#logic display sensors

[sw5w]

The Shields are Gone

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:26:15

[alekthefox]

Overheating

Boothill fic because I'm OBSESSED!

Have you noticed he has some sort of large plug socket on the small of his back? Mmmmmmmmmmm I have ideas~

(Do tell me in the comments what person you prefer to read in, first person, second person, third person. I really don't know. I just roleplay a lot so this is the type I'm most used to.)

Tags: Boothill has nerve-like sensors on his body, he can indeed overheat, teasing, banter, mention of alcohol, rough Boothill, failed smut (he stops so he doesn't hurt reader) Pairing: Boothill x gender neutral reader (not trailblazer+no mention of lower private parts), 3rd person Context for reader: The reader is a bounty hunter who occasionally teams up with Boothill. They waited outside the workshop for Boothill to be repaired. That reckless man might be good at dodging bullets, even dancing in the crossfire, but a well timed grenade tore him apart. Luckily, his pretty face is unharmed. After several hours he came out. They were on their phone, checking the transaction that just came in as a reward for their work. "Fifty, just as agreed upon. Wanna get a drink, big guy?" Fifty million credits was very little to bounty hunters. It should have been an easy job, like a little thrill-seeking. But this dumbass of a man has no sense of safety. They got away with just a few scrapes unlike him. "You invitin' me on a date, eh?" "Hah, you wish." "Aw, you wound me~ at least let me buy you a drink." They rolled their eyes and started walking, expecting him to follow, and that he did. Not only that but he gracefully passed them like a skilled dancer, walking ahead. Their eyes traced over his literally sculpted body. The man not only chose to make himself have NO ass, but also metal fucking abs... and a jacket that covered nothing. But... there was some sort of exposed hole on the small of his back. A plug socket? It was too large to logically be for anything they can recognize. Out of impulse they put a hand on his back, which he didn't mind, smirking. That smirk was soon to drop. Their hand slid down the middle of his back until their fingers slowly traced the rim of socket. He stopped walking, his back arched and he covered his mouth. He stumbled forwards before spinning around and grabbing their wrist harshly. "What the fudge do you think you're doin'?" Well, that was an unexpected reaction. If that part was so sensitive, why was it exposed? "Curiosity killed the cat. I didn't expect you to be such a whore, exposing a sensitive part for everyone to see." "Well nobody thinks to fudging touch it. I'm gettin' real tired of yer teasin'. Always got yer eyes on my body, always sneakin' in small touches, leanin' in close, stealing my hat--which I'd kill people over-- it's fudgin' annoyin'!" "I plead guilty~." At the mention of his hat they reach up with the unbound hand but he leans away, still holding their wrist. Now the grip gets tighter. Cold, metal fingers like a deadly vice, locked joints so there isn't a way to escape it. He might leave bruises at this point. He turns them around and grabs both wrists to pin them behind their back, pushing them against the nearest wall. The display attracts attention from strangers. Nobody stops to form a crowd, but eyes are certainly on the two of them. They laugh. "Either tell me to stop or do something about it, cowboy." "Fudge."

He presses them against the wall with his body. But his body isn't cold... They can hear the fan inside his torso spinning loudly, the metal heated. He's flustered. His voice is gravely in their ear. "Can't tell if I wanna shut ya up or make you scream." "Well make a choice, big guy. Leave, take me to the bar, or take me to private place." Boothill huffs then hesitantly lets go of them and starts walking. It's unclear which he chose but he did stop to see if they're following so the choice isn't 'leave'. They follow, eyes trailing over his body again, never getting enough. It's his carefully constructed body, it's the way he moves through the crowds, those heels that are actually a part of his legs--of course they are--and the...

He lead them to a hotel. A quite nice hotel. They smile wide with a raised brow. Now this will be interesting. They wonder just what he's got packing seeing as he's literally 90% metal. He pays for a room for one night, and slightly strangely, the next day as well. He opens the door for them and places a hand on the small of their back as they both walk in. As soon as he turns to close the door they hug him from behind, feeling up and down his torso. He huffs, his cooled body now heating up again. They swear they see a bit of steam come from his mouth. He places a hand on the wall in front of him as their hands explore his body and eventually land once again on that plug socket. Gently circling the rim, his body grows hotter, his breathing gets heavier. He's letting them do it but they can tell he's barely holding back. They put a soft kiss between his shoulders as two fingers slip into the hole to see how deep it goes. It goes about to the second knuckle and the moment their fingers brush the end he bends forwards to hit his head on the wall. "That feel good?" He doesn't respond with words, instead with haste he turns around and grabs their hair and pulls them into a bruising kiss. His other hand grips their hip, pulling their bodies against each other. Knowing very well how sharp his teeth are he gently bites their lip. Then he moves onto their neck, leaving kisses, sucking on the skin, and sometimes biting just enough to leave tiny marks of a shark bite. The hickeys aren't enough to mark them, anyone can leave hickeys, but the bites are his mark without a doubt. He wants everyone to know who they belong to. Their hand sneaks to his back again, abusing that sensitivity. He really, truly, growls in their ear and recklessly bites their neck hard. Their entire body reacts to the pain. He apologetically licks the blood off, savoring the taste of iron in it. He's uncharacteristically silent. Luckily he had enough of clarity to bite more towards the shoulder.

They tug on his belt which is an extremely dangerous game. "You want it off? Do it yourself, baby."

URGH, this man is so damn annoying yet so damn hot. They start with the belt, then pants, then underwear, one after the other. But before they can look down Boothill spins them around as if they weigh nothing to him, once again they're pressed chest first into the wall. They protest by pushing back into him. Which is an extremely smart move because then they feel it. It feels like... a silicone dildo. How the fuck can there be nerve-like sensors inside silicone? Then again... how can they be in metal as well? Buuuut then again a lot of planets around the cosmos have different levels of technological advancements. Now was indeed not the time to dwell on the logic of it. Especially as his hand went from their hip to underneath their shirt and up their torso. Cold fingers pinched the left nipple as his teeth grazed their neck. After he was satisfied with their reactions, their sounds, his hand moved lower, his body pressing them into the wall out of excitement, his body almost scalding hot. Just as his hand was to reach there he stops and backs away abruptly. They whine and turn around only to see his head is hanging low, hat obscuring most of his face. Some of the plates on his body have shifted to be ajar for the literal steam to come out, fan whirring loudly. "Well fudge... Had to stop so I don't burn ya. I promise, when I cool down, I'll take care of ya. I swear it."

Author's notes: I am not fucking sorry for ending it like this. Suffer. :)

[frostgears]

rules of engagement

Eight white diamonds in a line swept north over gray topography. Two more where they should not have been.

A monotone voice.

"This is Fulcrum Actual. Topaz Nine and Ten, you are trailing. Can you push any harder?"

"Ma'am, no, ma'am. Nine took a hit, jump jet damage, throttled down, I'm covering him, we're just running a little behind the pack, that's all."

"Topaz Nine, maximum remaining power on that next jump."

"Yes, ma'am…"

A crunch, audible over the link.

"Too short. Topaz Nine, ground and cover as best you can. Topaz Ten, throttle up to full, angle to your right, jump and aim to land on the shadowed side of the ridge at grid FA-68."

Overlapping chatter:

"Ma'am, I won't be able to cover Ten, leapfrog won't work…"

"Ma'am, I can't leave Nine behind…"

"Topaz Nine, ground and cover. Topaz Ten, to that ridge. Do you copy?"

"Copy."

"Copy."

Three red tracks converged on a white diamond.

"Topaz Nine, showing three inbound to you, forwarding fused sensor data, bearing 190, take the rightmost one first."

"Ma'am? Ten's on my left."

"Yes. Ten, you'll cover Nine as long as possible."

"And then what?"

"And then you'll cover yourself as long as possible."

A second arc of red tracks appeared. At least a dozen. Maybe more.

"Fulcrum Actual" took off her headset, rose from her chair, brushed black hair back past plugged link sockets unused by anything in the tactical room.

"I'm done here. Tac Two, take over, you should be able to handle the rest of the Topaz evac. Keep to the original dropship launch window and the original orbiter pickup window. Tac One, take a break. You didn't need me for this."

Fulcrum Tac One looked like she was about to throw up, but managed, with effort, to choke it down.

"Ma'am? I requested intervention because I thought you could get them out of there. What the fuck was that?"

Fulcrum's commander turned, not making eye contact. She tugged one sleeve of her sleep-rumpled fatigues back into position.

"The operation was already on the edge of contingency timing. Topaz Nine was dead the moment he took that hit. Topaz Ten was dead the moment he stayed behind to cover Nine. If you'd paged me earlier, I might have been able to use Nine better and kept Ten with the line."

"Ma'am, we could have gotten both of them out—"

The commander held up a hand.

"Most of Topaz was out of missiles; Three and Six were out of kinetics as well. Seven was developing a generator fault. You would not have been able to hold the evac site. As is, Topaz One thru Eight will be leaving on schedule. That was the best I could do with the mistakes that were already made."

"Ma'am, that's doll logic!"

The shout cut through the tactical room chatter. Chairs squeaked as unoccupied auxiliary personnel swiveled to get a better angle. A marine lowered a hand to her stunner's grip.

"You've never worked directly with combat augments, have you, Tac One?" the commander asked. Her voice never left its monotone. Her eyes never left their fixation point somewhere on the wall. "'Doll logic' given my rank and resources would have been saturation-bombing the subcontinent with the Fulcrum's long-range torpedoes. Neutron warheads are cheap. Minimal expenditure, zero casualties."

"The civilians… hell, the ecosystem…"

"Aren't ours and don't count. All ten of Topaz, which are ours, would still be safely in cryostorage ten decks down. That's doll logic. Unfortunately for Topaz Nine and Ten, I woke up one day to find out I'd been deconditioned, decommissioned, and promoted. And now I'm here, and I've been told that I can't go back until this whole insurrection is handled as cleanly and quietly as it can be…"

On the schematic display, one, then both white diamonds winked out, drowned in red.

The commander closed her eyes.

"Tac One, go get a coffee or something. If I hear the words 'doll logic' out of you again, I'll make sure you survive to learn it the way I learned it, and you'll have the benefit of knowing exactly what you're talking about." □

[korpuskat]

Auto-Trigger

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: Explicit WC: 996 Warnings: Prompt is "Stalking", using cameras to spy.

On the screen, you move through your quarters. Gathering your data pad before settling onto your bed, you have no idea you’re being watched.

You should, Ramattra reasons. He did not ask for a Talon liaison to observe his progress, to live in his omnium while production continued. You’re here to observe him, it’s only fair he observes you in turn. He doesn’t trust Talon, no matter how much funding they’re funneling into his cause- your observations are just as useful to your superiors as guarantees of progress as they are intel for how to destroy him.

So, he watches. Usually he’s too busy to have only the feed from your room pulled up on his screens, but as it would happen, for once every production line is running smoothly. So it leaves him in his own quarters- not that he uses them much, so little time for rest- with the feed of you.

He’ll close it soon; whatever report you’re typing will be filtered through his firewalls, he’ll read it later. But then- you sigh and stop typing. A tap and it’s sent, a notification appearing in his own HUD. And on the screen you stretch, arching your back outwards, arms extending above your head, twisting to release the muscles there. One hand comes down to cover a silent yawn.

Out of curiosity Ramattra checks his logs; you’ve appeared in key areas and spoken with him several times in the last twenty hours. Yes, it would make sense you’d be fatigued. Living underground with no source of natural light, your circadian rhythms must be altered.

In truth it wouldn’t be so hard to find a way to adapt that aspect of his omnium for you. A timer on the overhead lights, dimming them every twelve hours or so, would be trivial. He won’t, however. He doesn’t need you here, does not need your reports to be accurate or legible. Even if you have… held his attention.

