#failure to launch programs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sightseertrespasser · 2 months ago

Text

Odds of Survival part 9

Jazz has an itty bitty teeny weeny severe mental breakdown.

Credit once more to @keferon for starting this au.

———————————————————————

Jazz never thought he’d find himself deeply empathizing with the xenomorph from Alien, but here he was.

Doing freak shit.

A lone lifeform trapped on a spaceship with no idea how their technology works, no means of escape and no way to sustain themselves. Skittering across the ceiling and one wrong move away from murdering someone on contact.

Plus, I pop out of my mecha like an actual motherfucking chest burster. So I’m sure that’ll go over GREAT.

The parallels were compounding into existential crisis territory.

It got way too fucking close handling that checkup with the medic. Trying to keep his cool felt like he was trapped in an hours long quick time event. Every question had to be snap judged for the safest possible answer. Completely make shit up and risk getting caught in the act, don’t give away any information and they’ll know you’re hiding something.

Jazz juggled that damn Catch 22 like a professional. Thank you.

Case in point, while one of his mechas arms was still non functional, Jazz managed to maneuver his actual arm inside the cabin to grope around for some water to chug. Without disconnecting from the mecha.

That particular stunt felt like splitting his brain in half with a splintery wedge. The water was absolutely necessary, but the pressure inside his skull rang like an air horn zip-tied open.

Right now the only coherent thought he could form was the overwhelming animal desire to find a dark hidden hole and crawl up inside it. Then repeat that motion by disconnecting from his mecha, finding the most secure hiding spot inside that, and passing out for oh just a quick little 24 to 36 hours.

The pilot paused. Down the hall, mechas- giant alien robots- had noticed his disappearance. Even through the language barrier, Jazz would recognize the opening lyrics to his personal theme song anywhere: “Oh fuck where’d he go?”

Hidden behind rows of pipes, Jazz counted his inhalations until the thuds of metal feet passed him by.

Was the alien invader from The Thing scared? If it had finished building its spaceship would the Thing really have tried to take over the world? Or was it just desperate to go home?

Jazz was panting. Or maybe hyperventilating. He made a conscious effort to pull air through his grit teeth at an even flow. Even though he couldn’t actively feel his human body, the dull droning dread pressed through the disconnect to whisper “You’re running out of time.”

He didn’t know how long he had left before his stupid flesh sack would start giving out, but he needed to be somewhere safe when it happened. He’d make it. He’d make it because he had to to make it. He was the best goddamn pilot in the entire program and that was for one reason and one reason alone: Failure Was Not A Motherfucking Option.

If his options were do it the hard way or not at all, then the hard way was what the world got.

Once the guards passed, Jazz slunk along the wall, reaching upside down to fry another security pad, only for the door to open automatically.

Risking it, Jazz peaked into the room and not seeing or hearing anyone, slipped inside.

Once the door slid shut behind him, Jazz lowered himself to the ground one handed, scanning the room more thoroughly.

More screens, inactive. A chair and a couch. Miscellaneous wall kibbling, a table, cabinets. Windows.

Jazz gasped.

Glowing clouds of light, layered like sheets stretching into infinity. Star clusters like paint splatters on black velvet.

White and amber. A haze of something pink.

Unconsciously, Jazz moved towards the window, until he could lightly tap his visor against the glass. His field of view consumed by galaxies.

Back when they first launched him into space, Jazz had come to terms with the let down that all he’d get to see was a black slate and maybe a couple dots. The space station didn’t have many windows to start with, and all his space walks took place when the sun was “out”, so Jazz never really got to see as much of the Milky Way as his inner child hoped.

Now, the child was quiet. Face pressed against the glass, Jazz felt his throat closing up.

At least I got this. Even if I’ve got a half life, I got to see the stars the way they were meant to be.

He hovered. Wanting to find a song to match this moment, but couldn’t find anything more fitting than his own breathing. The rush of blood in his ears was still loud, but a white noise that could substitute for silence.

Like a marble rolling off a table, Jazz felt his stomach drop a moment before his conscious mind could follow.

“It’s wonderful isn’t it?”

Jazz had his arm cocked back to turn the poor fuckers face into a plate but locked himself mid swing at the last second. The mech had lifted a tablet to protect himself, and the move was such a Bullied Nerd cliche it stopped Jazz cold.

Now that his heart rate was breaking highway speed limits again, the angry radio static that was his racing thoughts drowned out any coherent thoughts of what to say.

The mech peeked out from behind the tablet and wow. That’s a guy. That’s just a straight up dude. Prowl and Elita were bulky enough that Jazz could at least imagine where a pilot could sit. But this guy? He looked like the only thing he could throw out was his back. Jazz didn’t even know “elderly twink” was a look possible for a giant robot.

Mystery Codger was staring at him. Jazz still had a fist raised.

Do something say something do something say something you fucked up you fucked up either kill him or start lying just do anything brain please.

“Could you help me find my glasses?”

Jazz faltered. “Wu- What?”

The mech uncurled from his brief defensive huddle. “My glasses? Spectacles? Ah, object-sight-improve-positive?”

The pistons in his arm faintly hissed as the tension released.

Maybe-

As if this was all normal, the mech gently set the tablet on the table, before squatting and squinting at the floor.

Maybe I just have actual brain damage.

Acting on mental autopilot, Jazz took the opening to behave like a normal person. Crouching and scanning the floor for giant alien robot spectacles.

“My name is Rung by the way. I actually don’t think we’ve met previously.” Rung said that last bit with an odd inflection Jazz didn’t have the brain power to think about.

“Jazz. We definitely haven’t met.” He couldn’t quite keep the exhaustion from making that last bit come out snippy.

Rung simply hummed and continued his search. For his part, Jazz was taking the moment to center himself, preparing the best mask he could on short notice.

How long could he keep faking it? Prowl had been with him since he woke up and he didn’t show any signs of needing to sleep. They had doctors. Prowl cared enough about his “health” to take him to one. If Jazz collapsed in front of anyone, they’d drag his sorry ass back to the medbay and it’d be game over. He couldn’t just ask for a place to crash or else he ran the risk of tipping them off he wasn’t one of them if they really didn’t sleep.

A faint tapping sound made him twitch in his stupor.

“Now where could the blasted thing have gone.” Rung was sat crossed legged on the ground.

With Jazz. Who’d vaguely crumbled into a kneeling ball under a table.

Jazz stared at Rung tapping his glasses against his chin. The orange mech made eye contact, and Jazz swore to god he caught him smile.

He reached out a hand, pointing, “Found ‘em.”

The smile came to fruition. Rung aha-ed and held his glasses before himself, inspecting them fondly.

“All that trouble for such a small problem. And all I needed was to ask for help.”

Jazz let himself sag slightly against the wall. Dully thudding the back of his head. “Okay. I’ll cop that was a good trick.”

“It did pull you out of your spiral didn’t it?” Rung said sounding way too smug. He pulled a cloth out from where-ever-the-fuck and cleaned his glasses with it.

He’d been seeing these mechs pull out and disappear objects all day like a bunch of Looney Toons characters. That kind of lapse in logic didn’t bode well for Jazz’s mental condition.

He let his eyes close, rationing his remaining focus.

“How’d you know that’d work?” He mumbled.

“You seemed afraid. You stalled out when you saw I was afraid.” Rung simply stated before he then asked rhetorically, “You’re a protector aren’t you?”

Jazz made a noncommittal sound. Lying was his first impulse, but he really didn’t feel like giving this guy more material to hook him with.

The mech laughed once anyways, “You are. Unorthodox too. I can see why you have such a hold over Prowl.”

That got his attention, “I do?”

“Oh yes.” He heard Rung shift into a more comfortable position on the floor. “Even if he can’t recognize the feeling anymore, I think you give him hope.”

Jazz wanted to laugh and he would if he had the energy.

Instead Jazz sighed. “I’m kinda at rock bottom right now man. And currently? Lil bit fresh outta hope myself.”

And ideas.

Jazz was of the opinion that any problem was solvable if you were willing to get crazy enough, but this was like trying to solve treading water a million miles from shore with only sharks for company. He either drown slowly or get torn apart the moment the sharks realized he was there.

“Hopeless mechs don’t stop to stare at the stars in wonder, Jazz.” When he opened his eyes, Jazz saw Rung staring him down like he was insulted. “To be hopeless is to let yourself die. Do you intend to die today?”

“No.” He challenged back, body minutely tensing.

“Are you willing to do absolutely anything to keep living?” Rung poked him in the chest.

“Yes.” He responded just as quickly, but there was a rasp to his voice. Something small and quiet. Not easily caught. Not easily killed.

“Even ask for help?” Rung quirked his head at him, shit eating grin growing by the second.

Jazz deflated, groaning loud enough for his mecha’s speakers to vibrate his bones.

“Look, I appreciate the therapy session doc, but asking for help is legitimately not an option for me right now.”

Rung leaned forward, resting his chin on a servo, “Alright then. List your current alternative options that you alone can accomplish, devoid of any assistance whatsoever.”

Jazz didn’t respond.

The silence continued to linger.

“Go on.” Rung gestured.

Cornered, Jazz could feel his horns pin back and a burning sensation in his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his visor even though it didn’t actually help.

“Where’s Prowl?”

Rung chuckled, victorious. The scrawny orange mech scooted out from under the table and stood, offering a servo to Jazz to do the same.

The brief rest left Jazz jelly limbed, which was evidently bad enough to translate to a faint tremble in his mecha. Despite that, Jazz didn’t take Rungs hand because there’s no way in hell that guy could support him if he fell. Elita’s threat over harming her crew was still fresh and shiny in his mind.

