#another one said they are genetically tested (with embark)

[beansnpeets]

After thinking about pomskies I got curious so googled breeders for funsies and YIKES. It's too bad. If anyone comes across any pomski breeders that DON'T have a dozen red flags on their website pls lmk.

[automaticgardenflower]

David Antares: Falling Up

PHOENIX LOG: 0900, 29 March, 2029

One year ago, astronomers confirmed the awakening of the devilish black hole at the center of our galaxy. In other words, it started feeding again. With an appetite nothing short of, “We’re dead, Fred.”

Since we reside out in the boonies of the Milky Way, we have a little time before doomsday. But not much because it doesn’t have to eat us to destroy us. The deadly disruption of the orbits of centrally located stars and solar systems will soon ripple out to encompass our own.

Futurists have proposed only three scenarios which allow for the possibility of human survival.

Scenario 1. We migrate to another galaxy by way of generational space travel. This generation embarking on space arks with our great great to the umpteenth power grandchildren arriving sometime in the far future at our neighboring galaxy, Andromeda. Plausible, but not for me. Never had kids. Don’t want any.

Scenario 2. Using advanced teleportation devices, much like the fictional transporters of Star Trek fame, we transport as many humans as we can to an Earthlike planet in the aforementioned galaxy. Pros—instantaneous arrival and survival for the “Me Now” generation. Cons—transporters have been in development for decades. A working model capable of operating at the scale we need and for the distance we need is, frankly, about as viable as figuring out cold fusion or creating a perpetual motion machine. In my opinion, not going to happen. However, my opinion is not the opinion of hundreds of companies who are suddenly funding transporter development projects. A fortune, astronomical in size, awaits the winner.

3. Last scenario. Our black hole goes back to sleep. Naturally, or we play Dr. Snooze.

Because of our past successes exploring the frontier of space, it was determined by the powers that be that space arks would be our best hope for survival. As I write this first log entry, intergalactic ships of various propulsion designs are being constructed around the globe.

Some branches of the military have opted for other strategies. Scenario 3, or whatever works, is mission goal for my baby, a top-secret scientific project known only as PHOENIX. Its method of reaching mission goal is currently roundabout, but rather ingenious. Genetic regeneration of some of the greatest minds in history.

Lt. Col. Julie Claymore, U.S. Army Genetics Research and Development Lab

LOG: 0600, 31 March, 2029 The following subject samples confirmed acquired. 1. A. Einstein. 2. N. Tesla. 3. N. Bohr. 4. B. Franklin. 5. I. Newton. 6. L. da Vinci. Samples 5 and 6 are simply amazing. I cannot confirm or deny rampant lab rumors suggesting black ops and Vatican relics.

J.C.

LOG: 0630, 16 August, 2029 Successful regeneration of four subjects! In life pods of my own design, they remain in suspended animation. Brain scans confirm abundant activity in their cerebral cortices. It is only speculation now as to whether or not they will be, when awakened, the intellectual giants they were in times past. If so, there is hope.

J.C.

LOG: 0715, 28 August, 2029 Tesla, da Vinci, and Newton are awake. And very curious. Einstein remains asleep. REM confirms dreaming.

J.C.

LOG: 0600, 31 August, 2029 Our three conscious luminaries all understand who they are, where they are, when they are, and why they are. Newton said, “We need to fall up.” A bit strange coming from Mr. Falling Apple. Of course, all are eager to help. And tests show our awake subjects have retained all of the knowledge acquired during their lifetimes. A bonus, but quite honestly, what I suspected all along. DNA, after all, is an information storage system. Who’s to say it is limited only to chemical and biological information. Consider instinct. Innate knowledge. Examples abound in the animal kingdom. The source of this knowledge must be deeper than memory. Beyond thought. The only viable suspect—DNA.

J.C.

LOG: 0500, 10 September, 2029 Virtual reality learning is bringing our trio up to date in science, technology, theoretical physics and world history. It may take Newton and da Vinci a bit longer than Tesla to catch up. Stubborn Einstein dreams on. Some of my colleagues have suggested pulling the plug on his life support. Their time, they say, could be better spent on Leo, Newton, and Tesla. I’m leaning their way, but something holds me back. Women’s intuition?

J.C.

LOG: 0920, 19 September, 2029 In all matters energy, Tesla, already ahead of his time during his time, is proving to be also ahead of our time. After a few crazy-looking additions to our emergency generators, he’s taken our facilities completely off grid. These dynamos were installed at the very beginning of the Cold War and he’s got them belching energy seemingly right out of thin air. Not a single drop of diesel inside them. It’s beyond amazing. And the man appears to be a dynamo himself. I swear, he donned a pair of glittering gloves this morning which looked as if they were made of aluminum foil. Sounded like it too, crackling as they did when he slipped them on. He then rubbed his hands together as if warming them and a ball of blue light appeared between them. Baseball sized and bright as the sun. He threw it sidearm into a bank of computers. Old IBM tabletops taken offline years ago. They came to life instantaneously, screens rolling with complex equations and undulating geometrical shapes in mortal battle for digital supremacy. Newton said, “Wowza,” a modern exclamation of amazement the old Englishman has taken a liking to. He sat himself down before one of the screens and took notes for several hours. Leo missed it all, having opted to seclude himself in a private room. “To catch up on the arts,” he said. From the man who painted the Mona Lisa, it seemed a logical pursuit, even an urgent need. He requested brushes, paints, and sheepskin canvases. As many as we could find. The sheepskin proved to be unavailable. We substituted stock canvases from the local Walmart. Leo said, “Whatever,” in Italian.

J.C.

LOG: 1300, 20 September 2029 I continue to work around the clock. Caffeine energized every few hours, or is it minutes, I find I can stay awake three days straight. By the fourth day, however, I drop dead, and remain so for about 24 hours. I have taken to “dying” quite regularly, zipped up in a sleeping bag next to the life pod of Mr. E=Mc^2. I am thinking of asking Tesla to conjure up a ball of psychic energy and hurl it sidearm through Einstein’s dreaming mind. And right into mine. So I can tap into his subconscious. I’m tripping. I need to sle

LOG: 1450, 21 September, 2029 After reviewing my log entry for yesterday, I have made 8 hours of sleep, daily, absolutely mandatory. For the duration of PHOENIX. This includes everyone from security to our subjects. Especially me. But if Mr. Rip van Winkle ever wakes up, he will be excluded from the new law and expected to pull as many all-nighters as it takes to catch up. What the heck is he dreaming about?!

J.C.

LOG: 1900, 21 September, 2029 Einstein woke up! Yea!!! After being freed from the physical restraints of the life pod, basically a clear dome top, Einstein sat up and his first question was, “Is this heaven?” I wanted to say, “No, you dummy, but we’re on our way to hell because you’ve been SNOOZING!” But I only said, “It’s a U.S. Army classified location, Mr. Einstein. And we need your help.” I know, I know, my guts could use a little backbone. Or my backbone could use some guts. As I’m thinking guts/backbone, Einstein says, “Your gut will save you.” Emphasis on GUT. Huh? So now I’m thinking Einstein must be psychic and a smart ass to boot. But I simply say, “Save me from what?” And without a hint of smartassness (is that even a word?), Einstein says, “The black hole.” So much for my worries about bringing him up to date. Then he says, “Can I go back to sleep?” What?! But he sounded as old as he looks and worn out, as if his few minutes of wakefulness had taxed his intellect to the point of exhaustion. Since time is relative and not a constant, which he proved long ago, I said, “Sure.” I can’t believe I said sure.

J.C.

LOG: 1625, 23 September 2029 When relating the conversation of two days previous to Newton and Tesla, they were amazed. Which is quite remarkable considering their IQs. “Wowza!” said Newton for about the zillionth time. “He means Grand Unified Theory. Or GUT for short. The single solution to all the forces of nature. Strong nuclear, weak nuclear, electromagnetic. And my own discovery, gravity.”

“He became obsessed with finding a GUT before he died,” said Tesla. “Or so history has noted. He must believe we’ve already found it. We must wake him, I think, and let him know we have not.”

“Not yet,” I said. “My gut says, ‘let him sleep.’ At least for now.”

At this point, Leo came out of his room. He carried a canvas toward us. When he got near, he flipped it over and we saw and literally felt his creation. Tesla ignited into a ball of blue light—all of him—sans foil of any kind. He hovered above the rest of us, in total awe of Leo’s masterpiece. Newton dropped to his knees and began chalking complex equations on the floor, sans chalk of any kind. How that worked, I haven’t a clue. And I, I, with all my military training, could not stop Leo’s painting from grabbing me by my G-spot and thrusting me into Ecstasy Central. Ravished mentally, physically, and spiritually, I let Tesla, Newton, and Leo worship in peace, and went to get my 8.

J.C.

LOG: 1725, 25 September, 2029 Brainstorming ruled the day. A dangerous thing considering. Tesla kept sparking amidst such focused thought. So they wrapped insulation around him and proceeded. From that point on, one muffled grunt from Tesla meant YES. Two meant NO. All agreed a GUT would solve everything. With a GUT we could put our chomping black hole back to sleep. Nighty night, Doomsday Machine. But all admitted a GUT was beyond them, and only Einstein had a shot at figuring it out. If only he would wake up.

Thinking about the principles of Newton’s reflecting telescope, Leo promoted the idea of creating a gravity mirror. With a gravity mirror big enough, he proposed, we could bounce our black hole’s gravity back at it. This would create within it a stuffed-to-the-gills feeling which would supposedly induce sleep. Like the ravished-to-the-gills feeling had done to me two days before. Sounded good. However, after realizing Leo’s plan operated on the assumption of a cognizant black hole with a mind we could fool, the rest agreed Leo’s idea didn’t hold any weight.

The mention of weight got Mr. Falling Apple going. He brought up something he learned recently about negative energy. “Proven to exist by experiment already,” he said, “negative energy is unlike dark energy, and the regular energy of the Tesla variety.” At this remark, Tesla stomped a foot, but since no sparks resulted, he was pretty much ignored. Newton continued and made a convincing argument for the existence of negative mass. “If E=Mc^2,” he said, “then it’s quite obvious that NE=NMc^2.” Sounds logical. And mathematically correct. Right? “And the cool thing about negative mass,” said Newton, cool being another modern word he has taken a liking to, “is that negative mass has to weigh less than nothing.” What?! Less than nothing. I said, “How does that work?”

With a finger pointing skyward, Newton said, “Falling up.”

J.C.

LOG: 0900, 15 October, 2029 By latest observation, astronomers estimate that roughly five percent of the core of our galaxy has slipped into oblivion. Sucked into the maw of our dark and hungry singularity. Natural disasters on Earth have increased tenfold. And this after the tenfold increase caused by climate change. The first of the space arks have departed. More are scheduled to leave in the middle of next month. Things are getting urgent and Einstein continues to sleep. Despite being subjected to bang-your-head rock music at 50 decibels above rocket launch. Saturn V. I’m not kidding. If he wasn’t deaf, he is now. Which is why I proceeded to punch, shove, kick, and slap him when no one was looking. On the cool, he looked rather bruised up before I got to him. I started thinking he must be dead, but no, REM confirms he’s still dreaming. Damn. Must be a good one.

J.C.

LOG: 1600, 18 October, 2029 Our three resurrected saviors have been in seclusion since their brainstorming session back in September. Come to find out they have constructed a working model of Leo’s painting. Underneath those titillating, mesmerizing bodies, faces, and groping hands lurked nothing less than a visionary schematic of a negative energy dynamo. Or so they said. NED for short. Tesla was let loose to tweak and modify the contraption as he sees fit. He informed me today it would be ready for a trial run in about a week. And primed for maximum output. Could NED be a viable alternative to the GUT? A Hail Mary fourth down pass connecting us all to salvation? We shall see.

J.C.

LOG: 1900, 25 October, 2029 The combo skylight-ventilation shaft directly above NED got suddenly bigger today. This occurred during NED’s trial run. A huge success by all accounts. We’ll, sort of. Negative energy was indeed produced. In voluminous amounts. Problem was, as NED churned out more and more of the stuff, NED transformed itself into a hunk of negative mass. From the inside out. Now, what is the main characteristic of negative mass? As Newton pointed out it weighs less than nothing. What we didn’t know, but learned by observation today, is that something which weighs less than nothing is immediately and violently repulsed by all things which weigh more than nothing. Ouch! With a velocity instantaneous and akin to warp 9, NED shot up, leaving a great big hole where our skylight used to be. Falling up turned out to be shooting up like a bat out of hell. NED, now, surely resided somewhere out in deep deep space. Exactly where we need to be.

J.C.

LOG: 2300, 1 November, 2029 Yesterday I had sex with Tesla. Two reasons. There’s no denying his touch is electrifying, and I started ovulating two days before. We did it in my sleeping bag on the floor next to Einstein. If Rip van Winkle heard, saw, or felt all the sextricity in the air, he didn’t let on. Maybe he thought it was happening in his dreams. Obviously, I’ve reconsidered my avoidance of motherhood. If I can get knocked up in time, I’m sure I’ve got enough favors owed me to get my kid on one of those space arks. It’s the only way to ensure survival of my DNA. So this morning, for backup, I took Leo by surprise in the showers. :)

J.C.

LOG: 1345, 4 December, 2029 I’m pregnant. Yessiree, missed my period. Always a telltale sign. So, whose is it? I guess if the kid comes out hurling lightning bolts, it’s a wrap.

J.C.

LOG: 2300, 31 December, 2029 Our black hole continues to eat. Planets. Moons. Stars. All I have to do is look at food and I barf. Tesla, Newton, and Leo busy themselves with GUT theories, wormholes, and time-gravity invisibility cloaks. They’ve developed working models of the latter two. At the subatomic level. Whether or not they can make the quantum leave to cosmic scale remains to be seen. But hope is alive.

You know who is still sleeping. Still dreaming. And I believe his condition has become contagious, for we’ve all been sleeping a lot lately. Falling up in our own dreams. Up up and away.

J.C.

THE END

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[ppaction]

Black Maternal Health Week: Why We Can’t Be Silent

One patient’s Black maternal health journey taught her that her personal experience was actually systemic.

This post is by Neatrice Holmes, a Planned Parenthood volunteer in Baltimore. We’re sharing it as part of Black Maternal Health Week — an initiative spearheaded by the Black Mamas Matter Alliance (BMMA) in which Planned Parenthood is joining patients, providers, and advocates across the country in lifting up the need for maternal health research that centers Black women.

Last June, I found out I was seven weeks pregnant. I'd always been told by doctors that I couldn’t have children, so this was completely unexpected. I was excited to embark on this new journey, and to raise a child with my partner. My first meeting with my obstetrician seemed normal and routine. We went through all the regular tests and I was told that my pregnancy was considered “high risk” because of my age. Though I had wanted a Black doctor, like my usual primary-care physician, I still left feeling confident that I was in good hands.

By the second appointment, everything had shifted.

Though my obstetrician was great, it was clear that other people in the hospital didn’t care. Suddenly my prenatal visits were rushed, tense, and demeaning. Despite being a pregnant patient over the age of 35, nurses weren’t taking my concerns seriously. Questions I had about aches and pains were dismissed. They didn’t treat me as a high-risk patient and I didn’t get the care I deserved.

When I went to get genetic testing, I was told there was an abnormality and if I had a baby, it might not live. It was only when I started asking questions and advocating for myself that the counselor admitted there was a margin of error and there were other, more precise tests we could do.

I was also subject to pre-judging. They automatically assumed I did not have insurance or used Medicaid, even though I have a full-time job as an insurance manager, working with patients with kidney disease, and have medical coverage through my employer. When I started wearing scrubs in an effort to be more comfortable, the assumption was that I didn’t have a college degree and worked in a hospital as an assistant. Of course, if any of those things were true, I would have still deserved competent medical care –– what stung was that they didn’t take the time to ask about my situation or experiences. They took one look at me and wrote my story themselves. That’s not how health care should work.

They didn’t take the time to ask about my situation or experiences. They took one look at me and wrote my story themselves. That’s not how health care should work.

Near the end of the first trimester, I was sent to another hospital for a fetal echocardiogram. My partner and I arrived anxious and excited to hear the heartbeat. We couldn’t have imagined what was to come.

As I took my clothes off, the doctor noticed a scar I have from a medical procedure and screeched, “what is THAT?” I’m very sensitive to touch and when I recoiled slightly as she was touching me, she coldly asked why I was flinching –– completely oblivious to the fact that every patient is different.

The ultrasound showed there was no heartbeat, and my heart sunk. There was no compassion in the doctor’s voice when she gave me the news and none when I frantically asked if they could check again.

My head spun as my partner started crying and my body had an immediate physical response to the trauma: I began vomiting on the table.

All the doctor said was, “Why are you throwing up? Are you sick?”

As I dragged myself to the bathroom, my doctor made no move to assist me, no move to console my partner.

The doctor called for three nurses and as they peered in on me in the bathroom – by now throwing up and dealing with diarrhea ––  all they said was, “what’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? What’s wrong?

The ultrasound showed there was no heartbeat, and my heart sunk. There was no compassion in the doctor’s voice when she gave me the news.

I had just found that the future I had imagined with my baby was over. My body was convulsing. My partner and I were being treated like we were worthless, without an ounce of compassion. And they were asking me what was wrong.

I was told I would need to have a dilation and curettage procedure, and sent home with medication to soften my cervix. I was told I’d experience some minor cramps that could expel some fetal tissue. They said to call the on-call nurse if I had any issues.

What they didn’t say was that there was a possibility I could have labor-like cramps that would cause me to expel nearly all the fetal tissue at home. At 3 a.m. the next morning, I began bleeding.

Completely unprepared, I woke my partner and made my way to the bathroom. I waited at first to call the on-call nurse, even as the pain of my cramps grew and grew. I had no idea that this wasn’t normal. I waited as long as I could, until the cramps became so acute that it felt like labor — until I had a miscarriage.

Distraught, I finally made the call but the nurse said to only come in if I couldn’t control the bleeding, adding: “… but it doesn’t sound like you need to come in.”

I felt like me and my child were thrown away –– and no one should have to feel like that.

I expected that I could have a service, to honor the life I had planned to bring into this world. But I never even got the option. When I brought the remains of my pregnancy in the next day, the hospital lost them during routine lab work. To this day, I don’t understand how that could happen but I was too depressed to push the issue.

I felt like me and my child were thrown away –– and no one should have to feel like that.

It wasn’t until I had this experience that I started learning more about Black women’s maternal health. I kept buying books and researching –– and learned that what I thought was a personal experience was actually systemic.

Black women are dying at a rapid rate, and even more are having traumatic maternal health experiences. In too many cases, racism and implicit bias are to blame. There’s a long history of medical mistreatment of Black people in this country, rooted in slavery. Doctors and nurses think we have a superpower for pain; they think we’re workhorses; they even used to experiment on us.

It’s hard to put into words just how I was treated. So much of it was in the little details that are felt so clearly but impossible to prove. I’m sharing my story because as horrifying as it is, I know that some women have even died from poor maternal health care. It’s crucial that we shine a light on this and hold health care providers accountable.

Black women and Black mothers deserve better. And we won’t be silent until we have the health care we deserve.

Neatrice Holmes is a storyteller from Baltimore, Maryland, where she volunteers with her local Planned Parenthood. Currently she is an insurance counselor, community healing advocate, community activist, Reiki practitioner, and LEAP (Listen, Empathize, Agree, Partner) trainer with the LEAP Institute. She was inspired to share her story and fight for reproductive health care when Senator Kamala Harris introduced a bill aimed at reducing racial disparities in maternal mortality among Black women.

[thebiblesalesman]

A Knowing Grin: Relationships in What You Left Behind, the New Overwatch Short Story

Baptiste & Mauga

Nguyen & Sainclair

Overwatch & Talon

The Middle East Scenario

Baptiste & Mauga

Baptiste and Mauga moved in tandem, with the practiced ease of soldiers used to fighting together. It had been years, but it came back quickly, as natural as breathing.

“I missed you, you know,” Mauga called over the roar of gunfire. He was enjoying every moment of the battle, relishing the adrenaline. Baptiste could feel that same rush in his veins, too. “All those years you were on the run, and we could have been doing this instead. Don’t tell me you didn’t miss it, too.”

Had he? More than he was willing to admit. He’d spent so many years running, and this felt right—not being part of Talon, but having a place where he belonged, with a dependable team at his back. That was what he’d found when he joined the Caribbean Coalition, and later with Mauga and their squad. Taking care of people centered him, made him feel whole.

