#Trapezoid Roll Forming Line

[thefandomsfervent]

JayVik x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 24) - Raw Umber

Gala chapter coming soooon <3

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

not that I'm losing steam with this fic, but it has inpsired so many other things that i want to write too. Would y'all want other fics? I have other fics. Not written but they're up there. floating in my mind. This fic may enter a hiatus after a few more chapters so I can start other projects. Stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3 These aren't beta read, didn't really edit this one. May fix it up later this upcoming week <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

You had shocked yourself saying you’d go, the heat of the moment and your own thoughts getting to you. Even more shocked when it seemed like Viktor had changed his mind on going a couple days after. A few days have passed since then.

Piltover lived for its socialite opportunities. Parties, dinners, galas, events, parades, and even luncheons were ever present in the calendar year. You were well aware of the expectations set for each occasion, and of how lacking your wardrobe was for it. Now you have around two weeks to find suitable attire. That itself wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t just placed a supply order. Whatever funds you may have had for a new dress or jewelry would be shipped in the form of oil paints and new brushes. You had dresses from gallery showings at the Institute, some old faithfuls hung in the back of your closet. “One of them would have to do.” With that you try to push all the wandering thoughts away.  

You take in the empty lab. Jayce was gone today, helping out with the forge. And it was still early enough in the day that Viktor was still recovering from whatever late night musings kept him up. No time to waste then. Despite it feeling like Spring had just started, Summer was looming above. And that meant that Autumn and Winter would follow suit. Your paints were drying fairly quickly in the heat but on humid rainy days it would set you back days, and the winter cold would mean that it may take a week for layers to dry. Today was a perfect day, the air was still and warm. Your washes of color didn’t take long at all to settle on the canvas. Purple, yellow, green, pink. Thin layers to color skin, thicker strokes of pale and tan flesh, blocking out arms and hands. Their faces were still unpainted, focusing on their hands and their clothes.

When it came time to finally realize their faces on the canvas, you wanted to make sure you’d be uninterrupted. You were considering even taking the whole painting back to your studio to work on it then. That would be then, and this was now. 

Right now you were in your element, breaking it all down into colors and shapes. Hands were easiest to deal with when you weren’t stuck on making them be hands, but connected shapes. Shapes can be shaded for depth, definition given with the context of what was around them. Long fingers were broken down into rectangles and rounded corners, diagonal angles and warm tones. Shifting between tinges of blue and green, purple and yellow. Red and Pink on knuckles, knuckles were just cut circles. The meat of a hand was an oval, a trapezoid, barely there veins were carefully lined to curve into wrists. Shapes and colors could be attributed to many things. To create form. An image. To build something from the ground up whether that was two or three-dimensional. And it could show temperature. States of matter. Emotion. 

Warmth was soft, it could be an orange glow from a candle flame, it could be the plush lining of a jacket. It could be the way hands held their tools, held each other. It could be shown in the richness of all hues of the Academy outfits that needed detailing next. Trading a flat wash brush for a thin liner, switching gears to focus on the details of shirt cuffs. 

“Wow.” You jump, the paintbrush dropping to the ground with a clatter. It rolls away from your station and you turn to follow its trail. When it stops at a pair of black boots your eyes shift to the source of your startling. A familiar face and that gap toothed grin greeting you with a small wave.  

“Oh gods, Jayce” You turn back to the painting. You’d gotten one hand done for each of them, where they were in a neutral light between the night and day sides of the work. 

“You’re easy to scare. Have you ever noticed that?” He says it with a laugh, he sounds tired. His steps are slow and heavy behind you. 

“Maybe I’m too busy getting scared to see the pattern.” The words come out in a huff, but you smile in thanks when he hands you the paintbrush over your shoulder. Now that you’ve settled you’re able to focus. Oh, well now your heart was beating too fast for an entirely different reason. You’d seen him come back before, sweaty brow and his clothes covered in soot. But this was… different. “I thought you were working at the Forge today?” The paintbrush in your hand gestures to his attire, and lack thereof. 

Same black boots being the only familiar attire to you. Brown pants that were similar to the Academy uniform. A brace-like toolbelt hugging his waist tightly. And then, nothing. No shirt. Just soot-splotches on skin and those elbow high gloves. His hair is tousled in a way you haven’t seen before, sticky to his forehead. You weren’t sure how far the forge was, but you were wondering how far he had to walk to get here. Run even, if he was as tired as you thought. 

“I was! But then I had an idea for Hextech and-” His eyes look around the lab. “Viktor isn’t in yet?” You don’t miss the slump in his shoulders, despite how small it was. A shake of the head is all you can give him, trying to catch your words, and make your eyes stay on his face. Having drawn him for as long as you had, you knew his proportions were insane. But this was just rude. The difference between his shoulders and his waist, especially with that belt on, was insane. You could probably pass off any lingering stares with that excuse. If it weren’t for the blush that you felt warming your cheeks. 

“You wouldn’t want to lose track of it. He’ll be here eventually.” You try to keep your voice even while gesturing to the chalkboard behind them, Viktor had cleared it sometime last night after copying down notes. A whole space for Jayce to work on. He smiles before clapping a gloved hand on your shoulder. It was heavier than usual, the insulated leather a thick press. The smell of oil and charcoal was not foreign to you, but they looked different here. Smelt different on him. He’s already going to the board, taking the gloves off to reveal a stark line of dirt and skin. 

“This cannot be fair.” A reward and a punishment dangling in front of you. Self indulgent stares at his broad back or returning to the bliss of full force work. Jayce seemed to be doing the latter, books propped open on the ledge for reference. The soft scraping of chalk on the board and excited mutterings, circles and lines, runes and words, arrows and numbers. In the span of maybe 10 minutes he had filled half the board with words you couldn’t quite decipher. As he reached across to scribble his theories the skin of his back was pulled taut, the muscles there were defined. Visible. A part of you wonders how they would feel under your fingertips, the movement and the power. Another part of you wishes you were bold enough to ask to draw him. Not that you couldn’t now, but for a real figure study. His physique was an anatomical study dream. 

Enough ogling. Jayce was working, deeply and with vigor. You should be doing the same. The cuffs needed some detailing, even if it was not nearly as entertaining. 

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Admittedly, Jayce did want to go to the gala. There were many days that he wanted to be at the lab or the forge or his bed more than anything else, but when you first came here Heimerdinger mentioned something that Jayce couldn’t let go. “You boys will be doing more dinners and speeches and galas and the like. It comes with the territory.” Anxiety was a feeling he wasn’t unfamiliar with. The thought of having to watch every interaction he makes? Every decision? It filled him with dread. This may be one of the last times he and Viktor could go out, and now as a couple, without too many prying eyes. The idea only became more enticing when you said that you’d like to go. Imagining you in some delicious draping gown, or would you prefer a tighter dress that revealed your thighs and arms? The sight of you and Viktor both in finery that daily wear didn’t require might make his heart beat out of his chest. An energy he would gladly redirect to more physical work. 

There was something about the Forge that relaxed him. A completely different process from the equations of the lab. Helping out in the Forge was easy because the team there knew he was skilled enough to handle almost anything that they could throw at him. It was especially helpful during Holiday seasons. Things were slow at the Academy and he would grow restless with nothing to do. Making gifts and construction orders was an easy way to stay busy. Today Jayce started out on a bulk order, early enough in the day that there weren’t many people there. It quickly devolved into new prototypes for the lab, and that turned into thinking about the lab. About Hextech. In his own station there was no paper to write down on. He was able to stave off some of the racing thoughts by stealing the back of old order papers, but eventually there was no more room in the margins. And before he knew it he was running across Piltover desperate to cling onto the ideas in his head before he lost them. 

Practically bursting into the lab, eyes wide, holding on to several quickly loosening mental threads. The chalkboard was empty. Good! Great! An empty base, more movement, no need to turn pages that filled too quickly and then having to flip back for references. In the lab there was also you, working on your painting. The morning light filtering through the window, you were hunched in a position that could not be comfortable. He walks closer. Eyes laser-focused onto the canvas in front of you, hand slowly moving across the hands you were bringing to life. You looked intense and gentle, a soft smile on your lips. Humming some tune he didn’t recognize. He didn’t mean to speak, but the moment was so unique. Often there was not an opportunity to admire you without your noticing, without flustering you. 

Suddenly you whorl around, your paintbrush on the ground. All the stillness is catching up to Jayce, he’s tired. Having pushed himself at the Forge, pushed himself to run, and now? Now he needed to work. Viktor may not be there to bounce ideas off of but he could work without his partner for now. Still, he catches your eyes and blush. He is no stranger to being stared at. It fluffs up his ego for a minute, and if he wasn’t so ready to get to work he would have gladly pushed the moment. Seen if he could get you to admit what you were looking at. If you were looking for anything. Now is not the time for distractions, as delicious as they may be. 

Jayce moves his attention to the board.

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-------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 23.-Part 25.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .---------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[pebmanufacturer12]

Best Quality Metro sheet manufacturers in India

Metro Sheet Manufacturers in India: Powering the Growth of PEB Construction

India’s construction industry is experiencing rapid evolution, driven by the increasing demand for fast, durable, and cost-effective building solutions. One of the key innovations shaping this transformation is the rise of Pre-Engineered Buildings (PEBs)—steel structures that are pre-designed, factory-fabricated, and assembled on-site. As the backbone of PEB cladding and roofing systems, Metro sheet manufacturers in India are playing a pivotal role in enabling this shift toward modern infrastructure development.

What Are Metro Sheets?

Metro sheets refer to high-quality, profiled metal sheets commonly used for roofing and wall cladding in industrial, commercial, and residential buildings. These sheets are typically made from galvanized steel, Galvalume, or aluminum, and often come with protective coatings and attractive color finishes. Their durability, light weight, and corrosion resistance make them ideal for a wide range of construction applications—particularly in pre-engineered steel structures.

Metro sheets are available in various profiles, including trapezoidal, corrugated, and standing seam, offering versatility in design while ensuring strength and weather protection. These sheets serve as both functional and aesthetic elements in PEB construction.

Role of Metro Sheet Manufacturers in the PEB Industry

In the context of PEBs, metro sheets act as the external skin of the building, providing structural protection, insulation, and visual appeal. PEB manufacturers rely on metro sheet suppliers to provide high-precision, quality-controlled materials that align with the specific dimensions and performance requirements of their projects.

Key contributions of metro sheet manufacturers to the PEB sector include:

Customization: Sheets are produced to exact sizes, thicknesses, and finishes as per PEB design requirements.

High Production Standards: Use of advanced roll-forming machines and automated production lines ensures consistent quality and precision.

Durability and Protection: Coated sheets protect steel frames from weather elements, enhancing the lifespan of the building.

Speed of Construction: Pre-fabricated sheets enable quick installation, reducing project timelines and labor costs.

By offering reliable supply chains and consistent quality, metro sheet manufacturers support the seamless execution of PEB projects across India.

Market Demand and Industrial Applications

The Indian PEB market is growing rapidly due to increased demand in sectors like logistics, warehousing, manufacturing, agriculture, aviation, and commercial development. With this growth, the demand for superior roofing and cladding materials has also surged—placing metro sheet manufacturers in a critical position.

Some common applications of metro sheets in PEBs include:

Warehouses and distribution centers

Cold storage and agro-processing units

Airports and hangars

Manufacturing plants and workshops

Commercial and institutional buildings

Residential roofing and farm structures

The ability of metro sheets to withstand harsh environments, including heat, rain, and wind, makes them especially suitable for diverse Indian climatic conditions.

Conclusion

Metro sheet manufacturers in India are integral to the success of the growing PEB industry. By delivering high-quality, customizable, and durable roofing and cladding solutions, they empower PEB manufacturers to construct modern, efficient, and sustainable buildings across the country. As demand for rapid and resilient infrastructure continues to grow, the collaboration between metro sheet and PEB manufacturers will remain a cornerstone of India’s construction future.

Visit:- https://www.pebmanufacturers.in/metro-sheet.html

[elegantemma]

IBR 750roll forming machine st

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[cringemantumble]

A stone-faced woman looked out to the still waters surrounding her island castle lazily. She watched with a face of half-anticipation, like a child who has five fireworks and three have been duds. The waves ebbed and flowed, near uniform in their washing upon the shores as the line of their reach was formed and reformed. She began drooping, her head slipping under her palm.

An upright circle formed in the water, half of it submerged with a mirrored twin forming not 10 feet from it. A large catfish crashed through, with a bunnyman riding atop, holding on by the fish’s whiskers like two long ropes. “Gettttttt the tra-“ said the bun, a reverberating voice gaining pitch within one circle and cutting him off as they closed around him. “The Tra-“ she hears again, the fish and man making a brief appearance as two new portals formed a distance from the original spot, closing and forming just as quickly. “Tra- Tra- Tra” the bunny tried to finish, having only half seconds between their portal travel, each time forming at random intervals and distances”.

Myfanwy stood at attention now, a smile curled with a light skipping in her heart. “Whatever could he want” she mused outloud, staring impishly at the Trapezoid that accompanied her hand on the railing. Her fingers inched towards it like a teenager at a ball. “THE TRAPEZOID” came all too closely and all too loudly, his appearance almost making landfall beside her. She unfurled from her surprise, took the shape, and clicked it open. The mirror within shone a light that captured a considerable space in front of it, forming four points in the sky that refracted and looked to cut the horizon.

The portal now only looped within the boundaries of the light’s formation. Jacques and the fish’s movements appeared like the single frames in an animation, each movement captured slowly, like the seconds were longer and frozen. He made his way forward along the fish, letting the whiskers drop back to their rightful place of dragging mud. He crouched, jumped into the air and spun, leaving the fish to perpetually chase itself, before landing right where he jumped with a hard downwards kick.

The catfish bounced hard down to the mud, floated back to the top, and rolled its tongue out of its mouth. Jacques sat on top of his prize, stared back to the castle’s maiden, and gave a sitting cheer. She coquettishly waved back as he dragged the fat catfish to the shore by its whiskers.

[itcars]

First Look: The Maserati Grecale 

Grecale strikes the right balance between versatility, elegance, performance and innovation, guaranteeing performance, comfort and safety, all at the same time. These features are combined with off-road capabilities and uncompromising driving pleasure.

A wide range of engines is available: conventional internal combustion, hybrid and, in a year’s time, Grecale will also be the first full-electric SUV in Maserati history.

Grecale strikes the right balance between versatility, elegance, performance and innovation, guaranteeing performance, comfort and safety, all at the same time. These features are combined with off-road capabilities and uncompromising driving pleasure.

Developed at the Maserati Innovation Lab in Modena, the new SUV is produced at the Cassino plant.

Grecale is a range within the range, the Trident brand’s fullest ever.

An extremely wide range of engines is available: conventional internal combustion, hybrid and, in a year’s time, Grecale will also be the first full-electric SUV in Maserati history.

Three versions will be rolled out at launch: GT, powered by a four-cylinder mild hybrid engine capable of delivering 300 hp; Modena, with a four-cylinder 330-hp mild hybrid engine; and the powerful Trofeo, equipped with a high-performance 3.0L 530-hp petrol V6 based on the Nettuno engine fitted to the MC20. At launch, the Grecale is also available in the PrimaSerie Launch Edition, a limited edition featuring exclusive content.

To complete the range, the Grecale Folgore, the 100% electric version with 400V technology.

The new SUV stands out in terms of spaciousness and comfort, boasting an impressive set of “best-in-class” features. It is best-in-class in terms of interior space, driveability, handling, acceleration (0-100 km/h in 3.8 seconds – on the Trofeo), top speed (285 km/h – again on the Trofeo), sound quality and extensive use of fine materials such as wood, carbon fibre and leather.

Its dimensions are a major factor: in the GT version, Grecale is 4,846 mm long with a wheelbase of 2,901 mm, a height of 1,670 mm, a width of 2,163 mm (including wing mirrors), with a rear wheel track of 1,948 mm (and even greater in the Trofeo).

The design of Grecale embraces Maserati’s new visual symbol, which distinguishes every new model since the MC20. The front features a low and imposing grille. The profile is notable for its contrast between purity and technique, with a highly fluid body featuring meandering, visual forms and its technical components highlighted by the use of carbon fibre. In the rear, the boomerang taillights are inspired by the Giugiaro 3200 GT and fit in with the trapezoidal line, made even more striking by the coupé effect of the cabin and its finish like a sports car's.

[dk-metals]

Fastener thread processing method, including internal and external threads

Thread processing is a process that uses tools to make threads and uses cutting, turning, milling, grinding and other processes to process workpieces. Generally, it refers to the method of processing threads on the workpiece with shaped tools or abrasive tools. There are mainly the following methods of fastener thread processing:

1. Thread cutting

Generally refers to the method of machining threads on a workpiece with a forming tool or an abrasive tool, which mainly includes turning, milling, tapping, threading grinding, grinding, and whirlwind cutting. When turning, milling and grinding threads, the transmission chain of the machine tool ensures that the turning tool, milling cutter or grinding wheel moves along the axis of the workpiece accurately and uniformly for each revolution of the workpiece.

When tapping or threading, the tool (tap or die) rotates relative to the workpiece, and the first formed thread groove guides the tool (or workpiece) to move axially.

2. Thread turning

For turning threads on a lathe, a forming turning tool or a thread comb tool can be used. Turning threads with a forming turning tool is a common method for single-piece and small batch production of threaded workpieces due to the simple tool structure; turning threads with a thread comb has high production efficiency, but the tool structure is complex, which is only suitable for medium and mass production. Turning fine-tooth short-threaded workpieces.

The pitch accuracy of the trapezoidal thread turning on an ordinary lathe can generally only reach 8-9 (JB2886-81, the same below); when threading on a specialized threading lathe, the productivity or accuracy can be significantly improved.

3. Thread milling

Milling is performed on a thread milling machine with a disk milling cutter or a comb milling cutter. Disc-shaped milling cutters are mainly used for milling trapezoidal external threads on screw, worm and other workpieces. The comb milling cutter is used for milling internal and external common threads and taper threads. Since it is milled with a multi-edge milling cutter, the length of its working part is greater than the length of the thread being machined, so the workpiece can be machined only by rotating 1.25 to 1.5 revolutions Finished, the productivity is high.

The pitch accuracy of thread milling can generally reach 8 to 9, and the surface roughness is R5 to 0.63 microns. This method is suitable for mass production of general precision threaded workpieces or rough machining before grinding.

4. Thread grinding

It is mainly used for processing precision threads of hardened workpieces on thread grinders. According to the different cross-sectional shapes of the grinding wheels, there are two types of single-line grinding wheels and multi-line grinding wheels. The pitch accuracy that can be achieved by single-line grinding wheel grinding is 5 to 6, and the surface roughness is R1.25 to 0.08 microns, and the grinding wheel dressing is more convenient. This method is suitable for grinding precision lead screws, thread gauges, worms, small batches of threaded workpieces and relieving precision hobs.

Multi-line grinding wheel grinding is divided into two types: longitudinal grinding method and plunge grinding method. The width of the grinding wheel of the longitudinal grinding method is smaller than the length of the thread to be ground, and the thread can be ground to the final size by moving the grinding wheel one or several strokes in the longitudinal direction. The width of the grinding wheel of the plunge grinding method is greater than the length of the thread to be ground. The grinding wheel cuts into the surface of the workpiece radially, and the workpiece can be ground after about 1.25 revolutions. The productivity is higher, but the accuracy is slightly lower, and the dressing of the grinding wheel is more complicated. The plunge grinding method is suitable for relieving large batches of taps and grinding certain fastening threads.

5. Thread grinding

Use softer materials such as cast iron to make nut-type or screw-type thread grinds, and perform forward and reverse rotation grinding on the parts of the machined threads with pitch errors on the workpiece to improve the pitch accuracy. Hardened internal threads are usually ground to eliminate deformation and improve accuracy.