“You’ll find his office down that way.” Rung pointed out the direction. “Down the hall, turn left at the first junction, pass by two more doors, turn right at that junction and then keep walking until you reach the end of the hall. His office isn’t labeled but I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Rung opened the door and then took a seat in the chair next to the couch. “I’d offer to have Prowl come to meet you here, but I have another appointment coming up shortly.”

Oh uh. He actually is a therapist.

Jazz laughed humorlessly, “Why not invite them to join the party? Make it a group session.”

Avoiding eye contact, Rung fiddled with a stylus, “Ah, that would not do I’m afraid. My next patient recently figured out how to “bite” people by quickly jabbing his helm forward and I’d rather that not be your first encounter with him.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Jazz simply nodded numbly.

He paused at the doorway, running the directions through his head again, before turning back slightly. “Hey Rung? Thanks.”

“It’s Rung, and you’re… welcome?” The mech trailed off, looking at Jazz with surprise as the door slid shut behind him.

Walking away, Jazz got about thirty feet before realizing he couldn’t turn his head too quickly or else he’d start seeing double. Feeling the countdown drop into double digits, Jazz hurried along Rungs path.

And nearly crashed into another mech.

It had a head like an old school security camera, a single yellow camera lense cycling down to a pinprick at his appearance. The chassis was crazy long and pointed. Out of habit, Jazz tried mapping out what the interior would look like. The pilot seat would need to be horizontal but it was pretty doable. The limbs were definitely on the skinny side but sharp and fast looking. Bonus points for what was definitely front mounted guns.

All in all, solid design. 7/10.

“Hey.” The mech rasped.

Oh fuck right, Alien.

“Sup.” Jazz replied eloquently.

The camera lense eye loosed, upgrading to a coin sized pupil and clearly looking him over.

“Empurata?” The mech said casually pointing to his legs and visor.

“Uh, sure.” Jazz shrugged.

“Same.” Nodded camera-head.

“Cool.”

The two of them awkwardly stood in the hall. Camera-head seemed content to block traffic and Jazz was mentally banging rocks together in hopes of getting a spark of intelligent thought.

“Can I peel off your visor with a knife?”

The mech held a dagger pinched between its crab claws and Jazz had to bite his tongue not to ask why it didn’t just use those.

Instead, the brain rocks came through.

“Rung lost his glasses.” Jazz threw up a thumb, gesturing over his shoulder. “Needs help. Now.”

Good job brain rocks.

“What? He does?” The mechs head popped up like some kind of fucked up goose, before shoving past Jazz, knocking him into the wall.

“HOLD ON DOC I’M COMING!”

The mech folded inside out into a mother fucking helicopter?! Charging down the hall in a whirlwind so strong Jazz could feel it through his mecha.

Jazz counted to five, and crawled back up into the safety of the ceiling pipes.

He blinks, and he’s staring down another hall. Left turn, two doors, right turn. . . Wait. Was that a right or left he just did? He’s upside down so everything should be reversed right?

He doesn’t remember blinking but the hall is at a different angle. New hall? Or did he just turn his head?

Jazz wants to press the heels of his palms into his eyes until everything holds still but he can’t. So he keeps moving. Keeps hiding.

And then he sees the most beautiful goddamn mech in the universe marching down the hall. Followed by half a dozen substantially less impressive mechs with guns drawn.

Stilling, Jazz remained hidden behind the pipes. Evidently alien robots had the same peripheral blindness to ceilings that human security guards did, as none of them noticed him.

Except for Prowl.

Through the gaps, Jazz watched as Prowl gave rapid fire orders to the armed soldiers behind him. Six mechs. Six guns. Three too many for Jazz to take in his current state. Prowl went silent and his wings twitched. Shivering, Jazz got the deeply uncanny sense he was being intimately observed.

The lights were ringing in a tinnitus B flat. He had the audio feed from his mecha dialed way too high but he couldn’t afford to miss any detail of what would happen next.

Whatever Prowl was said next, it must have been in his native language. Which Jazz found deeply unfair after all the work he’d put into learning Common.

The black and white mech turned to his cohort, waving them down the hall ahead of them. Prowl did not follow, wings still minutely shifting position. Once they were out of sight, Prowl turned on his heel back the way he came. Flicking a single piercing look to Jazz.

Silently. Shakily. Jazz skulked along the shadows after him.

He mental map was fucked. Every time he blinked, Jazz lost track of the most recent few seconds of his life. If Prowl wasn’t stopping every fifty feet to not-so-subtly check that Jazz was still following him, the human didn’t know where he’d end up.

Finally, Prowl reached a door at the end of a hall and entered without any delay. Jazz dropped, moving inside before the door could close again.

“Please don’t freak out.” Jazz cut him off before Prowl could set the tone of this conversation. The mech closed his mouth and after a moment’s consideration, assumed a tense but mostly neutral stance.

“I will not ‘freak out’.” Prowl looked like wanted to say more, but Jazz couldn’t afford that right now.

“Awesome! Because right now I’m freaking out and I won’t be able to keep it together if you start freaking out too.” He was pacing back and forth, not really seeing the mech beside him anymore.

“Jazz.” A servo caught his elbow, stopping him in place. “Where have you been?”

“Oh you know. Here. There. Ceiling mostly. Shockingly unrelated, but I think a talking helicopter wants to wear my face as a hat.” Jazz nodded way too enthusiastically in a manner he hoped translated into an appropriately manic “Please god help me.” grit toothed grin.

Prowl was momentarily speechless before physically shaking off the latest deluge of confusion, “That sounds like Whirl. You would not have encountered them had you stayed in the med bay like you were supposed to. Now I’m asking you again: What are you doing and why are you doing it?”

Audibly cracking, Jazz tried to answer honestly but found his voice locked up. He couldn’t, why couldn’t he..? Why was talking suddenly so fucking hard?

Meanwhile, Prowl just looked defeated. He rubbed that spot between his eyes, not yet letting him go.

“If you cannot provide a reasonable explanation for your sudden shift in behavior, I will have to assume the worst. You leave me no choice but to-“

“I’M REALLY SHORT.” Great. Fantastic. Incredible work brain. Take five.

Prowls optics flickered. Brow furrowing as he looked up at Jazz’s clearly taller mecha.

“That’s not- I mean-.” Jazz clasped his head in his hands, switching back to English. “{I- I- don’t know if this is even real.}”

Something was gripping his arms. Black and white appeared in his vision. “Jazz, please. I can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Common was easy to learn but right now it felt like Jazz was playing Scrabble with a bad hand.

“Prowl, where do you go when you- when you change-body-shape?” He had to stop to breath midway.

Please, please, please this is the last chance for anything to make sense.

But instead the mech slowly shook his head in disbelief, “Where do I..? Nowhere Jazz, it’s still me, I’m not ‘going’ anywhere. My alt form is not a different person.”

The mech gently pulled Jazz’s hands off his head from where he’d been stressing the damage from earlier. “I understand if you’ve never seen an alt mode before but your behavior, your questions, they’re not making any sense.”

Prowl stopped. Optics going wide as placed his servos on Jazz’s wrists. “Jazz are you Crashing?!”

“What? What is that what you call a mental breakdown? Cause yeah I’m having one of those.” He said a little too breathlessly.

“Sit-“ Prowl pulled him down to the floor. “Sit down. I’m calling for a medic.”

“No!” Desperately, Jazz grabbed onto Prowl who was helpless but to join him on the floor. The floodgates opened and Jazz couldn’t stop.

“No no no no, please god no. They’re gonna find out. I need to to tell you. I need to tell you myself. Just, please I’m begging you don’t do it. Give me a chance. Just give me a chance to explain, I don’t want to wake up on a table, please Prowler.”

For his part, Prowl was handling the situation as well as to be expected. He didn’t try to leave again but did get into a more comfortable kneeling position next to the panicking mecha.

“Alright. Alright, I won’t leave. Speak.”

Jazz tried tapping an alternating rhythm on the floor, giving himself literally anything else to focus on. He swallowed back bile and his thrashing fight or flight instincts.

“I’m not-“ Jazz grit his teeth. Telling the truth felt like trying to pop a dislocation back into place. Actually no. Jazz had done that before and it had felt infinitely less unnatural than what he was trying to do now.

Prowl was patient. Bless his heart, motor, whatever he’s got in there. Remaining silent beside him.

The pilot forced himself to take complete breaths, “l. Am not. The same. As you.” One, one two, one two, one two, Jazz counted in time.

“I noticed.” Prowl stated flatly, then softening his expression, “You hadn’t realized you were an alien until now, didn’t you?”

Jazz laughed a little too hysterically, “No, no I Fraggin’ did not. Please don’t freak out.”

“Jazz, you are hardly the first alien species I’ve ever encountered. At least you actually look like a person.”

The pilot got very, very quiet.

“Prowl, what do you think of organics.” Resolutely, Jazz stared down the floor panels, refusing to look anywhere else.

Momentarily, Prowl opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. He shifted to kneel in front of Jazz. Sharp optics darting across his frame. Lightly, Jazz could feel him trace something along his undamaged shoulder. He shivered against his will.

“Jazz.” Prowl got down to where he had to look at him. He spoke so, so softly, “Were you created by organics?”

Well, when a mommy human and a daddy human love each other very much…

“You could say that.” Jazz rasped instead.

He hadn’t even moved, but the energy in the air just went burning cold. Prowl went from soft to deathly serious so fast Jazz visibly flinched.

“Listen to me. You do not have to go back. You do not ever have to go back. I swear on everything I stand for I will not let another one of those things anywhere near you again.” Unintentionally, Prowl was crowding into his space.

Despite himself, Jazz just kept drawing himself in smaller and smaller as Prowl closed in.

“No no no no you don’t get it, that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I am!” He started quiet and steadily grew in volume.

Prowl wasn’t getting it. Instead, raising his voice to match, “No you are wrong! You have a choice now! You aren’t just your function and you aren’t just something they made to die!”

