#Supercomputing performance

[manmishra]

Exciting news in the world of quantum computing! China's Zuchongzhi 3.0 processor has achieved groundbreaking results—outperforming Google’s Willow by a staggering one million times! With 105 qubits, it can perform calculations that would take classical supercomputers over 6.4 billion years to complete. This is a game-changer for industries like cryptography and AI! 🔍✨ #QuantumComputing #TechInnovation #Zuchongzhi3.0 #AI #ScienceNews

[goodoldbandit]

Powering the Future

Sanjay Kumar Mohindroo Sanjay Kumar Mohindroo. skm.stayingalive.in How High‑Performance Computing Ignites Innovation Across Disciplines. Explore how HPC and supercomputers drive breakthrough research in science, finance, and engineering, fueling innovation and transforming our world. High‑Performance Computing (HPC) and supercomputers are the engines that power modern scientific, financial,…

[ourwitching]

CUDA Graphs can provide a significant performance increase, as the driver is able to optimize exe...

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[garbage-empress]

I love how every new cryptocurrency is a complete pump and dump grift that immediately loses all value, and every cryptocurrency that's actually used to buy anything (mostly drugs) requires burning half the world's fossil fuels to power 1000000 supercomputers built from strip mined conflict minerals so they're able to perform the pointless busywork required to mint one digital coin that wildly fluctuates in value day to day, and every capitalist country in the world right now is like "we need to diversify into cryptocurrency IMMEDIATELY! It's the practical decision."

[ozzgin]

Thinking about Marvin and pathetic androids in general.

You’ve been delivered the magnum opus of technology. A supercomputer beyond human comprehension, so advanced, so efficient, invested with self-awareness and consciousness. Truly the peak of artificial intelligence.

And he’s a depressed, whiny loser. Oh, he will perform his tasks with utmost perfection, naturally, but he will complain and sigh and philosophize on the side.

“Thank you for taking me out,” you say to your synthetic partner.

“Well, my pleasure. Mine only, I suppose, as you probably had no other choice,” he says with pursed lips. “Give it two years and they’ll come up with a better model, and I’ll be discarded in the trash, recycled for scraps, forgotten in some intergalactic dump.”

Ah, the misery of life. He glides to his designated pouting corner and shuts himself off.

[moon-buggg]

Mad scientist Eclipse

He's done! I might play around with the colours just a little bit, but I'm happy enough with him for now<3 Anyways I'm obsessed with him and people should send me asks about him

Technically speaking, Eclipse is a supercomputer controlling a massive research facility. This body is more like a puppet designed to make the AI seem more friendly after initial reports suggested that the disembodied voice controlling the entire facility was "unsettling" and "disturbing." He can't walk on his own, and is instead moved around by the arm in the upper right picture, which allows access to the majority of the facility.

He struggled to get used to using this body when it was first implemented since he wasn't used to operating on such a small scale, but ever since the human staff sudden "went missing" he's found it much more useful. Though he still considers the entire facility his body, this is just a small facet of it that allows him to perform more delicate experiments.

[a-queenoffairys]

This post got me thinking and doing a bit of searching. WiFi has been around since the 90s at least, but it's another question whether or not it would have been available at a school in 2003, and he was able to connect to the Internet when he wasn't on school grounds too. I generally assumed his laptop could be using a satellite connection, but I didn't give it much serious thought.

So I asked my parents and they said if you had an always-connected laptop in 2003, it was probably using a SIM card to connect through the mobile phone network! You can even still find laptops with SIM slots today, since not everyone has the option of hooking their place of residence up to an ISP. So I have learnt something today, thank you! 👍

jeremie belpois was out here opening his laptop anywhere, did the guy carry a hot spot on him 24/7, insta-connect to nearest internet? what was his skill? how’d he pull that off? did the xana alert not require internet connection even though it was his laptop?

[valictini]

to quote night in the woods: I believe in a universe that doesn’t care and people who do

Yeah in my mind, I don't think the Universe can care in a human way.

To me it's basically an omniscient supercomputer. It knows everything there is to know, it has full control over reality, and it takes in requests (wishes) without thinking about morality or any negative impact it could have (it does try to avoid bugs and patches them if they do appear)

The way it “thinks” is not human. You know how, for example, an ai trained to create an organism that can move and cross a finish line will come up with WILD solutions? Like for example making an organism that just explodes until a BIT of its body crosses the finish line, thus technically completing the objective?