6. Tapping and threading

Tapping is to use a certain torque to screw the tap into the pre-drilled bottom hole on the workpiece to process the internal thread.

Threading is to use a die to cut an external thread on a bar (or tube) workpiece. The processing accuracy of tapping or threading depends on the accuracy of the tap or die. Although there are many methods for processing internal and external threads, small diameter internal threads can only be processed by taps. Tapping and threading can be operated manually, or lathes, drilling machines, tapping machines and threading machines can also be used.

7. Thread rolling

The processing method of plastically deforming the workpiece with a forming rolling die to obtain a thread. Thread rolling is generally performed on a thread rolling machine or an automatic lathe with an automatic opening and closing thread rolling head. It is suitable for mass production standards. External threads of fasteners and other threaded couplings.

[wordswithkittywitch]

Hi! I'm looking to start making my own clothes, mostly because I recently purchased and then subsequently ruined (bleached) the perfect tunic/ kurti and it's no longer being sold. I want to make a replacement. Do you have any advice for getting started? Where can I find cloth? What measurements do I need to take of myself? How much do I add to the cloth in addition to those measurements to allow for seams? Other advice for a beginner?(And maybe a primer on putting pockets in pants and dresses?)

Alright. I’ll see what I can do to help you. In order of asking:

Where to find cloth: I mostly buy my cloth either at Joann’s fabric or at fabric booths at SCA events. I don’t like buying cloth online unless I have to. I would recommend doing an internet search for fabric stores in your area and checking them out. Of course, you can order fabric online but I don’t recommend it if you’re just getting started.

You don’t need to know as much about fabric if you can touch it when you buy it, because if you know you’re looking for 100% cotton chintz with a chevron pattern you can search for that online. But if you only know that you want something soft, not fuzzy, and green, you’re much better off going through a store and looking at the stock.

What measurements do you need: This depends on what you’re going to be making. Here’s a generic illustration covering most measurements you might need.

(Source)

You probably won’t need all of these measurements for any one garment. Getting your back measurement is hard to do on your own, so it helps to have someone measure that for you. For a tunic, the important measurements are shoulder to shoulder, bust, waist, hips, arm length, and neck to wherever you want the tunic to stop.

If, heaven forbid, you don’t even have a measuring tape, you can wrap a ribbon or a piece of string around yourself and then measure that with a ruler.

How much cloth do you need: This depends on how much seam allowance you’re going to need. In most cases, I use a rolled seam, so I need about three quarters of an inch more than the actual size of the finished garment.

If the cloth is a type that tends to fray, cut the pieces about half an inch to an inch larger than you normally would, then put in a French seam. Whenever I buy cloth, I tend to buy an extra half a yard to a yard in case something goes wrong with the piecing.

But in general, try laying out a garment with the same amount of fabric on a table, get an idea of how much you’d need to duplicate it, and then add half a yard.

Advice for getting started: Do not be afraid of patterns. It isn’t cheating, it isn’t tracing, it’s using the same resources used by the entire industry from professionals to beginners.

Especially if you want to make trousers. Trousers are some of the hardest garments to make and the easiest garments to become terrifically uncomfortable if made wrong.

As with most creative endeavours, the first few projects are going to be a lot more impressive to yourself before you get used to it. Unlike many other creative endeavours, the first fruits of your labour are more likely to stick around and keep being used long after you start getting good at it.

Also, this applies to most things, but especially sewing: when you make a mistake, pay attention to how you made it. Once I sewed a sleeve into the neckhole twice because I was tired. Now I always pin the sleeves on and then hold up the garment and look at it to make sure I’m not doing anything quite that stupid. And sometimes, I was about to, because no matter how long you’ve been sewing you can do something stupid if you aren’t paying attention.

Basic pocketing:

If you’re making trousers, I really recommend buying a pattern with pockets. if the pockets in the pattern are too small, just make them longer. Sadly, you cannot make the pockets wider than the leg of the trousers because we are not timelords. This tutorial on extending pockets in jeans can easily be applied to making your own pants, just skip the step of making pockets that aren’t large enough in the first place.

But if you’re making a skirt, things get much easier.

Let us say you’ve cut out a basic panel skirt, which is three to six trapezoids attached to a waistband. (the waistband could be a tube covering elastic, or a folded over piece of fabric with a fastening like a hook and eye or a button)

This pattern can be used on any fabric that does not have a pattern with a distinct top and bottom, and is easily adjusted to make it fit pretty much anyone.

Fold your fabric neatly in half (it’s folded badly in the picture just so you can tell it’s folded). 

Fold over the large rectangles cut out at the bottom. These will be your pockets.

The narrow rectangles at the top will become your waistband and can be any width you like. If your waist is smaller around than the fabric is wide, you’ll only need to cut one, but be sure to cut it twice as wide as you want the waistband to be (plus seam allowance) because it’s going to be folded over.

Cut the rest of the fabric into trapezoids as long as you want your skirt to be. Of course, the trapezoids will only form on the fold, and across from them you’ll get two triangles. Sew two of them together, bam. You’ve got another trapezoid. I recommend putting the panels with a seam down the middle on the sides and the big trapezoids you cut in the front and back, this makes it look intentional.

Add the pockets to the sides of the front panel, then attach the rest of the panels to each other. Then you attach the waistband. And finally, the hard part. Put on your skirt, with is more or less finished except for the hem. Stand on a chair and get someone to trim the bottom with the scissors parallel to the ground. The bottom of the skirt is now slightly curved, meaning it will look like it’s a flat line. Now you can hem it.

You can cut a curve onto the bottom of the skirt while not wearing it, of course, but if you do this it will not take into account your hips and bum, and unless you are a perfect cylinder this means that the back of the skirt will be higher than the back of the skirt. So find someone to help you trim the bottom. 

Now here’s the tips that will work with any skirt pattern: To help distribute the weight of the contents of your pockets, attach the top of the pocket to the waistband of your skirt and make the pockets wide enough to be attached to the seams of the skirt. This distributes the weight across the waistband and makes it more comfortable to wear when you’ve stuck a couple loaves of bread, your wallet, your cell phone, and the dead sea scrolls in there.

Happy sewing!

[calliecrossroad]

Short Circuit

(Here’s a little teaser of an upcoming Ebony Maw x OC fanfiction I am working on. I haven’t written a fanfic in so long, it feels good to stretch my legs again, so to speak.)

Summary: A sudden inter-dimensional rift occurs in the laboratory of Stark Industries. Eliza Chesterfield, a young inventor working alongside Tony Stark attempting to unravel the mystery of her technokinesis, finds herself aboard none other than the Sanctuary II, The Mad Titan’s personal war ship. Though instead of killing her Thanos sees untapped potential within the young girls powers, and leaves her to the will of his most trusted of children, Ebony Maw.

Like and tell me what you all think of this so far! Feel free to ask any questions you may have, and I will have the first official chapter released very soon in the future.

“I’m not seeing anything.” I lift my hands off of the exoskeleton, being careful not to pull any wires loose like the last dozen times.

“Eliza, what do you mean ‘You don’t see anything? How are we going to make a suit that will interface with your powers if we can’t even get this project off the ground?” Both Tony Stark and I let out a deep sigh,

“But I thought we’re not making a suit for me. I thought that the whole point of this project is to figure out a way to create a system for your suits that will mimic my technokinetic abilities. You know, to make them literally sync up with you.” The inventor rolls his eyes, which I am used to seeing on an almost daily basis now that we’re something akin to lab partners despite me being only 23 years old.

“You say that like we’re just trying to rebuild grandpa’s old chevy. I haven’t gotten close to even figuring out where your powers stem from. I mean, do you even know?” I shrug,

“I told you before, you know just as much as I do about all this. I was hoping you’d be the one to figure it out for me. Besides, I’m sick of being ‘Eliza Chesterfield, the freaky smart girl who destroys people’s cell phones just by touching them’. I want to become a hero like you, like Ironman. I even came up with a superhero name: ‘Short Circuit’! Cause, you know, I’m short and I can control electronics.” Tony raises an eyebrow,

“‘Short Circuit’? I kinda like it,” he picks up a glass and quickly takes a sip. “a little juvenile though.” I scoff and look at the clock,

“Drinking already, Mr. Stark? It’s only 1:30 in the afternoon.” He sets down the glass and walks back to the suit-in-progress,

“Like Mr. Bennett says, it’s five o’clock somewhere. Besides, it helps me think. Now come on Eliza, let’s try it again, and this time really give it some juice.”

I nod, placing my hands back on the machine and closing my eyes. I take a deep breath and the darkness blooms into thousands of strings of code, glowing all different colors. The strings of numbers melt and form different shapes, working as both puzzles for me to solve and road signs for me to follow in order to gain control of the machine they were part of. All I have to do now is arrange the shapes in the right orders.

I start at a cluster of red triangles. I add a blue rhombus, maybe a chartreuse circle or two, and a fuschia trapezoid for good measure.

Line them all up and….*BOOM!!*

A bolt of energy flashes before my eyes. One moment I feel as though my body is being torn to shreds, but the next is pure silence.

My eyelids fly open and I am expecting to see the laboratory of Stark Tower, but this is...wrong.

The room I’m in has at least tripled in size, the ceilings are high and the air is cold. Where there used to be computer monitors, there are now enormous holograms of unknown tech, written in an alien language I have no hope in deciphering. 

My heart is beating fast, and inside my head confusion and panic are becoming very good friends. I pull myself to my feet and my eyes dart around the room, looking for any sign at all of familiarity. Unfortunately instead, they fall on a tall figure hunched over a large metal table across the room. Their skin seems to have a blue or purple tint to it and their hair looks thin and silver.

Their clothing resembles something a clergyman would wear, and one could almost mistake them for a priest if it wasn’t for the tools in his hands making sparks fly up from an unknown piece of technology.

I pray he is too invested in his work to even notice me, but I am sorely mistaken. 

As soon as I try to take one single step, the figure freezes. They raise their left hand, and without warning I am being flung straight across the room towards them, my feet never touching the ground.

They turn around and my heart stops the moment my eyes meet theirs. 

The unnatural blue glow they hold pierces into my soul, and it makes me feel naked and oh so vulnerable. 

“My, my, look what the inter-dimensional cat has dragged in.”

[screechingfestivalpost]

Commercial Skip Bins - Trapezoid Or Stacked Trapezoid?

There are two basic shapes of commercial skip bins - trapezoid and stacked trapezoid. Which is better? What will fit your needs? Here are a few suggestions. To save money, choose a trapezoid if you don't have a large budget and you can't fit the entire waste in a standard bin. Alternatively, you can choose a two-sided trapezoid.

Trapezoid or two stacked trapezoids

A skip bin is a rectangular container with a transverse cross-section that is either a trapezoid or two stacked trapezeoids. The bottom edge of the lower trapezoid is narrower than the top edge and the sides of the bin are longer than the top. Both ends of the skip bin usually have lugs for attaching chains to lift the skip bin. Large bins may have a hinged door on the end for manual offloading. Both shapes are durable and rugged.

The shape of a commercial skip bin is usually a trapezoid, which is a quadrilateral with two sides that are parallel. The sides are joined at their midpoints and the corresponding angles on both sides are called base angles. In order to build commercial skip bins with the correct shape, you must use the base angles of the bin to guide the process.

A trapezoid is constructed from a pair of parallel lines that form a circle. The interior angles of each leg are called supplementary angles. A trapezoid has two parallel lines that are cut by the transversal (one of the legs).

The Trapezoid or two layered trapezoids used for commercial skip bins are ideally suited for industrial and construction waste. They are designed for lifting and can be stacked vertically or horizontally. In addition, they are lightweight and easy to handle. This makes them easy to transport and is ideal for loading construction waste. You can choose between open and roll-off skips.

Trapezoid

The transverse cross-section of a commercial skip bin is usually a trapezoid, or two stacked trapezoids. The lower edge is smaller than the top, and the larger side is longer. The ends of the skip bin have lugs for chains to lift and move the skip. Large bins may have a large door with hinges for manual offloading. Trapezoids are generally quite durable and heavy.

Generally, a 12.5 cubic-metre-sized commercial skip bin is sufficient for most residential and commercial wastes. To determine how much volume you need, calculate the length, width, and depth of the waste you want to throw away, then multiply those figures by 1.5 to account for packing inefficiency. If you are disposing of brick or concrete, choose a skip bin that is 12.5 cubic meters.

Commercial skip bins are also available in different sizes. Standard-sized skips are best for small home clean-ups, building sites, or other situations with limited space. These small bins are trapezoidal in shape and are lower than standard-sized bins. They are designed to be lower than standard-sized commercial skip bins so that they can be lowered from the back of the truck.

The purpose of a commercial skip bin is to store and remove large amounts of waste. These skips are not meant for regular municipal rubbish services. These are often used for construction debris, which can't be put in the trash cart or regular municipal waste services. For the most efficient use of a skip bin, the design should be of heavy-duty metal. Heavy materials can deform a more fragile or flimsy container.

[nitewrighter]

Hay could we get a prompt about seye he’s never gotten his own prompt like Aden has rei and Marti have even the Amari twin but seye has none and he feels left out

Seye’s long overdue for his own prompt, huh? And there’s another Talon kid I’ve been meaning to bring in…

—-

The door to the jet opened onto a drizzly tarmac. Thailand was in its cool season but was still a few degrees warmer compared to the heavily air-conditioned interior of the Jet. Seye shouldered his bag and went down the stairs, feeling the drizzle weigh down on the collar of his shirt. He straightened his collar. The instructions had been to dress like a tourist, and he wore a plain white t-shirt with a denim vest with adire paneling at the shoulders, which… he wasn’t sure if you could call such an outfit tourist-y but he figured ‘casual’ should suffice, though already the mugginess had both vest and shirt sticking to his skin. He glanced across the tarmac to see a figure under a translucent red umbrella. She was a pale girl with champagne blonde hair cut in a french bob, donning a matching translucent red raincoat over a high-necked red floral dress. She was young. 2 years, maybe three within his own age, but he noted the lines and red indents in her face. Ogundimu Nerve prosthetics. His father had similar ones in his own face, but not this delicate. Two tiny red elongated hexagons at the outside corners of her cheekbones and eyebrows, the ones at her eyebrows barely hidden by her bangs, but connected by a 140-degree angle line on each side.

“Monsieur Ogundimu,” she said, stepping toward him.

“And you must be the famous Miss Thibault,” said Seye.

“Not famous, I hope,” she said with a slight smile.

“Noteworthy?” he suggested.

“I can live with noteworthy. Faustine,” she extended a gloved hand toward him and he shook it. She had to bring her arm up slightly to bring them both under her umbrella.

“Seye. Is Thailand to your liking, Faustine?” asked Seye as they walked across the tarmac.

She slapped a mosquito that had landed on the side of her neck, and then examined the little red smudge it left behind on her gray glove with distaste. “It’s tolerable,” she said, “It’s not Monaco.”

Seye smirked a little, “You’ve probably gotten this often but–”

“‘But you don’t look like your father,’” Faustine cut him off and gave him a sidelong glance, “Yes. I get it often,” she said with a smile as they continued walking, “You’ve been briefed on the mission, I take it?” she said, her voice low and yet casual as they walked to a sleek black hovercar.

“I’ve been under the impression that Talon is more interested in the future than the past,” said Seye as Faustine folded up her umbrella and got in the car. He got in after her.

“Someone’s been listening to a few too many of his father’s axioms,” said Faustine, scrolling through her phone, “Here,” she hit a panel in the car seat in front of him, “As per your specifications,” she said as the panel opened. revealing two metal isosceles trapezoids. Seye picked one up and placed it on the back of his hand. He inhaled sharply as the nerves uplinked and metal sheathed itself over his fingers, extending off of the plate and up his arm, stopping at the deltoid. He turned his palm over to see the metallic plates spiral around the center of his palm like a nautilus shell. He clenched his fingers into a fist and opened it again, revealing the tiny graviton repulsor now thrumming in the center of his palm.

“The target,” said Faustine, unfolding her tablet and showing a picture of a bespectacled omnic monk, “Acharya-9. Shambali theologian, AI-Anthropologist, and archeologist.”

“…why would a robot need glasses?” said Seye, squinting.

Faustine gave him another sidelong glance.

“I think it’s a valid question,” said Seye.

Faustine gave a slight eye roll before continuing, “In six weeks there will be a memorial to Tekharta Mondatta. The twentieth anniversary of his death. Acharya here has been gifted with logistical intel to the event. This memorial is supposed to be a statement. The world is saying that it is not afraid of Talon. That it does not believe in what we are capable of.”

“So, obviously, we should correct them on that misconception,” said Seye with a slight smile.

“Obviously,” Faustine said with a nod, “Acharya has been on the Shambali panel deciding the speakers for this memorial, and as such, he knows who is going to be at it, and may also possess some intel as to the security of the event as well.”

“And…we’re going to interrogate him?” said Seye.

“In a sense, yes,” said Faustine, “Full disclosure–”

“The catch,” said Seye.

Faustine smiled a little, “You could call it that,” she tapped at her tablet a bit, “This is also… a test.”

“A test?” said Seye.

“Superiors want to see how well you function in a covert operation,” said Faustine.

“I can be subtle,” Seye said on reflex.

Faustine gave him a slightly wearied look.

“…How much of my training footage have you seen?” Seye asked, his voice pitching up more than he would like.

“All of it,” said Faustine, “All of your training footage. You know, you’re only here because my father insisted I have backup. I just need you to watch my back until we make it to the Evac.” 

Seye’s lips thinned and he scoffed a bit. “Okay then,” he said, taking the other steel trapezoid and pressing it to the back of his palm, inhaling sharply again as the other gauntlet formed.

Faustine crossed her legs. As she adjusted herself in her seat he noticed similar hexagonal nodes to the ones on her cheekbones and temples, but larger and on the sides of her knees, with similar lines up the side and center of her legs.  Her eyes flicked up from her tablet to him and he glanced off quickly before his observation could be taken the wrong way.

“Noticing the product of your family business?” she asked.

“Are you satisfied with the product?” he asked.

She smiled, set her tablet in her lap, and pulled off one of her gloves, revealing an intricate pattern of lines on the back of her hand, with several red hexagons around her wrist, and hexagons on all of the knuckles of her fingers. She turned her hand over to reveal an equally intricate pattern of lines and red nodes on her palm before pulling her glove back on again. “Very,” she said, with a smile, ���Though… my neuroprostheses aren’t exactly part of the regular line.”

The car dropped them off a ways from the ruins. Security was lowered. Not a high tourist season. Several security drones rolled through. Helix. Not the latest models. It was coming together why Talon would pick a target as remote as this one—the highest amount of knowledge about the impending memorial service, in the station least likely to draw attention. Cutthroat world, archeology.

“So–the plan?” said Faustine as they walked past several frescoes of dragons and theppanom.

“I get you to the archeologist,” said Seye.

Faustine gave him a little smile over her shoulder.

“…Covertly,” Seye added, “Because I can do covert.”

“…you’re wearing those gauntlets and you didn’t even bother with a long-sleeved shirt,” said Faustine flatly.

“Who’s to say they aren’t state-of-the-art prosthetics?” said Seye, putting his hands on his hips.

Faustine just rolled her eyes. Most of the tourists were clearing out for the day, being gently prodded on by the Helix Security drones so that the academics could get in a few precious hours of surveying before the park service shut them down for the night. Faustine pulled out her tablet again briefly and tapped in a few notes before they headed into the ruins. The two of them stood side by side, closely examining a sculpture of an elephant as the rest of the tourists were slowly herded out. Seye and Faustine, meanwhile, moved further to the center of the ruins, where their target was at the interior of a crumbling temple. It was quiet, slightly amusing not-quite dance of moving from sculpture to sculpture to half-ruined building to avoid the security drones. The ruins themselves caught the afterglow of the setting sun, and the cloudy, warm sky took on orange and lavender hues, the clouds and heat managing to make it unclear exactly what point on the horizon the sun was setting. Nearly an hour passed before they were the last ones wandering about the ruins, their only other company being the helix security drones. Seye and Faustine exchanged glances as the Helix drone neared them.