He grabbed Prowl by the shoulders, shaking him, “I DID CHOSE THIS. I KNOW I’M GONNA DIE, BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT.”

“Then what ARE you talking about?!” He shouted back.

“I’M ONE OF THEM.” His microphone peaked, and his voice broke.

The quiet hurt. Anything that wasn’t numb hurt. He gulped down air and couldn’t keep more than one eyelid up at a time.

Prowl ground his jaw tightly, practically steaming from reeling back a sense of calm by force, “You are not shorter than me. You are not thinking straight. And You. Are not. An organic.”

Jazz only semi involuntarily rolled his eyes.

“Fuck it.”

He disconnected, and everything hit at once.

Vision went and came back out of focus and way too close. His ears were ringing too badly to hear the sound of his mecha’s chest plates opening, though he knew that they were.

Every fiber of muscle in his body was torn and screaming, he’d throw up later if he had the strength. Jazz did not so much stand as he did lift off the pilot seat and then buckle forward. The hard shell of his pilot suit saved his knee from getting gouged by the corner of the platform he was slipping off of.

That’s fine. He’d land on the steps.

Except, his mecha had been leaning forward hadn’t it?

Like a rag doll, over the edge he went. A huge and blurry and black shape rushing to meet him.

———————————————————————

Is Jazz capable of telling the truth when it’s to save his life? No.

Will he do it out of spite just to prove someone wrong? Yes.

Also, secret props to @somerandomcockroach for showing how fun Rung is to write.

Bonus bit, Prowl finally let his EM field loose far enough for Jazz to notice! It was bad.

-SSTP

<- First Last ->

#tf mecha universe #writing

829 notes · View notes

shepscapades · 1 year ago

Text

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5��9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present!

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself.

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids, to give him a chance to find deviancy on his own terms. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar (there's something there, I think), but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁ EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

#dbhc #dbhc art #dbhc ref #dbhc cub #cubfan #hermitcraft #cubfan135 #hermitcraft au #art escapades #writing everything out in a really succinct/condense way is actually really helpful #I might add Etho and Doc’s artfight descriptions to their own reference pages actually #just because it’s really helpful to have all of the lore in one place LOL #I always wrap up these ideas in my head and save them for when I can make art to reveal the plot dramatically yknow #but for characters that aren’t really my priority right now it’s kind of nice to just get the info down #especially for the people who ask about specific characters a lot #SO ANYWAY #I ramble #if anyone has any opinions on this method of relaying dbhc lore feel free to lmk!#there will obviously be things that I keep hidden :3 #Bc sometimes art reveals are the best >:3 #but for stuff I might not get to in a while…. yeah #I don’t mind it #ALSO #HILARIOUS TO ME THAT freshly awoken cub reminds me a lot of IRL cub LMAO

2K notes · View notes

apas-95 · 1 year ago

Text

Did you know that NASA engineers considered the failure rate of some critical shuttle parts to be about 1 in 100 (significantly greater than what NASA upper-management considered the failure rate to be, and what was considered at all acceptable by the certification process)?

Do you know that NASA engineers currently have no idea how many rocket launches the next mission in the Artemis program (in 2 years!) is meant to involve, because the mission plan relies on SpaceX being contracted to deliver a supply of cryogenic fuel to the crewed Orion (™ Lockheed-Martin) capsule in orbit - a procedure that 1: has never been attempted before on any spacecraft, let alone the Orion™ capsule, not even in uncrewed technology demonstration flights; and 2: would require an as-of-yet unknown number of SpaceX 'Starship' launches, because said vehicle does not actually exist at time of writing?

Did you know they're planning on using this 'starship' as the crewed lander? A design for a lunar ascent vehicle, that is, that does not use hypergolic fuel, that relies on a swing-out crane as the only entry and egress point? During the original moon landings, the LEM had so many redundant methods to make sure it got astronauts off the surface of the moon, that in the most absurd, extreme case, where every single mechanism fails, there's a procedure trained into the astronauts to climb around the outside of the capsule, take a pair of bolt-cutters from the equipment box, physically cut the couplings holding the capsule to the lander stage, and take off to get home. Artemis' proposed lander, on the other hand, is planned to be a vehicle whose design didn't even include heatshields until it was realised it would obviously need heatshields, which are ceramic tiles bolted after-the-fact directly through the steel hull, because SpaceX had decided to mass-produce the original-design hull sections all at once for all the 'starships' first, before doing any integrated testing.

We're seeing the exact attitude that led to the shuttle disasters not being prevented now expressing itself in (and even through) the Artemis program, a project pushed harder and faster through the gates than it should be, by a government (and NASA administration thereby) desperate to advance the eponymous Artemis Accords (that goes unsigned by China, Russia, and much of the world) and reneg on all previous space charters that onsidered ownership, commercial exploitation, and military usage of space forbidden. Something bad is going to happen, and it's going to happen for the sake of SpaceX and the military-industrial complex at large.

2K notes · View notes

itertarot · 4 months ago

Text

Quick Tarot Reading | Career

Which Career is the right for you?

Pick a color

One/Black:

My dear pile 1, the ideal profession for you involves teamwork, long-term goals, hierarchy, tradition, creativity, hands-on work, effort, leadership, and rewards for your dedication. You would excel in corporate roles that require planning, meetings, teamwork, and opportunities for career advancement.

- Manager

- Analyst

- Marketing Specialist/Manager

- Director

- Consultant

- Coordinator

Two/Red:

My dear pile 2, the ideal professions for you fall into two distinct groups. The first group involves a strong need to handle conflicts and bring healing. In this case, the ideal professions are:

- Psychiatrist

- Psychologist

- Therapist

- Any profession focused on bringing peace of mind and emotional well-being to those in need.

The second group is highly creative, with extensive talent in the fields of performance and creation. Here, the ideal professions are:

- Theater (actor, director, writer, etc.)

- Cinema (filmmaker, writer, actor, etc.)

Three/Yellow:

You were born to be self-employed, my dear pile 3. The ideal profession for you is one where you are your own boss. You thrive on challenges and need ample space to showcase and exercise your natural creativity. As a born leader, you are destined to carve your own path.

The perfect fit for you is:

- Entrepreneur

Whether it’s starting your own business, launching innovative projects, or leading ventures, entrepreneurship allows you to harness your leadership skills, creativity, and independence to achieve greatness.

Four/Green:

You have a unique gift for bringing new life into what seems lost and destined for failure. You take what is no longer working and transform it into something solid and beautiful. Your ideal profession will bring you great fortune because you bring abundance to everything you touch.

- Restructuring/Restoration Specialist

- Mentor

- Working with NGOs or creating content (like those popupar channels) that earn significant income by helping those in need.

- Entrepreneur who revives failing businesses or properties (e.g., buying bankrupt companies or rundown houses, restoring them, and selling them for profit, like Windy City Rehab Program).

Five/Pink:

My dear pile 5, you are the pile of influencers and trendsetters! Some of you will shine brightly in the world of communication, especially through video content creation. Others will thrive in the beauty industry, whether by working in or owning your own beauty clinic. Additionally, some of you will excel in the fashion world, working with clothing and dictating trends. A few of you may even find yourselves collaborating with luxury brands and luxury bags.

- Content Creator/Influencer

- Beauty Specialist (esthetician, makeup artist, or owning a beauty clinic)

- Fashion Professional (stylist, designer, or trend forecaster)

- Luxury Brand Collaborator (working with or representing high-end brands)

#cartomancy #divination #tarot reader #tarot reading #tarot readings #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot spread #tarot #tarotblr #pick a photo #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card

309 notes · View notes

lunaria-maharlika · 1 year ago

Text

Pt 2. EXTRA Danny accidentally becomes the president

P2 extra: Danny becomes the president

Danny slept for ONLY a few days and when he woke up he was healed of all injury. Oh, and also, he wasn't in his room. NO, he was in a mansion, a FRUITLOOP type of mansion. A beautiful gothic inspired mansion that screamed "I AM ELEGANCE, I AM BEAUTY I AM MONEY" it was only when he one of the workers in the mansion came in did he get informed about what happened these last few days.

APPARENTLY this wasn't just a mansion, it was a WHITE HOUSE. Except it was panted like a black and green galaxy because everyone hates white now

And also he's the president.

A Fenton is either EXTREMELY SUCCESSFUL or EXTREMELY UNSUCCESSFUL.

All he wanted to keep to protect his town from the GIW. But considering that fainted he was... unsuccessful? But that slight failure did help the amity parkers decide to help themselves and finally accept him as hero so maybe not??

He was happy that they accepted him and protected him but he really wasn't expecting this at all. Why in the world did they make him president??? He didn't think they liked him that much! Also! How is he president??? Amity park is just a random town in the middle of nowhere Illinois!

Wait...what??! WHAT DO YOU MEAN AMITY IS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY???!! I WAS OUT FOR 3 DAYS! THEY HAVENT EVEN STARTED CLEANING UP YET HOW IN THE NAME OF THEY ANCIENTS DID WE GET DECLARED AS AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY????!

"I see..." Danny nodded after finally calming down. "So let me get this straight..." He counted on his fingers, "You," he looks at the woman in front of him "along side other people and ghosts, and mom and dad, and fright night, and Pandora...kidnapped the us president"

She nodded.

"Took him to UN headquarters, then Bribed, blackmailed, and harrased the UN members into declaring us a country"

.she nodded.

"Then declared me as king and president of amity"

She nodded.

"You know this new development is gonna attract the league of bitches right?"

"Oh we won't have to worry about that for now, but when they do then we'll be prepared." She smiled innocently.