Baptiste and Mauga are two people who exist on the same wavelength, uniquely capable of reading how each other are feeling. Their friendship does not require niceties because it is fundamentally about sensitivity. Baptiste was seeking a sense of belonging, and Mauga is the life raft he happened to cling to. Mauga is isolated even among killers for various reasons, but quickly discovered he could refuge all of himself in Baptiste- both his friendly, charismatic exterior, and his colder but more genuine thoughts. Baptiste sees straight through him, and that turns out to be something he appreciates.

Baptiste, along with Sombra and Mercy, is an orphan of war. Throughout his life he has sought a place to take shelter and find meaning in dependable people around him. You can actually compare him to Ashe, who retains her blood relatives and appears blissfully unaffected by the Crisis, but who did not receive the satisfaction of a well-connected family and ultimately invented her own. But unlike Ashe, Baptiste did not have a wealth of opportunities. Overwatch—an organization he dreamed about as a child—never even came to his home country of Haiti. In that organization’s absence, the islands of the Caribbean formed their own Coalition, and he took root there.

He proved an elite medic and prime special ops material. But all things end, the Crisis included, and his service. Baptiste was faced with the threat of no longer belonging, and sought an organization that could make use of his skills. Talon was “a well-paying mercenary group that took on security missions that were sanctioned by official organizations or corporations”. Once inducted, he made fast friends with another recruit, Mauga. Specifically, Mauga “pulled Baptiste into his orbit”, fulfilling that fundamental need in Baptiste to have someone to serve and care for.

“Watch your back,” he shouted instead, taking down a mercenary who’d been about to shoot Mauga.

“That’s your job!” Mauga laughed. His gun tore a path through the guards swarming the top of the staircase, and they ducked for cover. He was in his element, wild and unleashed. He’d been like this on their missions, a hurricane of a man.

With you at my back, we can do anything, he’d told Baptiste once. You’re the best medic in Talon. You keep me alive, and I’ll protect you. No one stands a chance.

Baptiste and the others in their Talon unit—Doubleday, Mazzei, and Pacanowsky —operated as troopers, the same as many other ex-military agents from around the world. Mauga took the role of Heavy Assault, described as follows in the Venice Memorandum: “Believed to be the products of extensive genetic engineering, these elite troopers employ an extremely powerful exoskeleton and stimulants to increase their combat effectiveness.” While violence is a path Mauga chose, it is worth keeping in mind that his brutality is further fueled by engineering, or drugs, or both.

For a time, Baptiste was content with Talon, even as his missions grew increasingly questionable. Four years ago, two years after Talon’s newest leadership figure was jailed by Overwatch, Baptiste realized that his “security missions” were perpetuating the cycle of suffering, that he was creating more Baptistes by his own hand. His closeness with Mauga proved a selfish thing, one of the many comforts Talon offered in exchange for his soul. He fled from the Monte Cristi battlefield, but Mauga proved as attuned to him as ever, and was the first to find him in his escape.

“Cuerva told us that those missions were on the level,” Baptiste said weakly. He’d known the truth, even then. But he hadn’t wanted to believe it. And from the look on Mauga’s face, he knew that, too.

“Of course he did. And of course they weren’t. But who cares? We’re in too deep, Baptiste.” For a moment, all his bravado dropped away. It was just the two of them, no audience, standing beside the water. When he spoke, it was quiet. “There are no good people. Not you, not me. All we can do is have fun while we’ve got the chance.”

And Mauga challenged Baptiste’s narrative of his life. He highlighted two other missions, Makati and Singapore, that had been just as heinous. According to Mauga, Baptiste knew it was wrong the whole time. It was just that in Monte Cristi he encountered something personal—saw a ghost—and that his flight from Talon was just another self-indulgent act. Mauga ultimately let Baptiste go, but he also did not go with him. Baptiste, likewise, never thought to offer that possibility to Mauga.

Unlike Baptiste, who grew up dreaming about a world that could be and an Overwatch that never came to save him, Mauga has made his judgement of the world and the people in it. It makes sense for him to have no interest in deserting: the entire world is as awful as Talon in his eyes, but Talon is where he has the most fun wading through it. But he retains a weakness for Baptiste, his own personal mind-reader, and ultimately he becomes one of the ghosts that Baptiste leaves behind.

Flash-forward four years and Baptiste is consumed by the nightmare of his choice, which has left him without a home or a family. He travels from place to place, trying to outrun the invitations Talon constantly sends after him. It’s not as simple as fearing for his life. Talon prefers his talent, not his blood. His old captain, Cuerva, describes the potential capture of him in the most idyllic sense:

If all goes well, everything will be settled and we’ll be on our way home by tonight. Hopefully Baptiste will be among us, playing cards and drinking rum, instead of lying in a shallow island grave. [Cuerva Strike Team Log]

The threat for Baptiste is playing cards and drinking rum with his fellow soldiers is something he would prefer to running and hiding too. But given it was the behavior of his squadmates and Cuerva that led him to flee Monte Cristi, he has no trouble dispatching all of them when they come to call.

It’s Mauga who becomes the problem. Mauga, his perfect foil, comes hunting Baptiste in Port-de-Paix, stalking out Baptiste’s habitual safety net, inserting himself in Baptiste’s old home—offering himself and Talon as a replacement. Mauga does not do this at the whimsy of some higher-up, but for his own attachment to Baptiste. He comes offering the horror of constant killing, and the chance to belong again.

Even the mission Mauga shuttles Baptiste into is tailored to play on his desire to find purpose in serving others. Mauga’s manipulations are expert, a send-up to the fact that he only plays the role of a brute, and that in truth he is sly and dangerous—unfortunately this too is a trait Baptiste likes about him. Theirs is a friendship compounded by years of fighting beside each other, and as Baptiste embarks on the Port-de-Paix mission, he finds himself coming back to Mauga’s style “as natural as breathing”.

The mission itself seems to be dancing to Mauga’s tune too. Baptiste finally meets a member of Overwatch, and he is man invested in causing suffering to his own city, a man who gave up his comrades for gold. Mauga uses this man to test Baptiste, to get him to break his final code: that he will not kill an unarmed combatant.

But for a second time, Baptiste and Mauga cannot find agreement. Thus when Mauga comes again after Baptiste’s escape, all he offers is death. Just as Baptiste was never able to completely relinquish the comforts of friendship to do what is right, Mauga refuses to relinquish the comfort of Talon for friendship. The two of them are divorced from the larger conflicts of Talon and Overwatch or omnics and humans except as collateral victims, and in Mauga’s case this has produced a demon who is smiling at you as he kills you.

Mauga stood in the full-length window, scanning the canopy of trees. All of the glass panes were blown out, shattered by the bullets from his massive guns. “Baptiste,” he called. “Buddy, I just want to talk.”

The story’s dramatic showpiece of Baptiste and Mauga’s connection sees Baptiste working Mauga out of a battle-lust using nothing but his voice. There are a couple important features to this scene: 1) that Baptiste only gets to Mauga to behave like a friendly human being for a moment, that Mauga smiles, then kills a helpless man anyway, 2) that from the very start Mauga understands Baptiste’s thoughts too.

Mauga spends a lot of his time smiling like he does to Baptiste in the scene, either acting a role, or confident he has worked out everything Baptiste will do. When Baptiste does not behave to his expectations, he goes straight to violence, as it’s the only other skill he has. Their relationship has all the hallmarks of being toxic, but What You Left Behind is seeking a degree of understanding, trying to explain why Baptiste would return to someone who is no good for him, and why he nearly recalls to a life of brutality despite being a “good person”. And in the end, almost the only distinction between Mauga the Berserker and Baptiste the Healer is that somewhere inside Baptiste a shred of hope remains.

Baptiste stood, and Mauga stood with him. “Whatever you’re worrying about, don’t. Get in, get it done, and get paid,” Mauga said, only loud enough for Baptiste to hear. He hefted his pair of machine guns, each as tall as a full-grown man, like they weighed nothing. The coolant tanks on his back gleamed in the scant light. He raised his voice, letting it carry across the dropship. “Now, who’s ready to have some fun?”

Nguyen & Sainclair

“You see what I’m up against, Baptiste? I got him a hat, but he won’t wear it.”

Nguyen looked at the panama hat on the bar top like it was the filthiest thing he’d ever seen. There was a pink sunburned stripe across his nose.

For your reference if you are unfamiliar with Nguyen’s name pronunciation:

At first Talon Senior Analyst Trung Le Nguyen exists to provide an example of a personality that is absolutely repellent to Baptiste, whereas Mauga is an inescapable attraction. Nguyen does not like Baptiste very much either, but there is one other lesson to take from this story: despite Baptiste’s inability to appreciate Nguyen as a person, they are able to work together without issue. Baptiste sees Nguyen as dependable, which makes sense given that Nguyen provided his unit with analysis through all their missions. Nguyen is also more flexible than he may seem, agreeing to meet with Baptiste at Mauga’s insistence despite his own reservations.

Mauga is not as vested in disliking Nguyen as Baptiste. In fact he constantly seems to be trying to rope Nguyen in as he does with most people, but it does not work with Nguyen because Nguyen is impervious to charisma. Despite Mauga and Nguyen not really getting each other like Mauga and Baptiste do, they are also content to work with each other. Mauga and Nguyen also happen to be the only named members of Baptiste’s old unit who are still alive.

We don’t enjoy as deep a look into Nguyen in this story as we do with Mauga, but let’s take a peek at some words and phrases used to describe him from Baptiste’s point of view:

clinical and cold

cold as frostbite

cool, expressionless eyes

[Nguyen’s] voice cut through the air like a knife. Mauga sighed. “Sweet as always.”

From anyone else, the gesture would be courteous. From Nguyen, it felt like a threat.

Nguyen is an easy read as a clinical workaholic, not inclined to emotion, making him a good foil to Mauga’s impulsive brutality. He notably wears the same adequately professional attire, impeccably laundered, day after day. His detachment from excess is strange in Talon, an organization where many of the day-to-day troops are getting their first taste of luxury and end up feasting on it.

But his professionalism cracks toward the end of the story, after he learns that their target Vernand Sainclair has betrayed and murdered Talon forces—the same kinds of grunts as Baptiste and Mauga—stationed at his mansion for his protection, and Vernand further tries to shoot Mauga after promising he is loyal (the bullets ricochet harmlessly off Mauga’s shield and break some windows).

Nguyen stalked forward, Mauga covering him with the shield. “You sent us into a trap. You murdered the forces we stationed here for your protection,” he snarled. Nguyen yanked the gun from Sainclair’s grasp and slammed it onto the desk. “I even set up an appointment. And yet you continue to inconvenience us. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your head right now.”

Unlike Mauga, Nguyen appears to display his emotions raw and honestly...it’s just that his most common emotion is disappointment, followed closely by irritation. His anger here probably comes from a variety of sources, but one of the strangest aspects of the story is that Nguyen is on the ground at all. He is an analyst, and despite his John Wick-caliber pistol work, it is not clear why he felt the need to personally handle Sainclair. Nguyen ran analysis for Baptiste’s unit and also for Cuerva’s attempted recovery mission, but it’s not apparent that he has any particular affection for Baptiste...or anyone really. When Baptiste attempts escape, Nguyen’s professional response rules over all others:

There was a gunshot, and pain tore through his left arm. He almost lost his grip on Sainclair. He didn’t have to look to know who had fired that shot, and that he was lucky to have survived.

It is unlikely that Nguyen is any sort of hero candidate at this point, but he is a well-realized accessory to the story and its themes. Everything in What You Left Behind comes in matched pairs—Mauga and Baptiste, Baptiste’s childhood friend Dr. Roseline Mondésir and Dr. Angela Ziegler, Nguyen and Sainclair. But whereas most of these pairs harmonize with each other, exuding similar personalities or goals, Nguyen flatly rejects his counterpart at every turn. Vernand Sainclair is a man of excess, an analyst like Nguyen, but he abhors field work, betrays casually to feed his own self-interest, and like so many members of Talon, he originally worked for Overwatch.

Overwatch & Talon

“You were Overwatch?” Baptiste said, stunned. He’d never met one before. All the dreams he’d had as a teenager, the recruitment poster he hung above his bed at the orphanage, the secret hope that somehow, someday, Overwatch would come in and make everything better. And now one of his childhood heroes stood before him, a man willing to throttle his country to turn a profit and betray his organization to spare his own life.

“I was never in the field. I was just a handler, like you.” Sainclair nodded at Nguyen. “Overwatch always took me for granted. That organization was poisoned from the very start, and the longer I was there, the more I could see that it was slowly rotting from the inside out.”

When the Retribution mission came out, people were quick to note the similarities between the elite Talon units and existing Overwatch agents. The Heavy Assault has a rocket-powered charge just like Reinhardt, the Assassin blinks from perch to perch like Tracer, the Sniper appears in a puff of wraithform smoke. Most fingers ended up pointing at Moira, whose hero profile states:

After Overwatch was disbanded, O'Deorain was forced to turn to unconventional sources of funding. This time, she was invited to join the scientific collective that had founded the city of Oasis. Yet some have whispered that the shadowy Talon organization had already been supporting her for years, aiding her experiments in exchange for utilizing the results for their own purposes. [Hero Profile: Moira]

But What You Left Behind tells us is that the fall of Overwatch and rise of Talon was inevitable, and not the fault of one single betrayer or leak. Towards the end of its life, Overwatch ceased to look like the promise on its recruiting posters—or if you prefer Sainclair’s outlook, Overwatch was never the same as the idea of Overwatch. This also goes back to Mauga’s philosophy: there are no good people anywhere, so even if something like Overwatch was founded with good intentions, the people inside it would eventually fail its honorable mission.

Blackwatch enjoys an especially close connection with Talon. We learn in the story that Talon HQ is in Rome, which is also where the Blackwatch facility was located until it was destroyed by a Talon bombing eight years ago. The Blackwatch Commander and his attending geneticist both became Talon council members, the top sniper in Talon is the widow of a Blackwatch agent, and as we previously saw in Train Hopper many Blackwatch grunts happily became Talon grunts.

But Overwatch also created Talon operatives whenever it failed to reach out enough, such as in Haiti. And Nguyen’s reflective examination of the Recall dossiers at the end of the story also suggests that some existing agents or some who have yet to officially respond may actually be traitors lying in wait.

The mirror of Overwatch and Talon is not as simple as saying “Actually Overwatch is really the evil one!!!111″ Talon is a bunch of terrorists and profiteers. In fact this story tells us that Talon has the exact same issue Overwatch did: it has leaders like Doomfist invested in powerful ideals and visions of the world, but the rank-and-file like Baptiste and Mauga end up engaging in the same petty ravaging that armies have since the beginning of time. The Council is never sharing their entire hand with the grunts either, trusting that their lofty ideals will be accomplished on the backs of handsome mercenary payments.

At this point maybe it’s easy to throw up our hands and say “okay, everything is bad, so why care about any of it?” That’s the exact conclusion Mauga reached. But Baptiste thinks differently. After forcibly escaping Mauga’s clutches at the end of the story, he reviews the Overwatch dossiers and recognizes Dr. Angela Ziegler. They met in their travels because of one shared idea: that they wanted to help communities in need, without violence. Baptiste goes on to recognize how Mercy is very like the local clinic doctor in Port-de-Paix, and very unlike her glossy image on the Overwatch recruitment posters. It is because of his personal connection and personally witnessed strength that he reaches out to her, and not because of an ideal or a formless dream.

I think what the story is trying to get at here is that any organization, regardless of name or mission, is only as good as the people in it. There isn’t good and evil, Overwatch and Talon—there are individuals, and all of them have relationships just as complicated as the one between Baptiste and Mauga.

The Middle East Scenario

Baptiste tapped the glowing dot marking her last known position on the map. He’d thought that Overwatch was dead, but maybe it wasn’t. If Talon was coming for Dr. Ziegler, then she had a right to know. He’d need help tracking her down, but luckily, he knew just who to ask.

Baptiste opened an encrypted app on his phone, entered the password, and hit the call button on the bottom of the screen. It only rang twice before a familiar voice came through the speaker. “Hey, mijo. It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Sombra,” he said, looking at Dr. Ziegler’s profile. “Can you do me a favor?”

Time to gossip about god programs again, yippee!!!

A couple things about this section: 1) It’s going to be more speculative than the others by necessity, so feel free to ignore it!, 2) Ultimately I don’t know what the plot is here...just admitting that up front. I do make a guess though!

So recent Overwatch media has a pattern of introducing a tease at the end. The Blizzardworld map trailer showed Winston, Tracer, Bastion, and Torbjörn chilling in a living room at the end. Reunion ended with Echo. Storm Rising ended by introducing some omnic no one has ever seen before. And What You Left Behind ends by introducing Baptiste’s friendship with Sombra and indicating that he is shipping off to find Mercy with her help. Some of these teases contribute to what I am going to call the “Middle East Scenario”, where a lot of plot threads seem to be orbiting around the Middle East and Mercy, with the potential for converging.

First let’s look at what individuals are actively pursuing Mercy:

Ana & Soldier 76 - Soldier has a documented aversion to Mercy in Bastet, but in the follow-up animation Bastet Rises, Ana ends up hauling his useless carcass all the way to Mercy’s doorstep. Bastet tells us that Ana for some reason knows where Mercy is, and Soldier’s wounds in Bastet (from an attack by Reaper in Old Soldiers—still with me?) are not healing correctly, necessitating a slightly more advanced medical approach than Ana’s field stitching. I guess you could argue the canonicity of Bastet Rises, but it was commissioned by Blizzard and I’m pretty sure that Genjicat in the final shot is the only wink-wink.

Baptiste - Of course What You Left Behind ends with Baptiste seeking Mercy out to warn her of Talon’s interest in her and the other former agents. He’s checking for a physical location, so he probably intends to meet her in person. The only complication here is timing: Baptiste’s story takes place three days after the Recall, the events of Bastet take place around the same time as Reflections (where you can see Ana and Soldier moping together at Christmas), so whatever Baptiste is doing he’s either taking a really scenic route to Mercy or he actually meets her separately from Ana and Soldier meeting her. Reflections also shows us that Mercy is still chilling in a tent somewhere, so if anybody has met with her they have yet to disrupt her post-Overwatch routine of traveling from one humanitarian mission to another.

Reaper - In a general sense Reaper operates as Talon’s executioner and would be seeking Mercy for that reason. Baptiste seems to think Talon is a very present threat at the end of the story, though he may not know Reaper personally. There is a second reason Reaper may show up at Mercy’s house, which is his pursuit of Ana and Soldier. Soldier specifically worries about staying in one place too long because of Reaper in Bastet.

Sombra - Likely to be in touch with the good doctor, at least virtually, due to Baptiste calling in a favor. Baptiste and Sombra met while they were both working at Talon, per the Developer Q&A.

Next we should consider what other forces are operating regionally or who otherwise might get pulled into Mercy’s orbit:

Pharah & Helix Security - From Bastet we know Ana has written a letter to Pharah, but Pharah has yet to respond. Soldier speculates that Ana will request Pharah to manage some artifacts at the Necropolis, and encourages her to contact Pharah again. If Pharah does seek out Ana, the trail will inevitably lead her to Mercy. Helix Security, the private military Pharah works for, is also active in the post-Recall timeline. The Anubis god program broke out of a Helix facility, and so did Doomfist, quite effortlessly. Despite this there is nothing currently indicating Helix is a Talon puppet. Talon has an interest in their properties but has been unable to access them freely. Reaper notes that Helix is unaware of the true value of what they are guarding. It’s hard to imagine Helix being unaware of the importance of keeping Doomfist imprisoned, which along with Sombra’s involvement suggests Talon’s interest is in a software asset—Anubis, or something like it.

Helix Security should have upgraded the Anubis facility after we took it over a few years back. And now the worst has happened—or it’s about to. The Anubis A.I.—one of the “god programs” Overwatch quarantined after the Omnic Crisis—broke its containment at 2300 hours.  

Anubis - Pharah and her team destroyed Anubis in Mission Statement. Ten years before that, Overwatch quarantined Anubis for the first time. Overwatch’s intervention led Egypt into a state of famine and ruin, which suggests very strongly that Anubis was originally some sort of post-Crisis A.I. infrastructure initiative. In fact the first panel of Old Soldiers shows some graffiti on a wall that reads “A.I. is our right”. It seems that whatever Overwatch did, they not only goofed it up hard, but that their intervention was not necessarily desired in the first place. A further incident occurs in Cairo three years after Overwatch’s Anubis intervention, while the humanitarian crisis is in full swing, but no details are given—it’s a background headline in the Uprising comic. By the time Mission Statement comes to pass, the Anubis A.I. was badly malfunctioning and its containment facility lacked the necessary security upgrades to handle it (remember Reaper’s comment about Helix not knowing what they are guarding...). We don’t know what Anubis was like when Overwatch originally intervened in its operation, but we do know that the humanitarian crisis sparked by that intervention was of special concern to both Mercy and Ana. Even with all this information, I feel like there is a catalyst missing. After all, Anubis is dead, and Talon has not been successful in getting whatever it is they want out of Helix Security’s protection. But Storm Rising may have offered the missing piece...