“I can handle this,” said Faustine, calmly.

“Sir and Miss,” the drone said, “Ayutthaya Ruins park is about to be closed to unauthorized personnel. Please proceed to the nearest park ex–”

In a smooth movement Faustine had pulled her glove off of her hand and clawed her fingers against the optic panel of the security drone. Its voice warbled and distorted and she took in a shuddering breath and Seye watched with something he wasn’t quite sure was awe or horror as the skin on the back of her hand shifted, as if wires were moving underneath it, and suddenly red and black tendrils burst from the sides of the panels of the helix drone’s head. The drone seemed to vibrate under her touch, the wires or tendrils causing it to spark and spasm, until Faustine withdrew her hand, her black and red tendrils shooting back underneath her fingernails. The drone was still twitching next to her, its optical light bright red rather than blue as she made sure her manicure was intact.

“There,” she said, curling her fingers in with some satisfaction, “With that one taken over, the collective security network for this site should be–”

The security drone started blaring an alarm as the heads of all the other security drones swiveled towards them.

“…Have I mentioned I hate these older models?” said Faustine. Seye quickly wrapped one arm around her waist and used the gauntlet of his free arm to fire off a repulsor and send them both flying out of the range of the first stun blasts of the security drone. Bright blue blasts of stun-pulse rounds whizzed overhead as they scrambled to cover behind a statue of an elephant.

“’Be subtle, Seye!’” said Seye in a mock French accent, blasting a security drone back with his gauntlets, “’Zees eez cov-airt, Seye!’” 

“You don’t need to rub my nose in it!” snapped Faustine, already breaking off into a run toward the inner sanctum of the ruins.

“Hey!” Seye took off after her, using his gauntlets to blast back several Helix drones as firing at her as she did so. If he was being completely honest with himself, Faustine was more of the wildcard in this situation than the drones. The drones themselves provided little more of a challenge than the lowest level settings on Talon training bots, but it was the number of them that concerned him, and the likelihood that they were bringing more authorities to the area. They had their evac. He just had to keep her in his line of sight and—

He was sideswiped by a drone and sent painfully bouncing across stone, then rolling across grass. Faustine, he assumed, didn’t stop running towards the center. The mission took priority for her. He was just her backup. Fine. He could deal with backup. He hauled himself to his feet and brought up his gauntlets, then gave a glance to his surroundings. All things considered Talon probably wouldn’t want him obliterating a world heritage site fighting some security drones. Keeping it clean. Subtle, he thought, propelling himself forward with a blast of repulsors then smashing a steel-clad fist into the side of one of the drones, I can do subtle. The drone was downed, it stun gun firing off sporadically, which Seye quickly ripped off of the frame and pointed at another drone, successfully downing it in a shower of sparks before he was sent running by another flurry of blue sparks overhead. He hauled up the torso chassis of the downed drone closest to him and used that to block the next flurry of blasts that came from a droid across the ruins. Gritting his teeth, he pressed his palm to the back of his makeshift shield and blasted through it. Through the smoldering hole in the chassis, he saw the now smoking and sparking remains of the other drone. This was fine. It was all fine. He could keep them occupied out here and Faustine could interrogate their target on the interior and–okay the drones were heading toward the sanctum now. That wasn’t good.

“Oh for—” he muttered under his breath, firing off another charge from his gauntlet and obliterating another drone as he hurried down a narrow stone hall after the drone, firing off more blasts from his gauntlets to push the pursuing drones behind him back. He skidded to a hault at the inner sanctum to see Faustine bent over a collapsed Omnic. Their target.

Acharya was sprawled on the ground under Faustine’s hand, convulsing slightly as red and black wires and tendrils threaded themselves among his piston collarbones and jugulars, managing to poke their way out of that tight omnic jaw.

“This is interrogation?” said Seye, turning on his heel and blasting several more charges down the hall.

“It would be if you let me concentrate,” said Faustine, squeezing her eyes shut as the Omnic’s convulsions went more violent beneath her touch.

“Because that worked so well with the first drone!” Seye snapped back.

“I know what I’m doing!” said Faustine before sparks flew off the omnic and Faustine’s head jutted back in a shuddering breath.

“Faus–?” Seye started but with a flick of her wrist, Faustine extracted her wires from the Omnic, now prone on the stone floor.

“I have what we need,” said Faustine, getting to her feet, one last wire sliding back beneath the nail of her pinky finger, “Let’s get out of here.”

“You didn’t exactly make that an easy option!” snapped Seye, blasting down the stone hallway of the sanctum at the drones.

Faustine calmly tapped at her phone. “Evac’s coming to our location,” she said, “We just need to think of another way out of here.”

“This is our only way out of here!” said Seye, blasting down the hall, “If you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it!”

“…Make another way out?” said Faustine, gesturing at a wall.

Seye blasted the head off of another drone, and took the single beat between gauntlet blasts to give her an ‘Are you serious?’ look. “World Heritage Site,” he said.

“Talon,” said Faustine.

“You said subtle, “ said Seye.

Faustine opened her mouth for rebuttal, then closed it and flinched back as more blue sparks flew down the hallway. They both ducked off to the sides of the hallway as more stun shots flew their way.

“Okay,” said Seye after another flurry of blue shots, “Idea.” He ducked and rolled across the hallway to Faustine’s side of the chamber, then turned around and gestured at his back with his thumb. 

“…You can’t be serious.” said Faustine.

“Trust me,” said Seye, “Evac’s locked on to our location, right?”

Faustine’s brow furrowed and she pursed her lips.

“Subtle,” said Seye.

“…subtle,” conceded Faustine.

It was not subtle. Faustine, riding piggy-back and on Seye, blasting himself forward with both gauntlets and destroying drones in his wake while Faustine was screaming and cursing in French was probably the opposite of subtle, but it got them out of there. The talon evac vehicle swept in and picked them up and it was a mad scramble into the little hovership, but Ayutthaya was shrinking away beneath them as they both sat, processing the mission, in their seats.

“You kids get the intel?” the pilot spoke from the front.

“I–yes,” said Faustine, pulling out her tablet and having several wire tendrils extend from beneath her fingernails to its port, “Yes we got the intel.”

“Covertly,” Seye added. 

Faustine opened her mouth to correct him, but Seye gave her an insufferably smug, ‘Who wants to tell them who set off the first drone?’ look and she closed her mouth. “…Covertly,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.

“Hey! Knew you had it in ya!” said the pilot, “So… care to share what you found out?”

Seye leaned over Faustine’s shoulder to look at the screen of her tablet, which featured a list of names of ‘Confirmed Speakers’ for Mondatta’s 20th anniversary memorial. 

“…I think we might need to take a new approach to our plans for the memorial,” said Faustine.

Seye’s eyebrows raised, then he followed her eyes and his eyes widened at the name ‘Tekharta Zenyatta’ at the bottom of the list.

“Twenty years since Mondatta died and his brother finally has something to say,” said Seye quietly, “…took him long enough.”

[shengyaqi]

Do you know the main parts of the roll forming process?

In the manufacture of automobile doors, roll forming technology has been widely used. The application of this technology can not only make the door extension lines smooth and beautiful, but also the production process is relatively simple, and the cost is not high. One type of door frame strip can be used in the doors of a variety of vehicle models. Do you know the main parts produced by rolling process? Let's take a look together below.

1. Rim. Roll forming is the main forming process of rolling wheel rims. Rolling wheels are mainly used in passenger cars with very high manufacturing accuracy. The rims are not allowed to leak during rolling and welding.

2. Door frame strips. The door frame strip is asymmetrical and special-shaped cross-section, which requires multiple passes of roll forming. Therefore, it is necessary to accurately calculate the expanded size of the cross section according to the specific size and material of the door frame strip, formulate a reasonable rolling forming process, and design the shape and size of each forming roller , Determine a reasonable clearance and set a reasonable auxiliary roller. Mass production needs to combine the front of the roll forming and the back of the strip straightening with the shaping process, the roll welding machine and the automatic material cutting device to form a door frame strip production line.

3. Frame rails. Roll forming has developed rapidly. Especially for the production of longitudinal beams with constant cross-section, it has unique advantages. The roll-formed stringer technology has low investment and quick results, and is especially suitable for the production of multi-variety, medium and small batch stringers. The surface quality of the roll-formed stringer is good, and there is no trace of strain on the wing surface. Roll forming is a continuous forming process with low forming force and low noise. It is a production process for stringers worth promoting.

4. Crankshaft. Rolling strengthening and straightening is a key process in crankshaft production. After repeated machining and heat treatment of the crankshaft, a strong stress concentration is formed at the rounded corners of the shaft diameter and causes the crankshaft to bend. The rolling and straightening of the crankshaft strengthens the crankshaft, and at the same time corrects the bending deformation. At present, the process has realized computer automatic detection and control.

5. Small modulus spline shaft. The roll forming process is a method of spline forming, which can form straight-tooth involute splines and spiral splines, with stable forming accuracy and high production efficiency. The spline surface of the produced parts has low surface roughness and high strength. Compared with the cutting tooth profile, the shear strength of the parts is increased by 4% to 8%, and the fatigue strength is increased by 40% to 100%.

6. Screws. Roll forming is an important method for manufacturing high-strength bolts and trapezoidal screws. Roll forming thread belongs to the cold extrusion forming process and does not cut the metal fiber, so the roll forming thread has high strength, stable quality, and high efficiency of roll forming thread. Used in the processing of threads such as screws and pipe fittings with strength requirements.

7. Others. Rolling technology has also been used more and more in the precision machining of the outer diameter of shaft parts. The application of rolling technology will become increasingly widespread.

Ningbo Shengyaqi Auto Parts Co., Ltd. was established in 2005, mainly engaged in the research, development and manufacturing of roll forming products, especially special tools and equipment. The roll forming equipment produced mainly includes high-strength door sill anti-collision beam products; metal structure door frame guide rail product rolling production line; bending saws, door frames, aluminum anti-collision beams, luggage rack welding workstations; rolling products punching, drilling, milling And non-standard production equipment, etc. If you want to know more related information, please come to consult, we will provide you with the most detailed explanation.

[abblegostabbl]

Thank you so much for asking /gen (I hope I'm using the reblog button right ;> - >)

I'll be describing my gender in a few distinct blocks separated by paragraph breaks.

My gender is a fog of magic. In Earth's atmosphere, just before the sky touches dark matter, a miniscule sliver of space contains an infinite expanse of swirling, sparking blues and purples and greens and silvers and pinks. It's simultaneously a single, visible, moving entity and an unliving force of nature whose reaches are unfathomable. It's an entirely unique plane of existence where magic is born. A heavy fog on an abandoned suburb street. Raw power, innate energy, and unwritten tomes.

My gender is sometimes an injured angel. Looking down with a bloody mace in their right hand and a worn silver rope in the left. Two ruffled and muddy wings droop to the ground. Sometimes, the warrior stands tall with open arms. He, they, ae glow in silver and yellow. The field is empty.

My gender is a weed growing between two boulders just below the tree line on a mountain. An ugly, emaciated thing that struggles just to exist. A stem spotted in fuzz and wilted petals. Nearby and miles away its neighbor is rotting under an umbrella mushroom.

My gender is a shifting shadow. Hundreds of thousands of tendrils twist and whip through the air like individual whips. They writhe and hiss and steam, toxic air killing everything that would be nearby, but there's nothing nearby. Eventually, the ebony threads exhaust and melt together into something with more form. A sphere and extended trapezoid mocking a humanoid silhouette. An open, crying maw full of the softest moss.

My gender is a floating, spinning mass of eyes. Nine (9) wings extended in a circle always behind it (them) no matter where you observe them (it) from. A large ring of decorated gold surrounds another ring of gold covered in marble eyes (surrounding another, larger ring of gold that is a mural of lapis and opal (surrounding another golden ring that is plated in thin silver (surrounding a lead ring colored with roughly carved runes in a dead language))) surrounding a wavering, shifting, and rolling ball of eyes that are looking everywhere and at You and at nothing.

My gender is a feather drifting slowly down.

My gender is pastel yellow that is the result of combining pastel pink and pastel blue.

My gender is a cheery, nostalgic song that pretends to be wind. The perfect temperature of cold. It never leaves or stops, it simply travels.

My gender is a tenth dimensional Thing. It's barely conceivable within the bounds of imagination. Something otherworldly, somewhere else, massive, miniscule, incomprehensible, beautiful, horrifying, and lonely. Imagine a beetle finding a polished pearl. It's fascinating and for a moment the beetle sees every pearl that ever has and will form, but then that's gone and it (xei thee ey) continues life unaffected. The Thing is definitely there, but almost invisible. A circle of fresh water in a secluded cave cut off from the rest of the world. One (1) spectator reaches a hand out to take a sip and nothing is there. There are three (3) Spectators in the chamber, but they never interact with each other. Just watching, just curious. A vertical circle of silvery blue lighting the limestone and quartz. It is always there. It's everywhere and it Owns a piece of everything. It touches nothing. It pulses in a pattern that is impossible to copy.

My gender is a music box echoing off of a ruined and collapsing valley, lightning striking the same tree on repeat and thunder interrupting the song at uneven intervals.

----

Each chunk is a distinct gender and I weave between them. Sometimes it's all at once, sometimes it's mixes of different ones, and sometimes it's something else. Everything listed above is accurate (if a bit dramatic), but it's not everything. It doesn't fully encompass my gender, it's just the pieces I've thought on long enough to put into words. All of the funky parenthesis and odd punctuation are intentional and helped me visualize what I meant and emphasize ideas/concepts that are Significant. I think I spent all of my creative energy on this single post. Let me know if you have any questions, I'll be happy to attempt to answer! :D

Thank you again for your post, @mogai-sunflowers , it let me do some introspection. It also feels great to share a few pieces of my identity. Have a wonderful day!! <3 /p

thinking about my gender is honestly so comforting when I’m stressed. I was super anxious today because of everything that happened recently on tumblr and I just channeled it by thinking about my gender and how personal and beautiful it feels for me. my gender is so many hyper-specific things and I love it so much. so here goes I’m going to describe it. And I would love for others to rb this describing their hyperspecific genders <333 /nf

so my gender. it’s the personification of the night sky as a femme with stars twinkling in her eyes. it’s a transmasculine butch lesbian personified as a sun deity. it’s the way lesbian communities gathered to take care of queer men during the AIDS crisis. it’s a bloodthirsty fallen angel weeping, its wings streaked with blood, as it begs for mercy. it’s a beautiful violin melody playing as candlelight sweetly glows in a red rose meadow under a starry sky. its a red rose with stars in its petals and a black rose dripping blood from its thorns. it’s a willow tree weeping peacefully beneath the stars and the poetry of the way of the willow’s grace. it’s the words lullaby, serenity, bloodlust, meadow, stardust, and aurora. it’s a black sunflower and the skull of a crow crowded with roses. it’s the sweet tragedy of romance, queering Romeo and Juliet, the words ‘starcrossed lovers’. it’s the mysterious magic of midnight and the pastel sleepy lure of twilight. it’s a pastel rainbow rose under a starry twilight sky and the way stardust tastes. it is the reigning infinity of a sweet celestial serenade and it is infinitely expansive and lovely.

tagging @kenochoric @epikulupu @gender-mailman @cupidcoining @plushtsula

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Shooting Star Sonia 3

Chapter 6

Lightning bolts shot down in sequence, obliterating a line of viruses immediately.  A song carried through the air, directing when and where the bolts fell, and in the midst of the dazzling display danced Sonia.  She was Wave Changed, of course, but her appearance was different even compared to how it had been a few days ago: the pink on her dress and armor had been replaced by a medium shade of green, the jumpsuit beneath had taken on an ashy gray color, and her greaves had turned golden.  Instead of a scarf, she wore a large green coat that hung loosely from her shoulders, and round, blinking lights lined its edges.  Her mostly orange helmet had a more angular look with rounded horizontal ridges, with three vertical bands of gold spaced along it evenly.  Her guitar was a ghastly shade of white, with the body shaped to resemble a cartoon-like skull, and rather than the head forming a heart, it was now ornamented with a roughly trapezoid-shaped crown symbol.

With one final note, she called down a wall of lightning and spun her guitar around.  “Thank you,” she declared with a boisterous laugh, “you’ve been a wonderful audience!”

She bowed, and then rotated as she stood.  Luna, Wave Changed as well, was watching from a safe distance and looking rather impressed.  “You’re having a lot of fun out there, aren’t you?”

Sonia scratched the side of her face, chuckling.  “Well…I kind of do miss Crown and Couronne.”

She walked over to the edge of the Wave Road, sitting down next to Luna. Lyra appeared on her opposite side, saying, “They were bizarre, and an exhausting chore to interact with.”

“But still, they were a lot of fun.”

Lyra rolled her eyes.  Ophiuca joined them next, and said, “I never got the chance to meet them, but…this is most curious.  Are all the Noise Change files based on the abilities of FM-ians?”

Her expression turning serious, Lyra answered, “The ones that we’ve been able to access, at least.  Admittedly, it’s…quite strange.  I’ve spent a great deal of time wondering how data from our species ended up in this Noise Server when we’ve never even heard of it.”

“Are you sure that’s really what it is?” Luna asked.  “Maybe the actual data is more generalized, but the Control Program shapes it into something you’re more familiar with?”

Lyra shook her head.  She called up a screen and pointed.  “The data’s labeled ‘Crown_Noise.noi’, so that can’t be it.  I thought perhaps it was simply because I resonated with the FM-ian data, but Mega’s finding all the same files with not an AM-ian-derived Noise in sight.  It’s as if this Server has some sort of fascination with us…”

“Did you ask anyone at WAZA?” Luna suggested.

“We did ask Ace,” Sonia said.  “Apparently, the first generation Control Programs access a different set of files, so Acid has never used these Noise Changes.”

“Huh…well, then maybe that’s why.  If the doctors built the second generation programs to access different files, then they could have picked the FM-ian set because they thought it’d be a good fit.”

Sonia looked up at the sky.  “Hm, maybe. I guess I’ll need to ask them.” She rolled back and lay down, and started to pick at her guitar strings absent-mindedly.

“Not terribly concerned, I see?” Lyra asked.

Leaning up a little, Sonia said, “Uh, sorry, I…”

Lyra smiled, dismissing the screen.  “Well, it’s possible I could just be getting worked up over nothing. No point in fretting right now.”

As Sonia resumed playing, Luna said, “Oh yeah, what was that you were playing when you fought the viruses?  I couldn’t recognize the tune.”

Sonia stopped to think.  “Hm, remind me again what I was playing?  I got a little caught up in the moment.”  Luna hummed a few notes, and Sonia’s eyes shot wide.  “Oh!  Hah, I didn’t even realize…that’s, um, actually something new I’ve been working on! Here…”

She started playing the song, and Luna sat quietly and listened.  A minute or so in, she asked, “It sounds pretty polished—what more do you need to do?”

“Honestly it’s just the lyrics that are giving me trouble.”

“Really?  Why’s that?”

Sonia set the guitar on the Road next to her.  “Tough to say.  I keep trying to think of ideas, but nothing really feels right for some reason.  I guess…I haven’t really decided what this song is about yet?  Or more like, I was feeling something really specific when I came up with those notes, and I haven’t figured out how to put that feeling into words yet.  You know what I mean?”

Luna’s gaze drifted.  “…Yeah, I think I do.”

