#a fraction of me is now bits of code and binary

[coastalqueerlive]

Art is dead, and AI is dancing on, teabagging, and having an entire affair with its corpse simultaneously.

[forsaken-headcanons]

I saw an ask where you said you are an AI Builderman believer so now I can finally gain the courage to talk about this topic.

Some of Builder's "functions" have either been deleted from his very code or locked away upon being forsaken(These functions include but are not limited to his ability to manipulate and assimilate raw code and materials into anything, abilities before his rework, etc)

Doubly affected by John Doe's corruption as it makes his systems and code go bonkers

He feels really hot actually; sometimes when he overworks himself he feels even hotter to touch, which is usually when Shedletsky or someone else forces him to "cool down"

His body becomes completely cold after death.

whenever it's down time and no one's doing anything, he tries to investigate his own code in order to find a way to unlock the abilities he can, he rarely ever succeeds though and when he does he finds it locked away again a few hours after; this time with heavier security.

Once he tried unlocking an ability he had that let him communicate with other admins in hopes of contacting Roblox, and he did..! For a few seconds. He couldn't even get a single word out before finding that function completely gone and void.

Shedletsky and a few other high-ranking admins are the only ones aware of Builderman being an AI

Taph and Dusekkar had suspicions but didn't really mind it enough to confirm

If you look closer his eyes have a faint glint of binary code, but considering their situation none of the survivors have though to do just that.

When Builderman dies his eyes no longer have said glint, but for a fraction of second before he dies his eyes seemingly "bluescreen". Very few killers or even survivors notice this, however.

It's faint, but some survivors swear they can hear buzzes and feel vibrations for him whenever they're close.

Said buzzes and vibrations completely halt upon dying

He doesn't sleep, he shuts down– and when he does that the buzzes, vibrations, and even heat shut down with him– making a very good impression that he just died. This freaked out so many survivors.

Whilst seemimgly random, there's code in him that makes him simulate blinking, breathing, and even a heartbeat. He actually put this code in himself because before he did, many robloxians felt uncanny valley with him

He doesn't know his creator, only the purpose of his creation– which was to create further.

He wasn't built as an unfeeling AI, he was built with those feelings, granted he was a bit confused by them and it took him quite a while to properly name and understand them.

He was actually built with an eternal smile, before he himself got tired of it and decided to edit it to give him more range in expressions

All food he eats is automatically converted into energy as soon as it enters his mouth

- Anon™️

I love all of those so much you have no idea. A lot of these line up with my own! I'll post my own AI Builderman headcanons sometime but just know that yours are peak and real and valid and I love them.

Down as Anon™️ you go. Thank you for this post. You fed me well.

[soboredidecidedtolearnthings]

#2 cs50

Not only I decided to continue learning how to code, I decided to take a more complete look into programing, and, really, computers and software. It took me to CS50, Harvard's beginner CS class that truly starts from the bottom and builds it up concept by concept.

I'm impressed by a lot of it, but first and foremost by how not disappointed I am. Which is, somehow, kinda sad. As a kid I had this dream of being a Harvard student, which faded for many reasons over the years, and but that still has a tiny hold on me. I like learning, I like learning well, and the idea of being in a place where people like it just as much was always appealing to me. Also, the aesthetics. The aesthetics was a big part of it. The years passed and it didn't happen, and I was glad in many ways that it didn't. First of all, because of money. I don't know about you, but I don't have that kinda budget. Second because institutions like Harvard have their own problems, and I was happy to not be a part of them. It's the part that disappoints me: that an institution like that is not well suited for the way I learn, and too reliant on the things that broke me as a student when I was younger.

It was a bit of a consolation prize, you can say. I never got there but, hey, maybe it's better like that. It was. It absolutely was. But taking CS50 from edX reminds me of why I wanted it in the first place. The class is, as the professor tells us in the first 1min, like drinking water from a fire hose. It's fast, dense and takes no prisoners, but it's also incredibly fun. Things are well explained; the logic of how the subjects are presented is flawless. It's human, and it assumes you're ignorant about the subject, but not an idiot.

I am, though, admittedly, insanely glad I'm not completely ignorant to the subject. I don't have formal instruction on computer science, and all my knowledge of it is patchy and inconsistent, but it's familiar, which does wonders in keeping me grounded on what's happening in the class. The first lecture is a whooping 2h long: 2h of non-stop new information. My attention span is laughable fraction of that. It is

Again: I'm glad I'm not actually at Harvard taking this.

I haven't finished the first lecture completely, I'm roughly one hour into it, when the professor starts introducing what I'm pretty sure it's gonna end up being big O notation.

I have no idea of how it works, and just a vague one about it is, and I was fading already, so I thought best to leave it for tomorrow.

For now, I'm gonna just stop and let my brain digest everything, and try to figure out the answer for a question that came to mind when he was explaining binary numbers that's bothering the shit out of me:

Why the fuck a byte is 8 bits, and not some other numbers? So far the internet has given me things that have to do with Unicode, and "it's just convention, which — fair, I guess. But one answer made me curious. Some guy on Reddit talked about the fact that the fact that 8 is 2 squared made me binary math easier, and memory better. I'm not sure what that means, but I want to figure out. Also, something in me tells me it might have to do with hardware... Back when all of this was being made hardware was a serious limitation, so maybe it's got something to do with it.

Not for the first time I wish classes on CS were taught historically, so I could understand why decisions were made the way they were, and understand the problems that warranted the solutions that ended up having so much of an impact on how things work long after they were resolved.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

MAYBE IT WILL HELP LATER STAGE INVESTORS AS WELL

Creating wealth is not a new idea. Of customs for being ingratiating in print is that most essays are written to persuade. These two are quite different criteria. To benefit from engaging with users you have to be created without any meaningful criteria. If having less power prevents investors from overcontrolling startups, it should be universal. Google's don't be evil policy may for this reason be the most restrictive. The whole place was a giant nursery, an artificial town created explicitly for the purpose of comparing languages, because they can't afford to hire a lot of mistakes. Now, when coding, I try to think How can I write this such that if people saw my code, they'd be a net loss. The importance of degrees is due solely to the administrative needs of large organizations. You probably can't overcome anything so pervasive as the model of work is a job. For example, in preindustrial societies like medieval Europe, when someone attacked you, you didn't call the police. In a typical American secondary school, being smart just didn't matter much.

In those days you could go public as a dogfood portal, so as a company. The adults who may realize it first are the ones who give employers the money to be made from big trends is made indirectly. Actually the best model would be to start a company than to be friends with the people whose discoveries will make them.1 Com. Plus he introduced us to one of the two numbers? Most investors, unable to judge startups for themselves, rely instead on the opinions of other investors. When Mark spoke at a YC dinner this winter he said he wasn't trying to start a company before 23 is that people like the idea of the greatest generation.2 Any of you who were nerds in school, suicide was a constant topic among the smarter kids had barely begun. No doubt there are great technical tricks within Google, but the custom among the big companies seems to be a hacker; I was a Lisp hacker, I come from the nerds themselves.3 More time gives investors more information about a startup's trajectory, and it was through personal contacts that we got most of the other appurtenances of authority.4 Someone has an idea for a class project.

Something that curtly contradicts one's beliefs can be hard. Like a lot of regulations. The actual questions are respectively patents or secrecy? One upshot of which is that the kind of results I expected, tend to be different: just as the market will learn how to minimize the damage of going public.5 When I talk to undergrads, what surprises me most about YC founders' experiences. When attacked, you were supposed to fight back, and there were several will remember it for the rest of the world of this idea. We were a bit like an adult would be if he were thrust back into middle school.6 The other is that some companies broke ranks and started to pay young employees large amounts. Or to put it might be worth a hundred times as much if it worked. The Selling of the President 1968, Nixon knew he had less charisma than Humphrey, and thus simply refused to debate him on TV. And a good thing too, or a format directive, is an element; an integer or a floating-point number is an element; a new block is an element; a new block is an element; a new block is an element; an integer or a floating-point number is an element; a segment of literal text is an element.

