Hi!! I've been wanting to make this for myself and I assumed it would help some others too- This is the QB College Partners sorted by acceptance rate, sorted lowest to highest. For consistency, I'm using statistics from US News. Let me know if this helped in your ranking endeavors!
Caltech: 4% Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT): 4% Princeton University: 4% Stanford University: 4% Yale University: 5% Brown University: 6% Columbia University: 6% Dartmouth College: 6% Duke University: 6% University of Chicago: 6% University of Pennsylvania: 6% Northwestern University: 7% Pomona College: 7% Vanderbilt University: 7% John Hopkins University: 8% Swarthmore College: 8% Amherst College: 9% Bowdoin College: 9% Colby College: 9% Rice University: 9% Williams College: 9% Barnard College: 11% Claremont McKenna College: 11% Grinnell College: 11% Tufts University: 11% Emory University: 13% Middlebury College: 13% Washington University in St. Louis: 13% University of Southern California (USC): 13% Colorado College: 14% Hamilton College: 14% University of Notre Dame: 15% Wellesley College: 16% Colgate University: 17% Carleton College: 18% Davidson College: 18% Haverford College: 18% Boston College: 19% Boston University: 19% Washington and Lee University (W&L): 19% Wesleyan University: 19% Vassar College: 20% University of Virginia: 21% Denison University: 28% Case Western Reserve University: 30% Scripps College: 30% Smith College: 30% Macalester College: 31% Oberlin College: 34% College of the Holy Cross: 43%
PS Please take multiple multiple factors into account when ranking colleges, not just admission rate and statistics! Look into the overall community, location, and majors they offer, even if you plan to only use undergrad to pursue graduate school later on. Best of luck to us all!

First Chapter Here
Previous Chapter Here
My other story, Going Native Here
Hey look, a chapter released in a somewhat reasonable timeframe! As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!
*****
Faye hadn’t noticed right away that Meechie missed her regular stop. The pair had been standing in relative silence, Faye’s thoughts drifting off to debate whether or not she would go to the next movie night at the Library, and it was several stops before she realized that she hadn’t said goodbye to the Rakiri. It was in a bit of a brain fog that Faye half-turned, figuring she should hurry and say it now before Meechie got too far away, but instead she jerked her head to find the brown-furred woman staring directly at her.
“I am still here,” Meechie said quietly, a small smile causing the fur on her cheeks to bristle.
“You are,” Faye agreed. “I thought I missed seeing you off.”
“I am accompanying you to the library,” the young woman declared. Faye tried not to read too much into vocal cues, especially when she had little-to-no experience with the species in question, but there still seemed to be something nervous in Meechie’s voice. Nervous and pleading.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Faye said cautiously. “And I definitely don’t need someone making a decision like that for me.”
That seemed to strike a nerve. Meechie slunk back as if hit, causing some grumbles from the other passengers. The Rakiri took a moment to smooth out the fur on her face with one hand before replying.
“I did not express myself well. I wished to visit a library after work, and as you work at one I thought it would be nice to travel alongside you.” Meechie’s eyes lowered. “I should not have presumed.”
As if on cue, the bus slowed to its next stop and Meechie moved to leave. It would put the furry young woman at a corporate business park near absolutely nothing of interest. Faye shot out a hand and grabbed Meechie by the shoulder. The Rakiri froze mid-step as if turned to stone.
“Don’t!” She tugged gently and Meechie shifted back to Faye’s side. “No need to run off. Sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“I…” Meechie seemed to be glancing everywhere except at Faye. “It’s alright?”
God damn was this poor girl shy. “Yes, you can ride to the library with me. I just wish you had mentioned it earlier; we don’t have a lot of time to talk shop now.” Faye considered Meechie again, clothes that looked brand new and not a speck of grease to be seen. “Is that why you got all dressed up?”
Meechie nodded, still keeping her eyes somewhere to the left of Faye’s face. “I normally go straight home, but it wouldn’t do to soil any of the books.”
“The books and I both appreciate it.” That earned Faye a smile, at least. “What are you looking for? I didn’t take you for much of a reader.”
“I like adventure stories,” Meechie replied.
“Hmm…” Faye tapped a fingertip to her lips as she thought. “Historical? Big battles?”
“The fighting isn’t what’s important.” Meechie stopped, eyes drawn to the motion of Faye’s finger, and she self-consciously brought her hands back down to her sides. “It is more about the people the hero meets on his travels.”
His travels?
The pronoun threw Faye for a bit of a loop; she was so used to hearing the feminine form used as the general that it stood out. It only took a moment for her to understand. Faye grinned.
“Romantic stories?” She asked the question in a faux whisper, slightly teasing, and Meechie immediately went wide-eyed. Her freshly-cleaned fur puffed up in what could only be panic. Faye reached over and gave Meechie a couple quick pats on the shoulder before leaning in.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
—
“...should have what you’re looking for. I’m going to be upstairs at Archives, but the help desk can find what you’re looking for if you get lost. And remember, no judgment.”
Mahnti glanced across the lobby more out of instinct than anything else. Hearing Faye’s voice simply drew his attention, especially considering he didn’t think her shift had started yet. His eyes quickly picked her out as Faye turned away from the entrance and towards the hall that led towards the employee lounge. He also took note of who she had been talking to.
Rakiri weren’t uncommon in University City, but the way this one stood in place, staring at Faye’s back with an unnerving intensity, was setting off alarms all down Mahnti’s rather sizeable spine. He began to make his way on an intercept course towards Faye, trying to imprint the furry girl’s look into his memory just in case. Brand new clothing, still showing the creases of packaging. Not quite the right fit for the woman’s frame, and she moved like she was profoundly uncomfortable in them. Dark brown fur that seemed to puff up as she stared at Faye, then flattened as she noticed Mahnti watching her.
The Senthe flared his hood slightly, emphasizing his size instinctively as he narrowed his eyes. The Rakiri stared at him unblinking for a moment, then turned and wandered off towards the main stacks. It only took another moment for him to catch up to Faye.
“Who was that?”
Faye jerked slightly, then stopped and turned with a small smile decorating her lips. “Good morning to you too.”
“Yeah, yeah, good morning and all that. Was that your bus Rakiri?”
Faye nodded, the smile fading as she picked up on Mahnti’s unease. “Yeah. Why, do you know her?”
“No, nothing like that.” Mahnti sighed. He didn’t want to cause problems, but he also had some serious bad vibes going. “She was just standing there staring at you. It was pretty creepy.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed her doing that a lot. I think it might be a Rakiri thing? Meechie seems to have latched on for whatever reason.” Faye shrugged. “I don’t think she has any friends.”
“I’m not surprised if that’s her way of making them. She seriously looked like she was about to attack you or something.”
“Doesn’t know anybody, trying to figure out how to socialize with people…” Faye shrugged again, adding a lopsided smile. “I can relate. She seems harmless enough, even helped protect me the other day.”
Mahnti slumped a little. “I suppose. I just… be careful, okay? I don’t want to have to frame another dent in a wall.”
