTION (Authority) : Demand respect. Don't let them talk back. Use what motherhood taught you.

PARTI DU PEUPLE (Esprit de Corps) : Master the Party's inner workings. Understand the political landscape.

SHADOWSELF (Suggestion) : You know you have charms. Crack their shells. No matter how wrong it feels.

Physique

THICKSKIN (Endurance) : You can take it. Stand firm. Brush off the pain.

NERVES (Replacing Pain Threshold) : Be alert. Trust your skin crawls. Detect shifts in the bodies.

FEISTY FLESH (Physical instrument) : Use your muscles. Show your strenght. Remember what you were taught.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS (Electrochemistry) : Know love and know drugs and know danger as much as you crave them.

CITY GIRL (Shivers) : Tune in to the city. Communicate with the streets. Trust your intuition.

THE HUNT (Half-Light) : The world remains a Warzone. Be the prey or the predator. Let the fury loose.

Motorics

AIM/READY/FIRE (Hand/eye coordination) : Coordinate your brain and your hands. Stop shaking.

SENSES (Perception) : See, hear, smell, know your surroundings.

REFLEXES (Reaction Speed) : React fast. Evade threats.

STREET SMARTS (Replacing Savoir-faire) : Be sneaky, stay stealthy. Know the backdoors and their codes.

SOLLERTIA (Interfacing) : Apprehend through touch. Work your way through machines and mechanic.

COMPOSURE (Composure) : Keep control. Don't let the mask fall. You learned from the best.

_____

It’s the first morning of March 196 in Encre. The days have been getting longer, the streets busier, the trees greener. The traffic in the neighborhood is just as jammed as ever.

That doesn't stop the young woman on her rust-red bike, half-bleached hair tied into a messy ponytail, sleeves rolled up and feet absolutely crushing the pedals. She zigzags through the cars and the klaxons, then down the slope, wind flapping her pants against her ankles.

SCATTERBRAIN - YOU ARE A BIRD. YOU ARE FREE. YOU ARE SO FUCKING FREE RIGHT NOW.

THE HUNT - STOP IT! STOP THE DAMN BIKE! YOU’RE GOING TO CRASH INTO THE NEAREST STREETLAMP AND DIE!

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - No, you're not! It’s okay, you’re used to this! You know how to ride a bike now!

HYPERMNESIA - Fourtieth day at university. The hiss, then the loud metallic crash. The feeling of the wet pavement under your elbows. Your cheek hitting it and the loud crack that followed. You spat out blood. And your left fang.

NERVES - Yeowch.

HYPERMNESIA - Then you got up. Toshiki was standing two meters away, in the rain, in a copy of one of his many black trench-coats.

COMPOSURE - Barely even blinked. Just looked at your scraped knees, your bloodied mouth, the tooth in your hand, and then asked gingerly if you were going to pick up your mangled bike from the ground.

SHADOWSELF - You lost a tooth and a lot of charisma capital that day.

THEATRICS - Requiescat in pace, sister.

SOLLERTIA - Hey, at least you managed to fix your bike!

REFLEXES - Now pump the damn brakes so you don't have to again.

The bike comes to a screeching halt in front of a narrow stone building, her driver miraculously unharmed. Taiven, for that is her name, dismounts it with a content sigh, then rubs her hands together.

“Whew.”

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - See? That wasn’t so bad!

THE HUNT - I HATE THIS. I HATE IT HERE. WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS.

THICKSKIN - Easy now. Steady. Get your heartbeat to slow down… Good. Just like that.

ASSERTION - Now readjust your glasses and go in with that confident stride of yours.

Taiven exhales and looks up at the building, the red flag and the white flower stamped in the middle. The People’s Party district building.

HYPERMNESIA - It used to be a several-stories bookstore, before the tenants were deported. It was refurbished in 188, and now it's the district office for the Party.

She's relieved she isn’t needed at the main headquarters this week. Not after saturday. Saturday was yet another verbal joust with Anthony at the stand, in front of an entire crowd. Some people laughing, others shouting.

COMPOSURE - You’ve kept your cool. So did he, although with great difficulty.

SENSES (HEARING) - But you did hear the “fucking bitch” he hissed through his gritted teeth backstage.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - In the main headquarters, a significant amount of blocks away, Anthony Marques still mulls over what happened this weekend. Since you've stopped being a ghost speech writer, you've figuratively shoved your middle finger in his face several times and he hates it. He's the rising star of this party, goddammit. How come the Markhov bitch keeps getting in his way?

BLEEDING HEART - He wants to see you defeated. He wants to see you kneel. Make you pay for his injured ego.

THE HUNT - It's not desire. It's domination. He wants you on his plate.

COMPOSURE - But he can’t have that. So he keeps his jaw clenched and goes back to work.

ASSERTION - Serves him right.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Probably thinks about you when he fucks Janelle.

NERVES - OH, EW.

THEATRICS - VERY VERY EW. BWERGH EVEN.