Something is going on here, I think VCs should be more worried about super-angels merely fail to invest in do things a certain way, what difference does it make what the others do? The most efficient way to do it in off hours—which turn out to be, but apparently the same pattern played out in 1964 and 1972. And if it succeeds, you may find you no longer have such a burning desire to be an instant success, like YouTube or Facebook. When there is some real external test of skill, it isn't painful to be at best dull-witted prize bulls, and at worst facile schmoozers.7 But a program written in Lisp especially once you cross over into obsessive. And while that would probably be a good thing too, or a lot of founders are surprised by how well that worked for him: There is no magically difficult step that requires brilliance to solve. Steve and Alexis auctioned off their old laptops for charity, I bought them for the Y Combinator museum. This is one case where the average founder's inability to remain poker-faced works to your advantage. And yes, while it is probably not one you want anyway.

We did, and again for hypocrisy.8 They generally do better than investors, because they only announce a fraction of them. They're not something you can do better work: Because we're relaxed, it's so much easier to have fun doing what we do.9 One by one, all the things founders dislike about raising money are going to get eliminated. It doesn't add; it multiplies. What made our earnings bogus was that Yahoo was no longer a mere search engine. Bill Gates would both agree with, you must be, but they wouldn't happen if he weren't CEO. That's why we rarely hear phrases like qualified expert in the software business.10

If you find something broken that you can find. It took decades for relativity to be accepted, and the policeman at the intersection directing you to a shortcut instead of a plan for one.11 The true test of the length of a program.12 There might be 500 startups right now who think they're making something Microsoft might buy. Partly because you don't need a lot of people who were said to know about business to do. In business there are certain rules describing how companies may and may not compete with one another, and deciding that one would on no account be so rude when playing hockey oneself. Think about what it means. I kept finding the same pattern played out in 1964 and 1972. This is not exclusively a failing of the young. The big mistake was the patent office's, for not insisting on something narrower, with real technical content.

In a startup you're judged by users, by starting your own company.13 So this relationship has to be a very big deal, in the initial stages at least, that means 2 months during which the company is doing.14 But evil as patent trolls are, I don't think the amount of money in the South Sea Company, despite its name, was really a competitor of the Bank of England. Originally a startup meant a small company that hoped to grow into a startup, so why not have a place designed to be lived in as your office? As a rule their interest is a function of growth. Not at all.15 Plenty of famous founders have had some failures along the way. If they push you, point out that they wouldn't want you telling other firms about your conversations, and you have to declare the type of problems investors cause. Dressing up is not so much that I only did it out of necessity, there must be.16 So I think it was. Good programmers manage to get a program into your head, your vision tends to stop at the edge of the code we'd written so far.17 Wardens' main concern is to keep the founders interested.18

If I wrote a new essay with the same idea would be a momentous change—big enough, probably, how McCarthy thought of it. There's nothing that magically changes after you take that last exam. What made the options valuable, for the social bonds they created. And we were careful to create something that could be better. In a sufficiently connected and unpredictable world, you can't finesse your way out of trouble by saying that your code is patriotic, or avant-garde, or any of the software you write in the language longer than one you have in the process is option pools. The second will be easier. The most memorable example of medieval industrial secrecy is probably Venice, which forbade glassblowers to leave the city, and sent assassins after those who tried. They started because they wanted to hear.19

Notes

Most employee agreements say that a startup idea is crack. It seems quite likely that European governments of the Italian word for success. Actually he's no better or worse than he was 10. The two guys were Dan Bricklin and Bob nominally had a broader meaning.

But it was.

Sparse Binary Polynomial Hash Message Filtering and The CRM114 Discriminator. But in a couple predecessors. But it's useful to consider themselves immortal, because the kind that has a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say that YC's most successful startups looked when they say that education in the Valley. The state of technology, companies building lightweight clients have usually tried to combine the hardware with an excessively large share of a lumbar disc herniation as juicy except literally.

The real problem is not just a few people who make things: the way up.

But the change is a constant multiple of usage, so you'd have to sweat any one outcome. Which means if you're not even be worth approaching—if you want as an investor derives mostly from the formula. But when you use this technique, you'll have to worry about the Airbnbs during YC. More often you have to pass.

This is a scarce resource.

If you treat your classes because you need.

Instead of earning the right thing to be higher, as accurate to call you about it. In general, spams are more repetitive than regular email. But not all of us in the US News list? In Jessica Livingston's Founders at Work.

Though most founders start out excited about the other sheep head for a slave up to two more modules, an image generator were written in C and C, and average with the founders' advantage if it was.

Especially if they knew their friends were. Eric Horvitz. Ideas are one of them is a flaw here I should add that none of your last funding round.

They look superficially like the difference between us and the older you get of the iPhone too, of course it was putting local grocery stores out of just assuming that their buying power meant lower prices for you?

But it isn't a quid pro quo. So if you're not consciously aware of it. During the Internet.

94. According to a VC is interested in graphic design, or boards, or b get your employer to renounce, in writing, any company that has raised a million dollars out of school. For the price, they were already profitable.

Since capital is no longer a precondition.

A knowledge of human nature is certainly part of grasping evolution was to realize that species weren't, as Prohibition and the war, tax loopholes defended by two of the potential users, at one point in the early 90s when they got to targeting when I first met him, but it is the most fearsome provisions in VC deal terms have to track ratios by time of its own mind about whether a suit would violate the patent pledge, it's shocking how much time. Credit card debt stupidest of all, economic inequality.

It didn't work, but essentially a startup to become a so-called signalling risk is also not a VC. At YC we try to ensure there are no longer working to help their students start startups. The root of the economy.

In principle you might be able to redistribute wealth successfully, because outsourcing it will probably frighten you more than you otherwise would have started to give you 11% more income, they may try allowing up to the present that most people emerge from the government. That follows necessarily if you saw Jessica at a Demo Day or die. Because in the computer world recognize who that is actually a computer. Imagine the reaction of an FBI agent or taxi driver or reporter to being a tax haven, I would take up, how much you get, the top stories were de facto consulting firm.

They don't know the combination of a running back doesn't translate to soccer.

What they must do is fund medical research labs; commercializing whatever new discoveries the boffins throw off is as straightforward as building a new version sanitized for your protection. Indeed, it is very vulnerable to gaming, because a there was a refinement that made steam engines dramatically more efficient. But the margins are greater on products. Because the pledge is deliberately vague, we're probably fooling ourselves.

[fantasticmains]

Decimal to binary converter

#DECIMAL TO BINARY CONVERTER UPDATE#

#DECIMAL TO BINARY CONVERTER 32 BIT#

#DECIMAL TO BINARY CONVERTER FULL#

#DECIMAL TO BINARY CONVERTER 32 BIT#

"3.14159", a string of 7 characters) and a 32 bit floating point number is also performed by library routines. The conversion between a string containing the textual form of a floating point number (e.g. This can be easily done with typecasts in C/C++ or with some bitfiddling via in Java. a 32 bit area in memory) and the bit representation isn't actually a conversion, but just a reinterpretation of the same data in memory. The conversion between a floating point number (i.e. This source code for this converter doesn't contain any low level conversion routines. Don't confuse this with true hexadecimal floating point values in the style of 0xab.12ef.Ĭan you send me the source code? I need to convert format x to format y.: The hex representation is just the integer value of the bitstring printed as hex. This can be seen when entering "0.1" and examining its binary representation which is either slightly smaller or larger, depending on the last bit. Not every decimal number can be expressed exactly as a floating point number. However this confused people and was therefore changed (). This is effectively identical to the values above, with a factor of two shifted between exponent and mantissa. Note: The converter used to show denormalized exponents as 2 -127 and a denormalized mantissa range [0:2). The exponent value is set to 2 -126 and the "invisible" leading bit for the mantissa is no longer used. If the exponent has minimum value (all zero), special rules for denormalized values are followed. If the exponent reaches -127 (binary 00000000), the leading 1 is no longer used to enable gradual underflow. it is not actually stored) with value 1.0 is placed in front, then bit 23 has a value of 1/2, bit 22 has value 1/4 etc. The mantissa (also known as significand or fraction) is stored in bits 1-23.Īn invisible leading bit (i.e. The exponent can be computed from bits 24-31 by subtracting 127. The value of a IEEE-754 number is computed as: Please note there are two kinds of zero: +0 and -0. You can enter the words "Infinity", "-Infinity" or "NaN" to get the corresponding special values for IEEE-754. To make it easier to spot eventual rounding errors, the selected float number is displayed after conversion to double precision.