He also didn’t want to have to worry about Faye bleeding out in some dark corner somewhere. She could outrun a Shil, but a Rakiri with ill intentions would be a far more dangerous proposition.
“After what happened before, I’m not taking chances.” Faye patted the side of her purse conspiratorially and Mahnti could see the outline of a cylinder. It seemed to be a fair bit larger than the grinshaw spray he carried in a vest pocket, but that could have just been a trick of the bag it was in. Regardless, he felt a little better knowing she had something. It wasn’t until he saw the fear she was tucking down behind her smile that he suddenly realized just how vulnerable Faye must feel.
She was smaller and weaker than a Shil’vati, easy to pick out of a crowd and easier to pick on, and with the way she dressed and styled herself Faye really was priming the pump for trouble. A random attack at her place of work had nearly killed her and, less than a week later, here she was trying to take it in stride. All while knowing that the chance of it happening again was approaching certainty.
“Come on,” Mahnti said quietly. He took one of Faye’s hands and pulled her deeper into the hallway, away from prying eyes and towards the break room. He almost told her that she was safe here, but that was a lie. Nowhere was safe if you stood out, and he knew that better than anyone.
–
Ib’aest Jamia, chronic layabout and day manager at the Jamia Library, hoped he didn’t look too guilty when Faye’s face poked through his office doorway and interrupted the scandal rag he was reading on his pad. He slipped his pad face-down into his desk drawer in a single smooth motion and slapped on his second-best friendly but not flirtatious smile.
“Hey Ibby.” Faye seemed suddenly nervous herself, glancing around the room as if to ensure that it was just him in his office. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Is it work related?” Faye shook her head in the negative. “Then of course! Come on in and shut the door.”
Faye followed his lead, latching the door and stepping gracefully to the chair he indicated on the other side of his desk. It was odd, watching the way she moved. Too graceful for most women he knew, but still nervous. Faye sometimes seemed to approach the world as if everything was made of glass. Or perhaps that she was.
Ibby looked the girl up and down, trying for a “kind older friend” vibe. The Human was dressed simply in one of the outfits she seemed to have a knack for throwing together. He knew he had seen at least some of it before, the tights and the skirt at least, but the overall effect was new to him. She struck such an odd balance, clearly a woman but throwing off such a distractingly masculine vibe. In this one person Ibby had a real empirical example of the strange dichotomy that made Humanity so interesting. That said, there was really only one reason for a young woman to ask to speak to an older man in private. At least, only one he figured Faye would be up for.
“Boy troubles?”
Faye blinked at Ibby, confused for a moment. “Kind of, yeah. I guess you could call it that.”
Ibby ran through the list in his head. Mahnti was the obvious first choice, but the way that pair seemed to be getting along he didn’t think there would be any trouble he’d have to intervene with. Besides, the Senthe had said they weren’t doing the perpendicular poke. At least not yet. Faye also knew Tevor, but Ibby had yet to see anyone aside from Sade who could pull that poor kid out of his shell. Maybe Iora over in Digital Media. Did Faye even know Iora?
“Have you ever been to any fancy dress parties?”
Ibby’s racing mind slammed into a drift, changed gears, and nearly ran headlong into the answer. “You’re going on a date with that reporter!”
“It’s NOT a date. I have gone to great lengths to make that clear to both of us.” Faye’s voice was firm. The girl was apparently a better liar than Ibby thought. “He invited me out to go see a play being performed in English at a fancy theater.” Faye pulled out her pad and showed Ibby a copy of the playbill.
“Ooh, the Icosahedral Garden. That’s a great venue.” Ibby considered. “I assume he’s dragging you out to dinner first?”
“I guess? I didn’t really think that far ahead. I just realized that I have no idea what’s culturally acceptable to wear to an event like this.” Faye blushed prettily. “I don’t want to show up in a ball gown and have it turn out to be more of a spikes and corpse paint thing.”
“I… what?”
“Nevermind. Just making a joke.” Faye shrugged, eyes drooping as her expression soured. “It seems like I make a scene no matter where I go. It would be nice to blend in for a change.”
Fat chance of that, Ibby thought. Still, he could be of some help. “What would you say to another shopping excursion? I wouldn’t mind helping you out.”
Faye nodded, relief washing over her. “I would appreciate that. I have an errand to run tonight and plans for tomorrow, but how about the day after? I’m free all day and that will still give me plenty of time before the show.”
“It’s a…” Don’t say date, you idiot. Poor girl is nervous enough as it is. “..plan. Truth be told, it’ll be nice to show you the sights properly. Most of your new friends seem to be more of the indoor sort.”
Faye snorted back a laugh. “Ain’t that the truth.”
–
…Really?
Faye tilted her head to one side just to give her eyeroll a running start. The sign hanging above the shop door was written in a rounded style made to emulate the shape of English letters despite being Shil’vati script. Through the window she could see an assortment of Human snacks, assorted tchotchkes that somehow made her feel victimized on behalf of every race and culture involved, and an embarrassingly large amount of soft-core pornography.
"Chad Nova’s Human Emporium" was probably the single cringiest store that Faye had ever seen, and she distinctly remembered hanging out at the mall back when you could get jeans with pockets big enough to hold a CD player. It didn’t help that, while Faye was standing in the mall concourse staring at the store, the clerk inside was staring right back. That girl seemed to consider blinking an afterthought.
After a moment to square her shoulders and pat the side pocket on her purse reassuringly, Faye entered the store. It was a riot of mismatched goods, poorly made display swords and replica firearms tucked alongside “authentic” Polynesian nose flutes and decks of playing cards. After accidentally locking eyes with what she was fairly certain was an Abraham Lincoln body pillow, she decided to simply accept that this was what her species boiled down to.
“Can I help you, miss?” The voice was high and cracked around the edges. Faye turned to look at the clerk, a Shil’vati girl barely out of school with a face still lightly dusted with acne. The girl seemed to be about ten seconds from exploding in excitement.
“Actually, yeah. I was wondering if you do special orders.” Faye pulled out her pad and started tapping at the screen. “I brought some sundries when I moved out here and I don't know what I’m going to do when I run out.”
“Moved, like from Earth?” Make it five seconds.
“Yes, and to answer your next question, yes, I’m a Human. Nobody decided to bleach a Helkam or anything like that.”
Four… three… two…
The Shil girl turned away and ran to the back of the store, sliding to a stop in front of a rather tacky looking beaded curtain hanging next to an “Employees Only” sign. She shoved her head through the beads.
“MOOOOOOOOOOM!!! HUMAN!!”
Faye took a moment to collect herself. She glanced around, cataloging the strange array of goods. There were some things that clearly fell into similar themes, like the large snack section or the graphic novels (emphasis on graphic), but much of the place was simply a cacophony of crap. She noticed a stuffed doll of the Statue of Liberty fallen over into a container of brightly colored, thumb-sized plastic crucifixes. All the little Jesuses seemed to be staring in mute, cross-eyed horror at the plushie green giant.