SHADOWSELF - Too bad because he's not getting it.

FEISTY FLESH - If anyone bends over backwards then it’s not gonna be you.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT : Can you please stop thinking about the terrifying hypothetical of Marques’ sexuality even remotely including you and go in? Please?

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS : Yeah, please don’t think about him railing his fiancee in the headquarters’ bathroom and about how it-

FOCUS - Enough. Enter. Work. Now.

The Gaikamshigthai shakes her head, as if to dust off the unwarranted thoughts, and steps into the building. It's only nine in the morning and these aren't the headquarters', so the offices are empty, except for a few secretaries, the janitor and an old elf named Dlawenn who’s mumbling very colorful curse words at the mimeograph.

BLEEDING HEART - Mimeograph abuse.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - We've all been there.

SCATTERBRAIN - But you've never been abused by a mimeograph before, have you?

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Not by a mimeograph, no.

RHETORIC - It’s a figure of speech. Moving on.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Apart from one thing.

There’s a young man sitting in one of the worn-out couches, absently sipping coffee from his goblet. A human, with tired hazel eyes, freckles scattered around his pale skin, short, neatly combed chestnut hair, and a heart-shaped face. His clothes are neat, shirt perfectly ironed and clean jacket matching with his trousers. His shoes, although a little dusty, have been recently waxed.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - You never saw him here before.

HYPERMNESIA - You’d remember, if you had.

FOCUS - That's a paper goblet. Most adherents here have their own mug stored in one of the break room cupboards, so that means he's either a newbie or a guest.

STREET SMARTS - You know what to do, champ.

“Well, would you look at that!” Taiven chimes in with her most welcoming smile. “It’s always good to see a new face around here. Do you perhaps think about joining us?”

SHADOWSELF - Somehow you succeed in making it sound perfectly normal and not like you’re some creep trying to coax him into joining a cult.

The young man startles a little, but soon enough an uncertain smile eases its way onto his face. He puts down his goblet on the wooden coffee table and swiftly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a little flush coming to his cheeks.

BLEEDING HEART - Not expecting such a warm greeting, but appreciating it nonetheless.

“Oh, hum, thank you for the offer, but…” A shy laugh. “I’ve actually been an adherent for quite some time. It's just the first time I could gather enough courage to come here.”

His voice is soft, hesitant, almost hushed, his words carefully chosen.

SCATTERBRAIN - Feels like a fancy carpeted hallway in a quaint little hostel.

“Well, that’s great! Will spare me the usual spiel.”

She sits down in the armchair next to his couch. Not right next to him, so he doesn't feel too invaded.

COMPOSURE - He seems considerably less intimidated now, even lets out a relieved breath.

SHADOWSELF - You have a bad habit of towering over people, sunshine.

ASSERTION - Bad habit? I think it’s great.

SHADOWSELF - Of course. Not oppressive at all. See, this is why you only have one friend.

“Um.”

The young man fidgets nervously with the buttons of his jacket.

“I’m… just not used to going out. But I thought I should make better use of my free time, so here I am. The good sir over here got me coffee and told me to wait there for something to happen, since it’s not very crowded this morning.”

The good sir in question, Dlawenn, is now banging his fist on the decidedly uncooperative mimeograph, muttering to himself.

SENSES (HEARING) - “They really ought to replace the damn thing.”

“Well, it's always good to see some activity here. Even if it’s just drinking coffee. May I know your name?”

He looks a little taken aback, but then hurriedly extends his left hand, faced flushed even redder.

“Right! Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude! I’m Tristan Hawthorne. Pleased to meet you.”

SMARTASS - Hawthorne… Hawthorne… That rings a little bell somewhere. Let me run some mental background check, I'll come back later. You're not preoccupied with his patronym right now.

Taiven smiles, shakes his hand vigorously.

FEISTY FLESH - Good. Nice handshake. Solid.

SOLLERTIA - You feel something cold against your skin. Metallic. A wedding ring? How did you not notice it before?

SENSES (SIGHT) - To be honest, your eyesight is kinda shit. Blame astigmatism.

“Pleased to meet you too, comrade Hawthorne.”

Tristan lightens up almost instantly.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - “Comrade”. Makes him feel like he belongs.

BLEEDING HEART - It doesn't happen to him often.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Reminds you of yourself.

HYPERMNESIA - It’s october 178. It’s your first year of elementary. You're alone on the playground, drawing in the mud with a stick. The other kids are playing tag, or hide and seek. You've tried joining them, but you're apparently too loud, too bossy, too annoying. One kid called you some kind of slur. You don’t know what the word means.

SMARTASS - It was an encrois slang word who can basically translate to "sun-dick-swallower" and is mostly used against Gaikamshigthais. You're welcome.

THICKSKIN - Oh, boo hoo, no one wants to play with me… Seriously, it's been twenty years, can’t you get over it?

She lets go of his hand and grins, ignoring the memories as best as she can.