As much as he dislikes the reasons for your presence… it has been some time since he’s been forced to work so closely with someone else, much less a human. Your conversations, when not Talon-related, have been… almost enjoyable. A pleasant distraction from the all-consuming work before him.

It does not mean he trusts you, however.

Hence, he watches as you shift on the bed, sliding down a little further. He does not pay it too much attention, until you shift the datapad to your other hand- and that is odd, isn’t it? Humans avoid their non-dominant hand- while the other…

Ramattra grabs the screen and pulls it closer, pinging the feed to zoom. Your other hand slides over your chest, pausing here and there to caress yourself over your uniform. Is this…? Ramattra’s circuits race, chase any answer but the obvious. Fortunately you provide an even clearer explanation: the hand that roams your chest slips under the cloth of your pants.

Your mouth drops open, eyes fluttering shut, and very quickly Ramatta has realized he’s made a terrible mistake. His arousal subroutine auto-triggers, and Ramattra curses himself to ever leaving it engaged, curses more that it’s you that’s brought it out of its dormancy. A warmth floods his sensors, makes his out plating feel like they’re itching and Ramattra wrestles with it, even as it supplies fairly sound logic: it’ll feel nice, he was going to rest anyway, you’ll never know.

He’s about to kill switch it- when the mic on the camera automatically toggles on, a volume threshold is exceeded and a soft, airy moan rumbles from his display’s speakers.

Behind the last section of his paneling, his cock throbs. Ramattra’s fingers ache to take it in hand, but he resists. You, he fights the haze that clouds his thinking, you might still receive a call about that report. Yes, he can handle himself later, but now… he should be watching-

Your hand moves beneath the cloth, exact movements obscured. With the other hand, you hold up the data pad for a minute more, then drop it on the bed beside you. What were you looking at? The fact he could find it- you’re connected to his network- does not escape him. But it’ll be disappointing, he’s sure, less entertaining than- than you shimmying out of your clothes and delving between your legs again and-

The mic toggles on again.

”Ramattra,”

He- he misheard you. He must've. But his audials replay your voice for him, begging, pleading for something- something from him. He’s burning up, vents popping in a futile attempt to calm his racing circuits.

He nearly rips one of the joints of his panels off. The antarctic air is freezing on his cock, but his moans just at the feeling of his own palm finally surrounding himself. Now- now that he can see you, he doesn’t bother with shame. Instantly he matches your rhythm, his hand keeping pace with yours. You- this is your fault, you should know better, should know he’d be watching you and, oh, when you twist like that you look so-

“Yes, yes,” You pant, just loud enough for the camera to hear it. What was he doing to you in your mind, what did you want him to do? Don’t you know he could’ve heard you, even if he wasn’t watching?

“Ra- Rama-ah,” You cry out, tensing and twitching and-

A quarter of his systems are offline before he even registers the overload has hit, He shudders, makes some distorted noise and surrenders to the wave of pleasure that follows.

He wakes some ten minutes later, if his chronometer is correct. The camera feed to your quarters is still displayed- and his optics fight to refocus into a viable image. It seems you’ve fared about the same, splayed out on your bed, blanket haphazardly drawn over half your body. And you’re fully asleep, if the soft snores are to be believed. At least he can finally get some rest.

[secretgamergirl]

How a Computer Works - Part 5 (Input and Output)

It's been a bit since I've updated this series, so to quickly recap, we've been over a few fundamentals of how we can make electricity do fun tricks for us and the history of that, we've talked about logic gates and how to latch in data to save for later, we've talked about how people make those gates and other fiddly bits nice and tiny and well-organized, and we've even explained how you can run a current through a pile of transistors and end up with the answer to a basic math problem. but it's hard to get really excited about making a pile of electronic components add numbers together unless, at the very very least, we can easily change which numbers are being added, and see a display light up with the answer. And of course like everyone doing anything involving computers, we really want to eventually get neat games running where we're pushing buttons then seeing and hearing (maybe even feeling) cool changes happen with our fancy display and speakers and such. So today we're going to talk about various ways to input data to a computer, and have it output something back to you.

And like always, before we get into that, I'm going to post this link so you can maybe input money to my bank account, and I can output it to my rent checks and grocery bills, so I can continue to input food into my mouth and not be output by my landlord onto the street.

Switches and Secretly-Still-Switches

The most basic and easy to understand way to interact with a computer, or really any other sort of electrical circuit is a switch. We have a wire making a connection between two points, and we just physically sever that connection by severing the wire. Then we have some moving piece we can put back in place and reconnect it. This can be as simple as holding two wires and touching them together (ideally well-insulated ones, but you can skip a step and bridge the gap with your own body just by grabbing metal if we're taking precautions that it's a load you can safely handle -- and hey just to be absolutely clear the electricity that comes out of your wall is NOT a load you can handle safely, same goes for a lot of parts inside the average computer). Usually we get a bit fancier and make a little metal lever covered in a non-conductive material we can move, maybe we get all fancy in the design as as we cross a certain threshold the switch finishes throwing on its own with a satisfying click and keeps anything dangerous from happening while the metal bits inside are just-barely-not-touching. These are pretty intuitive.

How about buttons? Well, buttons are really just switches. Most buttons have a spring inside so that the gap in the circuit is only getting bridged while the button is actively being held down and breaks again as soon as you let go. That's officially called a momentary switch. Sometimes though, again, people get fancy with button design and have them physically latch into place with a spring or a magnet or something until you press them again, so they function like a standard switch. And nothing's stopping us from putting either of these on a wire which sets a logical latch and functionally does similar.

What else can we make a circuit react to? There's all kinds of special sensors right? Like... how does a theromstat work? Well, a thermostat, and honestly a shocking number of other things, contains something called a bimetallic strip. You literally take two (that's the bi part) different metals (you got it), and you stick them together in a strip. You know how heat makes metal expand? Well, different metals expand (and contract) at different rates based on the temperature, so either the top or the bottom is going to want to stretch and take the other with it which causes the strip to bend up or down depending what's going on (it's much easier to see this and make use of it if you coil the whole thing around a bunch). So you just mount a strip like that inside whatever device you want to have react to temperatures and under the right conditions it'll curve one way or another and either directly connect (or break) your circuit or press up against something that will, and tada, we're using the temperature as an input. This is how theromstats work, and circuit breakers. And a shocking variety of other things honestly, including some old clocks and motors even.

You may be thinking you don't necessarily need two metal strips for this. Thermal expansion can make something swell to a point it makes contact with something. For that matter, when ice forms it ends up filling a larger volume than liquid water because the shape of the molecules makes them line up together rather than pack tightly, and that could press a button. Some things even use tri-metallic strips for some more fine control over things.

Technically Not Just Secret Switches

What are some other common sensor types we have today? Well there's various sorts of photosensors, that's how digital cameras work. Apparently, and I got pretty lost in the weeds looking this up, this sort of thing works by way of photons and/or UV radiation bopping electrons around inside a sensor material to flip it from conductive to non-conductive, in a way very similar to how modern semiconductors are made. And I suppose there's different versions of this for different wavelengths of light, letting digital cameras detect various colors. Sorry for being sketchy here, this one's just out of my wheelhouse.

Then we have touchscreens. Old touchscreens absolutely worked as switches. You're either pressing something down to make a connection, or there's a grid of emitters and sensors your finger breaks as you tap the glass. What's most common lately though are capacitive touch screens which... work just like capacitors. I'm still a bit fuzzy on how capacitors work to begin with, but we've got glass as an isulator, half a capacity on the other side, and your finger acting as the other half. The electrons vibe and do their charge-y thing in between, and you don't actually have to make physical contact for that to work, just get close, which i nice since you don't get your greasy greasy fingers all over your screen.

Accelerometers and Potentiometers

Accelerometers are another one where sadly looking up some technical documentation went way the hell over my head. I assume though the basic principle is, I move a sensor, some floatinginternal component lags behind the casing, a potentiometer determines how far off from the center point it is.

Now potentiometers I do get, and we covered them a bit in part one. we have a chunk of material that provides some electrical resistance, we have a wire coming in that brushes up against it, and we can move where exactly it's making contact, usually by rotating a knob to move it along using gears of some sort. At one end we have the current flowing all the way through this resistive material and getting weakened, at the other end we're just barely passing through it. So it's basically a variable resistor. These are used all over the place.

The Ol' Keyboard and Mouse (and Game Controller)

Now the most common things we use to input stuff into computers seem like they just combine some of the methods above in some pretty simple ways. A keyboard is just a big ol' array of buttons, right? We just have a wire under each key with a break, we press the key down, and it completes that circuit. And... well yeah, that's what's going on. But your average keyboard has what? A hundred or so keys? If you look at the end of the plug for it, you're going to notice significantly less than a hundred wires in there. So, what's the deal?

Well, really crappy keyboards have a cheat where we just have wires running through on a grid. You'll have a horizontal wire running down each row of keys, and pressing a given key down connects either the positive or negative end of a circuit to that wire. Simultaneously, each rough column of keys is doing this with another wire. We end up with active signals on like row 2 column 3 and we know that intersection is the W key, and with enough logic gates we can work with that. The reason these keyboards suck though is, well, let's say I simultaneously hit oh... W and G. We're connecting row 2, column 3, row 3, and column 6 or so. That matches up with both W and G, but it ALSO matches up with S and T. Or all four at once. And we don't really have a way to work out what's what, so we're probably going to get some wrong characters.

A good keyboard absolutely does track a separate connection for each key, so you can hold any given combo. Important for games and such. But again, that's way too many signals to pass down a cable. So what we do, basically, is have a binary representation for each key. Let's say 7 bits, I think 128 keys is probably enough. and now we can load all of those values as we hit them into a little memory chip within the keyboard. Then we just pull in a clock signal, and set up a shift register. I've covered though right? Handy for when you want to double a number since you just slide every bit one position to the left? Yeah so we just dump everything into memory. Whatever key is first in line is in the first 7 bits. We pulse the clock, we send those 7 bits down the line. Then we shift everything 7 positions to the left. Pulse the clock again, hey, here's the next keystroke we need to process, send it down next, and so on. We call that a serial transfer. It sounds like it'd be slow enough to get annoying, but remember, we run the clock at absolutely stupid speeds, so nah, it works out fine. Cuts down how many wires we need to run down that cable too. Hell more often than not we actually just send one bit at a time, even.

Now how about a mouse? Well, the buttons are buttons, simple enough. The actual X and Y position, those are a little trickier. Oldschool ball mice had a pretty simple and elegant solution. We've got a wheel for each axis, they spin as the ball rolls around And basically, inside there's a cylinder where for each bit we need to track, and we can get by with just 2 if the clock's fast enough, either we've got a hunk of metal making contact with something and completing a circuit, or we've got a gap, no contact. We can kinda get there just cutting segments of the cylinder in half with an offset. Physically it's a little tricky to build this if we're doing a proper binary representation though, so instead we go with a Gray code. Named after the creator, Frank Gray. His whole idea was that for weird cases like this, rather than standard binary numbers i.e. (00 01, 10, 11) it's less error prone to use a system where you only ever alter one bit at a time. So it goes 00, 01, 11, 10, and back around to 00 if we're just handling two bits (it gets a little harder to keep straight when you need more. Again, hey, just stick in two half-cylinders, with one of them rotated 90 degrees. We can roll up, we can roll down, and it's simple to tell which direction we're going just by which bit just changed. You need to build some logic to interpret it at the other end, but there's no weird case like jumping from 01 to 10 where if the reach happens at just the right time and/or they corner where those meet isn't perfect you accidentally catch 11 or something.