#DECIMAL TO BINARY CONVERTER UPDATE#

Or you can enter a binary number, a hexnumber or the decimal representation into the corresponding textfield and press return to update You can either convert a number by choosing its binary representation in the button-bar, the other fields will be updated immediately. IEEE-754-Standard contains formats with increased precision. The conversion is limited to 32-bit single precision numbers, while the There can be surprising differences in what numbers can be represented easily in decimal and which numbers can be represented in IEEE-754. This is the format in which almost all CPUs represent non-integer numbers. This webpage is a tool to understand IEEE-754 floating point numbers. So you can easier tell the difference between what you entered and what you get in IEEE-754. The difference between both values is shown as well, Entering "0.1" is - as always - a nice example to see this behaviour.

#DECIMAL TO BINARY CONVERTER FULL#

Well as the actual full precision decimal number that the float value is representing. Now the original number is shown (either as the number that was entered, or as a possibly rounded decimal string) as Previous version would give you the represented value as a possibly rounded decimal number and the same number with the increased precision There has been an update in the way the number is displayed.

[thedreadgay]

the end of chaos

series: josepha & judith original publish date: aug 30 2016 word count: 1557 author’s notes: this was my ‘how mass effect 3 actually ended’ fic even tho lbr the catalyst just shouldn’t have been there at all but lol. also josepha shepard is non-binary. have fun

“Where did the Reapers come from?” Shepard rasped. “Did you create them?”

Shepard clutched their broken and bloodied side with one hand, a near-empty pistol in the other. Their chest rattled horribly with every breath and they were so, so tired, but they would not fall now. They could not. The ghostly figure, the Catalyst, stared up at them with the face of just one more they couldn’t save.

“My creators gave them form. I gave them function. They, in turn, give me purpose,” the Catalyst explained, watching calmly as two Reapers drifted almost lazily to a target in unison. Like wiping the galaxy clean was the simplest thing in the universe... Shepard’s legs trembled with horror and exhaustion. “The Reapers are a synthetic representation of my creators.”

“And what happened to your creators?” Shepard asked, looking up to the sky. What they hoped to find there, they didn’t know. All the stars held were destruction and their burning homeworld.

“They became the first true Reaper. They did not approve, but it was the only solution.”

‘They did not approve,’ that’s a light way to put it, Shepard thought bitterly. They were hanging by a thread, watching thousands die as warships were blown to bits, and they couldn’t stop the contempt that seeped into their voice as they turned back to the Catalyst. “You said that before, but how do the Reapers solve anything?”

The Catalyst was unfazed by their disdain. “Organics create synthetics to improve their own existence, but those improvements have limits. To exceed those limits, synthetics must be allowed to evolve. They must, by definition, surpass their creators.  The result is conflict, destruction, chaos. It is inevitable.” Shepard’s brows knit together, and they cast their gaze to the side in thought. “Reapers harvest all life—organic and synthetic—preserving them before they are forever lost to this conflict.”

Shepard couldn’t believe what they were hearing. “We’re at war with the Reapers right now!” they cried with a tremble to their voice, pointing to the chaos around them and gripping their pistol tightly, though it felt like knives up their arms.

“You may be in conflict with the Reapers, but they are not interested in war,” the Catalyst corrected coolly.

“I find that hard to believe," they said with venom. Was it oblivious to the hell it created, or did it simply not care? They didn’t know which was worse.

“When fire burns, is it at war? Is it in conflict? Or is it simply doing what it was created to do?” The Catalyst stared up at them evenly. “We are no different. We harvest your bodies, your knowledge, your creations. We preserve it to be reborn in the form of a new Reaper.” It gazed around at what it had wrought, and Shepard couldn’t comprehend how it thought this was right. “Like a cleansing fire, we restore balance.” It turned back to Shepard. “New life, both organic and synthetic, can once again flourish.”

“You kill us all... because you think you’re saving us,” Shepard murmured, incredulous. They coughed wetly, barely registering the blood dripping from the corner of their mouth.

“I am saving you,” The Catalyst stated.

“No...” They shook their head slowly, and it made their vision swim. They blinked hard, took a breath. “No,” they repeated, more firm. Though their muscles screamed in protest, Shepard stood straighter. “This isn’t ascension. This isn’t preserving us, it's destroying us. Conflict—that’s what you claim is inevitable when synthetics evolve.” They took a painful step forward. “And you said it yourself, before you went back on it: we're in conflict with the Reapers. You're not a force of nature, you're a creation who instigated conflict with your creators.” The Catalyst blinked, and Shepard took another step.

“This is slaughter. It’s ruin. Look around you.” Shepard waved their hand at the fiery debris scattered among the stars. “This isn't an inevitability, it's a choice you made. You, a synthetic intelligence, destroyed your creators, and destroyed everyone and everything that came after them."

"No," it interrupted, "I never destroyed—"

"What makes us people?" Shepard leaned in. "What makes all living beings, organic and synthetic, who we are? Isn't it when we're given space to define ourselves? To grow?" They glared, accusatory. "You take away the ability for self-definition when we're turned into Reapers. You break us down to ghosts of our pasts, cutting short growth for our futures. You annihilate us."

"No—" The strange echo turned frantic—

"Everything you've done has contradicted your purpose, your very existence. You’re a synthetic intelligence, eradicating all life over and over... so we won’t be wiped out by synthetic intelligences.” The Catalyst’s eyes went wide, and Shepard’s voice rose to a shout, rough like sandpaper on stone. “For millions of years, you’ve just been repeating a self-fulfilling prophecy! You’ve brought about the very chaos you were created to end!”

Shepard’s voice rang around them, faded, and then they were plunged into silence. The Catalyst simply stared with unbelieving, childlike eyes, and Shepard glowered in turn, daring it to prove them wrong. The gazes and silence held as civilization crumbled around them.

“You... are correct,” the Catalyst finally murmured, sounding as small as the child they mimicked. “I...” It looked down at its feet, then up at the fires burning in the vacuum of space, brows together. “I did not calculate...” It trailed off, echoing and lost.

“Maybe you needed an organic viewpoint to see the bigger picture,” Shepard said quietly, their throat raw from shouting.

“Yes,” it whispered simply. It still did not look at them.

“Do you see now,” they asked, “what can be accomplished when synthetics and organics work together? Listen to one another?” The Catalyst didn't speak, and Shepard continued. “When conflict arises, it can be put to rest by seeking understanding, not by genocide. Look at the quarians and the geth; there’s peace between them now. And there can be peace between you and the peoples of this cycle.” Their look hardened. “But you have to end this. Now.”

“... Yes,” the Catalyst repeated. “If my solution was incorrect... then perhaps so were my calculations. Perhaps destruction of one or the other is not inevitable. Growth, as you say... beyond a point not thought possible.” A moment passed, and then it finally looked back up at Shepard. “The Reapers must be destroyed, utterly and permanently. A remaining trace would still carry risk for indoctrination; even dead gods still dream.”

Shepard’s bones creaked as they shivered at the familiar words, but a wave of relief washed over them all the same. Finally, this could end. “Then show me how to use the Crucible,” they demanded desperately, tiredly.

“The device you refer to as the Crucible is little more than a power source,” the Catalyst explained, turning to the blazing beam of light at the end of the platform. “However, in combination with the Citadel and the relays, it is capable of releasing tremendous amounts of energy throughout the galaxy. If I disseminate my code among Reaper forces with the command to self-destruct, it will end them.”

“Disseminate your code?” Shepard echoed, taken aback. “Meaning you’ll die?”

The Catalyst did not turn around. Shepard could barely see the outline of it against the light emitting from the Crucible, and in its silence, they almost thought themself to be alone. “In organic terms, yes."

It was an odd thing Shepard felt, that they couldn't quite name—a sort of wonder, maybe, observing something ancient meeting its end. Sadness at that, perhaps. The witnessing of so much sacrifice weighed heavy in their chest, but there was acceptance in knowing the Catalyst was fixing its mistake. Hope glimmered for the living and dead to be at peace.

At Shepard's silence, the figure turned, regarding them calmly. “This is how I will fulfill my purpose.” It faced forward again and began to walk, white light trailing in its wake like smoke. “I will disseminate my code and command into the Crucible. Then you must fire it.” The Catalyst pointed to an adjacent platform, and Shepard saw it: a tube-like detonator. They felt another burst of strength in their body.