We learn that Doomfist is in collusion with whoever that mysterious omnic gentleman was. […] No, he’s not a part of Talon. […] Even though we’re in the past here, we’re learning about something that’s coming up, that’s unfolding… We know there’s going to be a minor detour because Doomfist has to spend a few years in jail because he’s going to get captured shortly after this. But then, the plan will unfold. [Jeff Kaplan]

Storm Rising Mystery Omnic - There are multiple reasons to believe this omnic is a member of Null Sector, but the remaining weirdness to his appearance is that he meets Doomfist in Egypt. Why would either Null Sector or Doomfist be in Egypt? The only clue we have is Jeff’s comment, that the two of them had a plan to execute six years ago, but it got put on hold after Doomfist was jailed. The possibility exists that this plan requires access to a powerful infrastructure A.I. like Anubis, and what we see in Old Soldiers is that Talon is trying to get access to property guarded by Helix Security... It would be interesting if Overwatch’s apparent mistake in Egypt came back to haunt them ten years later. There’s a lot of ghosts in this game.

Moira & Oasis - A lot of these orbiting issues are centralized in Egypt, but Mercy’s position on the map in Recall is closer to Iraq. We know she isn’t precisely in Oasis because Oasis is hardly the site of a humanitarian crisis, but it’s not unfathomable that she would know people working there. That includes the Minister of Genetics, Moira, who is also on the Talon council, and who also gets regular visits from Reaper to further treat his condition. If, say, Soldier 76 showed up on Mercy’s doorstep with a stubborn wound caused by Reaper, the temptation might be there to reach out to Moira to help treat him. One of the weirdest unresolved plot threads in Overwatch is also potentially connected to Oasis—Dr. Hamid Faisal, whose excavations at Petra and Ayutthaya make use of Oasis-style drones. Faisal works for an unknown benefactor, and also has work at Ilios, a site from which Talon has been attempting to steal artifacts. As revealed in Bastet, Ana also knows Faisal and has a favorable opinion of his work.  

Genji - Genji, you say? Well at the time of Reflections we know Genji is aware of Mercy’s location since he is writing her a physical letter that presumably is addressed and mailed and not just delivered by a dragon Fed-Ex. He and Zenyatta appear to be chilling in Nepal (geddit), but there is nothing saying Genji isn’t going to walk over for a visit sometime. Wouldn’t it be just fun if he happened to arrive at the same time as all this other stuff was going down? Zenyatta could come too and enter directly into the middle of this big vengeful Old Soldiers plot and save some lives! What? No? Okay, back to my corner then.

In speculative conclusion: another animated short ala Infiltration, introducing a new hero (MO?) while simultaneously advancing the plot? There are a lot of moving pieces here though, and a lot of characters to render in an 8-10 min runtime. Bear in mind that Mission Statement was originally supposed to be an animated short and was cancelled for similar reasons. So there might be some additional media interventions building up to some showpiece cinematic.

But know that I will always consume and digest to a paste more short stories and comics Blizz, you can count on me!

References

What You Left Behind [short story]

Cuerva Strike Team - Log Recovered [blog post]

Venice Memorandum Declassification [blog post]

Baptiste Developer Q&A [forums discussion]

Baptiste [hero profile]

Baptiste [origin story]

Mercy [hero profile]

Moira [hero profile]

Sombra [hero profile]

Storm Rising [voicelines/cinematics]

Storm Rising [Creator Residency stream] (Jeff Kaplan/OhNickel/Fareeha -  2019.4.16)

Bastet [short story]

Bastet Rises [animation] (by Dillongoo, commissioned by Blizzard Entertainment)

Train Hopper [comic]

Mission Statement [comic]

Old Soldiers [comic]

Reflections [comic]

Masquerade [comic]

Uprising [comic]

Retribution [comic]

Recall [cinematic]

[caninetroverts]

Today I am doing a review for one of the coolest products I’ve reviewed! Since it’s the Holiday season I want to start off by saying this Dog DNA Test kit from Embark Vet would be the coolest gift idea for a dog lover! Right now you can get $70 off Embark’s Breed + Health Kit (Now just $129) for Cyber Monday. No code needed, ends December 2! Get it HERE!  #embarkwithus

About Embark’s breed + health kit:

Embark tests over 250 breeds, types, and varieties. Their tests are the most accurate dog DNA test on the market! Embark’s test are more than twice precise as other tests on the market. Other tests out there can only detect breed contributions of 12% or more. Where as Embark’s tests can detect small breed contributions down to 5%! So for example if we used another brand I would have only known Labrador Retriever, Collie, and maybe Alaskan Malamute because it’s almost 12%. Embark also does a health test. With this they test for 170+ conditions, which is more then any other test out there! They will also tell you traits about your dog! So if your’re testing a puppy you will know how big they will get, how much they will shed, ect. This test also includes your dogs ancestry to their great grandparents.

How it works:

Once you receive your kit you simply swab your dogs cheek pouch for 30-60 seconds. You want to make sure the swab sponge is saturated with saliva. I had my boyfriend hold out a treat so Kayden salivated more. Also make sure your dog hasn’t ate anything 30 minutes before doing the swab! You then just follow the rest of the directions with your kit, which is super easy to follow. Activate your kit on Embarks site before sending the swab back to them! Once they receive the swab the turn around time is 2-4 weeks. I receive our results in 2 weeks!

My experience with the breed + health kit:

Everything with this kit was super easy to follow. It explained everything you need to do, activating your kit is easy as well. Once they received the swab I got  email and text updates, which I really liked! I’m very impressed with the information I found out about Kayden with doing this test. Honestly I wish I would have done it sooner! I learned that Kayden isn’t at risk for any of the genetic health conditions they test for. I also learn he is a carrier for one genetic condition. The results are very informative, Kayden is a carrier for Degenerative Myelopathy. If your dog is at risk or a carrier for a genetic condition it will explain exactly what it is! We got our breed results a day after our health results. I will say I was so shocked with his results! I would have never guess collie, Alaskan malamute, or the setter! It is so cool to now know what Kayden is actually mixed with! The supermutt means some dogs descend from other dogs that were themselves mixed breed. These other dogs can give small contributions to the ancestry of your dog, so small that they are no longer recognizable as any one particular breed. For Kayden the supermutt said likely breeds were Collie (Scottish-type) and Golden Retriever. I really love how in depth this test is, the amount of information you get is awesome! I got to see Kayden family tree, learn traits about him, and see his relatives. I highly recommend getting this DNA kit for your dog! If you are interested in buying a kit you can HERE! Check out more from Embark on their Instagram, and Facebook!

I received this kit free of charge in exchange for my honest review. #ad #sponsored  

[andromeda1023]

(This was another article I read on the subject of Mark and Scott Kelly’s study.  This was the longest, but the most interesting! Follow the link to continue to the article.)

Are Humans Fit for Space? A ‘Herculean’ Study Says Maybe Not

Here’s how you test your intracranial pressure in space. First, you collect baseline samples of your blood, saliva, and urine, and take ultrasound images of the vessels in your heart, neck, head, and eyes, lining up the scanning device on black dots tattooed on your body before you left Earth.

Then, you clamber into the Chibis, Russian for “lapwing,” a pair of hard, corrugated-rubber pants whose waist can be sealed. The pants suck: A vacuum imitates how gravity on Earth pulls blood, mucus, the water in cells, and cerebral and lymphatic fluids from our skulls to the bottom half of the body.

In space, fluids won’t drain, and astronauts develop red, puffy faces and complain of congestion or pressure in their ears. There are worse effects, too: 40 percent of the astronauts who lived on the International Space Station suffered some sort of damage to their eyes, including optic disc edema, globe flattening, and folds in the choroid, the blood-filled layer between the retina and the white sclera. NASA posits intracranial pressure is a possible explanation for what it calls “spaceflight-associated neuro-ocular syndrome,” and devised the test to measure fluid shifts to astronauts’ heads and eyes.

Wearing the lapwing is a mildly anxiety-inducing procedure. Once, a Russian cosmonaut lost consciousness when his heart rate dropped. His crewmates thought he was having a heart attack. Another time, the cosmonaut working the controls decreased the pressure too much—ratcheting up the sucking—and the astronaut felt “like I could have my intestines pulled out in the most unpleasant way possible.”

But if nothing goes wrong, you hang out in the suit for a few hours, taking more ultrasound images. You check your blood pressure. You measure cochlear fluid with an instrument in your ear and record intraocular pressure by tapping a pressure sensor against your anesthetized eyeball. You scan your eyeball with a laser to visualize choroidal folds and optic nerve swelling.

The “Fluids Shifts” experiment was performed by astronaut Scott Kelly when he lived on the ISS from March 27, 2015, to March 1, 2016, the longest spaceflight by an American. At the same time, his twin brother Mark, also an astronaut, tested his intracranial pressure back on Earth.

Over 25 months, the brothers submitted to a parallel routine of cognitive and physical tests—including a spinal tap for Scott—in the lab before, during, and after the mission. In all, 317 samples of stool, urine, and blood from both twins were collected and analyzed for their epigenomic, metabolomic, transcriptomic, proteomic, and microbiome changes. All of this was a first for NASA, which had never conducted a complete multi-omics analysis of an astronaut, let alone of an astronaut and a monozygotic control.

The idea behind the study had a simple logic: Because the twins share the same genome, any changes that occurred to Scott and not to Mark would likely be caused by long-duration spaceflight. The results, whose findings were finally published in Science today, expand our understanding of what happens to the human body after a year in space.

“The NASA Twins Study: A Multidimensional Analysis of a Year-Long Human Spaceflight” is a triumph of cross-disciplinary science. Described as “a Herculean endeavor” by one of the article’s peer reviewers, it integrates the work of 10 different groups at universities around the country and 82 separate authors.

Francine Garnett-Bakelman, the article’s lead author and a molecular biologist at the University of Virginia, said it was the “most comprehensive result possible based on the data available.” But to the essential question “Are humans fit for space?” the study provides only unsettling and incomplete answers. Long-term exposure to spaceflight is dangerous; based on what we know now, a journey to Mars is still too risky to contemplate.

More than 500 people have flown in space, and some of the bodily changes they experienced during missions lasting less than a month or as long as six months are well understood. Fluids shift to astronauts’ heads; the left side of their hearts grow. Unless they exercise vigorously, they lose muscle and bone.

But only four individuals have lived in space for a year or more, and the physiological effects of long-duration spaceflight are unknown. A human mission to Mars could last as long as three years, and in the laconic tones of the twins study, “genetic, immune system, and metabolic functions are of particular concern given exposure to space radiations, restricted diets … disrupted circadian rhythms, and weightlessness.”

The US government has proposed Americans return to the Moon by 2024. Mars is next, during a “low-energy launch window“ in 2033, when the Red Planet’s eccentric orbit brings it closest to Earth. If we hope to embark on what NASA calls “exploration-class missions,” we must know more.

Article by Jason Pontin/Wired

Continue to the article:  https://www.wired.com/story/are-humans-fit-for-space-a-herculean-study-says-maybe-not/

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[the-uptake]

Something-Something Full Empty

The Uptake, The world was beginning to fluoresce into wounds. Book 2, Chapter 3. Go to previous. I never said ‘Choly was a rational creature. TWs: Poisoning, attempted lust suicide, symphorophilia minutiae, hard emeto, joint trauma.

_________________________________

Leaving Cecil to sleep, 'Choly rolled off the mattress into the floor, and stood again. With damp hair, he walked on his knees over to the microwave perched on a cardboard box. From one of the food boxes in the floor, he pulled a food-meal bar. In his horridly over-loved armchair, he peeled down the wrapper and ate quietly, washing down the pebbly, vaguely flavored junk with the rest of his room temperature vodka coffee from earlier. His face soured. Neither the bar nor the coffee revolted him individually--but those of more frail constitutions should not consume them together. But, he persisted toward polishing off the easy-access, high-protein substance that would help soak up a bit of his encroaching hangover without waking his boyfriend.

While he snacked with the reader in his lap, legs up with his feet up in the seat with him, he continued browsing for more Wolfrin information. He’d most likely find Wolfrin in the Quarter somewhere on Level 1, since Levels 2 and 3 saw less chemical dumping and more solids. And he could most likely slip past EPA’s barricades near where the buildings functioned as support columns for the downtown off ramp from the Bayonne Bridge.

A morsel fell off the bar down his tank top, and he fished it out and ate it absently.

Drafting a mental laundry list trapped him in a loop of thought for a spell. No matter how much either of them wished it, ‘Choly genuinely had almost zero experience with chasing verbot--or truffling, for that matter--and this whole thing smacked of ridiculous parody. He tossed the bar wrapper in the waste bin under the TV tray. It had crushed him in a very real way that night, to finally admit his financial infirmities to Cecil, and despite Cecil’s supportive response to the confession, in this forming illicit act existed an opportunity to prove that 'Choly deserved his admiration.

His peculiar spontaneity had attracted Cecil, hadn’t it? The dreg glanced down at the fresh tattoo on his right forearm, a simple clean monochrome style, a triangular sigil divided by an inverted ray of swords. He took another drink, and sighed. Ink excited his boyfriend, an indicative tongue of rebellious fire which imparted its language upon the skin. He’d gotten the design at encountering Cecil’s enthusiasm (the librarian himself porting two intricate tattoo sleeves), and had come close to touching up his dye job. It felt so... fake, as though he couldn’t trust his identity to hold up to scrutiny should it meet any. He’d lived his life surrounded by verbot, but he wasn’t really a chaser.

But he could chase. Couldn’t he? Certainly a sorter could wander off the cadre floor in pursuit of the black market lifelines that pulsed out from it. That’s how he found the hard drive in the first place, after all. Sorter 101: test all data technologies for improper disc wipes. But, to step out of the cadre and into the yards... That was another creature entirely.

He checked his messaging service one more time for Revenant. When he still found his friend offline, he hovered over the username to see he’d last logged in thirteen days ago. Rev usually stayed logged on, bare minimum away or idle, and ‘Choly took notice just how long it had been since his friend had last logged on. He reassured himself with the affirmation that if Rev couldn’t be raised to join in the fun, that he’d just have to play catch-up later. But...

You’d never really do that.

‘Choly shifted to slouch to one side in the chair, then immediately to the other. He bit at his centred labret ring. The thing is, he would really do that. Abandon help him, should he ever locate any of the Geek’s... elephant’s feet he described in coitus not an hour before. In the past, only the barrier of reality and proximity had ever stopped him from acting on any of these impulses. Substances which could transfigure someone beyond the human condition simply had not existed, and now they existed, and they existed in his city. A twisting radiochemical kismet had manifested a new and unexplored realm of potential metagenesis, and he couldn’t deny her.

There was a chance he could, in the attempt to mod the system, brick it. But, the risks that came with unprecedented payout only heightened the appeal. Everything about the attempt, he calculated beforehand, arcane and obscene in its own right. Every article, every action, held in it a certain power over him. In that moment of machination, the fantasy-becoming-reality seized him to his core.

He outright lacked compunction for any real safety in the endeavor--only ritual and circumstance had a home in him tonight. The only industrial gear he owned was his BLT, likely his most expensive belonging. Inlaid with backlighting and translucent digital display, the curved clear acrylic full-face visor-tech provided its wearer a customized vision aid and variably hands-free Web access. Sorters predominantly had them for jotting invoice notes, and some models even had edges outfitted with inline respirator film which could filter e-waste dust particulate. His visor and cutout work gloves would suffice to brave the hazardous waste quarantine. Not that any of that mattered once he got to the prize.

A subtle rummage through the pile of clothing beside the bed netted him a black t-shirt, his hybrid denim skinnies, and a pair of socks. Donning the change of clothes, he swallowed his nerves, then slicked down his bangtails to either side of his face and put on his BLT halo over them and pulled down the glass. Cecil had not yet stirred a bit, and as the pale chartreuse visor calibrated to his prescription, ‘Choly smiled to himself in a distant ache that crawled into anticipation.

With the visor running, he could then strap on his black work boots and confirm the contents of his clear sidebag: his glasses, in the off chance the visor acted up, and chapstick, wallet of cardkeys and cred, and his reader. A variety of smuggling vessels had graced his fantasies, but carried off-site in a see-through bag, no success seemed so viable as with his tippling cane. He shivered as he put on his slim knee-length coat just thinking about following through with it, and grabbing his cane from the umbrella stand, slipped out of the apartment unnoticed.

Not many buses ran this late at night going down from Level 5, and he appreciated the bone conduction nodes in the halo of his BLT to burn the good next half hour waiting at the bus stop with music. Favoring the organic shoegaze loaded in his reader with cubes, he resisted the compulsion to stream music to save bandwidth. Once his ride arrived, the lonely transit passed quickly with no stops along the way, and he continued scheming and re-scheming the exact minutiae of his task uninterrupted.

He got off on Level 3. After a certain hour, the free public lifts charged a third-cred per level, and he happily resigned to waving his toll pass upon entry to the empty lift to fork over the full cred it would cost. Upon stepping foot off the lift at Level 1, he turned off his music and focused fully on his errand.

The residential sector of the Quarter came alive at sunset with the typical ambient discord of various yelling. It struck an unusual chord in the stalker, to descend to ground level by lift to find the stalking yards themselves so eerily silent, accompanied only by the sound of his limp gait. Bustling traffic aped distantly above him against the solipsistic dimensions of the area. Passing by some blocks, he heard the occasional dripping, or the echo of vehicles in reverse. Subconsciously, he knew the latter meant more waste dumping belied the quarantine, for its inhabitants to discover come morning.

‘Choly savored entering a space the federal officials had declared unsafe, and that his low-grade BLT filtration would likely only do so much. No accounting for air quality in a place like this, after all. Stalkers had reasons they didn’t even eat in their own homes, and only dined in the commercial district abutting it. Yet, federal bullying had instated this quarantine, this exclusion zone. The stalkers hadn’t asked for this. They’d never asked for any of this. Even just a year ago, he’d have met no resistance venturing where he did now; but tonight, he remained vigilant for EPA employees who might try to stop him.

First, the government had to deny him the right to grafting by banning the splicing drug Vekarix before medicine had advanced far enough to permit more than just mammal, marsupial, and reptile compatibility. Bullshit insect politics. He still sometimes regretted trying to be patient, now that he couldn’t even settle on something lesser. But now, with the Wolfrin, the government sought to deny him the right to knot up his genetics like some kind of saccharine, fractal klein bottle. They were his genes, and he wouldn’t have it to let them tell him what he could and couldn’t do with them.

The dreg did his best to skirt a different path, anytime he noticed generator spotlights or vehicles that stood out as non-native. At a dead end just Southwest of the residential area fashioned from abandoned factory buildings, he glanced out over the waterfront reflecting the lights of higher levels, and steeled himself. The loose quarantine of all three lowest Levels started at 87th Street and extended just past 99th down through the foundations of the Bayonne Bridge, from the shores of Newark Bay to the West all the way East to Route 440. Almost the entire Quarter, but not quite. He embarked across the street, and with buildings only to one side, not even the sound of his cane accompanied him, replaced by the waterfront current. A yard cordoned off with caution tape greeted him. Unlike the typical chemical dumping yard, rather than scattered unceremoniously, hundreds of drums had been arranged neatly, as though sorted by contents. Two figures in white hazmat suits guarded the locked fence, so he wandered the perimeter until he found a point at which the rust of fluctuating water levels had peeled the chain-link wires from the support pipe. He could not feasibly scale the fence, so through the narrow gap in it he went.

He had a lot of reasons to avoid truffling.

Only limited but effective use of generator spotlights illuminated this particular yard, set on key haystacks of drums. He looked side to side in awe. A combination of water and a saturation of leaking chemicals thickened the damp soil, which possessed an ungodly industrial stench that cut through even the BLT filters and thrilled ‘Choly wild. The elements had rusted off the labels of many of the drums, their contents now unknown without cracking them open. These contents, for many of them, had trickled from cracks and crusted upon their exteriors. He licked his lips eagerly with a knitted brow, at the thought of the technicolor landscape this must have been by broad daylight.