To me, that's how the Universe grants wishes. As long as the wish is granted, it did its job, no matter HOW it's actually granted. It does work with infinitely more precise and exhaustive set of parameters, making the wishes not as unpredictable, but it still has some wriggle room to “mess things up” (in a human perspective)

Also also, crucially, it grants people's WISHES, not necessarily their NEEDS. What someone wants can be very harmful or even prevent them from reaching their needs! But the Universe can’t help it! In a way, it’s the biggest people pleaser in this entire reality, it can’t say no to a properly performed wish!

I actually have a mini comic planned using that interpretation of the Universe. It's about the Change God explaining exactly why Loop's wish went that way and how they're a dumb whiny baby but that'll happen when I have more free time lmao

Here's a sneak peak tho! :D

[humanoidhistory]

Cray X-MP/48 supercomputer at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, 1988. It had four CPUs with a theoretical peak performance of over 800 megaFLOPS (floating point operations per second) and 8 million words of memory.

[morownic]

of fever dreams and jamais vu

And, of course, like all fever dreams, he had to wake himself up from it. (But this one? This one was real.)

warnings/tags: NSFW MDNI (non-graphic smut), non-ultraman AU, afab + fem pronouns

next — series masterlist · my other works · ao3

a/n: there were a lot of songs that i listened to while writing this (animals) and i do have a playlist of them but i would recommend color tv to listen while reading the flashback part bcs i did write this part with that song on repeat lol. enjoy!

All the world and his wife was scrutinizing Ken Sato the moment he stepped out of the airport and took his first deep breath in his homeland after twenty years. Of course, he welcomed and basked in the attention even if it suffocated him—quite literally, he must add, what with how the reporters and photographers were almost wrestling each other to get a scoop on him. What came after that only gave him a headache after a headache. He had to settle in his new residence, a mansion he bought just 15 minutes away from where his father lived, one that felt way too big for just one person and his supercomputer assistant. He finalized his contract with the Yomiuri Giants, followed by a meeting with all the staff members and a less-than-formal outing with his new teammates to some club in Shibuya he didn’t bother to remember the name of, where he was just constantly reminded that he was alone. The day after that, he had to deal with a hangover, a press conference, and an interview that ticked him off—Ami Wakita, was it?—before ending the night with a bar fight that left his shoulder aching.

Ken was sure he wouldn’t even have considered moving back to Japan nor would he have let his father somehow slip back into his life if it wasn’t for his mother.

With his injury, your father needs you, kiddo.

And so, Ken Sato began his baseball career in Japan with the Yomiuri Giants. He brought the team to their first victory of the season despite a lot of things: how the media was still on his ass about why he would leave his career with the Los Angeles Dodgers behind, how Coach Shimura seemed to have a chip on his shoulder when it came to him, how the pain in his own shoulder would stab and dull with every movement he made. The way his shoulder ached left him wondering if he should have treated it more seriously rather than seeing it as an inconvenience, perhaps put his pride aside to admit that yes, that drunken brawl was fucking stupid, and my shoulder fucking hurts. That was why he didn’t think much of it when Coach Shimura was talking about bringing in some new guy—something about a new performance analyst or whatever—as a matter of fact, he couldn’t care less.

So, imagine his surprise when he showed up to practice and saw a face he hadn’t seen since graduating college in the States. A face that made his breath hitch because one, she was just that beautiful, and two, he had no idea why she would be here. A face that was so familiar he almost threw up from shock, anger, guilt, longing. A face that contorted into contempt at the mere sight of him.

Ken Sato was sure of one thing at that moment.

He was completely, utterly, thoroughly fucked.

Ken Sato wasn’t always the famed world-class baseball star he turned out to be, and she wasn’t always the blunt and tight-lipped new analyst for the Yomiuri Giants she turned out to be.

He was a doe-eyed, lanky Japanese kid who had above average grades in his classes and showed promising results as a slugger for the baseball team. He spent most of his freshman year being stereotyped and made fun of for how he looked and talked, and it only changed because he had his growth spurt in sophomore year. Not only did he become a cleanup hitter by the end of the year, girls were suddenly giving him bedroom eyes in the hallway and guys tried to make up for their borderline bullying by letting him into their cliques. His friendships with them were shallow, really, because they would still poke fun at this old accent even after he had nearly perfected his American accent. Ken took it in stride only because he knew everyone would never make fun of him in baseball, not when he had practically put his school on the map by winning tens of titles and playing in the Senior League. And so, by the end of high school, Ken had baseball to thank for almost everything in his teenagehood.

