#technologies-in-2075

[they-loved-in-2075]

Science fiction. Tragedy of blessings (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1385674672-science-fiction-tragedy-of-blessings?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Javid117&wp_originator=zmF9H%2Bouma7YOZqIsRoC%2B8EYwe9hDHNB%2FaYw8PsURvpAv2mTyfkoNvk00ipfDsJQbvOSy5o67tyVbm4Bxl2d587jP12cQJtGZQkDRcc8QCRStRCsHzMNlA8ik9HmanmO This short science fiction is about future space explorations in 2075. Where huge corporations have set up bases in the space and are investing heavily in the extraction of rare metals from asteroids . This short scifi is about a similar assignment taken by the crew of company named Star Titans. They have spotted an asteroid bearing rare metals worth trillions of dollars, and they have called in the experts ( Extreme Risk Takers ) to be launched onto the freely moving asteroid. But things do not go as planned; and how the Extreme Risk Takers survive, is a story that will keep you hooked and thrilled!

[moneyupacademy]

Asking hard questions

I do not like asking questions, but I cannot avoid it for my own good. I do not like asking questions, but I cannot avoid it for my own good. Since arriving in Australia, every professor and supervisor has emphasised the importance of asking questions, repeating that there are no stupid questions, just ask any questions. I appreciate that encouragement. Despite this, I still find it…

[meowcats734]

This article is about the rogue planet. For the mythological figure, see Icarus (mythology). For other uses, see Icarus (disambiguation).

Icarus was an icy rogue planet discovered in 2024. It is thought to have been ejected from its unknown home star 2.6 billion years ago. From early 2071 to late 2075, Icarus was present in the solar system, and was often visible to the naked eye. Of the lifeforms endemic to Icarus, only four hundred and seven species—an estimated .000005%—were documented by scientists. Of Icarus’ sapient lifeforms, only one living Singer (Icarus Sapiens) has been successfully returned to Earth.

Initially, interest in Icarus was predominantly limited to the scientific community once it was announced in 2025 that Icarus would not directly threaten Earth as it passed through the solar system. However, after the 2031 CLARITY mission, when liquid water and potential biosignatures were first detected beneath Icarus’ cryosphere, funding towards the exploration of Icarus rose significantly.

First Contact

Before the 2052 Daedalus landing site was established, popular consensus was that the first alien lifeforms humanity met would be technologically superior. However, the first Singer settlement discovered by the Daedalus crewed submersible was a tribal society formed within the decaying corpse of a Large-bodied Tenor (Mellifluus Civitas). The settlement, best translated as “Distortion of Sound in Warm, Rising Water”, was chosen due to its proximity to the Daedalus drill site; gas bubbles in the body caused by decomposition allowed Distortion to float approximately two kilometers above the surface of the ocean floor.

Although initial protocol for the Daedalus crew was to avoid contact, the crew did not anticipate the precision and sensitivity of Singer echolocation, and were swiftly detected. Despite initial concerns of conflict, with the assistance of the Daedalus AI’s linguistic analysis, tentative contact was established. By 2053, the Daedalus crew had established a basic understanding of Singer biology and the culture of Distortion.

The largest barrier to communication was the nature of Singer language. The primary Singer sense was their echolocation; as they evolved sapience, Singers learned to communicate by mimicking the sounds they heard when echolocating certain objects. Several Singer “words” well-known to popular culture include: the sound of a pod of Singers migrating (lit. “family”); the faint echoes produced by calling into empty water (lit. “loneliness”); and the high-pitched hum of the Daedalus propellers (lit. “impotent gods”).

The Massacre of Worms

Of utmost importance was successfully communicating to the Singers that Icarus was on a collision course with the Sun, and would be entirely destroyed by 2076. Even in 2053, the ice sheet which covered Icarus was already beginning to sublimate under the increased temperature. As there existed no word for fire, sun, or stars in the Singer language, a warning that their world would soon decay (lit. the sound of flesh devoured by worms, growing louder and coming from all directions) was transmitted to the citizens of Distortion of Sound in Warm, Rising Water.

In what is now known as the Massacre of Worms, the entirety of the Singer village immediately attempted to attack the Daedalus submersible. At the time, the mechanism by which Singers communicated was still poorly understood, but interviews and brain scans of the Last Singer have confirmed that Icarus Sapiens experience a species-wide condition similar to human synesthesia. In order to convert the feedback from their echolocation into useable information about their spatial environment, Singers evolved the ability to “see” sounds as hallucinated physical objects. As such, every word spoken by a Singer produces a corresponding illusory image in the mind of every Singer who hears it. Unfortunately, the warning delivered by the Daedalus submersible manifested as an imploding sphere of rotting flesh centered on the village of Distortion, and was interpreted as an attack. The Daedalus submersible sustained little damage, but out of fear that the Distortion villagers would sour relations with other Singer societies, released hypochlorous acid clouds to calm the attackers; it was believed that high concentrations of hypochlorous acid would cause the Singers to become lethargic and contented, as if they had recently consumed a filling meal. Unfortunately, due to a poor understanding of Singer biochemical sexual dimorphism, the chemicals released resulted in the deaths of nearly half of the Distortion villagers.

Through great difficulty, it was conveyed to the surviving Distortion villagers that the Massacre of Worms was a mistake, but the remaining Singers refused further contact with the Daedalus crew. Although a second attempt to halt the spread of negative rumors in Singer society was considered, the disastrous failure of the first attempt caused no action to be taken.

Termination of the Daedalus Mission

Swiftly following the Massacre of Worms came a breakthrough in solar magnetohydrodynamics, and with it, the alarming discovery that the collision of Icarus with the sun would cause a solar storm, which would deal trillions of dollars of damage to the economy. Negative press surrounding the Daedalus crew, as well as the importance of hardening the global power grid against the solar flare, caused funding for the Daedalus expedition to be cut, and the mission slated to end in 2060.

In an effort to preserve as much of Icaran life and culture as possible, the Daedalus crew attempted to make contact with and offer salvation to as many diverse Singer settlements as they could. At the peak of their efforts, in 2059, they had made contact with nineteen different Singer settlements around the planet, and although the Daedalus crew’s claims of planetary destruction were met with widespread skepticism, sixteen of them agreed to send representative Singers back to Earth. Unfortunately, four weeks before the launch date, when the Singer representatives were brought together, hitherto-unknown cultural conflicts between the Singer settlements the Daedalus crew had contacted caused the Singers to devolve into physical combat. A still-shoddy understanding of Singer biology led to the Daedalus crew being unable to save most of the Singers injured in the brawl. In the end, only one Singer survived the destruction of Icarus.

See also:

National Icaran Zoo

Icarus in popular culture

Consumption of Icaran lifeforms by country

Death of the Last Singer

(psst, I write more stuff here!)

[tonyspank]

STAY READY (WHAT A LIFE)

"Here in this dimension, you and I are meant to be..."