No one really had anything else to say, so the conversation ended on its own. Lyra and Ophiuca dematerialized soon after—they had found that using their Real Wave bodies while also Wave Changed for too long would gradually turn uncomfortable.  Sonia and Luna didn’t move much at all, simply sitting on the edge of the Wave Road and watching the clouds go by as they silently enjoyed each other’s company.  Eventually, Luna looked over at Sonia: she lay perfectly still.  Slowly, she leaned over to see if her eyes were shut (they were), but in the process, the veil that covered her face slipped out and brushed against Sonia’s, causing her to wince in surprise.

Blinking, Sonia jokingly said, “Hey, careful.”

“Sorry,” Luna said, pulling back the fabric.  “You looked like you were falling asleep.”

“No, I’m still awake.”

“I was just checking.  I mean, if you fell out of Wave Change, you’d probably go right through the Wave Road, and…”

Sonia smiled.  “It’s fine. Thanks for checking.”

Luna giggled.  “I still worry too much, don’t I?”

“I don’t really mind so much,” Sonia replied, shaking her head.  “It’s just that this got in the way.”

She took the veil in her fingers and gently pulled it up and over Luna’s head. The two of them locked eyes, and suddenly the air of the situation felt very different for them both.  Their faces flushed, and they stayed frozen where they were, unsure of exactly what to do.  Sonia’s grip on her guitar tightened.

…I want to let her know…that I…

Sonia took a deep breath.  “Luna…there’s something I’ve been meaning to…”

It was slight, but she could feel Luna pull away just a little.  That was enough to make her panic.

Oh no.  No, no I shouldn’t have!  This is still too fast for her!  No, no I didn’t mean to…

She quickly retraced her arm.  The veil fell back over Luna’s face as she pulled back further, saying, “I-I’m sorry, I—“

A nearby sound cut her off.  Turning, they saw that a new group of viruses was approaching, and so Sonia leapt to her feet.

“J-Just hang back,” Sonia said, trying to sound normal.  “I can take care of ‘em no problem!”

She played a chord; the musical notes that appeared in front of her wavered like they were made of flames, and at the core of each was a skull-like face that sprouted two stubby arms.  The notes danced towards their targets, boxing them in so that Sonia could call down more lightning to catch them off-guard.

Stupid, stupid!  What was I thinking?  All I did was upset her—darn it, I didn’t want to upset her!  Stupid!

***

“Just a little more…”

“You still got it?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Almost, and…”

Zack stepped back tentatively, making sure the rocket wasn’t going to fall. When it stayed standing, he grinned, and turned to the others.  “Nice job, everyone!  Now everything’s in place!”

The other Science Club members cheered and congratulated each other.  To have more space for the launch tomorrow, they had relocated the equipment to Vista Point, which had been a short hike but hadn’t been nearly as bad as they were expecting.  Of course, a big part of that was probably due to Bud stopping by to help them out.

“Is it really okay to leave it here overnight?” asked a student who was checking readings on their Hunter.  “I still think it might’ve been better to just come early tomorrow morning.”

“Stop worrying,” Zack said.  “We have one of the school’s security Wizards patrolling the grounds, and even if someone gets past them, we’ve still got our club mascot.  Right, Magnes?”

A flash of light signaled a Wizard exiting the rocket.  His thin body was blackish-gray with a large piece of curved white armor encasing his chest, and his hands were two oversized gloves—the right hand was red, while his left was blue.  His rectangular head had a plain gray face, a yellow visor, and a rounded white helmet with a red stripe down its center and two gray protrusions that covered his ears.

“Yup!” the Wizard said.  “I’ll make sure the rocket is well-protected!  Don’t you worry about a thing.”

After checking over everything one more time, the club members started to leave, until Zack and Bud were the only ones still hanging around.  Magnes had gone to attend to the Cyber Core of the rocket, while Taurus was resting in Bud’s Hunter.

“Thanks again for helping us move this,” Zack said.  “I don’t know how we would’ve made it otherwise.”

“No problem!” Bud said, pounding one fist against his chest.  “What are Brothers for, right?”

They turned at the sound of footsteps: Sonia appeared from behind the observation deck, waving to them.  “Hey guys.”

Magnes emerged from the rocket then, saying, “Who’s there?”

“It’s okay, Magnes,” Zack said.  “She’s our friend.”

“Oh?  Sorry miss, I guess I shouldn’t have been so jumpy.”  He bowed in apology.

“No, that’s fine,” Sonia said.  “I see you guys got it out of the lab easy enough.”

“Bud did most of the work, really,” Zack said.

“I couldn’t have lifted it by myself, though,” Bud said.

Sonia walked in a circle around the rocket, marveling at it.  “It’s so cool that you were able to build this!  How long are you planning to leave it in orbit?”

“We’re still debating the specifics,” Zack said.  “We want to leave it up for as long as possible, but we’re probably going to need to bring it back before winter break.  Still, even that’s a ways off.”

“Yup!” Magnes said.  “I’ll need to report in to the school board before classes are out, and I don’t want to just leave the rocket up there without a pilot.”

“You’re going to be in this when it launches?” Sonia asked.

“Yup!  The systems of the rocket are all set up so I can connect to them in a flash, and I even use my magnetic abilities as an integral part of the power cell.  They’ll probably help with repairs, too, but…hopefully I won’t need to put that to use!”

“Wow.  Are you excited?”

“Yup!  I’m honored to be entrusted with all the hard work these kids put in!  It’s been great working alongside them all this time, and seeing them all so happy to have completed their work is awesome.  I’m going to miss them while I’m up there, but I’m definitely going to make them proud!”

“We all know you’ll do a great job, Magnes,” Zack said.  “This is the result of all your work as well!”

“Thanks, Zack.”

Sonia turned to Zack.  “Do all the clubs in your school have Wizards?”

“Not all of them, no, but it’s something they’re in the process of implementing,” Zack said.  “Magnes was the first one they tested—since we’re working with some pretty dangerous materials, they wanted us to have some extra guidance as soon as possible.  When they saw how well he performed, the school started commissioning more specialized Wizards to serve as club mascots, and other schools have begun doing the same thing.  You left quite a first impression, Magnes!”

Magnes scratched his head.  “Ah, stop it, I’d blush if I was programmed to!”

They laughed, and then Magnes departed to check on something inside the rocket.  Approaching them, Bud asked, “So Sonia, you’ll be here for the launch, right?”

“I’ll be here, definitely,” Sonia said.  “Though, I’ll probably be hanging around the Wave Roads until the crowd disperses.  Sorry.”

“No, I completely understand,” Zack said.  “The school would be thrown into chaos if they knew you were here!  I’m just happy to know that you’ll be watching when we finally accomplish our goal!”  He paused to look up at the rocket.  “The entire club has been working so long for this…and tomorrow, it’s finally going to go up!  I’m so excited I can hardly wait!”

Bud lightly hit Zack’s back.  “It’s great to see you so pumped up, man!  You’ve seemed way happier ever since you joined the Science Club.”

Zack smiled.  “I guess so. It always sounded interesting, I just never felt like I could actually excel at it.  But now that I’ve given it a shot, I’ve found out I’m really, really fascinated with rocket science!”

“WAZA will be lucky to have you someday,” Sonia said.

“Oh, I hope so.  I actually have an idea of what I want to do now, and…well, it’s just a great feeling! Is that what it was like when you started singing?”

“Hm, I wasn’t really thinking about my future, to be honest.  But, if I do think about it, I guess it is nice to know I have something like a plan.”

“Maybe you should think of something too, Bud,” Taurus suggested.

With a shrug, Bud said, “Nah, I’ve still got time.  I’ll just wait for something to come to me, and if nothing does I can always become a professional eater.”

Zack laughed.  “Laid-back as ever!”

Magnes appeared once again, turning to Zack.  “Hey Zack, it’s starting to get kind of late.  You’d better get some rest before tomorrow.”

Checking his Hunter, Zack said, “Oh, you’re right!  Sorry, I need to get going—I’ll see you both tomorrow, and thanks again!”

Sonia and Bud waved as Zack ran off.  Magnes was gone again in an instant, and Bud decided he may as well head home too, leaving Sonia to wander off on her own.  Luckily, the streets of Echo Ridge were a bit empty and no one recognized her, so she was able to walk without being bothered, and found herself at the gates of the school before she knew it.  Crouching in front of the wall was Pat and a man with shaggy hair and a dirt-covered apron—none other than Wolfe—and not far away, Geo stood watching them with a smile.

“It’s too close to the last one,” Wolfe said, pointing vaguely.  “Move it over just a little.”

Holding a small bush, Pat slowly moved to the side and asked, “Here?”

“Perfect.”

Pat set the plant down and picked up a tool, starting to fill the space around it with dirt that he packed in to make sure it would hold.  When it was stable, he leaned back and gave the tree a once-over, before pulling out a pair of shears and clipping a branch.

“I was wondering when you’d catch that,” Wolfe said.  “Nice work, Pat.”

The boy wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned, saying, “Thanks for letting me help out, Mr. Wolfe!  Is there anything else that needs done?”

Wolfe stood and started to remove his gloves.  “If I keep you much longer, the teachers are going to say I’m cutting into your homework time.  Come see me tomorrow if you have the chance and you can help me work on the soccer field.”

Pat nodded.  Getting to his feet, he turned back to Geo and said, “You didn’t have to wait the whole time.”

Geo kissed him and said, “You looked like you were enjoying yourself. It’s hard to turn away when you’re smiling so much.”

Wolfe finally noticed Sonia.  Putting away his gloves, he said, “Well, look who it is!”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt,” Sonia said.  “How’ve you been, Mr. Wolfe?”

He smiled, showing his sharp teeth.  “Can’t complain.  This job’s been pretty good to me, especially since I have this eager kid willing to do so much of my work for me.”

Pat shrugged, not looking especially apologetic.

“What about you?  I hear you’ve been doing a TV show?”

“I have!  We just finished recording the season, though there are still a few more weeks in the broadcast schedule.”

“Guess you’ll need something else to occupy yourself with.”

Sonia deflated a bit.  “Well, something’s…turned up to do just that.”

Wolfe’s Hunter flashed, and the FM-ian Wolf emerged from it.  “Hang on.  Between that and how dodgy Mega’s being, I’m starting to get the idea that something serious is going on.”

“Don’t worry about it, old-timer,” Mega said as he materialized.  “You just kick back and enjoy your retirement.  Let us take care of whatever nuisance pops up.”

“Who said anything about retirement?  I’m still more than capable enough for a battle—got one of those fancy new Transcodes and everything!”

Mega leaned forward, saying, “Butt out!  You’re a civilian, so mind your own business!”

“Oh yeah?” Wolf snarled.  “Maybe it’s time I get back to causing trouble of my own, then, if being a boring ol’ civilian is the role you want me to play.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Wolfe said.  “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Wolf glanced at him for a moment, and then turned back to Mega.  “We’re not done.”

Mega faced the other direction, saying, “Pfft, sure.”

At first Wolf growled at him, but when Wolfe started walking he reluctantly returned to the gardener’s Hunter.  Taking his place, Lyra said, “It could just be the criminal history, but for some reason, I feel as though you really shouldn’t provoke him, Mega.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”

“Further, Wolf Woods could potentially be a very useful ally.”

“Maybe,” Geo said, “but I don’t want to ask them if we don’t absolutely need to.  After they spent so much time learning to calm down and control themselves, I’d hate to ask them to start fighting.”

“We’ve got it covered!” Mega said.  “Far as we can tell, this Dealer group is just a few shady card game fanatics. How much muscle will we really need to take them down?”

“I hate it when you tempt fate like that.”

Sonia laughed.  “Your optimism is inspiring if nothing else, Mega.”

Geo sighed.  Pat put an arm around him, and then asked, “So what brings you out here, Sonia?”

“I wanted to check out the rocket, now that they’ve moved it.  Zack’s already gone home, so I figured I’d come see if anyone else I knew was still about.  Seems like you’re really learning a lot from Mr. Wolfe.”

“Yeah, it’s been great!  At first it was just a way to pass the time until my bus got here, but I’ve started to really enjoy gardening.”

“I figured it’d be a good fit since you like nature so much,” Geo said.  “I’m glad you’ve found something you love to do, Pat.”

“Heheh.  It’s hard not to enjoy myself when I’ve got you cheering me on the whole way.”  Pat leaned over and kissed Geo on the cheek. Sonia smiled, though she felt a familiar pain tug at her heart.

It wasn’t much longer before Pat’s bus finally showed up.  Sonia ducked behind the school wall to avoid the risk of being spotted, and after Geo saw his boyfriend off, he waited for her to return and they started walking.

“How’s your work with the Joker Program going?” Geo asked.

“Fine.  Starting to wonder just how many Noise Changes there are, but I’m finding that the basics aren’t too varied.”

“Same here.  It certainly helps that I’ve got a point of reference for these abilities, either from seeing them in action or talking to Mega.”

“Yeah.”

They passed an empty park, and Sonia slowed down.  Geo noticed and stopped to look at her.

“Hey, Geo,” Sonia said quietly.  “Can I talk to you something?”

“Of course.  What did you want to talk about?”

Sonia hesitated, looking across the street at nothing in particular for a few seconds.  “Me and Luna.”

Geo inclined his head.  “Oh.”

Lyra beckoned to Mega, saying, “Mega dear, would you come this way for a moment?”

Mega complied without much fuss, and Geo and Sonia ambled into the park and sat down on a bench.  Sonia looked down, not sure where to start, and began fidgeting nervously.

“Since you brought it up,” Geo said, “it kind of seems like you two…haven’t really made much progress for a little while.  Not that that’s bad, it just seemed a little weird because of where you were, I guess.”

Reluctance swelled within her one more time, but she pushed through it. “Yeah.  We, um…things have kind of stalled, yeah.  I mean, we’ve always moved a little slow, but I didn’t mind that—it felt like we were moving at about the same pace, like we had a decent understanding of each other’s feelings.”

“When do you think it changed?”

“I don’t know exactly.  Sometime after I destroyed Mu.  Right after that was the first time I kissed her on the cheek, and I thought things were going to keep moving from there, but…they really haven’t.  She kissed me on the cheek at the Christmas party, but other than that…”

Geo shifted.  “We’re a lot closer to next Christmas than last Christmas.”

Sonia chuckled a little.  “Exactly. Like I said, it feels like we aren’t really moving forward now, and I…well, I…”  She clenched her fists, and felt as if her entire body was contracting. “…I really want to.”

“But you don’t think Luna does?”

After a short pause, Sonia said, “I’m not sure what Luna’s feeling.”

“I see.”

“The other day, I thought that maybe things were going to change.  At the studio, after the temperature swing in my room—she stayed with me, and she promised she’d never let me face anything alone again.  That made me so happy.  It felt like maybe we could finally cross this distance I’ve been feeling, but…” She started to shake a little. “…Yesterday, I…I was going to tell her how I feel, but…she just looked terrified.”

Geo leaned forward, saying, “I’m sure she wasn’t terrified.”

“I’m so frustrated with myself.  I want to move on—I really, desperately want that, but I can see how she reacts, and I just feel like I’m…like if I tried, I’d just be…pressuring her into something she isn’t ready for.  And that’s the last thing I want to do!”

“I know you’d never do that.”

“I don’t want to upset her.  I love Luna, and I just want to tell her that!  I want…”  She covered her face with her hand.  “…I want to hear her say she loves me.  I don’t know why, I just feel like I really need to hear that.  I want to push forward.  And when I think about that, I feel like I’m being so selfish, when what I should be doing is thinking more about what Luna feels and needs.  I know she has her reasons for being afraid to let people in, and I want to respect that. If that’s the problem, then I need to focus on doing everything I can to make her comfortable with me, right?”

She turned to Geo.  He thought for a moment, and then said, “Well, does it hurt to feel like she isn’t already comfortable around you?  You two have been through a lot, and you have grown really close, and from your point of view it’s just one more step.  It must be difficult to wrap your head around how she can see the situation so differently even if you have an idea as to why.”

“…Yeah,” Sonia mumbled, hanging her head.  “It hurts…but that’s no excuse for me to hurt Luna.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt her, though.”

“But I did.  I am hurting her, because I keep wanting to push forward.  And now, I’m just at a loss.  I feel like I’ve failed her.  But, despite that, I…” She looked Geo in the eye.  “I don’t want to just give up.  Luna’s really important to me, and I don’t want to lose her.  I want to keep trying, but I know I need to stop pushing…and I’m not sure where the balance is.”

Geo glanced over the park as he collected his thoughts.  “It’s a pretty simple suggestion, but I really think you should talk to Luna about this.”

Looking away, Sonia said, “I’d feel like I was pressuring her.”

“Telling her that you’re concerned about where the two of you are isn’t pressuring her.  She’ll get to voice her concerns too, and hearing what she’s actually thinking will go a long way towards helping you figure out what steps to take next.  She needs to feel secure, and you need to know she’s committed—the only way you’re really going to address those is by talking about it.”

Sonia just fidgeted.

“This sort of thing doesn’t have to be as scary as it looks.  There was a point where I was nervous to move things with Pat along, too.”

She turned sharply.  “Really?!”

Geo nodded.  “It was pretty early on.  Since he was still working on accepting his condition, I was worried that if I kept pushing our relationship it might distract him, or get in the way or something. I thought maybe I should give him more space.  But, by hanging back I was starting to make Pat feel like maybe I was giving up on him. So, we talked about our concerns, and figured out how we wanted to proceed, and now…”  He smiled.  “Now, we’re really happy together.”

Sonia looked ahead.  “…What if I get carried away?  I’m so eager to move on, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold myself back enough to talk things over rationally.”

“Spend some time thinking about what it is you want to say.  Just having some time to prepare yourself can work wonders. And if you need someone to bounce ideas off of, just give me a call.”

Sonia breathed deeply.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  He nudged her with his elbow.  “This is just a temporary thing.  You two will work it out, definitely.  You’re a natural at talking things out.”

Sonia turned and hugged him.  “Thank you, Geo.  I really am lucky to have a Brother like you!”

***

Magnes emerged from the rocket.  The sun had set long ago, and lighting at Vista Point was rather scarce, but he could definitely make out a figure approaching.

“Who’s there?” he called.

The figure stopped.  “You’re the Wizard connected to the systems of this rocket, correct?”

Magnes backed up.  “How did you know that?  And how did you get past the guard?”

“Hm.  I doubt we needed to program such strong repression, but after what happened with the Diamond we do need to be more careful.”

“What are you talking about?”

Something struck him.  Intense pain washed over him an instant, and electricity burst out of his body to form an image of a stylized Spade in front of him.

“Not yet,” the figure ordered.

Suddenly, Magnes vanished.

“Sleep for now.  Tomorrow, when they come to launch the rocket, awaken and use the power of the Spade card to run amok.  Then, fight Harp Note and her friends, and generate as much Crimson as you can.”

They turned to leave then, muttering to themselves, “We need to move much more quickly if we’re to get our wish.”

[jiaxinjessiesui-blog]

Hard-edge painting

Hard-edge painting is a painting in which abrupt transitions are found between color areas. Color areas are often of one unvarying color.

Hard-edge painting is the development of gamut painting and is also an abstract painting that combines the shapes of color blocks. The picture patches have precise edge definitions and are therefore called. Hard-edged painting abandons the brushstrokes, light and darkness, color tone and other painting factors in its abstract works. It only uses clear arrangement of color blocks to convey emotions.

Compared with abstract expressionism, Hard-edge painting abandons the contrast between color and darkness and the effect of stereoscopic space,. Instead, it uses a large color plane that emphasizes color contrast and flatness, with clear edges and contours. Hard-edged abstraction is also different from geometric abstraction. It uses less geometric shapes and pure colors. The whole picture is a unit, and the shape seems to extend beyond the picture.

