#power automate examples | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months ago

Text

Shifting $677m from the banks to the people, every year, forever

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

"Switching costs" are one of the great underappreciated evils in our world: the more it costs you to change from one product or service to another, the worse the vendor, provider, or service you're using today can treat you without risking your business.

Businesses set out to keep switching costs as high as possible. Literally. Mark Zuckerberg's capos send him memos chortling about how Facebook's new photos feature will punish anyone who leaves for a rival service with the loss of all their family photos – meaning Zuck can torment those users for profit and they'll still stick around so long as the abuse is less bad than the loss of all their cherished memories:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

It's often hard to quantify switching costs. We can tell when they're high, say, if your landlord ties your internet service to your lease (splitting the profits with a shitty ISP that overcharges and underdelivers), the switching cost of getting a new internet provider is the cost of moving house. We can tell when they're low, too: you can switch from one podcatcher program to another just by exporting your list of subscriptions from the old one and importing it into the new one:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

But sometimes, economists can get a rough idea of the dollar value of high switching costs. For example, a group of economists working for the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau calculated that the hassle of changing banks is costing Americans at least $677m per year (see page 526):

https://files.consumerfinance.gov/f/documents/cfpb_personal-financial-data-rights-final-rule_2024-10.pdf

The CFPB economists used a very conservative methodology, so the number is likely higher, but let's stick with that figure for now. The switching costs of changing banks – determining which bank has the best deal for you, then transfering over your account histories, cards, payees, and automated bill payments – are costing everyday Americans more than half a billion dollars, every year.

Now, the CFPB wasn't gathering this data just to make you mad. They wanted to do something about all this money – to find a way to lower switching costs, and, in so doing, transfer all that money from bank shareholders and executives to the American public.

And that's just what they did. A newly finalized Personal Financial Data Rights rule will allow you to authorize third parties – other banks, comparison shopping sites, brokers, anyone who offers you a better deal, or help you find one – to request your account data from your bank. Your bank will be required to provide that data.

I loved this rule when they first proposed it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/10/getting-things-done/#deliverism

And I like the final rule even better. They've really nailed this one, even down to the fine-grained details where interop wonks like me get very deep into the weeds. For example, a thorny problem with interop rules like this one is "who gets to decide how the interoperability works?" Where will the data-formats come from? How will we know they're fit for purpose?

This is a super-hard problem. If we put the monopolies whose power we're trying to undermine in charge of this, they can easily cheat by delivering data in uselessly obfuscated formats. For example, when I used California's privacy law to force Mailchimp to provide list of all the mailing lists I've been signed up for without my permission, they sent me thousands of folders containing more than 5,900 spreadsheets listing their internal serial numbers for the lists I'm on, with no way to find out what these lists are called or how to get off of them:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

So if we're not going to let the companies decide on data formats, who should be in charge of this? One possibility is to require the use of a standard, but again, which standard? We can ask a standards body to make a new standard, which they're often very good at, but not when the stakes are high like this. Standards bodies are very weak institutions that large companies are very good at capturing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Here's how the CFPB solved this: they listed out the characteristics of a good standards body, listed out the data types that the standard would have to encompass, and then told banks that so long as they used a standard from a good standards body that covered all the data-types, they'd be in the clear.

Once the rule is in effect, you'll be able to go to a comparison shopping site and authorize it to go to your bank for your transaction history, and then tell you which bank – out of all the banks in America – will pay you the most for your deposits and charge you the least for your debts. Then, after you open a new account, you can authorize the new bank to go back to your old bank and get all your data: payees, scheduled payments, payment history, all of it. Switching banks will be as easy as switching mobile phone carriers – just a few clicks and a few minutes' work to get your old number working on a phone with a new provider.

This will save Americans at least $677 million, every year. Which is to say, it will cost the banks at least $670 million every year.

Naturally, America's largest banks are suing to block the rule:

https://www.americanbanker.com/news/cfpbs-open-banking-rule-faces-suit-from-bank-policy-institute

Of course, the banks claim that they're only suing to protect you, and the $677m annual transfer from their investors to the public has nothing to do with it. The banks claim to be worried about bank-fraud, which is a real thing that we should be worried about. They say that an interoperability rule could make it easier for scammers to get at your data and even transfer your account to a sleazy fly-by-night operation without your consent. This is also true!

It is obviously true that a bad interop rule would be bad. But it doesn't follow that every interop rule is bad, or that it's impossible to make a good one. The CFPB has made a very good one.

For starters, you can't just authorize anyone to get your data. Eligible third parties have to meet stringent criteria and vetting. These third parties are only allowed to ask for the narrowest slice of your data needed to perform the task you've set for them. They aren't allowed to use that data for anything else, and as soon as they've finished, they must delete your data. You can also revoke their access to your data at any time, for any reason, with one click – none of this "call a customer service rep and wait on hold" nonsense.

What's more, if your bank has any doubts about a request for your data, they are empowered to (temporarily) refuse to provide it, until they confirm with you that everything is on the up-and-up.

I wrote about the lawsuit this week for @[email protected]'s Deeplinks blog:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/10/no-matter-what-bank-says-its-your-money-your-data-and-your-choice

In that article, I point out the tedious, obvious ruses of securitywashing and privacywashing, where a company insists that its most abusive, exploitative, invasive conduct can't be challenged because that would expose their customers to security and privacy risks. This is such bullshit.

It's bullshit when printer companies say they can't let you use third party ink – for your own good:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/01/hp-ceo-blocking-third-party-ink-from-printers-fights-viruses/

It's bullshit when car companies say they can't let you use third party mechanics – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

It's bullshit when Apple says they can't let you use third party app stores – for your own good:

https://www.eff.org/document/letter-bruce-schneier-senate-judiciary-regarding-app-store-security

It's bullshit when Facebook says you can't independently monitor the paid disinformation in your feed – for your own good:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#quis-custodiet-ipsos-zuck

And it's bullshit when the banks say you can't change to a bank that charges you less, and pays you more – for your own good.

CFPB boss Rohit Chopra is part of a cohort of Biden enforcers who've hit upon a devastatingly effective tactic for fighting corporate power: they read the law and found out what they're allowed to do, and then did it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

The CFPB was created in 2010 with the passage of the Consumer Financial Protection Act, which specifically empowers the CFPB to make this kind of data-sharing rule. Back when the CFPA was in Congress, the banks howled about this rule, whining that they were being forced to share their data with their competitors.

But your account data isn't your bank's data. It's your data. And the CFPB is gonna let you have it, and they're gonna save you and your fellow Americans at least $677m/year – forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/01/bankshot/#personal-financial-data-rights

466 notes · View notes

luvtonique · 6 months ago

Text

"Spaghettification" is a term that basically means "Feature Bloated."

It's when a thing that's created has so many additional features packed into it, that it ceases to be the thing it was originally supposed to be.

A perfect example of Spaghettification is in Clone High Season 1, the "Knork."

The problem: "I wish there was a thing like a spork, but for a knife and a fork. We could call it the Knork!"

The creation process: "I cut myself on the serrated edge." "We'll put a sliding cover to cover the edge while you're using it as a fork!" "What kind of berrings in that?" "Ball berrings!" "We should have that be automated somehow for people who forget." "We'll have a gas powered engine that automatically covers it!"

The result:

A thing that no longer resembles what the original concept was.

That's what "Spaghettification" means.

And that's why I think ultra-fetish porn needs to dial it back.

We're rapidly reaching the point where NSFW art is so bloated with fetish shit that it doesn't even come close to resembling two people having sex anymore. Y'all thought vore was nasty and gross 10 years ago, now we got people pulling their giant ballsacks up into a corset to have ball-tits and macrosperms tentacle-fucking people's inflated donut shaped dickholes and y'all are just like "That's hot."

169 notes · View notes

zazaiafe2 · 5 days ago

Text

Reprogramming your mind isn't "just" about affirming.A guide to creating durable and anchored assumptions for shifting and manifestation.

1) The myth of the "subconscious sponge"

Many in the shifting/manifestation community believe that the subconscious absorbs everything like a sponge.

But this is only true for young children (under 7 years old). At that age, they have almost no critical filter, which allows ideas to imprint directly on the subconscious.

-> For teens and adults? That filter is very active. It sorts, judges, and sometimes actively rejects affirmations it doesn't find credible.(It’s more or less active depending on the person and their profile that's why some people struggle more than others.)

2) But what exactly is the conscious filter?

The conscious filter (or “critical faculty”) is a mental barrier between your conscious mind (the one that doubts, analyzes, judges) and your subconscious (the one that automates).

It is influenced by:

- Your past experiences

- Your stress level

- Your vigilance level

- Your neurodivergence (e.g., autism, ADHD, anxiety)

- Your self-criticism or inner dialogue

-> Repeating “power affirmations” can sometimes strengthen this filter instead of weakening it,especially if your conscious mind doesn’t believe them.

3) Does spirituality deserve a meritocracy?

Many shifting discourses say: “If you really want it, you’ll shift / manifest.”

That’s false and dangerously guilt-inducing.

-> We all have different cognitive profiles. Some absorb faster, others have a noisy mind.

It’s not a lack of effort/assumption/persistance,you just need a different path.

-> Letting go doesn’t mean being perfect or emotionless. Sometimes, sadness or calm is more suitable for shifting than anxious euphoria.

An article about meritocracy

4)How to deactivate the conscounes filter

Here are techniques that work better than repeating affirmations:

- Hypnagogic state (between waking and sleep): your filter is weakened → perfect moment to anchor ideas.