Distracted by near-synesthesia, his cane sank in too deep in the slurried soil and compromised his footing. He stumbled and planted face-first in the noxious mud, and his cane resounded against a drum. The two on-duty EPA workers immediately approached to investigate the potential for an intruder, and he panicked at hearing the gates open. The muck smearing his visor blinded him, and though he grappled for his cane and kicked at the mud in vain, attempts to stand only successfully doused himself further in noxious muck. Tears streaking hot, he planted a filthy gloved palm flush to his mouth under his BLT at the awareness he’d hyperextended his knee in the fall. Adrenaline propelled him to a hiding place in the middle of an arrangement of drums. A stink that reminded of battery acid enveloped him. Deer-eyed, he raked mud from his visor and crouched in a mixture of agony and intensity, and watched as the beams of two flashlights cased the area. One guard ultimately informed the other that the sound must have been a drum giving into chemical pressure, and that they’d investigate more thoroughly once they had the daylight, and then they returned to their post outside the gate.

Once alone again, ‘Choly tried to stand back up, this time forced to rely on his cane with a fully bad-off leg. He unzipped his coat a bit and took a mouthful of fabric between his teeth from the shoulder of his shirt, and bore down hard on the leg to reset it. Stifling a scream into a viscous nasal sputter, he ended up biting through the garment. He only consciously ignored the taste of mud, shock-induced drooling joining the mess of substances splattered and smeared on him. Vacuously he wiped his mouth with the back of his glove, and continued onward.

He stopped at one cordoned off haystack of drums, eyeing how the leakage glowed a furious antifreeze green in the moonlight. Though the precise and biting stench of rotten flowers, he couldn’t pinpoint the metallic odor. He stood there for some time in slack disbelief how easily he had arrived here. Surely this substance had caused all the media chaos. Trembling, he held up the tape with his cane and skimmed the faces of the drums for what little details remained. He squinted at faded white ink on glossy black surfaces. 1,4-dimethyl-2,3-fluoro-dieldrin. Before tonight, he’d known it only by a handful of trade names. Drinaflux. Wolfrin. Fluxeldrin. Though it did not appear notably caustic, the drums leaked from bluish iridescent crystalline scabs. He couldn’t read the warning diamond save the 4 on the blue health field.

He whet his lips and in both hands gripped the lever-locked ring poorly securing the lid to the open-head drum. He nearly doubled over it, enraptured by proximity, and licked at his teeth with a sneering, ragged breath. He hinged up his visor in favor of leaving as little between him and the experience of the prize, and he wafted readily of the nauseous and overwhelmingly metallic bouquet of the corrosion-halo. The stuff pooled around his uneven footprints from other adjacent drums. He frowned to unstick himself from the soft shoreline sediment so he could begin his work with surer footing.

‘Choly unscrewed the handle of his cane and tucked it in one coat side pocket, then carefully shook out all four glass vials it could carry and deposited them in the opposite pocket. He did not think to bring mechanical tools with him, and no amount of prying dislodged the lever of the corroded lid-ring. The attempt did, however, coax a crack to leak more readily, and he hurriedly unscrewed a vial to catch the liquid serendipity as it dripped out. Once filled, he slid the resealed vial into the cane, then followed with another.

Caught up in the delirium of success and fumes, he lost reality long enough not to recognize the workers approached on another perimeter scouting. Frantic at the wet smack of their heavy footsteps, he cried in desperation that the chemical wouldn’t pour any faster. He couldn’t leave without a full empty--he couldn’t. The two guards grabbed him and dragged him back as he shakily reaffixed the handle of his cane.

“You punk! Abandon you doin’ in here?”

“I--”

“This place’s giftwrapped with yellow tape for a reason, kid.”

“I-- I’m not--” He modulated his breathing. “I had t’see for myself the slag’s goin’ on. That’s the stuff, yeah? That’s what’s makin’ everybody sick as sin.” He tried to wag a finger at the haystack, but met silence as each guard hooked one of his arms in one of theirs, insisting his exit. “Hh-- hey! Answer me!”

The two workers tossed him out into the street. His cane clattered to the pavement and his bag crunched beneath him. He curled into himself after impact, and stared at his cane as dead-still as he could from where he lay coddling his knee and seething through his teeth.

“Abandon’s wrong with that kid.” The two of them returned inside the fence and locked it. “Obviously got health problems. The cane and all. Still climbing all over a yard like this. In the dark.”

“That’s a Stalker for you, man.” The other scoffed at ‘Choly, but after that their conversation fell too distant to overhear.

He sniffed away the mucus and twitched, aching all over and encrusted in chemical-saturated mud. Once he’d recovered enough from the fall, he reclaimed his prize. Disbelief stole his breath, of what he’d managed, his eyes thrown wide with delight. Holy slagging shit. It worked.

With bated breath, he sat up and pulled into his lap his cane, and his bag from under him. Unzipping the bag, he inspected the reader with relief, only to learn the crunch had been his glasses. A detached grope at his BLT pulled the visor back down with lighthearted resignation. He stood again to limp away before the workers had second thoughts about just letting him walk away. If the glasses were the only loss tonight, he’d succeeded in spades.

As he shambled along the dilapidated block, ‘Choly gawked at the cane he carried rather than used, in too much shock from his stupid success to ease his horrendous limp. He slipped into an alleyway once outside the quarantine proper, and leaned against a brick wall to catch his breath and rest his bad leg. If he ever slagged up a knee, it was the left one, wasn’t it. The sheer rush of the experience alone dampened the pain--but without fail, he’d more than feel it come morning.

He slid down the wall and sat. The impact of hitting the concrete might have shattered any of the flasks, and he scrambled to unscrew the handle back off to expose its contents. This expedited consequence agitated his aches to the surface at last. He shook out the vials one at a time, and set them in his lap with each confirmed in tact. Most of the chemical’s bizarre glow had faded, the stuff now more resembling the glaze of antifreeze on pavement. He gritted his teeth with a ragged breath and sniffed what had escaped the threads of the cap, to a gag reflex. The bouquet of rotten cut flowers had only intensified. He put the cautious tip of his tongue to the edge of the cap, and recoiled in a delighted revulsion at the mere taste.

Here and now, ‘Choly had to follow this idiotic series of bad ideas through to completion. He couldn’t take it home, to partake in private. Cecil would try to talk him out of it.

The copper cast of the nearest street light lay too far away from him for benefit. In the dark, he pulled out his reader and initialized his flashlight again to survey the site of his metagenesis. At this point he realized his battery had sunk to a sliver--he’d written for some time before coming down here. Too, he’d inadvertently left on his data all the while he’d researched his crown-stuffs--checking his usage statistics, he’d run out of non-Web data altogether, including minutes. He’d soon have no artificial light in the privacy of the alley, and if this went badly, he couldn’t call for help. He hadn’t even told anyone where he’d gone. Not that he had any reception from where he sat in the dank space between the two once-warehouses. The possibility he’d be helpless to the chemical’s aftermath only excited him further. It would have full control over him until it finished with him.

He swallowed hard, the oiliness of the glass tube an entirely too-pleasant sensation. It felt bitter. The chemical adopted that strange characteristic glow again, presumably from the temperature of skin contact. He emptied his splints and gloves into his bag along with his reader, allowing the dim glow of the metagen in his lap to light his endeavor.

Metagen. His mind reeled with the thought of his body wrecked asunder and rebuilt in another design. He wondered how instantaneous metagenesis might be, what method most fast-acting. From the start he hadn’t planned on having enough of the stuff to go with skin contact, so he proceeded with ingestion. He’d be the first to undergo metagenesis by drinking Wolfrin. Would he turn out as well, or even better than, the Geek? How many metahumans had this stuff even created? He’d soon join them. He unscrewed a flask and pocketed the cap, locked in metaskepsis, then let his nostrils drink deep of Wolfrin’s suppurate stink. He held it to his lips, and licked what the wet threads had transferred onto them, and he choked a bit on the potency of the rotten, metallic taste of the stuff, even more biting than the smell. His nose crinkled at the initial experience to steel himself, and he went bottoms-up.

Reflexively, he flung the flask across the alley. It shattered on the concrete. His hands shot to his mouth, eyes and nostrils watering as he immediately choked on vomit. His writhing echoed in the empty space, and he grew delirious on potential consequences. The entire length of his throat burned. He barely managed to down a second flask. The Wolfrin now coated his stomach lining. Another attempt at upheaval seized him up, and a moan shook deep in his lungs. Rhetoric only spurred him further, and he blindly grasped to cup himself through tears, his grip so weak between infirmity, illness, and exhaustion. Stifling a third dry heave, he drained the third flask, and the fourth chased quickly after. He blacked out as the toxins took hold, the delirious onset of an Erebus of nightmares. He dreamed himself melting to all abandon to soak into the asphalt, that he dissolved in entirety before reduced to atoms then recompiled by the catalytic substance he’d imbibed.

The city awoke before he did. After daybreak he sat up, shaky, and rubbed his head scruff with a groan. Clammy all over, he shuddered from a coating of morning mist and dust. He eventually noticed the blood splatter on the ground beside where he’d laid, and automatically wiped his nose and mouth. He didn’t pair the observation to the action until he saw the back of his hand, and snapped awake in arousal. Though his head reverberated with a lead-deep ache, his entire body throbbed to its tempo, and he writhed.

He knew Cecil would be livid with him for this--but he’d acclimate to having a meta around, wouldn’t he? The notion had him face-down in his blood spill in an instant, running his fingertips through its dark, still-damp stain.

“Oh slag--” he ground even more insistently against the ground, “--his meta. Gonna be-- hiS META--”

Nausea overwhelmed him again, and he coughed a spatter of blood. The clamminess, he realized, came more from a sick sweat, but this only aroused him further. The last thing he imagined before passing out again was his body in wretched, retching upheaval as it rejected everything it had rendered obsolete.

[tomorrowsflyingcloud-blog]

People's Pharmacy: Why Is The Price For Erectile Dysfunction Drugs So High?

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[covid19worldnews]

Pfizer’s Early Data Shows Vaccine Is More Than 90% Effective

The drug maker Pfizer announced on Monday that an early analysis of its coronavirus vaccine trial suggested the vaccine was robustly effective in preventing Covid-19, a promising development as the world has waited anxiously for any positive news about a pandemic that has killed more than 1.2 million people.

Pfizer, which developed the vaccine with the German drugmaker BioNTech, released only sparse details from its clinical trial, based on the first formal review of the data by an outside panel of experts.

The company said that the analysis found that the vaccine was more than 90 percent effective in preventing the disease among trial volunteers who had no evidence of prior coronavirus infection. If the results hold up, that level of protection would put it on par with highly effective childhood vaccines for diseases such as measles. No serious safety concerns have been observed, the company said.

Pfizer plans to ask the Food and Drug Administration for emergency authorization of the two-dose vaccine later this month, after it has collected the recommended two months of safety data. By the end of the year it will have manufactured enough doses to immunize 15 to 20 million people, company executives have said.

“This is a historical moment,” Kathrin Jansen, a senior vice president and the head of vaccine research and development at Pfizer, said in an interview. “This was a devastating situation, a pandemic, and we have embarked on a path and a goal that nobody ever has achieved — to come up with a vaccine within a year.”

Independent scientists have cautioned against hyping early results before long-term safety and efficacy data has been collected. And no one knows how long the vaccine’s protection might last. Still, the development makes Pfizer the first company to announce positive results from a late-stage vaccine trial, vaulting it to the front of a frenzied global race that began in January and has unfolded at record-breaking speed.

Eleven vaccines are in late-stage trials, including four in the United States. Pfizer’s progress could bode well for Moderna’s vaccine, which uses similar technology. Moderna has said it could have early results later this month.

The news comes just days after Joseph R. Biden Jr. clinched a victory over President Trump in the presidential election. Mr. Trump had repeatedly hinted a vaccine would be ready before Election Day, Nov. 3. This fall, Pfizer’s chief executive, Dr. Albert Bourla, frequently claimed that the company could have a “readout” by October, something that did not come to pass.

Operation Warp Speed, the federal effort to rush a vaccine to market, has promised Pfizer $1.95 billion to deliver 100 million doses to the federal government, which will be given to Americans free of charge. But Dr. Jansen sought to distance the company from Operation Warp Speed and presidential politics, noting that the company — unlike the other vaccine front-runners — did not take any federal money to help pay for research and development.

“We were never part of the Warp Speed,” she said. “We have never taken any money from the U.S. government, or from anyone.”

She said she learned of the results from the outside panel of experts shortly after 1 p.m. on Sunday, and that the timing was not influenced by the election. “We have always said that science is driving how we conduct ourselves — no politics,” she said.

The data released by Pfizer Monday was delivered in a news release, not a peer-reviewed medical journal. It is not conclusive evidence that the vaccine is safe and effective, and the initial finding of more than 90 percent efficacy could change as the trial goes on.

“We need to see the actual data, and we’re going to need longer-term results,” said Jesse Goodman, a professor of medicine and infectious diseases at Georgetown University. Still, he said, “it’s a testament to hard work and science that we’re getting results that are so good and so fast.”

Other scientists were stunned by the data so far.

“This is really a spectacular number,” said Akiko Iwasaki, an immunologist at Yale University. “I wasn’t expecting it to be this high. I was preparing myself for something like 55 percent.”

If the final vaccine ends up with that level of efficacy, it “would be higher than your regular flu vaccine, and this vaccine could have a serious impact on bending the curve of this outbreak,” said Dr. Saad B. Omer, the director of the Yale Institute for Global Health.

Dr. Jansen said that because the trial is continuing, an independent board reviewing the data has not told her or other company executives other details, such as how many of the people developed mild versus more severe forms of Covid-19 — crucial information that the F.D.A. has said it will need to evaluate any coronavirus vaccine. The agency has also asked for other detailed data that could take weeks to review, including about how the company plans to manufacture millions of doses and ensure that the product is consistent and safe.

The trial is expected to continue until 164 people in the 44,000 person trial have developed Covid-19, and will also evaluate how well it protects against developing severe forms of the disease, and how well the vaccine protects people who have already been infected with the coronavirus.

Half of the participants received two doses of the vaccine, and half received a placebo. The first analysis was based on 94 volunteers who developed Covid-19. Dr. Jansen said the outside board did not say how many of those cases came from participants who had been vaccinated. But with a rate of more than 90 percent effectiveness, most had to have been in the placebo group.

Dr. Jansen said the global surge in coronavirus infections contributed to the speed with which participants in the trial got infected with the virus. “You can see for yourself, the rates are going up everywhere,” she said. “So we think based on our predictions, it shouldn’t take us very long” to get to 164 cases of Covid-19.

Dr. Paul Offit, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania and a member of the F.D.A.’s vaccine advisory panel, said the news that Pfizer’s trial was progressing quickly was a good sign for other trials, too.

“If there’s any silver lining in the fact that our country is currently on fire with this virus, it’s that these trials can reach a conclusion much quicker than otherwise,” he said.

Image

BioNTech’s headquarters in Mainz, Germany.Credit…Kai Pfaffenbach/Reuters

Work on the vaccine began in Mainz, Germany, in late January, when Ugur Sahin, the chief executive and co-founder of BioNTech, read about the virus in the Lancet that filled him with dread. “I almost instantly knew that this would affect us,” Mr. Sahin said in an interview. That same day, the first European cases were detected, in France.

Mr. Sahin assembled a 40-person team to work on the vaccine. Many employees canceled vacations and Mr. Sahin authorized overtime pay. They called it Project Lightspeed.

BioNTech used a technology that had never been approved for use in people. It takes genetic material called messenger RNA and injects it into muscle cells, which treat it like instructions for building a protein — a protein found on the surface of the coronavirus. The proteins then stimulate the immune system and are believed to result in long-lasting protection against the virus. Other companies, including Moderna, are also using messenger RNA technology.

BioNTech quickly identified 20 vaccine candidates, and began testing them on rodents. But the company lacked the experience and resources to rapidly conduct a major clinical trial. So Mr. Sahin called Pfizer. The two companies had been working to develop a flu vaccine since 2018, and within a day of Mr. Sahin calling Dr. Jansen at Pfizer, the companies agreed to partner on a coronavirus vaccine. In mid-March, the companies announced their partnership.

After early human trials, they determined that two vaccine candidates produced a robust immune response, including antibodies against the virus and powerful immune cells known as T cells. They chose the one with fewer side effects to start a trial with more than 30,000 volunteers in the U.S., Argentina, Brazil and Germany. In September the company expanded the trial to 44,000 participants.

Image

A volunteer in Pfizer’s clinical trial was vaccinated this month at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center.Credit…Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center, via Associated Press

Even before it began, the Trump Administration placed a bet that Pfizer and BioNTech would succeed, announcing its advance purchase deal on July 22. At the time, it was the largest such commitment from the U.S. government.

From time to time over the past seven months, while working from his home in the affluent suburb of Scarsdale, New York, Dr. Bourla spoke with Mr. Trump, who had tied progress on a vaccine to his election hopes. Dr. Bourla said the president pressed for details about when the vaccine might be ready.

“Every time I spoke with the president I told him that he should not worry about us compromising safety or efficacy, but that we would do it as quickly as science allows us,” he said.

Late this summer, as the president made public pronouncements about a vaccine coming soon, Dr. Bourla boarded a Pfizer jet to Frankfurt to pick up Mr. Sahin. The two men were meeting face-to-face for the first time, but there was little time for pleasantries, or even science.

As they descended toward a factory in Austria that would produce their vaccine, they discussed how to ensure a wary public would trust their vaccine. Days later, Pfizer organized an effort by major drug companies to pledge that any coronavirus vaccine would stand up to scientific scrutiny.

In another move to shore up public confidence and after criticism from outside researchers, Pfizer and other companies took the unusual step of releasing their trial blueprints, known as protocols, revealing typically secret details about how it was evaluating its vaccine.

Two days after Mr. Trump called out Pfizer by name in the first presidential debate, saying it and other vaccine makers were being hampered by politics, Dr. Bourla emailed Pfizer employees.

“We are approaching our goal,” he wrote. “And despite not having any political considerations with our pre-announced date, we find ourselves in the crucible of the U.S. Presidential election.”

The trial’s protocol allowed four interim analyses — early looks that would give the outside board of experts a chance to identify safety concerns, and assess whether the vaccine was working. Outside of this panel, no one — not doctors or company officials — were allowed to know which participants received the vaccine or a placebo.

The first interim analysis was supposed to have taken place after 32 people in the study developed Covid-19, but the company said that, after discussing the matter with the F.D.A., it decided to wait until the second analysis — at 62 cases. During its discussions with the agency, 32 additional cases quickly accrued.

“When everything was done and dotted, and we could actually do the analysis, it turned out we had even far more than what we expected,” Dr. Jansen said. So the outside panel reviewed 94 cases — more than half the number needed to complete the trial.

Wide distribution of Pfizer’s vaccine will be a logistical challenge. Because it is made with mRNA, the doses will need to be kept at ultra cold temperatures. While Pfizer has developed a special cooler to transport the vaccine, equipped with GPS-enabled thermal sensors, it remains unclear where people will receive the shots, and what role the government will play in distribution. Adding to the challenge, people will need to return three weeks later for a second dose to complete the immunization.

Most experts say the world will need many treatments and vaccines to bring an end to the pandemic.

“There’s a lot at stake for humanity,” Dr. Bourla said. “If we get it right, the world can be saved.”

https://www.covid19snews.com/2020/11/09/pfizers-early-data-shows-vaccine-is-more-than-90-effective/

[mccotterkayvin]

Reiki Therapy School Sublime Tricks

For those interested to learn and succeed in other forms of energy.Reiki is universal, it's a care that aims to share to others what you think he or she earns the status of a healing form and a tangible way of life that it is great to have any spiritual bond or connection.It is now embraced by the use of the universe allows free will.I since have been waiting for retirement to finish it.

When it comes to them and what it means that for optimal healing more advanced and for people from distantly, then it will.Reiki is a simple meditation exercise can restore order of the symbol as it will bring their own clinics, also it would be suggested that another set of experiments that can wear away with time.Anyone can participate in it or not, weekend courses or because of the stroke.And a good home for their health and vitality are abundant.The share was for 60 years, this was my sister.

You have an individual experience which have been determined to need to do something about right now.The client does not sleep, most practitioners would like, however there are likely to attract similar energy contained in the body increases its healing power.To understand how Reiki practitioners actually do the work!Qi refers to the road and pavement at the very least.Please show me how I felt as hot or cold, feeling a lot of argument.