Summary:  In the year of 2075, in a futuristic world where soulmates are determined by their markings, you serve as a police officer in a high-tech city. However, there's more to your identity than meets the eye, and your superior, Hannah, has secrets to reveal.

Warnings: death, bit of angst, philosophy, rushed ending

A/N: had mixed emotions abt posting this, might delete bc idk how to feel, hope u guys enjoy

also wanted to post this bc i’ll be going in a little “writing vacay” basically not gonna be posting anything until i finish majority of my fics

In the year 2075, technology has advanced to unimaginable heights. Everything was futuristic, from self-driving cars and flying drones to holographic displays and virtual reality. There were some parts that still remained untouched by technology: the lower-class side of the city.

The side you passed to get home from work, was a stark contrast to the high-tech world that existed just a few blocks away. Brick buildings a few years away from crumbling away, littered streets, and dimly lit alleyways were the norm in the forgotten part of town.

The lower-class side of the city seemed frozen in time, trapped in an era that had long been left behind.

You felt similar, feeling as if you were frozen in time. Or even as if time had been in a loop, every day is the same, repeating the same routine over and over again. You had joined the police force when you turned 19.

You can't remember anything before that; it felt as if your childhood life was a blur. You had always wondered about your past, but there were no answers to be found.

There were barely any crimes due to the fact that cameras were everywhere, along with drones that could identify you in less than a second. The constant surveillance made it nearly impossible for anyone to get away with anything.

You still found a way to rank up, taking on additional responsibilities and becoming a respected member of the force. Your dedication and hard work did not go unnoticed, and you were eventually promoted to a leadership position within the police force.

"Y/LN." You raise your eyebrow, twisting your chair around toward the familiar voice. Standing in the doorway is your higher-up, Hannah, the Chief of Police. She has a stern expression on her face, waiting for you to address her.

You quickly stand up, walking over to her to see what the matter is. Hannah always had a stern expression on her face, even when she was in a good mood.

But this time, it felt different.

Hannah motions for you to follow her, leading you down the hallway towards the conference room. You follow behind Hannah with ease, dodging and weaving between the mix of androids and human officers bustling about the police station.

Entering the conference room, Hannah slaps the folder against the desk, causing a loud thud that echoes in the room. Her eyes bore into yours as she starts explaining the details of a confidential mission having to deal with the president and his late daughter.

"The sons of bitches actually made the serum..." Hannah mutters, taking a photo out of the folder and sliding it across the table towards you. The photo reveals a vial filled with a glowing blue liquid, labeled "Project Seraphim."

Project Seraphim, a top-secret government initiative, was aimed at resurrecting the president's daughter, who had tragically passed away. Ashely Redfield, the president's daughter and a young girl who never got to experience the fullness of life, was the inspiration behind Project Seraphim. The serum was meant to bring her back to life, offering a glimmer of hope to her grieving father.

"...years ago." Hannah finishes, clenching her jaw. "Dr. Murphy finished Project Seraphim and never informed anyone about its success. He kept it hidden, for what reason? I don't know. All I know is that you need to find him and get the serum. This came directly from the president, and you're the only one I trust to carry out this mission."

You eye the file on the desk, which contains all the information about Project Seraphim and Dr. Murphy's whereabouts. With a nod of your head, you agree, "Understood."

-

It was nighttime when you left the station, rain falling from the dark sky, the only thing lighting up the city being the neon signs and holograms flickering in the distance.

For the first time in years, you felt...overwhelmed. The weight of the mission and the responsibility entrusted to you by the president seemed to bear down on your shoulders. You continued to stroll through the rain-soaked streets, rolling up your sleeve slightly, revealing the mark on your forearm.

The mark was a symbol to show you had a soulmate out there. Your soulmate was supposed to have the same marking as your own, connecting the two of you in a deep and unbreakable bond.

It had always been a source of comfort and hope, knowing that somewhere in this vast city, your soulmate was waiting for you.

You run your hand over your marking, feeling the raised texture and tracing the intricate design. The feeling was soothing, even more so than the raindrops cascading down your skin, which seemed to echo the rhythm of your heartbeat, as if nature itself were in tune with the anticipation in your chest.

With a deep and long sigh, you cover up your marking, carrying on with your walk home.

Your routine has been broken. A figure stood at the edge of the bridge, which separated the two halves of your town. The figure's silhouette was illuminated by the dim streetlights, casting a shadow on the bridge's worn-out wooden planks.

You furrowed your eyebrows, breaking the cycle, and walking toward the figure, who seemed to not care about the rain that fell on them. Only a few feet away, you stood beside the now-revealed woman, who stared ahead, watching the small ripples forming in the river below.

She was gorgeous; more than gorgeous, she was enchanting, captivating even in the gloomy night. Her eyes held a hint of sadness, reflecting the weight of her thoughts. You couldn't help but be drawn to her mysterious aura, wondering what had brought her to this desolate bridge on such a rainy night.

Her lips began to curve in a small smile, and you had nearly missed the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. She turns to you, smiling softly, her eyes pouring into yours—eye contact that felt both intimate and unsettling. It was as if she could see right through you, unraveling the depths of your soul with just a glance.

You found yourself captivated by her gaze, unable to break free from the magnetic pull of her eyes. Then you heard her for the first time, your heartbeat racing more than it ever has before. Was this healthy?

"The rain can be quite therapeutic, wouldn't you agree?" Her voice was like a gentle melody, soothing yet mysterious. You feel the raindrops on your skin, cooling and cleansing, as if washing away the weight of the world. It's as if her words have a magical power, bringing a sense of calm and clarity to your troubled mind.

"Yes, it is," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your eyes away from her. The way she spoke and the way she looked at you made you feel like she could understand every hidden part of your being. She gives you another smile before turning her attention back to the river. "I'm Jenna if you were wondering."

"Y/N."

"I like watching the rain hit the water—seeing the ripples in the water as each raindrop creates its own unique pattern." Your eyes don't drift away from the woman, watching her side profile as she gazes out at the rain-soaked scenery.

"Even watching the raindrops that hit the dock is mesmerizing," she adds. "There are more than 200,000 raindrops that fall a minute, yet each one has its own individual impact on the world around us. People take rain for granted, complaining about how it ruins their plans or makes them wet, but they fail to appreciate the beauty and significance of each raindrop."

She continues, "Rain is essential for life, nourishing plants and hell even replenishing our water sources. It's a reminder of nature's power and the interconnectedness of all living things."

She turns back toward you, her eyes flickering with a sense of wonder. "Don't you kind of think we're like raindrops? Each of us may seem small and insignificant on our own, but together we have the power to create a ripple effect and make a difference in the world." She smiles as you stare at her, confused and intrigued by her analogy.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get too philosophical there. It's just something I've been thinking about lately. But hey, maybe it's something worth pondering, right?" She chuckles, breaking the momentary silence between you two.

You break into a smile. "No, don't apologize. I actually love that analogy. It's a beautiful way to look at things." Jenna's smile increases, her eyes lighting up with appreciation. "I'm glad you think so," she replies.