She, on the other hand, came to high school smart and pretty. Where Ken stood out like a sore thumb, she stood out like a broken finger. Someone being academically gifted and socially relevant was practically unheard of at that time. She was among the top 10 students in freshman year, earned her spot as the leadoff hitter for the softball team in sophomore year, won a national debate championship in junior year, and passed 4 AP classes with flying colors in senior year. She, too, had put the school on the map, perhaps even more contributively than Ken did, so the teachers only kept their grievances for when she skipped class to smoke. Even so, everyone seemed to like her regardless of their cliques; she was always greeted in the hallways, was almost always invited to every party, and had gone out with all the popular students. She could have had it all, and whatever her secrets were, Ken and the other students in their school only knew her as the high school sweetheart, the kind you would see printed next to the definition of high school sweetheart itself.

Ken had seen her in passing during freshman year, but he never really talked to her until they shared three classes together in sophomore year. He remembered that she had approached him first during PE, suddenly speaking to him in fluent Japanese that he nearly had a whiplash. She told him that yes, I know you’re also Japanese and sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner, then babbled something about how she felt guilty that she had just been watching while others made fun of him. He didn’t think much of it at first, still surprised that one of the popular girls—if not the popular girl—in his year was actually talking to him. But then, he found himself understanding every word she said whenever she talked in Japanese and replying to whatever she was saying in English; he found himself exchanging notes and numbers with her in math class; he found himself going to the baseball field with her during lunch breaks and seeing who could hit the farthest. He was somehow roped into bringing her home after he offhandedly mentioned her to his mother, and then, they somehow became best friends. He would cover for her whenever she skipped class to smoke, much to his dismay, and she would introduce him to other social circles outside his baseball team, where he found his first girlfriend—who, admittedly, broke up with him because the way he spoke about his “best friend” was laced with more adoration than the first kiss he had with her. He would wait until their practice sessions were over and drive her home, where they would spend at least three hours talking on her porch before he went home, and she would show up to his games with an obnoxious handmade banner that read “KEN SATO THE G.O.A.T,” cheering the loudest whenever he hit a home run. He would pick her up from anywhere almost every time she asked, even if he had to get himself out of bed at two in the morning, and she would hang out at his place every other weekend, bringing fruit baskets and takeouts for his mother. It was somewhat domestic, how she settled in his apartment (and his life) whenever she came over. Ken almost always had to ground himself because his brain would feed him thoughts of a future with her, and his heart would beat so hard it threatened to break out of his ribcage.

But they were just best friends, he thought and said to his friends whenever they asked him about her. Best friends who happened to suck off, eat out, and eat each other’s faces pretty regularly. He found it funny at first, really; one time, their classmates told her that she just wasn’t human, what with how she juggled school and being popular. She only laughed it off, but he thought of how right they were when she came over while he was home alone at the end of sophomore year. There was no way the girl kneeling between his legs was fucking human. Not with that tongue of hers. Not with the way she looked up and batted her eyelashes at him. Not with how she literally gulped down his load in one go and played Tekken on his console as if she hadn’t just given him the best head of his life. She quite literally sucked the soul out of him that day, and he never had another head like that ever since. Even as they started hooking up—strictly platonic, she said, and he just went along with whatever she wanted as long as it was with her—that was still the stuff of his wet dreams, and it remained that way even long after they never saw each other again.

“Do you think we’ll be friends forever?”

The question caught Ken off-guard not only because it broke the comfortable silence between them, but also the feelings it evoked. Where is she going with this? he thought. A frown was etched on his face as he turned to look at her. Under the soft glow of the star projector in her room, she laid on her back, eyes tracing the constellations that danced across the ceiling. Her breathing was far more steady than his, chest rising and falling slowly behind the thin fabric of his shirt. Her hair fanned out around her on the pillow, framing her face as if it was her halo. At that time, her expression was probably the most serene and somber he had ever seen. She’s beautiful, he said to himself, and he thought it wouldn’t be so bad to keep a picture of this moment in his head for his selfish reminiscing should they ever stop being friends. (He hardly thought she meant that they could be more than friends, and he didn’t want to entertain the thought of not having her in his life.)

“Yeah?” He answered and mentally cursed himself for sounding so unsure. After clearing his throat, he corrected himself: “I mean, yeah, why not?”