“Oh! It’s you!”
Faye turned away from the plastic Jesusai and saw that the young Shil’vati clerk was now accompanied by another woman. Definitely not old enough to be the clerk’s biological mom, but with how things tended to go with Shil families and how long lifespans could get it wasn’t the most surprising. If the clerk was a Human seventeen, she’d put this new one at twenty three or twenty four.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Faye replied to the stranger with a shrug.
“We saw you on the news, but…” the young woman trailed off, her black and gold eyes focused on the still-fading bruises on Faye’s face.
“Lost a fight,” she said curtly. Anything to move this along. “Some friends of mine recommended this place to get Human snacks, and I figured if you’re getting regular imports you might be able to get me some other stuff.”
“..Ah. Oh! Yes!” The woman blinked, then looked at her daughter. “Can you go grab my order book?” Turning back to Faye, she continued, “What sort of things did you need? We have quite a collection here.”
“You certainly do.” Faye tried to focus on the woman, but her eyes kept getting drawn off to the side. An anime-style wall scroll of a mostly-naked, hugely muscled brown-skinned man was staring at her, and she couldn’t place who it was supposed to be. Bob Sapp maybe?
“Mostly I was thinking about makeup, maybe some comfort food. Stuff you probably don’t stock but I can’t afford to import on my own.”
The young woman nodded, her dark hair bouncing. “I’m sure we can work something out. You’re lucky; most Human stores are part of a chain, but we’re independent. We’re not confined to ordering from just one catalog.”
As if she was just waiting for her cue, the Shil kid arrived and plopped an oversized binder into her mom’s open arms. She placed it on a table and flipped it open with a thump.
It was like someone tried to print the Internet. The woman quickly fingered her way through hard-copy recreations of digital storefronts while Faye groaned inwardly. She liked paper more than most but this just seemed so awkward. An alien luddite.
“My brother-in-law’s cousin-in-law works on Earth at one of those new superconductor factories. They ship a lot of materials here, so I was able to negotiate a good deal to take up their extra mass allotment for cheap.” The woman stopped on a page, then pointed. “Something like this?”
Faye leaned over the book and looked. It was the digital storefront of one of those corner store and pharmacy chains that sells makeup on top of everything else. Not exactly top of the line, but better than the dollar store.
“Perfect.” Faye started noting individual things she’d like and the woman dutifully started marking things down on a scrap of paper. The big items on Faye’s shopping list were more foundation and concealer, but she picked out some blush, lipstick, and eyeliner pencils too; she was leery about trusting Shil makeup in general. It was hard enough to find brands that didn’t make her skin break out into an oily mess without getting alien biochemistry involved.
“We can order whatever you like, but the fewer stores you have to pick from the better. I would hate for our buyer to get pissy because she has to run too many errands on the hot guy planet.” The clerk paused for an eye roll. “Also, keep in mind that these prices aren’t what you’ll pay; there will be an additional convenience fee.”
Faye nodded. “Of course. What are you thinking?”
“Hmm…” The woman looked Faye up and down in a way that suddenly made her feel a lot smaller and more vulnerable. While this stranger wasn’t particularly tall for a Shil, that still made for a five or six inch height difference. “You are pretty cute…”
“Dad said no more cute discounts!” Faye’s attention was drawn to the younger girl, who had been watching the whole exchange from a few steps back. The darkening purple blush on her face matched Faye’s own red one.
“You’re no fun!” The Shil mock glared at her (step?)daughter, then turned back to Faye. “Seriously, though, as long as the mass and volume are small the cost to get this sort of thing here isn’t too bad. Say twenty percent. It'll be more if you want anything big or our buyer has to go to a specialty store, but we can do that too. It will still be a lot cheaper than trying to import anything yourself.”
“Twenty percent isn’t bad.” It was a great deal, honestly. Faye doubted they’d be doing much more than breaking even on her little orders. She closed her eyes for a second, clearing her mind. She could feel the spray canister in her bag, pressing against the inside of her arm. Its presence was reassuring. “Can I add an absolutely no flirting policy to our agreement?”
The woman nodded, suddenly looking abashed. “Sorry, I forgot Human women aren’t normally into other girls. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Whether or not Faye was into girls was irrelevant, but she wasn’t about to get into an argument about it. Instead, she turned a few pages back and forth, adding a few more odds and ends to the list that she hadn’t been able to find in University City. Much of the list consisted of condiments and seasonings that might help make the Shil instant meals Faye had been purchasing a little more palatable.
By the time they were done, Faye had an order totaling a couple hundred credits and a promise that she would have her goods in three to four weeks. Before she left she made a point of stocking up on junk food and picked up a few English-language graphic novels that looked interesting. She rounded out the visit with a couple decks of playing cards. Tomorrow was game night, after all. She should be at least somewhat prepared.
****
Previous Next
This is a fanfic that takes place in the “Between Worlds” universe (aka Sexy Space Babes), created and owned by u/BlueFishcake. No ownership of the settings or core concepts is expressed or implied by myself.
This is for fun. Can’t you just have fun?

Looking to apply for Chinese language program in a Chinese university this Autumn. I may be overthinking but I was wondering whether well known universities are more likely to accept you since they are big and popular or less likely because they are big and popular? I'm currently sorting out which universities to apply to as well as how many applications to send in total. Not sure what amount is safe while also not spending too much in application fee.
At the same time I wonder what I should expect in terms of class size. Is it always gonna be something crazy like 20-30 no matter the university or would a smaller university possibly have a smaller class size and thus possibly be better in terms of learning Chinese.
Sent an application to Xi'an jiaotong liverpool university (XJTLU) who have offered me a place in their program. It's an English speaking university though so I'm not sure whether that would impact my learning. I'm sure it's not as ideal but when watching some of their YouTube videos I feel like neither students nor professors are that fluent in English anyway so their default language is probably still Chinese?
Besides XJTLU I've looked at Zhejiang University and Xiamen university. Zhejiang I just need to pay the application fee. For Xiamen university they want me to complete the physical examination record for foreigner. I've filled out the form didn't end up getting the different tests done so today I got my x-ray and 20. June I'll be going to get my ECG, HIV, Syphilis and Hepatitis tests.
Also how much is accommodation for universities usually? XJTLU seem to charge a daily rate and so does Zhejiang university but I could've sworn I saw 1000 RMB/year for both Zhejiang university and Xiamen university? It does seem like Xiamen university is 1000 RMB/year. If that is true then just 14 days in the other two universities will already add up to about 1000 RMB.

Looks like it might be time for a cast list refresher! So let me reintroduce the chummers!!!!
OP (c’est moi!)