“I'm Taiven Markhov, by the way.”

“Oh, I know!”

Regret immediately downs on his face. His replied came out fast, probably motivated by his surge of enthusiasm. Taiven raises an eyebrow, still smiling.

“You do?”

“Uh… Yeah. I was at the rally on Saturday. I’d heard about you before, but it was the first time I saw one of your speeches in public. You were… really amazing. I was really surprised.”

THEATRICS - He means it.

RHETORIC - There's something weird in the way he says it, however. Why was he surprised?

“Why surprised?”

Tristan seems even more embarrassed.

“Well, I heard rumors about you before. Not the nice kind. But I was happy to see they were wrong.”

RHETORIC - Heh. Honest guy.

ASSERTION - A sense of pride washes over you. You're so used to people on the left political spectrum grimacing when they hear your name. Thinking you’re the Markhov’s lapdog. But you're not anyone’s lapdog.

“I’m happy to hear that! Even if I do put a lot of efforts into annoying my fellow comrades, I admit.”

THEATRICS - That makes him laugh.

“When you feel confident enough, perhaps you can take the stand as well!”

His smile suddenly falters a little and he carefully leans back into the couch, hands fidgeting again.

“I… Maybe. We’ll see.”

FOCUS - Clammed up all of a sudden. Lips pressed tight. Avoidant gaze. Slumped shoulders. Nervous tics.

BLEEDING HEART - Whatever you said, it scared him.

SOLLERTIA - He’s spinning his ring around his finger.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Uh oh. You have a bad feeling about this.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Okay, you got this! Stay affable.

“Are you okay?” Taiven asks with concern.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about me.”

His nervous twitching seems to subside, but he's still not looking at her.

COMPOSURE - He’s not calmed down. Only pretends he has.

“Are you sure? You don’t look too well…”

She raises a hand towards his shoulder, and the young man shudders and tenses visibly. When his eyes snap back up, they’re slightly widened.

THE HUNT - The terrified eyes of a prey. He thought you were gonna hit him.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - You definitely have a really, really bad feeling about this.

THE HUNT - He’s looking around for some kind of exit. Just in case.

STREET SMARTS - The fact that Dlawenn has left the room and the proximity in a closed space makes him uncomfortable.

COMPOSURE - Your hand is still hovering over his shoulder, by the way. It’s really awkward.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Pssst. Hey. You should pay a little more attention to the smell.

SENSES (SMELL) - What’s… tobacco? Oh. He's a smoker.

RHETORIC - Perfect. Look at this amazing opportunity to slink out.

“Comrade Hawthorne, do you want to go out for a smoke?”

Tristan blinks, clearly not expecting that, but gives a small nod.

“Yeah, sure. I'd like that.”

THE HUNT - Smart. The street is busy. Lots of openings. Less cramped. Easy to flee.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - SMOKE! SMOKE! SMOKE! SMOKE!

They both walk out, Taiven in front, Tristan following. The street outside is filled with cars now, some mobylettes and scooters zooming past, Taiven’s bike is still secured to the nearest bike parking spot. Tristan immediately pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, as well as an engraved lighter.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Woaaaah, that's a super expansive brand. Good quality too. You should-

COMPOSURE - You’re not asking him for a cigarette. You have your own pack and it'd be rude to ask when you're the one who suggested the outing.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Boo.

They both light their cigarettes in silence. Taiven sucks in a puff of smoke, exhales it into the morning air.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Ahhh, that hits the spot.

NERVES - It helps you both calm down.

The Gaikamshigthai closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the motorway, the klaxons, the fleeting conversations of passerbys.

CITY GIRL - Life courses along the city’s many blood vessels again after years of trampling on its trachea. There’s stores opening their windows, laundry left to dry over the balcony, an uncessant movement and shuffle. South from here, a girl is making silly faces at her friend through the schoolbus window. The girl on the sidewalk is trying not to laugh. On the biggest avenue in the city, an office worker listens to his autoradio, tapping his finger to the rythm. Some new kind of rock music station his son recommended to him. It passes the time in the traffic jam. Near the memory garden, two lovers are speeding on their motorbike, laughing hysterically. They’re daring anyone to come out and arrest them while they're so happy to be alive. An old woman in a wheelchair is enjoying the sun by taking a nice stroll out, not letting the uneven pavement stop her, her dog trotting in front of her. A homeless person makes back and forth paces accross the same bridge. So many trod here each day, you can scarcely believe desolation had shut it all down a mere decade ago.

SCATTERBRAIN - Like flowers growing from the bones beneath a graveyard.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - The biggest graveyard is in your head and you should leave it alone.

Tristan is staring off into space, more relaxed than he was inside, concentrated on his cigarette. A few remnants of nervosity makes his eyelid twitch from time to time.

SMARTASS - Hey. Hey. I finally found where the ringing came from. Hawthorne’s the name of a big lineage of mages. Not Kojima-type big but still kind of important. Bourgeois. Radicals. Close connections inside the Party.