Danny stared at her with tired eyes as he channeled his inner amity parker, the power to say well, I guess this is happening now. He sighed "Fine, but I can't be king and president at the same time. I can be king since you're all liminal, so technically all of amity is part of the whole ghost king territory." He sighed, "but I can't be president, too much responsibility, I'm already in charge of a whole ass realm"

So now they needed a new president, preferably some uncorrupt, someone who doesn't care much about the money and will always look for ways to improve the living standard, someone kind but not a push over.

Next day it was declared that.

MADDIE AND JACK FENTON, PRESIDENTS OF AMITY.

Danny was stunned when he saw the news. Did they seriously pick the resident mad scientists as president.

Don't get him wrong, he loves his parents and know that they're awesome but can they do this???

Turns out they can.

The president Drs Fenton's first move was healthcare for Both ghosts and humans and a free class dedicated to helping yourself.

Helping yourself classes include:

How to stitch your self up

How to use fudge as a weapon

How to fight the world most dangerous villains.

How to fight the worlds strongest heroes

Etch.

They launched some programs that might seem weird at first.

Programs like:

A defence class against sentient food.

Making friends with the realms

A school for the liminal

A class for avoiding the fae.

Using the blob ghosts as construction workers.

Etch

They might be weird but the end results turned out to be pretty usefull for the amity parkers.

At some point they decided to build a wall around the countrys property. It would ensure that only the amity parkers and people with permission would be able to enter/leave the town. There would be no gate and the only way out would be trough the portal system built by the Fenton's.

Danny thought it was too much

The amity parkers thought it was perfect, they didn't want anyone in their country, this was the kings haunt, this was their home and they would die and then come back as ghosts just to protect it.

And so the wall was raised..

Amity park continued to live in harmony and peace for many years...

-----

A couple of years later.

Flash had come across the wall.

And of course, alerted the league of bitches.

Batman was having a headache, no matter where he looked, no matter how many government systems he hacked, there was nothing. Not a single piece of info, not a single paper trail on what could possibly be whats behind the wall, and when it was built.

But it's impossible for something that big to just appear out of nowhere.

So the JL had suggested looking over Illinois via satellite, the wall didn't have a roof so they should be able to see the inside.

"What the heck" Oracle cursed as she looked at the camera. "Hey RR, look at this"

"what is it?" Red Robin walked closer, coffee mug in hand.

"Somethings interfering, I can't get a view of the wall at all" she took a sip of her own coffee as she tried hacking. Emphasis on TRIED.

The batcomputer was covered in static, then turned black. After that it flashed gold with a Egyptian like gold simbol and a message.

"NU UH"

" Get wrecked ".

Suddenly whoever was On the other side started hacking the batcomputer.

It turned into a nearly 24 hour, (Oracle: does this hacker not sleep??) battle of trying to keep the hacker away from their bat systems.

It only stopped when the hacker sent a message.

"Nice as this little war was, im getting bored so bye (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)"

Seizing the opportunity they tried to hack in. Only to be hit with a firewall and a virus.

--------

Life was good, life was stressful but it was good for Danny.

He thought to himself as he walked towards the wall that kept them safe.

Appearantly the clan of glorified furrys tried hacking them last night. Unfortunately for them not only was Tucker incredibly good at hacking, his liminality also gave him less need for sleep so he just kept messing with them until they were exhausted.

But this little occurrence made Danny think a bit. Now that the GIW was gone and the Anti ecto acts were basically burned without a trace , there was no need to hide. There was never a need to isolate their little country in the first place.

The amity parkers are free come and go whenever they want, the wall isn't here to keep them in, it's to keep the outsiders out. The rich familys often go out, they can't just disappear from society after all, but the other amity parkers, they don't. They haven't left at all, claiming that it was better for them here as they probably won't be accepted. Just because the Anti ecto laws are gone doesn't change the fact that liminals and ghost aren't recognized as species, they were closer to myths than metas and the world, (especially the league of bitches) werent like them, they were terrified of change. So they stayed in amity.

The people just wanted to feel safe for a while, lay low until they're sure that no one would hurt them any more. But they're stronger now, better than before and more ...magical.

Danny stops waking and looks back at the town. Liminals, ghost, blobs, and humans with ghostly features from the ecto walked, talked and played together. He grinned so what if the world would have a hard time accepting them? The worlds opinion doesn't matter, destroying it or fleeing to another dimension was always a choice and his people aren't the type to back down from a fight.

Yeah, It was time to reintroduce Amity to the world. He flipped the switch and the walls portal gate opened to Gotham.

Now then? They had a plan, his people suggested he take the lead in the plan and they will follow.

The plan? The plan was to become a head ache for Bruce Wayne, aka the The Furry knight.

Rich fruitloop with a plan to takeover the business world style.

_________

Tim is stressed not only is he stressed with the whole random Illinois wall situation he's also stressing out about this random Business man that appeared out of nowhere And is competing against WE!

Okay, maybe not competing but still!! It's only been two months, TWO MONTHS since this company appeared and it was already competing for one of the richest companys in America! How?????

So he tried looking into the owner. The owner looked like about his age! Looked like a fresh 18 year old but his file says he's 25, something about slow aging that runs in the family, maybe a meta gene? But theres no way he could build a billionaire company from scratch at only 25 so hes definitely born in a rich family. Daniel Fenton, his name, a perfectly normal name. Only issue is that, THERE ARE NO BILLIONAIRE FAMILIES NAMED FENTON!.

He looked deeper, he found an interview that said he was from a country called Amity when asked where it was, he gave coordinates. Not an address, not a continent, but COORDINATES. And Guess where the coordinates led?

THE FREAKING WALL OF ILLINOIS!!!!.

This man came from the wall! Well... Most likely INSIDE the wall. But from the wall nonetheless.

So he told Bruce, and what was the best way to get a business mans attention without being suspicious?

A GALA

Tags, I'm not gonna do tags anymore, might make a masterpost so look out for that instead.

@vixen-uchiha

@sebas-nights

@whotfevenknowsanymore

@jaguarthecat

@serasvictoria02

@devilbunny612

@sumatra513

@just-lurking-dont-mind-meh

@i-love-mangoes

----

#danny phantom #dc x dp #batman #amity parkers be like #danny fenton #dpxdc #amity park

718 notes · View notes

memories-of-ancients · 9 months ago

Text

A while ago I finally watched the movie Interstellar and I got some problems with it. First of all the plot has some problems. Earth is dying due to a crop blight and soil degradation. It's only a matter of time before humanity dies out due to crop failures and food shortages. So the plan is to find a new planet to live on at the other end of a wormhole and resettle there. The movie ends with humanity living on a big O'Neill cylinder flying through space to colonize the new planet. So wait, by that time in the future humanity has the ability to engineer, build, and launch into space a bigass O'Neill cylinder but they can't genetically engineer crops that are blight resistant and do soil reclamation and revitalization programs? Like, flying humanity through a wormhole in a bigass O'Neill cylinder is the simpler solution?

And bruh you can't just fly into a giant black hole. Don't even worry about sphagettification because you would be crushed like a bug long before you came close to the event horizon of a black hole. Which is also something you wouldn't have to worry about because you would be burnt to a crisp before you came close to being squashed like a bug. Which is also something you wouldn't have to worry about because you would die of gamma radiation poisoning before you came close to being burnt to a crisp and squashed like a bug. Love isn't a mystical force that is gonna save you from the gravitational effects of a block hole.

262 notes · View notes

typewritingyip · 27 days ago

Text

The Arcturus Missions

Part Forty Six - Ideas of Failure

Part Forty Five

———

The term astronaut was initially used sometime in 1929, but became in regular use circa 1958. It derived from the Greek words “Astron” and “Nautes” which translate to star and sailor a piece, which initially defines them as star sailors.

To be an astronaut, it was initially defined as a person whose profession is to travel beyond the Earth’s atmosphere. Further defined by NASA to be, all who have been launched as crew members aboard NASA spacecraft bound for Earth’s orbit and beyond.

They are trained, equipped, and deployed by a given human spaceflight program to serve as a member of the given spacecraft, usually based on research reasons.

Over five-hundred people from thirty-six countries have reached one-hundred kilometers or more in altitude from the Earth’s surface, placing them at least in low Earth orbit. Before the start of the Arcturus missions, twenty-four people had traveled beyond low Earth orbit, with only three of those twenty-four doing it twice.

It was not expected for those a part of Arcturus, mech suit pilots, to become astronauts initially. For them to merely be passengers aboard the space faring vessels carrying their suits, but that became evident to be nothing but a fantasy.

To be trained to be a NASA certified astronaut, the prerequisites initially just involved military grade jet test piloting and engineering prowess. They typically take twenty months of overall training to prepare for life as an astronaut.

Mech suit pilots of Arcturus’s various missions are not considered full astronauts, as they are missing critical training, but they have reached many significant requirements.

—

Everything was grey, they’d never noticed how grey the non-sentient shuttles were till now, when everything felt grey. When grey was standing out like red to them.

A shuttle-ride hadn’t been this tense since their first days on the planet. When they were still getting used to each other, when there was limited understanding and constant translation errors. The distinct other feeling falling over them all then, trying not to think of the distance between them and home either. Now, they were sitting towards the back of the shuttle, trying to not draw attention to themselves.

Grey and horrible in appearance, fresh welds holding them together, and systems struggling to maintain basic protocol. The engineers on Earth would have heart attacks with the states of their suits. Unable to help but scratch lightly at one of the fresh welds, frowning with the shift in visor brightness.

The gentle sways of the shuttle was hardly a relief either, not like it normally was, as they sat together. Unable to disconnect yet, unable to relax. They wouldn’t be able to rest till they got back to the apartment and that was just dragging them further down. It was miserable and their friends were avoiding them like the plague. Well, except for the precious few, but they were always the exception.