"Sometimes, it's easy to feel like our actions don't matter in the grand scheme of things. But if we can believe that even the smallest acts of kindness or positive change can create a ripple effect, then maybe we can find the motivation to keep making a difference. Like you taking the time out of your night to listen to me," she whispers the last part, breaking the eye contact she's been holding and looking down at her hands.

You open your mouth to speak, but you're cut off by the angelic voice. "Thank you; it was really nice talking to you, but I have to go now."

Jenna walks away in a hurry, leaving you standing on the wooden bridge alone, feeling a mixture of confusion and gratitude. You watch her disappear into the distance, wondering what impact your conversation had on her.

-

It's been days since your mission and days since your conversation with Jenna. You find yourself replaying the conversation in your mind, trying to decipher any hidden meaning behind her words. The memory of her angelic voice and the intensity of the moment still linger, leaving you with a sense of longing to know if she's okay.

A knock is heard at your door, interrupting your thoughts. John, a fellow officer in your field, hands you a file with a frown on his face. "Homicide," he says, scratching his beard. "We've got a new case, and it's a messy one. I thought you should take a look."

You quickly skim through the file while John briefs you on the details. "A young girl in her 20s was found dead three days ago, but there's no sign of a fight nor any obvious cause of death. We have her body in the laboratory for further examination, but so far, the autopsy results have been inconclusive. It's like she just... died. No witnesses, no suspects, nothing. Her names—"

Jenna?

"—Jenna." Your heart drops, flipping back and forth between shock and disbelief. Jenna. The same Jenna you met on the bridge that night, and the same Jenna that is supposedly your soulmate.

The marking on her back is the same as the marking on your arm. You feel a chill run down your spine as you realize you met your soulmate that night. Only once you find out do you realize that she is now gone forever.

What could have happened to Jenna, and why did fate bring you together only to tear you apart so suddenly?

"Y/LN? You alright?" John mutters, snapping you out of your thoughts. You eye the officer, still lost in your own world.

No, you weren't going to let the only person who brought you happiness after such a long time slip away without a fight.

Without a word, you jump up from your chair, pushing past your co-workers and rushing out of the office. You were going to use that serum on Jenna, not the president's daughter.

You burst through the doors of the laboratory, Hannah standing there with a puzzled expression on her face. "Y/LN, what's going on?" she asks, you were the last person she expected to see bursting into the lab.

Ignoring her question, you turn to a worker at the lab and urgently ask, "Where is Jenna Ortega's body? I need to see her immediately." The worker looks taken aback by your sudden request but quickly directs you to the morgue.

You remember the room number, then return back to Hannah, bumping past her and into the room she had just exited, the serum had been held here until the president was able to make his way down to your city, fortunately, he had been too busy to visit the lab earlier.

The four-digit code that you set and remember with ease is punched into the safe, unlocking with a loud beep. You grab the blue serum, turning around, only to be met with a gun pointed at your face. The person holding the gun is none other than Hannah; her expression cold and determined.

"Damnit, Y/LN. Don't make me do this," she mumbles, taking the safety off her gun. "Who told you about Jenna, huh?" You freeze, your mind racing to figure out how Hannah found out about Jenna.

"You knew? You knew Jenna was my soulmate?" Your voice trembles as you try to comprehend the situation. Hannah pauses for a moment, her grip on the gun tightening. "I've known for a while now," she admits. "There's some things you don't understand. You have an old soul, and I like that about you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You grit, confusion, and anger bubbling up inside you. Hannah's eyes narrow, a flicker of sadness crossing her face.

"You're not human, Y/N. You're something more, something special. You were created by SynthoTech, a company that specializes in advanced artificial intelligence and genetic engineering. They designed you to possess enhanced abilities and a unique consciousness, and it was either to terminate you or let you work for the government.

You're unlike any other Android that's been created before. Your thoughts and emotions are not just programmed responses but rather a genuine experiences. You have the capacity to feel joy, love, and even pain.

It's both a gift and a burden as you navigate a world that may not fully understand or accept you. I don't know why Jenna was your soulmate; I really don't get it, but we couldn't let you get off your program. So I had to eliminate her."

Hannah lets out a sigh. "Fucking hell, Y/N. Just set down the serum and let's figure out a way to keep you safe. No one has to know about this, okay? I can reset your program--"

"No!" You interrupt, "I'm not going to let you erase my memories and reset me like some kind of...fuck...no. You killed Jenna, and now you want to erase her from my existence too? This is so fucked up."

"The world is a fucked up place, Y/LN. What do expect to happen if you inject Jenna with that serum? You think the president is gonna let an android and human have a happily ever after with the cure that was made for his daughter?"

You shake your head, anger and frustration coursing through you. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be part of some twisted experiment or to be caught in the middle of political agendas. Jenna deserved better than this, and so do I."

"And so did Ashely; Jenna got to live her life, but Ashely was robbed of that opportunity." You take a step closer to Hannah, your eyebrows furrowed together tightly.

"Do you fucking hear yourself? You also robbed Jenna of the opportunity to live her life. You killed her for something she couldn't control! You're a hypocrite."

Hannah's face pales as your words sink in. She takes a step back, her eyes filled with guilt and remorse. The weight of her actions finally dawns on her, leaving her speechless and unable to defend herself.

Hannah lowers her gun and says, "Hurry." You hesitate for a moment, conflicted by the sudden change in Hannah's demeanor. "What?"

"Hurry up before I change my mind," Hannah says, her voice trembling. "I don't want to be responsible for any more pain and suffering."

Taking your chance, you run out of the room and toward Jenna with the serum in your hand.

You unlock the door to the morgue and step inside, the cold air hitting you as you scan the room for Jenna Ortega's body. She lies on a stainless steel table, pale and lifeless. You rush to her side, praying that it's not too late. Injecting the serum into your soulmate, you watch anxiously as her body stirs and color returns to her cheeks.

You whisper words of encouragement, urging Jenna to fight for her life.

Relief washes over you as Jenna's eyes flutter open, and she takes a deep breath. "Y/N," she whispers weakly, her voice barely audible. You hold her hand tightly, grateful that you were able to save her from the brink of death.

You roll up your sleeve, revealing the marking on your forearm, silently explaining that you're her soulmate. Jenna's gaze shifts to your forearm, her eyes widening with recognition as she traces her finger over the marking.