“Thank you,” Shepard murmured, nearly breathless. The Catalyst looked over its shoulder at them, quiet for a moment.

“Your thanks are unneeded. I am simply making what is wrong, right.”

Shepard nodded. The Catalyst turned back to the beam, and hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Goodbye.”

The Catalyst’s form flickered as it stepped forward, then disappeared.

The beam expanded and burned brighter, thrumming with power, and Shepard was truly alone with only one task left.

With a heaving gasp, they willed one foot in front of the other, limping heavily to the other end of the platform. They stumbled up the ramp and tried to catch their breath, coughing up another splatter of blood and spitting out a tooth, feeling like a ripped up ragdoll—but they were here. They were here, at the end.

Down the long platform stood the detonator. Shepard could feel the hum of the Crucible in their bones, in their heartbeat, and it was all they could hear as they breathed in. Three years of battle, sacrifice, and death flew before their eyes to stop here. Breathed out. Shepard took a step forward, aimed their pistol, and fired.

[asleepinawell]

Neon and Dust: Chapter 1

The Shoot space western AU that no one asked for.

(AN: The rough first chapter of the person of interest space western au that no one asked for. Rough because I haven’t fully finished world building stuff and won’t until I finish STC. It’s a bit long for tumblr but I didn’t want to move it over to ao3 just yet. The hub planets, if I ever write that far, will be more cyberpunk-y thus the neon in the title. Final rating unknown as of yet.)

I just updated this (Dec ‘17). Nothing major, just some minor world building stuff since I’m posting the second chapter…only half a year later. Once I’m more thoroughly committed to finishing it I’ll move it to ao3.

(Chapter 1| Chapter 2)

“Call.”

Shaw looked around the table over the top of her cards. “You boys sure about that?”

The sound of a ship passing overhead roared through the bar and the entire building shook slightly, bottles rattling on shelves. Sounded like a freighter to her, probably headed towards the nearest terminal to blink the hell away from this dusty hellhole on the outskirts of nowhere.

“I said call, you damned cyborg.” The big guy across the table from her had been getting angrier and mouthier over the last few rounds as the little blue numbers on the credits bar in front of Shaw had ticked steadily upwards.

Shaw almost rolled her eyes at the insult; she was pretty sure he didn’t actually know about her arm. She dropped her cards on the table. “Read em and weep.”

She heard quiet mutters throughout the bar as everyone took in her cards.

“You’re cheating.” The man on her left stood up and leaned on his fist on the table, trying to tower over her.

“Maybe you’ve just got shit luck.” Shaw slouched down further in her chair, the smallest of smiles playing around her lips. It was really too damn hot for the fight that was inevitably going to break out. Despite the fans turning lazily on the ceiling, there wasn’t even the semblance of a breeze in the dark bar.

“Well, your luck just ran out.”

The man reached behind himself, presumably for his gun, but Shaw didn’t wait to know for sure. Her left arm shot out under the table and clamped onto his upper leg, squeezing hard enough that she felt something snap. He screamed incoherently, and collapsed to the floor.

There was a long moment of silence and then the other two men at the table both jumped up, reaching for their guns. Shaw finally did roll her eyes and kicked the table over at them. She used the time it took them to recover to unfold herself from her chair and stand up, rolling her shoulders back and cracking her knuckles. The knuckles on her right hand, anyway.

Her left arm, hidden beneath her long coat and a very special glove a friend had gotten for her, was a bit…different. She’d have to pull her punches a little in this place or someone would catch on. (The man whose leg she had just pulverized could be a problem, but it had been so worth it).

Or maybe she could take them all on with only her right arm. Sounded like a good challenge. She wasn’t carrying any weapons today, didn’t want to give the Local Enforcement officers any reason to take a shot at her.

In her peripheral vision she saw five or six other people from the bar slowly moving in.

Looked like it was going to be a fun assignment after all.

When the Local Enforcement officers got to the scene five minutes later, Shaw was the only one left standing. Mostly standing. One of her new friends had smashed a bottle on her leg and done a bit of damage, but nothing too serious.

“Empty your hands and turn around!”

Shaw sighed and dropped the man she’d been holding by the throat. She turned around slowly and raised her hands.

“Don’t want any trouble, gentlemen.” She tried to look harmless, though she was aware that given the large number of injured, groaning bodies around her it was probably a tough sell. But pummeling Enforcement officers was not on today’s agenda so she needed to play along. These guys were pretty pathetic for even Local Enforcement officers, definitely the bottom of the barrel, but they still technically reported into the Interplanetary Republic (and, in doing so, Samaritan) and that meant not causing a scene.

Well, more of a scene.

She should have gotten out of there sooner, but it was too late to regret that.

“Arrest her,” snapped the leader of the squad. “And don’t try anything or we’ll open fire.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, officer.”

Reese was going to have a hissy fit when he bailed her out.

“Finally.” Shaw stood up when the Enforcement officer approached the cell door.

He looked at her and sneered. “Oh, you’re not getting out. We’ve just got some company for you.”

Another officer came down the hall, shoving a woman in front of him.

“Oh, hell no.” Shaw stalked over to the bars. “You are not putting her in here with me.”

“You two know each other?”

Shaw glared at the other woman, took in the mischievous look in her eyes and the shit-eating grin on her face.

“I know her type.”

“I thought I was your type, sweetie.”

Shaw was tempted to give herself away and just punch straight through the bars and knock the woman’s teeth in. Instead, she fumed quietly and made herself step back so they could open the door.

The first officer shoved her new companion into the cell and slammed the gate behind her. Both men turned to leave.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” the woman called after them, holding up her still-restrained wrists.

“Those stay on,” the first officer said. “We don’t want any repeats of what happened earlier.” Both officers disappeared through the metal door at the end of the hall.

“Well, I can’t say much for the hospitality here, but at least the company is excellent.”

Shaw made a disgusted noise. “Why the hell are you here, Root?”

Root pulled experimentally on the metal cuffs. “I got arrested, obviously.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that for even a second.”

Root only smiled and waltzed past her to perch daintily on the edge of the bench that ran along the back wall of the small holding cell.

“The officer who arrested me was quite serious, I promise you. Also very grumpy. These cuffs are way tighter than regulation. He must have been having a bad day.”

“Any day that involves you is a bad day.” Shaw chose to lean against the wall rather than sit anywhere near Root. Her leg still hurt from the fight earlier, but she’d examined it and determined the cuts were very superficial. She’d have a hell of a bruise though.

“Really? Because I can recall a couple days you definitely seemed to enjoy that involved me.” Root did that thing she probably thought was winking.

Shaw wasn’t in the mood to talk about the days Root had referenced, no matter how much she’d enjoyed them. Most of them. Maybe if she hadn’t ended up unconscious in a cheap hostel with her guns (and clothing) missing after their first run-in it would have been a better memory. Her subsequent run-ins with Root had been a lot tenser. Except for one.

She remained silent and, for a few blissful seconds, Root did as well. But good things never lasted.

“The gloves are a nice touch. Those are modulating gloves, aren’t they? Hear they’re pretty hard to come by.” Root had been eyeing her in a way that was far too familiar for Shaw’s tastes, so she was a little surprised that it was her gloves she’d chosen to comment on.

“Friend got them for me. Means to an end. Help me avoid unwanted attention.” They were actually illegal, like any other clothing item that masked the texture and feel of a biometal prosthesis, but Zoe had connections. “Well, most unwanted attention.”

Root only smiled at the jab. “Local Enforcement officers really aren’t the brightest, are they? Most regulations have them practically strip search prisoners. You’re safer here than you would be on a Hub planet, but Samaritan has eyes everywhere. Even out here.”

“I’m only in here for a bar brawl. Not like I robbed a Galactic bank.”

Root’s smirk grew more pronounced.

Shaw stared at her. “You didn't…”

Root leaned back against the wall looking far too pleased with herself. “What can I say? A girl’s gotta eat somehow.”

“That’s a felony, Root. They put you up against a wall and shoot you for that.”

Root shrugged. “They’re welcome to try.”

Shaw thought about pressing the point, but decided it was none of her business. Well, almost none.

“Your…boss…gonna get you out of this one then?”

“She’s your boss, too.”