Female, late 20s
Grad student
Perky emo girl with purple hair
Likes crass humor
Nerdy, petite, beard bait
Decker
​
Funky P. Beard (FPB)
Male, early 30s
Bona fide psycho piece of shit
Street Samurai
​
Mori
The GM
Male, early/mid 30s
Hypersexual kinky bastard
Likes exhibitionism, vomit, and illegal substances
Charismatic, cult-leader vibes
Very amusing, always nice to OP
The only person who seemed capable of getting FPB to behave
​
Axton
Male, late 20s
Grad student
Sexy, pleasant to be around
Has a sense of humor that meshes well with OP’s
Usually able to ignore FPB’s psycho behavior
The primary target of FPB’s jealousy
Rigger
​
Sage
Male, early/mis 30s
Assistant GM
Host of the gaming weekends
Typically level-headed, but losing patience with FPB
Skilled in martial arts
Mage
​
Athena
Female, early 30s
Sage’s girlfriend
Co-host of the gaming weekends
Increasingly intolerant of FPB
Petite, pretty, friendly... probably also beard bait
Shaman
​
Snorlax
Male, early 30s
The funny fat guy (NOT a neckbeard)
Easy-going, friendly, rarely directly involved in the weekend’s drama
Stoner
Adept
​
Chapter 5: The Lap of Luxury
We had been moving back and forth between the garage and the living room (it wasn’t the “War Room” until the gaming began) for the past hour or so. This was actually my favorite part of the weekend. I wasn’t exhausted yet, nobody was plastered yet, and I was genuinely getting to know FPB’s buddies. Snorlax told me about his former career as a semi-pro wrestler, and how an injury had forced him to start working as a mall cop. Athena and Sage were both pharmacy techs, and they were considering opening their own gaming shop. Mori was a paralegal for an LGBT law firm and ran a fairly lucrative fetish website on the side. Axton was going to grad school for social work and was the bass player for a classic rock cover band. Damn it, we had genuine common interests. Why couldn’t he have been a parolee or a gong farmer?
And I was able to chat comfortably with all the team members because FPB had taken to the master bathroom upstairs to get “re-ready.” Not only did he desperately need to change his “dew-covered” underpants, but he also needed to take a full shower (using Athena’s bathing products, of course). He would then spend nearly a full hour blow-drying, flat-ironing, and spiking his jet-black hair so that he emerged looking like some bizarre mash-up of Hagrid and Discount Tom Sandoval.
I’m also assuming that he manscaped, and I sincerely hoped he’d brought his own pink razors for this task. But as for his bushy behemoth of a beard? He took absolutely NO care of it. I never understood the statement he was trying to make by being fastidious AF with every aspect of personal grooming, save his defining feature. No matter. He was absent, and I was finally having fun! Alas, the fun wouldn’t last. The time for pre-game was approaching, so Sage and Athena went to the kitchen to arrange the shots.
Athena: How many do you want, OP?
Me: I think I’d better stick with two since I’ve already had a beer.
A freshly showered and finally dressed FPB turned to me, “Yeah, you need to stay sober.”
Oh, now that bullshit made me want to drink...
Me: Athena, make it three for me.
FPB shot me a menacing look.
Me: What? I’m not gonna get wasted off one extra shot.
FPB: I’m saving you from yourself. You could at least TRY to appreciate my chivalry.
Me: Right...
But then I had second thoughts about angering the already rage-prone beast. I didn’t want to ruin the evening for the other team members. And FPB’s temper tantrums definitely had the potential to ruin the evening for everyone in attendance.
Me: I’ll shoot two and just sip on the third one. Does that sound reasonable?
FPB shrugged.
Me: Come on! I feel like such a sissy compared to the rest of you.
FPB: Whose fault is that? You didn’t take advantage of your years and years and years of being a “student” to practice handling your liquor?
Me: No, mostly I studied. And when we partied, we did drugs. We didn’t drink. Not like this, anyway.
I was getting pretty mad, and I did NOT want to have a full-blown screaming match with FPB in front of everyone.
Me: Do you mind if I take five? This isn’t something we need to argue over. I really am trying to learn how to play, and to play the way YOUR TEAM plays. The guide books were no help at all.
FPB: If I catch you asking Mori for coke, so help me...
Me: I just need some air. That’s not code for anything untoward. I just want to go outside.
FPB: I’m coming with you.
Snorlax stepped in.
Snorlax: Bro. Just let her go outside. I’ll stand by the door and make sure Mori doesn’t follow her.
FPB: I don’t care about Mori! You make sure that dick-wipe Axton doesn’t follow her. I *know* he’s trying to bang her.
I could hear all this rancor on my way to the back door.
Me: Dude!!! Chill! I’m not going outside to get drugs. I’m not going outside to shag anybody. I just want five fucking minutes of peace!
Mori stood up. He was shirtless that night, wearing nothing but ultra-sheer light pink boxers that complemented the pink streaks in his bedazzled beard. But despite his wispy attire, the group still kowtowed to him.
Mori: I hereby grant OP *TEN* minutes of solitude on the back porch. FPB, you will use this time to meditate. Think about what it means to be kind to your significant other. Think about what it means to show empathy and acceptance. Think about what it means to enjoy the company of your fellow chummers.
I slipped outside and inhaled the pleasant dusk that was beginning to fill the air. And I found myself feeling indebted to Mori and wondering if this was some sort of cult indoctrination malarkey... or if he’d just known FPB longer than any of the rest of us and had learned how to effectively handle him. And then I decided that it didn’t matter. I finally had the peace and quiet I so desperately needed.
But how *did* FPB know that Axton was flirting with me? I thought we’d both been pretty covert about it. Uhhh... In front of FPB, at least. I decided that he didn’t actually know. He was constantly accusing male friends of “trying to bang me” when there was not even the slightest hint of attraction on anyone’s part. It was a numbers game. If you throw out hundreds of accusations, one might happen to stick. And then you can say, “I TOLD YOU SO.”
I often felt like an alternate universe version of Anne Boleyn, imprisoned by a skinny and even madder version of the famous king. FPB certainly fancied himself a regal figure, worthy of everyone’s fealty. Wait... was Henry VIII the OG neckbeard??? (note... I thought I had made an original observation here, but I came across a year-old post on ReddXReads from u/Raidan1084, so props to you for beating me to this observation!!!)
My unfocused mind ran amuck for a bit longer, and the ten minutes were almost up when I heard a quiet voice calling my name from around the side of the house.
I rounded the corner to answer.
It was Athena.
Athena: OP, I know it’s none of my business, but FPB is a douchebag. That girl who came to the door last night? She’s one of his hook-ups.
I laughed a little. “I know. He’s got loads of them... Hey, do you mind if I ask you a stupid question that I ask myself all the time?”
Athena: Sure.
Me: Why do you guys put up with his shit?
Athena: He and Mori have been best friends since before the team formed. He’s kind of a “package deal.” If we want to keep Mori as our GM, we have to accept FPB. And Mori does run a really fun campaign.
Me: So if he ever crosses a line with Mori, he’s out?
Athena: That’s what we’ve all been hoping for! But Mori’s insanely patient with FPB.
We sighed and returned inside.
FPB was sitting in sulky silence, staring at his polished Chelsea boots. I took a seat on the other side of the room, next to Mori.
Mori: You good?
I nodded.
Mori whispered, “You want some coke?”