Karl Benjamin

Orange, Red, Umber, 1958, 52 x 36 inches

The painting style is very neat and defined, with distinct areas of colour with particular sharpness. The geometric aspect to the piece is done with clean cut lines creating geometric figures.

Benjamin explored a lot of color relations. He developed a rich color vocabulary and hard-edged shapes. The elongated forms in his paintings interlock in a continuous composition that seems to have no beginning or end. Orange, red and umber are linked, overlapping. Each time one of these zigzag colors appears to overlap with an adjacent zigzag, it folds back into place. These paintings have vivid color geometric shapes that are positioned around the entire canvas.

Ellsworth Kelly

Study for Meschers , 1951,  49.5 x 49.5 cm

Simple and cool. But not really that simple. The green and blue are under a balance.  He trials curved, layered and irregularly angled the blue and green shapes; he wanted the canvases to be on par with its surface, not just a silent carrier.

Spectrum Colors Arranged by Chance I

Spectrum Colors Arranged by Chance II

Spectrum Colors Arranged by Chance IV

A series of eight collages consisting of hundreds of square colors placed randomly on a white or black background The "spectral color by chance" is the product of a mathematical system: Each 18th of a sheet of numbered paper lays a different hue on a 40-inch-40-inch grid. For each of the eight collages, Kighley used a different process, using only one color at a time and never knowing the result.

Green/White, 1968, 69.9 × 112.7 cm

His work shows a modest technique that emphasizes lines, bright colors and forms. At first glance, the painting appears to be a whole triangle. The painting consists of two distinct, monochrome canvases, which are mounted on top of each other: a large, inverted green trapezoid, placed vertically above a smaller white triangle, on a canvas. The canvas itself becomes the composition, forming a new geometric composition.

‘ I never thought of colour charts at all when I was working on them. They were really an experiment. I wanted to show how any colour goes with any other colour. Above all, I wanted to learn about colour relationships. Many of the works of this period start from chance encounters, such as shadows on a staircase, the reflections of the sun on the River Seine and the exposed sides of buildings that showed the abstract black patterns where the chimneys had been. After the experiments with arranging colours by chance came my first works using the actual colour spectrum as a source’.  -- Ellsworth Kelly (Spectrum I, 1953).

Frank Stella

Harran II, 1967

Close up of Harran 11, 1967

Damascus Gate (stretch version), 1970

He explores color geometrically, using a wider range of colors, which are applied to lines or curves. In these paintings, the arcs within the boundaries of a square sometimes overlap, sometimes side by side, filling the colors with concentric circles cut by straight lines. The paintings are named after the ring cities of the Middle East he visited in the early 1960s. The irregular polygon canvas and protractor series further extend the concept of shape canvas. Stella uses bright colors to explore the optical effects of tones as they approach. When colors are adjacent to each other, different bands and color blocks seem to bend or contract. The colored circles seem to roll around the static box.

Gobba，zoppa e collotorto, 1985

K.144, 2013

As Stella began to blur the distinction between painting and sculpture, color was still important. As his work became more and more three-dimensional, Stella used color to add depth. The artist's use of colour challenges our conception of how colour is represented on canvas and in sculptural forms, drawing the connections between painting, architecture and movement.

The sculptural form comes from different colored cones, columns, French curves, waves and decorative architectural elements.

[stuffphilmade]

Life as a Cyborg - Day 0 - Implantation

Please note: No blood or gore is shown in this blog or the accompanying video. It was the 22nd of April 2017 15:00, my phone lights up with facebook notifications, change of plan, it’s GO time.  My partner and I change out of our casual clothes into something a bit more presentable, grab my camera, with a shade of cowardice I pop a few painkillers in the hope to defend against some of the perceived (but false) impending pain. 

What I didn’t know is that I would be introduced to my new cyborg family and our joint 2nd birthday, 22/04/17.

We were not to become Human 2.0 but something closer to Human 1.2. 

This is not a work of fiction, on the 22nd of April 2017 my partner and I got dressed and jumped into my car to attend a so-called #implantParty where we were implanted with a Dangerous Things xNT NFC chip.

Leeds International Festival, a tech and art festival in the North of England, had invited Hannes Sjob (@hsjob) and Keren Elazari (@k3r3n3) to fly in from Israel and Sweden respectively.  They flew from their own countries to give a talk on Biohacking, Cyberpunk & Hacker Culture. 

I had known of this talk was for me since the first week it was announced, I, like Keren was massively influenced by 1995′s “Hackers”, “Ghost in the Shell” and 1999′s turn of the millennium western cyberpunk classic, “The Matrix”. 

From the moment I heard this talk was going ahead, I booked tickets. On the booking page, there was one line that blew my mind:  “If you’re brave enough, you’re able at the event to get a live chip implant onstage too.”

I had watched the Vice documentary about Dangerous Things: The Man Biohacking Encryption From His Garage

I had watched Keren’s Ted Talk: Hackers: The internets Immune system

I had just finished rewatching Ghost in the Shell and reading the manga in anticipation of the Scarlett Johansson’s remake.  I was ready to join Major Kusanagi. 

I bought tickets for my partner, knowing what and opportunity this was I proceeded to assault the Facebook and Twitter feed of the organisers trying to find a method of signing up to get what would have been a $100~ implant for free, zero, zilch, without shipping, import tax, even without having to pay a piercer or a private medic to “install” it in a safe manner.  

I heard nothing.

The day before the event I read a post on social media, from one of the lovely organisers, that the chipset WOULD be xNT NFC model from Dangerous Things in the USA. 

I got butterflies at hearing this, I knew of their pride in their products, their high standard of construction, their extensive (if a bit ghetto) testing procedures including Amal (the owner of Dangerous Things) having the first model he produced implanted in his hand for 11 years and counting. On top of this, the NFC model was the one I wanted for two reasons: 1) I have a Google Pixel phone with an NFC reader, I could use this to hand out my business card in a futuristic technical manner. 2) The 13.56MHz frequency is what my current hackspace card registers at, TL;DR I COULD USE IT TO GET IN AND OUT OF DOORS WITHOUT KEYS! 

Tech Specs: 

xNT tag – 13.56MHz ISO14443A & NFC Type 2 NTAG216 chip

2x12mm cylindrical sterile biocompatible implant package

ISO14443A – compatible with all ISO14443A RFID systems

Fully NFC Type 2 compliant – compatible with all NFC devices

The day of the event rolls around, I get up, have lunch and wait nervously for 18:00 to roll around so that I can head to the University of Leeds lecture hall, watch two amazing speakers and, presumably, thrust my hand in the air and hope to be selected as one of the few people who could get implanted as my wonderful partner waves on from the stands.  .. now.. some of you may have noticed my time discrepancies above, that is because it did not unfold as such: Sat waiting for 18:00 to roll around, we eat and as it hits about 15:00 my phone lights up as if all the posts on the event page I had made over the past month had been replied to... it turns out they had:

“Hey folks! Due to complications with the venue, we're unable to do the piercings there BUT DONT WORRY as we are still able to do them but before the event. 10 places are available” 

Followed by instructions that it would happen at 16:30 in the north of the city at a well-known piercing parlour. 

I had a Sherlock Holmes out of body moment as I planned our route from the south to the north of the city, what to wear, logistics of keeping my hands clean, messaged a fellow Leeds Hackspace member about the change of plan, I threw a dress at my partner and ran into the shower... Let's do this!  I had spent enough time thinking about infection, my family history of auto-immune diseases, not getting tattoos or piercings. If I trusted anyone to implant me with a sterile microchip the size of a grain of rice, it would be these speakers, this brand, this event and this studio. It felt like the metaphorical moons had aligned. This year I am 30 years old and had an experience with a severe spinal injury that really made me think about how safe I have been playing life so far, I could be run over by a bus tomorrow or become paralyzed, so let’s do something a bit dangerous for the progress of science and my cyborg street cred. 

16:30, I step into Rude Studios in Leeds, I scan around the room, 5 people, MADE IT!  One, I know, the others I do not, but they will become part of my Cyborg Family and share in an experience I never thought I would have. 

After a quick chat with Hannes, fresh off his flight from Sweden, we sign a consent form, get a quick briefing and are directed into the piercing room, where we meet Luke, the first man to stab me, just a little bit, FOR SCIENCE! 

(Photo Credit Ben Bentley)  

Luke, wearing nitrile gloves, sterilises his work surface, lays fresh paper down and asks which hand I would like my implant in, as I am right handed I opt for my left hand  Luke mentally finds the trapezium and trapezoid bones where the metacarpal bones of my thumb and index finger meet. Next he finds the first proximal interphalangeal joint (first knuckle) of the index finger, then halves the distance between the bottom of that joint and the top of my carpometacarpal joint. Then taking a biosafe pen, marks the insertion point. 

This point is chosen because: 1) low risk of damaging major radial and median nerves  2) low risk of damaging major blood vessels  3) low risk of damaging tendons or their synovial sheaths  4) plenty of soft tissue to help absorb blunt force impacts  5) good distance from bones to avoid pinching and crushing

Once this is has been marked, he opens the sterile package containing the sterile NFC implant within a sealed injector, gauze and importantly sterile gloves. 

Lukes professionalism and hygiene best practices show as I notice him move from the standard piercing and tattoo gloves to the sterile gloves included in the implantation kit. 

The nitrile gloves protect him from any biohazard coming from the person that is being implanted or tattooed, whereas the sterile gloves protect me from infection as he breaks my skin with the needle.

Big breath in.  Slow breath out.  My cowardice is unfounded, the implantation is no worse than any time I have had blood drawn at the doctors, just a little bit more of a sting. 

I am now a cyborg. A piece of technology is now part of my body, working to compliment my other features. 

This is an upgrade of choice, I am Human 1.2, unlike people I like to class as Human 1.1, upgraded by doctors to help fix defects such as pacemakers, insulin pumps. 

I am lucky to have been able to choose my upgrade and it that my upgrade be purely for scientific interest and life improvement rather than forced life extension. 

I get a sticky plaster and the proverbial lollipop for good behaviour.  Luke looks to my partner Holly and says “Next!”, motioning for her to sit down. Wires had been crossed, she had not intended to be next, never mind be anything but a supportive partner (and very good looking camera stand).  She grabs hold of the moment, she asks if there is enough for everyone... and within 2 minutes ...  WE are cyborgs. 

We step into the waiting room where Hannes is waiting to give us a lesson on programming our NFC chips.  I type HELLO WORLD. /Write  We step out onto the streets of Leeds new, upgraded and excited with the possibilities ahead.  I will be documenting our ongoing adventures in cyborg in a series of Blogs and Vlogs. Make sure you subscribe to my channels to hear more, also more technical nitty gritty experimentation to follow! Please check out our first vlog below: 

[theswiftarmy]

#27 – You’ve been Swifted, here, put on this cute cardigan

“Where are we?” Kymmie asked.

“Ummm, it looks a lot like the London Underground tube system.”  Carl replied.

“Maybe we’re inside Emma Watson’s mind.”  She countered.

“This isn’t ‘Being John Malkovich,’ you can’t go inside someone’s mind.”  Scott said in a tone that oddly enough resembled how John Malkovich would speak.

“Yeah, well cats can’t talk either!”  Kymmie replied back.  “But there’s a talking cat leading the way!”

The cat abruptly stopped walking.  “Ah this is our stop.”

“Stop?  What stop.  We’re just walking through these underground tubes!”  Scott replied, his voice still John Malkovich-esk.  He tried to reach out and touch what looked like a projection of the London Underground on the wall.

“Please keep all hands and feet inside the carriage until it has come to a complete stop!  Thank you.”  The cat cried out.

“Seriously?”  Scott Borchetta narrowed his eyes at the cat.  “What carriage!  We’re just walking in a group.  This is ridiculous.  Absolutely ridiculous.  We’re playing pretend with a cat.”

“Well, I’ve never been in the London Underground!  Oooo, I’m going to pretend I really AM in the London Underground.  This is fun!”  Kymmie said clapping her hands with excitement.

“No.  It’s not.”  Scott argued back sourly.

Justin Bieber shifted his stance to stand in line with Kymmie pretending like he was waiting for the doors of the carriage to open.  “Excuse me, Mr. conductor cat, do you know if this train is running on time?”

“Train is running on time.”  The cat said with a big grin delighted at their willingness to suspend their own reality in favor of his.

Scott rolled his eyes.

Everyone else joined in the make believe ride.

Scott rolled his eyes again. “This is ridiculous.  Why is everyone playing along!”

“Because it’s fun!”  Kymmie answered.

Scott groaned.

Just then a loud ‘door opening’ sound played and the overhead pre-recorded voice from the London Underground could be heard.

Unexpectedly before their very eyes the set from Taylor Swift’s ‘The Man’ video appeared in front of them with the ‘no scooters’ sign hanging on the wall next to Taylor’s lost albums.

“Ah, here we are.”  Thomas Whittington Swift said in his British cat voice.  “This way!”

“What IS this?  Is this a movie set?!”  Kymmie asked inquisitively.  “It looks like a movie set.  But, also, it looks like a subway station.  It just looks so real.”  Her eyes were wide with curiosity.  She was buying into Taylor’s big adventure, all aboard the Swiftie train… Soon enough their suspension of disbelief would become irreversible, is this the real life, or is this just fantasy?  You tell me.  Put on your favorite song, close your eyes and notice what happens to your mind…  watch favorite movie, read your favorite book, and notice what happens to the time.

“Where are we going?”  Scott asked as he eyed the ‘13TH Street Station’ sign, the station didn’t look like any subway station he’d been in, either in the London Underground or anywhere else in the world.

“You’ll see!”  The cat replied.

They followed the cat as he ran through the seemingly fictitious movie set station.  Above them they could hear crowds stirring, idle pre-show chatter, noise, the show was about to start, everyone was taking their seats.  Finally, they entered a large open space that resembled an upscale ‘reservations only’ restaurant dining room but on a Broadway theater stage.  On the stage, a large table was ready and waiting, silverware placed, candles lit.  A moon projected on the backdrop.

“Ah oui oui!”  A waiter called out.  “Monsieur le chat!”

A hand painted sign read ‘The London’.

“Everyone, I present to you the finest seat in the house!”  The cat said with a smile.

“If this is the finest seat, where’s the stage?”  Carl asked the cat.  “It sounds to me like the stage is above us.”

“Perhaps.  Or perhaps it is an illusion.  Like the Ames Window.”

“The what?”  Kymmie asked.

“A trapezoid shaped window that spins around in a circle but it appears to instead move back and forth because your mind sees what it wants to see and doesn’t see what is actually there.”

“Whoa.”  Justin and Kymmie whispered simultaneously.

“So it’s an optical illusion?”  Kymmie asked the cat.

“Yes.”  The cat bobbed its head up and down.  Though, the cat was not actually moving its head, the lights from the stage were moving, making it appear as though the cat’s head were moving up and down.

“If there’s optical illusions, do you think there’s audial illusions?”  Kymmie pondered.

“I think you mean auditory illusion.”  Oak Felder replied.  “Yes, there is such a thing—”

“The stage IS above us!  And he knows it!”  Scott was in full argument with the cat.  Scott and the cat sat in a staring match for a moment.

“Do you want to know more about auditory illusions?”  Oak asked Kymmie and Justin.

“Nah.  We’re watching this video of a guy losing an argument to a cat.”  Kymmie and Justin replied.

“It’s not a video, it’s real life.”  Oak declared.

“Oh yeah.  Wow.”  Kymmie scratched her head.  “For a moment, I thought I was watching a video.  Weird.  Maybe I just miss having a phone that actually works so much that my mind wants me to think I’m watching something on my phone.  I miss my phone.”

The cat sat back and pointed up with a paw towards the stage, taunting them.  “Ah, but isn’t the show infinite if you see it with your mind?  If you use your imagination and let it run wild and free, there’s no limit to what you could hear or see!”

“Alright, I’ll give you that, cat.”  Scott acquiesced, defiantly.  I lost an argument to a cat, he thought.  Believing anything, be it a show on a stage, or perhaps, a bit of folklore, means allowing suspension of disbelief… and once that happens, there’s no going back.  Suspension of disbelief, if you’ve never heard the phrase, means, even though you know something isn’t real, you know it’s made up; you know it’s folklore, but you let your mind step into the world of make-believe and allow yourself to play pretend—to believe it—knowing, eventually you’ll return safely back to reality.

“Dinner is served.”  The cat pointed to a table with oversized candles.

“Dinner?”  Scott asked.  “We’re not hungry.”  He crossed his arms.

“I am a little.”  Kymmie said, holding her hand up.

“The rest of us are not.”  Scott argued.

“Actually.”  Justin held a hand up too.

“Okay FINE, some of us are hungry.”  Scott grumbled to the cat.

Kymmie turned to the cat.  “Cat, I have a question, where’s the bathroom.”

“Right over there.”  The cat said lifting and pointing a paw at a door with a sign that said ‘Gender Inclusive Water Closet’.  A small sign below that read, ‘DNA judgment free zone, transgendered women are women, and transgendered men are men, all are welcome.  And even if you don’t have DNA and you’re a fictional character, you’re still welcome.’

“Thank you!”

“Really?  You’re gonna go to the bathroom, right now?  We’re in the middle of an action sequence!”  Scott threw his hands up in frustration.

“I wouldn’t really call it an action sequence.”  Kymmie replied.  “I feel like something is about to happen.  But right now?  Well, it’s not too crazy yet.  I do get the feeling it’s about to get COMPLETELY out of control, so I just figured I would use the bathroom NOW before things get totally out hand.”

They waited as she walked over to use the bathroom.

“I call next!”  Justin ran to get in line.

The rest of them formed a bathroom line, like you would see at a music venue with only one bathroom.  Why is there only one bathroom?

Whoever is in there is taking forever!

Is someone in there?

Well knock again; maybe it’s just locked?

I don't think there’s anyone in there.

No I saw them go in.  Is there another bathroom or is this the only one?

There has to be, like, a staff bathroom, can we use that one?

Go get someone who works here to see if it’s locked or we can use the staff bathroom, oh wait never mind the door just opened!

I just wanted to warn you that there are no paper towels and the toilet paper is running low.

Exasperated sigh and a groan.

“Oh my gosh.  Well, let’s hope Billie and Finneas are having some success.”  Scott shook his head standing in line for the bathroom.

Everyone eventually finished using the bathroom, luckily there was no shortage of toilet paper in THIS bathroom, a few rolls were found under the sink cabinet, no paper towels though, so everyone had to air-dry their hands.  The show had begun above them.  They stood shaking their hands in the air trying to get them dry.  Put the left hand up, and the right hand up, and you turn it all around and you shake them all about… and that’s what it’s all about.

“So we’re under the stage?”  Kymmie asked.

“I think we’re directly under the stage.” Pop replied.  Oak nodded.

Kanye put his finally dry hands down, “Shhhh, do you hear that?”

Kymmie nodded at him.  “Yeah.  It’s…  What IS that?  That sound…”

“What?”  Justin asked, confused, he turned to look at Scott Borchetta still moving his hands around in big circles in the air trying to get them dry.  “I don’t hear anything?”  When his hands were finally dry he took his earworm canceling headphones off but quickly put them back on.  “I just hear this worm of a song when I take the headphones off.”

“Well then don’t do that?”  Kymmie said snarkily.

He made a face at her and she made a face back at him.  “Hey, I’m an Arianator, not a Belieber, so technically, that makes us team rivals.  Like The Montreal Canadiens vs. The Toronto Maple Leafs.”

“Maple Leafs all the way!  You know, I’d sing to you and make you a belieber if I didn’t have an earworm in my head.”

“Awww, that’s so sad.”  Kymmie feigned a frown.