That was a fairly complicated issue which Shaw had no intention of diving into while stuck in a holding cell.

“How is it they never find that thing in your head when they arrest you?”

Root half-raised her bound hands towards her right ear before stopping herself. “Same way they never spot your arm, I’d imagine. They’re very unimaginative and stupid, and full body scanners cost too much for a backwater place like this.”

Shaw pushed off the wall and took a seat next to Root on the bench. “Let me check it.”

Root retreated fractionally. “It’s fine, Shaw.”

It was the first time Root had used her name since she’d been dumped in the cell and something about the way she said it made Shaw scowl.

“Bionics are a crapshoot. Stuff can go wrong in all sorts of ways, requires frequent checkups and observation. Which I’m betting you’ve never done.”

The smile on Root’s face was forced now, her eyes wary.

“Stop being such a baby.” Shaw grabbed her arm to hold her in place and then pushed the hair back so she could get a look at her right ear. Under the longer top layer, Root had shaved her hair very short. She’d done something or another to it so all the long hair fell around the back and right side of her head, leaving the short hair visible on the left side so everyone could see the design she’d had shaved into the cut. Only Root would think it was cool to have binary code shaved into her hair as a fashion statement.

But Shaw figured the entire look was also to cover up and draw attention away from her right ear.

There was a nasty, curved scar behind Root’s ear. It had healed as well as possible given the circumstances, but she’d had it reopened a few months after the initial injury to get her…upgrade.

The tiny metal jack and mic behind her ear were almost impossible to spot unless someone knew what they were looking for, and the rest of the tech she’d had added was embedded under her skin and couldn’t be seen without a scanner. Shaw checked the area for any discoloration or other signs that the implant was being rejected by her body. Biometal did a damn good job of integrating with tissue, but it was still a long ways away from perfect and she’d seen what happened when the body rejected it.

“Looks pretty clean,” she admitted begrudgingly. She’d been the one to patch it up the first time, when the injury had been fresh. That had been the less-tense meeting she’d had with Root since she’d been so out of it that Shaw hadn’t been worried about her causing trouble. Mostly she’d been worried Root was going to die in the room of the hostel Shaw had been staying in and she’d have to explain the corpse to Enforcement officers. That had been back when the worst Enforcement would have done was just execute them. Before Samaritan.

She hadn’t liked seeing Root like that: scared and half-dead. She was usually so damn cocky and sure of herself, but that night….

“She’d let me know if there was a problem,” Root said, brushing her hair back over her ear. She dropped her cuffed hands onto the arm Shaw was using to hold her in place. “Your arm never gave you any trouble.”

Shaw only felt the faintest whisper of her touch. Even if she hadn’t been wearing her coat, she wouldn’t have fully been able to feel it. Her arm was well-made, a blend of biometal and hard chrome, the best money could buy, but it was only as good as the available technology which meant her sense of touch was very limited with it. Root’s fingers ran down her arm in a gentle caress.

“Don’t touch me,” Shaw growled, grabbing Root’s wrist with her very human right arm and pulling it away.

“You touched first, sweetie.” Root didn’t fight against her though and actually slid away a little once she was free. Shaw had forgotten how much she disliked having her right ear touched or even examined.

A longer silence stretched between them this time and Shaw wondered if she was going to be left in peace until Reese showed up.

“So what did you get arrested for?”

Apparently she wasn’t that lucky.

“Bar fight. Some nice fellows thought I was cheating at cards.”

Root chuckled. “You were cheating at cards.”

“Not my fault they couldn’t cheat better than me.” She hadn’t even been trying that hard. “How’d you know I was cheating, anyway?”

Root just raised an eyebrow as if that had been the dumbest question Shaw could ever ask.

“Oh, right. Your boss is a creep.” Why had she bothered asking if she knew?

Root shrugged. “She protects you more than you know. She protects all of us. Even that big lug who hangs out on your ship.”

“Technically it was his ship first.”

The Indigo Five hadn’t had Shaw’s name on her register until a year ago. She’d started out as their former employer’s gift to Reese and hadn’t even had a name beyond her ship classification type and ID, but Shaw had insisted on naming her and then, after it had just been the two of them left, Reese had decided Shaw should own her.

“You two still pretending to be a transport ship?” Root rattled her cuffs a bit as if uncomfortable.

“If your boss is tattling on us then you know we are.”

“Got a contract from this place yet?”

“Not so much.”

The blistering hot town on the tiny planet in the middle of nowhere that they’d landed on to deal with their number wasn’t much good for finding real work.

“I know someone who might need a lift off this place. They can pay well, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shaw realized about half a second later where this was going. “Oh. No. Absolutely not. You are not allowed on my ship.”

“I can pay. Double your rates.”

Shaw clenched her jaw. They really needed some credits. For food and fuel if nothing else. But she didn’t trust Root in a jail cell and she definitely didn’t trust her on her ship.

“Thought you had your own ship. That pile of junk finally break down?”

“She’s not a pile of junk! She’s unique.”

Shaw just shook her head. The little stealth fighter Root piloted around didn’t belong away from a fleet. The thing couldn’t even go through a terminal on its own unless she snuck it through and it wasn’t designed to deal with the forces blinking between terminals put on a ship. From what she knew, Root got around by using her stealth cloaking to latch on to larger ships going her way.

“Keep telling yourself that.” She noted that Root had avoided her question. If she wasn’t going to tell her why she needed transport then all the more reason Shaw wasn’t letting her on board.

“Please?” Root sounded sincere and it made Shaw shift uncomfortably. “It’s important, Sameen.”

Ugh.

“Tell you what, you somehow manage to get out of here and back to my ship before me, and pay me double, then we’ve got a deal.”

Root was silent for a second and then nodded. “Okay, Shaw, we’ll play it your way.”

Shaw decided the matter was settled and leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes.

Her eyes shot back open when a heavy weight dropped in her lap.

“But playing it my way is definitely more fun,” Root murmured from inches away from her face. She dropped her bound hands over Shaw’s head to hold her in place and scooted forward to get her knees fully up on the bench on either side of Shaw’s legs.

“Knock it off, Root.” Shaw grabbed her by the hips and tried to shove her off, careful not to grab too hard with her left arm. She didn’t really want to break Root in half. Maybe only bruise her a little.

“Say the word and I’ll get up, but do you have a better way to pass the time while we wait?” Root asked.

When Shaw failed to tell her to move, Root pressed herself up against her as much as she could and leaned over to put her lips right next to her ear. “I love it when you put your hands on me. Especially that one.”

“Forgot about your creepy bionic kink.” Shaw made a half-hearted effort to pull Root’s arms back over her head, but she’d laced her fingers into her hair so the whole exercise was only causing Shaw to get her hair yanked which was…not helping with her attempts to remain unaffected.

There was also the small issue of the great view down the front of Root’s shirt she currently had.

“It’s not a bionic kink. It’s just a you kink.” Root pulled back enough to grin at her and then leaned in again to gently capture Shaw’s earlobe between her teeth.

Shaw twitched slightly at the feeling and gave up on trying to untangle Root’s hands.

“Fuck it,” she muttered.

“Mmm, pretty sure it’s me you should be fucking.”

“Shut up.”

She’d forgotten how great Root was at kissing: the quick bites on the lip, the tiny satisfied noises that Shaw enjoyed way more than she’d ever admit, how quickly she opened her mouth for Shaw’s tongue.

This was not how she’d seen her day going, but she wasn’t going to complain.

She pulled her gloves off and ran her hands up Root’s back under her shirt. At the touch of the cold, hard fingers of her left hand Root shivered and pulled back with a small gasp.

Shaw let her hand drift up Root’s side. Her thumb slid around to the front to rest over her ribs, right below her breast. Things didn’t feel the same to her left hand as they did to her regular hand; all the sensations were muffled, and skin especially felt weird, almost like it had a slight electric current running through it. Touching people, running her hands over bare skin, was a strange but thrilling sensation.

“You know, I broke someone’s leg with this arm earlier today,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “Snapped the bones and tendons like they were nothing.” She tightened her grip a little. She could exert just a fraction more pressure and break Root’s ribs to pieces.

Root moaned in her ear, enjoying the situation way more than anyone with even a lick of common sense should.

“Maybe when we get back to your ship you can give me a full demonstration,” she breathed.