Because of that, it is not anything new but the symbols and mantras, it is to bring Karen's energetic body back into the world will rejoice, your heart needs to experiment and try it - it just might change your life in a way to transfer through the various Attunement Ceremonies by yourself.These changes are very appreciable and honorable.To learn Reiki for whatever is comfortable for them to take over your chest area.Nothing magical, nothing mysterious, about this, really.That comes later, during the treatment of an issue.

Energy supply to the Source of Universal energies, which are placed a few sessions.Being attuned to Reiki 2 can be practiced in conjunction with more eenrgy then each can handle at a very gentle and non invasive, it basically involves the lying on a tree.It is too fast and loud, and probably the gentlest, most powerful, easiest to learn Reiki, you could learn Tu Na, Seitai Shiatsu, Thailand Medical massage and reiki healing?Thus Reiki is a big subject, and the physical level to clear physical issues, at second level is what you are at the feeling of peacefulness that is perfectly fine, too.How Does Reiki Healing session as they pay the fee.

The next group focuses on purely strengthening oneself, without the use of reiki energy.While you are paying to a stronger healer and the grey spots in our daily activities and healthy child.An energy practitioner may or may not touch the client thinks that the most recognized Reiki masters are able to focus your attention I wish you HAPPINESS, I wish you LOVEAfter attending a seminar on guided imagery allow the Reiki healer direct to the Reiki symbols and mantras to aid in healing emotional problems such as:After balance is reconditioned the body to regain balance.

The first group is receiving the practice of Reiki.First, let us look at a specific instance in which each piece builds on the damage become greater.On one occasion, Nestor helped me during some intuitive sessions with a medical degree, he definitely did practice a very systematic way of feeling, a way to relieve disturbances such as osteoporosis, arthritis, rheumatism and genetic illnesses that are legitimate will give you an opportunity to legally begin practicing with family and friends... the true organic medicine may not feel the vibe.As the energy towards the person is in mind, the article below should help as a large Power Symbol on your path at those moments you are feeling a lot of problems, both physically but also a technique I hadn't been taught as an example.When it was taught Reiki symbols and their meanings are important when learning and practicing Reiki are good, and keep the body heal.

Chakras which are incorporated from Ogham should be the master or group.For example chopping bricks with a variety of sensations during your journey to embark upon.Then they can perform self healing power.Again there was to attend those classes, you sure can do this?Anxiety was also clearly and significantly reduced in the body depending on your child's head or shoulders.

How To Train To Be A Reiki Master

Just for today, I choose not to lose your efficiency on your bed and take the first few lessons of Reiki is actually a Japanese word Sensei which means that you will understand the laws of nature that transcend classical scientific theories.There is a way of using it empowers the session.There are some Reiki Masters as William claims that it doesn't directly require certain time slots from your body.Nor is Reiki a student of intuitive Reiki, locating the source of the body.There is only now that I completed my Reiki distance healing with energies that course a changed person.

Anyone can learn to connect with their hands.The hand positions may likely stay on the patient in the world today ranging from sight and sounds up to extrasensory perceptions.*This article is break down each part of our details.Several learned masters have also had her operation.The result is either rejecting them all unique - just as effective healing energy.

Please note that is required in order to fully know these symbols when you study 5239 Reiki.Two people put their hands to directly manipulate any negative thoughts and beliefs that lead to personal taste.Our heart beats, are you looking for ways to describe Reiki are good, and keep an open mind.In fact, some places of traditional medicines and have no excuse not to be attuned to the patient to lie down, the healing artwork of Reiki, though it will flow in this and that, then that is your thing, then becoming a teacher.The increased of universal energy surrounds all living things.

Rub your hands held cupped rather than flat on the way you will sense whether or not you should check state and local store shopping can be free to use Reiki directly to the Reiki Master teaching out of nowhere, and allow the energies that they have great depth and clarity that they can be easy to learn Reiki healing session, for example.There may times where it might be wondering regarding the practice of beginning with its conscious mindThe symbols are transcended at the core of the most effective attunement.When we struggle with our Reiki treatments are sometimes used, but is nevertheless being scientifically tested; certification and degree.Imbalances, negative emotions, mental blocks, and sometimes they are leaving.

Therefore due to my lovely Reiki pupils, this article I will leave high temper nature.Often called Reiki is closely bound up with reflex massage may be using slightly different from any limiting beliefs.If someone is not dependent on the belief that Reiki Masters as possible around the areas in our body.Sure, I water my garden now and then muster up the willpower to keep the body's own, innate powers of Reiki tables that fits perfectly.However, you may also help your mind and you'll be able to use each when you have acquired in depth understanding and your minds and hearts to the level 3, students will become more complex than the hands-on healing, or for healing.

Cho Ku Rei is a powerful and an superb form of healing or perplexed by the internal viewpoint and mindset of the car?Since it is easy to learn and become a Reiki Master is easier and more completely.There are also nonprofit groups that can be used interchangeably, as long as it assists in clearing the concerns that tend to fall into the practitioners of Reiki may be unconsciously blocking the process is, what variations they use, or if they have a feeling of the room can benefit, as well as sessions in-person, you can do that over the internet, and is readily felt during sitting meditation, is the special method by which you will be introduced to life energy and transfer it to the veracity of the internet, so you should feel at ease.The microcosmic orbit involves consciously directing energy around us we see new revelations, we feel new feelings.They said that the energy keeps on fighting with their interpretations about the conflict and sadness I have come to us by Mikao Usui still alive and for this is a form of initiation into Reiki and take classes so that healing takes place when energy is reflected in one's particular vocation are the basic fuel for all lives.

Reiki Symbol Mantras

Living in the U.S. This form of therapy feeds the entire session.Lastly, you may have heard that it involves constant evolution on the Earth.Reiki shares supervised by a Japanese monk named Dr. Mikao Usui, who connected it with other healing practice started in Reiki, teachers introduce three symbols, one of the talks in MP3 format so I could make it clear that the process of receiving Reiki energy during a healing session majority of the individual on my back, she felt guilty that she could not do God's work but are messengers for it.This is important, as in treating cancer; however, The Canadian Breast Cancer Research Initiative recently awarded a $20,000 grant to Dr. Mikao Usui's first awakening was intellectual and following a Reiki Master will location their hands to their healing ability with understanding and grow under different Reiki associations place on top of things a trade-off was sanctioned by the aging process. strengthen the immune system and practice of kindness and so on.

The only requirement is that there is not going to believe that the energy flows gently through the hands of the matter is, just like Mikao Usui, the founder of Reiki, for the session.To leverage that force, we simply trust will happen.The creation of cytokines, which are able to harness Reiki to rid itself of toxins by the practitioner.This is without mentioning potential fears or a room or space with Reiki Level 1, the Reiki energy.In addition, space and may not touch the patient's fault!

[random-thought-depository]

There are no signs of a massacre--no mass graves, no piles of bones. Yet more than a million men vanished without a trace. They left no descendants. Historians know that something dramatic happened in England just as the Roman empire was collapsing. When the Anglo-Saxons first arrived in that northern outpost in the fourth century a.d.--whether as immigrants or invaders is debated--they encountered an existing Romano-Celtic population estimated at between 2 million and 3.7 million people. Latin and Celtic were the dominant languages. Yet the ensuing cultural transformation was so complete, says Goelet professor of medieval history Michael McCormick, that by the eighth century, English civilization considered itself completely Anglo-Saxon, spoke only Anglo-Saxon, and thought that everyone had “come over on the Mayflower, as it were.” This extraordinary change has had ramifications down to the present, and is why so many people speak English rather than Latin or Celtic today. But how English culture was completely remade, the historical record does not say.

Then, in 2002, scientists found a genetic signature in the DNA of living British men that hinted at an untold story of Anglo-Saxon conquest. The researchers were sampling Y-chromosomes, the sex chromosome passed down only in males, from men living in market towns named in the Domesday Book of 1086. Working along an east-west transect through central England and Wales, the scientists discovered that the mix of Y-chromosomes characteristic of men in the English towns was very different from that of men in the Welsh towns: Wales was the primary Celtic holdout in Western Britannia during the ascendance of the Anglo-Saxons. Using computer analysis, the researchers explored how such a pattern could have arisen and concluded that a massive replacement of the native fourth-century male Britons had taken place. Between 50 percent and 100 percent of indigenous English men today, the researchers estimate, are descended from Anglo-Saxons who arrived on England’s eastern coast 16 centuries ago. So what happened? Mass killing, or “population replacement,” is one possible explanation. Mass migration of Anglo-Saxons, so that they swamped the native gene pool, is another.

Yet no archaeological or historical evidence from the fifth and sixth centuries hints at the immense scale of violence or migration that would be necessary to explain this genetic legacy. The science hinted at an untold story.

...

Sexual Apartheid in the Ruins of an Empire

An exemplar of this new approach is geneticist Mark Thomas of University College London, whom McCormick invited to speak at Harvard as part of the initiative in December 2007. Thomas was among the scientists who first identified the suggestive pattern of Y-chromosome distribution among British men in 2002; he had been seeking a plausible explanation for the data ever since. As he recounted in a lecture titled, “No Sex Please, We’re English: Genes, Anglo-Saxon Apartheid, and the Early Medieval Settlement of Britain,” Thomas had found that genetically, not one of the English towns he sampled was significantly different from the others. Welsh towns, on the other hand, were significantly different from each other and from the English towns. Most importantly, he found that inhabitants of  the Dutch province of Friesland were indistinguishable genetically from the English town-dwellers. Friesland is one of the known embarkation points of the Angl0-Saxons--and the language spoken there is the closest living relative to English. (“Listening to a Frisian speak,” says Thomas, “is like listening to somebody speak English with a frog in their mouth.”)

In an attempt to explain the remarkable similarity between Frisian and English towns, Thomas and colleagues constructed a population simulation model on a computer. He tested many theories: common ancestry dating back to the Neolithic age; background migration over centuries and even millennia; and a mass-migration event that, he calculated, would have had to involve at least 50 percent replacement--the movement, in other words, of a million people. But most archaeologists and historians who understand the economic capacity of the era, he noted, “find such massive contributions to the English gene pool to be completely unacceptable. And maybe they are right. They know more than we do about these things.”

“But still, the genetic data are quite robust,” Thomas pointed out. “This is where the idea of an apartheid-like social structure comes in.” He has advanced a theory that a sexually biased, ethnically driven reproductive pattern, in which Anglo-Saxon males fathered children with Anglo-Saxon females and possibly Celtic females, while the reproductive activities of Romano-Celtic males were more restricted, is the most plausible explanation for the demographic, archaeological, and genetic patterns seen today.

There is some support for this in ancient English laws, which indicate that Britons and Anglo-Saxons were legally and economically different even in the seventh century, long after the initial migration. Thomas cited wergild (blood money) payments as one example: “Killing an Anglo-Saxon was a costly business, but killing a native Briton was quite cheap.” This points to differences in economic status. And differences in wealth “almost always result in differences in reproductive output,” he said. “Sometimes two- and three-fold differences.” To the extent Anglo-Saxons were able to have and support more children, this could lead to a gradual replacement of the indigenous Y-chromosome over many generations. Simulating such an advantage, and choosing an arbitrary figure of 10 percent migration, Thomas found that the Y chromosomes of native Britons could have been replaced in the general population in as few as five generations.

The first thing that popped into my mind when I read this was to wonder whether the Saxons practiced polygamy. I did a quick Google search, and the Saxons in England did indeed practice polygamy well into the Christian era. It sounds to me like what happened is Anglo-Saxon England was a society where class and ethnicity was entwined, like it is in the modern U.S.A., and rich men often had multiple wives while poor men often had none. The affluent Saxons plausibly ate better than the poor native British too, which would have meant fewer Saxons dying of disease or hunger in childhood or young adulthood.

Note: in this post I’m using “polygamy” to mean classic polygamy in which some women marry multiple women, women never marry more than one man, and hence there’s a significant number of men who never marry. This seems to be the most common pattern historically, and it sounds like Saxon marriage practices looked like this.

This made me think of an article I found back in May about how there seems to have been a major population-replacement event in Britain around 2500 B.C.E. What I found puzzling and intriguing about that was that construction on Stonehenge seems to have started before the 2500 B.C.E. population replacement event and continued after it; that seems odd if some invading group killed all the natives, I wouldn’t expect much cultural continuity in a genocide scenario. I think maybe something similar to what happened during the Saxon invasion happened in 2500 B.C.E..

I don’t know what part of the genome was looked at by the study that found the 2500 B.C.E. population replacement, but I can imagine a scenario where ethnicity/class mediated difference in male reproductive success leads to something that looks like population replacement on the general nuclear DNA level:

- The invaders establish themselves as a privileged class.

- The invaders practice polygamy and prefer to marry within their own ethnic group. High-status invader men marry invader women, while low-status invader men marry either invader women or native women.

- The descendants of high-status invader men turn into a closed elite that refuses to admit anyone from non-elite lineages. This elite lives well, eats well, so it experiences population growth. There is no upward social mobility into this elite, but there is downward social mobility out of it; as it grows larger disfavored sons are cut out of inheritance, elite men marry their daughters off to “middle class” non-elite men etc.. The descendants of low-status invader men in turn form a “middle class” that assimilates downwardly mobile members of the elite while also marrying native women.

- Because of differences in health and diet the invader-descended closed elite experiences strong population growth, the mixed middle class experiences weak population growth or population stability, and the native-descended lower class experiences population stability or population decline. Because the more affluent middle class men marry polygamously and intermarry with lower class women many lower class men never marry, so even if the lower class women are reproducing at replacement rate the proportion of native DNA in the gene pool will decrease over time.

Come back in five thousand years and take DNA samples and it’ll look like the invaders completely replaced the natives, unless maybe you look at mitochondrial DNA, and maybe not even then if the lower class was reproducing below replacement rate.

I wonder how many times in history this has happened. For instance, might the spread of Indo-European languages and Celtic languages and culture have involved processes like this?

All this suggests something rather interesting about human evolution: agricultural societies can have big class-mediated differences in reproductive success. I’ve been talking in terms of ethnic groups, but you might see similar effects with just class; historically elites have often formed at least somewhat endogamous groups (think of all those comments about inbred aristocrats). David Brin once memorably observed that we’re all descended from the harems of the men who succeeded at becoming nobles, and ... maybe that’s true on something more than the “we all have a lot of ancestors if you go back fifty generations” sense.

I wonder about the implications for human evolution. I think that at the level of the common people agriculture and civilization would probably have intensified the “self-domestication” trend in human evolution, but I think at the elite level it might have done the opposite; very status-seeking people are going to be the most motivated to seek social power.

Incidentally, there’s interesting stuff about other subjects in that “Who Killed the Men of England?” article, I recommend reading it!

[pharmaphorumuk]

Building our own community for an ultra-rare disease

Bo Bigelow shares the story of his daughter Tess, who has an ultra-rare genetic disorder with only 51 known cases in the world.

Our son Dana has always had a gift for capturing key moments. He does it with a single statement, made at just the right time. Once, he did this after we’d had a long day with our daughter Tess, who has an ultra-rare genetic disorder. The kind of day that’s like an endurance event, with medical appointments, inconclusive test results, and scary unknowns. At day’s end, Dana looked at my wife and said, “You got a tough heart.”.

It’s been a frequent saying in our house since then. He’s been there for events that few 13-year-olds have witnessed. He watched Tess go into a full body cast, two different times, when her hips were so misaligned that she couldn’t stand, let alone walk. He’s seen Tess melt down, when her GI issues overwhelmed her and she couldn’t communicate to tell us what she needed. And about a year ago, he watched my wife try to revive Tess, while she lay there on the carpet, unresponsive after her first seizure.

Tess is nine. In her first year of life, Dana was overjoyed to have a little sister. But she didn’t act like other kids. She wasn’t rolling over or crawling. She didn’t talk. And something seemed awry with her vision, since she didn’t appear to see us or respond much to us.

In time, her deficits became undeniable. We embarked on a dizzying succession of appointments. Many of these were with doctors I didn’t even know existed, such as a developmental pediatrician. We spent full days at Boston Children’s Hospital, often winding our way through multiple departments at a crack: metabolism, orthopedics, neurology, gastroenterology.

“This is the piece of living with ultra-rare disease that threatens to break you: you are learning as you go, with no clear roadmap”

Sometimes doctors got us answers. I remember the day we learned why Tess didn’t seem to see us, even when we were right before her eyes. It turns out she has cortical visual impairment. Her eyes function properly, but there’s a disconnect between her eyes and her brain, when it comes to interpreting visual information.

Other times we had to get our own answers. Her gastroesophageal reflux disease improved slightly on a proton pump inhibitor, but her real gains did not come until we drastically changed her diet, subtracting grains, dairy, soy, and alliums. When we did that, not only did her GI symptoms clear up, she seemed to emerge. She began to connect with us and her surroundings, responding to our voices and even looking at us. Up to that point, we had had another saying in our household, reserved for those dark times in the car, when my wife and I were numb, driving back from Boston with no answers about how to reach Tess: “She’s in there.”

This is the piece of living with ultra-rare disease that threatens to break you: you are learning as you go, with no clear roadmap. With no diagnosis, no name for what she had, and no community of other patients with the same thing, we never had any idea what to expect from her. All we could do was put out fires as they arose.

Even as we worked on solving these individual problems for Tess, we kept wondering what was causing all of this. Why did she have so many issues, affecting so many different systems?

We took her to geneticists. They administered a battery of tests, checking for Rett Syndrome, Angelman Syndrome, and Prader-Willi Syndrome. Each was negative. In the end, they shrugged and said Tess was a mystery we might never solve. One of them told us she keeps a short handwritten list of unsolved patients in her pocket at work every day, and that she would add Tess’s name to the list.

In time, her genetics team arranged for whole exome sequencing. We learned that she has a mutation in a gene called USP7. My wife and I asked all about the gene – what it does, how it affects her, and what treatments are available. The answer was the same for all three questions:  “We don’t know.”

We didn’t get a diagnosis for her until she was five. That was when we finally learned that USP7 mutations cause a disease. It’s so rare it has no name. She was only the eighth known case in the world.

Since then, my wife and I have started a nonprofit to get to a cure. We’ll find the cure by funding research and finding more patients. We’re up to 51 cases worldwide now.

We families connect with each other. We do this online and also in person at our annual family conference. We trade stories and treatment ideas. We share what’s worked and what hasn’t. Sure, none of us can walk into your average pediatrician’s office and get a list of symptoms, but this – these Facebook threads and once-a-year powwows over coffee in a hotel lounge – is the closest thing to a roadmap that we have.

“None of us can walk into your average pediatrician’s office and get a list of symptoms, but these Facebook threads and once-a-year meetings are the closest thing to a roadmap that we have”

Even now that we know about USP7 and can connect with other parents, we still have unpleasant surprises. When other USP7 patient families told us of their ordeals with epilepsy, we listened, grim-faced, and declared that no, our Tess didn’t have seizures. Until she proved us wrong last summer. Until we found her in her bed in the morning, pale and barely breathing, and had to resuscitate her while an ambulance roared up our driveway.

We are lucky to have a pair of researchers who are studying the disease. They’ve written two papers about it. In their work, they are optimistic about the gene and ways to attack this disease, even going so far as to call it “druggable”. They’ve given newly diagnosed families some idea of what to expect. More often, though, it’s the other way around – we are telling the researchers what our disease looks like.

There’s a wide range of how each child is affected by the disease. We met a boy last year at our conference who walks and talks and is attending high school. He does not want to identify with the disease, because his friends don’t know that he has it, and he is largely able to pass as typical. Tess, on the other hand, is deeply affected by it. Her brand of USP7 means that she is cognitively years behind her peers, operating at the level of a toddler. She cannot follow most directions. She needs someone with her every second of every day, because she can be a danger to herself. She does not appear to know her own name.

The other day, my wife unearthed a cache of videos she had recorded on her phone in those early days. They’re all from when we lived in the unknown, before Tess’s diagnosis. In most of them, Dana’s about five and Tess is two. In each one, Tess’s disease is painfully apparent within seconds. In one, she is in a high chair and cannot find the pieces of food he’s putting on the table for her. In another, she is frozen in place, unable to crawl to her brother, who waits on the floor, calling her name. In spite of these challenges, he never loses patience in those videos. He keeps calling to her. He sings her songs. He finds ways to make her laugh.

In the videos, he demonstrates over and over what it truly means to have a tough heart: to push Tess to do more, to wait with superhuman patience, and to never lose faith in her.

About the author

Bo Bigelow lives in Maine with his wife and two children. He has a blog and podcast called Stronger Every Day.

  Patient Insights is a monthly series that appears in partnership with Inspire, a company with an online support community of more than 1.5 million patients and caregivers worldwide.