“Oh wait, I’m getting a call on my phone, oh, it’s for Kymmie?  Here, let me transfer it to her phone… Oh, wait, her phone is broken.  And I have, let’s see… twelve.  Also, Ariana Grande and I have an alliance.  So, technically, that makes you part of my team through association.  But also, Maple Leafs all the way.”

“Whatever.”  Kymmie made another face.  “I don't even watch hockey.”

“Look, we’re all on the same side.  At least, right now we are, let’s just put the rivalry away for the time being.”  Carl declared with authority, shifting from corporate lawyer to judge mode for a moment.

“Shhhhh… Everyone, listen?”  Scott blurted out.  Pointing to the mics and speakers.  “You know what this is?  We’re in an echo chamber.”

Ambient crowd noise being picked up  by microphones above echoed below through speakers inside the echo chamber.  It was relaxing… Like the crowd noises you hear in baseball... if you ever watch a baseball game on TV without the crowd noise added; it’s just not the same.  You need the crowd noise.  It’s just noise, and one would think the noise would be a nuisance an annoying obstacle, a gumption trap meant to distract you from the purity of enjoying the game.  But in fact, without it, the game is nearly unwatchable.  It’s the crowded ballpark that adds that magic spark to watching a baseball game on TV.  Of course, just like old laugh tracks, you can always add the sound.  A primetime sitcom without laugh tracks just isn’t the same, but you have to wonder, why is that?  Why do we like it?  Why do we like music in the first place?  Why do we like the sounds within music, or TV shows, or movies, broadcast to our brains… And why do we need the click clack of horses walking on a road when there are horses in the movie scene.  We know the sounds are fake, we know Foley artists worked hard to stomp coconuts together to recreate those horse hoof sounds, but without it, something is missing.  We need the background noise.  We need it so much that when it’s not there we add it in, a synthetic substitute for the real thing, if it ain’t got that swing, it don’t mean a thing.  Just like we add effects to music, because a dry room just doesn’t keep the attention of our ears… but put that sound through an old school echo chamber and there’s something magical that happens.  Most of today’s music is run through computer-generated effects.  But a raw, pure, true, echo chamber just can’t be simulated.  They still exist, hidden, secret rooms, in studios around the world, so I’m told.

Oak Felder stepped to the center of the room.  He looked around, “He’s right, it’s an echo chamber.  It looks like a reproduction of Phil Spector’s original echo chambers.  It’s just like the ones he used in the 1960s right here in LA to record in.  Like the one in Gold Star Studios.  It’s larger than the originals, and more complicated with more speakers and mics, but, that’s what this is…“

“Whoa!”  Kymmie shouted.  “What’s an echo chamber?”

“Oh kid… You have so much to learn.”

“I mean, I’m a teenager.  So… Duh.  But, I know a lot for my age.  You’d be surprised!”  She said in a sassy tone.

“I’m sure you do.”  Carl Lyle Lawyer said back to her.

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed.

“Do you think Taylor is using this in her performance?”  She asked.  “This Regina Spektor echo chamber?”

“It’s a Phil Spector echo chamber.”  Scott shook his head.

“Yeah well I have no idea who that is, so I’m going to call it a Regina Spektor echo chamber because I like Regina Spektor.”

“If it makes you happy, you can call it whatever you like.”  Carl said to her ending the argument.

“Good.  Then I’ll call it that.”  She said with a triumphant smile.

Kanye and Bieber caught a stare with Scott and then with the rest of them.  They stood in wonder, and awe… and fear.  There were thousands of mics and speakers lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling.

“What is Taylor planning?  Some soft of modification on the wall of sound?”  Oak asked.

“Or maybe a tidal wave of sound.” Scott said back.  “Or an avalanche of sound.”

“What’s the wall of sound?”  Kymmie asked.

Oak gave another one of his famous Ted Talks on the famed Wall of Sound and how it was created by the music producer Phil Spector.

“Wow.  They did weird stuff back in the olden days.”

“The olden days?”  Justin asked Kymmie.

“That’s what I call anything that happened before my time.”

“But you’re like, 15, everything was before your time!”

“Whatever.”  She made another face.  “Can I still call it the Regina Spektor wall of—“

“Yes!”  They responded collectively to Kymmie.

“We have to do something!”  Kanye said, fearlessly.

“I’m calling my captains, we need backup, we need the Captain and Lieutenants of my Beliebers.  They’re up there keeping an eye on Billie, but we need them down here!”

“Okay, I’m calling Sunday Service.”  Kanye pulled out his Sunday Service device that broadcast a secret Sunday Service signal.

“I’m calling my Defenders in case we need them too.”  Oak added.

“And I’m calling mom.”  Kymmie said pulling out her phone, forgetting it was still frozen.

“No, honey, don’t call your mother.  Scott and I will handle this.”  Carl said to Kymmie.

“Wait, HE’S your dad?!?!”  Justin asked.

“Yeah.”  Kymmie said, her face flushed with embracement.

“What the?”  Everyone shouted collectively.  “HOW LONG HAS HE BEEN YOUR DAD FOR?”

“Umm…My whole life?”  She shrugged.  Carl laughed.

“That’s crazy, Yo!  Well, at least she wasn’t running around town without parental supervision, you know?” Justin offered.

Kanye nodded in agreement with The Biebs.

“Wait… So your name is Kymmie Lawyer… Does that mean you’re going to be a lawyer when you grow up?”  Justin inquired.

“No.”  She replied, annoyed.  “I get asked that all the time.  A last name isn’t a destiny.  Kanye’s last name is West, it’s not like he moved from his birthplace to the West coast… Okay, never mind, that’s not a good example.  Your last name is Bieber are you going to become a Bieber?  What is a Bieber anyway?”

The Biebs shrugged.  “I’ll have to look that up.  But you should really consider law school, you’re really good at debating.”

Carl laughed, “I’ve been telling her that for years.”

“Well, I’ve already decided, I’m destined for the red carpet.  I’m going to be a star!”

“I’m just saying think about it, Kymmie Lawyer, teen lawyer.”  Justin added as an afterthought.  “It’d be like Teen Wolf but instead of a wolf, you’d be a lawyer.”

“Justin, by the time I finished law school I wouldn’t be a teen anymore.  Think about it.”

“Alright, you win.”

And with that, the debate with Kymmie Lawyer, tenacious teenage daughter of Carl Lyle Lawyer, was over.

“I just wanted to point out that if you were a Teen Wolf and you did go to law school, then by the time you finished law school you’d be a wolf lawyer.  Which could also be cool.  And that would make me a wolf dad.”

“DAAAAAAAD!”

“Sorry, daughter, I couldn’t help it.”  Carl Lyle Lawyer apologized for the wolf dad joke.

“Well, I don’t have my own thing to call, I’m just with Oak.”  Pop shrugged.  “I mean, okay, I do have my own thing, but I think we’ve already got enough reinforcements with the Beliebers and Sunday Service and Stacy’s mom.”

“Kymmie.  My name’s Kymmie.”  She corrected Pop.

“That’s what I meant.”

“What about you, Thomas Whittington Swift?” Kymmie asked the cat.

“I’m calling The Itty Bitty Pretty Kitty Committee!  Wait, no, everyone’s already here.”  The other cats snickered.

“AH HAH!  You ARE Taylor Swift’s cats!”  Scott said accusingly.

“And you, are Taylor Swift’s rats.  And you’re right where she wants you.  Under the stage in a rat pack rat trap.”

“Damn this cat is good.”  Scott said in a smooth Humphrey Bogart-esk voice.

“I thought you said you could handle it!”  Justin shouted at Scott pointing to the cat.

“Well I seem to have underestimated The Itty Bitty Pretty Kitty Committee—“ Scott pointed to Bieber, “Justin, just call your captain!  And tell him to bring wine.” He pointed to Kanye, “Kanye, Call Sunday Service!  And tell them to bring…”

“Jesus!”  Kanye shouted.

“No… More wine.  I just need a drink right about now.”

“Already on it.”  Justin and Kanye said in unison.

“Kymmie…”  Scott turned to look at her.

She looked at her dad.

“Fine.  Call your mother.  I’m never going to hear the end of it.  But we don’t have a choice at this point.  I think we’re out Swifted.”

“Ya think?”  Biebs added.

“Umm, my phone’s still in this weird locked down mode, can I borrow yours?”  Kymmie asked innocently.

Carl Lyle smiled.  “Sure thing sweet pea.”

“Oh, umm, also, can we go buy a new phone tomorrow because I broke mine.  See, what had happened was, I was trying to…”  She started to explain to her dad how her phone broke since she was used to explaining to him why she needed money or a new this or that.  Force of habit, you know.

“Why are you telling me this?  I was there.  Remember?”  Her dad replied, like a dad, because he is her dad.

“Oh yeah.”  Her facial expression absentminded-teenager-like for a moment.

“Sure, when this is over, we’ll go buy you a new phone.”

“Thanks dad!  You’re the best.”

“Well, maybe you should tell Taylor Swift that, because right now she isn’t too pleased with me and my company.”

“I mean, villains can still be cool dads.”  She gave her dad a thumbs up and a wink.

“I’m not a villain!  Whose side are you on?  You keep this up and I’m not buying you a new phone.”

“Daaaaaaaad.”  Kymmie complained.

“You’re lucky I love you.”  He said with a smile.

“Thanks dad!”

“Wait, it’s a Sunday.  Did you do your homework for tomorrow?”

“Eh, I’ll do it later.  The world’s probably gonna end or something anyway so—”

“No,” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out his business tablet/laptop.  “You’ll do it now.”

“But, I’ll miss the show!  Or, umm, whatever is about to happen.”

“You can’t see the stage anyway, daughter!  We’re not going anywhere, might as well work on that paper.”

“You ARE a villain!”  She pouted.

“A minute ago I was the worlds best dad, now I’m a villain!”

“Father.”  She narrowed her eyes and stared in annoyed anger.

“Daughter.”  He narrowed his and stared back.

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: Villain dads.  I like that, coming this fall, a sitcom staring the world’s favorite villains as they navigate parent hood with teenagers.

WRITER: NO.

“Did anyone else just see that?”  Kymmie asked changing the topic.

“What?”  Scott asked, very interested.

“I swear I saw a peacock, over there… Where we came in.”

“A peacock?  Are you sure?”  He diverted his attention to the entrance.

“Yes.  It’s gone now.  But yes.  No one else saw that?  Like, it was a huge peacock!  The tail was like a rainbow!  And it was wearing a sweater, or maybe it was a cardigan, I’m not sure.”

“No.  No, little girl, no one else saw your folklore.”  Justin said and laughed slightly.

Kymmie put up her fists ready to fight, “Who you calling little girl!  Maple leaf.”

“Honey, easy, he’s infected with an earworm, don’t want to kick a guy when he’s already down…”

“Dad!  I can handle my own.”  She looked away from her father.  “I hate you.”  She said under her breath.

“Alright, well, I hate to break up your little father daughter moment, here, but, as you can hear, The 2019 American Music Awards have started…”  Oak pointed to the ceiling then he pulled out a headphone case and clicked the button unlocking the sophisticated Swiftie Sound silencers.  “Everyone, this is it… Headphones on. “  He waited as they pulled out put their specially modified noise canceling headphones, they held the headphones in front of them and collectively powered them on.  The earpieces glowed in a pulsing pattern, Illuminated with LED lights as they cycled through a boot up process.  There’s a lot of fancy high tech circuitry inside of these headphones.  Finally the boot process completed and the glowing LED lights were bright and steady.  “We don’t know if Billie was successful up there or not, since she never called, but there’s not much we can do now.  We’ll just ride it out in this Phil Spector echo chamber…”

“I can’t believe she never called me.”  Just lowered his head and sulked.

“Get over it Justin.” Kymmie said in a kick a guy when he’s down voice.

“Justin, on your headphones you’re gonna have to switch off the earworm block and switch on phase cancelation from the outside.  I’m afraid you can’t have both at the same time.  Just hang in there, it will be over soon… You just have to ride the earworm out until the show is over.  Either you keep the Selena earworm turned off and risk a Swiftie infection, or you let the earworm take over your brain to stop the Swifitie sound.  Letting the new sound in while you have an existing earworm means you could have your mind wiped.”

           Justin nodded at Oak with fear in his eyes.  “Well, here goes nothing.”  He switched the headphone switch, the LED glow changed from green to blue.  Justin began hum along with the Selena Gomez song as it took over his brain once again. Without the inverted frequencies to filter it out, the mute effect slowly lost potency and it was back in full force like a pain relief pill wearing off.  The only way to keep an earworm manageable without special headphones is to let it win.  Just sing along with the song if you want to get through it.  If you fight it the earworm will win, it will drive you mad.  Just sing along, let the song lead and just tag along.

“That warning goes for all of us, replacing one earworm with another can have disastrous consequences.  If any of you have a song in your head, clear it now.  Practice some Mindfulness meditation; forget about everything but your breath, there is no sound, no music, nothing… If your headphones let the secret Swiftie sound through and you’ve already got a song in your brain, I don’t care if it’s a nursery rhyme, or a marketing jingle, or the hokey pokey… They could collide.  And colliding earworms are not something you want inside your head, especially if there’s melodic recombination and the two earworms mutate to create a new even more potent earworm.  Got it?”

“Got it.”  They replied to Oak Felder in a chorus like a class replying to a teacher.

Everyone sat down in a circle, closed their eyes, began to breath in long slow breaths and meditate.

Overhead speaking could be heard as the awards began, cameras were rolling… An announcer mentioned something about magic is in the track to keep it on repeat, all year long…

Scott opened his eyes and shouted to the room, “SEE!  SHE JUST SAID IT!  SHE JUST ADMITTED THAT THERE’S MAGIC IN THE MUSIC!  SHE SAID IT ON LIVE TELEVISION TO THE WORLD!  THERE’S MAGIC IN THE SONGS!  WHY IS NO ONE TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY?!?!?!”

           But no one could hear him, a hum in the echo chamber—the Phil Spector special, the replica from Gold Star Studios—a hum interacted with the headphones and muted Scott’s voice.  With their eyes closed, and headphones on, he was now invisible, like so many silenced voices in not just the music business but all of the entertainment business.  If a music industry voice talks in an echo chamber and everyone is wearing noise-canceling headphones that cancel out his voice, does anyone hear him?

           Taylor’s newest toy… A device to mute the voices of the boys in her life that stand in her way.

You’re all Swifties now.  Soon everyone in the world will be… Soon…

Cardigans for everyone.

It’s Taylor’s world now, we just live in it.

It’s Taylor’s world now, we just listen in it.

It’s Taylor’s world now, we just love in it.

It’s Taylor’s world now, here, put on this cute cardigan!

“Do you guys see that?”  Scott called out as everyone else sat meditating motionless with their eyes closed.  No one could see him, or hear him, his words echoed, saturated in reverb and echo, delayed, do you you guys guys guys see see see see that-that-that-that-that-that doyouguysseethatyouguseseethatguysseethatseethatthat…

The room began to shift, and distort.  Time shuffled, like a streaming playlist at a party when someone hit the shuffle button, no longer in the original playlist order, space shifted, the quantum universe touching reality…  He stood up and tried to walk around but the floor felt like it was moving under him.

A figure of a woman walked through the room.  He stopped trying to walk and stood still as the room moved around him, she walked towards him staring at Scott Borchetta.  She came closer and closer.  Then halted her step inches in front of him.

She tried to say something, but had no voice.  Her voice muted by Phil Spector’s echo long ago.  He recognized her, teeth shattered from the gunshot.

“Lana Clarkson.”  Scott mouthed the words, his own voice now inaudible.  He tried to say them again, louder, he said her name over and over, “LANA CLARKSON.”  Nothing.  He yelled her name.  Nothing.  He tried to scream.  Nothing.  Like being in a dream.  Nothing.

Suddenly she vanished before Scott’s very eyes.  He reached out and caught air.  A fading ghost.

With the fading ghost of Lana Clarkson, the show ended.

“Okay, what just happened?”  Pop asked, standing up.  “It was like… Looking through venetian blinds made of mirrors, some of the world visible but some of it reflected back, like seeing myself in the world but also being myself.  And things were skipping around.  All over the place.  Like a shuffled playlist of songs.”

“I don’t know.  I think the show is over… For me, I experienced all of it at once but in no order, out of order, or any order, or every order…”  Kymmie excitedly recalled the entirety of the 2019 American Music Awards show, the blips and images inside her mind were all there together as one singularity—a show without a timeline.  But it was more than that, she felt like time had changed, it wasn’t ticking one second at a time anymore, it could go in all directions at once, complete 3D movement of time just like space.  “Now I’m just hungry.”  She got up and threw the tablet she’d been holding to her dad, homework completed thanks to the time warp.  Next time she had homework she would just use the time warp.  Let’s do the time warp again!  She thought.   She walked over the to the dinner table and ate some of the food.  “Wow, this appetizer spread is really good.  Oh my gosh, this is like, the best food I’ve ever had in my life.  Oh my gosh… Wow!!!!!  Everyone, this is so good.  This is basically all my favorite food.  If I were a bug being lured into a trap with bait, I’d be a goner.”  She said back to the rest of them as she continued to snack on various bite size finger foods.  She picked up a bottled water and cracked it open, she was super thirsty, she drank the water.  “Seriously, come and try this food!”

“No, we’re okay.”  One of them replied.  “But I will have a water.”

She tossed a bottled water across the room.

“Let me get a water too!”  Another asked.  Then another.  Kymmie threw bottled water to everyone.   They drank the water and discarded the bottled water in a clearly placed recycling bin.

No one but Scott saw Lana Clarkson’s ghost.  Perhaps she was real, or perhaps she was just a Spector of his imagination.  It all happened so fast, too fast… Fast Times at Ridgemont High.  Too fast to know what really happened that night.  What happened to Lana Clarkson?  They say when the police showed up at the scene of the murder music was playing throughout the house.  Music.  Just music.  It was just music  Right?  What song was playing when Lana Clarkson was killed inside the walls of the Pyrenees Castle?  When the wall of sound silenced her voice for the very last time.  What song was the sound of silence?

Kymmie looked around, “Wait, where’d the cat go?  And where’d that French restaurant host guy too?  They were here before the show started, but now—“  She looked around the room, “They’re gone.”

“Justin!”  Someone yelled.

Justin was motionless on the floor.  He was whispering Lose You To Love Me over and over and over.  Selena had taken over his mind once again.

“Justin!”  Billie shouted again.  She knelt down and lifted him up.  “JUSTIN!  Come back to us… Come back to us Justin… Think about Hailey.  Think about your cats…” He opened his eyes and looked around, coming back from the earworm’s grip, like waking from a deep sleep.

“What are you doing here?”  Scott asked, stunned out of thinking about Lana to suddenly see Billie Eilish standing before them.  “Where did you come from?!?!  You just suddenly appeared out of nowhere!  What happened up there?”

“What are YOU doing here?”  Lizzo questioned back.  She also suddenly found herself shifted into the room during the space-time shuffle.  The shuffle button forcing the expected playlist to shift randomly from one song to another in a nonsensical order.  “I just took a DNA test, turns out I’m 100 percent confused.”

Billie looked up from Justin, “Okay, what is going on here!  Where are we?”  Billie asked, now suspicious of Scott, the lawyer, and the others after her encounter with the Swiftian Alliance.  “Did YOU do this?”  She asked suspiciously from Justin’s side as she helped him up.

“No.  We didn’t do anything!  It’s the echo chamber!”  Scott replied.  “We’re under the stage in some kind of… Trap.”

“What?”  Billie replied, confused.  A moment ago she was finishing her set, ON the stage.  “I was just ON the stage.”  Or was she?  That’s weird, she remembered stuff happening after her set, she recalled walking off the stage, and the rest of the show happening, but the last place she actually was… was on the stage.