- Visualization + real emotion: authentic emotion = filter bypass.+ Light hypnotic induction: breathing, progressive relaxation, or guided self-hypnosis.

- Metaphors / stories: the critical mind lets its guard down.

- Whisper instead of saying it out loud: the subconscious responds more to intimacy than insistence.

- Don’t force an idea, but gently infuse it.

- Listen to subliminals in a relaxed state.

5)Assuming ≠ Being positive

Assuming a reality is not about forcing toxic smiles.

To “assume” something means to internally inhabit it as a truth. And that doesn't always come with joy.

Example:

You can assume you're safe while feeling a peaceful sadness.

You can assume you’ll shift even if you’re in a neutral, melancholic, or tired state.

The key emotion is inner acceptance, not blind positivity.

6)Consciousness,ego, subconscious: who does what?

Conscious → Analyzes, plans, judges

Ego → Wants to control, resists change

Subconscious → Automates, believes emotionally repeated messages

When you want to manifest or shift, you need to calm the conscious and the ego so the subconscious can accept.

And if you're experiencing mental overload?

Your whole system goes into resistance mode, no matter how many affirmations you repeat.

7)One size doesn't fit all

The biggest problem in spirituality or manifestation: trying to apply one-size-fits-all methods.

Most advice might help some profiles but not everyone.

-> A neurodivergent person, a traumatized person, a child, or a stressed adult: they will never manifest in the same way.

-> Customize your approaches:

If you're very critical → use metaphors, hypnosis, play.

If you're sensory → use physical sensations in visualization.

If you're hyperactive or inconsistent → find short scripts or routines, not rigid ones.

8) Tips for manifesting / shifting sustainably

Favor mental softness over intense effort.

- Use calm or deep emotion, not necessarily joyful.

- Introduce roles: "If I were already in my desired reality / with my manifestation, how would I act?"

- Use the pre-sleep state to infuse your mind.

Be subtle, not robotic: one sincere affirmation > 1000 mechanical ones.

(Even if that can work for some profiles)

9) Summary: true power is adaptation

You aren't broken

-> Your brain is not broken.

-> You are not lacking in “positive vibrations”.

You just need a bridge between you and your subconscious, and that bridge isn’t always built with “affirmations + persistence”.

It can be built with:

- Acceptance

- Gentleness

- Hypnosis

- Rest

- Authentic emotions

- Meditation

My favorite alpha waves for manifestation.

And others.

(Translated from my TikTok post)

96 notes · View notes

th3mrskory · 4 months ago

Text

Lessons in Desire- Part 2

Pairing: fem!Reader x Professor!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, explicit language.

Part 1

Summary: In the classroom, their power dynamics shift, drawing them closer to the edge of what’s acceptable. Caught between desire and the threat of scandal, they push past boundaries, each unable to deny the magnetic pull between them. But with stakes this high, the real question is: how much will they sacrifice for a forbidden passion they can’t control?

Word count: 7.8 k

A/N: Alright, folks, I hear you. Loud and clear. Consider this my formal apology for the emotional torment, the tension, and, yes, the blatant blue-balling of Part 1. I know some of you were ready to throw hands. But fear not—redemption is here. Enjoy.

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The morning air was crisp, but the moment Y/N stepped into the lecture hall, a slow, suffocating heat curled around her skin.

She knew why.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she moved toward her usual seat, keeping her movements smooth, unbothered. If she hesitated, even for a second, she knew he’d notice. And she refused to give him that satisfaction.

He was already there, of course he was, leaning against his desk, arms crossed in that effortlessly relaxed way of his, watching students filter in like he wasn’t waiting for someone specific.

Like he wasn’t waiting for her.

Y/N did not look at him.

Instead, she pulled out her laptop, her fingers poised over the keys, eyes on the screen as if she were already deep in thought. A buffer. A shield. A blatant avoidance.

She felt him smirk. Didn’t have to look to know it was there.

God, he was insufferable.

The noise in the room settled, conversations dying down as Logan finally straightened, stepping forward with the kind of slow, deliberate ease that had no right being so compelling.

“All right,” he began, voice low and steady, filling the room like it belonged to him. Because it did. “Power and consequence, a delicate balance—one often dictated by impulse rather than reason.”

Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose, already bracing herself.

“In every era, power dictates action. It shapes choices, defines relationships.” Logan’s hands slid into his pockets, his stance casual, his expression unreadable. But his voice—his voice was a loaded gun. “History is littered with stories of rulers and revolutionaries, leaders and subordinates. And in many cases—” his head tilted slightly, “—power is at its most dangerous when both sides refuse to admit what they want.”

A muscle in Y/N’s jaw ticked.

She didn’t shift in her seat. Didn’t move.

She knew what he was doing.

It was the same thing he’d done in their last encounter—teasing, testing, pushing.

He was talking about his syllabus. But he was also talking about them.

“Take Rome, for example.” Logan continued, walking along the front of the classroom, hands still in his pockets. “Julius Caesar consolidates power, and suddenly, the Senate is restless. They don’t trust him. Why?”

Silence.

Logan’s eyes flicked over the class, lingering—too long—when they landed on her.

Y/N refused to look up.

“Because they knew,” he continued, voice dipping slightly, “that once someone has a taste of power, they don’t let it go so easily.”

His words settled heavy in the air.

“And yet,” he went on, “some of the greatest conflicts in history weren’t about power itself.” His gaze swept the room. “They were about control.”

Y/N’s fingers curled into her palm, nails pressing into skin.

A few seats away, a student finally spoke up. “Didn’t power and control kind of go hand in hand?”

Logan’s lips twitched.

“Not always,” he said smoothly. “Power can be taken. Control has to be given.”

A shiver coiled down Y/N’s spine, heat pooling low in her stomach.

And Logan knew it.

His voice had dipped just enough to slip under her skin, just enough to force her to sit with the words—his words. And yet, he didn’t look at her. Not directly.

Instead, his eyes flickered across the room, casual, detached, as if he hadn’t just set fire to her nerve endings and left her to smother the flames on her own.

Another student, oblivious to the tension lacing the air, chimed in. “But doesn’t control imply restraint?”

Logan hummed, tapping his fingers idly against the desk.

“In some cases,” he admitted. “But true control—” he let the words hang for a moment, deliberate, sharp “—is knowing exactly how far you can go before you cross the line.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, her grip tightening around her pen.

Because that? That wasn’t about Rome.

“Caesar, for example.” Logan pushed off the desk, his movements unhurried, purposeful. “He understood that power was fleeting. He took what he could, pushed where he had to, but in the end?” He paused, tilting his head. “Even he wasn’t immune to the consequences.”

A few students chuckled under their breath.

Y/N didn’t.

Because she knew Logan. Knew how he played these games.

This wasn’t just a history lesson.

It was a reminder.

A reminder of that night, of the way she had let herself slip—just for a moment. The way she had let him touch her, pull her under, take something she had never intended to give.

And now?

Now, she was here, pretending to be unaffected while he stood at the front of the room, speaking in riddles that only she could decipher.

Logan finally glanced her way, just for a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice.

But long enough for her to see the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Long enough for her to realize that he was enjoying this.

Motherfucker

The discussion shifted, students bouncing theories back and forth about leadership, strategy, the fine line between control and collapse.

Y/N forced herself to focus, to stare at the screen of her laptop as though the glowing words of her notes were actually sinking in.

They weren’t.

Not when she could still feel Logan’s gaze grazing her skin like the edge of a blade, deliberate in its absence, cutting in the way he looked everywhere but at her.

A girl two seats down—Emily, maybe?—leaned forward, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “So, Professor, would you say Caesar’s downfall was inevitable?”

Logan leaned against the desk, arms crossed, head tilting as if considering.

“Depends,” he mused. “Was it the betrayal that killed him?” A beat. “Or was it his arrogance?”

His words settled over the room, thoughtful. Almost careless.

But Y/N felt the weight of them like a hand at her throat.

Because that night had been arrogant.

She had known better. She had drawn her lines, kept her distance, resisted every damn pull he had on her. And yet, one moment—one misstep—had changed everything.

And now?

Now she was the one paying for it.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she tapped at her keyboard, forcing herself to take notes. She could feel her pulse in her throat, steady and insistent, but she pushed it down, locked it away.

She just had to make it through the next twenty minutes.

Then—mercifully—Logan moved on. The lesson drifted towards logistics, strategy, the mechanics of an empire’s rise and fall.

Y/N let herself breathe.

Until—

“Before we wrap up—” Logan straightened, flipping through a stack of papers before holding them up between two fingers. “Your midterms.”

A few groans rippled through the class. Some students slumped lower in their seats. Others sat up straighter, eyes flickering with expectation.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t graded those.

Her stomach turned slightly.

She had spent the past few days avoiding him—on purpose. Dodging his glances, his emails, taking the long way around campus just to make sure she didn’t have to face him. She had expected him to push back, to try and catch her alone.

But this?

This was unexpected.

She frowned, shifting in her seat as Logan started handing them back, his expression unreadable.

She had aced that exam. She knew she had.

And yet, when Logan finally reached her desk, sliding the paper toward her with an infuriating ease, she felt something cold slither down her spine.

Red ink slashed across the top corner.

Her head snapped up.

Logan didn’t stop.

Didn’t look at her.

Didn’t acknowledge her at all as he moved past, handing the next paper to the student behind her.

Her fingers curled around the edges of her midterm, heart hammering against her ribs.

This wasn’t a mistake.

It was a message.

She scoffed, quiet but sharp, barely more than an exhale.