Me: Shhhhhh!!! No, I don’t do that!
Mori mouthed, “Adderall?”
I smiled and mouthed, “Later.”
Mori stood. “Tonight, we are making a seating chart. There are six numbers on the floor. You will each draw a number from my underwear, and you will sit on the corresponding number. Is that clear?”
Everyone bellowed in unison, “YES, GAME MASTER.”
This was exciting! I had a decent chance of not having to sit by FPB that night! I was completely fed up with his constant criticism of my character sheets and his suggestions for future moves. He was messing me up more than he was helping.
Mori took a seat on a throw pillow, shoved 6 folded pieces of paper down the back of his boxers and called us up, one by one, to draw our numbers from his drawers.
Being the newbie, I was the last to draw.
Mori: Get all the way up in dat crack, OP.
I laughed and fished the paper out of Mori’s boxers.
FPB took a loud breath and fumed, “MORI, YOU FU...”
Sage put a hand on FPB’s chest, and said very sternly, “Take it down a notch.”
Mori: Tonight, we will find peace amongst ourselves and rain fire and terror on the mega-corporations! Are you with me???”
“WE’RE WITH YOU, GAME MASTER.”
Mori: Then inspect your numbers and take your seats. You should also feel free to sniff the papers.
No one did that.
I got #3. Motherfucker. FPB was sitting to my right. But at least Athena was sitting to my left. I felt like I could trust her, and I felt like she would call him out if he pulled any more of his rage crap. Tragically, Axton was sitting to FPB’s right. That wasn’t going to go well. Snorlax was sitting to Athena’s left, and Sage was in his usual spot, as Mori’s right hand. So it went: tech, muscle, tech, magic, muscle, magic. Not ideal.
Mori surveyed the room. “Not at all how I had hoped,” he muttered. “But nevertheless! The team has been assembled. The time has come...”
“PRE-GAME!!!!!!”
I actually knew what to shout this time. I remembered to pound on my chest, and I looked to Athena in an attempt to learn the tribal dance. I got close enough.
We charged into the fuel station. I stood by the non-threatening triad of shots, while all the other team members stood before their seven shots.
Mori: Fireball. Each tincture shall light a fire in our bellies, improve out spell-casting, and lead us to victory. Chummers... DRINK!!!
I slammed two shots and picked up the third to nurse during the game. Just like the night before, all the other players downed their seven shots with astounding ease.
We returned to the War Room and took our assigned seats.
Mori: The Rules!
Everyone groaned, just as they had previously. Apparently, this was customary.
Mori: If you glitch, you must take a shot of Fireball to boost your skills. OP, you may take a SIP of an alcoholic beverage. You may also do a bump of coke.
FPB clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and growled. This was delighting me to no end!!! Not only might I get a little taste of my former favorite drug for the first time in YEARS, but Mori also seemed to be actively antagonizing FPB. It was delicious.
And here’s one for the philosophers: AITA... If you’re antagonizing the asshole, doesn’t that kind of make you the hero?
Mori: The second time you glitch, you must kiss my staff or endure a smack in the face from my staff. FPB, you must suffer The Lap of Luxury upon your second glitch... Or if you misbehave.
FPB: Explain that.
Mori: It will become clear in good time, my sweet little Samurai.
FPB shifted uncomfortably. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
Mori: All subsequent glitches will result in escalating staff punishments, the anal gaze, removal of armor, or a spanking. Anything the team deems an epic success shall be rewarded with a shot of Johnny Walker Blue. And my trusted Assistant GM has a few new rules to add, just for the time being. Sage the Mage, the floor is yours.
Sage: We can’t afford to pay for another round of professional cleaning for... the time being. We are now asking that ALL team members please use the restroom if you must pee, poop, or puke. Gentlemen, feel free to pee in the backyard, but please refrain from peeing on the porch. Thank you. Back to you, Game Master.
Mori: Place your hand on your chest and pledge your loyalty if you agree to this; and take off your pants if you object.
FPB put his hands near the button of his trousers. Everyone watched him with bated breath. But then he placed his hand on his chest.
Mori: Then we continue planning the station takeover... NOW!
We had barely gotten through two combat turns when Mori decided it was time for leftover Taco Bell, more liquor, and pornography. Tonight, Snorlax rolled for Bat Pussy, an older film that is widely considered to be the Plan 9 from Outer Space of porn. It was definitely on the “softcore” side since no one ever actually banged. It’s a spoof on Batman, and the main character gets a little “twitch” DOWN THERE whenever she needs to go fight crime. I found it wildly entertaining!
In fact, I laughed hysterically throughout the entire movie. Most of us did. FPB even snorted once or twice. As the main character was bouncing on a hippity hop alongside the highway, wearing a cheap costume, I was howling with laughter. Possibly because everyone was a little drunk and the drunken laughter was contagious, possibly because it really was absurdly funny. Or both.
FPB: It’s not THAT funny.
Me (gasping): I can’t help it! This is bat-shit crazy!
Mori: We gotta get OP a Batgirl costume and a hippity hop!
Me: You’re ON! I will absolutely do that! When can we film it???
FPB: You’re gonna recreate a scene from a PORNO??? With MORI???
Sage: Dude! WHAT is sexual about this scene? It’s ridiculous. That’s why we’re all cracking up!
FPB: You have to understand. I’m an intellectual...
I was painfully familiar with the insufferable tripe that typically followed this statement. Apparently, so was the Shadowrun crew. Everyone groaned dismissively. And then something vaguely resembling a sex scene started up, and Mori shushed us all.
Mori: Shhhh! It might finally get good!
It didn’t. Not in the way Mori meant.
The movie ended, most of us lit a ciggy, and we all returned to our assigned seats.
Mori: Shall we refuel before we resume?
A chorus of “HELL YEAH” rang out. I wasn’t in the mood for booze. I was once again beginning to fade around this time, and I needed to find a way to get some Adderall from Mori without FPB noticing. It had already been an incredibly long day for me, even though I had been having fun (aside from having to tend to FPB’s nonsense). Maybe the beardo boyfriend was the reason I was getting exhausted at these gatherings.
Constantly having to talk him down from a temper tantrum, having him constantly looking over my shoulder and scrutinizing my every move, suffering through his ceaseless (and useless) suggestions for my next move, having to defend myself for not drinking enough, then having to turn around and defend myself when I decided to have an extra shot, enduring his seething wrath every time I so much as spoke to Mori or Axton... It was exhausting.
As everyone was refueling, FPB had managed to trap Sage and Athena and was lecturing them about why it was disrespectful to FEMALES to combine humor with sex.
FPB: To make a mockery of the female anatomy, and then to depict sexual acts so crudely is offensive to me as a feminist.
Athena: YOU’RE a feminist?
FPB: Obviously. I would lay down my life to defend the sacred honor of the feminine spirit.
Sage: I’m pretty sure it was just a bad movie. Plus, the superhero was a woman, so...