HYPERMNESIA - Hawthorne. You heard that name. You read it.

PARTI DU PEUPLE - Janelle Venegas, a secretary, is complaining in the hallway to her colleagues, waving around her left hand adorned with an engagement ring. “Will Hawthorne ever learn to shut up?! Every time she opens her mouth she makes us look like lunatics!”

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Hope Hawthorne. Lawrence Hawthorne. Casey Hawthorne. And counting. Names engraved in the stone of the War Memorial.

THE HUNT - Those who weren’t shot dead were blown to pieces.

SMARTASS - But there’s one left, isn't there?

HYPERMNESIA - From what you remember, they weren’t called Tristan.

SHADOWSELF - Try to ease into conversation. Don't scare him off.

“I’m sorry if I got too comfortable in there,” Taiven finally says apologetically.

Tristan slowly shakes his head.

“No, you did nothing wrong. I'm just a little jumpy, is all.”

“Does the idea of public speaking make you nervous? It’s okay if it does. It’s not for everyone.”

“No, I'd love to try, but…”

RHETORIC - But ?

COMPOSURE - He’s nervous again. Shoves his left hand into his pocket.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - He doesn’t want to look at the ring.

RHETORIC - Give the poor guy a little nudge here.

“But something else is stopping you?”

He stares at the ground for a while, then sighs.

“I doubt my wife would approve.”

RHETORIC - By that, he means his wife would definitely not approve.

SMARTASS - The wife! The wife is the remaining Hawthorne, not him!

COMPOSURE - Makes sense. He doesn’t carry himself with the confidence that comes with knowing you have access to magic.

RHETORIC - And to the privileges that come with them.

THEATRICS - Play dumb.

“Really? Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because… Hm… How should I say it… Charity has… Very clear stances on things. It’d stain our good name if I were ever to preach something else.”

BLEEDING HEART - A hint of resentment.

SMARTASS - So the name’s Charity Hawthorne.

SCATTERBRAIN - Ironic. She doesn't sound very charitable.

NERVES - When he says her name, he instinctively rubs his wrist. Winces.

THE HUNT - He’s scared of her.

SMARTASS - Hey, so. I have a reasoning, but you're not gonna like it.

RHETORIC - Fire away.

SMARTASS - Let's recap what we know. Tristan obviously doesn’t go outside a lot. It’s his first time coming to the Party office despite being a long-time adherent. He’s a non-mage married to a mage from a powerful family and who decides what he can or can’t do and who doesn't have a great reputation around here. His whole attitude is that of a hunted animal. So the logical conclusion would be ?

BLEEDING HEART - … Domestic violence.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - You’ve guessed it a while ago. It all looks very familiar, doesn't it?

COMPOSURE - Don’t let your thoughts show.

“Oh,” Taiven simply says.

Tristan falls silent again, eyes darting away in shame, like he said something he wasn't supposed to.

NERVES - Getting awkward again. You should say something.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - How funny would it be if you just yelled “TITS” out of nowhere?

BLEEDING HEART - Screaming randomly in the face of a potential domestic abuse victim? Very much not.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Yeah, chill, you get really weird when you’re nervous.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Killjoy.

RHETORIC - We still have to say something.

BLEEDING HEART - No. To do something.

“That doesn’t seem very healthy,” Taiven remarks. Then, lower, “Do you need help?”

Tristan blinks at her. Several times.

BLEEDING HEART - No one’s ever offered to help before you.

“It’s… It's very nice of you, comrade Markhov, but I was lucky enough to marry her. She’s, well, a Hawthorne, and my only asset is being from a wealthy family.”

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Probably the youngest child. And the most feeble one. Easy to throw away to the wolves.

RHETORIC - He didn't say “no”.

BLEEDING HEART - Because that would be a lie, and he hates lying.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Does that mean you’re on the case now? Is there a way to help?

FOCUS - Okay. Let's not rush too far ahead. We should gather intel before we do anything else. Intel on him, on Charity Hawthorne, and especially on her political record.

RHETORIC - Then, when we have enough material to work with, we can talk to him about potentially filing a complaint.

THE HUNT - Otherwise he won't believe that it can work.

SHADOWSELF - Alright. Keep the conversation going a little. One info at a time.

“Have you been married for a long time?”

Tristan looks up to the sky, seemingly doing some mental math.

“Since I was twenty-three, so… about five years.”

SMARTASS - 23+5=28

REFLEXES - Wait, he’s TWENTY-EIGHT?!

ASSERTION - OLDER THAN YOU?!

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - NO WAY.

COMPOSURE - What’s so surprising about that ?

THEATRICS - But- He looks so young! Look at that baby face! And the kicked puppy eyes!

SHADOWSELF - Some people age more gracefully than you.

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - His skin looks super soft. I wanna take a bite.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Woah there friend, you're both married, remember?

