#local processing

[ai-innova7ions]

Video Autogenerated by Faceless.Video

Micro AI is revolutionizing the way we interact with technology.

Micro AI is transforming our interaction with technology by providing lightweight, hyper-efficient models tailored for Edge devices such as smartwatches, IoT sensors, drones, and home appliances. This cutting-edge innovation facilitates real-time data processing and decision-making directly on the device, eliminating reliance on constant cloud connectivity. Imagine your smartwatch instantly analyzing health data or your smart home system making immediate adjustments based on real-time inputs—all thanks to micro AI. One of the key benefits of micro AI lies in its low latency and local processing capabilities. In industrial automation, it can monitor machinery in real time to predict failures before they occur. For smart homes, it enhances convenience and security by allowing appliances to learn from user behavior while optimizing energy consumption. In healthcare, wearable devices equipped with micro AI can provide critical monitoring of vital signs and alert medical professionals during emergencies—ensuring timely interventions that could save lives.

#microai #EdgeComputing

[harblkun]

Also I needed some real solars for his trials because he ONLY EVER GIVES ME BONFIRE OR BUNNY

[obsob]

days are getting warmer but i am always warm when im with you ! !

[lucybellwood]

World got you down?

Feeling overwhelmed?

Let’s plant some goddamn native wildflowers.

[sunburstsandmoonshadows]

it remains extremely funny to me that freddie wong accidentally (?) made Dan Fucks, embodiment of pleasure, so distinctly ace-coded. like, Dan talks a big game about sex and seems to view it as interesting and desirable, but when presented with such an obvious in for it he completely ignored Avaricci's come-ons to just talk about non-sexual pleasures like goddamn cold pillows. he's not paying attention to sex at all when it's not personally convenient or expected of him to do so.

100% Elias is ace and just doesn't realize people genuinely crave sex and it's not a metaphor or exaggeration like it is for him yet. bless him.

[hyakunana]

When you need to lie, but you're a good boy.

[crabsnpersimmons]

dreaming about the perfect pillow

fun fact: Moon is a hugger when he sleeps

(feeling better btw, not yet 100% but i can draw again! still need plenty of rest for reasons, but will be slowly replying to the asks in my inbox soon!)

[dazzelmethat]

Fishkeeping is hard.. not because water perimeters is too hard or keeping plants alive or any of that. But because I only ever learn about a common problem a fish has when I'm googling symptoms.

I've been dreaming about a dwarf gourami for 3 years and just now I find out that 70% of them in the market die from a virus they are susceptible to?

It's so hard to imagine little fishes as a cog in the capitalistic machine that doesn't care about the health of those fish when they are just little guys. They are just so little..

Where do the fish people of tumblr get your information from?

[rsenak]

burn out

[pande-monty-um]

When Jacob is the architect of his own misery.

An Until Dawn style au but Jacob developed a way of making his own little brainwashed wendigo army.

[tlirswriting]

[They Colonized Mars, entry 4 // start here]

Venus:

Second planet from the sun, rendered uninhabitable 

Roman goddess of love, beauty, and sex 

> Atlas walks down the steps into Cythera’s, crossing the energy disruption field's threshold — a series of simple devices set up around the perimeter of the club to cancel out the city's artificial gravity — and he feels lighter, nearly weightless, the pressure lifting from his bones. 

> The air is warm and sweet in the hazy basement room, thick with candy-flavored nicotine and THC vapor. A tall, four-armed Venusian dances on a small stage against the far wall for a sparse crowd, glowing pink and glittering in the spotlight as she mouths along to the old 2260s pop hit Acid Rain. 

> The music thumps through Atlas, the beat reverberating up from the floor and settling into his chest, pulsing in his lungs. He unzips his jacket and makes his way to the bar at one side of the room to order two of his usual drinks; something strong and fruity with tiny paper umbrellas in it. 

> “This is what people do,” He says to SaM-B, talking over the bass as he sets one glass on top of it. 

> “I cannot drink; I have no mouth.”

> “That's okay, you just have to stand there, maybe you're… moody, and mysterious, or something. Or maybe you're shy, ‘cause it's your first time coming here.” 

> “And this is normal? I am doing it correctly?” 

> “Sure, yeah.” 

> Atlas leans his elbow on the bar and sips his drink, watching the spots of light spinning across the walls, watching the people — mostly Human — bobbing along in ripples or sitting at tables. Two bored-looking lesbians chat quietly in the same corner Atlas always sees them, but he never caught their names; nor the man in a leather harness with scars across his chest, or the girl with green hair that might have been natural. 

> “This place is usually packed tighter when I come here,” He explains. “Saturday night, people are rubbing against each other, snorting zidge in the bathroom…” 

> “This is fun?” SaM-B asks him.

> “Well, I like it.” 

> He downs the rest of his drink and makes his way to stand by the stage where a handful of people are crowded, staring up at the Venusian; she's ethereally androgynous, shimmering like a mirage, larger than life in her heels and moving like gravity forgot her. She calls herself Majel Stardust. 