There was no way she hadn’t seen the way he was staring at her from the corner of her eye. Even if she did, she didn’t turn her head to face him and only hummed in response to his answer. A look of contemplation appeared on her face as she kept quiet for nearly another minute. Ken swore it felt like an eternity.

“What if–” She sighed. “What if we fuck up and hurt each other? What then?”

Ken somehow knew that she already knew that there was no way she could ever fuck him up. (She already did, anyway, literally and figuratively.) Not with how he looked at her, not with how he reached out to hold her hand, not with how he promptly turned his head to face the ceiling once she was turning to look at him. Perhaps, what she was looking for was the reassurance that he wouldn’t fuck her up. He squeezed her hand when the thought crossed his mind.

“I’ll still be your friend anyways,” he said, softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

A chuckle left her lips then. She didn’t let go of his hand as she moved to hover over him, replacing the twinkling manmade constellations in his sight. (He thought she was brighter than any star in the sky, anyway.) He raised his brow when he saw the mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned down, her lips nearly closing in on his.

The grin she had on her face was enough to tell him she was up to no good. “Are you a masochist?”

“You–seriously?”

He might’ve groaned from annoyance, but the way her body shook with laughter on top of him was enough to make that godawful warmth bloom in his chest. He pulled her in for a kiss, though he wasn’t sure if it was to shut her up or if he just wanted to, and he thought that if anyone were to see them like this, no one would ever believe him if he told them that they were just best friends. Hell, everyone had enough of his answer whenever they asked him about it at school, and he was even picked on again at some point—but not for how he looked or talked. No, he was picked on for being her “best friend” because no matter how many people had tried to make her theirs, she kept coming back to him. But then they would find Ken making out with one of the cheerleaders under the bleachers and her sucking off some guy from the football team at some senior’s house party. It was confusing for everyone, but even more so for Ken, because every time she asked him to pick her up from God-knows-where, he would see red when she saw her huffing out a smoke, disheveled because of someone who was not him.

And, of course, like all fever dreams, he had to wake himself up from it.

“–Sato.”

Two things snapped Ken out of his trance then. First, it was the voice that called out to him, then it was the pain in his shoulder. Ken found himself standing on the batter box in Tokyo Dome, a bat in his hand, and his breath was ragged. The seats were empty, the sky was turning dark, and then he remembered that he was at practice. He was at practice, not on the porch at her old house in Los Angeles holding her close as she cried over that one guy who supposedly broke her heart. He was at practice, not at the frat party where he met her again for the first time after months of no contact and saw her giggling on the lap of some jock. He was at practice, not in front of the diner they used to go to almost every other day where he said awful things he didn’t mean and maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why she had left for Japan the next day. (She had waited for him to come to the airport, to at least apologize, but he never came. He had turned off his phone during practice.)

Ken sighed and lowered his bat, hissing when he rolled his left shoulder. He steadied his breathing and regained his composure before his eyes flickered to the field. His teammates were waiting for him to hit another ball so they could continue their fielding practice. Then, he turned to the one in front of him—Yoshida, right?—whose voice pulled him out of his train of thought. Yoshida raised his brow when he locked eyes with Ken.

“Are you distracted or something?”

It was his turn to frown. “What?”

“Are you distracted by the new girl or something? You kept looking back at the dugout earlier.”

Ken almost dropped his bat when he heard that, his neck turning so quickly that he was surprised he didn’t give himself a whiplash. “What?”

Yoshida nodded in the direction of the dugout, and Ken turned to look. His grip around the bat tightened as his eyes darted towards the dugout. Her back was facing the field, leaning against the metal fence that divided the field and the dugout. Her arms held a clipboard to her chest, and he could only see her side profile from where he was standing as she spoke with Coach Shimura. The two of them looked familiar already—he really didn’t know how she did it, given that he was still at odds with the coach, but it was so her, he thought, the way she could get along with all the people he couldn’t—as Coach Shimura was talking more expressively with her than he had ever seen him. She was nodding to whatever Coach Shimura was talking about with a smile on her face, one that didn’t reach her eyes, and he berated himself because why and how the fuck could you tell from this distance? Ken’s lips parted as Coach Shimura’s expression changed and nodded in his direction, and his breath hitched as he saw her turning slightly towards him.