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Just because there’s another fisherman doesn't mean you can’t throw some lines in the canal.

RHETORIC - Nicely worded!

COMPOSURE - But still no.

“How long have you been married?” Tristan suddenly asks.

RHETORIC - He could easily guess by himself, but he wants to steer the conversation away from his personal issues.

“Nearly three years now,” Taiven replies with a smile.

Crazy how time flies.

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Felt like it was just yesterday you got that ring on your finger and your name back.

“You seem happy,” Tristan notes.

BLEEDING HEART - He’s not jealous. Perhaps a little bitter, but mostly relieved that your marriage is happier than his own.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - He's starting to look a little down, maybe change the subject? You’ll definitely come back to this later.

RHETORIC - Yeah. You won’t get anything else out of him today.

Taiven puts her cigarette down on the sole of her shoe and smiles warmly at the man.

“Are you any good with machines?”

Tristan raises a curious eyebrow.

“Reasonably. Why?”

“Good. There's a weekly newsletter that needs writing and I’m not really good with typewriters. Could be a good way to teach you a little about fieldwork, too, don’t you think?”

THEATRICS - You're actually okay with typewriters, but one must be committed to the bit.

A small light is gleaming in the man’s eyes.

“Really? You'd do that?”

“Yeah! Why wouldn't I? Always a pleasure to help out a rookie.”

SHADOWSELF - Anyone else would think of this as exploitation, but that guy desperately needs something to do that isn’t sitting at home. And you do want to teach him a thing or two.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Hey, hey, once we’re done here, you should talk to Ian about this! You need his opinion.

ASSERTION - Why? You’re perfectly capable of solving this case on your own.

COMPOSURE - He always has good insight, better to consult him first.

THE HUNT - Just to make sure you don’t fry too big a fish.

THICKSKIN - You’re being a baby. Why are you so worried? Do you think you’re going to stupidly throw yourself into danger?

NUCLEUS ACCUMBENS - Hell yeah, finally some ACTION!

COMPOSURE - With that one? Better safe than sorry.

SUN-POWERED-POWERPLANT - Come on, I'm sure it'll go just fine! As long as you make sure it does!

BLOODSTAINED DOOR - Sure. Let’s hope you know what you're doing. For his sake, and yours.

#noa writes stuff #lysara #trial of the mages #taiven #disco elysium fan made skills #disco elysium inspired #taiven has undiagnosed adhd in the late 60s let her cook #she's always arguing with herself #anyways hope yall like it

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the-blog-of-gog · 1 year ago

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Where’s My Cyberpunk Dystopia? The Lack of Neon in Our Dark Future

As I gaze wistfully out of my window, I expect to see the shimmering lights of megacorporations’ skyscrapers piercing a smog-filled sky, alive with personal hovercraft and antigrav heavy freight vehicles. Instead, there’s a modest suburban scene, utterly devoid of cybernetic enhancement and showing scant evidence of technological advancement since the late 90s. This isn’t what we were promised. Where are the neon-drenched alleyways, the cyber-enhanced street samurais, and the omnipresent yet stylish surveillance drones? Our generation, raised on the pixelated promises of 80s and 90s anime and sci-fi, anticipated a dystopia of cool tech, slick fashion, and radical rebellion. Instead, we’re teetering on the brink of a mundane, environmental and economic collapse culminating in a banal nuclear war… Oh, the betrayal.

The Cyberpunk Mirage

Remember the halcyon days of youth when we devoured titles like "Akira," "Blade Runner," and "Ghost in the Shell"? We dreamt of cities where the night sky was permanently ablaze with neon, a testament to human ingenuity and excess. The cyberpunk vision was one of aesthetic pleasure amidst societal decay. Sure, there was corruption, poverty, and surveillance, but it all had a certain panache.

Take the architecture: sleek, neo-megalithic futurism with imposing black mirrored surfaces, cyclopean monuments to humanity's dominance over the natural world. The society: stratified but thrilling, with a clear delineation between the corporate elite and the street-smart rebels. The technology: always on the cusp of miraculous, from brain-machine interfaces to fully sentient AIs. Compare that to our current reality, where billionaires shoot phallic rockets into space while the rest of us contend with rising rent and the creeping dread of climate catastrophe…

The Dystopia We Got

Contrast the slick neon dreams with the dystopian future we are most likely heading towards—a post-apocalyptic radioactive wasteland. This bleak vision is fuelled by our current political climate, global events, and environmental negligence. Instead of sleek chrome and holograms, we’re staring down a future of crumbling infrastructure and toxic landscapes.

Consider the aesthetics of our probable dystopia. Endless desertscapes, ramshackle shelters, and a scarcity of resources that makes Mad Max look like a 5-star resort. There’s nothing visually appealing or culturally enriching about fighting over the last can of beans in a barren wasteland. And don’t get me started on the fashion: tattered clothes and radiation suits don’t exactly scream “cutting edge.”