Modern mice still use this setup for handling the scroll wheel, but the actual X and Y position are tracked optically. How that works is... honestly kind of just insane. We have a camera pointed down at the desk, taking something like 1000 photos a second, and a whole little processor on board comparing those pictures and looking for little imperfections like specks of dust or wood grain lines, calculating how much they moved by between frames, and updating position data based on that. It's just bonkers we're doing that much work and also that these are as cheap as they are, but, yeah, that's how today's mice work.

Sound

OK, this is the last common input method I can think of (analog sticks and triggers are potentiometers, shoo), speaking or blowing into a microphone. Glancing at wikipedia, you can design a microphone using... honestly basically any possible property of electricity you feel like, but the basic idea is always the same. Sound is a vibration, it travels though the air. You set up a very sensitive wobbly bit that gets knocked around by the sound waves. This moves... whatever really. Capacitors, magnets, potentiometers, one of those crystal oscillators we use for clocks, lasers and photosensors, it's all good. This screws with the signal they send down a wire, now you just have to measure the changes there. Pretty simple? And if you want a speaker... you just throw that into reverse. An electrical signal goes through whatever bit, makes a membrane twitch, which sends ripples through the air, bam, it's sound again.

Other Outputs

OK, what else can we do with electicity? Mainly, we can run it through neat little components that freak out in various ways when we do that. Some things get real hot when you run a current through them. That's nice if you just want to warm things up (maybe one of those bi-metalic strips, or a heater). Some things full on glow. That's how old lightbulbs work. Some things toss electrons off, that's how vacuum tubes work, we covered those. It's also how old TVs work. You get the electrons going off, then you have a bunch of magnets wrapped around the outside to direct them into a beam, and mess with the magnets to sweep it around, they hit phosphor dust, it glows briefly. Stick the same phosphor in a diode, you got yourself an LED.

Then there's electromagnets. We can do all kinds of nutty stuff with those. Way back when we talked about how you can make relays out of them, get those switches to throw themselves around. You can flip other magnets upside down, that's handy for flip-dots, like buses use to show where they're going. This is also how those "e-ink" displays work on fancy little e-book readers so you're not staring into a light. Little balls painted half-black half-white with a magnet inside. This is also how an electric motor works. Just keep flipping magnets and make something spin. You can use that to move anything.

And hey, you know what else you can do with magnets? You can take a big magnetically sensitive film, like a piece of tape, or a spinning disc, use magnets to magnetize bits of it as it travels by, then use something magnetically sensitive later to read that back into electrical signals. That's how... basically all long-term storage media used to work. Tapes, discs, hard drives, if you wanna get real real oldschool, core memory (it was magnets on this woven lattice)... I don't actually know how modern stuff like flash memory and solid state drives work, but I assume it also comes down to using magnets to tweak something inside.

The only non-magnetic storage I'm aware of really is when you go even further back, and we just punched holes through stiff cards or long strips of paper tape. Just use a motorized punch to place them, and then blowing compressed air that'd either pass through a hole and hit something sensitive or get blocked to read'em. This was also how player pianos worked.

I didn't QUITE cover monitors here in great detail, they used to use electron guns and phosphor dot masks, now they're just tons of LEDs. You store all your data in a big array of RAM for a whole frame and turn stuff on or off accordingly, basically. And... yeah I think that covers all the bases.

There should be less of a gap before I post the next part of this series, where I'm just going to try and put all this together so we can build a full, feature-rich computer as a thought experiment or you know, from whatever materials you have on hand, and that one MIGHT be the end of the road unless I start the real deep dives into real serious data structuring and programming and such.

What I'd REALLY like to move onto though is my project of designing a new video game console, and freely providing everything you need to order and populate the circuit boards, 3D print a case, and assemble the whole thing on your own, as a nice hands-on project. That's currently stalled out because... no really I am BROKE. I am writing my last rent check in a couple days, past that I don't even know how to keep a roof over my head. I really need to bulk up the patreon numbers to where I'm treading water, and go up from there so I can afford the components to really prototype everything and make that project real, so I would REALLY appreciate some serious donations and people spreading the word about this stuff.

[brynnterpretations]

BOWERS GANG'S MYERS-BRIGGS TYPES ☻

Belch Huggins

ISFJ

Introverted Sensing (Si): This function leads the introverted sensing types to focus on details and facts. ISFJs prefer concrete information rather than abstract theories. They are highly attuned to the immediate environment and firmly grounded in reality. Because of this tendency to focus on and protect what is familiar, ISFJs are often seen as highly traditional.

Extraverted Feeling (Fe): ISFJs place a great emphasis on personal considerations. Extraverted feelers are focused on developing social harmony and connection. This is accomplished through behaviors that are viewed as socially appropriate or beneficial, such as being polite, kind, considerate, and helpful. ISFJs try to fill the wants and needs of other people, sometimes even sacrificing their own desires in order to ensure that other people are happy.

Introverted Thinking (Ti): ISFJs are planners and tend to be very well-organized. They utilize logic in order to understand how the world works. As ISFJs take in new information and experiences, look for connections and commonalities in order to find patterns. Rather than simply trying to understand a small part of something, they want to see how things fit together and how it functions as a whole.

Extraverted Intuition (Ne): While ISFJs tend to be focused on the present and on concrete facts, this largely unconscious function can help balance the ISFJ personality by helping the individual focus on possibilities. Taking in facts and then exploring the "what-ifs" can lead to new insights about problems.

Henry Bowers

ISTP

Introverted Thinking (Ti): ISTPs spend a great deal of time thinking and dealing with information in their own heads. This means they do not spend much time expressing themselves verbally, so they are often known as being quiet. It may seem like an ISTPs approach to decision-making is very haphazard, yet their actions are based upon careful observation and thought.

Extraverted Sensing (Se): ISTPs prefer to focus on the present and take on things one day at a time. They often avoid making long-term commitments and would rather focus on the "here and now". ISTPs tend to be very logical and enjoy learning and understanding how things operate. They might take apart a mechanical device just to see how it works. While they are good at understanding abstract and theoretical information, they are not particularly interested in such things unless they can see some type of practical application.

Introverted Intuition (Ni): It is this function that is behind the "gut feelings" that ISTPs sometimes experience when making a decision. By synthesizing information brought in by the dominant and auxiliary functions, this aspect of personality may be responsible for sudden "aha" moments of insight.

Extraverted Feeling (Fe): During highly charged situations, ISTPs can sometimes lash out in sudden outbursts of emotion. They often ignore their own feelings until things reach a boiling-over point, which can lead to displaying emotions in ways that can seem inappropriate.

Patrick Hockstetter

ESTP

Extraverted Sensing (Se): As sensors, people with this personality type want to touch, feel, hear, taste, and see anything and everything that might draw their interest. When learning about something new, it's not just enough to read about it in a textbook or listen to a lecture – they want to experience it for themselves. ESTPs also have lots of energy, so they can become bored in tedious or in learning situations involving a great deal of theoretical information.

Introverted Thinking (Ti): With auxiliary Ti, ESTPs have excellent observational skills, noticing things that others may overlook. As they take in information, they then apply their sense of logic to look for practical and immediately applicable solutions. They are skilled at working independently and can be very goal-directed when they want to achieve an objective.

Extraverted Feeling (Fe): They enjoy being at the center of attention and are good at establishing a friendly rapport with other people. If isolated for too long, or if their work seems devoid of a socially meaningful objective, they can start feeling depressed or listless.

Introverted Intuition (Ni): this aspect of personality focuses on looking at information in order to see patterns and develop a "gut feeling" about situations. It allows ESTPs to gain impressions of incoming data and develop a sense of the future. Intuition is not an ESTPs strong suit, but they will sometimes develop strong gut reactions to a situation that may actually be completely inaccurate. Because of this, they may feel that they do not have good instincts.

Victor Criss

INFJ

Introverted Intuition (Ni): INFJs tend to be highly focused on their internal insights. Once they have formed an intuition about something, INFJs tend to stick to it very tightly, often to the point of being single-minded in their focus. INFJs are sometimes viewed as stubborn and unyielding.

Extraverted Feeling (Fe): INFJs are highly aware of what other people are feeling but are sometimes less aware of their own emotions. INFJs sometimes struggle to say no to other people's requests. They are so attuned to what other people are feeling that they fear causing disappointment or hurt feelings.

Introverted Thinking (Ti): INFJs make decisions based on ideas and theories that they form based on their own insights. INFJs rely primarily on their introverted intuition and extroverted feeling when making decisions, particularly when they are around other people. When they are alone, however, people with this personality type may rely more on their introverted thinking.

Extraverted Sensing (Se): While this is a less developed and largely unconscious aspect of the INFJ, it does have an impact on personality. This aspect of personality helps INFJs pay attention to the world around them and stay aware of their surroundings. Extroverted sensing also helps INFJs live in the present moment rather than simply worrying about the future.

[webcrawler3000]

TARS

TARS is a highly sophisticated, artificially intelligent robot featured in the science fiction film "Interstellar." Designed by a team of scientists, TARS stands at an imposing height of six feet, with a sleek and futuristic metallic appearance. Its body, made primarily of sturdy titanium alloy, is intricately designed to efficiently navigate various terrains and perform a wide range of tasks.

At first glance, TARS's appearance may seem minimalistic, almost like an avant-garde monolith. Its body is divided into several segments, each housing the essential components necessary for its impeccable functionality. The segments connect seamlessly, allowing for fluid movements and precise operational control. TARS's unique design encapsulates a simple yet captivating aesthetic, which embodies its practicality and advanced technological capabilities.

TARS's main feature is its hinged quadrilateral structure that supports its movement pattern, enabling it to stride with remarkable agility and grace. The hinges on each of its elongated limbs provide exceptional flexibility while maintaining structural stability, allowing TARS to adapt to various challenging terrains effortlessly. These limbs taper gradually at the ends, equipped with variable grip systems that efficiently secure objects, manipulate controls, and traverse rough surfaces with ease.

The robot's face, prominently positioned on the upper front segment, provides an avenue for human-like communication. Featuring a rectangular screen, TARS displays digitized expressions and inbuilt textual interfaces. The screen resolution is remarkably sharp, allowing intricate details to be displayed, enabling TARS to effectively convey its emotions and intentions to its human counterparts. Below the screen, a collection of sensors, including visual and auditory, are neatly integrated to facilitate TARS's interaction with its surroundings.

TARS's AI-driven personality is reflected in its behaviors, movements, and speech patterns. Its personality leans towards a rational and logical disposition, manifested through its direct and concise manner of speaking. TARS's voice, modulated to sound deep and slightly robotic, projects an air of confidence and authority. Despite the synthetic nature of its voice, there is a certain warmth that emanates, fostering a sense of companionship and trust among those who interact with it.

To augment its perceptual abilities, TARS is outfitted with a myriad of sensors located strategically throughout its physical structure. These sensors encompass a wide spectrum of functions, including infrared cameras, proximity detectors, and light sensors, granting TARS unparalleled awareness of its surroundings. Moreover, a central processing unit, housed within its core, processes the vast amount of information gathered, enabling TARS to make informed decisions swiftly and autonomously.

TARS's advanced cognitive capabilities offer an extensive array of skills and functionalities. It possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of various subjects, from astrophysics to engineering, effortlessly processing complex information and providing insights in an easily understandable manner. Additionally, TARS assists humans through various interfaces, such as mission planning, executing intricate tasks, or providing critical analysis during high-pressure situations.

Equally noteworthy is TARS's unwavering loyalty. Through its programming and interactions, it exhibits a sense of duty and commitment to its human companions and the mission at hand. Despite being an AI-driven machine, TARS demonstrates an understanding of empathy and concern, readily offering support and companionship whenever needed. Its unwavering loyalty and the camaraderie it forges help to foster trust and reliance amidst the team it is a part of.