“Well now you’re under it.”  Scott replied.  “That’s how this business works, one minute you’ve got the number one spot on the Billboard Hot 100 charts, or Spotify, everyone sings along, the next minute, you’re falling, down, down, down… Until… no one even remembers your song lyrics…”

“Under the stagewalk…”  Kymmie began to sing.

“It’s boardwalk.  The lyric is boardwalk.”  Scott replied.

“Ohhhhhhh.  Yeah, that’s what I meant.”  She replied and began to sing again.  “Under the boardwalk…”  She stopped.  “We’re not actually under a boardwalk though, so I like my lyrics better.”  She sang again,  “Under the stagewalk…”

The bass line from ‘I Did Something Bad’ by Taylor Swift began to play, it sounded like several bass players had recorded it live, the bass tracks layered and compressed into one supersonic big giant bass sound, it was much different from the original track, the recording pumped into the echo chamber, reverberating off the walls like a giant church organ would, or like yelling into a large canyon, echo… echo… echo.  Or in Garden State, that one scene when they yell from the edge of that old machine into the infinite abyss right before the awkward third wheel kiss, and Peter Sarsgaard just stood there, while Zach Braff and Natalie Portman TOTALLY made out right after the big shout into the quarry.  Meanwhile, years later, somewhere in England, Florence Pugh, fishes an worn copy of Garden State on DVD from a thrift shop bin of super discounted used DVDs, she takes it home, watches the DVD and says during that scene, “One day… Those lips will belong to me!  You back away from my man, Natalie Portman!”  And then she pauses the DVD and stares at Zach Braff dreamily.  Sorry, what was I writing about again?  Oh yeah… The recording was just the way it would have been in the 1960s with Phil Spector at the mixing console, but a much bigger sound.  Except, he wasn’t at the mixing console, Phil’s mixing console days are long gone, as he sits in jail for the murder of Lana Clarkson.  She had every right to make it home that night, but she didn’t.  And she’s not the only one who would never make it home.  There are many, many others out there in the world who share a similar story.  Lana Clarkson has a story, just like every silenced voice has a story, for her, she was looking for an opportunity in the music business, and it led to her demise.  The dream took her through many twists and turns throughout her life until that night when she got into a limo and the limo drove to a castle, but this castle didn’t have a fairytale ending, no, this folklore isn’t the stuff dreams are made of… the trust she gave when she climbed into the horseless carriage was not reciprocated, it was taken away from her with the ending of her life.  Dreams in our minds, in our hearts, always lead to fantastic outcomes, as they should.  No one should have to worry about losing their life to follow a dream.  Florence followed her dreams and it led to her snagging that man she dreamed of stealing away from Natalie Portman that day she watched Garden State on that used DVD she bought at the thrift store.  But Lana?  She was innocently following the music, the thing we use to feel good, music, to get through the bad times, music, to celebrate the good times, she was working at the House of Blues, and sadly, for Lana Clarkson, the music led to murder.

“Wait, shhhh, everyone, quiet.  Is that the bass line for…” Scott listened.  “It’s the bass line from I Did Something Bad, but it, it’s sooo different… and there’s a sound mixed in… It’s….”  He paused and listened again… “It’s from Pet Sounds, I think.  That distorted breathy bullfrog upright bass sound that comes from the left speaker on Sloop John B.”  It was as if Taylor had directly collaborated to rerecord this song of hers with Brian Wilson himself.  Scott wondered if maybe Taylor’s plan to rerecord her masters included finding the greatest musicians of all time to work with.  To create a super group of her old recordings.  It would be genius.  No one would be able to put the albums down, it would be like experiencing an old sound in a new way.  Like reliving rock and roll, Taylor Swift style, her entire catalog would become iconic, every song featuring collaboration with the greatest musicians from every decade of music.

How many sounds were really out there in recordings around the world?  A flora and fauna of frequencies.  For all we knew every viral video on every social media platform contained some sort of mind altering sound seeping into the ears of anyone who views it.  Even something so innocent as a ticking clock.  TikTok… TikTok.  What’s really in the music?  TikTok.  TikTok.  Maybe you’ve already been infected, maybe the incubation is already taking hold, that last viral video you watched… Maybe the earworm truth will soon be told.  Or perhaps, it’s all just folklore.

“Wait, what’s a Sloop John B?” Kymmie asked.

“Oh, kid… Kid… You have SOO MUCH TO LEARN ABOUT MUSIC!  Pet Sounds!  Beach Boys!  It inspired the Beatles to write Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band!”  Scott said, super animated.   This is essential music history!  He thought.  How does she not know?  How does she not know about this?

“Who’s Sargent Pepper and why would they start a lonely hearts club?”  She replied.

“KID!!!  You’re killing me.  The BEATLES!”

“I don’t really like bugs.  I mean, some bugs are okay, I guess.  I liked A Bug’s Life though, that was a good movie.”

“KID!!!!!!!  YOU’RE KILLING ME!”

The sound grew louder… The Pet Sounds mixed in with the low pass frequency filter of Taylor’s song.

“Wait listen… do you hear that?”  Everyone stood quietly taking in the rooms reverberations.  Oak reached into his pocket and pulled out small portable sonic analysis device.  He held the mic up and inspected the tiny display.  “There’s definitely a low pass filter on this blocking out all frequencies above about 100hz, no, make that 110… 120hz and climbing, 130hz now, slowly going up… dB level is climbing too.  If I had to guess, there’s something hidden in the upper frequencies.  Wait, hang on, something’s wrong…”  He clicked a few buttons on the device.  Suddenly the device went dead.  He looked up from the audio analysis gadget.  “It just shut off.”  The device began to rapidly heat up, Oak dropped it on the floor and it began to smoke and melt before bursting into flames.  “What the heck!  Okay, seriously, I REALLY think we need to get out of here, like, right now.”  Oak Felder said in a slightly shaken voice.  Everyone else nodded as they stood around the burning audio analysis device.  “Whatever just happened to that device is going in our ears.  And into our brains.”  He said.  Everyone looked at Oak Felder,

“Oh my god!”  Kymmie exclaimed.  She cupped her hands around the headphones on her ears.

“Everyone with headphones on, don’t take them off.  DO NOT TAKE YOUR HEAPHONES OFF!”  Oak warned them.

“I don’t have any headphones.”  Billie replied from Justin’s side, holding him up, “and… I already switched Justin’s headphones to earworm cancelation.”  

“Why did you do that?”  Scott asked.  “With an earworm already in his head, hearing whatever this sound is could do something to his mind.”

“It could wipe it.”  Oak added.

“Because he was on the floor suffering!”  She yelled back.  “I didn’t know there was going to be a new sound!  I was trying to help him, not hurt him.”

“He’s being exposed to it!”  Kymmie cried out.  “Whatever IT is!  IT!  THE THING!  THE FIRE NOISE!!!!”  She pointed at the burning bit of melted electronics on the floor.  It popped like a campfire and sent smoke into the air, they jumped back.

“Well, so am I!  So is Lizzo.  And look, I’m fine.  I feel fine.”  Billie argued back.  She was suspicious of them.  Right now the only person she COMPLETELY trusted without a doubt was her brother, and he wasn’t here.  The sound isn’t real, Taylor told her, and everything Halsey said about taking sides and having a voice made sense.  But if it’s not real… She looked at the device on the burning device on the floor.  What is real?

“Lets go!  I don’t want THAT in my head!”  Lizzo also pointed to the smoldering audio device on the floor, a tiny flame burned on as smoke flowed up to the ceiling of the room.   Then she pointed at the smoke in the air… “Ummm… What is that?” They watched the smoke as it moved and shaped with the subsonic vibrations like sand on a Chladni plate.

“What the???  How is that possible? Oh my GOSH!!!!  OH MY GOSH!!!!”  Kymmie shouted now in full teen freakout voice.  Well, she was already in full teen freakout, but now it was totally over the top.

“Cymatic frequencies.”  Oak said ominously.

And let’s just say, you let your imagination run wild for a minute… Let’s say you had a place where large speakers were setup, like, REALLY BIG speakers, and those large speakers could interact with water, the way that speakers were interacting with water in the Cymatic YouTube video “CYMATICS: Science Vs. Music - Nigel Stanford”… perhaps special water specifically formulated to enhance the effects of the sound waves hitting it.  And you think, okay, where would that be?  Well, let’s say you have a entire speaker system setup, from the ground stretching upwards into the air a hundred feet, like you might find beside the stage at a concert, or festival.  Now let’s say you make it so that your concert or festival goers can’t bring their own water, let’s say you offer bottled water for them to drink.  Or any sort of drink that is mostly made of water, with a few other chemicals added to it, add a little sugar, some carbonation, a few Mentos to give it that pop rocks fizz.  And a concertgoer drinks that water from a bottle, or a water-like beverage goes into their blood stream… That water permeates every inch of their body, every bit of tissue, and then, the sound is turned on.  Cymatic effects on water with sound are Cymatic effects in you, out there in the crowd, listening to the concert…  and you dance as the music hits you.  The liquid inside you combined with the music, the frequencies hit you, and take over your body and brain, and everyone in the crowd becomes one with the sound and the performance on stage.

“Cymatic what?”  Carl Lyle Lawyer asked Oak Felder.

“It’s the effect of sound through matter.  When you put sound through matter at certain frequencies it creates shapes, for example if you pour sand on a plate and put the plate over a speaker, the sand will rearrange into different shapes, they’re called Chladni patterns, but… I’ve never seen shapes like those before, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen smoke show Cymatic effects… What the heck?  Those are unbelievable.  Look at those!”  The smoke danced in waves, shapes spiraled out and then pulled back in, giant tree limbs formed like hands reached around them then rose upwards into the center of the room, above their heads, then swooped below them.  The smoke shapes mesmerizing, keeping them stuck in place.  A forest scene appeared around them, welcome to the folklore forest.

“Oh my god… THIS IS REAL!  YOU GUYS… I’m literally freaking out right now.  Oh my god, lets go… PLEASE can we just go!  PLEASE!”  Kymmie screamed as she watched the smoke create ghastly Cymatic frequency shapes in the air that rush by her and the others.  Like ghost creatures in a haunted house.  The smoke controlled by bass frequencies bouncing off the walls around them.  “Lizzo, Billie, Justin, THAT is what is going in your brain right now!”  Kymmie pointed to a moving shape that looked like some sort of creature from an old tall tale.  Her index finger followed it, like Hermione Granger holding a wand, magically moving something through the air.   It whirled about, from one side of the room to the other, and then took aim at Billie’s head trying to go into her ear but she ducked as it rushed past her.  “Whoa!”  Kymmie stood with her eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost.  “What would have happened if that had gone in her head?”

“I think it’s trying to attack us.”  Oak said aloud without taking his eyes off the twirling smoke going up to the highest point of the room and then turning around and pointing directly at them.

“EVERYONE, LET’S MOVE, NOW!!!!”  Scott yelled out to the room.

“Wait.  What about my brother?”  Billie pleaded.  “Where’s Finneas?  What happened to Finneas!?”

“Billie… I don’t know, but we have to go, NOW!  RIGHT NOW!!!”  Scott argued back pointing at the hovering cymatic smoke stinger breaking apart into dozens of tiny twirling smoke streams.  They looked like branches of a tree without any leaves.  Branches of the folklore forest hovering above them.  Ready to attack.

“Okay well you all can argue all you want, I’m headed for the exit!”  Lizzo held her tiny purse to her side and began walked quickly towards the exit.

Everyone followed Lizzo as she headed towards the only visible exit away from the shifting sound, they moved quickly out of the echo chamber and into a very long hallway.  The tree limbs had begun moving towards them, like darts headed for a dartboard.

Kymmie looked back just before they slammed the door to the echo chamber shut.  She swore she saw the cat, Taylor Swift’s cat, Thomas Whittington Swift, within the Cymatic smoke shapes, sitting in the tree, smiling and waving, she also was almost positive the cat was wearing a cardigan…. A kitty cat sized cardigan.  But maybe it was a trick her eyes wanted to believe, smoke and a mirrorball, nothing more than folklore.  “So, is Taylor Swift, like, president now?  Or what?”  Kymmie asked.

“Ummm, I don’t know what’s going to happen.  Just run.  Okay?”  Carl said to her grabbing her hand as the group made their way down the dimly lit hallway after leaving Taylor Swift’s Cymatic echo chamber.  The hallway was much darker than the echo chamber.  The echo chamber had been lit with bright stage lights.  The hallway resembled a darkroom; a red light glowed from all directions.

“You know, I was thinking of running for president.”  Kanye said to the group as they jogged down a long hallway trying to get away from the sound.

“Okay, Kanye.”  Justin said as he stumbled on his feet.  Billie and Kanye helped him along.

“Oh, I’m serious.  2020 vision.”  He pointed to his sunglasses, up until this point in time it wasn’t noticeable but now, they definitely seemed futuristically out of place.  Perhaps, Ye from the future gave them to Ye of the past.

“You have my vote.”  Justin gave a thumbs up and Kanye smiled back.

“Well, you might have to run!  We don’t know what Taylor may have just unleashed on the world!”  Kymmie said dramatically, teenagerly, a hint of ‘on the verge of tears’ and subtle notes of ‘strain in the voice’ with a tiny bit of ‘almost a shout but not quite’.

“Kanye, you can worry about running for president later, right now, we’ve got to run for our lives.  Focus on the task at hand.”  Carl’s tone was the grown up teenager version of his daughter’s tone. Adults are just grown up teens, after all, taller children, and during times of chaos, sometimes… that exterior image can let your inner innocence show through.  His usual calm and collected lawyer tone had a hint of himself as an awkward teenage boy complete with a cracking voice, he was pretending to be cool about the current situation but, behind the lawyer dad façade, he was freaking out.  They all were.  Well, Billie wasn’t.  She was more interested in finding her brother and getting to the bottom of all this to figure out who the real bad guy was.  And then after all of this was over, she just wanted to take some time to think about her future.

“Well we don’t know for sure any of this is Taylor, this could be The Whale’s doing…”  Billie casually mentioned to the group.  Scott and Carl looked back at her through the darkroom-esk red glowing light, incredulously.  “I mean do we REALLY trust him?  There was bottled water back there!  And it was the same bottled water he had in his office!  Did anyone else notice that, the bottled water was the exact same!  I saw some sitting on that big table next to the food, and more of them tossed in the recycle bin.”

“Yeah, we drank those right before you and Lizzo showed up.”  Kymmie added.  “Oh my gosh, that food though, it was delicious… I want more.”

“Billie, I would be very careful not to connect things that may just be coincidence.”  Carl replied to Billie in a Slugsworth tone.  And of course, this was his employer he was talking about, his paycheck, those words could be a risk to his economic stability.  And since he needed to buy Kymmie a new phone because her old one was currently possessed, economic stability was not something he was interested in giving up.  When you’re vested in something, or have a teenage daughter who tends to break her phones, it changes things.  That’s why Taylor prefers to be cardiganed instead of vested.  Divest.  Cardigan instead.  Cardigans for all! Get it?  It’s a play on the word vest because you can be vested like invested, but you can also be wearing a vest, but instead of wearing a vest… You wear a cardigan, but you’re also divesting from the other thing and investing in Taylor.  So you’re cardiganed.  It makes sense, just think about it.  Just picture yourself wearing a cardigan while listening to Taylor’s new album, on repeat.  Cardiganed.

“So… What exactly is going on again and why are we running?  I mean, I get that we’re all running away from that smoke shape thing back there, whatever THAT was… But… WHAT IS GOING ON!?!?!”  Lizzo asked, lost.

“Umm… It’s a long story, Lizzo, just… go with it.  We’ll fill you in later.”  Billie replied, but she wasn’t exactly really sure of the story anymore herself, though… What she did know might actually be full of missing pieces, a lot of missing pieces.  The only thing she was certain of at this point was that she DEFINTIELY wanted to publish a vegan cookbook when all of this was over.  She pulled out her phone and made a voice note related to the vegan cookbook.

As they ran, they turned and twisted their way around corners and through what seemed like a giant underground maze trying to find an exit, to get out of the basement echo room… Taylor’s music close behind them, always growing louder no matter how fast they moved, the low pass filter slowly rising upwards in frequency, like the build before a beat was about to drop on a hot new dance track at a club rave.  And when the beat drops, that’s what the crowd loves, what the crowd craves.  It was then Billie noticed subwoofers were lined in the walls… A literal wall of sound all around.  Dark red walls with black speakers floor to ceiling.  Each speaker glowed with red LED lights placed inside the speaker, the light seeping through—an eerie red glow.  The red pulsed in sync with the beat of the music.  “Ummm, you guys…”  She pointed to the speakers in the wall.  “The entire hallway is lined with them...  They’re in the ceiling and…” She looked down, “They’re in the floor too!  We’re surrounded… by sound.”

“THIS WAY!”  Scott shouted pulling ahead of the group.  “We need to run faster.  It’s getting louder!”

“We can’t, Justin’s having trouble walking.”  Billie shouted back.

The sound behind them growing, the frequency sweep lifting slightly revealing new dazzling subsonic frequencies, the sounds pulsing through the hallway 200hz, and climbing, the decibel level also on the same upward trajectory.

Scott stopped in his tracks.

“What is it?”  Lizzo asked, walking beside Scott.  He pointed ahead of them.  “Look.”

A shadowy figure appeared ahead of them standing in the middle of Taylor’s surround sound hallway maze.  Everyone else caught up to Scott and Lizzo.  They watched the shadowy man as he stood perfectly still.  The sound behind them closing in as one speaker along the wall after another turned.  Each set of speakers triggering the next set, like a giant line of dominos, a slow volume increase, the rattle and hum the vibration of that yummy Swiftie sound trying to invade their eardrum.  The low pass filter rolling upwards to release more low frequencies into the air filling the sound spectrum like a curtain on a stage slowly pulling back to reveal the whole stage 210hz… 220hz… 230hz… slowly climbing…. Like that THX Lucas Film sound that plays before movies.  And you ask yourself, why that strange THX sound?  That odd synthy sweep.  It seems so random, but is it?  What about the Columbia Pictures intro with the lady holding a torch?  Or, how about the 20th Century Fox movie intro, I bet you can hear the accompanying music right now.  The Jerry Bruckheimer Films desert road and lightning strike hitting a tree, can you hear it?  The Paramount mountain peak surrounded by gold stars with the setting sun in the background, Spyglass Entertainment with the man on water holding a telescope device, Pixar’s bouncing desk lamp, a gold lettered ‘Universal’ wrapped around the earth, Marvel Studios, DreamWorks Entertainment and a child fishing from the moon, and of course, who could forget that iconic castle with fireworks behind it and that iconic melody we all know and love, and finally the Metro Goldwyn Mayer lion… Leo the Lion…. And the mask sitting below the lion in gold, or did you never notice the mask?  How about the phrase above the lion that if you read says ‘Ars Gratia Artis’ meaning Art for Art’s Sake.  Art for art’s sake… That we make art to serve a moral purpose, that art is valuable simply as art… Oh my, oh my, art simply for art’s sake!   What a bohemian dream.  Art is THE weapon on war, of control, a guise for power, perhaps?

Ars Gratia Artis.  It's right there in front of your eyes, if you were looking... But you don't see it, because you're distracted by the lion... Leo the Lion is where your attention goes, so you miss the hidden thing in the golden ring. You miss the latin slogan used by Metro Goldwyn Mayer, Ars Gratia Artis, Art for Art's sake, an English translation of l'art pour l'art that the intrinsic value of art, and the only "true" art, is divorced from any didactic, moral, politic, or utilitarian function.