Very well.

This was not going to end here.

She could feel the heat creeping up her spine, pooling low in her stomach—not just from anger, but from something darker, something thrilling.

He wanted to play?

Fine.

She would play.

For the rest of class, Y/N barely moved, barely breathed, fingers gripping the edge of her desk, her jaw locked so tight it ached.

Logan, of course, was unbothered. Completely composed. He carried on as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just tossed a match into an open field and walked away.

She didn’t react. Not then.

But when class ended, when the other students stood, stretching and gathering their things, when she heard Logan dismiss them with a low, even, “See you all next week,”—

She didn’t move.

Didn’t even pretend to pack up.

Instead, she sat perfectly still, one hand smoothing over the graded paper, staring down at the lie written in red ink.

She waited.

Listened.

And when the last of her classmates filtered out, when the door finally clicked shut behind them—

Only then did she rise.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Logan was still at his desk, flipping through papers, pretending to be unaware of her presence.

She took a breath. Stepped forward.

And when she spoke, her voice was sweet. Too sweet.

“You’re awfully generous, Professor.”

Logan didn’t look up.

“Am I?”

She hummed, holding the exam between two fingers, twirling it slightly.

“I mean, a C?” A pause, tilting her head. “You could’ve at least failed me. That would’ve been more convincing.”

That got him.

The edge of Logan’s mouth twitched—just barely, just enough for her to see.

But he still didn’t look up.

“Maybe I went easy on you,” he mused, voice low, dragging as he flipped to another page in his papers. “Maybe I thought you deserved a little mercy.”

Y/N let out a soft, breathy laugh, stepping closer, just enough that she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched slightly against the desk.

“Mercy?” she echoed. “Is that what you call it?”

Then, because she couldn’t help herself—because he had started this—

She leaned in.

Not enough to touch.

But enough for her next words to slide between them like a blade.

“Seems a little desperate, Professor.”

That got his attention.

Logan’s head finally lifted, darkened eyes locking onto hers, sharp and unreadable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The air between them crackled.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said, flipping the page in front of him. “I have a meeting.”

Y/N blinked.

For a second, just a second, her breath caught in her throat.

Then, slowly, she smiled. Sharp. Cold.

“Of course you do.”

Y/N lifted her paper slightly, the red mark on it almost taunting.

Then, with a slow smirk, she pressed it against his chest.

“Enjoy your meeting,” she murmured.

And then—before he could say a thing—

She turned and walked out.

******

The restaurant hummed with warmth, a mix of clinking glasses, low conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter rising above the noise. The scent of charred steak, garlic butter, and freshly baked bread filled the air, making the already cozy space feel even richer.

At their table, tucked near the window, the girls were deep into their second—or was it third?—bottle of wine. Plates sat half-empty, dessert forks clinking as they passed around bites of Leah’s birthday cake.

“To another year of surviving this godforsaken institution,” Leah declared, lifting her glass high, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“And looking hot while doing it,” someone added.

“To Leah,” Y/N smirked, clinking her glass against hers.

“To all of us,” Leah corrected. “Because, honestly, we deserve it.”

Laughter rippled through the group. The drinks kept flowing, the conversation weaving between weekend plans, internship gossip, and the ever-evolving drama of their university’s social scene. It was easy, normal.

Y/N leaned into it, letting herself get lost in the rhythm of her friends’ voices, letting herself forget about—

“Oh, speaking of school,” one of the girls piped up, tipping her glass in Y/N’s direction. “How’s the TA life treating you?”

Y/N blinked, the shift in topic jolting her for half a second.

Leah turned to her, lips twitching. “Yeah, how is our dear Professor Howlett?”

Y/N kept her expression even, swirling her wine. “Fine.”

One of the other girls snorted, raising a brow. “That’s it?”

Y/N arched a brow back. “Would you like a full dissertation?”

“No, but I’d like a little more detail,” Leah cut in, leaning forward. “Because, from what I heard—” she paused, grinning like she had something good, “—you’ve fallen from grace.”

Y/N frowned, feigning nonchalance as she took a sip of her drink. “What are you talking about?”

“You tell me.” Leah smirked. “A month ago, you were his golden child. He actually smiled at you. Now?” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “He looks at you like you personally set his car on fire.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she could feel the way they were watching her.

“Oh my God, you totally pissed him off,” another girl cackled.

“I did not,” Y/N said smoothly.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, seriously, what did you do?” Leah pressed.

Y/N tapped her fingers against her wine glass, tilting her head. “Maybe he just finally realized he’s an asshole.”

A few of the girls laughed, but Leah just squinted at her, too perceptive for her own good.

Y/N held her gaze, unfazed.

“Whatever you did,” Leah drawled, sitting back, “he’s been pissed. He even started handing out graded exams himself.”

Y/N stilled, barely a flicker of reaction, but Leah caught it.

Bingo.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.”

“Leah,” Y/N warned.

“No, no, no. Wait.” Leah grinned like she was piecing together the most delicious gossip of the year. “You’ve been helping him grade for months. And now, all of a sudden, you’re out of a job?” She let out a slow, dramatic gasp. “You did piss him off.”

Y/N rolled her eyes again, sitting back in her chair.

“Oh, babe,” Leah continued, her voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy. “Do you need a new professor to suck up to?”

Y/N smirked, unbothered. “No, but you might, considering your last paper was absolute shit.”

Leah gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “I am the victim here.”

“Oh, sure,” Y/N deadpanned.

The conversation carried on, laughter spilling over the table as Leah launched into a dramatic retelling of her latest attempt at flirting with her philosophy TA. Something about eye contact, Nietzsche, and an existential crisis mid-hookup.

Y/N smirked, sipping her drink, letting herself relax into the warmth of the evening. The wine hummed pleasantly in her veins, the weight of everything momentarily pushed to the edges of her mind.

Until Leah, still mid-rant, suddenly froze.

Her eyes flicked past Y/N’s shoulder, widening slightly before she smirked, slow and sharp.

“Well, well,” she murmured, swirling her drink. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, the coolness of it grounding her, anchoring her in place. Logan.

Logan, leaning back like he had all the time in the world, one arm draped over the back of the booth, fingers absently rolling his whiskey glass. His body language was relaxed, easy. But his eyes?

His eyes were locked onto hers.

And he wasn’t alone.

The woman across from him was gorgeous, her red-painted lips curved into something lazy, knowing. She leaned in just enough to make a point, her hand brushing against Logan’s forearm as she whispered something in his ear.

Y/N didn’t hear Logan’s response.

She didn’t need to.

She saw the smirk that followed. The tilt of his head. The way his lips parted slightly, like he was amused.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Damn,” Maya murmured, her brows lifting as she took a sip of her drink. “Guess Mr. Howlett’s got a life outside of terrorizing students after all.”

Leah snorted. “And it looks like he’s got good taste.”

Y/N hummed, her expression unreadable, her blood thrumming with something sharp and tight and unbearable.

He was doing it on purpose.

Because, of course, he was.

Y/N refused to look away first.

If he wanted to play this game, fine.

She lifted her glass, taking a slow, deliberate sip, her lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. Then, just as Logan lifted his own glass in some silent, taunting toast—

She turned away.

Didn’t give him the satisfaction.

Leah exhaled, shaking her head. “Must be nice,” she muttered, tipping her glass toward Logan’s date. “Imagine being wined and dined by that.”

Y/N just smiled, feigning boredom, indifference.

But she could still feel his eyes on her.

Still feel the weight of his gaze, burning against the side of her face.

It was subtle—calculated. The way his deep, rough laugh suddenly cut through the restaurant’s hum, just loud enough for her to hear. The way his fingers traced absent circles against the table’s edge, slow, deliberate. The way he leaned in just a fraction closer to the woman across from him, speaking low, lips almost brushing her ear—

Almost.

She let her friends’ conversation wash over her, grounding herself in their presence, their laughter, their easy, carefree energy. She refused to let Logan pull her into whatever game he was playing.

It was almost amusing.

Almost.

Maya gestured to the waiter for another round of drinks, grinning. “Alright, I say we hit a club after this.”

Leah groaned. “I have a quiz tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And I’m not trying to fail.”

“God, you’re so responsible,” Maya sighed, rolling her eyes before turning back to Y/N. “What about you? You coming?”

Y/N took another sip of her drink, letting the question linger before answering, “Why not?”

Logan stiffened.

It was brief, nearly imperceptible. But she caught it.

And so did he.

Y/N turned, meeting his gaze head-on.

His jaw tightened.

Her lips twitched.

And then, as if he was nothing more than a fleeting thought, she rose from her seat, gathering her things.

“Alright,” she said to Maya, tossing a few bills onto the table for the check. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t look back.

She didn’t need to.

Because as she walked away, she felt it—the weight of his stare, the frustration rolling off him in waves, thick and heavy and burning with something he hadn’t quite tamed yet.

Good.

Let him simmer.

******

Logan was late.

A rare thing. An unacceptable thing.

And it was because of his damn car, which decided this morning—of all mornings—that it wasn’t going to start. He’d wasted fifteen minutes trying to fix it himself, another five debating if he should just put his fist through the hood, and another ten waiting for a uber to show up.

Annoyance curled hot in his chest, pressing against his ribs like a vice.

Fine.

It wasn’t the first time the universe threw obstacles in his way.

At least he had someone reliable to handle things.

So as he sat in the back of the uber, Logan pulled out his phone and sent a quick, no-nonsense text.

Tell them I’ll be late. Start the lecture.

Short. Clear. He didn’t need to say more. Y/N would handle it.