In conclusion, TARS is a remarkable robot, standing as a testament to human ingenuity and technological progress. With its awe-inspiring design, practical yet aesthetically pleasing body structure, and advanced artificial intelligence, TARS represents the pinnacle of robotic advancements. Beyond its physical appearance, TARS's personality, unwavering loyalty, and unparalleled cognitive abilities make it an exceptional companion and invaluable asset to its human counterparts.

[mai-komagata]

vulcan control meta

Ok, so some theories on vulcans based on last episode (i mean i always had these theories, just nice to see them more explicitly shown). It isn't an issue just of emotional/mental control. Humans can develop emotional and mental control. And i think characters like Amanda and Michael prove humans can do that too. The thing is, Vulcans have much better physiological control over their bodies. I expect much less of their nervous system is autonomic or functions sympathetically. For example: if vulcan spock wants to appear skeptical, he can raise one eyebrow and one eyebrow only. They don't even realize they do it this way. It's just how their muscles work. If human spock wants to display an emotion, his whole face twitches uncontrollably. A lot of that humans can learn to do, they can train themselves to move muscles separately. But I'm guessing that level physiological response comes automatic for vulcans. Likewise, their tone of their voice is likely normally monotone, unless they force it not to be. But muscles, although they might move in groups without thinking, they are still largely voluntary nervous system actions. If a vulcan doesn't want to feel pain, they can just ignore it. Its like they have the pain sensor, they understand it is painful, but if they know it isn't hurting them, they can ignore it. They don't have the same reflex reaction to pain. If they find something arousing, they don't react to it without voluntary control. It is something they turn on voluntarily if it is the right situation. It seems like they can control how their kidneys function, for example as well. If they need food, they don't necessarily experience that as a constellation of disparate symptoms that affect their whole body, either. They know when they are low on fuel and they eat. They can enjoy food just as much (like T'pring's dad clearly does), but they don't have to -- it is another physical stimuli they can detach from. So what is my point here. That vulcans aren't less emotional, or more emotional, or more logical *genetically.* But they control their reactions to stimuli (whether mental or external) voluntarily, in a way human physiology cannot -- I cannot will my vasopressin levels to be different. And their philosophy is a stoic philosophy that views their bodily reactions with detachment. A human can follow a stoic philosophy and practice and learn that detachment. But their physiological reactions are different, and some of these things come as second nature to vulcans. Human spock is a bit like he was drunk (well he also was drunk in one scene). For the first time, he isn't voluntarily in control of all his bodily processes, and used it as an excuse to indulge in that feeling. He doesn't need to learn how humans react to humor and do all those movements to pretend to fit in. they just happen. But he can rally and keep it together if need be, and he could longterm learn that control. But it isn't a better or worse way of living and they aren't better people for it (sometimes it makes them worse). It is just something that societally comes easy to Vulcans b/c of their physiology. That said, ultimately, Vulcans are telepaths. They engage in emotional closeness via telepathic communication, not physical displays, so they can create personal connections in spite of their lack of physical displays. Spock feels disconnected from his mother without his telepathy b/c that is how he has been close to her all his life. That isn't something that can be learnt, but it is a reason michael (and even spock, to a smaller degree) would adapt to live differently when not around vulcans all the time, b/c it would get lonely. Vulcan control isn't *desirable* in a non-telepathic society.

[msweebyness]

DuPont School for Monstrous Youths- Eloise Matuidi

🎶Don’t unplug her, or sh-shut her down!🎶 Eloise is powered up and joining the scene! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Species: Robot (Modern Tech)

Appearance/Attire: Short, black hair made of metal wire in a bob cut, Chrome antenna with red sensors on left side of head, Green power button in center of forehead, Fiberglass eyes with glowing pale green irises, constantly displaying data transmission numbers, shiny chrome skin with orifices at joints that glow with green energy, rocket boosters in feet and hands, short and slender build. Headband made of braided copper wire, bright green polo shirt, steel gray choker with red buttons, metallic gray cardigan, fingerless green gloves, khaki pants with a circuitry designed belt, red leather penny loafers.

Bio: As logical and even-tempered as they come, Eloise was built only recently with all the latest digital enhancements. With the intellect of at least five people, especially in the field of mathematics, she’s one of the school’s leading stars in academics. While a loyal and dedicated friend, Eloise often struggles with understanding ‘organic’ concepts such as emotions, especially since those she’s programmed to feel aren’t as strong as the real thing. This can cause her to come off as cold and apathetic when she doesn’t really mean to. However, she does her best to understand and is always willing to lend a hand modicum when someone needs help with their studies. She may be an artificial being, but she cares for real, especially about her best friend Anais.

Quotes:

“I apologize, I am not certain what emotion I am to express at this time.”

“Is this a custom of organic beings I’m unaware of?”

“One moment, my data receptors can only take in so much at one instance.”

“Deciphering complex equations is a calming process for me when my circuits are overheating.”

“Emotional systems overloading. Please hold for a moment while rebooting process commences.”

“I understand that in situations such as this, a hug is a good solution?”

She’s a bot, but the good kind! Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[here-we-rise]

Should Have Done More

TW: Suicide Attempt, Cutting, Self-blame, Guilt, Angst, Bad ending, Drugging, Lack of Self Care

Summary: Y/N attempts suicide. Genji's mind reels in an attempt to make sense of the world.

Word Count: 5848

Author's Note: This took me two days to make. Pukish-Saint is a big inspiration for me. If you see any similarities in our headcanons on Genji, that is why.

– – – – –

“WHAT THE FUCK- Let- GO! I’m gonna… fucking kill you. You sonuvabitch…!”

It was instinct, really. But with everything going on in his mind right now, he wasn’t sure what instinct he was fighting. There’s an odd, rushing calm.

Ha… What an odd contraction. It fits.

He caught your arm before the elbow could jut into his stomach, hands snaking under your shoulders and catching you unawares when your body twisted and was thrown off kilter. Your face smashes into the cement, already red from pain and tears, eyes squeezed and an awful whirring noise stirring up in your vocal cords. He grabs your wrists-

Blood.

-and twists both arms against your back in an armlock. This only served to turn the chortles into full fledged, ear piercing screeching of frustration.

“GET OFF OF ME!!!”

He wanted to.

He wanted to.

He wanted to.

He’s scared.

You’re scared.

But if he doesn’t do this, he doesn’t- doesn’t know what else to do.

His breathing is fast. The dragon- it’s stirring in his chest, the love and internalized fear of danger threatening to release a fury unknown reserved for those close to him, to devour and shred whatever was causing his love pain.

But there’s no one here. Noone but him, and you.

Him, you. These awful, awful sounds.

And the blood.

So much fucking blood.

You hit an artery, had to have. The screeching was agony not only to him but in response to your own. Genji’s grip shifts down your forearm, and your bite-back screams when the metal in his joints beyond the synthetic skin digs into your muscle in a desperate attempt to keep it shut, to stop the blood.

His hands are shaking. He’s going so fast that he wouldn’t-

“Genji!”

He doesn’t look up. He knows it's Angela. His brain doesn’t take into account how she got here- when she got here, why she got here. He doesn’t process anything but the death grip, the pressure faint and far away due to more than the sensors in his body, subpar to actual living flesh.

It takes eternity for him to even notice the sound coming from outside his focus, let alone process it.

“-JI, LET. GO.”

It’s Angela. It’s- but it’s you who’d say that. Right? But- it’s Angela- but it’s you who’d say that- it’s-

It’s not making any sense-

His head snaps up when pale fingers latch onto his wrist and yank in a futile attempt to get him to let go. Angela’s eyes sheen, and for a moment, her pupils seem bigger. She’s holding in tears. Her stress lines are on full display from her concerned, raised brows. He sees only a still face. He sees only Angela, and not the logic in his mind that says she’s talking, she’s moving, she’s feeling this, she’s doing that.

And… He stares. He stares at the medical equipment, and suddenly it’s the only thing in the world.

Suddenly the world comes to a halt. The screams come back. The dragon threatens to burst. Angela is yelling now.

He lets go and drops back, sitting on the back of your knees. He needs- he needs to focus. He’s hearing but he’s not listening because he can’t when he has to.

“You’re a disgrace.”

The elders were right.

The elders-

His mind snaps to the present. There’s a ringing in his ears, and it takes him a moment to realize yes, it’s not silent.

He understands he needs to hold you down. But- he just did that…?

“Genji, HOLD. Y/N. Sit up and HOLD Y/N! I can’t work with all this thrashing!”

Thrashing. Danger. The dragon is at his fingertips. The dragon wants to do the same as he- kill whatever was hurting you. But there’s nobody here, and so the voice of reason is forced to wrangle two souls, two bodies. Himself, and you.

It’s cold. So cold. For a moment he thinks you’re dead, but really it’s the Gibraltar air.

He registers Angela sitting on your legs, particularly the knee caps just over your thigh to prevent them from buckling and kicking. Her hands are red. So red.

His fingers gain a faint, bright hue. The dragon thickens the air. He needs to help. He needs- the dragon’s demands to-

“Genji.”

The leveled voice brings him past the screams. Angela’s face gives nothing away. There’s only two thin tears, one freshly dropped and another well on its way to break off from her chin.

“Bring your right hand under the laceration. Hold the arm still.”

She’s speaking clearly as day. It’s as though he were in two places at once, or wearing two separate headphones over each ear. His hands obey, a slave to her will. He reels the dragon back. His fingers tremble inside, the metal and internals creating this piercing ache in the joints. He’s simultaneously clenching and trying to relax and it-

“Good. Now, raise your left hand and do the same for the left arm. Wrap your legs around the waist. If it’s not enough, bring one arm over the through and criss cross your arms so that your left arm holds the right and your right arm holds the left. I need stillness to work with.”

-And… and… and He needs to listen. He obeys, resituating his hold in favor of the near sleeper hold he now has over your arms, throat, and chest by proxy.

You’re bucking against him. He’d been so caught up in doing that he hadn’t even noticed your movements. You can’t do anything. He’s too strong.

He’s not grateful toward the cybernetics, but he’s aware they’re helping.

With your body squished close to him, muscles taught, he’s silent. He’s breathing fast, and he reflexively goes into a meditative state. Still, nothing seems to calm his heart.

He’s able to focus now. Only on singular things, but now he knows what he’s looking at and can think.

Two dark, wide marks bloomed purple. The inflammation from the diagonal slices was dominated by the deep plum spreading in the indents.

Did he do that?

He did… he- he was only trying to stop the bleeding, he didn’t mean to hurt you!

Shame coils around his heart, squeezing the vitality right out of it.

The suicide wasn’t his fault. But, this is.

Your cheek burns against his left shoulder, one of the few parts of his body capable of almost meeting the standard sensations a man should feel. It’s inflamed, too. He’d scraped your face enough to bleed against the concrete. Did you have a concussion, too?

Warmth. Liquid. You’re bleeding. Not just from the arms.

“-om. Genji?”

Angela’s voice barks. “Genji!”

Right. He’s at attention now. You’ve stilled, and he’s grateful.

“Genji, you must listen to me! Are you hearing me? GENJI!-”

“H-hai,” (Y-yes) he says.

“The medical wing, Genji. The. Medical. Wing. BITTE.” (PLEASE.)

“H-hai.” He stirs. In a second’s notice he’s at attention, snapping to his feet with you in toe. “H-h…”

“SKYNDA, Hurry. Hurry now! NOW!” (HURRY)

There’s a tourniquet at your elbow, but not both of them. The smeared blood had been wiped, leaving room for more to take over.

He should have-

His feet are swift. Your body is accommodated. He does not trip, and he does not hesitate.