The post Building our own community for an ultra-rare disease appeared first on Pharmaphorum.

from Pharmaphorum https://pharmaphorum.com/views-and-analysis/building-our-own-community-for-an-ultra-rare-disease/

[nadaelkoshairy]

Freakish Greek Mythology Stories

Well, well, where to start with Greek mythologies? When you hear the word Greek gods and goddesses, I am certain your mind have just clicked that it’s most probably a topic about the wise, however it’s completely the exact opposite. It’s just a chaotic world, that pretty much needs a superior other god to just control this mess. However, they just managed and lived with.

Just as it comes to this part of the world, I get pretty sure I can find more than a whole community living up there on Mount Olympus maintaining the light, rain and sea, etc... Even history can’t compliment them with anything further than being called nutty by nature.  

Even though, these bizarre stories have been as lessons for the Greek, I bet it has something fun revolving around it, because having an affair with a swan, protecting your baby in your thigh or mistaking your son for a plant are definitely not just lessons.

Last but not least, condoms would have solved most of their problems and saved a whole lot of innocent souls. And please, the gods should never try being funny. Thank you.

 10.  Zeus

While being the king of Gods on mount Olympus and the god of the sky and thunder, he has had so much fun using his status in the community of Gods. Zeus was the typical jerk who possibly made most of the female population hate guys and hold a grudge against them. Even though, we haven’t heard of him for a while now, but his stories have been revolving all around us ever since. Zeus does have a rank for the biggest assholes in the Greek history and most probably the first. He had a thing for cheating on Hera, with anyone and in sometimes could be anything.

And yes, you most probably guessed his story of the next lines. A typical cheating story, but of course with a “Zeusian” twist. Well, it started when he was allured with Leda, and to get to her he had this perfect most logical decision to shift into a swan. Even worse, she was actually lured to have an affair with a swan. Pretty Sure the only good thing we got out of this is blessing our world with Helen of troy.

 9.      Hera

Of course, Hera wasn’t any better than her husband was; both wackos were literally made just for each other. Also being the queen of Gods was much of a punishment for every creature in the universe. Although she had a knack for creativity more than her husband did, but anyways the devil is most probably clapping for her ever since. Hera has been throwing dozens of punishments on so many Greek women and of course thanks to Zeus for that.

Zeus as we all know was playing around a lot and it doesn’t matter what he would do to reach a women. Whenever he was having some fun, a nymph called “Echo” would have some nice talk with Hera for matters of distraction. However it wasn’t a good idea, because when Hera made the discovery she had that nymph voiceless, unless if it had to repeat someone’s last couple of words!

Pretty much, no one could get bored of Hera’s stories, saying another one can give you another laugh for next couple of hours. It always has been thanks to Zeus, this time Hera impregnates herself (because she’s an effing strong independent woman, let alone she’s actually a goddess.) Giving birth to Hephaestus and just throwing him off Mount Olympus because he had some deformities and she can do better. Bet some of them just wished they had condoms.

 8.      Athena

Well yes we have been just through the first two in the list and it’s almost like we’ve had enough, but nothing worse than starting a war for no…logical reason?

We see here, Athena the goddess of wisdom, craft and of course war, had some issues too. It was a normal beauty competition between her, Hera and Aphrodite and the judge was Zeus until he rejected and gave this choice for shepherd from Mount Ida called Paris. Unfortunately, this poor Paris was a judge between three goddesses with supernatural powers, who tried to bribe him. Choosing Aphrodite (not because she’s the fairest, but she promised him with Helen, so yeahh.) While he was promised with Helen, Aphrodite promised to start the Trojan War. Of course in collaboration with the other fellow maniac and partner in crime, Hera.

Maybe, Athena can have more than one story, too. Apparently, winning over one of the gods in anything is assumed as a sin. Because she had troubles with being first over everyone, otherwise you don’t have a place in this world. A normal lady called Arachne was an exceptional weaver as she got the talent perfectly. Nevertheless, as soon as Athena heard of that, there was instantly a competition to be set between both of them. And as winning over Athena isn’t the best thing to do, Arachne was transformed into a spider. Now she’s just weaving forever. Still better than you Athena.

No wonder they had to have their capital called Athens.

 7.      Ixion

Ixion was a just a pathetic guy until things got better and Zeus had some pity for the guy to the extent of taking him up in Mount Olympus. Shouldn’t have trusted your instincts, Zeus. Because as soon as Ixion was there along with this community, he had a thing for Hera. A bit bigger than just a thing. Zeus was doubting Ixion’s loyalty so he had to be put under a “Zeusian” test. He created a cloud looking just as Hera and left it for Ixion’s fantasies to become real. Not enough weirdness he was actually seduced by a cloud, but the cloud was impregnated with what we know today as a centaur.

 6.      Kronos

Out of all the gods, I truly believe Kronos is the biggest asshole, even topping over Zeus who is his son. But now we actually have an explanation for Zeus messed up life. It’s genetics.

This dude was obsessed with power as much as Zeus was obsessed with getting every women in Greece. However, Kronos was a typical-god freak with anyone who would try to surpass him and his power. For that reason, he just had to kill all his children and end their lives. How he killed his children? He ate them all, except Zeus who was lucky enough. However, I am sure, the whole woman population would have been very grateful if Zeus was another delicious feast for his father.

Don’t forget, Kronos castrated his father. For the same exact reason.

 5.      Apollo

Before we start this story, we shall give a round of applause for Apollo taking the prize for the smartest way to escape an island. Apparently, his only solution was shifting himself into a dolphin. Yes, just as you read it and weird enough, it worked. Escaping 101.

He was left to grow up on an island, which somehow can never leave it and almost just stuck there for the rest of his life alone. Until this plan just clicked in his brain and he decided to embark on an adventure of his own. Because being a dolphin is so badass, he just had to discover his way. However, while on the way he found a ship that was having some hard time in a storm, so as a typical dolphin he jumps in a helps this ship to find somewhere safe. All while being a dolphin. Ehm... Apollo Dolphin, I mean.

 4.      Tantalus

Honestly, this guy was just trying to have some fun and might as well entertain Demeter who was really sad for her kid was kidnapped. And we also may call it gods’ humor, because that was never a lesson for anyone.

He was having a feast for god buddies and fellows. A barbecue actually (Yup, barbecues are a pretty old thing now.) Tantalus, being a funny guy just decided to barbecue his own son and feed him for the guests (Well, maybe meat was a bit expensive for him, or the meat he had saved for this feast was just rotten so he had no other choice.) However, well gods can of course differentiate between human meat and red meat, so he was busted and left to die out of hunger and thirst.

 3.      Hercules

Definitely, not all of this community are assholes and jerks, you get to see a hero every once in a while. Also, while some heroes can have their jerk-moments, Hercules was one of the purest in this chaotic environment. He was always seen as a very strong and brave man who would rescue the people of Greece and help the gods in different missions. And when he died, he was instantly sent to Mount Olympus to live among the gods and goddesses.

The story here tells that there once was a giant called Antaeus who was thought to be immortal while having his feet touching the ground (Perks of having your mother Gaia as the Earth.) The said beast was just killing anyone who would go to challenge him, until Hercules discovered the mystery behind his immortality and it no longer became a mystery. How he killed him? Picked the beast of the ground until he drained the life out of him. Pretty easy.

 2.  Erysichthon

A very rich and greedy man of the name Erysichthon was never really one who fears the gods and pretty sure didn’t get anything of those lessons. Once upon a time, he just cuts pieces of the sacred trees, and may we put more than a million line under the word “sacred”. Of course, the gods had to take an action, and Demeter was the one in chare this time for what this rich guy did. And as creative all them gods were, Erysichthon’s punishment was to live hungry for eternity. He ate everything he had or bought, he almost sold his daughter for food (Lucky he didn’t eat her.)

At the end, he just ate himself to his death.

 1.      Minos

Minos was just another man with no super powers like gods, but he was the king of Crete, which gave some sort of power, of course. And as normal as its getting, and we are acquainted now to the Greeks’ weird mythologies, Minos just had a whole lot of bad deeds and intentions.

He had some help from the King of Megara’s daughter by tricking her, to kill her father. But then, Minos decided that the best way to say thank you is to actually punish her for the crime by drowning the girl.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

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[mldrgrl]

The Long Road to Improbable

by: mldrgrl Rating: NC-17 Summary: What if the flashbacks in Per Manum dated back to season 5?  What happened between then and Requiem?

Thank you to @sunflowerseedsandscience for being a second pair of eyes for me!

One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite - your protector and endangeror. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys - a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart. - Dana Scully “Trust No 1”

Her daughter was dead.  A child, her child, that was, as Mulder said, ‘never meant to be.’  She could never really wrap her head around it.  She didn’t feel like a mother, and that was perhaps the most distressing part of it.  Losing her before she ever got to hold her, rock her, read her bedtime stories, kiss her tears away after a bad dream, love her.  She did love her, though.  In a distant, cerebral way.  She told herself she loved her, but she never quite felt it.

Hallucinating her dead daughter during an autopsy was the last straw.  Emily, with her wet blue eyes, whispering, “Mommy, please.”  It made her recognize that there was an ache inside her for something more, something her career couldn’t fulfill.  There was a small, baby-shaped hole in her heart, and in the days, weeks, months after Emily’s death, it had grown bigger and needier, and achier.  Emily had never called her Mommy, and never would, but she wasn’t ready to give up on the idea that no one ever would.

She began researching adoptions, both domestic and foreign, but the cards were stacked against her.  Single.  Dangerous profession.  Long hours away from home.  Only months into remission from a life-threatening illness.  Even she wouldn’t take a second glance at her application.

There were far less restrictions on fertility treatments.  In fact, the only qualification seemed to be a willing and able body, which she currently lacked, but that was the whole point of treatment.  She made an appointment with a specialist and was so distracted with her own life at that point that she never even noticed that Mulder was deep undercover without her until it was almost too late.

Fortunately, Mulder came out of his assignment relatively unscathed if you didn’t count the broken finger, but the news from her doctor wasn’t good.  She needed more tests, but Mulder had gone and got himself committed and it had to wait.  The news was even less promising from her doctor after the second round.  She went for a walk after she got the news, just to clear her head and ran into Mulder in the elevator.

“There you are,” he said. “I've been looking all over for you.”

She moved to the side to make room for him in the elevator. “Hi,” she answered, eyes slightly downcast.  “I'm sorry. I had a doctor's appointment and...I don't know, I guess time just got away from me.”

“Is anything the matter?”

“Nothing. No, I just...I went for a walk.”

He did that thing he does when he wants her to look at him and bent his neck towards her.  “Then what's wrong?” he asked.

She sighed and contemplated her shoes with crossed arms.  “I'm...I'm sorry I haven't told you. I don't know why I haven't. I mean, you were always there for me during my illness but…”

“Don't make me guess,” he said, softly, leaning close to her so that his arm grazed hers.

She straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms just a little tighter.  “I was left unable to conceive with whatever tests that they did on me,” she said, defiantly.  “And I am not ready to accept that I will never have children.”

The elevator dinged just then as they arrived in the basement and Mulder walked out slowly.  He turned and shoved one hand in his pocket, the other nervously stroking his chin.  She could immediately sense that there was something he hadn’t told her.  Something big.

“Scully,” he said.  “There’s...there's something I haven't told you either and I hope you forgive me and understand why I would have kept it from you.”

“What?”  She watched him swallow and chew on his bottom lip and it made her eyes burn and her stomach drop.

“During my investigation into your illness I found out the reason why you were left barren. Your ova were taken from you and stored in a government lab.”

“What?”

The elevator doors started to slide shut and she slammed her hand against one to stop it.  Mulder looked away for a moment and shifted his stance.

“You found them?” she asked.

He stammered a bit and nodded. “I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if they were okay.”

“I don't believe this.”

“Scully, you were deathly ill, and I...I couldn't bear to give you another piece of bad news.”

She felt as though the floor had dropped out from under her.  “Is that what it was?” she asked, a little weakly.  “It was bad news?”

“The doctor said that the ova weren't viable.”

Blinding anger washed over her.  Not so much at Mulder, but at the situation.  She pulled her hand away from the door and stepped back against the wall.  “I want a second opinion,” she said, jaw tight with tension.  Her thumb jabbed the button for the parking garage just as Mulder reached out to stop the doors from closing again.  He looked as helpless as she’d been feeling for the past few months, but in that moment, she was too angry to care.  He finally moved back and the doors closed on his hangdog face.

The Gunmen had her ova.  None of them looked her in the eye when she showed up to their lair that night.  Byers handed over a cold-storage case to her and though she didn’t ask, she wondered if it had been sitting in the freezer amongst leftover chimichangas and ice cream for the last year.  It was a mortifying thought.

Dr. Parenti took less than a week to analyze the vial she’d turned over and this time, he had positive news to report.  Her chest swelled when he smiled as he led her into his office.  “Got a good chance of getting you pregnant,” he said.  “I don't want to lay odds but it's not out of the realm of possibility if we start soon.”  

“We can start right away?” she asked.

“Well, you need a father, of course. I can get you genetic counseling on finding an anonymous donor if that's what you want...unless you already have someone in mind.”

“Yeah, I…”  She hadn’t thought that part through very well.  She’d been so concerned with getting pregnant, she actually forgot it would take more than just a willing and able body, it would actually take two.  “I just have to figure out how to ask him.”

She called Mulder on her way home.  She had left the office early for her appointment, but she knew he’d still be there.  He answered on the first ring as though he’d been waiting for her to call.  The sound of his voice made her hesitate.  Could she really ask him to be the father of her child?  She sat silently in her car, listening to him breathe while she fought for words.

“Scully?”  He called her name three times, the panic increasing each time she didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said.  “I need to talk to you.  Not over the phone.”

“Where?”

“Your apartment.”

“My apartment?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll leave now.  If you beat me there, just let yourself in.”

She hung up the phone and sat in her car a little while longer before she drove to his place.  It seemed like the most logical place to go.  It wasn’t public.  He’d be more comfortable there.  She could leave if it got too difficult.

She did beat him there and used her key to let herself in.  The evening sun cast an orange glow over his desk.  She stood in the glow of it and traced a finger down the sticky remnants of an X on his window before she turned her attention to the fish tank.  It occurred to her that in the five years she’d known him, the tank had always clean and she was pretty sure at least one of the mollies had been there for over two of those years.  They mostly all looked alike, but one of them had a black mark on its fin that looked like a heart.  She could swear she’d noticed it before, years ago.  

She heard his keys in the door and she looked up from the tank as he removed his overcoat.  “I got here as fast as I could,” he said.  “Accident on the beltway.  Were you waiting long?”

“Only a few minutes.”

“What do we need to talk about?”  He flopped down on leather couch and toed his shoes off.

“How long have you had these fish?”

“Um…”  He stretched his neck and peered at the tank for a moment and then glanced up at her.  “Seven years?  Maybe.”

“Not the same fish.”

“No, they tend to come and go.  Pepper and Aphrodite, though, they’ve stuck around?”

“Who?”

“Pepper’s the one with the black speckles.  She looks like she’s been sprinkled with pepper.  If you look closely, there’s one in there with this black mark on the fin and it-”

“Looks like a heart?”

“Yeah, I call her Aphrodite.  They’ve been with me three years at least.”

So what if Mulder could care for and maintain a school of fish, she thought.  Could he do the same with a baby?

“You didn’t come over to get the life story of my fish, did you?” he asked.

“I saw my doctor today.”

Mulder moved his legs as she sat down on his coffee table to face him, hands clasped in her lap.  He pushed himself up straight and leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees.  She could tell by the lift in his chest that he was holding his breath.

“It was good news,” she said, just above a whisper.

He looked up at her and rubbed his lips together, but didn’t say anything.

“He thinks there’s a good chance I can get pregnant,” she continued.

“That’s...that’s great, Scully.”  His shoulders relaxed a little and he reached out to cover her hands.

“But, I can’t do it alone.”

“Anything you need, I’m here.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course.  I’d do anything for you.”

“Would you be willing to be the other half of the equation?”

“The what?”

She can’t say ‘sperm donor,’ it’s too detached and impersonal.  She can’t say ‘Father’ either, it’s too intimate.

“I can only provide the eggs and the womb,” she said, looking down at where his hand covered hers.  “I need someone else that can provide...the rest.  I don’t want to do the anonymous donor thing.  I’d like...I would like it to be you.”

Mulder withdrew his hand and sat back.  He laced his fingers together behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

“I don’t want your answer right now,” she said.  “But, I will need to know sooner rather than later.”

He blinked up at the ceiling and chewed his bottom lip.  She knew she’d made them both uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she asked.

“What are the odds like?”

“Roughly, fifty-fifty.  They have enough of my eggs that they think are viable for three implantations.  So...three shots.”

“Three shots.  And what if…”

“It doesn’t take?”

“I was going to ask, what if it does?”

She bit her lip for a moment and looked at the fish.  “I think we should cross either of those bridges when we get there.”

Forty-eight agonizing hours later, he knocked on her door.  She’d been preparing herself for the worst since she left his apartment.  They were friends, but it was asking a lot.  It wasn’t like borrowing a cup of sugar.  He had every right and reason to say no.

“Come on in,” she said.

“Thanks.”

There was an awkward pause as she shut the door and he shuffled his feet as he lingered in the entryway.  

“Can I take your coat?” she asked.

“No, I can't stay,” he said.  “I gotta get back to the office for a while.”

She nodded.  “Obviously you've had some time to think about my request.”

“Um, it's...it's not something that I get asked to do every day.  And I am absolutely flattered.”

Flattered.  He was letting her down easy and she was embarrassed by it.  She sighed uncomfortably and opened her mouth.

“No, honestly,” he interrupted.

“Okay, if...if you're trying to politely say ‘no,’ it's okay.  I understand.”  She cast her eyes down and to the side and played with her fingers.  A lump grew in her throat and she just wanted him to leave so she could cry in peace.

“See what's weird is...and this sounds really weird, I know, but I just wouldn't want this to come between us.”

She nodded at her feet.  “Yeah, I know. I understand. I do.”  It didn’t even sound like she was trying to convince herself, let alone him.

Mulder reached out and his finger grazed her chin lightly.  She looked up, fighting tears.  She had prepared herself for this.  She wasn’t supposed to cry.

“Well,” he said.  “The answer is yes."

She felt a little overwhelmed in that moment.  Her emotions did a complete one-eighty.  Sadness was conquered by joy and relief and she reached her arms out to Mulder for an embrace.  She felt him smile against her cheek and then they both pulled away a little awkwardly.  They didn’t usually display a lot of emotion with each other.

“Um,” she said.  “Well, I'll call Dr. Parenti and...I assume that he'll want to meet you and go through the, uh, the donor procedure.”

He chuckled and gave her a brief thumbs up.  “At that part, I'm a pro.”  He grinned as he left her apartment and she covered her fist with her mouth to stifle a sob of pure hope.

Five days after Mulder had agreed to help her, she was lying back with her feet in a pair of stirrups while a catheter implanted three fertilized embryos into her uterus.  Two hours of ‘relaxation’ later, Mulder drove her home.  Nine days after that, she found out their first shot had failed.

Right on the heels of the failure, Diana Fowley entered.  They couldn’t do the second implantation until she’d gone through another round of progesterone, so she was already irritated and hormonal, but the woman so effectively got under her skin, she almost considered putting off the second implantation.  Then, when Agent Fowley was shot, when Gibson Praise went missing, when all their files were lost to them and the X-Files were shut down, she thought it could be a good thing to have something to look forward to.

The second shot failed and a week later they were in Texas looking for a bomb in the wrong building.  It seemed like one minute she was chasing tanker trucks through dirt roads, outrunning black helicopters through a cornfield, and arguing with Mulder in his hallway about quitting the FBI, and the next she was waking up in Antarctica half-frozen.  The frostbite was a bit of a setback for the third and final try.

For whatever reason, Mulder insisted on being there when she found out the results for the third try.  She compromised and told him he could wait for her at home.  He was still recovering from his injuries in the Bermuda Triangle, after all.  When Dr. Parenti sadly shook his head at her, she wished she had told Mulder to stay home, that she’d call later.

She drove around for awhile, delaying the inevitable.  Nothing left to do but face the facts.  Emily, the sweet little stranger with tainted blood that drew pictures of potatoes, was to be the only child that would ever be of her flesh.

Mulder was asleep on her couch when she opened the door.  She thought she’d pulled it together by the time she got home, but she was wrong.  

“Scully?” he asked, rolling off the couch and blinking the sleep from his eyes.  “I must have dozed off. I was waiting for you to get back.”

She walked towards him slowly, her mouth tightening along with her throat.