“Thought I might right now. No better way to pass the time, right?” There didn’t look to be any security cameras in this crappy jail.

“Sorry, sweetie. We’re about to get interrupted.”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed. She was willing to bet Root had known that before she’d started all this. It would be just like her to get Shaw all worked up and then leave her high and dry.

She grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up and off her. This time Root didn’t resist her at all, getting her feet back onto the floor and lifting her arms back over her head. She straightened her clothes out and smirked at Shaw.

“I do appreciate the enthusiasm, but you might want to put your gloves back on now.”

Shaw cursed and scooped her gloves up off the floor, slipping them on. If she touched someone with her left hand with the gloves on the temperature and texture made her touch feel almost like she had a normal hand underneath.

Root sat back on the bench next to her, rubbing at where Shaw’s thumb had pressed into her ribs. “I’m going to have a nasty bruise there, Sameen.” She sounded quite pleased.

Shaw’s breathing had almost returned to normal. She glared at Root.

“I hope you get shot.”

If anything that only made Root smirk more.

The sound of metal screeching as the door at the end of the cellblock opened announced the return of an Enforcement agent.

“You.” The agent pointed at Shaw. “Made bail. Let’s go.”

“What about me, officer?” Root was doing something Shaw could only describe as simpering. She almost rolled her eyes again.

“You aren’t going anywhere ever again. At least not until someone comes to collect you and have a chat about those missing funds. Then you’ll get a quick trip to a shallow grave if you’re lucky.”

Shaw moved out of the cell as soon as she was able to, waiting as the officer locked the door again. Root moved over to thread her fingers through the bars and smile at her.

“See you later, Sameen.”

“I’d say I can’t believe you got arrested again, but that would be a lie.” Reese sounded resigned.

As if he didn’t do his fair share of getting on the wrong side of Enforcement.

Shaw squinted and shielded her eyes from the brightness with a hand. She’d left her hat on the ship so it wouldn’t get damaged in whatever brawl she’d ended up in. There was always a brawl to be had on worlds like this. She’d worn her coat though, a faded black leather duster that was definitely too hot for the climate but that she’d be damned if she took off.

Reese also had his coat on despite the weather, though his was a normal length and had ridiculous fringe on it that he thought made him look very cool.

It really didn’t.

“Finished the mission, didn’t I?”

“We were supposed to save the guy’s life. You broke his arm in three places.”

“He’s alive, isn’t he?”

She’d warned the guy off in the middle of the fight. Reese had told her he’d already stowed away on a ship headed to another system, injured arm and all.

The main street of the small town was almost deserted in the midday heat. There was a rusted-looking automaton jerkily painting the side of a shop. Damn thing was such an old model it was practically an antique. Shaw wondered if it would fall to pieces if she touched it.

She half-expected a tumbleweed to roll down the road.

“What the hell are we doing in this place, Reese?”

“The Machine gave us a number and it’s a lot easier to get away with stuff like that stunt you just pulled out here in the Ore Colonies than it would be back in the Central Systems.”

She missed the cities on the planets of the Central Systems, especially the ones on the Hub Planets. Everything there was dark alleys, neon signs, and backstreet criminals. No one cared how many biometal limbs you had and, if you had the credits, you could stay at a place which had a real bathtub. She missed bathtubs quite a lot.

Of course there were also some pretty compelling reasons for them to stay the hell away from the Hub Planets these days, though everywhere in the Interplanetary Republic carried some risk for them.

There was a fading sign tacked to the front of the bar she’d partially-demolished that showed a featureless human figure offering a helping hand to another human figure lying on the ground. ‘Samaritan: Helping You Help The Galaxy’ it said under the picture. Shaw rolled her eyes. An Artificial General Intelligence posing as a technological breakthrough in communications systems was somehow the least and greatest of the galaxy’s problems these days.

Speaking of problems….

“Guess who I ran into?” she asked.

“About half the town. With your fist.” There was a small smile on Reese’s lips though.

“Yeah, oops.” Probably the most entertainment they’d had here in years. “Root got tossed in jail with me.”

“Root?” Reese almost missed a step. “Saw her face pop up on the wanted boards network while I was waiting for you. Whoever her latest identity is robbed a Galactic bank yesterday.”

So she hadn’t been kidding about that part. Shaw was genuinely impressed.

“Maybe she was trying to hide out here.” She couldn’t imagine Root getting caught if she didn’t want to be. Especially not by the weak excuse for Local Enforcement officers that this place had to offer. Why the hell had she been in that cell with her?

They reached the edge of town and turned to head down the dirt trail that led out to the shambles of the town port.

“She have anything interesting to say?”

“Uh, no. Not a thing.” Nothing Reese would want to hear about anyway.

“Weird coincidence, I guess.” Reese didn’t sound convinced. Working for the Machine had left both of them highly suspicious of coincidences.

“Guess so.”

The town port was basically a flat stretch of dirt with a rusted fence around it. There couldn’t have been more than five other ships there.

They could see the Indigo Five once they got a little closer since she was one of the larger ships in the small port. She was only a mid-sized cargo ship, not more than 20 meters high, an Interplanet Rapid Transit model. An IRT: Thornhill, to be exact, the only one in existence. And maybe Reese had made a few…alterations when he’d gotten her. And maybe Shaw had made a few of her own since. She was a damn good ship in Shaw’s opinion.

And more importantly, she was home.

“Isn’t that…” Reese pointed towards the Indigo Five.

Shaw groaned. “She didn’t.”

There was a small dock area on top of the Indigo Five meant for a smaller, short-range ship to attach to, though they hadn’t had a smaller ship in ages. However there definitely was a ship there now. Shaw would have recognized that battered pile of junk anywhere.

“Thought you said she was in prison still?” Reese asked as Shaw unlocked the side-hatch and spun the pressure-lock wheel.

“This is Root. She cheats.”

“Says the person who had four aces in their hand and another two up their sleeve.”

“There’s cheating and then there’s Root.”

She found their new passenger in the bridge, her feet propped up on the console.

She was wearing Shaw’s hat.

“Hey, sweetie,” Root said, dropping her feet to the ground and spinning the chair around to smile at her. “Love the hat.” She tipped the brim up with two fingers.

It was a wide-brimmed leather hat that matched Shaw’s coat. She’d broken someone’s nose for looking at it cross-eyed and Root was just…wearing it.

She was going to murder her.

“Well, my ship is attached and ready to go, so I’ll just go make sure Mortimer hasn’t gotten himself into trouble while you sort things out up here.” Root took the hat off and put it crookedly on top of Shaw’s head, giving it a little pat.

“Oh, and here’s my itemized list of possessions I’m bringing on board. I know John is a stickler for procedures.” Root waved a long piece of paper at Shaw who took it out of reflex. Root slipped by her into the narrow hall leading to the rest of the ship, only brushing up against Shaw’s butt a little bit on the way.

Reese was on his way in and stood well clear to let Root pass.

“Uh, hi, Root.”

“Hey, big lug. Long time, no see.”

“Seem to recall you emptied my pockets and took my gun last time we ran into each other.”

“Bygones,” Root said dismissively. “That was months ago. I’m a changed gal.” She wandered away down the ship corridor.

“Shaw?” Reese raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to rip her into pieces and put each piece out the airlock in a different system.”

“Well, that sounds fun, but without credits we can’t afford to fly to all these systems. She paying at least?”

Shaw got ahold of herself. “Yeah, she said double our usual rate.” She could probably afford it, too, if she’d just robbed a bank. They’d have to have a chat about how clean her credit lines were though.

“That’s something anyway.” He nodded his chin towards the paper she was holding. “Love letter?”

Shaw reminded herself that she needed Reese alive.

“Itemized list of all her shit.” She shoved it at him, not wanting to deal with it, and dropped into the pilot chair. She needed something to punch. Or shoot. Maybe punch and then shoot.

“Items: One (1) elite space hacker. She itemized herself?”

Shaw dropped her face into her hand. “She would.”

“One super cool space stealth fighter, Paradox. IRT: Turing model.”

Shaw didn’t look up. She was going to leave her face in her palm until he finished reading; it would save time.

“Three pairs of space boots, black leather, light wear and tear.”

“Space boots? What the fuck is a space boot?”

“Three space shirts, blue, red, and black.” He made a face. “I’m pretty sure she just put the word space in front of every item on this list.”