Ken’s heart dropped as the smile on her face faltered, replaced by an unimpressed look and an air of disdain that made him shiver. The world seemed to stop right then and there; even when she looked at him as if he was the reason behind her suffering—which was probably true, to an extent—he couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she was. Even with the hint of blood between her slightly cracked lips and the dark circles under her eyes that she didn’t bother to hide with some concealer. Even with how she looked even paler than she was when they were still in Los Angeles and how her cheekbones seemed to protrude and her cheeks seemed more hollow. She was beautiful, yet she contrasted her old self, which bothered him so much that dread started to pool in his stomach. Ken knew her and would even say he knew too much of her. But, right at that moment, it was as if he was looking straight into a stranger’s eyes and not the pair he had fallen in love with, as if he was looking at the stuff of his nightmares and not the girl of his dreams, as if he had never known her at all.

(What if it was true?)

Ken pinched his arm, hard, and winced when the pain seared through his body and kickstarted another throbbing ache in his shoulder. None of the stuff of his fever dreams, the dread and peculiarity of it, should have been real. This was real. So, if this was real, then God must not only be fucking joking, but He must’ve been thoroughly fucking evil to be putting him through this.

“Oh, fuck.”

[evileyedoll]

Blue Ember

 *hair toss* I guess even robots can be a little bit devilish

A bit more organic than I'd prefer for something for march of robots, but I'm happy with the design nonetheless :>. This one's meant to be an oni rather than a demon but I guess there's enough overlap that the theme kinda gets across.

If we're talking lore for my setting, the regular robots are meant to be characters, but the cabal of Over Gods are meant to have speechless "demon" servants that I've tentatively called Machine Daemons. I often try to think about ways to differentiate these two groups beyond the fact that daemons don't talk (or vibrate their skin to produce words etc). Sometimes I picture daemons as more savage and jaggedly shaped, other times I think they should have horns or halos because they're servants of Divinity ... though nothing has stuck so far.

One thing that has been somewhat stable though is that the more powerful the form they perma-transform into is the more likely the individual is to be overtaken by one of the Over Gods - those Over Gods are like giant supercomputers with their own pocket dimensions, so they exert strong influence wherever they can.

A lot of cyborgs carry a little bit of influence with them because the connection to the Over Gods lets them perform useful skills, magics and feats. This way they can teach each other abilities even when they respectively have extremely different body formats.

Most of the illustrations I post are oneshots, so maybe these and the accompanying writings are all my practice attempts to get to a place where I know exactly what the things in my setting should look / be like. Part of the fun comes from the exploration and not knowing where I'll take these.

[ourwitching]

CUDA Graphs can provide a significant performance increase, as the driver is able to optimize exe...

[deusvervewrites]

Ask Game: Izuku is a DnD Druid.

On a space station in the Aletheia Star System--a Science-Fantasy Space-Opera-type setting--an experiment was conducted to open a portal into subspace. The hope was to achieve a new form of FTL travel by taking a quick shortcut outside of spacetime. It... didn't work as planned. Instead, the portal opened a hole into another dimension, snagging small child Midoriya Izuku and dragging him through. "Well Shit," said the scientists. "We just committed the most expensive and convoluted kidnapping in history, on accident." So they decided to take responsibility for this fuckup and take care of him while they tried to figure out how to send him home.

In typical Space Opera fashion, an evil wizard decided to conquer the galaxy as one does, so before the scientists could finish their work to send Midoriya home, the station was besieged and Midoriya ended up getting sent off in a shuttle, landing on a verdant planet home to powerful nature spirits.

The spirits performed an organ transplant using something that's kind of an organ and kind of a seed which connects him with insects, and taught Midoriya the art of nature magic. Eventually Midoriya left, armed with his newfound training and powers. looking for a way to return home.

The aforementioned evil wizard has the subspace portal because of course so Midoriya ends up part of the team of plucky heroes out to stop their machinations. After their victory, Midoriya says his goodbyes and finally returns to Japan. Inko has never been happier in her life than when he arrives at their door.

Midoriya still wants to be a Hero more than anything, even after all this shit he went through in Aletheia. And hey, his new seed-organ-implant-thing gives him some fucking crazy recon powers (plus basically supercomputer brain like what I headcanon Hawks has) in addition to nature magic and shapeshifting, so he's ready to take UA by storm. The real question is if UA is ready for him.

[retropopcult]

The Cray X-MP was a supercomputer designed, built and sold by Cray Research. It was announced in 1982 as the "cleaned up" successor to the 1975 Cray-1, and was the world's fastest computer from 1983 to 1985 with a quad-processor system performance of 800 MFLOPS. The principal designer was Steve Chen.