Except—

She didn’t.

The second he stepped into the lecture hall, his mood went from bad to worse.

The room was chaos. Conversations rang out unchecked, students still standing, still filing in, notebooks tossed onto desks with all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning.

Logan’s gaze flicked toward her usual seat.

Empty.

His jaw tightened.

He let the pause stretch, let his frustration settle in his bones, before he strode down the steps to the front of the class.

When he spoke, his voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“Sit.”

The command landed with immediate effect. Conversations died. Chairs scraped against the floor.

A few students exchanged wary glances, picking up on the fact that their professor was in no mood for patience.

Logan set his bag down on the desk a little harder than necessary. The silence stretched, thick and expectant, but he didn’t give them anything—not yet.

Instead, he rolled up his sleeves with slow, deliberate movements, exhaling through his nose before finally speaking.

"Last class, we talked about power. About control.”

He turned to the whiteboard, uncapping a marker, and dragged the words across the surface in sharp, precise strokes.

“Today,” he continued, voice smooth, “we’re shifting to influence.”

Another slow line drawn beneath the word.

“How it’s used. How it’s abused. And—” his voice dipped lower, his gaze cutting through the room— “how those who think they have it often don’t.”

A beat of silence.

Logan let it linger, let the weight of his words settle over the students before he turned back to face them.

“Influence,” he went on, stepping forward, “isn’t about brute strength. It’s not about who yells the loudest or who has the biggest army.”

His hands slipped into his pockets as he paced.

“Real influence is quieter. Subtler. It’s knowing exactly what someone wants—” he tilted his head slightly, “—and deciding whether or not you’re going to give it to them.”

He caught a few students exchanging glances, intrigued.

They had no idea.

Because Logan wasn’t talking about history. Not really.

He was talking about something else entirely.

Something sharp. Something frustrating. Something that had the nerve to not show up today.

Y/N.

His fingers flexed at his sides.

She had never missed a class before. Not once. Not even when she had every reason to.

And yet—here he was, staring at an empty seat.

His grip on the marker tightened as he forced himself to keep going.

"History is full of people who thought they had influence,” he said, dragging his attention back to the class. “People who assumed their power was absolute. That they had control over those beneath them.”

A slow, measured breath.

“But control is a fickle thing.”

He turned back to the whiteboard, scrawling another word beneath Influence.

“Perception.”

“The truth is,” he continued, “most of history’s so-called ‘great leaders’ weren’t actually in control. They were at the mercy of perception. The illusion of power. And illusions—” he capped the marker with an audible click, “—can be shattered.”

A few students scribbled in their notebooks, nodding along. Others sat back, watching him with quiet focus.

But Logan wasn’t watching them.

He was watching the damn clock.

Waiting.

Expecting.

The door never opened.

She never walked in.

His jaw ticked.

Fine.

If she wanted to play games, she’d have to try harder than this.

Logan finished the lecture with practiced ease, but his patience had thinned to a knife’s edge. By the time class ended, he was done pretending.

As students packed up their things, Logan leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, gaze sharp as it swept over the room.

Then his eyes landed on her friend.

She was taking her time, slow in the way only someone deliberately avoiding something could be. Flipping through her notebook, adjusting the strap of her bag—stalling.

Logan wasn’t in the mood for patience.

“Where’s Y/N?”

It wasn’t a casual question, no matter how level his tone was.

The friend stilled for half a second before flicking her eyes up to him. A knowing look. Curious. Wary.

“She didn’t say much last night,” she said eventually, shutting her notebook. “We left the club, and then… she was gone.”

Logan’s jaw ticked.

Gone.

He didn’t like the sound of that.

Didn’t like that they hadn’t seen her after.

Didn’t like the way the friend was looking at him now, sharp and assessing, as if putting pieces together.

“I let her know I’d be late this morning.” His voice was calm, but the words had an edge. A reminder. A fact.

The friend tilted her head, considering him. Then, with something just shy of a smirk, she said, “Guess she had more important things to do.”

A slow exhale through his nose.

Logan held her gaze for a beat longer before pushing off the desk, his movements controlled, precise.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

If she was trying to make a point—

Message fucking received.

******

Logan didn’t leave the classroom right away.

He lingered.

The students had cleared out, their chatter fading down the hall, but he stood by the desk, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the empty chair where she should have been.

She hadn’t shown up.

Not for class. Not for him.

His jaw ticked.

The room was still, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. He exhaled sharply, reaching for his coffee. The cup was empty.

Great.

With a muttered curse, he grabbed his things and strode toward the door. The sound of his own footsteps echoed in the now-empty hallway, steady, controlled.

Controlled.

Power can be taken. Control has to be given.

The words from his own damn lecture slithered back to him, unwanted. He scowled, pushing through the building’s heavy front doors and stepping outside. The air had cooled, the lingering heat of the day fading into a crisp breeze.

He barely noticed.

His mind kept circling back to her absence, to the night before. To the moment she had downed her drink, barely even looking at him as she walked away.

She knew he saw her. She knew he was watching.

And yet she hadn’t given him the satisfaction of even a reaction.

His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag as he made his way across campus, past clusters of students, past the coffee cart where she sometimes stopped between classes.

The cup he usually found sitting on his desk—her order, slid across with an offhand comment about him needing it more than her—hadn’t been there today.

It was nothing.

So why the fuck did it feel like something?

By the time he reached his office, his patience was worn thin. The door swung shut behind him with a quiet thud, and he dropped his things onto the desk, rolling his shoulders back.

A heavy exhale.

He should be grading. Preparing for the next lecture.

Instead, he reached for his phone.

No messages.

Nothing.

His jaw clenched.

Fine.

He leaned back, rubbing a hand along his jaw before pulling out a test paper—the one she should’ve been helping him grade. The one he had deliberately marked lower than it deserved, just to watch her reaction.

Except there hadn’t been one.

He scoffed under his breath, tossing the paper aside.

This is ridiculous.

His gaze flickered to his laptop, fingers already moving before he fully decided.

If she wouldn’t come to him—

Maybe it was time he sent for her.

Logan wasn’t the type to chase.

Not students. Not women. Not anyone.

And yet—

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, the email cursor blinking like it was mocking him.

Subject: Need Your Assistance

Y/N,

I need help reviewing the material for next week’s class. See me in my office in an hour.

He stared at it, jaw tight, his other hand gripping the armrest of his chair.

It was a weak excuse. He knew it. She would know it.

But it was better than nothing.

With a quiet exhale, he hit send—and sat back, arms crossed, waiting.

One hour.

Two.

Nothing.

He scowled, checking his inbox again like the email would magically appear.

His hand moved to his phone before he could think better of it.

She had never ignored him before. Not really. Not like this.

He tapped her contact. Called.

No answer.

Logan exhaled through his nose, setting the phone down with more force than necessary.

Fuck this.

She wanted to play games?

He pushed back from his desk, grabbed his keys, and left without another thought.

Why did this bother him so much?

Was it the fact that she had ignored his email? His call?

Or was it the way she had walked out of that restaurant without a second glance—without giving him the satisfaction of a reaction?

His fingers curled around the steering wheel.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that he was done waiting.

******

The hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights above buzzing faintly. Logan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he knocked. Once. Twice.

A pause. Then, soft footsteps on the other side of the door.

When it finally opened—

He didn’t know what he was expecting.

But it sure as hell wasn’t this.

Y/N stood there looking… put together.

Not sick. Not disheveled from a long night. Not the wreck he had pictured, curled up in bed nursing a hangover.

No.

She looked like she had just come from a class—not his, obviously, but somewhere.

Somewhere else.

His fingers curled slightly against his palm.

Her brows furrowed just a little, eyes flickering over his face. Like she wasn’t expecting him.

“…Professor?”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose. “You didn’t show up.”

Y/N blinked, adjusting her bag strap. “I know.”

His jaw tightened. She wasn’t even offering an excuse. No flimsy I wasn’t feeling well, no Sorry, I lost track of time.

Just—I know.

He stared at her for a beat before tilting his head. “You’re my TA.”

She nodded. “I’m aware.”

Logan let a slow exhale drag through his teeth. “Then you should also be aware that skipping your job isn’t an option.”

Y/N’s expression remained infuriatingly unreadable. “I’ll make up the hours.”

He huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Not how it works, sweetheart.”

Something flickered in her eyes at that—something sharp—but she didn’t take the bait.

Instead, she lifted a brow, crossing her arms. “Would you like me to submit an official apology?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

She was playing with him.

“I’d like you to do your damn job,” he said evenly.

Silence.

She held his gaze, unwavering.

Then, slowly, she leaned against the doorframe, tilting her head. “You’re upset.”

His fingers twitched. “I’m annoyed.”

“Because I missed class?”

His jaw clenched.

Yes. No. Maybe.

Logan inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “Because you didn’t even have the decency to let me know.”

Y/N’s expression remained infuriatingly calm. “I didn’t realize I had to report my every move to you.”

Logan stared at her, eyes dark.

That tone. That dismissive little tone.

Like he was just another professor. Like he was someone who could be ignored without consequence.

Like she hadn’t walked away from him last night without a second glance.

His grip on the doorframe tightened.

“Fine,” he said, voice low, smooth. “I’ll just make sure the department knows you’re too busy for this position.”

It was an empty threat. They both knew it.

Still—her brows lifted slightly, like she was finally paying attention.

She exhaled slowly, tilting her head. “I’ll be there next class.”

Logan held her gaze for a second longer.

“Make sure you are.”