FPB: But they had to make her superpowers connected to her genitals. That’s objectification. It’s not funny, even if it’s meant to be “so bad, it’s funny.” I’m offended.
I wasn’t part of the discussion, but I interjected, “I feel like humor can be sexy. Being able to laugh during sexual experiences can create a bond. And if both partners are deliberately goofing off, what’s offensive about that?”
Axton raised his glass in approval. I couldn’t help smiling at him.
FPB: Oh, Miss Sex Therapist knows everything.
Me: I don’t know anything. Clearly. It’s just an opinion. Based on research. That I learned in graduate school.
FPB: Some idiots actually researched LAUGHING during sex? That can’t be a real thing.
Me: I’ll print out the articles.
FPB: From where? Hustler?
I didn’t have the energy to argue with him.
Me: Yes. I cite Hustler in all my papers.
Axton: I’ve read the same thing. Laughing releases endorphins. Sex releases endorphins. Plus, why do you think adult novelty stores are always so funny? The elephant trunk underwear?
Mori: I have a pair of those.
Of course he did.
FPB: You want a bottle smashed over your head, Axton? STOP TALKING TO MY GIRLFRIEND ABOUT YOUR DICK.
Me: FPB, he literally said nothing about his dick.
FPB: WRONG. He was *agreeing* with you. He’s trying to ingratiate himself. Because he’s thinking with his DICK.
I rolled my eyes.
Mori saved us by clapping his hands. “Back to the War Room, chummers!”
We headed back, and Mori was following close behind me. He tugged on one of my pigtails. I turned around to see him holding an Adderall in the palm of his hand. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure FPB wasn’t watching. He was too busy staring daggers at Axton. I snatched the pill, thanked Mori, and slipped it in my mouth.
When my turn came around, my sleaze failed, and the security subnet sent my coordinates to the mainframe. It was my first glitch of the evening, and I didn’t want to pile cocaine on top of Adderall. So I had to take a sip of an alcoholic beverage. Since I didn’t have one of my own, FPB offered me his Jack & Pepper (Jack Daniels and Dr. Pepper... 90% Jack, 10% Pepper).
Me: Is anybody drinking a beer? Or something a little less potent?
Snorlax offered me a sip of his beer.
Me: You’re sure you don’t mind?
Snorlax: It’s all good. Have a sip.
FPB was fuming again.
Snorlax handed me his beer and I took a sip.
Me: Thank you.
FPB: You’re drinking after another man??? You didn’t even wipe off the mouth of the bottle first? UGH! It’s like you’re kissing him!
Snorlax started making kissy sounds at me. I made them back. Everyone laughed. Everyone but FPB, of course.
Please remember that this was in the Before Times...
I sat back down. FPB pulled me into his lap and growled, “Snorlax now? Really?”
I twisted to look him in the face and said through clenched teeth, “It was a sip of beer.”
FBP kept one long arm tightly wound around me and used his free hand to slug back loud gulps of Jack & Pepper. I dared to glance over at Axton. We locked eyes for a few seconds, but Axton abruptly whipped his head around to face Mori.
FPB roared, “WERE YOU JUST LOOKING AT MY GIRLFRIEND, FUCK-WALLET???”
Sweet Athena spoke up.
Athena: Funky. Seriously. We’re supposed to be a team. We can’t even look at each other? Mori, can we outlaw the outbursts? We’re never even gonna get past the planning phase if FPB keeps screaming at every single person who interacts with OP.”
Mori: I’m inclined to agree with you, Athena. FPB, why did you invite your girlfriend here if you didn’t want her to play our game and get to know us?
I felt FPB take a deep breath in preparation to react inappropriately to Mori’s innocuous question.
Mori was able to effectively silence him by simply lifting his hand. Dude, he was gonna have to teach me his tricks!
Mori: We’d like to be able to get to know her in peace. OP, would you like to get to know us in peace?
Me: Yes. I really would.
Mori: FPB, these outbursts have earned you a new punishment... The Lap of Luxury. Get on over here, Tall Boy.
Mori patted his lap.
FPB: Are you serious?
Mori: I am. You sit right here until I say you may rise.
FPB didn’t move.
Mori: Should you refuse, OP can come sit in my lap. (Better Mori’s lap than FPB’s.)
FPB scrambled up, sending me flying out of his lap. I gleefully lit a cigarette and made googlie eyes at Axton that were sure to go unnoticed by the incredibly incensed FPB.
FPB awkwardly folded himself into Mori’s lap, grunting and grumbling the entire time. The rest of the team was desperately trying not to laugh (which of course, made it even funnier).
Once he had settled in (as much as he could), we continued the planning phase. Athena was successful, so was Snorlax, so was Sage. But Axton glitched. This was sure to be a problem. Mori was stuck under FPB, so he was unable to “whip it out” and administer the customary punishment.
Mori: Axton, remove a piece of your armor.
Axton reached around with one hand and pulled his t-shirt off in a single fluid motion. I’m quite certain that my pupils noticeably dilated. The rest of the room “whooped” like we were at a Chip ‘n Dales show.
FPB looked like some sort of cartoon villain who had just been foiled. As he sat indignantly upon the Mori Throne, he twitched and shifted, snarling curses, teeth gritted. And then he froze. His eyes widened. He started to stand, but Mori wrapped his arms around him tightly, trapping him in the Lap of Luxury.
FPB: YOU HAVE A HARD-ON, BRO. LET ME THE FUCK GO.
I squealed with laughter. And it seemed that I had been right about Mori letting people off the hook when they were legitimately uncomfortable with the “gross-out” punishments, because Mori loosened his grip, allowing FPB stomp off to the back porch.
“OP! OP! OOOOOOOO PPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!,” FPB screamed from the porch.
Mori: OP, you’re free to go tend to his meltdown if you want to. But I’m happy to handle him if you need a break.
Me: I definitely need a break.
Mori got up to tend to the bearded ball of rage.
I heard a bit of unintelligible yelling, then the door slammed. We all looked at each other with something across between nervousness and bemusement, waiting for someone to speak. I decided to break the silence...

Applying to: Colorado State University (common data set shows only a 65% acceptance rate for male transfer students, rather than the freshman 91% acceptance rate)
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Ethnicity: Hispanic
State: New York
Major: Computer Science
SAT/ACT: Did not take
HS GPA: 0.13
Home-schooling GPA: 3.9
College GPA: 3.593
College Credits: 29 (7 summer credits IP for a total of 36)
Letters of Recommendation: 3, two from English professors (one of them being a department chair), the last being from the department chair of the History department.
Extracurriculars:
Volunteered at a local food bank and animal shelter for 2018 and 2019.
Participated in neighborhood cleanup events for 2020
Worked full time to support my family during 2021
Academic Explanation (is about): I’ve had quite a unique journey with my education, not really the traditional path you’d expect. I faced my first major hurdle in 6th grade with a dislocated knee, which happened again in 8th grade. This disrupted my schooling significantly. Things escalated in 9th grade when I had to have knee surgery, causing me to miss an entire academic year. Without help, I fell behind my classmates.