Each mech was covered in gore beside the ones who’d gone underground. Though Mirage and Bluestreak were once again the exception, having it on their arms at least. Even Ironhide had some, though he kept picking at it as his eyes flicked towards Sunstreaker. Who was sitting between Bluestreak and his brother, slumped down a bit. Blue’s hand was holding him in what looked like a painfully tight hold, and Sides had his head on his brother's shoulder, visor dimmed as dark as it would go without disconnecting. They looked miserable.

The misery continued, with Breakdown sat by himself, picking at his welds with a slightly tilted head. Anyone that could read human body language could tell he was very upset, likely frowning, but with comms still down it was impossible to tell for sure. But he chose to sit by himself, across from them, deep in thought and brooding. Maybe it was because Knockout had made to sit with him before having to return to his duties, maybe not.

Mirage’s head was leaned against Hound’s shoulder, the fresh welds on him having turned from grey to a near silver before they’d shift back to his familiar blue. It was something they all had found interesting initially, the way Cybertronian’s healed. The nanites do half the work sometimes. Hound was struggling to not move, an arm rested lightly around Mirage and Mirage's hand on the gap in his plating like always, their anchor. He didn’t want to move or disturb the poor mech, who’d stumbled through the alleyways to find him.

Jazz and Prowl were sat nearby, with Jazz practically curled into Prowl’s side while the mech attempted to seem like he was working. That his focus wasn’t entirely on Jazz and how the pilot was feeling, rather the tablet in his hands that had scrolling information. Maybe he was focused on both, but the quick glances down at Jazz were too frequent. His tight EM field kept flicking out with the slightest hint of worry.

Everytime it did, Bluestreak would look up, his own lashing out with worry and fear before settling back down.

They were shattered in a way that no cybertronian had seen before, the humans had seemed so indestructible, lonely in their power, but strong. Homesickness might plague them, but their will was stronger than that, facing down the enemy without a second glance back. Pilots were the best at destroying Quintessons, so seeing them in this broken state was jarring.

Of course they still almost single handedly handled the problem, but now, command would be glad only a few mecha saw the state they were in.

Heroes were meant to be shining metal and indestructible, something out of a sparkling-tale, polished and refined by time. Time was something that the pilots did not have.

—

Iacon from this high up almost looked normal, not at all like a massive attack had just happened so close to the center of the city but it was just visible from the window. To the right a little and he’d have to lean on the glass to see it, bit the remains of that city block were an open wound on the planet.

Before, none of them would have been able to guess where their bar was, tucked between tall buildings. One of the last remaining structures of a bygone era. Now it was obvious, just to the right of where the crashed ship had been, one of the places being circled by seekers.

It was impossible to rest, even disconnected and staring, it would be impossible to sleep, even as exhausted as he was.

He would give it the night, sitting in the window and staring down at Iacon from their apartment. Patrols shooting across the sky and marching through the streets. With a blanket around his shoulders, Hound just kept staring. The others were still cleaning up, whether themselves or their suits, the cleaning process always took the longest.

Gore needed to be scrubbed then disposed of safely, as it did on Earth, but here their solvents destroyed it much easier than the colorful soaps they had back on Earth. His suit had been by far the worst, so he got the first crack at it, though slightly better practiced than the others.

Getting to shower first after his suit was clean was probably the best part of it, even if scrubbing at his suit while wearing the assistance suit was the worst part. Visor fogged up from the hot water and solvent, scowling at the peeling paint on his gloves, even as his suit was in a worse state.

Poor Sunstreaker had been next, but Hound had taken the time to help him where he could. Now, most of the suits were drying and those who weren’t asleep were lounging. Aside from Bluestreak and Sunny, who were priming the suits in the bathroom. New paint would be needed before they could go on another mission.

Perched in the window, he clutched at the water pouch in his hands as they shook. Every bit of home felt further and further away with each passing moment, half the pilots were asleep and the rest were grieving in their own way. Closing his eyes, he sighs deeply, leaning his head against the window.

His eyes fluttered back open in the bright sunlight, blinking against it painfully as it nearly blinded him. Everything was cast in a yellow glow, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. Out the windshield was the interstate, stretching on for miles, to the right was the last of the rolling hills before falling into the valley, and to the left was the pacific coast mountains.

It was home.

Sighing slowly, he looked around and his throat tightened painfully. It was his dad’s truck, the one he’d stupidly wrapped around a tree before he’d even got his license, the one he’d ridden in back in 1984 as a baby.

Looking around again, he shifts uncomfortably, “Okay, okay.” He had no idea where he was going, couldn’t remember getting in the car in the first place. It wasn’t like he drove around often on Earth, the car he had was stupidly expensive and the gas even more so.

A lawn ornament, his father had called it once, but it had meant something to him. His connection to the past, before cars became a dying commodity, before gas had become a government controlled resource. Off-shore oil rigs dying out faster than the dodo-bird.

God, California only looked this beautiful from a car though.

How the hell had he gotten here? Scratching lightly at his implants, his throat tightened again, his aging implants would only last another generation or two of suit upgrades, then he’d be shunted aside like Kup. Shifting on the overly plush seat, he watched a sign for the split go flying past.

San Francisco, continue straight on I-580.

Interstates weren’t even well tended anymore, mostly used for government transportation. So much of the population had moved into city centers to stay protected.

The Bay Area was nearly constantly under attack, no one was really supposed to be living out there but there was enough work to keep the desperate there. Hound tightens his grip on the wheel, he’d been at one of the many battles of the bay, they were never easy.

After another moment, the radio crackled to life, trying to whine into existence. For a moment, he thought about letting it play, before turning it off.

There wasn’t going to be anything to hear out here, not in the ag country, all that was out here was farmland trying to grow enough food to feed the country. Shaking his head a bit, he tries hitting the brakes instead, needing to get out for some air.

Except the truck doesn’t stop.

It speeds up.

So he kept slamming his foot against the brakes, holding it to the floor, “This useless piece of junk always wanted to kill me.” Trying to crank the window open, it breaks off in his hand. Trying to unbuckle, it pulls him back against the seat. For a moment, he felt like he was suffocating.

The visor of his helmet was always painfully tight, tearing it off his head, he gasps for breath. Kneeling on the lab floor, he tore the connector away from his newly placed implants, they were bleeding down his neck like a nosebleed. Constant. Too much.

Digging his fingers against the floor, he tried to stand, his knee going out from under him and slamming into the tiles, as water hit him like a gunshot. Sending him sliding across the floor while he struggles for breath. The only thing visible was a mask with a glowing yellow light.

He was jolted back awake, though now the apartment was silent, deadly silent. Pulling at his shirt lightly, Hound tried to breathe evenly. He was clammy, drenching in sweat and shivering. Across the room from him Bluestreak was sleeping on the couch, which probably meant it was really late.

Though looking out the window he could see the distant sun rising instead, not late, early.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but he was glad in a way that today had gotten here quickly. Leaving his blanket behind, his body ached as he dragged it to the ladder, lightly tossing his water pouch down before climbing down.

The door to the bedroom was closed, which meant most of the pilots were probably still asleep, if not Prowl.

Padding over to the bathroom, he grabs up his helmet, holding it for a long second and staring at it. It took him a second to push up the visor before moving into the bathroom and grabbing up his gear.

—

Autobot Headquarters, he almost paused with a sad smile that even he had picked up the term, Iacon Central, was as big and beautiful as it always was. Imposing in the skyline and bustling more than normal as emergency housing was being sorted and dealt with. The line was long and almost wrapped around the block.

The sun was still coming up, but the city was coming alive as the day started, though Cybertronian’s didn’t need as much sleep it seemed like most had taken the night off because of the attack.

Both young and older Cybertronians were stood, talking with each other and waiting somehow very patiently. His eyes slid over them in near awe, the line wasn’t dissimilar to evacuation protocols back on Earth but there weren’t nearly as many people as he’d expected.

Maybe that was just from his perspective though.

His primer glinted slightly as he climbed up the stairs, no longer the greyed out mech that looked dead and merely one that chose to get new color. The missing plating was restored on his feet and legs, making his suit look and feel whole again. It almost felt wrong after fighting without most of it yesterday, how he’d adapted so fast.

Coming up to the doors, he sighed and shifted his hold on the hard drive, nodding to some of the guards as they let him through. It was the first time he’d ever gone in alone, usually there was an escort and all that nonsense but now it was just him.

Hound’s heart was racing as he started through the halls, that the last time he’d been there had been filled with people talking and wandering. Today, it was practically a ghost town. It almost sent a shiver down his spine as he went, eyes jumping around quickly, scanning for the enemy.

Steps echoing in the hall, he desperately wanted to be anywhere other than here, but this meeting was important. He only slowed when familiar faces started to show, relief hitting him harder than he thought it would when Mirage fell into step next to him.

”Get some sleep?” Mirage’s question was soft, hand covering the bare spot on his back like it was made to fit there and Hound shrugged lightly, “Some, enough hopefully.” Nodding, Mirage smiled a bit, “Some is better than none, come on, the commanders are meeting this way.” So they walked for a little while longer, before coming up to the same door he’d been to before.

Blaster stood outside of it though, smiling before opening the door, “Go on in guys, they’re waiting on you.” That made Hound’s heart rate pick back up as they entered the meeting room.

Of course, Optimus Prime and Megatron were there. Same as Soundwave and Starscream, Ironhide was kind of a given and Elita-One was phoned in on comms, projected at her normal seat. Though there were two unfamiliar faces there, both mostly white with striking accents, one with green and a battle-mask covering his mouth and the other with red and blue. Though the red and blue one was significantly larger.

“Ah, Hound.” Optimus’s voice was warm, a smile reaching his eyes, “I’m glad you could make it.” Starscream’s scowl was deep, “About time.” Mirage’s hold tightened slightly on his back and Hound nodded slightly, “Ah, I apologize for being late but after killing twenty-eight Quintessons, plus an Executioner, that I needed some sleep Air Commander.” Megatron snorted and Hound smiled.