They just stood there, neither moving, neither speaking.

Y/N’s fingers curled slightly around the edge of the doorframe, but her expression remained unreadable. Logan’s jaw was tight, his eyes dark, unmoving.

She should’ve closed the door. Should’ve ended this.

But she didn’t.

And neither did he.

The hallway was too quiet, the seconds stretching thin between them. Something unspoken hung in the air, thick and heavy, like a breath held just before a storm.

Then, slowly, Y/N exhaled, tilting her head.

“…Is there something else you wanna say?”

Logan didn’t blink.

Did he?

Maybe.

Maybe he wanted to ask if she had gone to that damn club just to make a point.

Maybe he wanted to say that she should never ignore his calls again.

Maybe he wanted to take a step forward, close the space between them, just to see if she would move.

But he did none of those things.

Instead, Y/N let out a quiet hum, eyes flickering over his face. “Or can we renegotiate my grade?”

Logan’s fingers twitched.

That smart mouth. That fucking attitude.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Watch it.”

Y/N only lifted a brow.

And for a second, just a fraction of a second, his gaze dropped—to her mouth, to the curve of it, the way her lips almost parted like she had caught the motion and dared him to look again.

But Logan forced his eyes back up, breathing slow through his nose.

“I’ll see you next class,” she said smoothly.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t nod. Didn’t move.Neither of them moved.

Y/N stood there, her chin tipped just slightly, the sharp glint in her eyes something between defiance and amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing. Exactly what kind of fire she was playing with.

And Logan—Logan was this close to forgetting every goddamn rule.

His fingers flexed at his sides, jaw tight, breath slow and measured. The logical part of his mind, the one that still had a grip on reality, told him to leave. Turn around, walk back down that hallway, pretend this conversation had never happened.

But the other part—the part that had spent the last week stewing in frustration, in her absence, in the way she had looked right through him at the restaurant and walked away like he was nothing—wasn’t listening.

His eyes dragged over her, slow, deliberate.

She looked perfect. Effortless. Put together. Like she hadn’t ignored his calls, his emails. Like she hadn’t left him waiting.

That got under his skin more than it should have.

“I’ll see you next class,” she repeated, voice smooth, tilting her head like she was dismissing him.

Logan didn’t fucking move.

Something in the air shifted.

Tension thickened, curling, twisting, stretching taut like a wire about to snap.

She didn’t step back. Didn’t shut the door.

And Logan—Logan didn’t walk away.

Instead, he took a slow step forward.

Just one.

Her breath hitched. Not much. Just a fraction of a second. But he caught it.

His head tilted, studying her.

Waiting.

Daring.

Logan exhaled, slow and steady.

He should go. He should.

His lips parted, but whatever he meant to say—whatever line he still thought he could hold—

It disappeared.

Because Y/N took a step too.

Closer.

Not much, but enough.

Enough that he could smell her perfume, light but intoxicating. Enough that the heat of her skin seemed to seep into him. Enough that her lips—soft, parted, waiting—were just there.

And Logan—Logan wasn’t a man of patience.

Not when it came to her.

His hand moved before he could stop it.

Fingers curling around her wrist, tugging—just slightly, just enough.

And Y/N—Y/N didn’t pull away.

Didn’t protest.

Didn’t do a goddamn thing except look at him, pulse fluttering under his grip, her lips parting as her breath caught—

And that was it.

That was all it took.

His mouth was on hers in a second, rough, desperate, furious, like he had been holding himself back for too long and finally let the dam break.

And fuck, she kissed him back.

She met him, matched him, fingers threading into his hair as she tugged, mouth opening under his like she had been waiting for this just as much as he had.

The heat of her burned.

Logan pressed her back against the doorframe, fingers digging into her waist, tasting the sharp bite of her earlier smirk on his tongue.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was frustration and tension and a week’s worth of unspoken words spilling between them in gasps and teeth and heat.

And fuck, she wanted.

He could feel it in the way her hands clenched in his shirt, the way her hips tilted toward him without thinking, the way she let out the smallest, breathiest sound against his lips—

A sound that almost made him lose it.

Logan’s mouth crashed against hers like he was done holding back, done pretending this didn’t matter. His hands were already on her, fingers gripping her waist, sliding beneath her sweater to touch bare skin, hot and possessive.

Y/N gasped against his lips, but she didn’t stop him—wouldn’t stop him. Not when she had wanted this just as much.

Not when she had spent nights replaying every look, every touch, every moment he had gotten too close and then pulled away.

Not this time.

Her fingers tangled in his shirt, fisting the fabric as she yanked him closer, drinking in the low, needy sound he made in the back of his throat. His body pressed into hers, hard and unyielding, like he wanted to cage her in completely, like he wanted to remind her exactly who had been in control this whole time.

But she wasn’t about to make this easy for him.

She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, just enough to make him groan, just enough to push him further, and fuck, she felt the way his fingers dug into her hips in response.

She had never seen him like this.

Never seen him lose control.

And it was intoxicating.

"Shit," Logan growled against her mouth before his lips left hers, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. His teeth grazed the delicate skin there, and Y/N sucked in a sharp breath, nails raking over his shoulders.

“You just gonna stand there, professor?” she murmured, breathless, teasing. “Or are you actually gonna—”

Logan lifted her.

Just—effortless, like she weighed nothing, like he was done listening to her mouth. Her back hit the door, her legs wrapping around his waist as his hands slid beneath her thighs, fingers flexing against bare skin.

“I warned you to watch it,” he muttered, voice rough, barely restrained.

Y/N smirked, dragging her fingers up into his hair, tugging just enough to make his jaw clench. “Or what?”

Logan growled.

And then he tore her sweater off.

Just—over her head, tossed somewhere behind them, forgotten the second his hands were back on her, mouth covering every inch of exposed skin.

And Y/N—

Fuck.

She was gone.

She barely had the presence of mind to kick the door shut behind them before Logan was moving, walking them deeper into the room without ever letting her go.

It was desperate. Messy. Clothes lost between touches, gasps swallowed between kisses that grew rougher, hungrier.

By the time they hit the bed, she was already his.

And neither of them had any intention of stopping.

Logan wasn’t gentle.

Didn’t ease into it.

Didn’t give her time to think, to second-guess, to do anything but feel.

Because fuck, he had held back for too long.

His mouth was on her again before she could catch her breath, rough hands roaming, sliding over bare skin like he was starving—like he wanted to commit every inch of her to memory.

Y/N arched beneath him, body humming with something raw and electric as his lips dragged down, down, teeth scraping, tongue soothing—leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

“Logan,” she breathed, fingers fisting in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

He groaned, deep and rough, his grip tightening on her hips as he pressed her deeper into the mattress.

She felt him everywhere.

Overpowering. Unyielding. A fucking force of nature.

Her breath hitched when he slid lower, lips teasing, testing, eyes flicking up to meet hers—dark, hungry, wild.

Then he smirked.

And ruined her.

Logan was all rough edges and raw hunger.

No hesitation. No pretense. Just heat.

His mouth was everywhere—dragging down the column of her throat, teeth grazing, lips soothing, hands gripping like he owned her. Like he’d finally snapped that last thread of restraint and was making up for lost time.

Y/N gasped as he pushed her back against the mattress, his weight pressing into her, solid and hot and relentless.

Her shirt was gone before she could blink.

So were his.

He wasn’t gentle when he kissed her—didn’t take his time, didn’t tease. He kissed her like he was trying to consume her, like he wanted to taste every breath she took.

His hands were rough, calloused, dragging over soft skin, fingers tracing, kneading, gripping as he slid lower.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her skin, voice gravelly, thick with something dark and needy.

Y/N barely had time to breathe before his mouth was on her again, trailing down, teeth scraping, tongue flicking—until she was whimpering, fingers tugging at his hair, thighs trembling around his shoulders.

Then he groaned, deep and guttural, hands tightening on her hips as he dragged her closer, mouth hot and wet and sinful against her skin.

“Logan—” Her voice broke, back arching, pleasure coiling tight in her stomach, dizzying and overwhelming.

He didn’t slow down.

Didn’t let up.

Didn’t stop until she was shattering, nails digging into his shoulders, gasping his name like it was the only word she knew.

And when she finally collapsed against the sheets, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths—

He smirked.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?”

Y/N blinked up at him, dazed, lips swollen, body still buzzing.

Then—slowly—she smirked back.

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”

Logan’s eyes darkened.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

And then he was kissing her again—hungry, desperate—like he wasn’t done with her yet.

Because he wasn’t.

Not even close.

Logan didn’t take his time.

Didn’t waste a second.

The moment Y/N smirked up at him, all challenge and temptation, he was on her again—his mouth claiming hers, his hands gripping, sliding, possessive.

She gasped when he flipped them, her thighs straddling his hips, hands braced against his chest. His skin was hot under her fingertips, muscles shifting, tensing—barely restrained strength, coiled and waiting to snap.

She felt the hard press of him against her, thick and heavy through his jeans, and fuck—the way he was looking at her, all dark eyes and barely controlled hunger, like he was going to ruin her—

Her breath hitched.

“You gonna sit there all night?” Logan drawled, voice low, rough. His hands settled on her hips, fingers digging in just enough to make her feel it. “Or are you finally done playin’ games?”

Y/N tilted her head, nails dragging down his chest, slow and teasing.

“You’re the one who showed up at my door, Professor.”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, something dangerous flashing in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he muttered, flipping them again until she was under him, caged in, no escape. “And look where that got us.”