Just when I was catching up, my mom was diagnosed with cancer during my 10th grade. Being part of a single-income family, I had to step up to take care of her. This meant I had to leave traditional school and shift to homeschooling, a challenging transition given that my parents didn’t complete high school.
Personal statement (is about): From my childhood, I've seen education as a way to break free from the struggles my parents faced due to their incomplete high school education. My path hasn't been traditional, though. A knee surgery in high school and my mom's cancer diagnosis forced me to leave regular school and turn to homeschooling. It was tough, but it made me resilient. I even managed to maintain a high GPA. Amid these challenges, my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend, who is at Colorado State University (CSU), provided me strength and motivation. So, getting admission there means more than just academic progress. Despite everything, my resolve for higher education is stronger than ever. I'm ready for the opportunities and challenges that lie ahead at CSU.

I (in Texas) recently applied to be a full time Pharmacy Tech at a CVS very close to me, among other places. I have a reasonable amount of experience, and have been getting interest from other companies as well. CVS offered me a position first, but at 16.25 per hour. I made 15 dollars in my first position ever as a part time tech at a Kroger, and I know from friends other companies would be starting me at 17 at least. I'm not particularly attached to this specific location. It is convenient, but not convenient enough to be underpaid.
My question, does anyone have experience negotiating their hourly rate before accepting employment? Will they leave me hanging and waiting for days just to tell me no? I don't want to miss out on somewhere else because i'm waiting for CVS to get back to me.

{THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING: Existential dread, emotional moments, romance, and a singular phrase which could be seen as suggestive depending on how dirty your mind is. ;) }
(Any sentences or phrases wrapped with brackets "[ ]" are designated as inner monologue!)
Thank you to u/SpacePaladin15 for creating this wonderful literary universe!
< First Previous Next >
Memory transcription subject: James Willik, Human Historian
Date [standardized human time]: July 15, 2165
“Umm. Sooo, isn’t the universe only around 14 billion years old?”
“You would be correct.” The scientist’s expression showed that he was as dumbfounded as I was. “I should add that the highest number that any of our new dating devices can go is to around 20 billion, it is entirely possible that the artifact could be even older than we can detect.”
[What the fuck.]
A shrill voice from my left shook me out of my stupor. I looked to my side to see Lemva standing out of her seat, her tail lashing angrily. “Is this some elaborate joke? That isn’t possible. What you’re saying isn’t possible.” President Zhao began to speak. “I am fully aware how frankly nonsensical this is sounding, but this is serious and we need to approach this with an open mind. The Federation rated this item as a danger to the entire galaxy for a reason. We have no idea what we’re dealing with here and with something that could pose this much danger that is not acceptable.” Lemva suddenly spat with a ferocity I haven’t heard in a long time. Her anger frightened me not just because of her abnormal behavior and proximity, but also because of the recipient of her anger.
“You are aware that what you’re saying undermines everything we know about existence, right? Are you aware of that? Do you have any idea how INSANE this is sounding? You’re telling us, US, a couple of unqualified nobody misfit historians, that we’re somehow prophesied by this magical indestructible artifact that existed before time to do… something? AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT SOMETHING IS?! You just expect us to take this sitting down? Uh-uh, no, I’m not accepting this.” I tapped the table gently to get her attention, she snapped one of her orange eyes at me in response, I could barely get out what I was going to say in fear of her. “Maybe we shouldn’t yell at President Zhao?” I squeaked my suggestion at her. She just smoldered at me.
Lemva quickly pushed her chair backward and power-walked through the doors of the conference room, the force from her slamming the door rattled its hinges. I sometimes forget how strong she is, perks of evolving on such a high gravity planet I suppose. I glance at my remaining two partners and they are just as shaken as me. We all slowly look back at Zhao in fear of his response to Lemva’s attitude. Zhao still looked calm, so that’s good, but his posture indicated exhaustion.
“You three can leave for now, I’ll schedule another meeting for tomorrow once she’s settled down. If you could talk to her, that would be greatly appreciated.” Zhao started to rise from his seat but paused momentarily. “Oh I forgot to mention, you’ve been granted access to the guest residence wing. Lars, hand them their cards please.” A large man walked around and passed us our cards, handing me a second one presumably for Lemva. “The suite’s code on the tram is S29. You’re dismissed.”
Cayek, Tassak, and I quickly hurried out of the room to catch up with the furious venlil. Thankfully she hadn’t gone far, and was just waiting at the tram. We approached her quietly, none of us having the courage to start a conversation. She barely acknowledged us as we drew closer. I steeled myself to initiate contact but to my surprise she decided to do it first. “We’re leaving. Fuck this, they expect us to just accept that everything we know is wrong? They can take their invitations and shove them up their asses.” I gathered the courage to respond to her.
“I’ve never seen you this angry before. Talk to me.” She sighed, seeming to deflate as she did. Most of her anger melted off of her and left defeat in its place. “I need some time, I don’t have the energy right now.” “Alright, that’s ok. Before we left the conference room, we were handed keycards to the suite. Zhao said that we could stay there for a while.
Lemva looked up at my face with an eye. The happy glint she usually carried in her eyes was replaced with a dull feeling of hopelessness. “Okay.” I gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She answered my request to hug her before I had even asked. She buried the side of her head into my chest. We sat there for a few seconds, and it felt good, but all good things had to come to an end eventually. I silently guided her into the tram, Cayek and Tassak following close behind. The doors closed and I typed in the code for our suite, S29. The tram took off and winded through a maze of hidden tunnels before arriving at our destination.
Exiting the tram, we came to a closed set of heavy fake wooden doors with a keycard reader to the side. I swiped my card and the hidden locks on the doors clicked several times, before the doors swung open. [Wow. This is a really nice room.]
I guided Lemva onto a nearby sofa and marched into the gargantuan kitchen provided to us in order to prepare some coffee for her. As I waited for the coffee machine to finish, I saw Cayek and Tassak exploring their new surroundings. Cayek walked around and admired the luxurious artistry that permeated the space, while Tassak… Tassak poked at various objects as if she had never seen them before. She reminded me of a curious child. She accidentally tore a hole in a chair with her claw before hastily trying to hide the damage with a very obviously out of place pillow.
The coffee machine sputtered the last few drops of liquid ambrosia into Lemva’s mug and I hurried over to where she was sitting. I placed the warm cup into her paws and sat beside her. For several minutes we watched some TV on the large screen across from us. Lemva leaned more into my shoulder the longer we sat there. Tassak and Cayek had gone to their rooms by now. After watching 8 episodes of the ninety-seventh season of The Simpsons, she had calmed down.
I looked down at her. “Are you ready to talk now?” She nodded. “Mhm.” “Ok, do you wanna tell me why you got so angry during the conference?” She frowned slightly. “Everything they were saying… the artifact, I just…” She stopped for a moment to gather her words. “If what they said was true, and the artifact is from before the universe, and it depicts us… that implies so much. If what they said is true, then whoever made the artifact could see the future. If they could see the future, that means fate exists. If fate exists, then that means that everything I’ve ever done, everything that we’ve ever done, was meaningless. I mean, all my struggles, all my successes, for no reason.” She looked up at me and I could tell she could see my confusion.