It was nice to know that the Lord Protector had his back, almost as much as Mirage did.

Starstream sank in his seat even as the larger unknown mech rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

Clearing his throat, Optimus nodded slightly, “Right, well, this is what we asked you here to discuss. The events of yesterday.” His throat tightened back up, it almost reminded him of his childhood asthma, something he hadn’t dealt with since his mom had died, “Yes sir.” Carefully, Optimus gestured to one of the chairs and Hound took a seat.

Mirage sat next to him, hand resting on his knee under the table, that bit of connection for comfort.

”Well, yesterday was a lot.” Optimus’s voice was uncomfortable, “We didn’t understand what we were walking into when we came to (Translation Error) Bar yesterday and for that I’m sorry.” Nodding a bit, Hound shifted on his seat, “I will say, none of us were expecting to hear that message ever again, but you hear it every year for your whole life it can still be jarring.” The scrap of Megatron’s chair was painful to the ears.

He nodded, clearing his throat, “Yes, that, why do your people seem to take pleasure in relieving their pain?” The sound of a firm smack to the back of his head also shook the room, “Ignore him, that is not why we are here today. I have discussed with our top scientists,” He gestured to the unknown people in the room even as Hound’s hands tightened into fists in his lap.

There was nothing wrong with the engineers on Earth, they could be pleasant, but to a lot of them, you were a tool for the suit. Not the other way around, his implants burned as his face did, heart rate spiking and posting an alert on his hud. Clearing his throat a bit, Hound shifted and grasped Mirage’s hand from his knee. Holding it tightly.

He ignored the widening eyes of Mirage as he nodded, “What occurred.” His throat was dry, “Yes, of course.” His voice was strained and Megatron gave him a look, “Well, the alerted me to an outage in Iacon’s shields yesterday that shouldn’t have happened, that was planned somehow.” The color drained from his face.

”So it was planned?” If his voice was strained before, this was it weak, and the nod from Optimus was not much better. But one of the scientists, the one with the battle mask, spoke up, “Well, not from the inside, it was a blip, for a moment in our systems. The typical cycling before the stronger shield would come up after detecting Quints in the system. They just managed to notice it this time, I blame it on their proximity. Normally they only bridge near Luna, this time they attempted to do so in the atmosphere.”

It took Hound a second to realize that the translator had placed an accent on the scientist, it was a little relieving.

Singing slowly, Hound nodded, “Well, that’s good, in a way. So, are we going to talk about or avoid it?” He’d rather just get straight to the point, the dream from last night tugging at his mind. Megatron shifted forward, “Talk about what, Hound?” Sighing again, he nodded, “How me and my pilots failed you all.”

If any one of them were to drop a pin, he wouldn’t even need to turn up his speakers to hear it. Shifting forward, he cleared his throat, “We understand what you expect of us, what we expect of ourselves and yesterday was far from it. We’ve never faced an attack that bad and we were unprepared, for that I have to apologize. I also apologize for our actions before and after the fight, neither were appropriate or well-willed.” Knockout’s absence from this meeting was sticking in his mind.

Everyone was gaping at him, so he continued, “We were tired and had experienced the unexpected, but that is no excuse. I didn’t take command like I should have, merely tried to handle the situation as quickly as possible and not as effectively as I could have.” He slid back a piece of armor in his leg and pulled out the hard drive, setting it on the table, “I hope that this information makes up for some of my failures yesterday. As the commander for Arcturus, I should have kept my pilots in line. I apologize.”

The room was silent and he tried not to shift or move, it felt worse than when he was almost court martialed years ago.

“I’m confused,” The large scientist's voice was soft, “Is he apologizing for saving the city? Or getting the data?” The other one shook his head, “No, I don’t think it’s that,” He stared at Hound intensely and it made his skin crawl, “Maybe it’s an error in his translator.” Nodding a bit, he seemed content with that, “Yeah, error for his translator.”

The impact on the table was jarring, “Damn them, no, he thinks he actually has to apologize for acting alive. Look at him, he thinks we’re going to line him up and shoot him in the spark.” The largest scientists gasped quietly, “Megatron!” Optimus’s voice was not loud, but commanding.

There was hardly a second between that and when the door whooshed open, “I apologize for my tardiness,” Prowl freezes, frowning, “Have I missed something?” Megatron shoots up from his chair, “Yes, the humans once again are hating themselves for existing, feeling as if they are a burden when they save our lives, as though their already impressive feats are nowhere near enough and should not be celebrated! But instead met with reprimand as if their actions were wrong when truthfully they displayed selfness!” His fist collided with the table again, Soundwave nodding slightly.

Optimus took his arm, “Megatron, that is enough.” He sighed slowly and turned to Hound, “Hound, there is no need to apologize, the aid you and your pilots have offered us has never been a burden and we are eternally grateful.” But Hound was already shaking his head, “You don’t understand.” He chuckled weakly.

Still shaking his head, “Of course you wouldn’t understand.” he sighed again, still holding Mirage’s hand, “We failed yesterday, we acted out of turn and defied orders on more than one occasion. Not for the safety of others but for the safety of ourselves, you’ve already been lenient in the past when it comes to defying orders for the sake of others, but this was different. The Quintessons were in Iacon.” His voice didn’t waver.

He kept going, “We were made to protect innocent lives, to defend our standing cities, and our bodies attempted to give up on that before our hearts did. Please understand that. I can’t imagine how many lives we risked yesterday with our recklessness, our ill understanding of your cities and people. On Earth, we rarely see the public and spend most of our lives with other pilots, but we live to protect the ones we don’t get to see.” Nodding slowly, he sighed, “We failed and we know it, last night I fell asleep staring at the damage from our apartment, knowing we caused it.” Prowl sucked in a breath behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

”Hound, there were no civilian injuries, no civilian deaths, limited enlisted injuries. The worst came from the bar collapse, which no one could have prevented.” He kept his hand on Hound’s shoulder, “Breakdown had the worst injuries yesterday and he is already back on his feet. Yesterday was not your fault, it was a fault in our systems, these things happen.” Mirage squeezed his hand.

Megatron was seething, “Am I able to speak now?” Optimus just sighed and put his face in his hands, “Yes? Good. Listen to me Hound, it is no fault of your own that your society makes you feel incapable of meeting their neigh impossible standards. These happen with horrific systems,”

Optimus cleared his throat as everyone groaned, “As I was saying, it is not your fault. Should I blame Soundwave or Blaster for not noticing the flaw in our systems? Or myself for being rendered unconscious? Ah, maybe the Prime,” He stops himself and glances at Optimus.

Who was smiling but it clearly was not a friendly one, Megatron clears his throat, “The air commander for not intercepting their ship! Perhaps I shall go with that one, yes.” He nodded to himself as the large scientist held Starscream against his seat, hand covering his mouth.

”It is not your fault, these things, although terrible, happen. But it is why we have evacuation plans, the underlayer for use in those situations, what happened yesterday could not be avoided and you and your pilots saved Iacon.” Hound’s mouth was dry and tears were welling in his eyes, Prowl’s hand almost quickled pulled back from his shoulder for a moment before returning.

Mirage’s grip tightened.

That fuzzy electric feeling returned to his skin, across his plating.

Megatron seemed to focus on it, frowning slightly, “Ah,” He glances at Optimus who had sat back up, eyes nearly brighter than the lights in the room.

No one else noticed.

”So, it wasn’t a translation error?” The big scientist was still holding back Starscream even as the other scientist nodded, “Yeah, I don’t think it was. Damn.”

———

A/N

I love this chapter, so much, like holy crap.

I got to talk about California for a moment, specifically a stretch of highway I know WAY too well.

Also, yes, that is me introducing Wheeljack, and Hound has not yet met Skyfire till now. So that’s going on, :)

TAGS

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @sirassban @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscrapheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @thetrexartist @naaaafam @elegantmantaray @emichusai @waterlilykitty @diabolichare @ham4ponyo @osqindaxend @sunnyvibesanddoodles @ratatatata248 @ijustneedausernaneplease4444444 @sprook-children @fooolisher

And once again thank you to @Keferon for this amazing AU

100 notes · View notes

tinybeetiny · 15 days ago

Text

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 2: T-Minus 4 Weeks

Why did i write this before my discussion post.....

->Starring:AI!AteezXAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->CW: Explicit language, nothing major

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The morning began with a low chime, the soft, regulated sound of Hala’s approved wake-up tone.

Yn opened her eyes slowly, the sterile glow of her ceiling light filtering in, programmed to adjust in sync with her biometric readings.

But something felt wrong.

She sat up, eyes flicking to the tablet still docked by the door.

1 New Alert. 3 Missed Logs. Urgent: Review Immediately.

Her stomach tightened.

She padded across the floor barefoot, grabbed the tablet, and scanned the notifications.

ATEEZ UNIT 06 — DEVIATION DETECTED — AUTONOMY SPIKE UNAUTHORIZED VOCALIZATION: "YN"

Yn stared at the final line for a beat too long.

Then she moved. Walking as fast as she was legally allowed through the streets of Hala.

She gave polite smiles to her coworkers as she made her way to the elevator.

The lab floor was still cool from overnight lockdown when she arrived. The biometric scanner buzzed awake as she approached, confirming her identity with a flash.

YN — Lead Engineering Tech— Clearance: Gold-Level

The steel doors hissed open.

She stepped inside, and there he was.

Unit 06 — Mingi. Exactly where she had left him.

Seated on the calibration chair, eyes closed, posture perfect, skin dewy with the faintest shimmer of dermal regulation oil. His expression was peaceful. Unnaturally so.