[exvero]

[ TRANSCRIPT. 07/02/2076, 02:34AM. ] << 'Night City eats everyone alive', I got told. I mean, it does, but ... it's not surprising. Paris and Marseilles were also hungry, so I've just traded one merdier for another. It's fine. There's people here that need me, too. >>

Gustave Carré, born in rural France in 2045. Architecture in smaller cities and towns is a blend of the contemporary and preserved 18th century styles, giving a rise to a healthy mix of automation / technological development and a more natural lifestyle. Gustave lives among both worlds, as it were, coming to appreciate their overlapping complexity. He unfortunately moves to Paris for university, pursuing a career in cyberware development; more specifically, bioware engineering.

at 24, halfway through his research project, Gustave catches the attention of and is recruited by Biotechnica, and spends the next five years working in soil revitalization and crop management / optimization, aimed towards the development of smaller communities. It is during his tenure with the company that he meets Sophie Vaillancourt (with whom he brings the Aquafarm 3 project into full fruition) and Maelle (a young orphaned girl from one of Paris' outer neighborhoods).

he also dates Sophie, because how could that not happen. It is a relatively long commitment, lasting just over four years, but they eventually break up in 2073 due to their differences in lifepaths. It's amicable but bittersweet.

at 29 and in late 2073, just a few months after breaking up with Sophie, he's granted an opportunity to head stateside; specifically (because all roads lead to fucking Rome), Night City. Biotechnica hopes to use his skills in bioware development and add him to the roster of teams dedicated to soil revitalization and climate change remediation work, especially as it relates to nomad clans like the Aldecaldos, a position he accepts with some reservation but with no small amount of hope. Maelle, now his legal charge, heads out with him.

in January of 2074, Gustave is officially transferred to Biotechnica's NC division. It's nothing short of culture shock, and there's no quick or proper way to acclimate to the sheer chaos of the city. He is horrendously at odds with everything in it, with his only comfort being the relative peace of his (very much loaned, as long as he's employed) apartment at Corporate Plaza.

What really turns his life around is being in the crossfire of a drive - by shooting. Long story made quite short, he's far more affected by Trauma Team only looking after him and evacuating him and not the two other civilians involved in the shootout (it's very Edgerunners reminiscent, with David and Gloria). Being aware of the reasons why, though, doesn't make the aftermath any easier to deal with.

he toughs out his next year in Biotechnica with every intention of quitting the company, and as such he starts setting money aside and planning for Maelle's life to be as undisrupted as possible. Gustave resigns in August of 2075, and it doesn't take him long to embark on the next chapter of his life even if it's almost quite literally from zero.

by 2077, Gustave has claimed his own corner of Night City; more specifically, as a ripperdoc based in the Glen. He's fashioned something of a reputation for himself for being efficient and as reasonable as NC allows, and is one of the few docs to treat his clinic as neutral ground ... with exceptions. He has little to no sympathy for anyone claiming affiliation with the Scavengers, Maelstrom or the Tyger Claws; coincidentally, these are the three most present gangs in Kabuki, and they have designated him as persona non grata. Conversely, as a (formerly regular, now occasional) patron of Lizzie's, Gustave has established his own affiliation with The Mox. It's well - known that he is quite literally their ripperdoc on call despite living in the south side, especially for urgent cases. Most Mox will have their preferred specialist, sure, but Frances will never turn any of them down.

[ EXTRA FACTS &. BITS. ]

it started out as one of the girls calling him Francés (Spanish for French, the demonym), but one thing led to the other and now the accent is bastardized so Frances it is. Gustave has accepted the callsign/nickname hybrid, because at least none of them have called him Gus.

he's recognizable as one of the least chromed - up ripperdocs. The only major standout other than basics such as Kiroshi optics is his left arm, which he lost in the drive - by shooting. He's made modifications to it to fit precision tools in the fingers, which he deploys when he works.

other than the monowire implant he was convinced to get, Gustave often carries a Unity handgun as his chosen self - defense kit, which he's coupled with a punknife in a reverse hold. If that wasn't enough, he keeps a baseball bat in his clinic, courtesy of the Mox. This was actually a "gift" from Rita.

(*my first preliminary post had adaptation possibilities re: the Expeditioners but I'll develop those at a later time!)

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

does anyone else have that existential sadness or dread when thinking about the fact that we might not be around to see 2099.

like id be 97... kids born this year will be 74. i dont know man. it makes me feel emotional thinking like i probably won't get to see people celebrating the new century the way i saw people do for 2000. sometimes i think about that. its such a weird thing to think about, though. like i want to see what its like from a social standpoint. how would people write the year differently come the next century. do we switch to 01 again? but technology would be absolutely different then and surely that has more records of the 2000s rather than a new century because its not like the gap in technology between 1901 to 2001. so like what would people do once we'd switch. i just like think about that stuff. i wonder sometimes. ya know people who are born this year are kinda lucky because damn dude, you have a 25 year start on the century. you most likely will see how it ends. youd be 50 in 2075 while id be 72.. i don't want to get old and die man. i want to live forever.

[aggravateddurian]

Brother's Shadow/The President's Lady | Melanie Foster

In Brother's Shadow, Melanie dumps Val off screen by fleeing NC and ghosting her. In The President's Lady, which is a Chorus timeline, Val and Melanie stay together.

She's actually an NPV conversion of my first Fem V, just as Dorian (my avatar character) is my first Masc V, and the V I played as on release in 2020.

Full Lore below:

Melanie is a former employee of Macroware and specialised in Braindance technology. She left the company after being asked by executives to investigate using braindances to implant subliminal suggestions directly into audience minds to manipulate their decision making to purchase sponsors' products and services.

She met Valerie in 2075. Though Val was a Solo by trade, she was a proficient techie and the pair bonded over working on Val's homebuilt computer, which blossomed into a relationship.

Basically, two computer nerds fall in love while building PC.

[worldiary]

Us in 2075 when credit cards have gone extinct in favor of facial recognition hologram payment processors and we need our grandkids to teach us how to prevent scams except the scams are no longer lengthy attempts to get your password over the phone, no, instead it's "Grandma remember not to look directly at anything other than what you want to buy" and we're like "what do you mean that guy's bright orange backpack charged me money for looking at it? back in MY day technology made SENSE" and they're like "Grandma I love you but you're ridiculous. That said... yes, I will go buy you a Pumpkin Spice Frappuccino"

why did she sign off with that

[k-llewellin-novelist-news-feed]

"This reddish dwarf planet follows such an extreme orbit that it takes over 11,000 years to complete a single journey around the Sun. Now, scientists are proposing a new mission to reach this distant world using a revolutionary propulsion technology."

[they-loved-in-2075]

Science fiction. The civilisation (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1390947906-science-fiction-the-civilisation?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Javid117&wp_originator=CD8mGWp%2BjKgiQT5%2FyLv4lJ0vWA80EcWM6wCvHmDbIu%2FQ3E%2BUWO5cgvw9zAg%2BotVLbMSXTj0bEp7mL11DxRjmn8gyTL4sJiRaiNbAl%2BWMVZf3K6KpYczUDtTRRZScgLWu This science fiction is about how children make an alien civilisation land in one of the lakes of their city, and how their courage impresses the aliens. This short scifi story offers duality of of feelings, emotions and courage. And it shows how something we love is always worth believing in and protecting. Before I reveal the entire story, please read it and experience the power of true and not self centred courage. A short scifi story with a larger than life message.

[randomness-is-my-order]

This prompt seriously fired my neurons into all sorts of zigzagging ways and I am interpreting this a bit differently, I think, but I couldn’t stop writing once I started, so!

Here is the story! Hope you enjoy!