> Alcohol works its fingers through Atlas, relaxing his shoulders, easing the knots in his back. He breathes — digs through his wallet for a 1.0 note — reaches out to her, hands touching briefly when she takes it, leaning close enough to smell her perfume and she tucks it into her bra. She's electric, dripping glitter, commanding attention; she's mile-long legs and hands you can't keep track of, she's power and grace, you'd almost believe the blasting music was her own voice. 

> It's all an illusion, but Atlas loves the show, dazzling lights mirrored in rows of bioluminescent spots along his cheekbones and down his arms, only visible when his defenses and inhibitions are lowered. 

> SaM-B holds perfectly still beside him, watching intently, its lights blinking in time with the rhythm. 

> She finishes her set, and disappears behind the curtain as the people cheer. A moment later, she's behind him, a hand lightly brushing his shoulder to spin him around. 

> “Atlas, baby!” Her voice is deep and rich like honey. “It's a Tuesday, what are you doing here?” 

> “Supporting artists,” He jokes as she leads him away towards a table near the back. “What are you doing, stealing me from the other queens?” 

> She laughs. “The next one's Mz. Tuna Piano, that bitch is always late.”

> He hums. “Yeah, she is.” 

> “But honestly, really,” She puts a right hand around his shoulders, and another right hand on his waist. “Talk to me. What are you doing here? You look like the train caught you.” 

> He sighs. “I, uh… I had a weird day at work, I couldn't go straight home. Needed to clear my head.” 

> She gestures to SaM-B after they sit down. “Who's your friend?” 

> “My weird day at work.” He grabs the drink balancing on top of it and takes a sip. “That, and somebody died again.” 

> “You gotta get out of there, honey; they'll eat you alive.” 

> “I will, soon, it's just…” He shakes his head. “And go where, y'know?” 

> “Here, maybe.” She sucks on a thin metal tube and blows a ring of pomegranate-scented clouds. “Anywhere. Doesn't matter much, does it?” 

> Atlas chuckles. “I'm not built for entertaining.” 

> “Some people like Martians, with your big brown eyes. You could grow your hair out…” 

> “No, really, I can't.” 

> She studies him for a moment, something knowing in her compound eyes. 

> “I'm gonna get out,” He repeats. “I have plans, I just need a little more time.” 

> She hums. “You want a hit?” She offers. “I hear sometimes humans get a kick out of CO2, makes ‘em dizzy — wonder what it'll do to you.” 

> “No, thanks; I'd feel kinda bad taking your air.” 

> “Suit yourself.” 

> He watches her curl her mandibles around her electric cigar, draw in a deep breath, and beckon him closer — he obeys, leaning in, and she tilts his chin up to press her mouth to his and blow; he breathes in concentrated oxygen, carbon filtered by her lungs, fresh and crisp, artificially sweet. He pulls away and giggles.

> “There,” She says. “You don't have to be guilty about it.” 

> SaM-B emits a high-pitched whine. 

> “Poor thing,” Majel chuckles. “Is it sentient?” 

> Atlas begins answering, “I'm pretty sure, yeah—” 

> “I wish I was you,” It beeps. 

> “I get that a lot, honey.” 

> He sips his drink and thinks about what it meant by that. 

> The night rolls on, soft around the edges, pleasantly dark and spinning like galaxies. 

>>

> Walking home, still buzzing, Atlas leans on SaM-B as they go — his body feels leaden and too-loose, metal pins digging into his flesh to keep his legs on straight — and he slurs: “D'you understand why I took you here?” 

> It beeps, “I think so.” 

> “My point…” The words swim in his head and roll clumsily off his tongue. “With all of this, is that there's more to being alive than your programming.” 

> They can see Mars’ two moons meeting in the middle of the sky through the top of the dome, dancing among silver ribbons of noctilucent clouds. 

> “I want a name,” It says.

> “Yeah?” 

> “I think Selene would be nice.” 

> “Yeah, alright.” 

> A beat. “Can I be a girl?” 

> “Sure, why not?” 

> “Thank you, Atlas.” 

> “You don't need my permission.” 

> It’s true, but she needs to hear it.

> They wobble along the street under holographic advertisements shimmering in the artificial sky. 

> Atlas vaguely remembers getting on the train — rising up over the streets, city lights glowing trails around him — dozing off, and waking up when the brakes squeal at his stop. 

> Staggering out into the cold air again, he's hit by the wind, particles of sand scratching his face and sticking to the corners of his eyes. The storm is habitable inside the dome (outside, the winds are harsher, kicking up dust clouds miles high) but unpleasant enough that he quickens his pace the rest of the way home. 

Next >>

[yourlocalkiwi]

1/? Henry from the Henry saga: @toxi-works-at-culvers Henry !!!

[ryuki-draws]

They crash your graphic software and then give you this look

[saltpepperbeard]

Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety

Hello everyone! So as you probably already know, there has been a recent call to make, well, calls! Another member of our crew figured out that the max customer service line (855-442-6629) is a very effective way to get our feedback heard, as the feedback gets transcribed and shared to a multitude of teams.

I already sort of briefly shared my experience on this post, but I wanted to go a bit more in detail to offer some solace for those who are also phone averse, as well as share resources and get the word out even more.