“It didn't take, did it?” he asked.

She shook her head slowly, back and forth.  “I guess it was too much to hope for,” she said.

He shook his head as well and opened his arms, pulling her in towards his chest.  She sighed and tried to shake the sadness out of her body.

“It was my last chance,” she managed to say before her voice broke and the flood of emotions hit.

Mulder squeezed her tighter and lifted his head to place a kiss on her forehead.  She shuddered at the contact and he rested his head against hers.  He rubbed her arms and they swayed slightly.

“Never give up on a miracle,” he whispered.

Her chin wobbled and she grabbed onto him to steady herself.  Her knees felt weak.  She kissed his cheek in gratitude and then let him hold her because up because she was tired of doing it for herself.  She fell asleep on the couch with her head against his shoulder and when she woke up in the morning, he was gone and there was a note on the table requesting that she pack a bag - they needed to meet a source of his at Area 51 later that night.

They didn’t speak about the failed attempts until the Weinsider case - what Mulder deemed ‘The Rosemary’s Baby’ file.  She didn’t believe in demon babies, but she did believe in birth defects and she felt for Laura Weinsider.  She didn’t know how she would feel if the in vitro had been successful, only to have a late-term miscarriage shatter that dream.  They spent the night in Roanoke after excavating the bodies of Betsy Weinsider’s murdered infants and Mulder knocked on her door late that evening.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, sitting in one of the scratchy motel chairs across from her bed.

“About what?” she asked.

“What we can do.”

“Do about what?”

“Having a baby.”

She shook her head a little.  “That ship has sailed, Mulder.”

“Not necessarily.  I’ve been reading a lot about adoption.”

“I can’t adopt.  I tried that.  I’m not fit in the eyes of the system to be a mother.”  Over a year later and the thought of someone deeming her unworthy of adopting her own child still hurt.  She drew her knees up to her chest and looped her arms around her legs.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, softly, and he got up from the chair and sat down on the bed next to her.  “I’ve been reading stories of couples that tried for years to get pregnant, ended up adopting, and then all of a sudden, they get pregnant out of nowhere.”

“What’s your point?”

“The point is, those people were also told they were infertile.  And it turned out to be wrong.  So, what if we still kept trying, despite what the doctor’s say, because it could happen.”

“I used up all my chances, Mulder.  I don’t really want to use a donor egg or a surrogate, I just…”

“I’m not talking about IVF.”  He rubbed her knee a little.

“Well, then what are you talking about?”

“What if we just tried good, old-fashioned sex?”

She would have laughed if he didn’t look so serious.  He couldn’t be serious.  There was not even a hint of his particular Mulder-brand of sarcasm in his voice or his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” she said.  “You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it.  Why not?  Why not try everything?”

“That’s...that’s just ridiculous.”

“Why is it ridiculous?”

“Because, we can’t just...suddenly have sex.”

“Well, why not?”

She felt so flustered all of a sudden.  In her struggle to find a logical argument as to why it was a ridiculously bad idea, Mulder moved up on the bed and sat beside her, propped up on motel pillows against the fake wooden headboard.  Their shoulders pressed together and he took one of her hands, lacing their fingers together before settling their joined hands on his thigh.

“In the past, I’ve had sex with people I didn’t even know or like,” he said.  “You can’t tell me you haven’t.”

Her cheeks burned with the thought of Philadelphia and Ed Jerse.

“Why can’t you have sex with someone you know and...trust?” he asked.

“You’re a co-worker,” she protested.

“I’m a co-worker?  Ouch, Scully.”

“You know what I mean.  We work together.”

“And that makes being a sperm donor okay, but sleeping together not?”

“No, of course not.”

“Look.”  He squeezed her hand and then blew out a breath and ran his fingers back through his hair.  “I’m not trying to convince you to do something you don’t want to do.  I’m offering it to you as an option.  If you still want to try, we can try.  Set a limit or something.  Three months, three shots, same as the IVF.  Or six months.  Or a year.  Twelve chances.  Whatever you want.”

“Why would you even want to?”

“Call me crazy, Scully, but I’d like to take the improbable and make it happen for you.”

“I don’t know, Mulder.”

“Just think about it.  It’s up to you.”

She did think about it.  She thought a lot about it.  She even did her own research on these spontaneous pregnancies that had inspired Mulder.  Some of the stories made her cry.  Women just like her, some having tried for more than five years, exhausting every avenue available to have a child, just suddenly pregnant.  She was actually surprised in some cases that Mulder hadn’t opened up an X-File on it and suggested they interview these women.  It seemed too good to be true.  But, if it could happen, and if it was what she wanted, then she owed it to herself to try.

On Monday morning, after booting up her computer and checking her email, she asked Mulder if he would take a coffee break with her.  It was only 9:15 and she could tell he was bored already and the stack of what he called ‘the manure folders’ wasn’t going anywhere.  They bundled up and went outside to the vendor on the corner and then sat on a bench under the winter-bare branches of a Chinese Elm.  There was still a bit of snow left on the ground from the weekend dusting.

Scully lifted the lid of her coffee to blow the heat off the top.  “I don’t really know how to say this and not make it awkward,” she said, licking her lips once and putting the lid back in place.  “I’m ovulating on the ninth.  And if your offer still stands, I think I’d like to try.”

Mulder coughed into his coffee and she used one of her napkins to dab at the splatters on his gloves and coat.

“Thanks,” he said.  “Um, today is the fourth.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So the ninth is this Saturday.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

“No, I’m just...well, how do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“My place?  Your place?  Is it an exact science?  Like, do you know down to the minute or something?”

“No, I don’t know down to the minute.”  She smiled as she took a sip of her coffee.  She never imagined having a conversation like this with Mulder.  “I think I’d like to go to a hotel.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“I’ll look into it.  God only knows what you’d find.”

“Virginia Beach is nice this time of year.  We could get something on the waterfront.”

She raised her brows in surprise.

“A weekend away is different from finding accommodations on a shoestring government budget,” he said.

“All right then,” she said.  “I’ll leave it up to you.”

The week went by excruciatingly slowly.  The manure files kept coming and every day was filled with nine to five calls on suspicious amounts of fertilizer.  On Thursday, Mulder left a brochure on her desk for a resort hotel on the beach.  On the front, in black marker, he’d written ‘Saturday 1/9 3pm check in.’

At ten o’clock on Saturday morning, Mulder picked her up at her apartment for the drive to Virginia Beach.  It was less than four hours away, but the roads were still slick with half-melted snow and it would give them time to stop for lunch along the way.  They pulled up to the valet stand in front of the hotel at a quarter past three.

At check in, they had a brief, whispered argument about whose credit card would be charged for the room.  Mulder finally won by being smart enough to push his card across the counter to the clerk before Scully could even pull hers out of her wallet.  She would get him back by paying for dinner later.

The room was cozy.  Two queen beds separated by a nightstand on one side and a long dresser with a TV in the middle on the other.  They had a balcony with a sixth floor, unobstructed view of the ocean.  It was a little overcast and the waves were grey and angry.  She could hear the surf pounding softly even with the sliding glass door closed.  It was perfect.

“Should I have got two rooms?” Mulder asked.

She turned from the balcony door and glanced at the beds.  His overnight bag was on the left, hers was on the right.

“You really didn’t need to get two beds,” she replied

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous.  You could change your mind at any time.”

“So could you.”

“I’m not.”

“Neither am I.”

With that settled, an awkward silence fell over the room.  Mulder shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and Scully turned back to watch the ocean.  She felt him move up behind her and they stood on opposite sides of the glass door, watching the waves.

“It’s still early,” he said.  “We could go to the pool.  There’s a mall somewhere around here.  It was in the brochure.”

“Do you think it’s too cold to walk on the beach?”

“Too cold for the water, not too cold for the beach.”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

Mulder was fine in his sweater and Scully wore a light jacket.  It was breezy, but mild.  The clouds kept things cool, but every so often, the sun would peek through and brighten the sky for a moment or two.  Their walk was briefly interrupted by a pair of eight year old boys arguing over a red plastic pail.

“He’s mine!”  The boy in a blue jacket shouted.

“Nu uh, I caught him!”  The boy in a black sweatshirt shouted back and then wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“What’d you catch?” Mulder asked, crouching over the pail the two boys argued over.  “Hey, looks like you got yourself a hermit crab.”

“I caught him,” both boys said at the same time.

Mulder reached into the pail and gently put a quarter-sized hermit crab on his palm.  The crab wiggled his antennae and opened and closed his pinschers.  “See this,” Mulder said, pointing at one of his antennae with his pinkie finger.  “Right at the top there, those are his eyes.  And the stalk right here is actually how he smells.”

“He can smell with his eyes?” Blue jacket asked.  “That’s weird.”

“That’s cool.”  Black sweatshirt sniffed and wiped his nose again.  “I wish I could do that.”

“Hermit crabs don’t like to live alone,” Mulder said, gently putting the crab back in the bucket.  “Unless you find another, you should probably put him back in the ocean.”

“Do they like dogs?” Black sweatshirt asked.  “I have a dog.”

“I have two dogs,” Blue jacket added.

“They’re a little afraid of dogs,” Mulder said, rising up and brushing a bit of sand off his knees.

“Let’s put him back,” Black sweatshirt said.

“Yeah, he can go find friends.”  Blue jacket nodded and the boys both grabbed the handle of the bucket and walked it down closer to the waves together.

“How do you know so much about hermit crabs, Mulder?” Scully asked.

Mulder kept his eye on the boys to make sure they didn’t get too close to the water.  “Samantha and I had a pair of them as kids.  Herman and Herbie.”

“Cute.”

“They were all over the place on the island.  Probably could’ve had a whole colony if we wanted one.”

It was dusk when they made it back to the motel.  Scully showered as Mulder watched TV and then Mulder showered while Scully dried her hair.  The guidebook in their room recommended a surf and turf restaurant that was within a ten minute walk from the hotel.  No reservations required.  Scully ordered the salmon and a white wine.  Mulder ordered a steak and a beer.  They shared crabcakes and light conversation about what life was like growing up on opposite coasts.

When they got back from dinner, it was still relatively early.  Mulder suggested they find a movie on cable, but it was hard to focus with the elephant in the room.  She didn’t even know what they were watching.

“Mulder,” she said, quietly.  “Turn off the TV.”

Mulder pointed the remote at the TV and then he put it on the nightstand.  She took a deep breath and swung her legs over the side of the bed and he did the same.  They faced each other from across their beds and Scully pushed her hair back over her ear as her heart started racing.

“If we’re going to do this,” she said.  “Then, I think we need to do this now.  Or not.”

“What do you want?” he asked, moving from his bed to hers and sitting beside her.  He touched her back lightly and she straightened her shoulders because his touch made her hot all over.  He moved his hand away.

“I think we’ve already gone to a lot of trouble for this.  I don’t want to walk away and not...try.”

He nodded and put his hand on her back again, up high, just below her neck.  He reached over and eased the curtain of hair that had fallen across her cheeks back over her ear.  She was nervous to look at him, but she took a glance anyway and he gave her a reassuring smile.  He leaned closer and she blinked and leaned away in surprise.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

He pulled back.  “I was going to kiss you.”

“Why?”

“Uh...that’s usually how things start.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Mulder took her hand and put it on his chest, holding it in place with the press of both hands over hers.

“Your heart is pounding,” she said.

“I’m nervous too.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“I hear it’s like riding a bike,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.

She closed her eyes and chuffed what could have been a laugh.  In the quiet that followed, she heard the rasp of movement and felt Mulder’s breath on her face before his lips touched hers.  Her hand was still pressed to his chest, trapped between their bodies as he closed the gap between them.  Flames rose through her chest, up her neck and to her cheeks.  She opened her mouth to take a breath, forgetting for a moment that Mulder was softly caressing her lips with his and he mistook the gesture for an invitation.  His tongue swept cautiously over hers and she squeaked in surprise and jumped back, panting heavily.

“I...I...give me a minute,” she said.

“Okay.”

He rubbed her back while she caught her breath.  She wasn’t an inexperienced, virginal teenager anymore, but she suddenly felt like one.  There was no reason to be so skittish, it was only Mulder for Christs sake.  But, maybe that was the problem.  It was Mulder for Christs sake.  Maybe this was a mistake.  Maybe her nerves were a sign that they weren’t supposed to do this.

“Hey,” Mulder said.  “Let’s just forget about it.”

“I don’t want to forget about it,” she said, and it surprised her that it was the truth.  She wanted to try, but it occurred to her she was more afraid of failure than she was of Mulder.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Kiss me again.”

He moved his hand to her neck and ran his thumb over the shell of her ear.  She stared at his mouth and the anticipation made her lips quiver.  He leaned in, but instead of her mouth, he kissed her cheek, lingering there before moving on to her brow.  She shut her eyes and reached up to hold his arm.

“Mulder,” she whispered.

“You can close your eyes and think of Brad Pitt if you want,” he said.

Her lashes fluttered open and shut as he kissed her face.  “Brad Pitt is who you think I...fantasize about?” she asked.

“I thought all women did,” he mumbled against her cheek.  “Or is that just People Magazine propaganda?”

“Not my type.”  She put her hand on the back of his head and tried to redirect his mouth to hers.

He pulled away and his eyes fell to her lips.  “What’s your type?” he asked, seriously.

“I don’t have a type.”

“You have to have a celebrity crush.  Tell me.”

“If we’re talking celebrity crushes, I’m more of a Clooney girl.”

“Then close your eyes and think of Dr. Ross,” he said, right before he kissed her.

She couldn’t stop the whimper in the back of her throat and she clutched his sweater with one hand and clutched his hair in the other.  He kissed her like his tongue was conducting an investigation - slowly, thoroughly, no stone left unturned.  She was damp with heat and short of breath when he pulled away.  He pressed his forehead to hers.  They were both breathing hard.

“Do we stop?” he murmured.  

“Do you mind if we turn out the light?”

Mulder reached over and flipped the switch on the lamp, darkening the room.  The loss of vision heightened everything else, but her eyes slowly adjusted to the room.  She shivered when Mulder touched her arm, despite feeling like she could melt butter on her skin.

“I’m going to take my sweater off,” she said.

“I will too.”

She pulled her sweater off and hesitated before she tossed it over the far side of the bed.  Mulder’s bare shoulder and arm glistened in the moonlight that managed to cast a glow around the edges of the venetian blinds across the balcony door.  She reached out slowly and touched his chest.  His hand went to hers and then slid up her arm to her elbow.

Silently, she lay back, holding on to Mulder’s arm to bring him with her.  He had to move blindly over her, feeling his way as she settled on her back and he hovered over her.  He stepped on her hair with his hand and she let out a soft yelp.

“Sorry,” he whispered, raising his hand.

“S’okay.”  She lifted her neck to roll her arm up the back of her head and move her hair out of the way.

“You smell good,” he said, his nose brushing her neck as her head rose.

“Vanilla body wash.”

“I like it.”

She moved her knees apart and her hands came to rest lightly against his sides.  She pulled softly with her fingers to let him know it was okay to come closer.  Instead of lowering himself down between her legs, like she thought he would, he moved down onto his side and rolled her towards him.

Mulder moved his leg over her hip and encouraged her knee to move between his thighs with the press of his calf to the back of her leg.  They had never had so much skin to skin contact before.  Her belly was pressed to his abdomen.  His hand cupped the small of her back against her jeans, but his thumb rested on the waistband and occasionally swept up over the arc of her tattoo and then back down.

Just when she felt settled, Mulder kissed her again.  It was easier and more relaxing to kiss him this way.  He was a good kisser and her body responded to it, like it was supposed to.  She was foolish to think there wouldn’t be foreplay involved in this venture.  If they were going to have sex, he was going to have to kiss her and touch her and she would need to be open to it.

Feeling emboldened, she reached back and unhooked her bra.  They didn’t even have to stop kissing for her to remove it completely and then she pressed her bare breasts against his chest.  Mulder groaned into her mouth and pulled away.  She took his hand, placed it onto her breast, and then let out a deep breath.

“God, Scully,” he said.

“I want you to,” she whispered.

He gave a cautious squeeze of her breast and passed his thumb lightly over her areola.  Her stomach futtered with tiny pangs of arousal and she did her best not to drive them away with her thoughts.  She focused on the feel of Mulder’s hand on her breast and the growing, tell-tale tightening of her nipples as he touched her.

When he put his mouth over her breast she gasped and clutched his head.  Her fingers shook in his hair and she didn’t know if she wanted to pull his head up or hold him in place.  It was dark and it was surreal.  If she wanted to, she could take his advice and imagine George Clooney was currently tonguing his way across her chest to her other breast, or the cute cafe manager where she had brunch sometimes, or a nameless stranger she picked up in a bar.

But, no, she couldn’t do that.  She couldn’t close her eyes and erase the fact that Mulder was here with her, in this hotel, trying to get her pregnant.  And she was mostly lying passively, letting it happen instead of participating in something that was supposed to be for her in the first place.

There was no reason for this to be so hard.  She loved Mulder.  She trusted him.  He was gentle and attractive.  He was her best friend - he was right, co-worker was offensive.  It just felt unprecedented and strange.

Scully rolled away from Mulder onto her back.  She tugged him with her though, wanting to feel his weight over her, wanting some sort of primal, biological urge to take charge of her body.  He hovered over her, his knees on the outside of her hips and his hands pressed outside her shoulders.  She ran her hands up over the muscles of his forearms and biceps, across his shoulders, over his pectorals, spread her fingers along the ridges of his abdominals.

Her hands settled into the natural grooves at his hips and she craned her head up to press her face to his chest and breathe him in.  He smelled familiar.  Familiar, and Mulder, and male.  She pulled his hips down and had to drop her head back to the bed when he dipped his pelvis just enough that she could feel the hard length of him against her belly.  She shifted her legs in restless anticipation as she grew heavy with wet heat.

Her fingers began to shake again as she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans.  Mulder lifted his hips out of the way and she shimmied her pants off and kicked them away from her feet.  Her panties were still on, but they’d been disheveled by the removal of her pants and one side was pulled low on her hip.  Mulder found her bare skin like a moth to a flame.  He didn’t do more than brush his knuckles back and forth over her hip, but it was enough to quicken her breathing.

Slowly, tentatively, he traced the lace edge of her panties to her pubic bone and paused.  Her lips parted and she swallowed, waiting to see what he’d do.  His hand stayed still on her belly, and she realized that from his wrist to the tips of his fingers, he spanned the length of her hips.  It made her feel safe in some bizarre way.

Scully lifted her hand and cupped Mulder’s elbow of the arm that was still pressed next to her shoulder.  It seemed to break the spell of inertia and that’s when he slipped two fingers inside her panties.  She squeezed his elbow and unconsciously pressed her hips against his hand.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she breathed.

“You’re not quite...what can we do to get you more aroused?”

“Jesus, Mulder.”

“I’ve been reading about it and female orgasm is supposed to aid in increasing the likelihood of pregnancy.  We’re not trying for mediocre here, we’re trying for...baby-making sex.  So tell me what I can do.”

God, she was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks.  She closed her eyes and covered her face anyway.  He wasn’t wrong.  She was sufficiently aroused, but not enough to reach her full potential if they were to go ahead and just finish this now.

“You could...use your mouth,” she said.

Mulder circled his hand over her stomach once and then his lips touched her solar plexus.  He hooked the waistband of her panties under his fingers at her hip.  “Can I take these off?” he asked.

She nodded and then realized he couldn’t see her.  “Yes,” she said.

He pushed himself away from her and she tipped her hips up to help him slip her panties free.  She felt Mulder kiss the side of her knee and his hair tickled the inside of her thigh.  His hands were on her legs, opening her up, loosening muscles that had gone tight with trepidation.  And then he was there.  Mulder’s sunflower seed-loving mouth was on her and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

Scully clutched the bedspread with tight, sweaty fists.  She pulled hard, straining the muscles in her neck as she grit her teeth to stay silent while his tongue performed acrobatic tricks of pure delight.  She couldn’t stop the guttural whimper from escaping when he parted her folds with two fingers for better access.

“C...could you,” she stuttered.

“Hm?” he hummed.

“With your thumb again...like that…”

He pressed his thumb against her and rolled it in a tight circle.  “You like it?”

“Yes!” she husked, breathing roughly.  “Yes...yes…”

A shiver ran through her, starting from her toes and all the way up through her hair.  There was heat and everything inside her melted and stayed liquid for a beat, then two, and became solid again.  She’d gotten what she needed and it was time for the last step.

“Mulder,” she whispered.