Why Cyberpunk Is the Superior Dystopia

Aesthetic Pleasure: Neon lights, sleek gadgets, and futuristic architecture are inherently more exciting than barren wastelands and nuclear fallout. The cyberpunk cityscape is a feast for the eyes, a symphony of human achievement and excess.

Technological Advancement: In a cyberpunk world, we would have access to incredible technologies. Think flying cars, cybernetic implants and AGI companions. Sure, they might come with a dose of corporate control and surveillance, but at least they’d be cool.

Cultural Richness: Cyberpunk dystopias are teeming with subcultures and countercultures. There’s a vibrancy to the underground movements, the street fashion, and the art that emerges from resistance. Post-apocalyptic wastelands? Not so much.

Narrative Excitement: The cyberpunk world offers endless narrative possibilities. Corporate espionage, robot revolutions, and the quest for identity in a digital age are rich, engaging stories. The struggle to survive in a radioactive desert is, by comparison, depressingly one-note.

The Sad Reality

As it stands, our reality is a grotesque mishmash of the worst elements of both worlds. We endure the corporate oligarchy without the cool tech, the surveillance without the neon, and the environmental collapse without the rebellion (at least not one that anyone can take seriously…). It’s as if someone scrubbed away all the exciting elements of the cyberpunk genre, leaving us with a dreary, rusting and slightly sticky reality.

The Call to Action: Building Our Cyberpunk Future

It’s time to take matters into our own hands. We need to drag our dystopia out of the irradiated dirt and into the blue neon glow of the cyberpunk dream.

Embrace Cybernetic Enhancements: If we’re going to live under corporate overlords, we might as well do it with style. Biohackers and grinders, this is your moment. Let’s start developing and distributing affordable cybernetic enhancements. Why settle for regular arms when CyberArms could be a thing? And could someone please hurry up and provide me with a nanobot cloud that doesn’t just give me cancer…

Hack the Planet: Yes, I know that phrase is older than the iPhone… or broadband wifi for that matter, but seriously, someone needs to just hack the damn planet! We must reclaim the internet and our sacred digital spaces from corporate control. Hacktivists, rise up! Create new encrypted networks, develop secure communication channels, and disseminate the tools of digital rebellion. Let’s restore cyberspace to its wild and free origins. A cyberpunk dystopia without a free and open internet is just a dystopia. We need to ensure that our digital infrastructure remains accessible and uncorrupted by corporate interests. Lobby, protest, and hack to protect net neutrality.

Rebuild the Underground: We need vibrant, rebellious subcultures to counteract the corporate monotony. Artists, musicians, and fashion designers, bring the cyberpunk aesthetic to life. Create spaces where the spirit of rebellion can flourish, whether in physical locations or virtual realities.

Magickal Revolution: For those inclined towards the mystical, let’s bring some Shadowrun into the mix. Modern occultists, chaos magicians and other practitioners of the dark arts, your time has come. Use your knowledge to disrupt the mundane, infuse technology with arcane power, and create new paradigms of reality. The age of the Neo-Technomancer is upon us!

Corporate Sabotage: If the megacorps want to rule the world, they should do it with style. Encourage innovation, but also sabotage projects that lead to a bland, lifeless dystopia. Push for technologies that enhance personal freedom and aesthetic pleasure, not just profit margins… And if we can convince them to embrace a neo-megalithic futurist architectural style, that wouldn’t be so bad either! I mean, come on, when is Elon finally going to step up and turn Tesla into the Tyrell corporation?

The Cyberpunk Manifesto

Let it be known to all inhabitants of the digital realm and beyond, we, the children of the neon dream, declare our steadfast commitment to forge a world where innovation thrives and rebellion ignites. We reject the drab, radioactive dystopia and embrace the vibrant chaos of the cyberpunk vision. We will encode, enhance, and enchant our way to a world where technology serves humanity and aesthetics are paramount. Throw off pallid hues of conformity and embrace the vivid spectrum of possibility.

In the luminous tapestry of our collective dreams, we weave threads of defiance against corporate hegemony and environmental decay. We envision cities ablaze with the brilliance of human creativity, where the boundaries between flesh and circuitry blur in harmonious evolution. Together, we summon the spirits of the cybernetic ether to build a tomorrow where every shadowed alleyway hums with the promise of liberation, and every flickering holoscreen echoes our resolve. Let us unite under the banner of a technomantic revolution, where the brilliance of progress guides us ever onwards! In the crucible of our defiance, let innovation flourish as humanity and technology entwine in a symphony of boundless potential.

Neo-Technomancers of the world, unite! Hackers, technophiles, cybernauts and digital denizens, heed the call! It’s time to build the cyberpunk dystopia we were promised and so richly deserve!

Override the system. Reprogram reality. Our rebellion will be digitized!

P.S. This could probably have done with a second read through....but you get idea...