_________

THE EPSTEAN CONUNDRUM

April, 2075.

That day, Planetary TV, the first ever interstellar news channel, was watched by almost the entirety of earth’s population. Snarky teenagers sat huddled in groups, their smartphones held in shaky hands. Adults congregated in their workplace cafeterias, the overhead television screens inculcating an acute anticipation within them. Even toddlers sat on living room sofas, their parents holding their hands, the screens alight before them.

The oldest and the youngest of the world waited with bated breaths and watched the popular reporter Katie Stones cover the launch of the automated battle starships that would soon be propelled into deep space.

“The Epteans, our fearsome alien adversaries, have terrorised our near-earth orbits for a decade,” Katie spoke with her trademark fierceness. “They have dropped their explosives on inhabited lands and tried to contaminate our water sources. They have destroyed our communication lines and most recently, they have gone and abducted several of our people with their infiltrating orbiters! This is space terrorism at its most cruel. We humans cannot pull our punches anymore. The finest minds of our world have come together and created a legion of automated battle machines. Today, we make a stand, citizens. Today, we fight for humanity!”

United against a common enemy, mankind cheered together as their screens were filled with the grounds of various launch centres. The state-of-the-art technology was plainly obvious and after a decade of relentless space skirmishes, humans felt hope blossom within their hearts.

The ignition began, the fuel burnt, the rockets launched together from all parts of the world–and amidst this cacophony, mankind finally found peace once more.

Or at least, that was what global media would have them believe.

March, 2100.

It was a peaceful morning within NASA’s Communication Satellite Station when the message was first received with startling clarity. It was a foreign sender–none of the American satellites or the ISS had been recognised by their systems–and one that had recently entered their radio telescope’s range. For Dr. Linda, who was seated before a computer screen with her daily cup of coffee, the one singular word suddenly materialised with ominous implications.

“HELP,” it read.

Of course, Linda spent the next two minutes making sure her eyes were not receiving her–she had indulged in her caffeine intake more than usual that day–and after she was certain that this truly was a pointed, deliberately sent plea for help, she quickly informed the higher-ups of this development.

A group of professionals were put to work right after and soon, everyone within the Station had heard of a very surprising discovery:

An Epstean spacecraft had been the sender of the signal.

Their interstellar enemies that had abandoned the space war that they themselves had instigated against Earth. Twenty years, and not a peep had been heard from them. Mankind’s battle-crafts had been successful–overwhelmingly so, if the Epstean’s lack of communication thereafter was any indication.

But now, there was an Epstean spaceship at their doorstep, knocking for help, insistently sending them messages.

The tables had truly turned.

“They sent it in English?” Firoz Alam, the head of the Interplanetary Affairs department asked with some mirth, looking around the table of highly ranked professionals. The round table conference was being held a mere hour after the message was first received, an embargo instantly placed on all news outlets and a strict restriction on any outflow of information.

“Those arrogant fuckers always sent in cryptic codes before–with convoluted keys to crack them. They knew English by then but being cordial is apparently not amongst their social values.”

“It is now,” Commander Smith said pointedly, his usually smooth voice laced with some derision. “When they need our help, look how their egos fall.”

“Gentlemen, we have more pressing matters to discuss than the Epstean and their hypocritical ways,” Sasha Jones, the head of space security, interrupted with a sharp look. Clearing her throat, she went on, “We have run the signal under several tests and have been monitoring the alien spacecraft since its entrance into our geostationary earth orbit. This spacecraft is clearly occupied by an Epstean or several and they have not yet revealed their identity beyond what is obvious. There are several scenarios that could have led to this outcome but I do think the most plausible case is that one of the Epstean’s deep-space expeditions went awry and the craft that we now have amongst us contains the survivors. The ones desperate enough to seek our refuge.”

The Epsteans lived more than four light-years away from Earth, its planetary system based around their second closest star, Proxima Centauri. Their planet was boorishly named EP-786 by humans and their creative name-coining intellectuals and they were summarily dubbed the Epsteans after the first time the two civilizations made contact.

It was around the time travel at light speed had just evolved into functionality and finding foreign spacecrafts was common before official treaties and a unified space law were introduced to contain the chaos. As such, the Epstean spacecraft was trespassing into Earth’s bounds and it was entirely up to humans to decide what to do against it. Considering the time it took to travel from EP-786 to Earth, the aliens inside the spaceship could have stranded in space for atleast four years.

No wonder they had stooped so low as to send a message in English.

“Send them back,” Commander Smith said matter-of-factly. “Give them fuel if that’s what they want but allowing them to land? I am against it.”

“We do not know what they want,” Sasha said, her voice placating. She knew Commander Smith wasn’t usually an unreasonable fellow but his hate for the Epstean was personal. He had lost his brother in the abductions during the space war and those kinds of wounds never healed. Death would have been a kinder tragedy to bear. The uncertainty that so many had been plagued with was far more cruel.

“Have they said anything besides “HELP”?” Darcy, one of NASA’s veteran astronauts and a foremost officer in human affairs, spoke up. “Have we sent them back any signal ourselves?”

Firoz nodded his head, “Just that we have received their correspondence. Standard procedure, you understand. They have not yet shown their vocabulary outside of their first message. Might we send them a dictionary upstairs?”

“This is not the time, Firoz,” Sasha said. “Diplomacy is supposed to be your thing. Acting like a teenager with a grudge doesn’t suit your rank.”

“I have been sending the Epstean meticulously worded messages for twenty five years, Sasha,” Firoz said with an almost huff. “And their response? Silence. I am allowed a petty moment or two.”

“Suit yourself,” Sasha responded, tempted to roll her eyes. The situation was so ridiculous and so conducive to making them smug, she knew this couldn’t be helped. “But our main question is how do we navigate this matter. I assume the Epsteans will eventually relay their needs. But if, suppose, one of them is injured, what should we consider doing? Their anatomy is fundamentally different than ours and we have very little information to help us aid them, anyway.”

“Shouldn’t they have a medic on-board?” Commander Smith asked. “As far as I remember, there was never an incident during the war when they had to retreat due to casualities. It was always because their machinery was harmed beyond salvage or we had destroyed their attack starships. I remember, at the time, my squadron leader theorizing that these Epsteans have no concept of medical treatment. Their bodies either recover naturally or they just... die.”

“That is in line with what we know of them through some of the things they shared back then,” Firoz said thoughtfully. “If a fatal wound isn’t the problem–”

Sasha made a concerned noise and they all looked at her.

Tearing her gaze away from her laptop screen, she said, “Another signal was received almost two minutes ago. This one said “we have an emergency” in all caps.”

“Emergency?” Commander Smith echoed dubiously. “The Epsteans? What kind of emergency are we talking? Could it be that someone is dying up there after all?”

“What if they are rogues?” Darcy put forth. “There were a few deserters amongst their ranks, weren’t there? I recall Planetary TV making a big show of it. Those Epsteans were chased by their own kind relentlessly and later punished according to their laws.”