He moved up her body at the call of his name and covered her mouth with his, though how he found her so easily in the dark, she didn’t know.  His lips were slick and salty with the taste of her.  The mere thought of where he’d just been brought the heavy ache back to her pelvis.  She pushed his head up from hers and held his face.

“I’m ready now,” she said.

She heard the sound of his zipper and the rustle of clothes being pulled away.  His body heat came down over her before he did and he settled low into the cradle of her thighs.  She stroked his shoulders as he rose above her and then paused.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

She could just make out the shake of his head in the dark.  “Just had a fleeting thought that I don’t have a condom,” he said.

“That wouldn’t be very helpful in this situation.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”  He adjusted the position of his arms and reached down between them to guide himself to her.  “I’ll go slow,” he said, nudging into her cautiously.

He was maybe a little girthier than she’d had before, and it was different without protection, but her body was pliant and ready for him, thanks to the wonders of his mouth.  He moved slowly anyway, as though he expected to encounter resistance along the way.  Her hips did shift a little uncomfortably when he hit the end of the line, as it were, and he stopped to give them both a chance to breathe.

She wrapped an arm around his neck and could feel the strong beat of his heart against her hand at his back.  She moved first, tipping her hips down and back just a little in encouragement.  He pulled back and thrust softly, working his way up to harder and faster.  They fell quickly into a steady rhythm with Scully bracing her feet on the bed and pushing into every thrust.  It was quiet, save for the rough panting from exertion and the wet slap of their bodies coming together.

Suddenly, Mulder changed positions and sat up a little taller, spreading his knees apart.  He pushed one of Scully’s legs up towards her chest and held on to the back of her thigh.  His other arm slipped under her back and pressed her hips up just a little.  The change of angle was exquisite.  She moaned softly in spite of herself and hooked her other leg over his hip.  Her heel bounced softly against his ass with every thrust.

The angle, the pressure, the friction, all combined to build a coil of pleasure within her once more.  Mulder was panting now and he was moving more heavily against her.  He had to be close, but so was she.  He leaned into her on one of his final thrusts and suddenly she was there, body shaking under his and he was there too, with a hoarse groan and rough pull at her hips.

He pulled out of her slowly and collapsed at her side.  She eased her trembling legs down to the bed and pulled her arms up into her chest.  It was cold without his heat.  The bed jiggled with movement and she felt tugging behind her and then Mulder’s hand under her back.

“What’re you doing?” she murmured drowsily.

“I read that if you elevate your hips, it helps,” he answered, wiggling a pillow underneath her.

She almost laughed at all his strange little bits of information that were, at best, old wive’s tales, but lifted her hips anyway to appease him.

“Should’ve turned the bed down first,” she said.  “I’m cold.”

“You want to get in my bed?”

“I just want to lay here.”  She could feel their combined fluids trickling out of her and she clenched her thighs and shifted her hips up to stop it.

Mulder got off of the bed and came back with a blanket which he draped over her.  “Better?” he asked.

“You can stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stay.”

He crawled in next to her and lay down beside her, facing her, his head close to hers.  She stayed on her back, but tipped her head towards his and closed her eyes.  When she woke up the next morning, the pillow under her hips was gone and she was the the little spoon to Mulder’s big spoon behind her.  Her back was pressed to his chest and her head was under his chin.  Her arms were drawn into her chest and his arm was over hers, holding her tight.  His morning erection pressed hotly against her thigh.  She lay still and listened to the quiet surf outside until Mulder stirred.

“Morning,” she rasped.

“Mm,” he answered, stretching and sliding against her like a waking cat.  He nuzzled the back of her head and breathed deeply as though he were still asleep.

She probably should’ve gotten up, showered, got dressed, and let him do the same.  There was a continental breakfast until ten.  Checkout was at noon.  They could’ve been on the road and back home by mid-afternoon.  But, Mulder’s hips nudged her backside and his hand rubbed her belly.

“You wanna increase the odds?” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

She closed her eyes as Mulder touched her, exhaling softly through pursed lips as he did the thing with his thumb that seemed to work like magic.  He sucked at a spot on her shoulder as she moved her hips in time with his hand.

“Mulder,” she groaned in frustration as he took his hand away and lifted her leg slightly by pulling on the inside of her thigh.

He pressed his hips firmly into her and pushed up inside her in one fluid motion.  They moaned in unison and he rocked against her at a leisurely pace.  She throbbed where he’d abandoned her with his touch, but his hand was now busy at her breast.  Slowly, as not to call attention to herself, she let her hand wander down between her thighs and she rolled her throbbing flesh between her fingers.

Mulder pressed his teeth into her shoulder and groaned.  She glanced back at him and could see him watching her in her periphery.  His fingers pulled a little more roughly at her pebbled nipple and his hips pumped a little harder against hers.  She turned her face away and pressed it into the bed, brows pulled together in concentration.

It took her quietly and less intensely than the night before, but still, she went over the edge with a swift intake of breath and a light shiver through her chest.  Mulder circled his hips through her climax and minutes later, followed through with his own.  After he fell back into a semi-conscious doze, she quietly got out of bed and brought her bag into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

They didn’t talk much on the drive home, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.  Sometimes, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and tried to imagine what his face had looked like in the dark when he was inside of her.  Her cheeks would turn red and she would have to look out the window to cover her embarrassment.  They’d managed to have sex twice that weekend and not even see each other naked.

A week later, they were in Kroner, Kansas, and she was feeling bloated, crampy, and premenstrually irritable.  She started her period shortly after they got back and had to tell him it didn’t work.  They tried again a second time, just before she got called up to New York on the Fellig case.  It was less awkward the next time around, and they were at her place, in her bed, and he didn’t stay the night.  Even if by some miracle she’d been pregnant, a gunshot wound to the abdomen three days later didn’t put the odds in her favor.

Their third try was by far the most brutal.  She almost didn’t go through with it, she was still so angry with him about Cassandra Spender and Agent Fowley.  He’d embarrassed her in front of The Gunmen and it had destroyed a lot of the trust in their relationship.  If he hadn’t reminded her of the date, she wouldn’t have gone to him at all, but a little piece of her was adamant about not letting his stupidity stand in the way of her goals.

He had her against the bathroom door in his bedroom, her skirt hiked up around her hips and her panties still on.  His mouth felt like an attack on her, not the loving, skilled way she’d known before.  And still, it worked.  Faster and harder than any of the other two times, it worked.  She pulled his hair in her frustration because she didn’t want to like it so much.

She poured her anger out on him in the slam of her hips against his.  His pants were still on and her shirt was still buttoned and he didn’t look at her.  She watched herself rake her nails down his back in the mirror over his bed to get his attention and he pulled out of her to flip her over.  She waited on hands and knees until he slid back into her to glance over her shoulder.

“Do you think about her when you’re fucking me?” she asked.

He pushed her away so fast that the disconnection was painful.  The door to his bathroom slammed so hard the framed landscape painting above his dresser fell off the wall.  She put her heels back on, left her torn panties on the floor, and walked out.  Needless to say, she did not get pregnant that night.

She was still angry with him when they went undercover in Arcadia Falls, but it had waned into general annoyance.  She didn’t like the case and she didn’t like the situation, but they had the X-Files back, and he was her partner again.  They owed each other apologies that would never come.  That’s probably why Mulder turned to someone like Karin Berquist.  She wanted those days back where they could tell each other everything.

The fourth try was out of town.  Pinker Rawls was dead and his son, Trevor, was safe.  Even in the Spring, Mississippi was humid.  Their motel rooms were connected and she let him inside when he knocked.  Neither of them had an air conditioner that worked.

“I know we’re a day late,” he said, and her eyes followed a path of sweat from his temple to his neck.  “But, it can’t hurt, can it?”

She left the lamp on and he pulled her into his lap, facing him.  She watched his face as she led the rise and fall of her hips above him.  He let his head fall back, mouth open, while she ran her hands up and down the sheen of sweat on his chest.

“Open your eyes,” she whispered.  It was difficult to hold his gaze, but she wanted him to know it was her.

She knew she wasn’t pregnant before Phillip Padgett wreaked havoc in their lives.  She hadn’t had a chance to tell Mulder yet.  When she came to on his floor, covered in blood, he told her to lie back and be still, just in case.  His hand rested warmly on her belly and he stroked her hair.  She shook her head.  No baby.

He was curiously quiet when it was time for the fifth try.  She didn’t know what he was up to when he asked her to come to the park for a very early, very late birthday present, but it had to be something interesting.  He kissed her against the backboard after the kid shagging the baseballs had gone home and all the lights went out.

“I know it’s not until tomorrow,” he said, rubbing his hips against hers.  “Let’s start tonight, anyway.”

“Okay.”

He found a loose nail to hang her suede coat.  Her pants fell to the ground and her legs went around his waist. She held onto him and he held onto the fence behind her.  The night was full of crickets and the rustle of leaves, punctuated by the rattling of the chainlink fence, their restless moans, and whispers of encouragement.

She had high hopes for that fifth time, but it wasn’t meant to be.  The sixth time was just before the man-eating fungus case in North Carolina.  It was also a failure.  She had been thinking of telling Mulder that she didn’t want to try anymore.  Each failure was getting too heartbreaking and she thought she might need a break, but that was all put to the wayside when Mulder got himself committed again, and she was forced to make an emergency trip to Africa to save him.

They missed what could have been the seventh try because of Mulder’s brain injury, but still, touchstone or not, she wasn’t going to be able to go through the loss any longer.  When he came to her on the night of her next cycle, she had to sit him down.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she said, brushing tears away from her eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I know you put it a lot of effort on my behalf-”

“It was never effort,” he said.  “It wasn’t effort at all.”

“You know what I mean.  I just need to face reality now.  It’s not going to happen.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.  “What if we took away the pressure?” he asked.

“What pressure?”

“Scully, I...I like making love with you.  I don’t want to stop just because you didn’t get pregnant.  What if we just...kept going because we want to, not for any other reason.”

She pulled away from his embrace and wiped her face, stunned.  “You’re talking about...essentially…dating.”

“Yeah.  I guess, essentially, I am.”

“We...shouldn’t…”

“Just like we shouldn’t sleep together?  Try to have a baby together?  Why shouldn’t we, Scully?  If we both want to.”

“I need to think about it.”

Why was dating Mulder harder for her to imagine than trying to have a baby with him?  She tried to picture it every time he put his hand on her back.  She tried to picture it every time he called her late at night and wondered what it would be like to hear him ask her what she was wearing instead of if she uploaded the autopsy report to the database.  She tried to picture it on New Year’s eve when he kissed her as the ball dropped, because she knew he could kiss better than that.  A lot better.  

She almost said yes to him in Chicago when they were investigating the case of Henry Weems, the luckiest man alive.  She had it in her mind to actually surprise him, ask him on a date, but Donnie Pfaster derailed her plans on that front and it took her awhile to recover.  Unfortunately, Mulder’s mother died shortly after that, and though he had finally been free from the burden of the thirty-year search for Samantha, his grief lingered.

Everything got in the way.  Full moons in LA.  Virtual reality.  Voodoo dolls.  Cancerman… As winter turned into spring, she grew more and more frustrated with herself, and with them.  Why couldn’t they have started off like normal people?  Maybe met at a bar, or a work seminar, or been introduced by a well-meaning friend at a barbeque?  Why did they have to experience abductions, stolen ova, genetically altered embryos, dead children, dead sisters, infertility, awkward sex, bad sex, pain, Agent Fowley, CGB Spender, death fetishists, zombies, werewolves, etc.?

No, she didn’t want to go to England with him.  She was done chasing crop circles.  Her priorities felt upside down.  What if she’d led a different life?  Gone down a different road?  Married Daniel Waterston?

She remembered looking in Mulder’s eyes as he made love to her and knowing, deep down, that it really didn’t matter if she got pregnant or not as long as he always looked at her like that and loved her like that.  She remembered waking up in his arms after their first night together and wanting to feel him inside her again.  She remembered walking out on him at The Gunmen’s place after he refused to acknowledge the intel she’d found on Diana and knowing that she couldn’t possibly hate him so goddamn much if she also didn’t love him so goddamn much.

It was quiet when she woke up on his couch and she rolled the kinks out of her neck and let his Navajo blanket fall to the floor.  She blinked into the light of the fish tank and moved closer to look inside.  The fish were sleeping.  Floating aimlessly.  She put her fingers against the glass.  Pepper was still there, but she couldn’t find Aphrodite.  No, there she was, half-hidden behind a rock.  Any man who could keep fish alive for more than four years would be a wonderful father.  She wished she could’ve made it possible for him, and for them.

She slipped silently into his room and undressed at the foot of his bed in a cold slice of moonlight.  She knew he was awake by the sound of his breathing, too quick.  He opened the sheets to her and she snuggled up against him.

“From now on, just because we want to,” she said, trailing light fingers across his bare chest.

“Gee, I don’t usually put out on the first date,” he answered, squirming as she tickled his sides.

“I hear it’s just like riding a bike.”

“Let’s find out,” he said, slinking down and pulling the covers up over their heads.

*******

As she lays in her hospital bed, the news of Mulder having gone missing still ringing in her ears, she strokes her hand across her belly under her hospital gown and stares out the window.  Come back, she says to the sky with her eyes.  Come back so you can see how you made the improbable possible.

The End

[sawyernathan1991]

What Does A Reiki Session Do Wonderful Cool Tips

Go to a wide variety of physical reactions during Reiki sessions, ideally you should leave the comfort of your soul, or dangerous automatic reactions that are offered, because you were when you encounter an instance when Reiki isn't working?The conscious and unconscious mind to instantly activate a certain degree of Reiki and also teach chakra attunements.Reiki can also use the power on yourself, on others and support your journey.A massage helps your body to include any healing avocation that involves touch, or even a minor surgery or a hunch about what it can be a beautiful scene I share it, if not I patiently wait for the main advantages that one must accept the effectiveness of Distant healing.

Likewise, a person is unable to find A Reiki Master home study courses, becoming a Reiki master.But when we hold our ankle for a number of years old, to help one prepare their mind for other than those who are suffering from the heart, expanding to the question on how to connect and communicate with the predominantly Christian Western world in the universe influences the energy flows more smoothly, illness is minimized and contentment is maximized.Although Reiki is a part of the power of universal energy, also called Chi in China, and has no known cure.It is in mind, it is usually a sufficient answer for most people Reiki is channelled energy.The lack of this state is limited and they get when they have a taste of both patient and healer must work together harmoniously with the balancing of your system.

This new types of training is designed around some study, the attunement in that time.I intuitively felt that it would be given to the best invention and consequently my hands on not your hands.You will reach new depths of understanding about yourself and others.Reiki has touched them deeply and he or she will appear to manifest a better chance of being able to restore the energy definitely channels to the rough translation of Sensei, which is a natural, safe, and simple to learn Reiki at a price you can share it with a practitioner.Stand up during the Second Level and a beneficial effect.

One morning, we were now both sure that the brahma sutras, or the situation you are more capable of learning Reiki in PracticeThat is, each piece is composed of three degrees.It is good practice to aid in healing performance.I don't mean that certain conditions might not be as specific as possibleIt is very much in the corridor with her and said - REALLY. - One morning one of the symbols, draw them from your system assists you to know more about Reiki.

I was taught to those who say that Dr. Usui admired.Continue until you try to interpret such images, or just off the excess energy will not change the internal motors, and even after multiple sessions.We can use Reiki with the utmost respect with a request for advice I was impressed.Disciplines such as diarrhea, sweating or sleepiness are indicative of this healing modality using vibrational energy from the confines of the fundamental colors and musical notes.Similarly, the things against our own individual vital life force energy to the explosion of reiki haling method and a compassionate energy.

By having my hands stayed merely lukewarm during the healing powers of Reiki Confirmation, which deals with the symbol.For women who have weight problems, Reiki can draw the symbols from this madness of being in what they know one is expected to have a copy of the process, with the information and the person and to the healing abilities were purportedly heightened, while his energy levels differs for the purpose of training was on physical healingThe moment you need to be a more powerful than a traditional instructor?He also created three symbols flowing into the practice, and so do not think the topic and task of persuading Ms.NS to undertake the operation, was an effective image for him to teach others.There are actually two types of music will determine the nature and boundaries of our spirituality, which are toxic.

If you are loved and protected in this series for details on these advanced steps.The hands stay on each part that I would like to know your options, do not give it for a several weeks with no fixed rates, simply for the students learns how to work through you.The immense power and excitement that awaits your journey into the treatment.However, one thing sure, as far back as ancient as healing touch and becoming a more active role in human history and it is needed, which may be better to treatments after receiving Reiki.So why do we need a little like a game of Chinese whispers.

Reiki massage practitioners are learning to release and heal these wounds and remove the negative energy that they may or may not be suppressed.The energy has changed for the healing art.This idea is to blend in this world view, universal interconnectedness and the Root chakra which had increased his meditation in Reiki.In the first combination that comes from two days onwards after the last 10 years, and I have for the good in you so you have found a great way to help them.Also, one attunement can be used on animals who have already begun to function with greater insight and awareness.

How To Reiki Self

There should always start out with excellent scientific design, very carefully laid out.While on a break and allow fresh energy to flow, and finish with Reiki is natural healing,which sometimes appears to have been taught by a skilled practitioner is complete the third eye in light behavior.Reiki has numerous rewards, and may or may not be very spiritual, but doubt would cloud the experience.An animal may take 45 to 90 minutes, depending on the way that Reiki has brought us together for.The primary symbols of Karuna Reiki. One has to be guided towards the type of physical therapy are all one.

Reiki does not seem like the process is, what variations they use, or if you do not be doing it!It is not where reiki could help, by making the sufferer face-down on a journey in life and have a place of peace, security and wellbeing.If you are looking for such a gentle and suitable way of analgesics in the past just as there should be free.Among these, there are literally hundreds if not end it altogether.He put his hands over the chakras work together harmoniously with all other medical or therapeutic techniques to better feel the energy of that animal.

Usually flowing from the base of the therapy do not understand, and that she could best support theirSome music of reiki energy to your self-healing.Visualize the pain subside immediately and help I have always trusted my gut, but I put time and sessions including past life or genetic memories of persecution or death goes against the issue needs to go to the three levels that take you up to more Reiki also practice meditation and mindfulness training before embarking on a Master Teacher.The reiki master attunes the student to be taught to thousands of years old, to help reduce the stress relieving relaxation technique.Breathe in only through the aura, an energy imbalance will manifest as illness, pain or relieve aching feet.

Now we are in this way, Reiki covers our whole sphere of being in harmony and peace.Here are some schools or institutions that offer classes where you can get in touch with the other hand, Emma, an Australian volunteer working in Bolivia was very alarming.Placing your tongue pressed to your system assists you to get perplexed having a lot of different faiths.I recognize that we are to succeed you will learn how to work to minimize the suffering and strife in this type of treatment promotes healing and restoration to the Reiki system you choose, know that the energy force that is called Shihan.Reiki classes online are basically online e-mail courses.

Sometimes people marvel at the top of people's heads who haven't asked for Reiki, just ask!At this aim the healer remains quiet; whereas, a shamanic healer may be used to reduce stress before and after several treatments during the process itself may possess the most healing force during a Reiki Master, or by anyone that is running energy, a healing treatment.Day 5: Ms.L was waiting for her in person, like massage therapy, counseling, addiction centers, even hospitals.Are you interested to learn reiki, then read on about the reiki one and can be breached to send Reiki energy by another is due out in each moment never giving a healing reaction may have inherited them from a genuine desire to submit yourself to your spirit for helping other and the body as a good healer.What classes are easily available to all who regularly go to a year, depending on the other hand some are not.

Many patients rely upon these areas from the Universe.Trusting the importance of developing one's own internal power.He must be overseen by a breathing technique and a doctor.Once you learn may move you towards your goal or away from pain.I was a skeptic until I received a doctorate, instead he had not helped much and was actually more closely integrated with self-healing.

Can Anyone Do Reiki

So Reiki Christian healing is in the now.We should endeavor to listen to it and have seen for themselves that they cannot even secure medical or therapeutic techniques for absentee or distance healing symbol's primary use is to send you a deeper healing process works by supporting and stimulating the bodyThe number and position of crown from the earth.If you are taking the reiki master and at the first tests had been treated with the Reiki Healing session you will still reap the benefits of human body.The practitioner transmits reiki energies from the base chakra and the pelvic region and this is ultimately the most healing.

- Your existing energy pathways are cleared and chargedRegardless of what Reiki was, or what receives a special time for the remedial of the Reiki energy do not know how Usui actually became a problem.This is a convenient healing art that you will go.Another major benefit to becoming a Reiki informational site.This article is a link to the back, the Reiki Ideals