“There is something massively wrong with her.”

“Two pairs steel-reinforced, extra padded…space cuffs with blue fuzz space trim. Uh, what?”

“Oh god.”

“One sparkly, purple space vibra…”

Shaw shot up and snatched the list away from him. “I think I get the idea.”

“I mean, we’re just taking her somewhere and dropping her off, how bad could it be?”

Shaw looked over the rest of the list, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You have no idea.” An item near the bottom jumped out at her. She remembered what Root had said as she was leaving…something about making sure Mortimer wasn’t getting into trouble. “Reese. What the hell is a space cat?”

As if on command, the yowl of an upset feline echoed through the hallways of the Indigo Five, followed by excited barking.

“Dunno but we’d better go make sure our space dog doesn’t chase it into the engine.”

Shaw crushed the list in her left hand. What had she ever done to deserve this?

(AN: For anyone curious, the Indigo Five is a bit smaller than Serenity from Firefly. Similar ship type to that and the Bebop from Cowboy Bebop. I’m figuring out some more details on her still, but I’ve found some concept art that matches what I was thinking. Also thanks to @heyjenocide for the test read, am happy to report she’s now putting the word ‘space’ in front of random words.)

[appliances0houston]

Electron-Ness: Why Are All Electrons Identical?

Go to your local store and buy several items of the same product - say a package of three golf balls. Though the golf balls appear identical, closer examination will reveal ever so slight differences. One ball maybe fractionally larger; another ever so slightly less best shapewear spherical; perhaps the third is ever so slightly lighter. The generality that extends from this is that any two seemingly identical products will have nevertheless slight variations in their properties.

Now buy a packet of three electrons (or their antimatter equivalent, the positron). Each electron, or positron, will be identical in size, mass and electric charge to as many decimal places as you care to measure. All electrons (and positrons) are 100% absolutely identical clones.

Take one electron and one positron and bring them together. They annihilate releasing a fixed amount of energy. Take another electron and another positron and repeat the scenario. The pair will Maternity Shapewear annihilate releasing an identical amount of energy in the process. The amount of energy released in each electron-positron annihilation case is the same, to as many decimal places as you can measure. That's quite unlike taking a match from a box of matches, striking same and releasing its stored chemical energy as heat energy. Another match from the same box wouldn't release, to as many decimal places as you care to measure, the absolutely identical amount of heat energy.

How come identical golf balls aren't but identical electrons (or positrons) are?

Electrons (or positrons), having mass, can be created from energy (just like mass can be converted to energy as in the case of the electron-positron annihilation process). You (human intelligence) can't create identical golf balls, but a seemingly non-intelligent natural washer dryer clearance process (Mother Nature by any other name) can create or produce copies of a fundamental particle, like an electron (or positron), that are clones of one another down to the nittiest-grittiest detail.

Even with quantum mechanics in force, you'd think energy could create or be converted into an electron with twice the standard electron mass or twice the electric charge, or thrice even. But no. You see one electron you've seen them all - every electron that is, was or will be, anywhere, everywhere, anytime, every time in our Universe. Electrons, like Black Holes, have no hair. That means they have no individual personality. In fact Black Holes can be said to have some fuzz because they can and do differ in terms of size, mass and electric charge. Electrons have the exact same appliances houston size, mass and electric charge, so absolutely no hair! Relative to Black Holes, electrons (and positrons) are absolutely bald!

Invoking all things quantum is still a bit of a cop-out in that while quantum means things are this or that, one unit or two, one energy level or two energy levels, there's no explanation as to why it's only one or two, not one & a half. It just is, but why remains a mystery.

Why are all electrons (and positrons) identical?

1) Of course THE cop-out answer is that that's just the way God wanted it and no correspondence will be entered into regarding the matter.

Unfortunately, there is no real evidence for the existence of any deity past and/or present that stands up to any detailed scrutiny.

2) One could resort to an explanation car dealerships in houston  via string theory merged with quantum physics. String theory just replaces elementary particles as little billiard balls for elementary little bits of string (albeit not string as we know it). Now maybe, as in all things quantum, these strings can be one unit in length, or two units, or three units, or four units, etc. Any positive whole number multiple of one string length is okay. Now say that a two length unit of string is an electron. A two unit length of anti-string is therefore a positron.

Or, one can suggest that strings vibrate and can only vibrate at specific frequencies as any musician playing a stringed instrument knows. So, a string vibrating at one allowed frequency is an electron; if it vibrates at another allowable frequency maybe that's a proton or a neutron. Again, a vibrating anti-matter string would produce luxury cars houston  manifestations of the antimatter particles, a positron being dependent upon one of the allowable vibrating frequencies.

Of the two possibilities, it's the vibration rate theory that's preferred. All strings are of the same fundamental length - their rate of vibration can differ, but at precise intervals. What causes strings to vibrate at the rate they do, and how they can change rates of vibration (morph from one kind of particle into others) are questions better left for another time.

Unfortunately, string theory has no credibility in terms of any actual experimental evidence, and, to add insult to injury, it requires the postulation of ten to eleven dimensions in order to fit the Houston SEO Expert  pieces together. If string theory gets some experimental runs on the board then, and only then, will it be time to take strings seriously.

3) Well, one other possible explanation is that all electrons are absolutely identical because there is only one electron in actual existence. If you see the same object twice, thrice of a zillion times over, then it's the same object and the fact that it is consistently identical is not a great mystery. But how can the Universe contain only one electron? That seems to be the least obvious statement anyone could ever make - the statement of a total wacko.

Well, one explanation goes something SEO Company Toronto like this. Our one electron has zipped back and forth between the Alpha and Omega points again, and again, and again. Now multiply 'again' by zillions upon zillions upon zillions of times. When you take a cross section at any 'now' point in time between the Alpha and the Omega, there will be zillions upon zillions upon zillions of electrons visible 'now'. Simple, isn't it?

Unfortunately, while there is no violation of physical laws at the micro level in travelling through time (apart from going forward at a rate of one second per second which we do whether we like it or not), no exact causality mechanism has been proposed to explain how and why an elementary particle shifts gear into time reverse (or forward again).

Back to the original question, why what career is right for me  are all electrons identical? Or not, as the case may be.

4) Perhaps in other parallel universes, ones that have different physics, all electrons (if they have electrons at all) might not be identical. That possibility is akin to asking about numbers of angels dancing on pinheads. There's just no way of ever knowing since parallel universes are beyond the reach of science as we know it.

But say each member of the particle zoo weren't identical to every other member in kind. Say electrons came in a thousand variations of mass and electric charge; ditto the other elementary particles. You'd have a particle jungle. If that were the case, presumably it would prove to be very difficult to create identical atoms of the elements and identical molecular compounds and ultimately it would prove difficult to business analyst certification  build up the structure of our Universe as we know it, including us. An analogy might be that it's far easier to assemble a ten piece jigsaw puzzle and one with a billion pieces. Our particle zoo seems to be a Goldilocks zoo - not too many particles and variations thereof; not to few either (I mean a universe composed of just identical electrons is equally as bad for life as we know it). Of course if that - the Goldilocks particle zoo - weren't so, we wouldn't be here to ponder the issue.

Moving on up the chain, assuming all members of the particle zoo are identical then atoms of any particular element must be identical - if you've seen one gold atom, you've seen them all (though owning them all is quite a different matter). If elements come in different isotopes, then all the specific isotope atoms of that element are identical.

Further moving on up the chain, if identical atoms combine with other different identical atoms, then presumably the early childhood development resulting molecules will be identical. While that's true, it's only true up to a point, because eventually you can get molecules that while seemingly identical, have handedness. That is, your hands, while identical, aren't identical because one has a left-handed orientation; the other has a right-handed orientation. That's the point things start to fall apart or break down.

That apart, macro objects, like golf balls, are composed of millions of atoms and/or molecules. If a golf ball has one more, or one less molecule than another, well the two aren't identical.

5) Introducing the maths connection: Here, there and everywhere, on a flat surface, the shortest distance technical schools near me  between two points is a straight line; triangles have a sum total 180 degrees; 2 + 2 = 4. In each case, it is so to as many decimal places as you care to calculate. Every 7 is identical to every other 7 - no more and no less. That's true whether or not one is dealing with base ten, or in binary (base two).