Then his mouth was on her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast, tongue flicking over a peaked nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, nails scraping, and he groaned, pressing his hips into hers, letting her feel exactly what she was doing to him.

“Logan—”

Her voice broke, pleasure coiling tight, anticipation thrumming under her skin.

Logan lifted his head, gaze locking onto hers—dark, heavy, unreadable.

“Tell me you want this.” His voice was low, rough, but his grip on her waist gentled, thumbs stroking slow circles against her skin. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Y/N stared up at him, heart hammering.

She should say no.

Should tell him this was a mistake.

That this could never happen.

But then he rolled his hips against hers, slow, deliberate—

And she broke.

“Don’t stop.”

Logan cursed under his breath, something in his expression cracking—then he was moving, shedding the last barriers between them, pressing her into the mattress as he lined himself up, the thick head of him teasing her entrance.

Y/N gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, aching for more.

And Logan—

Logan just grinned, sharp and wicked.

“Hope you know what you’re askin’ for, sweetheart.”

Logan buried himself deep, a guttural sound ripping from his throat as Y/N arched beneath him, fingers clawing at his back. Heat coiled tight, sharp and electric, every nerve in her body lighting up as he set a ruthless pace—one that left no room for hesitation, no space for second thoughts.

She gasped, nails biting into his shoulders, but Logan only groaned in response, dragging his teeth over the curve of her throat, sucking a mark into her skin like he wanted to brand himself into her.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice raw, strained. His hands slid beneath her thighs, hitching them higher around his waist, and the shift had her choking on a moan, her body bowing into him.

The smirk that curled his lips was devastating. “That good, huh?”

Y/N barely had the presence of mind to glare. “Shut up.”

Logan fucked her like he was making up for every moment he’d held back. Like he was claiming something that had always been his, something he’d spent too long pretending he didn’t want.

And Y/N—she let him.

Let him grip her thighs, spread her open, thrust deep until she couldn’t do anything but take it, body writhing under him, breath stolen from her lungs.

“Logan—” His name slipped out like a prayer, like a plea, her fingers fisting in his hair, dragging, desperate.

Logan chuckled—dark, low, smug as hell. But the amusement didn’t last. Not when she clenched around him, not when she rolled her hips just enough to have his breath stuttering against her skin. His grip on her tightened, bruising, grounding.

Then he was moving again, relentless, dragging her right to the edge and keeping her there, teasing, playing, testing just how much she could take before she broke.

Y/N’s head tipped back against the pillows, lips parted, breath shaky. “You’re—” She swallowed hard, a moan slipping out before she could stop it. “You’re such an asshole.”

Logan huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead to hers, breath warm against her lips. “Yeah?” His hips snapped forward, hitting just right, and she gasped, hands fisting in his hair.

The cocky bastard smiled. “Say that again.”

She would’ve. Really. But then his fingers slid between them, pressing against that sweet spot, circling, teasing, relentless—

Y/N shattered.

It tore through her like wildfire, pleasure rolling through her in waves so intense her vision blurred, her body shuddering, nails biting into his back as she clenched around him.

Logan groaned deep in his chest, a curse slipping from his lips as he followed her down, thrusting once, twice—then stilling, his entire body going taut as he came with a sharp, wrecked gasp against her skin.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room their uneven breaths, the heavy pound of their heartbeats still echoing between them.

Then—slowly, carefully—Logan shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling her with him, his arm heavy around her waist, grounding her.

Y/N swallowed, still catching her breath, and when she glanced up, Logan was already watching her—eyes dark, unreadable.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t smirk, didn’t gloat, didn’t try to fill the silence with something meaningless.

And maybe that was worse.

Because it left room for reality to settle.

For the weight of what they’d done to creep in.

For the dangerous, quiet truth to curl between them, thick as smoke.

Neither of them had any regrets.

And that?

That was fucking dangerous.

115 notes · View notes

sharepointdesign · 2 months ago

Text

#power automate consulting #power automate services #use power automate #power automate use case #power automate online #power automate examples #power automate apps #benefits of power automate #power automate tasks

0 notes

collapsedsquid · 3 months ago

Text

Here’s what I think is happening. The case for imminent AGI more or less reduces down to the notion that creative problem solving can be commoditized via large model based technologies. Such technologies include language models like the GPT family and Claude, the diffusion models that produce art and others. The thesis is that these models will soon be able to solve difficult problems better than humans ever could. They will be able to do this because of the “bitter lesson” that the “secret to intelligence,” is, in Dario Amodei’s formulation, scaling up simple objective functions by throwing data and compute at them. We will soon live in a world where “geniuses in a datacenter” can conduct fundamental research, solve the aging problem and propel us into a material paradise like that in Iain M. Banks’ Culture novels. Under this theory, we should prioritize building AI over solving other problems because AGI (or whatever you want to call it: Amodei doesn’t like that term) will be a superior and independent means for solving those problems, exceeding the problem solving capacity of mere humans. Thus, for example, both Eric Schmidt and Bill Gates say that we should build lots of power capacity to fuel AI, even if this has short term repercussions for the climate. In Schmidt’s summation, human beings are not going to hit the climate change targets anyway, “because we’re not organized to do it.” Hence, the better bet is to build out the power infrastructure for AI, to build automated systems that are better capable of solving the problems than flawed human social institutions.

There's a weird thing where we've created these text generators and even if they are fiendishly complex and intelligent they still aren't what was imagined previously as "AGI," they aren't building a perfectly updating bayesian model of the world or something that they can be used to change outcomes with ruthless efficiency. And I feel that tech people are still running their "AGI" playbook like they are.

78 notes · View notes

sexymemecoin · 1 year ago

Text

The Role of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management: Enhancing Transparency and Efficiency

Blockchain technology, best known for powering cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin and Ethereum, is revolutionizing various industries with its ability to provide transparency, security, and efficiency. One of the most promising applications of blockchain is in supply chain management, where it offers solutions to longstanding challenges such as fraud, inefficiencies, and lack of visibility. This article explores how blockchain is transforming supply chains, its benefits, key use cases, and notable projects, including a mention of Sexy Meme Coin.

Understanding Blockchain Technology

Blockchain is a decentralized ledger technology that records transactions across a network of computers. Each transaction is added to a block, which is then linked to the previous block, forming a chain. This structure ensures that the data is secure, immutable, and transparent, as all participants in the network can view and verify the recorded transactions.

Key Benefits of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management

Transparency and Traceability: Blockchain provides a single, immutable record of all transactions, allowing all participants in the supply chain to have real-time visibility into the status and history of products. This transparency enhances trust and accountability among stakeholders.

Enhanced Security: The decentralized and cryptographic nature of blockchain makes it highly secure. Each transaction is encrypted and linked to the previous one, making it nearly impossible to alter or tamper with the data. This reduces the risk of fraud and counterfeiting in the supply chain.

Efficiency and Cost Savings: Blockchain can automate and streamline various supply chain processes through smart contracts, which are self-executing contracts with the terms of the agreement directly written into code. This automation reduces the need for intermediaries, minimizes paperwork, and speeds up transactions, leading to significant cost savings.

Improved Compliance: Blockchain's transparency and traceability make it easier to ensure compliance with regulatory requirements. Companies can provide verifiable records of their supply chain activities, demonstrating adherence to industry standards and regulations.

Key Use Cases of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management

Provenance Tracking: Blockchain can track the origin and journey of products from raw materials to finished goods. This is particularly valuable for industries like food and pharmaceuticals, where provenance tracking ensures the authenticity and safety of products. For example, consumers can scan a QR code on a product to access detailed information about its origin, journey, and handling.

Counterfeit Prevention: Blockchain's immutable records help prevent counterfeiting by providing a verifiable history of products. Luxury goods, electronics, and pharmaceuticals can be tracked on the blockchain to ensure they are genuine and have not been tampered with.

Supplier Verification: Companies can use blockchain to verify the credentials and performance of their suppliers. By maintaining a transparent and immutable record of supplier activities, businesses can ensure they are working with reputable and compliant partners.

Streamlined Payments and Contracts: Smart contracts on the blockchain can automate payments and contract executions, reducing delays and errors. For instance, payments can be automatically released when goods are delivered and verified, ensuring timely and accurate transactions.

Sustainability and Ethical Sourcing: Blockchain can help companies ensure their supply chains are sustainable and ethically sourced. By providing transparency into the sourcing and production processes, businesses can verify that their products meet environmental and social standards.

Notable Blockchain Supply Chain Projects

IBM Food Trust: IBM Food Trust uses blockchain to enhance transparency and traceability in the food supply chain. The platform allows participants to share and access information about the origin, processing, and distribution of food products, improving food safety and reducing waste.

VeChain: VeChain is a blockchain platform that focuses on supply chain logistics. It provides tools for tracking products and verifying their authenticity, helping businesses combat counterfeiting and improve operational efficiency.

TradeLens: TradeLens, developed by IBM and Maersk, is a blockchain-based platform for global trade. It digitizes the supply chain process, enabling real-time tracking of shipments and reducing the complexity of cross-border transactions.

Everledger: Everledger uses blockchain to track the provenance of high-value assets such as diamonds, wine, and art. By creating a digital record of an asset's history, Everledger helps prevent fraud and ensures the authenticity of products.

Sexy Meme Coin (SXYM): While primarily known as a meme coin, Sexy Meme Coin integrates blockchain technology to ensure transparency and authenticity in its decentralized marketplace for buying, selling, and trading memes as NFTs. Learn more about Sexy Meme Coin at Sexy Meme Coin.