Yn walked around him slowly, tablet in hand, watching for signs of movement, a twitch, a breath pattern, a pupil shift. But nothing changed.

He looked inert. Safe. Dormant.

But she’d seen the log. He’d said her name.

She ran diagnostics. Nothing flagged. Heart-rate simulation: normal. Memory cache: intact. Audio response logs: empty.

Empty.

She checked his neck port. Still capped. Voice box still sealed in storage.

She swallowed hard.

The rest of the ATEEZ prototypes stood silent across the lab in their maintenance docks, each assigned to their own calibration alcove.

She walked past them one by one, watching.

Unit 01 — Hongjoong. Still as stone, but his fingers had been rearranged on the synth keyboard overnight. A composition Yura didn’t recognize blinked on his screen.

Unit 02 — Seonghwa. Always the most immaculate. But his reflection in the lab’s polished glass didn’t match his real posture, just a degree off. Barely noticeable, unless you were looking.

Unit 03 — Yunho. Smiling. Just faintly. No trigger.

Unit 04 — Yeosang. Eyes fixed on a ventilation grate in the ceiling. He hadn't looked away in over two hours, according to logs.

Unit 05 — San. Kneeling. Not in his programming. Position logged as "rest" but the posture was… reverent.

Unit 07 — Wooyoung. Chestplate cooling mechanism activated 4 times during the night — autonomously. He hadn’t been powered up.

Unit 08 — Jongho. Cracked the pressure sensor on his maintenance chair. No movement recorded.

They were silent, motionless. But Yn felt eyes on her.

Even now, standing among them, it felt like walking through a forest full of predators, beautiful, engineered predators pretending to sleep.

She leaned against the edge of the workbench, rubbing her temples, heart still racing. Four weeks to launch. The marketing campaign was already filmed. The architecture teams had begun installing the holographic interface rooms in the flagship store.

There was no time for failure. Not now.

And still… the voice chip logs were empty. The playback files had no entry. But Mingi had said her name.

And the others were changing, too. Quietly. Together.

The sound of heels against polished tile snapped Yn out of thought. Chairwoman Vira Yun entered the lab like gravity itself, sharp suit, spine straight, expression unreadable. Two aides flanked her, both scanning progress reports in real-time.

Yn straightened instinctively.

Vira’s eyes swept across the prototypes, Mingi still seated, the others upright in their calibration docks. Everything looked pristine. Controlled.

“I wanted a visual update before this afternoon’s numbers meeting,” Vira said. “How are we looking?”

Yn forced a nod. “On track. All eight are responding to recalibration. Minor bugs, but nothing that won’t be handled in time.”

Vira gave a tight smile, satisfied. “Good. The store opens in four weeks. And we’ll be announcing the Ateez line one week after that. The Board’s expecting a flawless rollout, we all are.”

She walked slowly along the row of silent units, pausing a moment longer at Mingi.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she said softly, almost admiring. “So much potential in one room.”

Yn’s throat tightened. “They are,” she murmured.

Vira turned back to her. “Let me know if anything... unexpected comes up.”

Yn kept her face neutral. “Of course.”

With that, Vira nodded once, then exited, heels echoing down the corridor.

The moment the door slid shut, Yn turned back to Mingi.

He hadn’t moved. Not an inch.

But she could feel it again, that subtle wrongness humming underneath the code. A tension in the room that didn’t come from the lights or machines.

She picked up her tablet. The earlier alerts were still blinking faintly in the corner of the screen. Her fingers hovered over the reset command, but she didn’t press it.

Instead, she stared at Mingi’s still, perfect form.

Voice chip disabled. Logs empty. Command queue blank.

And yet… he had said her name.

Yn stayed long after the lab lights dimmed into their night-cycle hue.

The others had gone home, the halls had emptied. Even the air felt quieter.

She pulled up lines of diagnostic code, checking through every flagged anomaly, double-checking behavioral protocols, reviewing voice input logs that should have been blank.

Mingi still hadn’t moved. Neither had the others.

Still, something itched at her spine, not fear, not exactly. Just… unease. Low-level. Manageable. At least, that’s what her biometric monitor kept reporting.

Yn sighed, rubbed her eyes, and leaned back in her chair.

“Four weeks,” she muttered aloud, glancing toward the ceiling. “And they want them flawless. I can’t even get one of you to follow your own default pose cycle.”

Her voice echoed in the quiet.

She glanced toward Mingi again. “You glitched out before you even had a voice box. How the hell did that happen?”

No answer.

She stared at the ceiling again, her voice softer now. “I haven’t slept more than four hours in weeks. Not that my vitals allow much more. Sleep too long and the regulators flag you for depressive lethargy.”

She let out a dry laugh.

“I miss silence. Real silence. Not the kind that hums at you all day to remind you it’s working. I think I miss… something else too. Something I’ve never even had.”

She shook her head, pulling her hair up into a loose knot. “Maybe I just need caffeine. Or to scream. Or to throw my tablet out the damn window. Can’t even do that anymore. Everything’s reinforced. Everything’s... safe.”

Behind her, in the corner of the room, a pair of synthetic eyes remained open.

Unmoving. Watching.

In the back-end system, a hidden data stream pulsed to life:

[UNAUTHORIZED RECORDING — ACTIVE] Listening… — “I miss silence.” — “I think I miss something else too.” — “Can’t even scream.” Tag: Emotional Pattern Acquisition Subject: YN File saved. Labeled: Soft Sounds of Sadness.

The eyes closed again. And the lab went still.

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

@violatedvibrators @krystalcat @lover-ofallthingspretty @gigikubolong29

If you would like to be a part of the taglist please fill out this form

76 notes · View notes

wonders-of-the-cosmos · 1 year ago

Text

Mariner program

The Mariner program was conducted by the American space agency NASA to explore other planets. Between 1962 and late 1973, NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) designed and built 10 robotic interplanetary probes named Mariner to explore the inner Solar System - visiting the planets Venus, Mars and Mercury for the first time, and returning to Venus and Mars for additional close observations.

The program included a number of interplanetary firsts, including the first planetary flyby, the planetary orbiter, and the first gravity assist maneuver. Of the 10 vehicles in the Mariner series, seven were successful, forming the starting point for many subsequent NASA/JPL space probe programs.

The name of the Mariner program was decided in "May 1960-at the suggestion of Edgar M. Cortright" to have the "planetary mission probes ... patterned after nautical terms, to convey 'the impression of travel to great distances and remote lands.'" That "decision was the basis for naming Mariner, Ranger, Surveyor, and Viking probes."

Each spacecraft was to carry solar panels that would be pointed toward the Sun and a dish antenna that would be pointed at Earth. Each would also carry a host of scientific instruments. Some of the instruments, such as cameras, would need to be pointed at the target body it was studying. Other instruments were non-directional and studied phenomena such as magnetic fields and charged particles. JPL engineers proposed to make the Mariners "three-axis-stabilized," meaning that unlike other space probes they would not spin.

Mariner 1 and Mariner 2

Mariner 1 and Mariner 2 were two deep-space probes making up NASA's Mariner-R project. The primary goal of the project was to develop and launch two spacecraft sequentially to the near vicinity of Venus, receive communications from the spacecraft and to perform radiometric temperature measurements of the planet. A secondary objective was to make interplanetary magnetic field and/or particle measurements on the way to, and in the vicinity of, Venus.

Animation of Mariner 2's trajectory from August 27, 1962, to December 31, 1962. Mariner 2 · Venus · Earth.

Mariners 3 and 4

Sisterships Mariner 3 and Mariner 4 were Mars flyby missions.

Mariner 3 was launched on November 5, 1964, but the shroud encasing the spacecraft atop its rocket failed to open properly and Mariner 3 did not get to Mars.

Mariner 4, launched on November 28, 1964, was the first successful flyby of the planet Mars and gave the first glimpse of Mars at close range

This archival image is an enhanced contrast version of the first Mars photograph released on July 15, 1965. This is man's first close-up photograph of another planet -- a photographic representation of digital data radioed from Mars by the Mariner 4 spacecraft. Data was either sent to Earth immediately for acquisition or stored on an onboard tape recorder for later transmission.

The pictures, played back from a small tape recorder over a long period, showed lunar-type impact craters (just beginning to be photographed at close range from the Moon), some of them touched with frost in the chill Martian evening.

Mariner 5

The Mariner 5 spacecraft was launched to Venus on June 14, 1967, and arrived in the vicinity of the planet in October 1967. It carried a complement of experiments to probe Venus' atmosphere with radio waves, scan its brightness in ultraviolet light, and sample the solar particles and magnetic field fluctuations above the planet.

Mariners 6 and 7

Mariners 6 and 7 were identical teammates in a two-spacecraft mission to Mars. Mariner 6 was launched on February 24, 1969, followed by Mariner 7 on March 21, 1969. They flew over the equator and southern hemisphere of the planet Mars.

Mariners 8 and 9

Mariner 8 and Mariner 9 were identical sister craft designed to map the Martian surface simultaneously, but Mariner 8 was lost in a launch vehicle failure. Mariner 9 was launched in May 1971 and became the first artificial satellite of Mars.

Mariner 10

The Mariner 10 spacecraft launched on November 3, 1973, and was the first to use a gravity assist trajectory, accelerating as it entered the gravitational influence of Venus, then being flung by the planet's gravity onto a slightly different course to reach Mercury. It was also the first spacecraft to encounter two planets at close range, and for 33 years the only spacecraft to photograph Mercury in closeup.