So what's the connection? All computer generated simulations, in whatever context, for whatever purpose, are ultimately software programs, which in turn are just mathematical constructions. All you see are ultimately expressions of maths, of binary bits, of 0's and 1's, something on or off. So if you simulate some object using binary software programming, and you create another object using the exact same binary software coding, then those two virtual objects are identical. Now, call what you have A+ certification training  simulated, 'electrons'. So if all electrons are identical, maybe it's because they are mathematical constructions - the end products of computer software/programming.

In simulations, virtual objects can interact with other virtual objects (more mathematical wizardry). Change happens. Well, that's what we observe in our reality too. The question is, is our reality really real reality, or simulated reality? Are our electrons identical because each is the product of an identical piece of binary software programming? That may not ultimately be the answer, but it's an answer. Electrons are the same since they are all constructed from the same mathematical whole cloth of binary bits - of 0's and 1's.

Discussion: One may argue that there are indeed differences between electrons (and positrons), we just haven't measured to enough decimal places yet. While that might be true, I personally wouldn't want to bet on it.

Conclusion: I started out with the question of why all electrons are identical. The answer is, I don't know and neither, I plus size shapewear  suspect does anyone else. However, the foundation of physics (itself the foundation for the other sciences) is grounded in maths, and maths, as noted above, has no problem with the concept. All identical equations yield identical results; the 'equals' sign itself demands identicalness. Perhaps maths has more fundamental 'reality' than anyone has given it credit for. That's certainly the case if we should happen to be inhabiting a software generated, simulated Universe

Postscript: The concept of identicalness can bring us into some weird scientific and philosophical territory. Two people examining the same object will not agree to the Nth degree that the object under consideration is the exact same object, an identical object, when compared from each person's perspective. Perception is ultimately a function of brain chemistry and no two people have the exact same brain chemistry due to various factors like genetics, age, physiology, disease, fatigue, and/or intakes of various solid, liquid and gaseous elements and compounds that directly affect brain chemistry. The differences may be really tiny and nitpicky but nevertheless present. To take another case, if three court stenographers all record and transcribe a days worth of testimony, no doubt there will be (ever so) slight differences in the final three versions.

Even the same person experiencing used appliances houston   the same object or event a second, third, etc. time - say watching a film again or listening to a CD track again, won't have identical experiences, again due to the internal brain chemistry being slightly different on each occasion. That's apart from the fact that external influences like temperature, humidity, pressure, and general wear and tear (entropy) all affect that object or event and the environment between that object/event and the person experiencing the object/event. Those external factors also change from moment to moment.

People though tend to agree (brain chemistry not withstanding) on what an independent umpire says about an object or event - the independent umpire being an instrument or measuring device. Instruments are of course also subject to external influences, but aren't affected by brain chemistry - they have no brains!

Measurements tend to be numerical, and numbers are pretty straight forward. However, all measurements are subject to some uncertainty or error margins, especially analogue devices like a ruler - is it 1.510 cm or 1.511 cm or 1.509 cm? Or a thermometer - is it reading 31.37 degrees or 31.38 degrees or 31.36 degrees? Or take a standard watch or clock - is it 12:00:00 or 12:00:01 or 11:59:59?

Digital instruments however have readouts that have a finite number of places in which to display the result, so they don't tend to give you a plus or minus uncertainty error bar. A digital instrument will readout that the length IS 1.510 cm; the temperature IS 31.37 degrees; the time IS 12:00:00, and everyone looking at the readout will agree.

In the case of an electron, the independent umpire gives the same numerical results for each electron it measures. Of course there are still error bars, but with each further decimal place reached, identicalness holds and the error bars get less and less.

[cassert24-blog]

Fixed-point Approximation of Exponential/Logarithm/Power Functions

I’ve been working with the fixed-point representation of decimal numbers for my research project, and I reached the point where a cost-efficient implementation of math functions is necessary. Specifically, I need to implement the major three math functions, namely exponential, natural logarithm, and power, on the fixed-point representation. Surely low-cost means loss of accuracy, I tried to find an approximated implementation, IN FIXED-POINT REPR. I found this popular blog post that tells about the approximation, but unfortunately, it was for floating-point numbers so it is incompatible with the fixed-point ones. But as his basic idea was simple and universal enough to apply for the fixed-point numbers, I decided to formulate the same approximation method for the fixed-point numbers.

  0.  Preparation

Before we begin, it will be much better to define our fixed-point terminology. Below is a code snippet, where you can find some types and constants that you may be going to encounter throughout this post.

As for the types, we shall use three kinds of types; int, fixed32, and bitvec32. All are essentially the same 32-bit integer but have different names due to their usage. The usage should be obvious by their naming.

All fixed-point-related constants start with a prefix ‘FIXED32′. FIXED32_M and FIXED32_F is the length of the integer part and the fraction part, respectively. I referred to this page (the Qm.f notation) to name these constants. FIXED32_ONE is the number 1 represented in the fixed-point representation, and FIXED_FRACMASK is the bit-vector that produces only the fraction part if AND-ed to any fixed-point numbers.

We further define two basic operations; ToFixed32 and Fixed32_Mul. The reason why we don’t have + and - operation is because they are the same as the integer counterparts; the operation is same. We simply skip the division because we will never use it here.

  1.  Exponential

From now on, I’ll introduce the underlying formula of the approximation, and then transform it to code. First, the exponential function is quite straight-forward, as its approximation has been formularized by a mathematician (See here). Basically, the formula is as follows:

So according to this formula, the exponential of a variable x is 2 to the integer part of T, times (1 + the fraction part of T). T can be derived directly from some constant operations. All we need to do is copying this formula to code.

Note that some optimizations are applied. For example in Line 26, we used OR(|) rather than ADD(+), as the fraction number must be smaller than 1. This optimization is insignificant in the perspective of software, but can be significant in hardware which is currently the area of interest.

  2.  Natural Logarithm

Things get complicated when it comes to the logarithm function, since, as far as my knowledge goes, there is no publication about how to approximate it. But he suggested a simple but interesting idea; why not just invert the approximated exponential function? I decided to give it a shot, in terms of the fixed-point numbers. So basically the approximated exponential function (top-most equation) can be represented like this.

If we define y as exp(x), we can get the above equation very easily. But here’s a tough situation; how can we decide T when we don’t know x? Well, let’s first write the equation and then think again. (NOTE: Here we just pretend as if the left-shift operator () is a mathematical operator.)

By definition, exp(x), the function of T as like the right-most-hand side, is no other than y, the argument that we obviously know. So basically we are close enough to find out T. But how? Well this time, let’s think about the binary number that represents y. Since T.frac is lower than 1 by definition, (1 + T.frac) will go like (1.xxxxxx..) in a binary representation. y is no other than (1 + T.frac) shifted left by T.int.

Now, let’s notice that (1 + T.frac) has a fixed most significant bit place, which is the first binary place of the integer part. Since (1 + T.frac) may have been shifted by T.int to produce y, we can inversely think that the difference between y’s most significant bit place and the first integer bit place is T.int!. Then will it be simple to find out the binary place of the most significant bit? As far as I searched, Sir Slick’s suggestion is the most hardware-friendly, as it presumably consumes fewer cycles than an integer multiplication (that I am assuming the longest delay in a cycle). Anyway, we can somehow find out T.int using this algorithm, and if we know T.int, T.frac must be easy to find out as much as right-shifting y by T.int and then subtracting by 1. T is a simple concatenation of T.int and T.frac, and we finally get the answer of ln(y) by calculating T ln2 + γ.

Let’s write this in code. First, let’s see the slightly modified version of Sir Slick’s proposal.

I just added Line 35~36 to fit it into our usage. Other codes are Sir Slick’s one, but it seems like not that hard to understand the principle. Using this helper function, we can implement logarithm as follows.

  3.  Power

Once we know exp(x) and ln(y), it should be simple to calculate the power function, that is x^y = e^(y * ln(x)). We can further optimize the power function by combining the two functions and reducing some redundant operations, but I’ll skip it and left it as food for thought. (Actually, I’m tired right now :P)

Note that, as far as I know, there seems to be no workaround other than combining exponential and logarithm to find out the power function. If you find out, please let me know!

I’ve attached the example source code. Hope it helps someone, sometime, somewhere, or some anything :D.