Challenges of Implementing Blockchain in Supply Chains

Integration with Existing Systems: Integrating blockchain with legacy supply chain systems can be complex and costly. Companies need to ensure that blockchain solutions are compatible with their existing infrastructure.

Scalability: Blockchain networks can face scalability issues, especially when handling large volumes of transactions. Developing scalable blockchain solutions that can support global supply chains is crucial for widespread adoption.

Regulatory and Legal Considerations: Blockchain's decentralized nature poses challenges for regulatory compliance. Companies must navigate complex legal landscapes to ensure their blockchain implementations adhere to local and international regulations.

Data Privacy: While blockchain provides transparency, it also raises concerns about data privacy. Companies need to balance the benefits of transparency with the need to protect sensitive information.

The Future of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management

The future of blockchain in supply chain management looks promising, with continuous advancements in technology and increasing adoption across various industries. As blockchain solutions become more scalable and interoperable, their impact on supply chains will grow, enhancing transparency, efficiency, and security.

Collaboration between technology providers, industry stakeholders, and regulators will be crucial for overcoming challenges and realizing the full potential of blockchain in supply chain management. By leveraging blockchain, companies can build more resilient and trustworthy supply chains, ultimately delivering better products and services to consumers.

Conclusion

Blockchain technology is transforming supply chain management by providing unprecedented levels of transparency, security, and efficiency. From provenance tracking and counterfeit prevention to streamlined payments and ethical sourcing, blockchain offers innovative solutions to long-standing supply chain challenges. Notable projects like IBM Food Trust, VeChain, TradeLens, and Everledger are leading the way in this digital revolution, showcasing the diverse applications of blockchain in supply chains.

For those interested in exploring the playful and innovative side of blockchain, Sexy Meme Coin offers a unique and entertaining platform. Visit Sexy Meme Coin to learn more and join the community.

#crypto #blockchain #defi #digitalcurrency #ethereum #digitalassets #sexy meme coin #binance #cryptocurrencies #blockchaintechnology #bitcoin #etf

284 notes · View notes

lune-moon-nuit · 5 days ago

Text

Does our future depend on technology?

Since the Industrial Revolution, technology has established itself as a major driver of human progress, profoundly transforming our lifestyles, knowledge, and relationship to the world. From medical breakthroughs to information technologies, through automation, technology seems to guide the major directions of our future. But can we truly say that our future depends on technology? Does this mean that technology determines our destiny, as an unavoidable, even uncontrollable force? Or should we understand that, while humanity's future is shaped by technology, it still relies on other dimensions — ethical, political, spiritual — that technology cannot encompass?

Thus, we shall ask: Is technology the necessary and sufficient condition for our future, or is it merely one means among others, subordinate to more fundamental human choices?

We will first examine how technology appears to be the primary engine of human evolution and thus of our future. Then, we will show that it does not necessarily guarantee a desirable future and that it cannot by itself guide humanity. Finally, we will argue that if our future does depend on technology, it is insofar as we choose how to use it — which brings us back to our ethical and political responsibility.

I. Technology as the decisive engine of human development

Technology, understood as the set of means invented by humans to transform their environment, is one of the fundamental traits of humanity. Since prehistoric times, the use of tools has distinguished Homo habilis from its ancestors: technology appears as consubstantial to our species, as Henri Bergson points out in Creative Evolution: “Man is the being who makes tools.”

Since then, every technological advance has marked a major turning point in history: writing, printing, the steam engine, electricity, the Internet… all these inventions have radically changed our societies, our modes of production, communication, and thought. Today, innovations in artificial intelligence, biotechnology, robotics, or energy heavily shape economic models, public policies, and ecological prospects for tomorrow.

In this sense, the future seems to depend on our ability to invent new technologies, to respond with technical means to the challenges of our time: climate crisis, pandemics, aging populations, resource scarcity. From a deterministic perspective, technology appears not only as a driving force but as a condition for humanity’s survival. This is what Heidegger discusses in The Question Concerning Technology, when he asserts that modern technology is no longer merely a tool, but a “challenging” of nature — a way of extracting all its available resources. It shapes our worldview, and therefore, our future.

II. But a future governed solely by technology is dangerous and illusory

However, to consider that our future depends exclusively on technology is to forget that it does not think for itself. It is a means, not an end. It is at the service of human intentions — for better or for worse. History abounds in examples of technology being used for destructive purposes: nuclear weapons, mass surveillance, uncontrolled genetic manipulation. As Hans Jonas warns, technological progress does not necessarily imply moral progress.

Technology can therefore both serve the future and harm it, depending on how it is used. It is a power that is fundamentally ambivalent. The atomic bomb and radiation therapy both use nuclear energy, but their aims are radically different. Far from automatically ensuring a better future, technology raises fundamental ethical questions: how far should we go in manipulating life? Are we still free in a world dominated by algorithms? Who truly benefits from technological innovation?

Consequently, reducing the future to a technical dependency would be to deny humanity’s capacity to choose, to exercise free will. It would mean abandoning our future to a logic of efficiency and profitability that ignores essential values such as justice, freedom, or human dignity.

III. Our future depends on technology, insofar as we remain its masters

Rather than viewing technology as a fatality, we must acknowledge that our future depends on how we design, regulate, and direct it. Humans remain the originators of technology: it is the fruit of our inventive mind, but also of our collective choices. In this sense, our future depends on technology only insofar as we integrate it within a broader political, philosophical, and ethical vision.

Hannah Arendt, in The Human Condition, emphasizes the distinction between labor, work, and action. While technology belongs to the domain of “work” — that is, fabrication — “action” involves freedom and responsibility. It is through political action, democratic debate, education, and critical reflection that humanity can direct the use of technology toward a desirable future.

Moreover, some of the most crucial questions for our future — such as the meaning of life, social justice, the relationship to others or to nature — cannot be answered by technology. These questions concern our deepest humanity. Technology can offer solutions to problems, but it does not define what a good life is, what a just world is, or what a harmonious society looks like. These concerns belong to philosophy, culture, and ethics.

Therefore, our future does not depend on technology per se, but on our ability to inscribe it within a vision of the world that is both humane and responsible.

Conclusion

It would be unrealistic to deny that technology plays a fundamental role in shaping our future: it transforms our ways of living, addresses major challenges, and opens unprecedented possibilities. But it is not neutral, nor self-sufficient. The future cannot rely solely on a means, without reflection on the ends.

Thus, our future does depend on technology, not as a fatality, but as a choice — the choice to use it for the common good, in accordance with human values. The real question is not whether technology will shape our future, but whether we will be able to shape technology toward a truly human future.

#philosophy #technology #future #politics #spirituality #humanity #henri bergson #heidegger #Creative Evolution #The Question Concerning Technology #Hans Jonas #hannah arendt #the human condition

36 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

Text

Cleantech has an enshittification problem

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

EVs won't save the planet. Ultimately, the material bill for billions of individual vehicles and the unavoidable geometry of more cars-more traffic-more roads-greater distances-more cars dictate that the future of our cities and planet requires public transit – lots of it.

But no matter how much public transit we install, there's always going to be some personal vehicles on the road, and not just bikes, ebikes and scooters. Between deliveries, accessibility, and stubbornly low-density regions, there's going to be a lot of cars, vans and trucks on the road for the foreseeable future, and these should be electric.

Beyond that irreducible minimum of personal vehicles, there's the fact that individuals can't install their own public transit system; in places that lack the political will or means to create working transit, EVs are a way for people to significantly reduce their personal emissions.

In policy circles, EV adoption is treated as a logistical and financial issue, so governments have focused on making EVs affordable and increasing the density of charging stations. As an EV owner, I can affirm that affordability and logistics were important concerns when we were shopping for a car.

But there's a third EV problem that is almost entirely off policy radar: enshittification.

An EV is a rolling computer in a fancy case with a squishy person inside of it. While this can sound scary, there are lots of cool implications for this. For example, your EV could download your local power company's tariff schedule and preferentially charge itself when the rates are lowest; they could also coordinate with the utility to reduce charging when loads are peaking. You can start them with your phone. Your repair technician can run extensive remote diagnostics on them and help you solve many problems from the road. New features can be delivered over the air.

That's just for starters, but there's so much more in the future. After all, the signal virtue of a digital computer is its flexibility. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing complete, universal, Von Neumann machine, which can run every valid program. If a feature is computationally tractable – from automated parallel parking to advanced collision prevention – it can run on a car.

The problem is that this digital flexibility presents a moral hazard to EV manufacturers. EVs are designed to make any kind of unauthorized, owner-selected modification into an IP rights violation ("IP" in this case is "any law that lets me control the conduct of my customers or competitors"):

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

EVs are also designed so that the manufacturer can unilaterally exert control over them or alter their operation. EVs – even more than conventional vehicles – are designed to be remotely killswitched in order to help manufacturers and dealers pressure people into paying their car notes on time:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Manufacturers can reach into your car and change how much of your battery you can access:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

They can lock your car and have it send its location to a repo man, then greet him by blinking its lights, honking its horn, and pulling out of its parking space:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

And of course, they can detect when you've asked independent mechanic to service your car and then punish you by degrading its functionality:

https://www.repairerdrivennews.com/2024/06/26/two-of-eight-claims-in-tesla-anti-trust-lawsuit-will-move-forward/

This is "twiddling" – unilaterally and irreversibly altering the functionality of a product or service, secure in the knowledge that IP law will prevent anyone from twiddling back by restoring the gadget to a preferred configuration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The thing is, for an EV, twiddling is the best case scenario. As bad as it is for the company that made your EV to change how it works whenever they feel like picking your pocket, that's infinitely preferable to the manufacturer going bankrupt and bricking your car.