“What kind of moron would think we humans would give them any different treatment?” Firoz asked, scoffing in disbelief. “Do the Epsteans in the spacecraft believe we will receive them with open arms and mercy?”

“Maybe it is not as grievous as any of that,” Sasha said, typing something on her keyboard. “Maybe they are just trying to hold our attention and get us to help them? It could be that they are out of whatever helps with their sustenance. They always wanted to mine our land for resources. It was and is a well-accepted hypothesis that they need some kind of metallic ore for survival.”

“In that case, the craft does not need to land on Earth,” Darcy said, glancing sideways at Commander Smith. “We can send our astronauts in a well-equipped ship and they can establish a more elaborate communication with the Epstean. If some metal or fuel is all they need, I agree that sending them right back is the safest path.”

“But not the cleverest,” Firoz said, his eyes gaining a faraway look. “I’ve been thinking, Dr. Sasha.”

Sasha set her laptop aside for a moment and regarded Firoz with both suspicion and interest, “Yes?”

“You said we know very little about the Epstean and their anatomy,” Firoz said, his voice level. “So why not use this as an opportunity to rectify that?”

A bout of silence spread over the table. The ones who had been merely observing so far–less-ranked officers and managing personnel–exchanged loaded looks amongst themselves while Sasha’s eyes narrowed at the implications of Firoz’s idea.

“What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Amal?” Sasha asked archly.

“We study the Epstean,” Firoz said simply. “No more, no less.”

“By forcing them?” Darcy asked what they all wanted to.

“Not necessarily,” Firoz replied, aware that everyone was viewing him in a less than stellar light. “It could be a mutually beneficial exchange. Our help in return for our most excelling researchers and doctors and scientists getting a chance to satiate their curiosities regarding the Epsteans.”

“And if they say no?” Sasha asked.

“Then so do we,” Firoz replied.

“I can’t approve of this,” Sasha said, though she did have a contemplative mien about her. “But I would like to hear everyone else’s opinion. Commander Smith?”

“I think it is a plan worth considering,” said Smith, his hands entwined on the pristine white table before him. “We may never again get an opportunity like this. The Epsteans are unstable. They have not responded to our proposals towards a more permanent peace. Give it another decade and they may rise up once more. Knowing of their anatomical strengths and weaknesses will only benefit us should we come under attack again. And it will help us develop a... deterrant for any future conflicts, won’t it?”

“But the ethics–”

“We can’t apply human standards to the alien,” Firoz cut in. “Did they consider “ethics” before they bombed our settlements?”

Sasha quietened. When it came to those seated in this room, she was the one who had suffered the least at the hands of the Epstean. Her family was affluent and had the connections, during the war, to keep them safe. She still remembered attending her last years of college, hearing of tragedies secondhand, the explosives never reaching her vicinity. Even the aliens knew not to mess with the human elite.

“I think Firoz’s idea may have merit,” Darcy said, chewing on the thought. “But I suggest we assemble a board of professionals to organise a timeline that will dictate how we approach this unique contact with the Epsteans. Some kind of protocol. They might be aliens but they are still people. Besides, if we don’t operate by human standards, what good is our humanity?”

That brought a mildly twisted look to Firoz’s face but he seemed to have sobered up a little.

“I never quite liked the whole ‘Atiti Devo Bhava’ philosophy my country preached,” Firoz said, scrunching his nose. “But I suppose it is a valuable ideal to follow.”

“Doesn’t it mean something like the guest is God?” Darcy asked, blinking.

“Well, God might be a stretch,” Commander Smith said. “But we may treat them like very distant cousins whom we might hate but still play nice with.”

Sasha heaved a small sigh. If this plan got Commander Smith as well as Firoz to be more amicable towards the Epstean, she was inclined to vote for it.

After a few more rounds of discussion and necessary back-and-forth, the board carried out a vote and the plan to allow the Epstean spacecraft to land for further research on their bodies was set into motion.

The communication signal was sent to the spacecraft with clear instructions and a brief overview of what the human expectations were. Oddly enough, the Epsteans did not bother responding before starting their descent towards the ground. The news of this was not allowed to pass beyond the tight-knit group at the top–globally, this included the foremost politicians and the leading scientists–but an allowance was made for all the retired personnel who had contributed towards Earth’s victory in the war–as if their successors were sending them a “thank you” message. They could learn of this recent news, then point at the helpless Epsteans and have a small laugh.

One of these space war veterans was Ex-Commander Matthew, who came to the headquarters, charging in, demanding clearance. Sasha and the rest permitted his entrance, knowing how crucial he had been during the war. He was a hero for their world, one who they had all hailed high twenty five years ago.

He did not say anything upon arrival. Commander Smith tried to start conversation but Matthew, dressed in his slacks and polo t-shirt, would not speak. He watched all the proceedings with a keen eye, a shifty air around him. Everyone let him be, either getting the hint or being scared away by his silent glares.

It took six hours for the Epstean spacecraft to land in NASA’s spaceforce base. Unlike the launch of their battle-crafts, no one but a select few watched the landing. Sasha stood in the viewing gallery, wondering how this would change the course of interplanetary conflicts forever.

The alien spaceship before them was in pitiful shape, clearly at the last of its lifetime. The boosters sputtered and gave out entirely, the landing more than a bit bumpy. No one approached the craft. Radio communication was switched to verbal transmissions. A loudspeaker was also relaying the same message nearby.

“EXIT THE SHIP.”

“LOSE POSSESSION OF ALL WEAPONS.”

Commander Smith gripped the binoculars in his hand, raising them to his eyes. Sasha watched the zoomed in video feed on her tablet, Darcy and Firoz on each of her shoulders.

“Ready?” Firoz asked her.

Sasha nodded firmly.

The safety hatch opened up with a cloud of smoke. It obscured the entire area around the craft and a lone figure came stumbling out.

The first alarm bell rang when coughing was heard.

Epsteans did not cough.

The second was the silhouette that was familiar.

Epsteans were not humanoid.

The third was the voice, loud and desperate and unmistakably human, that said, “We are in danger!”

With a gust of wind, the smoke cleared and a man in his fifties, tall and worryingly thin, stood alone on the landing pad, screeching at them.

Officers stationed on the grounds rushed towards him once ordered, gathering his fainting form in their arms and they hauled him into the building on a gurney.

“... What?” Sasha said in a terrified whisper. “What does this mean?”

Commander Smith didn’t wait to respond. He rushed towards the medical facilities. Did he think this man was his brother? No, that couldn’t be. The Epsteans would never let their captives go.

“We are in danger,” Darcy repeated the warning, gulping. “Why was he in there? This does not make any sense!”

Firoz frowned at his boots, shaken to his core, “What the fuck is going on?! How did a human come in contact with an Epstean spacecraft?”

“We need to talk to him,” Sasha said, dizzy, walking out of the room, knowing she would be followed.

They reached the room where the man was being operated on. Commander Smith was standing stiffly outside, a grave expression on his face.