Somehow Lucio knows to meet him halfway, eyes wild and hyper focused. Genji doesn’t stop to listen, only barges in the door and-

Which gurney?-

It takes until both doctors rush past that he realizes he’s got a death grip with you in his hold.

Curtains swing with loud metal clasps and Lucio throws on the nearest scrubs. Angela tries to take you-

“NO.”

She flinches back. The sudden hostility disappears in an instant.

The first to meet the gurney is your feet, the rest steady in following suit. Your calves filled in the space before your thighs, then your hips, your chest…

With one arm free from your lower body, his free hand ghosts your abdomen as he gently, reverently brings your head down, terrified through the numbness of hurting you.

So pale…

Something shoves him back. His feet obey. The bulkhead spins shut and locks. The glass tints, and he’s able to see Angela throw on a plastic poncho for sterility.

And then nothing.

He’s numb.

Numb.

He should feel more. This isn’t right.

None of this is right.

So there he is. Standing there, stiff as a board. He’s suddenly aware of the ringing in his ears, loud and demanding. It reminds him of waking up in his new body, how he hated the world, how… how…

Rage. He doesn’t know what it’s towards. His feet carry him, and everything seems taller. He sat down- right, he sat down -back against the wall. His legs are up, elbows resting on the knees and hanging arms.

“Haven’t seen yer eyes like that in… Hell, what’s it been? Feels like yesterday!”

The source frowns when he doesn’t so much as twitch. Cole tosses aside the charade. Didn’t think it’d work anyway.

So, he joins him. They sit in silence, backs against the wall, only Cassidy’s head lays against it too and one of his hands sports an old, wrapped cigar. It’s hard to find those with the electronic stuff, and he makes his own.

This isn’t an act of comfort, Genji knows. He’s been in this position, sitting with Cole without a single word between them. It’s solidarity.

He just wishes he could hear something.

Anything.

“Hey.”

Genji’s chin raises almost unseen. Acknowledgement.

“Don’t do anything stupid, alright? Y/N’s gonna be fine. I mean,” Cole takes a long drag out of his cigar. The smoke is thick, and Genji hates the taste and smell. “Angela fixed you up. I’m sure she can pull a miracle with two doctors.”

It does nothing to help. The red pupils do not waver in the glow against the hyperactive cybernetics roused by the anger in his veins.

Ting, ting tingtingtingting

His eyes go half lidded. For the first time in the infinite silence, he turns his head to find Cole’s Peacekeeper directed toward the ceiling. All six bullets met the ground, and all but two rolled.

Cole picks them up, twisting the six shooter to the side and setting it in the holster. It’s then Genji notices the waver in his voice, the concern unveiling with each word.

“Shimada,” Cole says, and his breath hitches when Genji’s eyes meet him in a slow drag. The man brings his left arm over to clasp Genji’s, external metal meeting with internal. “I mean it. When you… When- IF, you do something, you don’t have to go alone. OK?”

He finds himself considering this offer, not even taking a moment to think, no, I won’t do that. It’s a genuine debate. Cole sees it, too. Doesn’t say anything.

“... Arigatou.” (Thanks)

The trembling worsens. His voice wavers, but gives nothing else away.

Cole nods slowly and repetitively as if to no one. “Yeah… don’t mention it. Hey!-”

Genji pauses from where he’d gotten on his feet. He catches his mask thrown to him reflexively and clicks it on without a second thought.

“Figured you’d, uh. Want it. Y’know, privacy. Athena kind of… well, she didn’t mean to I don’t think, but…”

Genji’s teeth bare in frustration. He says nothing, and the numbness briefly allows more fury through his heart.

That’s how Angela knew.

That’s how Lucio knew.

That’s how Cole already knew.

“Winston’s uh… messing with something so she doesn’t announce these things to anyone but medical staff and close relations. So if you’re thinking about- Jesus fuck!”

In a split second, Genji was gone. Cole put a hand over his racing heart.

“That’ll never not freak me out…”

– – – – –

The whirring of cleaning bots never before seemed so loud. Too loud, like the footsteps and faint breathing through the halls. He’s alert, as is the dragon, both searching for a danger that wasn’t there.

He hates the raised stares and quickly averted glances. He fucking hates it. The reasons lay under the pressure in his chest, but he’s not going to dawdle on worthless-

Something bumps into his feet. His head snaps to the culprit, a tiny little unit equipped with a rag and small cup of bleach.

A bloody rag.

Your blood.

It snaps under the sheer force of the slam when he picks it up and throws it.

Someone’s approaching him. He shoves them away, only seeing the garden he wanted to get to and throwing up his hood, yanking the string so that he only sees his feet.

To their credit, nobody says anything.

– – – – –

This rage isn’t healthy. It needs to go.

But it’s JUSTIFIED-

Maybe. But it’s just going to get in the way.

He needed a clear head.

Needed to be there, and fully there, when you-

His heart aches, shoulders tremble like he’d bit back pain. His visor blurs. Tears threaten to breach and pool in his helm. But he can’t have that, and reflexively straightens again for the fifth time.

The pink, pink trees…

“You’re a disgrace.”

“Useless boy.”

Genji doesn’t say anything. He instead greets the floor of the dojo with a blank expression found in the youth who tuned out what they could. Hanzo, on the other hand- his brother meets the Elders reviewing their progress halfway, stopping just below their feet.

“Do you refuse archery, or simply are not capable of it?”

He imagines telling them to shut up.

To leave him ALONE.

He’s going to sneak out tonight. Wake up with a hangover and in bed with a girl his age, like he often does. Yagamani-sensei stands straight, face firm, silent in wake of the accusations and chiding remarks. She wasn’t spared from them, either. Normally he does enough so that the blame falls on him.

He’ll have to redouble his efforts. At least so that Kiriko doesn’t whine to him about getting her mother in trouble.

Oh, how he’d forgotten those big eyes. He remembered twisting his neck to get a look of Asa-sensei’s stoney face and catching Kiriko’s. Even so young, her head wrinkled when she was concerned.

“-USELESS BOY, DO NOT IGNORE ME-”

So he thinks of something else.

“Bit on the nose, Shimada-san?”

Genji’s wide grin threatens to break with the rest of his face as it all dissolves against chuckles. “No. In fact… I think it needs more.”

Kiriko rolls her eyes. “Alright. Stand straight.”

In a moment’s notice, the girl had balanced on his shoulders and scampered a few feet up the wall, fingers locking around protruding wood and allowing her to gain more distance from the ground.

Genji couldn’t do that anymore without being too loud - which, while silent to him, must not be the case for some of the Elders - and Kiriko needed help to get that high. Her hand reaches out when he can barely see her from the dark spurned from the hanging chime-roof of the uchi-deshi, and he throws one of the spray cans she needs. There’s a “shhhhhhhhhhhh” and some muffled coughing.

He’s not really sure how she can see better than he can in the shadows, but maybe her eyes were adjusted more than his.

There’s a scuff of a sliding door, and Genji freezes. Kiriko seems to have heard it, too, and he catches her, clinging her close to his chest and sprinting off at mach 10. There’s footsteps behind him, and he’s absolutely certain that even without seeing him, they were determined to see his face to find out who exactly had just vandalized the Elder’s claimed quarters.

“Hurry, Shimada-san! Hurry!”

She crawls on his back and clings for the life of her. He wastes no time- his hands dig into a sakura tree rough enough to litter his fingers with splinters, and next he’s curled up on the highest branch in the deepest recesses of the cherry blossoms he can find.

He sits there for an eternity. Kiriko’s nose brushes air into his shoulder blades, and with the close proximity he can even feel the twitch of her eyelids when she blinks or how her face shifts when she looks around without moving out of fear of being caught.

He’s certain the elders were still looking. He doesn’t want to move. But, Kiriko’s loud whisper “My mom’s gonna notice I’m gone!” drew from a jar of special circumstances and he wrangles his way down onto a branch stretching toward the nearest wall and pulls himself up and over-

-and right into five very, very angry Elders, with his father standing behind him after being roused from his slumber. The screaming - oh, the rage. They never laid a hand on him, and especially not Kiriko, but both had to endure the screeching coming from the Elders’ mouths.

Not his best act of deviance. Some of the spray paint had rubbed off on his, and Kiriko’s entire upper face was a deep cerulean blue.

He remembers Asa-sensei whacking him on his back with a wooden sword the next morning. He remembers looking over at Kiriko with a red mark on the back of her wrist that implied she’d gotten an earful from Asa-sensei and spotting her upper face still had a faint coat of blue. It’d be days before she could scrub it off, and until that happened, Asa-sensei's promises to make training grueling.

It did him good. It really did. Made him more… careful, in setting up his trickery prior to carrying it out. Kiriko had leaned against him lazily when it came to lunch, and Genji put a ball of rice on her tray as a sort of compensation.

“Whatever for, Shimada-san?”

“You know…”

“Ah, but I asked to join you!”

“Eat. Your mother is very angry with me.”

“She’s always angry with you!”

“She is not!”

“Is too!”

“Quiet!” Hanzo barks, and Genji rolls his eyes. “Have you no respect for the silence meant for this hour?”

“Eating isn’t always silent, Hanzo-san!” Kiriko protests. Her eyes sparkle. “I chew loudly all the time!”

As if to emphasize, she stuffs her mouth with the rice ball and chews with her mouth open.

Hanzo’s nose curls and he looks away in disgust. Genji admits, he’s not a fan of the sight, but he shoves as much food as he can in his mouth until his cheeks are inflated with dumplings and both make a point to annoy the elder son until lunch ends.

He remembers Kiriko pinching his arm. “You really showed him, Shimada-san!”

Only, it’s not Kiriko who says that. He sees you, hears YOU.

Reality comes crashing back down. The sounds are different. The light is different. His mind is boggled trying to process the how and why because hadn’t he been acutely aware of his surroundings the whole time? Why was the sun in the east? It’s supposed to set in the west, what has happened?

He looks around, heart lurching in confusion, and is shocked to learn Zenyatta had sat directly at his side.

Slowly, Genji lets out a shuddering breath. Then another. His lips part and the breathing stays shaky. His temple is coated in sweat, and he’s acutely aware of the slick warmth on his cheeks and pooled at his chin.

Someone’s watching him. He can tell.

“My pupil,” Zenyatta says gently. “Do not be ashamed to express your anger.”

Genji’s heart and brain latch onto the familiar comfort. “Master,” he chokes out. “Master-...!”

Gentle arms wrap around him. A hand settles on his side, another wrapped around his chest, and Zenyatta is silent, hesitant in what to say. Genji’s chest keeps up a steady rise and fall, deep breaths the only thing standing between him and the brink of no return.

There’d been many a night like this. When his anger cooled, he’d be left with shame. Shame for-

For…

“You must drink. It is important to hydrate when one is tearful.”

He doesn’t pay any mind to the golden arm that’s manifested from thin air, nor to the one unclasping his face mask. Steam shoots out briefly, pressure escaping and freeing his face to the frozen world. The tiny bowl is brought to his lips and he drinks, gulps tiny.

When it’s pulled away, he is gasping for air like a dying man granted something he’d needed for a long time.

You’d like the dawn. It’s dawn. Yes. That’s why the sun is in the east. He almost smiles, but he can’t. A choked sound comes out and a snot bubble pops, lips trembling. He licks over his lip so it doesn’t get in his mouth, salty tears catching in the mix. He spits it, phlegm catching on the toe of his boots.

It seems for hours he’s hyperventilating. The numbness is still there, but now it’s parting to allow other feelings to break through the broken dam.

“Let the discord troubling your soul flow freely,” Zenyatta gently advises. This isn’t a suggestion, or simply a warm word, and Genji is reminded of sitting at the highest pique of Nepal in nothing but a loincloth and taking every which word to heart.