That's what just happened to owners of Fisker EVs, cars that cost $40-70k. Cars are long-term purchases. An EV should last 12-20 years, or even longer if you pay to swap the battery pack. Fisker was founded in 2016 and shipped its first Ocean SUV in 2023. The company is now bankrupt:

https://insideevs.com/news/723669/fisker-inc-bankruptcy-chapter-11-official/

Fisker called its vehicles "software-based cars" and they weren't kidding. Without continuous software updates and server access, those Fisker Ocean SUVs are turning into bricks. What's more, the company designed the car from the ground up to make any kind of independent service and support into a felony, by wrapping the whole thing in overlapping layers of IP. That means that no one can step in with a module that jailbreaks the Fisker and drops in an alternative firmware that will keep the fleet rolling.

This is the third EV risk – not just finance, not just charger infrastructure, but the possibility that any whizzy, cool new EV company will go bust and brick your $70k cleantech investment, irreversibly transforming your car into 5,500 lb worth of e-waste.

This confers a huge advantage onto the big automakers like VW, Kia, Ford, etc. Tesla gets a pass, too, because it achieved critical mass before people started to wise up to the risk of twiddling and bricking. If you're making a serious investment in a product you expect to use for 20 years, are you really gonna buy it from a two-year old startup with six months' capital in the bank?

The incumbency advantage here means that the big automakers won't have any reason to sink a lot of money into R&D, because they won't have to worry about hungry startups with cool new ideas eating their lunches. They can maintain the cozy cartel that has seen cars stagnate for decades, with the majority of "innovation" taking the form of shitty, extractive and ill-starred ideas like touchscreen controls and an accelerator pedal that you have to rent by the month:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/23/23474969/mercedes-car-subscription-faster-acceleration-feature-price

Put that way, it's clear that this isn't an EV problem, it's a cleantech problem. Cleantech has all the problems of EVs: it requires a large capital expenditure, it will be "smart," and it is expected to last for decades. That's rooftop solar, heat-pumps, smart thermostat sensor arrays, and home storage batteries.

And just as with EVs, policymakers have focused on infrastructure and affordability without paying any attention to the enshittification risks. Your rooftop solar will likely be controlled via a Solaredge box – a terrible technology that stops working if it can't reach the internet for a protracted period (that's right, your home solar stops working if the grid fails!).

I found this out the hard way during the covid lockdowns, when Solaredge terminated its 3G cellular contract and notified me that I would have to replace the modem in my system or it would stop working. This was at the height of the supply-chain crisis and there was a long waiting list for any replacement modems, with wifi cards (that used your home internet rather than a cellular connection) completely sold out for most of a year.

There are good reasons to connect rooftop solar arrays to the internet – it's not just so that Solaredge can enshittify my service. Solar arrays that coordinate with the grid can make it much easier and safer to manage a grid that was designed for centralized power production and is being retrofitted for distributed generation, one roof at a time.

But when the imperatives of extraction and efficiency go to war, extraction always wins. After all, the Solaredge system is already in place and solar installers are largely ignorant of, and indifferent to, the reasons that a homeowner might want to directly control and monitor their system via local controls that don't roundtrip through the cloud.

Somewhere in the hindbrain of any prospective solar purchaser is the experience with bricked and enshittified "smart" gadgets, and the knowledge that anything they buy from a cool startup with lots of great ideas for improving production, monitoring, and/or costs poses the risk of having your 20 year investment bricked after just a few years – and, thanks to the extractive imperative, no one will be able to step in and restore your ex-solar array to good working order.

I make the majority of my living from books, which means that my pay is very "lumpy" – I get large sums when I publish a book and very little in between. For many years, I've used these payments to make big purchases, rather than financing them over long periods where I can't predict my income. We've used my book payments to put in solar, then an induction stove, then a battery. We used one to buy out the lease on our EV. And just a month ago, we used the money from my upcoming Enshittification book to put in a heat pump (with enough left over to pay for a pair of long-overdue cataract surgeries, scheduled for the fall).

When we started shopping for heat pumps, it was clear that this was a very exciting sector. First of all, heat pumps are kind of magic, so efficient and effective it's almost surreal. But beyond the basic tech – which has been around since the late 1940s – there is a vast ferment of cool digital features coming from exciting and innovative startups.

By nature, I'm the kid of person who likes these digital features. I started out as a computer programmer, and while I haven't written production code since the previous millennium, I've been in and around the tech industry for my whole adult life. But when it came time to buy a heat-pump – an investment that I expected to last for 20 years or more – there was no way I was going to buy one of these cool new digitally enhanced pumps, no matter how much the reviewers loved them. Sure, they'd work well, but it's precisely because I'm so knowledgeable about high tech that I could see that they would fail very, very badly.

You may think EVs are bullshit, and they are – though there will always be room for some personal vehicles, and it's better for people in transit deserts to drive EVs than gas-guzzlers. You may think rooftop solar is a dead-end and be all-in on utility scale solar (I think we need both, especially given the grid-disrupting extreme climate events on our horizon). But there's still a wide range of cleantech – induction tops, heat pumps, smart thermostats – that are capital intensive, have a long duty cycle, and have good reasons to be digitized and networked.

Take home storage batteries: your utility can push its rate card to your battery every time they change their prices, and your battery can use that information to decide when to let your house tap into the grid, and when to switch over to powering your home with the solar you've stored up during the day. This is a very old and proven pattern in tech: the old Fidonet BBS network used a version of this, with each BBS timing its calls to other nodes to coincide with the cheapest long-distance rates, so that messages for distant systems could be passed on:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FidoNet

Cleantech is a very dynamic sector, even if its triumphs are largely unheralded. There's a quiet revolution underway in generation, storage and transmission of renewable power, and a complimentary revolution in power-consumption in vehicles and homes:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/12/s-curve/#anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-eventually-stops

But cleantech is too important to leave to the incumbents, who are addicted to enshittification and planned obsolescence. These giant, financialized firms lack the discipline and culture to make products that have the features – and cost savings – to make them appealing to the very wide range of buyers who must transition as soon as possible, for the sake of the very planet.

It's not enough for our policymakers to focus on financing and infrastructure barriers to cleantech adoption. We also need a policy-level response to enshittification.

Ideally, every cleantech device would be designed so that it was impossible to enshittify – which would also make it impossible to brick:

Based on free software (best), or with source code escrowed with a trustee who must release the code if the company enters administration (distant second-best);

All patents in a royalty-free patent-pool (best); or in a trust that will release them into a royalty-free pool if the company enters administration (distant second-best);

No parts-pairing or other DRM permitted (best); or with parts-pairing utilities available to all parties on a reasonable and non-discriminatory basis (distant second-best);

All diagnostic and error codes in the public domain, with all codes in the clear within the device (best); or with decoding utilities available on demand to all comers on a reasonable and non-discriminatory basis (distant second-best).

There's an obvious business objection to this: it will reduce investment in innovative cleantech because investors will perceive these restrictions as limits on the expected profits of their portfolio companies. It's true: these measures are designed to prevent rent-extraction and other enshittificatory practices by cleantech companies, and to the extent that investors are counting on enshittification rents, this might prevent them from investing.

But that has to be balanced against the way that a general prohibition on enshittificatory practices will inspire consumer confidence in innovative and novel cleantech products, because buyers will know that their investments will be protected over the whole expected lifespan of the product, even if the startup goes bust (nearly every startup goes bust). These measures mean that a company with a cool product will have a much larger customer-base to sell to. Those additional sales more than offset the loss of expected revenue from cheating and screwing your customers by twiddling them to death.

There's also an obvious legal objection to this: creating these policies will require a huge amount of action from Congress and the executive branch, a whole whack of new rules and laws to make them happen, and each will attract court-challenges.

That's also true, though it shouldn't stop us from trying to get legal reforms. As a matter of public policy, it's terrible and fucked up that companies can enshittify the things we buy and leave us with no remedy.

However, we don't have to wait for legal reform to make this work. We can take a shortcut with procurement – the things governments buy with public money. The feds, the states and localities buy a lot of cleantech: for public facilities, for public housing, for public use. Prudent public policy dictates that governments should refuse to buy any tech unless it is designed to be enshittification-resistant.

This is an old and honorable tradition in policymaking. Lincoln insisted that the rifles he bought for the Union Army come with interoperable tooling and ammo, for obvious reasons. No one wants to be the Commander in Chief who shows up on the battlefield and says, "Sorry, boys, war's postponed, our sole supplier decided to stop making ammunition."

By creating a market for enshittification-proof cleantech, governments can ensure that the public always has the option of buying an EV that can't be bricked even if the maker goes bust, a heat-pump whose digital features can be replaced or maintained by a third party of your choosing, a solar controller that coordinates with the grid in ways that serve their owners – not the manufacturers' shareholders.

We're going to have to change a lot to survive the coming years. Sure, there's a lot of scary ways that things can go wrong, but there's plenty about our world that should change, and plenty of ways those changes could be for the better. It's not enough for policymakers to focus on ensuring that we can afford to buy whatever badly thought-through, extractive tech the biggest companies want to foist on us – we also need a focus on making cleantech fit for purpose, truly smart, reliable and resilient.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/26/unplanned-obsolescence/#better-micetraps

Image: 臺灣古寫真上色 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Raid_on_Kagi_City_1945.jpg

Grendelkhan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ground_mounted_solar_panels.gk.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

433 notes · View notes