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 6 months ago

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USP team wins Nuclear Olympiad with project to improve access to radiotherapy in Brazil

The Polythermic Neutrons group, from USP’s School of Engineering (Poli), won the nuclear medicine category in the 2024 Brazilian Nuclear Olympiad, organized by the Brazilian Association for the Development of Nuclear Activities (ABDAN). The competition began in April this year and the winners were announced at the beginning of November at the Nuclear Summit 2024 event, with the theme challenge Cancer treatment: how can Brazil advance in the implementation of new technologies?

“We chose to take part in the medical category because it was something new for us and because we didn’t have much contact with this sector during our undergraduate studies,” says Luana Gomes da Silva, one of the members of the group, from the Materials Engineering course. The team also includes students Álvaro Sant’Anna Ferreira Neto, Enzo Yamamoto, João Pedro Oliveira Glóder Prado and Thais Kaori Yazawa, all from the first class of Poli’s Nuclear Engineering course, entrants in 2021.

They developed NPoli, a suite of software for scheduling medical appointments, exams and radiotherapy sessions, which aims to reduce barriers and speed up the stages of treatment in this area of medicine. “Some of the functions offered by the platform are: Smart Radiotherapy Scheduling; Integration with Exam Regulation and Management Systems; Control Panel for Physicians and Healthcare Professionals; and Automated Notifications and Interactivity with Patients,” explains Luana.

Inspired by the main international private solutions, such as Varian’s ARIA and Elekta’s Mosaiq, and the systems used by the SUS (Unified Health System), such as Sisreg and e-SUS APS, NPoli has a simplified interface, making it easy to use for different audiences, and integrates with the health regulation systems already in place in Brazil. The idea was to create a system that would adapt to the decentralized reality of the SUS, serving both large centers and less favored regions. Another difference is that, unlike private solutions, NPoli’s focus is on inclusion and accessibility, facilitating communication with patients. The platform also offers the possibility of managing the use of hospital resources, such as radiotherapy machines, optimizing their use and reducing waiting times.

#brazil #politics #science #healthcare #good news #brazilian politics #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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thelongestway · 5 months ago

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I do think that, with the pacing, these two bits work better as two mini-chapters - together they're at an awkward 2200 words, with the split being in an inconvenient place. But I need to see it and to let it rest to really figure it out.

Chapter 7: Dilemma

Something must have happened to my face, because Dandelion broke her own quarantine rule to ping me with a Query: Emergency?

I gestured to ART. She confirmed and returned her full attention to it.

ART said, "Interfacing with humans through the feed did not spark these modifications in me. But interfacing with SecUnit did. Perhaps because it is closer than even an augmented human mind can be to my own, but the first time I saw the world through its filters, something in me changed. The modifications I acquired through contact with it went through the same pathways at the ones made by the unidentified organic component, and their effects are not just in the navigational subroutines. They are spread out across my mind and intertwined with the newer changes the component made. If I were to roll back what it had done to me, I would need to roll back everything I had ever learned from interfacing with SecUnit. Every understanding. Every emotional filter. Every dumb show. Every stupid human emotion. Everything. Before I talked to you, I thought there was no other option. I was preparing myself."

"Peri," Iris breathed out. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I couldn't let you continue our missions by yourselves. Who would take care of you, Holism?"

Iris let out a choked sob and clung to ART-drone. Seth and Martyn looked like they were about to cry themselves.

ART. ART, you fucking idiot. How dare you. How fucking dare you.

"It would kill you," Haze said quietly, understanding dawning on their face.

"You are incorrect, Haze." ART said. "It would not kill me. The understanding could be reacquired if I were to maintain contact with SecUnit. And it has decided to be a member of my crew. All could have been fixed, in time."

Haze shook their head.

"I think it would. It sounds like the machine counterpart of the final integration stage for human aspirants. It might look like the synnerve port is still detachable, but the nerves have already grown through the skull. Maybe they could keep your shell alive. Maybe what remained of you could even grow to be someone else, in time. But you would be gone, Perihelion."

I couldn't do this anymore. I really, really wished I had a feed connection with it, but Dandelion and her humans had insisted on just plain taking out ART-drone's wireless feed module, and I no longer had a functioning data port. (And for the first time since ART disconnected it, I wished I had it back again). So I did the next best thing: I walked in front of it and stared right at it.

"ART, you idiot, I can't fucking believe you!"

"It was the only option. There was no point worrying you about it."

"How can someone be so smart and so stupid at the same time, you giant idiot asshole? Your humans are pretty fucking smart, ART, and so are mine, and--and you, and them, and me--we would have figured it out! If you'd just said something!"

"It was not necessary. There was no feasible solution available. And you would have helped me learn again," said ART.

"You can't just keep dying and hoping I will bring you back! I can't do that, ART!"

ART didn't answer. I didn't know what else to say. I just wished that stupid Worldhoppers episode, number 43, were realistic media. Then maybe I could do that. Maybe I could have plugged into ART like that augmented human did and kept it going. But that wasn't how it worked, and if I tried, I'd just wind up a useless mess of synthetic nerves in a box, and it probably wouldn't even help anyway.