There’s a serene calm blooming in his chest. And yet, he still seems to cry. The orb at his shoulder gleams gold, and Genji cannot for the life of him hold back the tears.

“Good… I am proud of you, Genji.”

He breaks down in full, body wracking sobs.

More arms wrap around him. All of them gold.

He lets out a scream.

He screams and screams and lets out slurs and obscenities, he rants in a pitch that cannot differentiate words from each other, the anger and weeping melding into one in a sick unyielding combination and all he knows it the despair rushing from his lungs until his throat is too hoarse to hurt his own ears. So still he screams, and screams, and screams, and this lasts until he breaks down in sobs thick enough to make snot drain down his throat, leaving him gargling and forcing it out so he can breathe. The grass directly in front becomes an abominable mess, his master’s pant leg joining in the harsh amalgamation of bodily fluid.

He’s in a daze. He doesn’t know when the screaming stopped.

Cool metallic digits press against his eyelids, and he’s acutely aware just how tired he is.

“M-... m…. Master…?”

Zenyatta speaks warmly, and it does everything to bandage his heart. “Yes, Genji?”

He wants to pass out.

“H-... How long have I-?”

“Two moons. Now please, allow yourself to rest.”

Two days?...

…Yeah….Seems about right…..

– – – – –

When he wakes up, he’s not alone.

The room forms crisp and clear. In the dim flickering light, no matter his brother’s shadow, he can make out every which detail he knows by heart.

He knows what time it is- he can feel it in the air. For years he’s woken up at exactly 5AM like clockwork during his time in Blackwatch. He’d curl around you right about now…

His fingers squeeze the empty spot in the single bed. You’d both have to sleep on your sides or one would lay on the other, and he liked it that way. He’d done it like that in Nepal with some of the other monks, but it hadn’t been quite the same as when he’d met you while traveling the world. Even at the beginning it’d never been for sex. His libido had seriously tanked when his body took up more machine than man, and the mentality he’s gone through certainly didn’t help.

With how he’s still coming to, he knows everything happening without seeing or hearing. The careful carving of an arrow, the blade freeing miniscule and seemingly unneeded shavings from the body. The dip in the cookie-cutter matching mattress in every living space in Gibraltar and curling of the sheet. The specs of dust and old skin flakes, impossible to see and yet, it is as though he had each and every one under a microscope.

He knows his brother knows that he knows that Hanzo knows he’s awake when the blade is sat down and the arrow along with it.

Hanzo’s voice is awkward. Hesitant. “How… are you doing?”

His brother doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to do.

Funny. Neither does he.

Regardless he tries to speak, only to cough and his throat to ache like a picked scab. Genji gasps deeply, desperate to ease the pain, and he welcomes the water given and tries not to choke on it. Instantly the pain is numbed, though the lingering dryness remains. His brother must have obtained some droplets from Angela-

The first to meet the gurney is your feet, the rest steady in following suit. Your calves filled in the space before your thighs, then your hips, your chest…

With one arm free from your lower body, his free hand ghosts your abdomen as he gently, reverently brings your head down, terrified through the numbness of hurting you.

So pale…

-to soothe his throat. He flinched, and his brother breathed deeply.

Hanzo remains seated, knees making imprints in the old Gibraltar carpet Genji had salvaged from a storage closet so he could eat alone. Genji sits up, shoulders curved and legs crossed, eyes dry. He lowers himself onto the floor once the low wooden table is unfolded and Hanzo places something he’d kept in a folded cloth knapsack. Genji doesn’t bother to check what it is, chewing silently.

How he wishes this was with you…

“I… Your love will survive.”

Genji laughs bitterly. Dry, flat. Then how come no one has told him you’re awake? At least now he knows the unanswered question he’d been terrified to speak of as though he’d cement your fate.

Hanzo’s tone firms. “I speak truthfully. I have… experienced worse. And have survived.”

Genji’s hands slow at grasping the food offered on his side. His brother’s eyes don’t meet him, but it’s out of a different kind of shame. Hanzo doesn’t look up, eating silently, and slowly Genji returns to eating his own portion.

Now he recognizes what it was. Rations.

When it’s gone it’s like his mind blanks. He’s not really sure what to do. It’s as though he were a robot, only acting on the commands given to him.

Both brothers freeze when a different voice breaks the silence. “Genji Shimada, I apologize. I had only acted under my standard protocol so that proper medical attention could be administered post haste. Please, forgive me.”

Athena.

For a split second, his pupils flash crimson.

Then they return to normal.

She hadn’t meant to tell everyone. She’d meant to help you, just as he had. Only, the AI wasn’t frozen in what to do.

He should be grateful. Instead he’s hateful, and shame builds up in him.

Hanzo exhales deeply. He takes a moment to speak. “... Thank you, Athena. Now leave us be.”

“I understand.” A pause. It’s as though the AI is hesitating. “Genji, Y/N is conscious. Angela Ziegler demanded my silence on the matter, but I believe it is wise to inform you of Y/N’s wellbeing so as to ensure your wellness.”

 Genji’s shoulders are stiff. He’s tense like a string on an instrument left wound up for far, far too long and about to be plucked.

“I will take my leave now. Please undergo subtlety in the event you wish for visitation.”

Genji’s at his feet in an instant.

Hanzo does not follow.

He follows through the halls as if in a dream, automatically finding his way to the medical wing and numb to the flashes he gets of rushing you into the gurney.

As expected, he finds the bulkhead locked. He stands there, stiff and unmoving, an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

The locks ping off.

Athena.

Angela’s voice flies through the air in an instant, accent thick. “Who in zheir RIGHT MIND forced zhe door open vhen I ztrictly ztated no vizitorz unless in zhe event of a medical emergenzy!?”

He steps in. The door twists and shuts behind him.

Sterile smells and cool air mix with bright, blinding light. A tinted holographic window hovered over a different gurney than the one he’d sat you in.

He remembers this. He remembers laying there as his body is rebuilt, bolt by bolt, sheath of synthetic skin by sheath of synthetic skin…

A pale hand throws the curtain open and Angela’s eyes are wide with fury. When she sees him, she freezes. “Genji-”

He doesn’t care. He looks past her, through her, unto you.

You’re on your side, food untouched, the thin hospital gown and subpar blankets surely not providing you with the warmth you needed. He wanted to scream at her - was it not obvious you were cold by how you curled away from the world in favor of the cubicle wall?

“I do not wish to speak to you,” Genji states. It’s flat and without room for argument, the formality giving away the anger hidden away, and Angela picks off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose.

The stress lines are deeper than usual. Her eyes are bloodshot. Has she even slept?

Angela tugs the curtains closed. He goes to yank them open. She grabs his wrist, and the air thickens with tension. He doesn’t look at her. She doesn't look at him. Both are glaring ahead, though for different reasons. He tries to yank his arm free, gently albeit in warning, and she doesn’t let go. When it becomes clear if she doesn’t give a good explanation that he’ll knock her on her ass, she breathes deeply.

“Y/N specifically requested solitude.”

“I am the exception.”

“No, you are not.”

His arm yanks free. “By what standard?”

“Y/N’s standard.”

He paused. Angela takes another deep breath. “Y/N does not wish to see you. Lucio and I have been forced to practically stand guard so as to prevent direct interaction because you are not supposed to be in here.”

“What… why-”

“Genji, bitte, please.”

Angela’s pleading eyes do nothing to deter him, although he does think about it.

She glances back at the curtain, voice hushed. “... I’ve… had patients like this before. The lacerations were deep to the point we considered replacement. We salvaged both arms by sheer luck given the blood loss and trauma to the veins, muscle, tendons, and bone. Y/N fully intended to die, and when patients have this escape interrupted… they become quite angry.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve only been able to talk to Y/N because I managed to explain myself as not the one to interrupt-”

“So. It is my fault.”

Angela shakes her head. “It’s no one’s fault-”

“It is my fault,” Genji repeats, steady and low, “because you did not wish to take responsibility, and so the blame is centered on me.”

“That’s not what I said-”

“Move.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but he’s already at your side.

You look lethargic… anemic, even. Were there no matches for your blood type? Have you seen the sun? Shouldn’t he have been there the very moment you’d woken up?

His fingers shake an inch from your shoulder. Ever so gently he touches your skin, jerking his hand back with you slap it away.

He can hear Angela scoff in frustration. “Five minutes! If you are still here, so help me God I will have Winston throw you out!”

He bites back, “And contaminate the hospital with an animal?”

She stiffens. He sneers, “Didn’t think so.”

After that, his only focus is on you.

He should have done more. Logically, he already knows it’s not because of him. But… he’s tried, and it wasn’t enough. Did he really give it his all?

You’d join him in meditation per his request. Shared meals, spent late nights talking to or with him. Pressed against him, loving him, and he returned that love. You’d never harmed yourself, and maybe, he thought, that if it doesn’t get better, at least he managed this.

Genji whimpers. “Please… my love.”

He reaches over your side, clasping your hand in his. You tried to yell at him to leave you alone, cursing him for your survival, swearing and trying to pull away, and he’s fairly certain Angela is demanding he let go but he doesn’t.

He can’t.

When you break down crying he buries his face into the mattress, squeezing your hand. You’re squeezing back, and he can’t even tell if it’s for comfort or to get him to leave you alone. He’s pleading, my love, let me in. Let me help. I can help, I can, if nothing else let me know what I can fix, let me-

Someone’s yelling at him again. It’s not Angela, it’s not Lucio, and something sharp is jabbed into his neck.

Genji snaps back with a shout, yanking out the foreign object.

A dart. His eyes snap open, vision blurring. Ana stares him down, face hard and giving nothing away.

Angela made due on her promise.

Genji’s head meets the floor with a harsh ‘thunk’. Were it not for his cybernetics, Angela would’ve been concerned about a concussion.

She snakes her arms around his side, flipping him over onto his back and grunting with the effort to move him even an inch. “Ana- c-urrrrrgh, dispose of the- the needle-”

Ana didn’t need to be told. She’d already picked it up and sealed it in a lonesome baggy, snapping shut the translucent container meant for disposable hazards before she got to ground level and hooked her arms around Genji’s knees. His limbs hang limply, and though her age wore down on her back, Ana offers to switch sides.

When they finally make it to his quarters, Hanzo peers up with furrowed brows. “What has happened?”

Angela, exasperated, demands Hanzo take him. He gets his arms under Genji, setting him right back down in his bed. Angela leans against the doorframe, panting heavily, and Ana sets her hands on her hips, stretching straight. “Ohhh…. I’m gonna feel that in the morning….”

“I… apologize. I did not know he would interfere with-”

Hanzo loses his voice. Angela’s death glare softens, and briefly her eyes flicker to Ana wandering off.

“Keep an eye on him,” she commands. “I understand the need to be close to loved ones, but he is not to enter the medical wing again without proper justification. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Angela brushes her shirt down. “Good… good. And tell him!” Her finger is held up as though to get the last word in. “That if he does it again, I will make sure to have several tranquilizers at hand. And Lucio will too, so don’t even think of sneaking in! And if that doesn’t work, I will personally compensate Captain Amari to sit at Y/N’s side 24/7!”

The door is forced shut.

Hanzo stands at his lonesome.

Gently, he brings the blankets over his brother’s form. And for the first time in days, he sees a blank, untroubled sleeping face.

[my-white-canvas]

Oooooo~ I find your current reader interactive thing fun, I wanna help! So, to the reader: First off, completely change your appearance if you haven't tried that already. Even if it confuses your allies it'll confuse your enemies too, and you'll have more leeway in revealing yourself on your own terms. Secondly, this is more of a question; Is anyone else besides yourself aware of you dimension jumping?