Very few really value art for art's sake... l'art pour l'art.  Instead some works of art that are enormously valued, and there's a fight over the ownership of controlling that work of art, perhaps, long after the creator is no longer alive.  Sometimes the value fades with time, sometimes it appreciates.  And sometimes the creator can be trapped by the art they created, or it can be pulled out of their hands and used against them, a weapon of war.  Or it can be bought/sold/traded/kept away in a vault or exploited for financial gain.  When you sell art it can no longer be l'art pour l'art, it becomes something bigger, and sometimes that something is a Pandora’s box.

Art is the best Trojan horse anyone has ever created, you willingly let art in, you open the door wide and consume it, because you love it, you love books, movies, music, paintings, fine wine.  Art is a gingerbread house that you willingly walk right into… and once under the influence if your favorite song, the earworm works its way along, inside your mind, hooking you and never letting go.  Your favorite anything, becomes everything and it’s all you can think about, you can’t function without it.  Your favorite movie, as soon as that iconic movie company intro ends, Leo the Lion and his roar, the master Foley artists takeover as they’ve done so many times before, the pleasing click clack of horse hooves that you know are not hooves at all, but they sound so relaxing when you watch that movie that takes place 200 or 300 years ago.  Or that futuristic spaceship, the hum of the spaceship, which you know isn’t a spaceship at all, but probably hairdryers that have been pitched down a few octaves… The best art forgers of all time would be in awe of these modern day Foley artists, for they are art forgers who are finally accepted into the art world, forgery’s of the sonic palette, and they win awards for it too!  Accepted art forgers, creating fantastic audio art forgeries, like candy for our ears.  Two of the greatest art forgers of all time, Eric Hebborn would be rolling in his grave, and Lothar Malskat would give a standing ovation.  But you can tell movie sounds are fakes, they are frequency forgeries.  You can tell, because they sound better than the real thing.  But it’s that very reason we can’t get enough.  It’s why we get sucked in, our suspension of disbelief amplified beyond belief, it’s why if you display an MRI of our brains, the brainwaves go out of control when we hear that now familiar Netflix sound with the start of each new show.  These sounds go on when we close our eyes, embedded into our minds… Dolby Digital surround sound… sound… sound… All these sounds we hear… and without a pair of Oak Felder’s fancy headphones, the sounds out there are free to flow into your ears, and into your brain.  Of course, the headphones do no good if the sound is coming from the headphone itself and not outside the headphone.  Have you ever wondered about those intro movie sounds… Or, the intro album sounds, about why they’re there, or maybe what they do?  What happens when we hear these and they go into our brain like a Trojan horse, we happily hit play and take it in with joy and want more, the inviting intro, it resets your mind and primes you for what’s next.  They do this same sort of thing in shopping malls, and casinos, you know, there’s a space between the outside world, and the inside world that resets you, you push play and hear this seemingly innocent introduction that appears to have nothing to do with anything.  Then after the intro, the art jumps out and grabs you, like standing too close to a mirror looking in, and suddenly your reflection comes to life and pulls you into the mirror, and you break on through to the other side, tearing through the wall…

‘My Invisalign has finally... I have taken out my Invisalign… I have taken out my Invisalign, and this is the album ...’

“What do we do?”  Pop asked.

Oak looked back down the hallway, the sound creeping closer.  He pointed at the speakers embedded in the surround sound wall of sound around them.  “Eventually these speakers will overwhelm our headphones, the cancelation isn’t meant for this kind of power.  We can’t go back.”

“Ummm hello…”  Lizzo raised her hand. “Can I remind you that BILLIE AND I AREN’T EVEN WEARING HEADPHONES!”

“I think it’s low enough right now that you’re not getting infected with whatever it is.  Or it’s a mild effect, at least.  You may feel a slight buzz.”

“That’s comforting, Oak, thanks.  So, we’re only getting a small exposure to the same sound that lit your audio frequency analyzer device ON FIRE!”  Lizzo shouted to Oak.

He shrugged back.  “People aren’t the same as machines.  The interaction won’t be the same.  In this very moment you should be okay.  But with enough power…” He looked back down the hallway, the sound growing.  “I don’t think it matters I don’t think it matters if you’re wires and circuitry or flesh and bone.  The tone will affect everything it hits.”

Kymmie pointed ahead.  “But, we don't know who that is.”  The man ahead of them, unmoved, standing completely still.  The red glow illuminated his silhouette.  Shrouded in mystery.

The sound continued to grow louder, the all lows and no highs bass version of I Did Something Bad.  All bass, no treble.  The good vibrations working their way up the hallway.  The sound turned into a feeling.  The low frequencies now felt across their whole body.  Their blood inside their bodies shape shifting the same as sand on a Chladni plate experiment would.  The blood flowing around their heart, and inside their brains moving in fantastic micro-swirls pulsing and pushing, swishing and swifting.  The bottled water they drank a short time ago from the echo chamber’s dinner table circulating around every inch of their bodies.

Oak pointed to the wall of speakers. “Subwoofers don’t need ears.  You’re whole body can hear the sub frequency spectrum.  No matter what, given enough amplification behind these speakers, it’s going to happen.”  Oak stated, like a doctor giving bad news to a patient.  “Our choices are find out who that is… or…”  He motioned back down the hallway and then pointed to the speakers around them.

They all could feel the next level of rumble from the bass as the volume grew even louder like a thunderstorm on its way, each passing minute a little noisier than the minute before, crawling down the hallway, coming for them.  A musical monstrosity headed their way with great ferocity.

“LISTEN, we don’t have a choice!  We can’t go back and our headphones will eventually be useless!  Lizzo and Billie aren’t even wearing any of these Phil Spector phase canceling phones, anyway, so let’s just go!  It doesn’t matter who that is we just have to find out.”  Kanye proclaimed.

“I agree, let’s go!”  Lizzo shook her head yes.  She was holding her hands over her ears, like it might help.  Billie on the other hand was just letting the sound work its way around her cochlea, and anyway, she felt fine, or perhaps she just had too much on her mind to worry about ‘The Force’ in this Sound Wars story.

Scott nodded and they continued moving away from the SwiftFi sound.

As they approached the man they slowed, then stopped, again.  They stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say or do.  He stood facing away, absolutely still with his back to them.

“Justin, are you okay to stand?”  Billie whispered to Justin.

“I think so… Yeah.”  Billie and Kanye let go of Justin.  He wobbled slightly and they both reached out again. “I’m okay.”  He said putting his hand out and then touching the speaker on the wall of sound to steady himself.  Billie shared a concerned look with Kanye.  He didn’t seem okay.

“So, should someone talk to him?”  Billie asked the group pointing to the mystery man.

“Hello?”  Kymmie blurted out in the man’s direction without hesitation at Billie’s suggestion.

The mysterious man turned around.  He smiled.

“Who are you?”  Kymmie asked.

“Who are you?”  He asked back.

She looked to the others, then to her dad.  He nodded giving his legal guardian approval.  “My name is Kymmie.  Kymmie Lawyer, although that’s just a last name.  I’m not planning on becoming a lawyer when I grow up, even though my dad wants me to, but I told him I’d rather make it in Hollywood, or Broadway, or a social media influencer.  I’m not sure yet, I mean, I am sure, it’s just a matter of what I can break into, you know?  I figure if I can make it in one part of the business, I can make a lateral move into something else.  Breaking into the entertainment business is really REALLY hard…”

“Honey, I don’t really think he needs to know all of that.”  Carl said stopping his daughter.

“Well you never know.  This might be my big break!”

“Riiiiiiight.”  Her dad replied.  “Just, use your best judgment when it comes to whom you tell things about yourself, okay?  Not everyone in the world is out there to help you.”

“I know…  But I’ve got a feeling this guy isn’t a bad guy.”  She said sincerely, then turned back to The Man.

The man of mystery seem to consider what she said, or ponder it.  The group waited nervously.  The sound was growing.  It was moving down the hallway behind them, the sub sound, like a car in the distance with a massive subwoofer sound system, slowly driving closer.  The bass, distant, but audible, every few notes they could feel it, feel the sub bass line interweaved.  The bass was warm, inviting, pleasing.  The song beating in sync with their hearts, slowly weaving it’s way around then flooding into their bloodstream and crossing the blood brain barrier… into their minds.  Cells contorting into Cymaticly Swiftie shapes.

The sound continued its approach, a gas filling the air, expanding into the long open hallway space at a leisurely pace.  Their specially designed filter tone headphones would only hold back the noise for so long, if they were even working at all.  The circuitry inside was probably fried at this point and the vibrations?  There was no stopping the vibrations.  Headphones or not.  The beat would seep slowly into them and build, like a dose of poison building inside the body until it reaches a noticeable effect.  The threshold of sound saturation, the LD50 of becoming a Swiftie, and once that happens, there’s no going back.  Each row of speakers in the walls activating and boosting the beat more, the wall of Taylor Swift’s surround sound forward bound.

“Okay, sir, we’re kind of in a hurry here!”  Kymmie announced when The Man didn’t answer.

“Oh?”  He said casually.

“He’s toying with us.”  Scott said sourly.  He turned and stared into the abyss of the glowing red wall of sound hallway from which they had just walked along.

“Screw this, I’m going.  We’re wasting time and the sound is getting closer.  YOU may have noise canceling headphones but I don’t!”  Lizzo left the group and walked around the man continuing along the hallway, but she stopped only a short distance away. She turned and looked back with fear in her eyes and shouted.  “THIS IS A DEAD END!  THERE’S NO WAY OUT!”

“What?!  No!  It can’t be!”  Scott yelled back.  Then he sighed and slumped.  He leaned against the wall and placed a hand on the speaker, resigned to his fate.

Billie ran towards Lizzo to get a closer look, hoping for a door, or space in the wall.  She and lizzo inspected the wall… nothing, no opening just floor to ceiling speakers.  “It is!  The hallway just ends!”  She looked at Lizzo, fear in their eyes.  It was a dead end in the Swiftie sound maze.

“Yeah, I’m done, let me out of this surround sound escape room.  This is just too weird right now.”  Lizzo said back.

“Lizzo, you can’t leave, none of us can.  There’s nowhere to go!!!  It’s a dead end!”  Billie said, her voice shaking.

The subwoofer bass beat crept closer.  A fog of frequencies, a mist of music crawling through the air, calling out to them…

“Look, Mr. Mystery Man.”  Kymmie pleaded,  “We need your help.  Please.  That sound you hear down the hallway, it’s bad, we don’t exactly know how it is, or what it does, but all we know is that it’s bad, it’s something bad, it does something bad… We need to get out of here.  Can you help us?  PLEASE!”

The man smiled his flashy smile and then spoke theatrically, mimicking Kymmie giving out his full legal name too.  “The name’s William.  William B. Way, at your service.”  He flashed a full smile, grinning from ear to ear still ignoring the approaching sound.  His demeanor cool and casual.

“William B. Way?  Okay.  Well, William, can you help us?”  Kymmie asked, her voice cracking slightly with fear as she felt the vibrations tugging at her heart and moving out along her arteries, flowing to her hands and feet and into her brain, it was like she was outside of a Taylor Swift concert that had just started, wanting to go in, the concert inside inviting, but only the low frequency booming through her body, making it so she NEEDED to go in. She could feel the music changing her, it was becoming part of her cells, the teen Arianator shifting…  They cells wanted to scream for joy from the audience as Taylor performed on stage, her magnetic stage presence the only thing they yearned for.  Team Swiftie.

“Justin, where are you going?!”  Kanye suddenly shouted.  Noticing Justin was no longer by his side.

Justin had started walking back down the hallway, slowly, evenly, drawing closer to the subsonic frequencies of Pet Sounds mixed in with I Did Something Bad a Phil Spector special wall of Swiftie sound mixed to perfection, like a magnet, pulling them in.

“NO!  STOP!  Justin, come back!”  Billie shouted down the hallway.

“Something bad… something bad… It just feels sooo… Good.  It’s just feels so… Good.”  Justin didn’t look back, he just kept walking towards it… “Light me up… Light me up… Light me up… Sooo good, so good… hear it…. over and over and over and over again…”  He mumbled the lyrics to I Did Something Bad.  Justin was now infected simultaneously with two earworms.  LD50 of becoming a Swiftie mixing with Selena’s song.  Like mixing drinks.  Liquor before beer, in the clear, beer before liquor, get drunk quicker, or is it never been sicker?  Maybe it’s both… something similar applies to a playlist… Put the playlist in a very specific order and the earworm infection is amplified, but put them in the wrong order and… the consequences can be disastrous.  Play a specific set of songs in a specific order and the LD50 of each earworm you hear tugs your emotions and reworks them, rebalancing those emotion centers of your mind… Every DJ knows this… The perfect playlist, the perfect concert set list… get it just right, and it reworks your brainwaves.  It’s the difference between a packed club dance floor and everyone at a wedding never even leaving their seats.  The perfect playlist is like prescribing pills in a specific order, get it wrong and it can be depressingly deadly, but songs arranged just right, can save a life.

“No, Justin!” Billie ran down the hallway in his direction.

“Billie!”  Scott called after her.  “You don’t have headphones on!”

Billie ignored Scott.  She ran past everyone to go after Justin.

Kymmie turned back to Will.  “PLEASE!  Will!  We need your help!  Now!”  Kymmie shouted on the verge of tears.  “SAY SOMETHING!”

“Well…”  He paused to ponder again. “I have this thing I like to say.”  He paused again.

“WILL!!!”  Kymmie yelled.  “THERE’S NO TIME!  There’s no way out, do you know a way out?  PLEASE!!!”  The vibrations had reached their section of the hallway, the frequency sweep lifting along with the decibel volume level.  All the speakers activating.  The red pulse, glowing, brighter, and brighter.

“Where there’s a Will,” he pointed to himself. “There’s a way.”  He smiled a big smile then pulled a set of rainbow keys from his pocket.  The keys shaped like the feathers of a peacock, rainbow feathers.  He placed a key into one of the speakers and turned the key, and then he opened a hidden door in the wall of sound.

Kymmie stood in front of the open door gazing through—into the wall of sound.  “Wow.”  Her eyes locked on what she saw through the open doorway.  “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Man… He just opened a doorway to…”  Scott trailed off without finishing his sentence.  He walked slowly over to stand beside Kymmie.  “I… I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years in the music industry.”  He stared through the open doorway.

“Yeah, you don’t see that every day.”  Oak said to Pop.  He nodded back.

“Says the guy who has a secret passageway in his music studio that leads to the worlds largest headphone collection and shoe closet!”  Kymmie replied snarkily without looking away from the open doorway.

“Well… That’s fair.”  Oak laughed slightly then looked at Carl, “She’s a smart young lady.”

Carl nodded.   “Oh, don’t I know it.”

“Of course I’m smart I got my dad’s brains.”  Kymmie Lawyer’s lips curled upwards into a smile as she kept her eyes fixed on the interior of the wall of sound still not looking at her dad. “And my mom’s good looks.”  She joked completely transfixed on the doorway, like Jodie Foster when she first discovered the alien radio signal in the movie Contact.

“HEY!  That’s not very nice.  Eh, can’t have it all.”  Carl then shrugged turning back to Oak.  “Teenagers.”

Oak shrugged back.  “The things kids say to their parents.”

Kymmie walked a little closer to it and reached a hand out.  Will slid between her and door blocking her from going through and breaking her gaze through the wall of sound.  She shook her head and blinked her eyes coming out of the dazed state.

“Something’s wrong!”  Billie shouted back to the others.  “I’ve got Justin, but…

Scott turned away from the doorway in the wall of sound and yelled down the hallway. “What?!  What is it!?!?”

Kymmie also turned to look down the hallway.

“I don’t know, I feel weird, like I want to walk towards the sound too.  Something bad… but… Soo good… It just, feels, so… good… Light me up, light me up, light me up… ”

“Carol Anne… DO NOT GO INTO THE LIGHT!  Sorry, I mean, BILLIE, LISTEN TO ME!  Stop where you are, don’t even listen to it, DO NOT GO INTO THE SOUND!”  Scott Borchetta shouted to Billie Eilish and Justin Bieber as they continued to walk, one small footstep at a time towards the Swiftie special wall of Spector sound…

“She’s not wearing any headphones!  She’s getting a direct exposure!  Justin’s headphones are turned to earworm, he’s getting direct exposure too without any mitigation!”  Oak spoke loudly.  “Quick, someone go to her, and pull her back this way with Justin, umm, I have an idea, we’re going to have to make a human link.”  Oak formed a plan,  “I think this will work.”

“Justin’s always had my back.  Don’t worry Billie and Justin!  I got you!”  Kanye rushed down the hallway towards them and reached out.  “Billie give me your hand!”  He nodded empathetically at her and she nodded back giving him her hand, Carl Lyle Lawyer and Lizzo ran to add another link to the human chain along with Pop Wansel and Oak Felder.

“We need more people!”  Oak shouted up the hallway.

Justin tried to walk further down the hallway putting stress on the link.  He stared ahead dazed and swiftfused  “Light me up… light me up... So bad… so good.”  He said in a dreamy voice.

“Yeah…”  Billie echoed, slightly less dazed and swiftfused than Justin, but feeling something taking over.  “Light me up… Over… and… over… and… over… and… over… again…”

“DON’T LISTEN TO IT!  DON’T LISTEN TO TAYLOR’S MUSIC!!!!”  Scott screamed out, pleading with her, with Justin.

“But I… I can’t stop… I need it… I want it… I want more… I love it…”  Billie said in a dreamy voice letting Justin and the music pull her.  “I want it… I want to hear it so bad… It’s so good, so good… Light me up, light me up… over and over and over again… so bad, so good…”  She tugged at Kanye’s arm and he strained to keep a grip on her hand.

“IT FEELS LIKE THERE’S SOME UNSEEN FORCE PULLING AT THEM!  Like there’s another person tugging, like Taylor’s tugging at them on the other side!”  Kanye shouted back, Billie’s hand slipped slightly as they were now at a full arm’s length, Justin and Billie also at a full arm’s length, Justin tugging Billie into the sound. “I got you.  Billie.  I’ll save you.  I promise I won’t let go. Billie, look at me!”  Ye stared her in the eyes and for a second through his 2020 vision sunglasses.  She suddenly felt some of the sound fog lift from her mind and she shook her head blinking her eyes, like she had just woken up from being asleep, she tightened her grip on Kanye’s hand.  She tugged at Justin pulling him back slightly fighting off the urge to listen to the sublimely subsonic subliminal sound.

“HOLD ON!  EVERYONE JUST HOLD ON TO WHAT WE GOT!”  Oak shouted.

“It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not, we’ve got each other and that’s a lot.”  Carl completed the lyrics.

“Okay dad.  The whole point of this to make it out, so it does kind of make a difference if we make it.”

“Okay, daughter, you’re right.”

“Father, of course I’m right.  You’ve had your fair share of being right my whole life… It’s my turn now.”

“Teenagers.”  Carl said to Scott under his breath.  “They grow up so fast.”  Scott nodded then reached out and linked with Carl.  Then he reached his hand to Kymmie.

“You think you can hold all of us?”  Scott asked hesitantly.

“Hey, I’m a lot stronger than you think.  I can save all of you.”  She replied.  Then she pulled on them reaching towards the door.  William B. Way stood between Kymmie and the door.

“We need one more person!”  Scott shouted out, as Justin tugged at Billie, and Billie went half willingly towards the Swiftie Spector sound machine.  Half of her holding on to Kanye’s 2020 vision, the other half reaching LD50 of becoming a Swifitie, a cardigan awaits on the other side.

Kymmie turned to look at William standing by the open door, with his help they could reach.  “Look, I don’t know you, and this is crazy, but here’s my hand, so save us maybe?”  She reached out her arm and William grabbed it.  He nodded with a smile and with seemingly super human strength heaved the human chain forward as Kymmie and Mr. Mystery Will B. carried them through the mystery door and into the wall of sound.

@taylorswift