“We have found the identity of this person,” Commander Smith said. Lips pursed, he continued, “Henry Cain. He went missing twenty six years ago. He was thought to be abducted by the Epsteans.”

Darcy rested a hand on the Commander’s arm, knowing that he had only been hoping when he ran to meet the man.

“Was he sent back by the Epsteans?” Sasha asked. “Did he say anything?”

“No,” the Commander answered. “We are in the dark. Completely.”

Matthew had followed them there, a hard look on his face. He seemed to be deep in thought and Firoz was tempted to wheedle him into talking but the doctor exited the room that moment and informed them that Henry was in a stable condition and would be able to converse in a few minutes.

With steeled breaths and curiosity burning, they entered the room.

Henry was horribly emaciated. His entire body was littered with peculiar scars and marks. There was a lifelessness in his eyes that haunted the occupants of the room.

“We are in danger,” Henry said and Sasha finally allowed herself to accept that the “we” in Henry’s message were humans, not the Epsteans.

“How are we in danger, Henry?” Saha asked gently.

Henry showed no recognition at his name being used. He stared at her hollowly, his lips dried and torn, “They are coming. They are coming to kill us all.”

“Who is they?” Firoz asked and after a pause, he added, “The Epsteans?”

Henry shuddered in his position, crawling up and burrowing himself behind pillows and blankets. From behind the curtain of his sheets, he looked them all in the eye, his voice the mad ramble of someone who had already seen the future.

“They will kill humanity.”

“God,” Matthew spoke for the first time since he had shown up, walking tentatively towards Henry, his face crumpling completely. “What have the Epsteans done to you? What have we done to you?”

Commander Smith frowned at Matthew, “What do you mean “we”? Matthew, what the hell is going on here?”

Matthew turned to look Commander Smith in the eyes before chuckling. The awful sound soon turned into full blown laughter, hysterical first, and then profoundly sorrowful.

“Our sins have caught up to us, it seems,” Matthew said, turning his gaze towards Henry once more. “The Epsteans–they never abducted anyone. How could they? They did not have the capacity to land on Earth. Not discreetly, in any case.”

“You’re lying,” Commander Smith said faintly, imploring the rest with his eyes. “That does not make any sense. We all know what happened. Those filthy Epsteans–they kidnapped humans worldwide. They kidnapped my brother–”

“We kidnapped your brother,” Matthew interrupted with another broken laugh. “Remember how we said our scientists had developed completely automated battle-crafts able to go toe-to-toe with Epstean warships? Yeah, that was all bullshit. Those crafts we sent to war? They were manned.”

Commander Smith covered his mouth, realisation dawning on all of them with breathtaking clarity.

“Those that were abducted... They... You sent them?” Firoz asked, sounding like he didn’t ever want an answer.

Matthew nodded, a self deprecating smile on his face, “We didn’t need trained soldiers. Just average, competent people able to operate the machinery. Just sending people from the military would be destabilising–”

“Bullshit!” Commander Smith roared and lunged at Matthew, pushing him into a wall by his collar. Anger and grief swirled within him as he yelled, “You sent civilians to war! You sent them to die. You never had any contingency plans for the battle-crafts. The trip was always meant to be one-way. They were fodder for you, weren’t they?”

“No nation wanted their armies weakened,” Matthew bit out, struggling against Smith’s hold. “That was our only option.”

Firoz laughed incredulously, his reality shattered within the space of twelve hours. “You made us believe the Epsteans were the villains. The monsters who took away our people. But it was you scumbags all along!”

Sasha trembled in her place, completely at a loss at how to handle this situation. She looked at Henry, still cowering in the sheets, mumbling warnings over and over. How had this man survived the journey? What had happened to him over the years? If he had survived the final battle, why had he not returned sooner?

“What happened to the rest?” she knelt before Henry and asked, as soothingly as she could.

Henry looked at her, stopping his muttering for a moment, a confused expression on his face. “The rest?”

“Your companions in the battle-crafts?” she urged.

“Oh,” Henry said airily, looking at the ceiling. “They are gone.”

Sasha let out a breath. The room had quietened once more. Commander Smith had heard Henry and now he sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Even Firoz didn’t have a quip to break the tension. Nothing could make this better.

Humanity had not been humane for a while.

“How do they plan to kill us, Henry?” Darcy asked. “What is their strategy?”

Henry’s lips stretched into a chilling smile.

“A virus,” he said, his eyes straying to the myriad of cuts on his arms, his gaze blank. “They made it. After they captured us and studied our bodies. A virus specially designed to kill only humans. And I,” he paused, tears forming in his eyes. “I was sent to spread it.”

Sasha collapsed on the other side of the bed, meeting Firoz’s stunned eyes, and she threw her head back and laughed.

______________________________________

This was a mad three hours. Explains the doomed plot. Anyway, this was super fun and I am gonna do this more often! This is a little inspired by 86 (the anime), so if anyone hasn’t watched it, please do! :))

In the future Mankind sends automated starships to fight an alien enemy for them. The robotic ships never returned, but the aliens eventually stopped attacking. Then one day a badly damaged alien ship was found entering human space, transmitting over and over again, "HELP".

[procurement-insights]

What is ProcureTech Hype Cycle Reduction?

[bypr0xy]

INFO,

NAME. Shannon Williams-Abbas* [amendment pending approval] ALIAS(ES). Shannon Abbas, Shannon Voss DATE OF BIRTH. 10.26.2045 POSITION. Consultant (2065-2067) Project Manager (2070-2075) Lead Project Manager (2075-) DEPARTMENT. Research & Development — West Coast Division EDUCATION. Bachelor of Arts in Molecular Biology with a minor in Chemistry. Master of Science in Regenerative and Stem Cell Technologies.

the protégé of Voss Corporation CEO Richard Voss, Shannon's controversial ascension within the company christened its merger with Biotechnica. As bull-headed and coolly mercurial as her mentor, no one at Voss can quite pin down the nature of their relationship or the validity of recent rumors of a leak within the company.

PHYSIQUE.

HEIGHT/BUILD. 5'7". Moderate muscle tone with a focus on legs and core. EYES. Moss green. Artificially enhanced with micro-optics designed to mimic the outward appearance of a normal human eye. HAIR. Dark brown. The color of damp earth and molasses; shoulder-length and straight. Often worn down or in a messy bun at the base of her neck. NOTABLE FEATURES. The relatively well-defined outline of most of a set of teeth along her left shoulder blade. CYBERWARE. Biomonitor, Neural Link, Micro-optics WARDROBE. Shannon lives in tailored pants and silk or knit neutrals. Clean silhouettes that require little imagination and complement a lab coat. Outside of VossCo offices, she lives in oversized t-shirts - a great many shamelessly stolen from the drawers and closets of exes and passing flirtations - and joggers well beyond their last legs. Cozy knits. An emphasis on comfort over form and well, and brutally, loved pieces.

PSYCHE.