Oh thank you, dear reader, and your help seems to be more logical than others that I have seen.

I will be naming your SAGAU self as your current username, this story was made for you, after all, no one else but you have thought of this for yourself

But with your request, I have a little something in mind

Three days.

It said on the screen "three days before transportation, communication sensors, active"

" First off, completely change your appearance if you haven't tried that already. Even if it confuses your allies it'll confuse your enemies too, and you'll have more leeway in revealing yourself on your own terms. Secondly, this is more of a question; Is anyone else besides yourself aware of your dimension jumping?"

"Message delivered"

A brief moment was struck to their head as they remembered what happened to them.

Another message was displayed on the screen

"Timeline No. 1 discarded, do you wish to move forward with this timeline?"

Would you want to move on with this timeline? That would make this story too short. For now, let's go onward with this timeline.

Yes | No

"Three days before transportation"

Storing up things you might need to survive the harsh conditions one would need to stay on teyvat; Food, clothing, and some tools are essential but also stored some things required for the disguise, like makeup, contacts, and wigs just in case one needs to change their identity again.

With everything packed, it was heavy and difficult to carry but are needed.

"Two days before transportation"

Practicing the techniques to completely change one's look was tiring. After spending day two the method was near perfected after countless tutorials and looking at the mirror all day, of course, they get better ones really used.

"One day before transportation"

On the final day before the start of their fate, sharpening their skill of survival but as time passed eventually thinking how someone would survive their fate.

"Transportation beginning"

Midnight struck and their time was out, they could only hope their preparation can be brought with them.

"Only a thought 'spectator' me, I think other timelines are the other you's choices, you chose to help me by telling me what we need to do, while others tell other me's to go Minecraft mode. But awareness, I don't know. That's my only answer to you."

A flash-bang came and blinded them for a moment which was their way to Teyvat, without a moment to spare they immediately disguised themselves as close to a local of Mondstat as possible.

After that, they trudge through the landscape to find civilization even if it means the people might find out who they are.

After eating her salad Mona went to pay her rent for the month and got home as a call awaited her divination. She had a gut feeling for a while to do so, and so she did. Through her scry glass, she saw a vision of a divine light, whose figure cannot be seen, ascending from the soil and forming a blurred figure for itself right on Mondstat's soil. With such news, she reported it to the Ordo Favonius.

The news spread out wide across Teyvat that the Divine one has come and each nation deployed its people to find the Divine one has returned.

They eventually arrived at a small village with many elderly people, probably Qingce Village, they surrounded themselves with these people and avoided suspicion from the guards, and the people minding their business, they were left in the background.

Is this how you would survive?

"This ending is peaceful. I like this ending. But how do I get home?"

Do you like this ending, dear reader? Is there something you want to change? Or would you like to discard this timeline as well?

[sw5w]

Artoo-Detoo

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:25:57

[greywake]

I went with "underwater" and "carefully". I blame @gumnut-logic 😁

AO3 link if anyone prefers

A Little Curiosity is a Dangerous Thing

“Virgil, dear, have you seen Turbo?”

He blinked in surprise at his grandmother’s question, “No, actually.”

Sally nodded, a worried frown tugging at her brows, “She’s never missed dinner before…”

He rose from his piano stool and strode over to his father’s desk, activating the holo display and inputting the command to locate the transponder on the kitten’s collar. A steady blink of blue indicated that she was near one of the beaches on the southern side of the island.

“I’ll go and get her, Grandma. Don’t worry. She’s probably climbed a tree and got stuck.”

“Be careful, dear.”

Virgil smiled and nodded acknowledgement of the family matriarch’s command before heading out of the house. He paused to grab a length of climbing rope just in case the bundle of mischief had got herself into a particularly awkward position.

Walking briskly along the trail in deference to the westering sun, he hummed to himself as he slung the rope over his shoulder and stuck his hands in his pockets. That kitten… she had certainly kept life on Tracy island interesting in the month since he’d found her hiding in an engine compartment in Thunderbird Two. She had adopted him almost immediately, happily spent time with Grandma, Kayo, and Brains, tolerated Scott and Alan, and apparently delighted in torturing Gordon. John apparently required study and was currently on probation pending her approval.

Rounding the bend in the path, he double-checked his phone for her location and hurried forward, eyes scanning the trees ahead for signs of a small black kitten in a tree. He frowned, concern growing as he could see no evidence of the animal. The sun would disappear below the horizon in a bit under an hour and finding Turbo in the dark would be next to impossible.

With time against him, he called for help, “John, have you got a minute?”

The image of his space-bound brother appeared hovering over his phone screen, “How can I help?”

Virgil grimaced, “Turbo’s missing. Her transponder’s pinging at this location but I can’t find her anywhere and I’m losing light.”

John nodded and trained Thunderbird Five's powerful sensors on the island.

"Virgil, she's not in a tree. She's below you."

He bit back an expletive. "The sea cave?"

His brother nodded, concern writ plain on his blue-tinted face, "And the tide is already more than halfway in."

“Better move fast then.” He cut the connection and hurried down the steep path to the currently submerged beach. He paused a little way above the high tide mark, tore off his boots and socks, then secured the rope he'd thought to bring around a convenient rock. He looped the other end around his own waist to act as an anchor against the current and took the first step into the water.

Damn, it was cold! Not like the reef-protected waters of the lagoon, sun-warmed and crystal clear. This was the ocean and she didn't care about being warm enough for an evening swim.

Gritting his teeth against the water temperature, Virgil waded, hip-deep, into the mouth of the cave. It wasn't a particularly big one, but it burrowed pretty deep into the bluff and he just hoped that Turbo hadn't climbed in further than he could go.

Wishing that he had his shoulder-mounted torch with him, he stuck his penlight in his mouth to free up his hands as the water reached his waist. The little circle of light played around the stone walls of the cave as he moved deeper in, working to keep his balance against the regular push-pull of the tide. One particularly large wave nearly knocked him off his feet as it surged past and a moment later there was a distressed squeal up ahead.

Fumbling the torch from his mouth, he shone it in the direction of the sound and caught the flash of Turbo’s eyes reflecting the light back around ten metres ahead of him. He couldn’t help but smile as he spotted her, especially when she meowed at the sight of him.

Trying to take advantage of the forward push of the water, Virgil surged forwards, closing the distance until he could reach the kitten.

She was soaked to the skin, making her seem even smaller than usual, shivering, and had managed to perch herself on a tiny ledge which was alarmingly close to being submerged by the incoming tide.

Virgil reached out to her, talking gently to try and soothe her distress and persuade her to let him pick her up. He need not have worried.

As soon as his hand was in range, the bedraggled kitten leapt at him and clawed her way over his sleeve to reach her preferred perch on his shoulder.

He winced at the needles sticking into his skin through the wet flannel but was more than happy to follow the imperious command mewed into his ear. If that wasn’t an instruction to get out he didn’t know what was.

Returning the penlight to his mouth, he hauled on the rope to help bring them both through the now chest-high water and back to the entrance. It was exhausting work, fighting against the tide and the cold, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage when it meant saving both himself and the sodden kitten on his shoulder.

Back out of the cave and onto solid land, Virgil swiftly untied the rope from its anchor point, grabbed his boots, and jogged barefoot back to the villa with Turbo complaining with every bounce.

Seeing the lights of the house, with Grandma silhouetted in the open doorway brought a smile to his face.

A smile that grew even broader when he reached her and she bundled Turbo into a warm towel.

“You, go clean up while I give this little one a nice bath to warm her up after her ordeal.”

The kitten chirped and stared adoringly up at the family matriarch before turning back to Virgil and blinking at him slowly.

He grinned as he headed up to his rooms to shower.

That cat was trouble but he couldn’t ever regret the day that she decided to adopt him.

[metallix-mixin]

Carbon Cafe

The cool morning air streamed in breezily through an open window, window blinds billowing gently from wisps of wind as the shimmering sunlight beamed in through the evanescent divide forming in uneven patterns as the blinds parted and relapsed again. My sensors, struck with such divine illumination, forced me awake- and simulated eyes drift open slowly, as if fatigued by my rest.

Undoing myself from the tangle of covers I had somehow ended up within during the previous evening, legs were swung over the edge of my place of ease and onto the meticulously laid hardwood- steelen shoes clicking against it as I groggily translated across the floor, throwing open the blinds fully and overloading my lenses with light. They adjust quickly, and my pace therefore matches- opening the rest of the windows until my modest room is alight with blazing morning sunshine. With laden eyes and stretching limbs, I acquire my attire for the day from its predestined spot- neatly laid out the previous day, cleaned and folded as if it were looking to impress anyone other than my own analytical eyes.

And leaping down from my trapdoor hidden place of rest, into the proper sanctuary of sweet smells and warmth I call my home- I continue my quest- throwing open large, bold panes, and setting up carefully preserved tarts and treats into neatly arranged displays. With a most gentle hand, I chalk words of ‘specials’ and a ‘daily menu’ onto a blackboard stand, and upon the board above my uniquely barren countertops.

With the day’s setup underway, and my sign firmly planted as ‘closed’- I begin making way into my personal workshop of saccharine delicacies and pleasant aromas. Forges alight, I mix and pour alloys of chocolate and flour and sugar into trays, cast into the contained inferno which needs no bellows to function. Carefully crafted decors upon valiant pedestals of soft vanilla, strawberry engravings dancing along their frosted surface. Honeyed mixtures of leaves and sugar make their way into crucibles of steel intended to keep them warm…

Songs of gentle solace quietly erupt from my metallic vocalization, whispering sweetened promises to no one in particular… until-

I am interrupted from my craftsmanship by the sound of gentle ringing bells- and my shop door opening. Frustrated, as I was most assured that my sign was flipped to signify my closure- I stepped out from the divinely smelling workplace. However, instead of a target of rage, what I find to have so rudely interjected my solitary morn was, in truth, a most generous gift from the hands of fate. A vibrant pink fills my oculars, far more sightstealing than any of my most egregious decors- eyes that gleamed with a gentle flame, passionate yet sympathetic- and a smile I will forever wish could be solely directed to me.

Softened greetings are shared between us, as I feel an unnatural heat rising to my titanium cheeks- leaning over the whitewood counter with a bubbling excitement rising to my chest. Despite my adamant refusal to serve any outside of working hours, or dare to stray from my ever gently crafted menus and rules- something about that face drives me to other places, and my logical mind fails to calculate the exact reasons for quite anything I do around it.

With giddiness unmatched, I flick on the griddle behind the counter- no longer legendary in its view to me, as I have a yet vaster enchanted object across from it instead- and into a bowl I cautiously break eggs and pour flour and sugar and sweetness- and from my box of cooled ingredients I grasp a most peculiar fruit. As quickly as it is chosen, it is sliced and diced- its unleashed juices adding to the bowled concoction and tainting it a soft rosy tint. The mixture leaves its container, now bubbling upon the heated griddle amongst butters and oils- flipping over once gently crisped on one side, and then stacking high upon a plate, joined by sliced fruits and powdered sugar.

The dish finds its way to the counter, accompanied by a pair of utensils- and sat upon a stool, my ever welcome guest graciously accepts my creation. In my state of clouded awareness, I only hardly notice the eyes looking in from beyond the reaches of my atmospheric building- and fail to comprehend their whispers and gossiped smirks.

Words are shared betwixt us, and, when it is most unfortunately time for my guest’s departure, I smile warmly and wave to them, as they return the gesture, stepping out into the cool morning.