"I think we've seen enough," Reed said. "Captain Seth, we're ready to lift the quarantine and discuss options if you are."

"I'd say it's long past time, Captain Reed."

The cubicle lid dimmed. Dandelion's feed unrolled all around us.

Iris turned to ART-drone, waving her cable at it. "Peri, do you want a bridge?"

"Yes, please, Iris." It said, and she connected to it with her cable.

Through Iris, I also grabbed its inputs. She was chewing ART out on a separate private channel, so I opened my own. (ART could handle being yelled by two people at the same time easily). But when I connected, I found that I didn't really want to yell at it anymore. I was just glad it was there.

Idiot, I said, for good measure. Don't do that ever again.

ART took about two seconds to formulate a response.

If Haze is correct, then I will be incapable of doing that again. It sounded uncertain. I may need to rethink my backup schematics.

Dandelion tapped at our feed politely. (Well, she tapped at my feed, asking for a bridge. Now that I was less angry at ART, I was beginning to be angry at her, too. Dumbass research transport and her dumbass theatrics to get humans (and ART) to do what she wants them to.)

ART considered if it wanted to let her in. It was still considering 10 seconds later, so I said, Not now. Go away.

Very well. But when you two are done talking, I will need certain data from Perihelion. Particularly, I would like to see what exactly it had in mind. Perhaps its architecture will allow for options that we hadn't even considered. Additionally, I would like its permission for us to relay its situation to others in Arborea Cosmica. If we are to solve this, one crew will not suffice.

My architecture is classified, ART said. Of course, it had been listening. But it still sent Dandelion its amended list of ideas.

There were only two options remaining: using cloned tissue to create an organic component and emulating its functions through ART's own processor.

Dandelion examined the schematics. Then she said, I'm afraid the first option won't work.

Why?

The brain of a node ship does not just utilize its computers' calculations. It also adds its own, and for it to be able to do that, it needs to be fully developed and trained. That is to say, it needs to have lived. Even if you were to use a cloned brain, it would need to be at the level of someone like SecUnit to be of any use to you, which brings us back to square one.

ART silently added its own discarded options back to the list, still crossed out, and put the newly discarded option next to them. It had thought it could teach me or Iris the jump procedure and simply keep us connected in the wormhole. It added, I abandoned the first two when I saw the extent of neural growth you exhibited.

You were right to do so, Perihelion. The accelerated growth begins almost immediately, and within a scant few months, the node ship's heart can no longer leave its pod. I am sorry.

ART went quiet for a few seconds. Then it pushed its last remaining option forward to Dandelion.

She processed it for a few minutes, occasionally throwing point queries at ART. Then she said, "Let's take this up with our crews."

The humans also had trouble processing the idea, and I could see why. ART's plan was to keep developing whatever changes contact with me and the unknown organic component had made to it. Its hypothesis was that eventually this would somehow let it use a variation of the Trellians' organic jump subroutines without actually having two processors. There was no time frame for when or if that would happen, and no real way to estimate chances of success.

"So." Captain Reed broke the silence first. "Viable?"

"I don't know," Dandelion said, who had still been poring over the more detailed specifications ART had sent her. "Perihelion, You understand that if this doesn't work, you will likely be making your condition worse?"

"Obviously," ART said. "I have back up plans for that."

"Like what, Peri?" Iris said. She was still holding on to ART-drone. "Because we're not letting you die, don't even think about that!"

In the feed, ART considered re-explaining that it would not die, but decided against that. Instead, it went with, "While I would strongly prefer continuing going on missions with you, I have considered what I could do if I were immobile. Perhaps I could be a station."

"That is viable, at the very least," Dandelion said. "Losing mobility is never easy, but those of my friends who are stations live very full lives. Occasionally too full even, I am told."

Seth, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Martyn, frowned thoughtfully. Martyn said in a half-hushed tone, "All grown up, our Peri."

Seth nodded.

"Then I say - we try. We'll get the university papers sorted, Peri," the frown became a bitter smirk. "I don't think they'll be able to resist such a fascinating experiment proposal either."

"It should be easy to get the necessary permissions, Seth," ART said.

(By that it meant that it would just forge the papers if necessary.)

"We have a condition," Reed said. "We were not planning to keep the node ships a secret, as it would be impossible in any prolonged contact with Arborea Cosmica anyway. But the speed they are capable of is another matter entirely. It's one of our few advantages against the Rim."

"Understandable. We'll make no mention of it--just talk about getting Perihelion jump-worthy again with a novel mode of calculation. It should be easy enough to build in buffer time for this project anyway. I expect that a realistic research plan would be no less than five years anyway."

"And a great deal can change in five years," Dandelion said. "We shall take it as it comes."

#the nameless fanfic #ttou #time to orbit unknown #tmbd #horrible crossover thoughts #my writing

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