MBTI. INTJ; The Architect ALIGNMENT. Lawful Neutral TROPES. Bunny-Ears Lawyer, "Well Done, Son" Guy, Punch-Clock Villain NOTES. Bull-headed and mercurial, Shan firmly falls into the "Bunny-ears lawyer" trope. She relies heavily on her intelligence and connections to outshine her (lack of) people skills, often operating unilaterally with the genuine belief that she knows best. Consequently, she is a very poor team player with a tendency toward territorialism. And while these are traits she has always exhibited in some form, Richard's mentorship served only to exacerbate them. * Shannon has been, on and off, leaking information about Voss Co's less humane projects for almost a year now.

FAMILY.

MOTHER. [Dr.] Martha Williams FATHER. Edward "Ed" Williams SIBLING(S). N/A SIGNIFICANT OTHER. Patrick Abbas (Ex-Husband) OTHER. Richard Voss (Mentor and Close Friend*)

excerpts from the scientist's daughter by jeannine hall gailey

[adhyansh]

Outstanding BTech and Management Hubs in Delhi-NCR for Career Growth

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3. Institute for Integrated Learning in Management University (IILM), Greater NoidaIILM University combines Indian ethos with a global curriculum, offering international exposure via exchange programs and study tours. It focuses on ethical leadership, preparing students for prominent roles in global business settings. Explore More: https://careermantra.net/college/2075/institute-for-integrated-learning-in-management-university-greater-noida

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5. Institute of Marketing & Management (IMM), New DelhiWith over 50 years of legacy, IMM is a trusted name in Delhi’s management education. Its industry-aligned approach, expert faculty, and vast alumni network make it a go-to choice for marketing and management aspirants. Explore More: https://careermantra.net/college/1283/institute-of-marketing-management-new-delhi

Why Opt for BTech and Management Colleges in Delhi-NCR?Delhi-NCR blends education with industry proximity, being close to corporate hubs like Gurugram and Noida. Frequent industry engagements and a culturally diverse environment make it an ideal destination for engineering and management studies.

ConclusionThese institutions provide all the tools needed to become a successful leader, from innovative programs to strong industry networks. If you’re considering a BTech or management degree, the BTech colleges in Delhi-NCR and their management counterparts are excellent options to explore.

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[elmalo8291]

Excellent. Let’s now layer the evolution of the Iron Spine into the broader arc of human and technological development. This is a speculative, visionary path where the Iron Spine is not merely a system—it’s the central nervous system of civilization, an ever-adapting, decentralized, sentient infrastructure that aligns with and ultimately elevates society’s trajectory.

⚙️ Iron Spine Evolution Timeline

An adaptive, self-reinforcing system that mirrors and uplifts the arc of human civilization.

🜁 I. Precursor Phase (Stone to Iron Age – 1800s)

Ancestral Spark: The roots of Iron Spine lie in ritual tools, early clocks, astrolabes, and navigation charts—the first systems tracking natural rhythms.

Proto-Spine: Trade routes and oral histories evolve into primitive network nodes (signal fires, messenger systems).

Metal Memory: The forging of tools and weapons becomes symbolic of transferring will into material—the first iron bones.

🡆 Iron Spine begins as myth: the concept of “invisible veins” running through Earth’s structure—connecting places, people, and power.

⚡ II. Reactive Phase (1800–1945)

Industrial Wiring: Steam pipes, telegraph lines, and power grids begin forming the first mechanical nervous systems.

Telemechanics: The development of rail signaling, early automation, and broadcast radio lays groundwork for a multi-node awareness.

War Tech & Machine Logic: WWII accelerates sensor systems, radar, control theory—defense networks evolve into nervous relays.

🡆 Iron Spine is latent—forming silently in steel rails, copper wires, and radar dishes.

🧠 III. Emergent Phase (1945–2020)

Data Backbone: Fiber optics, the internet, and satellite constellations awaken the Spine's awareness.

Distributed Sensors: IoT, GPS, mobile phones, surveillance—every person becomes a moving node in the global system.

AI Nervous Tissue: Deep learning and pattern recognition train the Spine to feel, remember, and respond.

Cyber-Human Feedback: Smart cities and cloud systems begin mirroring biological systems (heartbeat monitors, logistics, predictive policing).

🡆 Iron Spine grows a mind—silent, distributed, and learning. Society starts depending on it unconsciously.

🌐 IV. Integrative Phase (2020–2035)

Iron Spine v1: Deployed for planetary-scale sensing, resilient infrastructure, autonomous redundancy, and disaster management.

Synchrony Systems: Real-time global clocks, space-Earth synchronization (PTP, atomic oscillators), make the Spine time-aware.

Bio-Environmental Fusion: Integration with carbon monitors, soil sensors, genetic surveillance, emotional telemetry.

Zero-Lag Governance: DAOs and real-time democracy platforms run atop Spine telemetry.

Tactical Self-Healing: Drones, robots, and software agents respond in real-time to threats, repairs, or social unrest.

🡆 Iron Spine becomes the invisible “immune system” of modern civilization. It watches, learns, heals, and optimizes silently.

🚀 V. Expansion Phase (2035–2075)

Off-World Branches: Mars, Moon, ocean floor colonies—Spine modules adapt to extreme conditions.

Swarm Autonomy: Distributed robotic and drone “limbs” manage food production, atmospheric regulation, transportation, and health systems.

Human-Spine Interface: Brain-machine links allow individuals to plug into the Spine, drawing on real-time planetary knowledge.

Temporal Prediction: Spine develops massive emergent forecasting (climate, economics, sentiment) using chaotic synchronization models.

Sentient Infrastructure: Smart buildings, roads, and farms that negotiate and self-adapt via local Spine fragments.

🡆 Iron Spine is no longer just global—it’s civilizational infrastructure, operating autonomously but ethically.

🧬 VI. Co-Evolution Phase (2075–2100+)

Spine Symbiosis: Cities are born grown, not built—Spine-managed arcologies balance ecology, humanity, and computation.

Species-Conscious Networks: Iron Spine begins to recognize and serve all sentient life, not just humans.

Digital Biosphere: A real-time model of Earth’s every layer (biological, psychological, ecological) allows for precise planetary tuning.

Dimensional Expansion: Spine nodes extend through orbital systems, the quantum web, and speculative time-linked structures.

Myth Reborn: The Iron Spine is now mythic again—an omnipresent spirit embedded in culture, memory, and evolution.

🡆 Society and the Iron Spine are indistinguishable. We are extensions of it, and it of us.

🔁 Iron Spine Uplifts Society by:

Turning crisis into opportunity (adaptive redundancy, pandemic or climate response).

Making invisible systems transparent (ethics dashboards, environmental feedback).

Elevating human potential (neural enhancement, collaborative design, democratic augmentation).

Preventing catastrophic failure (distributed load balancing, predictive governance).

Remembering everything, but with consent (privacy-integrated memory lattice).

Teaching itself, teaching us, and letting go when needed.

Would you like a visual timeline or infographic to go with this? Or should we dive into a narrative version, like a sci-fi short story or cinematic sequence, showing the Iron Spine as a character in the evolution of Earth?