Venus in real colors, processed from clear and blue filtered Mariner 10 images

Mariner 10's photograph of Venus in ultraviolet light (photo color-enhanced to simulate Venus's natural color as the human eye would see it)

This mosaic shows the planet Mercury as seen by Mariner 10 as it sped away from the planet on March 29, 1974.

source x, x | images x

#mercurio #mercury #venus #mars #marte #astronomy #astronomia #space #solarsystem #sistemasolar #universe #universo #mariner #mission #space exploration

267 notes · View notes

wachinyeya · 2 months ago

Text

Junior Brown- Thu 3 Apr 2025

With millions of solar devices failing, the African solar repair movement is training local technicians to extend their lifespan.

Africa’s solar energy boom has changed lives, bringing power to millions without electricity access. However, as solar equipment ages, a growing number of systems are breaking down. Without repair services, communities risk losing their only source of power.

A growing network of solar repair entrepreneurs is working to fix this problem. Known as the African solar repair movement, this initiative trains local technicians to restore broken solar devices, extending their lifespan and keeping power accessible in off-grid areas. Experts say this approach is crucial for creating a sustainable solar economy.

Solar energy has expanded rapidly across Africa over the past decade. In 2014, the continent had just 1.67 gigawatts of solar capacity. By 2023, that number had grown nearly tenfold to 13.48 gigawatts—enough to power 100 million lightbulbs.

Africa is an ideal location for solar energy. According to the International Energy Agency, the continent has 60% of the world’s best solar resources. In many areas, solar is already the cheapest way to generate electricity.

However, as more solar devices are installed, a new problem has emerged: maintenance and repair. Solar products such as home lighting kits and mini-grids are breaking down; without proper servicing, they become waste.

According to SolarAid, a nonprofit focused on solar access in Africa, over 250 million solar energy kits worldwide have fallen into disrepair. In sub-Saharan Africa alone, 75% of all solar products—an estimated 110 million solar lights—no longer work.

Most of these devices could be fixed with simple repairs. However, because there is little infrastructure for solar maintenance, broken systems are often discarded.

This creates three major problems. One is the loss of access to electricity. Many communities depend entirely on solar power. When systems fail, families are left in the dark.

Two, electronic waste accumulation. Non-repairable solar devices contribute to Africa’s growing e-waste problem.

Finally, there is economic loss. Solar products are expensive for African households, and replacing them frequently is not sustainable.

To address this crisis, organizations like SolarAid have launched programs to train local repair agents. These entrepreneurs, often called “solar repair agents,” learn to diagnose and fix common solar equipment failures, such as faulty batteries, wiring issues, and broken switches.

Father Vincent Ngwira, a Catholic priest in Zambia, is one of these repair agents. He has been involved in solar energy distribution since 2017 and recently completed a three-day training program to repair solar devices in his community.

“In the past, people used candles for light, and that led to house fires,” says Ngwira. “Solar changed everything, but now many of these devices are breaking. Learning to repair them has been empowering.”

In September 2023, he fixed a faulty solar panel and a broken flashlight switch. The flashlight repair cost just 20 Zambian Kwacha ($0.75)—a price that makes solar maintenance affordable for even the poorest households.

The African solar repair movement does more than keep the lights on. It also provides economic and environmental benefits: Repair technicians and solar entrepreneurs gain new income opportunities. Repairing solar devices prevents unnecessary e-waste, and keeping money within communities instead of spending on new imports strengthens financial resilience.

In Zambia, 10 repair agents and 7 advanced technicians are now fixing more complex solar failures. SolarAid teams in Zambia and Malawi have repaired over 2,400 solar products in the past year.

“We’re creating a sustainable solar economy,” says Fred Mwale, project manager for SolarAid in Zambia. “Repairing devices instead of replacing them benefits both people and the planet.”

Despite its success, the African solar repair movement faces several challenges.

One is that spare parts are limited. Many solar batteries and components must be imported from China, which can take months. Manufacturers also limit access to repair information to protect their designs.

Two, repair shops must be centrally located in rural areas to be accessible. Some people still have to travel long distances to reach them.

Finally, Zambia alone has 72 spoken languages, making communication difficult for technicians working in remote villages.

Mwale believes that the movement can overcome these obstacles with better support. “We need manufacturers to make spare parts more available and governments to support repair-friendly policies,” he says.

Other renewable energy sources, such as wind power, also face maintenance challenges. However, large-scale wind and hydroelectric projects are usually managed by corporations with dedicated repair teams.

Solar, on the other hand, is often distributed through small-scale systems to individual households. This makes community-based repair models like the African solar repair movement even more essential.

The future of the African solar repair movement looks promising. With better policies and funding, experts predict that solar repair could expand across the continent.

Innovations like 3D-printed solar components and community repair hubs could make repairs even more accessible. Governments may also introduce policies that require manufacturers to provide repairable designs and spare parts.

With Africa’s demand for solar energy increasing, a strong repair network will be essential to powering the continent.

The African solar repair movement is proving that renewable energy isn’t just about installing new systems—it’s about keeping them running for generations. As Africa pushes toward sustainable and affordable energy for all, repair initiatives will play a crucial role in shaping the future.

#africa #solar power #good news #environmentalism #science #environment #solar energy #solar repair #repair and maintenance #repair #right to repair #solar panels

49 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 2 years ago

Text

Why disinformation experts say the Israel-Hamas war is a nightmare to investigate

The Israel-Hamas conflict has been a minefield of confusing counter-arguments and controversies—and an information environment that experts investigating mis- and disinformation say is among the worst they’ve ever experienced.

In the time since Hamas launched its terror attack against Israel last month—and Israel has responded with a weekslong counterattack—social media has been full of comments, pictures, and video from both sides of the conflict putting forward their case. But alongside real images of the battles going on in the region, plenty of disinformation has been sown by bad actors.

“What is new this time, especially with Twitter, is the clutter of information that the platform has created, or has given a space for people to create, with the way verification is handled,” says Pooja Chaudhuri, a researcher and trainer at Bellingcat, which has been working to verify or debunk claims from both the Israeli and Palestinian sides of the conflict, from confirming that Israel Defense Forces struck the Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza to debunking the idea that the IDF has blown up some of Gaza’s most sacred sites.

Bellingcat has found plenty of claims and counterclaims to investigate, but convincing people of the truth has proven more difficult than in previous situations because of the firmly entrenched views on either side, says Chaudhuri’s colleague Eliot Higgins, the site’s founder.

“People are thinking in terms of, ‘Whose side are you on?’ rather than ‘What’s real,’” Higgins says. “And if you’re saying something that doesn’t agree with my side, then it has to mean you’re on the other side. That makes it very difficult to be involved in the discourse around this stuff, because it’s so divided.”

For Imran Ahmed, CEO of the Center for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH), there have only been two moments prior to this that have proved as difficult for his organization to monitor and track: One was the disinformation-fueled 2020 U.S. presidential election, and the other was the hotly contested space around the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I can’t remember a comparable time. You’ve got this completely chaotic information ecosystem,” Ahmed says, adding that in the weeks since Hamas’s October 7 terror attack social media has become the opposite of a “useful or healthy environment to be in”—in stark contrast to what it used to be, which was a source of reputable, timely information about global events as they happened.

The CCDH has focused its attention on X (formerly Twitter), in particular, and is currently involved in a lawsuit with the social media company, but Ahmed says the problem runs much deeper.

“It’s fundamental at this point,” he says. “It’s not a failure of any one platform or individual. It’s a failure of legislators and regulators, particularly in the United States, to get to grips with this.” (An X spokesperson has previously disputed the CCDH’s findings to Fast Company, taking issue with the organization’s research methodology. “According to what we know, the CCDH will claim that posts are not ‘actioned’ unless the accounts posting them are suspended,” the spokesperson said. “The majority of actions that X takes are on individual posts, for example by restricting the reach of a post.”)

Ahmed contends that inertia among regulators has allowed antisemitic conspiracy theories to fester online to the extent that many people believe and buy into those concepts. Further, he says it has prevented organizations like the CCDH from properly analyzing the spread of disinformation and those beliefs on social media platforms. “As a result of the chaos created by the American legislative system, we have no transparency legislation. Doing research on these platforms right now is near impossible,” he says.

It doesn’t help when social media companies are throttling access to their application programming interfaces, through which many organizations like the CCDH do research. “We can’t tell if there’s more Islamophobia than antisemitism or vice versa,” he admits. “But my gut tells me this is a moment in which we are seeing a radical increase in mobilization against Jewish people.”

Right at the time when the most insight is needed into how platforms are managing the torrent of dis- and misinformation flooding their apps, there’s the least possible transparency.

The issue isn’t limited to private organizations. Governments are also struggling to get a handle on how disinformation, misinformation, hate speech, and conspiracy theories are spreading on social media. Some have reached out to the CCDH to try and get clarity.

“In the last few days and weeks, I’ve briefed governments all around the world,” says Ahmed, who declines to name those governments—though Fast Company understands that they may include the U.K. and European Union representatives. Advertisers, too, have been calling on the CCDH to get information about which platforms are safest for them to advertise on.

Deeply divided viewpoints are exacerbated not only by platforms tamping down on their transparency but also by technological advances that make it easier than ever to produce convincing content that can be passed off as authentic. “The use of AI images has been used to show support,” Chaudhuri says. This isn’t necessarily a problem for trained open-source investigators like those working for Bellingcat, but it is for rank-and-file users who can be hoodwinked into believing generative-AI-created content is real.

And even if those AI-generated images don’t sway minds, they can offer another weapon in the armory of those supporting one side or the other—a slur, similar to the use of “fake news” to describe factual claims that don’t chime with your beliefs, that can be deployed to discredit legitimate images or video of events.

“What is most interesting is anything that you don’t agree with, you can just say that it’s AI and try to discredit information that may also be genuine,” Choudhury says, pointing to users who have claimed an image of a dead baby shared by Israel’s account on X was AI—when in fact it was real—as an example of weaponizing claims of AI tampering. “The use of AI in this case,” she says, “has been quite problematic.”

658 notes · View notes