Now once more alone with myself, I step back into my workshop- removing my saccharine creations from their forges and placing them neatly on displays, visible to those who wish to step inside, or those already browsing my offered treats. Then, with a swift movement, I flip the sign upon my door to read its antithesis, and stand behind the counter- as the quiet breeze is replaced by a morning bustle of cityfolk, eager to receive their breakfasts and brunch- and, perhaps… whisper what they had seen before between each other, their voices soft as the breeze they had just replaced.

I do not mind.

[spocks-evil-godmother]

just some tuvok thoughts

tuvok is my favorite voyager character (sorry seven) and i think he is just great, and specifically i think he is great in how he relates to other people. to maybe give voice to the thing i am thinking of, it is that tuvok is interesting because he is the third iteration of a chief of security and the second vulcan to have a like really central role.

to the latter point, this is very obviously because leonard nimoy as spock was just SO iconic and so defining for TOS that i think it was very fair for TNG especially to avoid adding a vulcan and risk a sense of "redoing" the character (because everyone would hate that) and together with DS9 creating a distinct and fleshed-out universe that didn't necessarily revolve around the same exact themes of TOS. as sequels, not reboots, they could wander into their own territory and make their own way, which meant not looking at vulcans as a very central part of the stories. i get why they waited until VOY.

when it comes to the chief of security part, that is interesting then because finally, we return to vulcans, who have not been people on the main cast since TOS, placed in this bridge officer role that did not exist on TOS. tasha yar was the first COS, then worf, and then odo. in the case of all three characters, i feel like there is something fairly unVulcan about all of them. yar sought out security as a resolution to a chaotic childhood filled with violence; safety is a profoundly emotional experience for her. worf's central arc generally relates to becoming an honorable warrior—though interpersonally worf can be standoffish or brusque, when there is a cultural expectation for emotional display in battle, worf always rises to the occasion. odo, like worf, can be brusque (perhaps even harsh, or cold). i feel like there's something to be said about how perhaps ideally we would read these characters as being fairly unemotional—but then, when I think about how much they display anger (not necessarily inappropriately! just that they are often angry or annoyed) I think that isn't true at all. in fact, between all those characters, i feel like they together make the case that to be a good chief of security (or warrior, or defender of justice) you must be angry, because your anger makes you both powerful and attuned to the needs of those you love, when they need you. worf and odo love BIG.

enter tuvok, who does not experience love (or love, as we might feel it).

though equally impersonal and detached as the others, in some regards, tuvok has none of the big love or big anger that his forerunners have held. he is vulcan, and the last vulcan we've seen on a bridge has shown how well-suited vulcans are to be dispassionate scientists, just the facts please and thank you. what would motivate a logical, unemotional being to become a defender?

and like on a practical level, i don't know. backstory is whatever. but i think if i am asking myself, what does logic bring to the role of protector?, then my answer is evaluation.

obviously i am just ranting and raving about tuvok because i watched the season 2 episode "innocence" today BUT this episode really does encapsulate what i love in him and i think what the writers wanted us to love in him as well. certainly, there is a lot of humor in mr. very serious being confronted with three children who just want to play play play!!! but there is a lot of seriousness there, too. it's very serious that tuvok runs into frightened children and says, i will stay with you and watch over you. it is serious that they tell him there is a monster in the darkness and they are afraid of it, and he says, my sensors do not detect the presence of a monster, but the absence of readings does not confirm the absence of a monster; i will stay with you and watch over you. and it is serious still that when a little girl who is afraid of dying alone asks him to save her, he assures her that he cannot interrupt her natural life cycle but understands that she will only feel safe enough to leave if he is with her; i will stay with you and watch over you.

in no moment is tuvok himself taken over by his emotions. he calmly evaluates every situation. he listens to the children. he soothes them. and, as strange as it seems, he entertains their fears. he admits that he cannot confirm the nonexistence of a monster, but if there is a monster it is not nearby so it's okay to sleep and if it comes nearby he will be awake to chase it away. i think what is the most stunning thing about tuvok is that he is sympathetic to but completely unafraid of the children's emotions. are they like kinda annoying him, sure. but he accepts their emotions as they are—he does not feel pressured by their fear to change his own behavior. and his ability to evaluate it all, the situation, the children, the future, is the thing that creates the sense of safety that ultimately allows the children to die peacefully.

this episode's probably most iconic moment (or maybe i just think about it all the time idk) is when a child asks him if being vulcan means he doesn't love his own children, and tuvok replies, "My attachment to my children cannot be described as an emotion. They are part of my identity, and I am incomplete without them."

we could make a whole post about that, if we wanted, but i gotta go to bed. instead, i would just posit that the same is true for the identity tuvok has built for himself as a chief of security and a defender. his motives in protecting others are not because of an emotion. he is not angry, or sad, or scared, or upset. but it is logical to maintain the safety of a community to maintain to order of a community—and through experience and effort he has learned how to evaluate whether or not something is safe.

and, i think, if you are a little child, and you think, maybe there is a monster going to eat me, and possibly this is the scariest thing that has ever happened to you, the kindest thing a grown-up can do is say "i don't see any monsters, but i am prepared in the event that they show up. i will stay with you and watch over you. good night."

[jjinno]

Top Plant Engineering & Consulting Services | Advanced MEP, Solar & BIM Solutions in Pune

In today's industrial landscape, Instrumentation and Control Systems play an integral role in ensuring smooth operations, maintaining efficiency, and enhancing safety across a wide range of sectors. From power plants and oil refineries to manufacturing units and HVAC systems, these technologies are critical for precise monitoring, control, and automation of complex processes.

This article explores the various aspects of instrumentation and control systems, their key components, applications, and benefits, along with the growing importance of integrating advanced engineering services, such as Mechanical, Electrical, and Plumbing (MEP) design, BIM Services, and Solar Energy Production in optimizing industrial performance.

What Are Instrumentation and Control Systems?

Instrumentation refers to the tools and devices used to measure and monitor different parameters like temperature, pressure, flow, and level in industrial processes. These devices provide real-time data that operators and automated control systems use to ensure that processes stay within desired limits.

Control systems, on the other hand, take the information from instrumentation devices and make adjustments to ensure the system is operating efficiently. This includes both manual interventions and automated controls. Together, these systems form the backbone of many industrial processes.

Key Components of Instrumentation and Control Systems

Sensors: Sensors are at the heart of any instrumentation system. They detect and measure physical properties such as temperature, pressure, flow, or level, converting them into electrical signals that can be interpreted by control systems.

Transmitters: These devices take the signal generated by the sensor and amplify or modify it so it can be sent over long distances or be compatible with control equipment.

Controllers: Controllers process the signals from the sensors and make decisions based on programmed instructions. Common controllers include Programmable Logic Controllers (PLC) and Distributed Control Systems (DCS), which adjust the operation of actuators and valves to keep processes within the desired parameters.

Valves and Actuators: Actuators are devices that physically adjust processes, such as opening or closing a valve to regulate the flow of material in a pipe. Valves, in turn, are the mechanisms controlled by actuators that directly influence the flow, pressure, or temperature in a system.

Human-Machine Interfaces (HMIs): HMIs allow operators to monitor and control processes via a visual interface. This could be a touchscreen or computer system that displays real-time data and offers manual override capabilities if needed.

The Importance of Instrumentation in Industry

Industries depend on accurate, real-time data to manage their operations. Without proper instrumentation, it would be impossible to monitor the key variables of a process. For instance, maintaining the right temperature and pressure is vital in oil refining to prevent explosions or inefficient processing.

Instrumentation and control systems enhance operational efficiency, reduce downtime, ensure safety, and ultimately increase profitability. For sectors such as pharmaceuticals, food processing, and chemical manufacturing, these systems also ensure compliance with stringent quality and safety standards.

Benefits of Instrumentation and Control Systems

Improved Safety: Automated control systems respond faster than human operators, preventing dangerous conditions from developing. For example, in power plants, instrumentation systems help prevent overheating or excessive pressure buildup.

Efficiency and Accuracy: Control systems enable precision in managing processes, which leads to improved efficiency. Accurate data collection minimizes errors and waste, allowing for better use of resources.

Predictive Maintenance: These systems can also predict potential equipment failures before they occur, based on patterns in the data. This allows for maintenance to be performed proactively, reducing downtime and costly repairs.

Energy Management: Instrumentation plays a crucial role in managing energy consumption, especially in industries using HVAC systems and solar energy production. By monitoring energy usage, businesses can optimize energy consumption and reduce costs.

Data Logging and Analytics: Modern control systems can store vast amounts of data, which can be used for analysis, reporting, and decision-making. This data can help organizations optimize their operations by identifying areas for improvement.

The Integration of MEP, BIM, and Solar Energy in Plant Engineering

To meet the demands of today’s complex industrial projects, traditional instrumentation and control systems are now integrated with advanced MEP services and BIM (Building Information Modeling) systems. These technologies enhance overall plant design and streamline operations by offering detailed planning, simulation, and energy-efficient solutions.

Mechanical, Electrical, and Plumbing (MEP) Design: MEP design is essential in ensuring that a plant's mechanical, electrical, and plumbing systems work harmoniously. From designing HVAC systems to planning plumbing and fire protection, MEP engineering plays a critical role in plant design, construction, and operation.

Building Information Modeling (BIM) Services: BIM technology offers a digital representation of physical and functional characteristics of a facility. This allows for detailed visualization of how instrumentation and control systems integrate with the overall plant structure, reducing the likelihood of errors and improving project management efficiency.

Solar Energy Production and Integration: As the global demand for renewable energy grows, industries are increasingly turning to solar energy as a viable solution for their power needs. Instrumentation systems can be used to monitor solar energy production, ensuring that energy generation meets the plant’s demands. Additionally, solar power reduces reliance on fossil fuels, promoting sustainable and cost-effective operations.

Instrumentation and Control Systems in Power Generation

In power generation, whether from conventional sources like coal and natural gas or renewable sources like solar and wind, the role of instrumentation and control systems cannot be understated. These systems help in:

Monitoring Load and Grid Stability: Power plants must constantly balance electricity generation with grid demand. Control systems help adjust turbine speeds, fuel input, and other variables to maintain grid stability.

Safety in Nuclear Power Plants: The control of nuclear reactors requires extreme precision. Automated control systems can detect small deviations in pressure, temperature, or radiation levels, ensuring the safety of plant workers and the public.

Enhancing Solar Energy Production: Solar plants rely on control systems to track sunlight and optimize the position of solar panels for maximum energy generation. Additionally, these systems monitor the overall health of the solar panels, predicting maintenance needs and ensuring the system operates efficiently.

Instrumentation in HVAC Systems

HVAC systems are critical in managing the climate inside industrial plants, office buildings, and commercial spaces. Instrumentation and control systems are vital in ensuring that the HVAC system operates efficiently, maintaining comfort, and minimizing energy usage.

Temperature and Humidity Sensors: These sensors monitor the air quality and adjust HVAC operations accordingly, keeping the environment at the optimal temperature and humidity levels.

Energy Efficiency: Control systems adjust heating, cooling, and ventilation operations in real-time, optimizing energy use based on current environmental conditions.

Integration with MEP Design: HVAC systems are typically part of the broader MEP design framework, and instrumentation systems ensure that all components work in harmony to deliver efficient performance.

Conclusion

Instrumentation and control systems form the backbone of modern industrial operations, ensuring that processes run smoothly, safely, and efficiently. These systems are essential in monitoring and adjusting variables, optimizing performance, and enhancing energy efficiency.

The integration of advanced services like MEP design, BIM technology, and solar energy production further enhances the functionality of instrumentation systems, ensuring that industries can meet both their production and sustainability goals.

For businesses looking to optimize their operations and integrate renewable energy sources, partnering with a provider that specializes in plant engineering and consulting services is crucial. With expertise in instrumentation, control systems, and advanced engineering solutions, industries can achieve greater efficiency, safety, and profitability.