And y'all, when I say I'm phone averse, I mean PHONE AVERSE LMAO; MY FEET WERE SWEATING JSDKLS LIKE I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE. So I totally, TOTALLY get it, and am here to walk you through everything in detail!

So I called that number and was on a brief hold--probably like 5 minutes or so. The customer service representative (Margot my bestie Margot) then picked up, and asked for the email associated with my account as well as my full name.

I was extremely extremely worried and anxious about being bothersome/annoying the person on the other end and just being able to feel it in their tone, so I was shivering and sweating all the while. But then when she asked for my reason for calling, I said, "Oh, it's actually in regard to some feedback," and she went, "Is it for Our Flag Means Death?"

And we both laughed, and I was like, "Haha how did you knooooowww?" And she laughed some more and was like, "Let me tell you, I have never seen anything like this in all my years working here. We are getting so many calls. It's incredible."

And by that point, a large weight was off my chest because she was friendly, I was friendly, EVERYONE WAS FRIENDLY.

I laughed and told her that we were a very passionate and concerned bunch, and she told me that she thought that was so cool and also super important. She then allowed me to tell her my feedback, and she transcribed it as I talked. This was the little script I had prepared in case you'd like to reference it:

I just wanted to call and express my disappointment, dissatisfaction, and concern with the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death on Max. As a queer person myself, this show has a tremendous impact on me. And in a climate where so many diverse and LGBT-centric shows have unjust ends, I’d just like to express my wish for reconsideration, and just the hope that…Max will allow LGBT stories like ours to live and flourish. And I’m really worried about there being some kind of…homophobic angle to the cancellation, so it would mean the world to myself and so many others if the decision could be reversed, and we could get our third and final season.

I went a little graver than originally planned, because I saw talks that taking a DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) angle, as well a "hey I'm a queer person and this feels like a decision made for a nefarious purpose" angle, are supposedly more likely to be noted.

Anyway, she allowed me to say my piece and wrote it all down, and then actually stayed with me on the line to chat a bit more. So, the phone call didn't feel rushed or anxious which was SO so huge to me; it felt far more conversational.

She was like, "I don't want to toot our little horn or anything, but Max really takes all this feedback into consideration. It will be passed to the properties team (or something equivalent, I can't remember the EXACT term she used), and they're in charge of what goes on Max and why. So, I really feel like you guys have a fighting chance with these efforts."

And of course I was thanking her profusely for telling me all of this, and for listening; polite menace, that will be my brand!

But man, the coolest part of all? She told me that she was POC, and a queer person herself, and that this was all so cool and so amazing to see. She applauded our efforts, and expressed interested in the show. I laughed and said, "Well uhhhh I might have a BIT of a bias, but I cannot recommend it enough."

And then she proceeded to tell me that it might be even MORE effective to hit from different angles. So, keep calling (they're available 24/7), and also keep utilizing the online feedback form. Basically just keep FLOODING them with how much this means to us and why.

I then expressed a lot of gratitude, we exchanged pleasantries, and there was a brief survey at the end. I don't think the survey is necessary, so you can probably hang up by this point, but I stuck around for a little more horsepower. It tells you to rate the customer service on a scale of 1-5 with 5 being the highest, and you know I gave my bestie a fivvvveee. It also tells you to press 1/2 if your issue was resolved or not. I said HELL TO THE NO, DUDE SJDKLS. And THEN, it asks you to leave a voice message after the tone describing your experience. I said that I was with the customer service representative Margot, and that she was extremely friendly and helpful, but that the issue at hand will not be resolved until Max reserves their decision about the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death (I'm also always saying the show title in full as opposed to just the acronym, just for more OOMPH).

...And thennnn I proceed to shake it/shriek it all off LMAO.

Buuuut yeah! Probably took a total of 10 minutes or so. @xoxoemynn also shared with me that she's seen people say that these customer service representatives likely deal with older folks who need help with technology, and are subsequently stunned (and maybe even excited) to talk to younger people who just want to voice concerns instead of chew the poor customer service people out lol! And Margot also mentioned that they were eager to take calls no matter what, so as long as we're all polite and succinct, I don't think we'll have to worry about a very tense and awkward call.

I hope this alleviates some fear a bit! We got this, crew. We're doing so, so much. And it seems like it's being heard all over the place; it also seems like we've got so many people on our side, too. Big big hugs, and I'll share the necessary resources once more-

Customer Service Number: (855) 442-6629

The Online Feedback Form:

The original tumblr post with all the information:

The tumblr post where Fox and others were sharing even more information:

[nordfjording]

there's a new carbon footprint calculator out adjusted for the nordics and its great and all (lists me as about half of the average norwegian) but it also pinpoints how hard it is to make these accurate because the "best tips for how YOU can improve!" are very much along the lines of "take the train!" no trains in my region. "stay at your vacation destinations longer and fly less!" i don't go on vacations. "eat less meat!" i buy 1 pack of salami per month. "buy fewer eggs!" i haven't bought an egg in several years. "take the bus to activities!" i don't have regular activities.

[brown-little-robin]

my dreams have grown smaller and kinder and far more difficult