“If you were playing a game, and every action you took did absolutely nothing to change the end result, but the whole time you thought that they did, wouldn’t it hurt to realize in the middle of a round that your input is entirely meaningless and changes nothing? But then, if you look at it another way, there’s the idea that you’re not even really alive, that you’re just a machine going through the motions. The idea that everything you were, are, and will be, every action you take, every thought you think, every emotion you feel is just a set of directions and ideas set to play out for the rest of eternity, that you’re just a couple words on a page to be read…”
I had no idea how to respond to that. I was never all too good at imagining such high-brow philosophical concepts, and I’ve always been even worse at handling the emotions of others, so wrap the two up into a depressing little veggie wrap and you’ve got me stumped. I did the only thing I could think to do at that moment. I wrapped my arms around her and placed my chin on her forehead. She snuggled into my body. I hadn’t felt this much comfort for a long, long time.
“Y’know… after I dropped contact those few years ago, I always wanted to send you a message, tell you I miss you, tell you why I stopped contacting, those sorts of things. But I never did. Because I was afraid.” I lifted my chin off Lemva’s head and she looked up at my face. I stared down back at her. “What were you afraid of?” She asked me in a soft voice. “Lots of things. I was afraid of explaining what happened, the “incident” was too recent to talk about. I was afraid that you’d hate me for disappearing, and the fear only got worse the longer time went. But mostly…” I inhaled sharply as I prepared myself. “I was afraid you’d betray me.” Lemva’s eyes held a puzzled and pained expression.
“I didn’t tell you who killed my parents, only that someone did. Soon after I was born, my father went into the venlil exchange program and met a venlil named Draton. They became friends almost immediately, or at least, Draton pretended to become friends.” Malice filled my voice as I talked about the scum who murdered my family. “I loved him growing up, almost as much as my parents, for a while he was like, my third favorite person in the world. He was like an uncle to me and a sibling to my parents.” I gulped and looked away. “Hopefully it should be obvious what I’m saying he did.” I took a shuddering breath and looked deep into Lemva’s eyes. “I was terrified that another loved one would turn out to be a monster. I was terrified that you would turn out to be a monster.”
I closed my eyes and mustered all the courage I could manage and called upon every deity from every religion I could remember or had even heard of in passing. I opened my eyes and placed my hands gently on the sides of Lemva’s head. She didn’t resist. “Alright… this is my greatest secret yet. I’ve been so scared to tell you but I can’t keep holding it in anymore, I need you to know.” Lemva held her breath.
“I love you Lemva, I’ve loved you since we first hung out in history club, I loved you when you cheered and hopped around at our graduation, I loved you when you talked so enthusiastically about your job. I always have, and I always will, love you.” I could feel my face burning as blood rushed through my cheeks. Lemva had it even worse though, her face was more orange than the fruit the color was named after. Her eyes were so wide I could barely see her irises anymore.
Tears formed in her eyes, but I could tell right away that these weren’t tears of sadness. The goofiest and cutest smile I had ever seen in my life quickly formed on her little face. She squeaked at me in delight. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” She reached up, grabbed my hands, and squeezed them tight. I could feel her tail wrap around my back, a gentle force guided me closer to her. “You sure you wanna do this?”
“I’ve been around humans all my life, I know what a kiss is, dummy.” She whispered amusedly. We closed our eyes and embraced for the first time. All my worries, fears, and doubts melted away and drained off of my mind like meltwater off a cliff as we sat there basking in each other’s warmth.
We separated our faces and stared at each other. The happy glint in her beautiful orange eyes had returned brighter than I had ever seen it before. We sat staring for what seemed like forever, I had forgotten that a world existed beyond this sofa. I looked up at an antique clock mounted on the wall and waited a moment as my implant translated the extraterrestrial time-keeping system into a familiar 12-hour format. 8PM. Almost as if in response to my realization of the time, a wave of exhaustion crashed into me like a rogue space freighter. I wanted so desperately to stay here cuddled with Lemva for the rest of my life, but alas, sleep deprivation is a cruel mistress.
“Lem, it’s 8pm, we gotta get some sleep if we’re gonna attend the conference tomorrow.” “Awww, a couple more minutes? Pleeeeeeeease?” “I know this is really comfy and I know you don’t wanna think about ‘the object’ but we’ve got to do it.” I could tell she was still uncomfortable thinking about the implication that even the mention of the artifact carried with it, and we still would need to talk that through, but for now at least, she wasn’t having an existential crisis.
We untangled ourselves, rose off the sofa, and headed toward our rooms. But Lemva suddenly halted in the middle of the hallway. I spun around to see why she stopped. She looked down at the ground and rubbed her paws together like she does when she’s nervous, her face was an almost neon orange, miraculously managing to be even more vibrant than before. She wore a bashful smile on her face. “Is something wrong?” “no… I was just wondering, could I sleep in your room for tonight?” “Sure. Why, is there something wrong?”
“No… there’s just… something I’ve been wanting to try…”
“Wha- oh.”
“Oh.”
< First Previous Next >
(I think I've got a hang of the reddit formatting now. However, advice and critiques of the way the story is told are still very welcome.)

Other than the obvious Darkhawk decks; this would seemingly be a universally accepted change.
And even with the Darkhawk users, I’m not suggesting them remove it entirely and honestly I’d rather them go down to 3 rocks from Sub and 1 per from Lechu; but I figured I’d meet you in the middle haha.
And I’ve been wanting to ask this sub about this for like 2 weeks (around the HE release) but I honestly think they might have accidentally reverted the spawn rate change of Subterranea and Lechuguilla.
I’ve gone back to seeing one or the other every 2-4 matches now. Has anyone noticed them showing up at a normal rate? I’m not asking if you’ve seen them a bunch. I’m saying, they were suppose to be more rare, but I’m seeing them as much as any other. In fact, I genuinely haven’t seen Rickety Bridge in at least 6ish days but I see Sub and Lechu multiple times an hour

A little context for why I'm asking. I got an FE about a month back, and it was running around ~21-24W average (MSI Afterburner, HWInfo, and Nvidia's own overlay held this stastic consistently among all three software programs). Which I thought was fine until I realized how much lower it can go.
Lately I've been having a headache with a newly minted AM5 platform (7800X3D + 6000Mhz 64GB RAM), which is still in somewhat of a poor software state with respect to BIOS issues overall.
In my efforts to tune my system and diagnose issues, I've noticed lately when looking at my idle power draw has astonishingly dropped by more than 50%. I now idle at around ~7W (+1W if I'm moving my mouse around the desktop). I had no idea this was possible this since I've been doing many things the past few days, but this goes against every single reported idle wattage for 4090's. I have a secondary system running an EVGA(RIP) 3080 FTW3 that will not suck anything less than 30W idle irrespective of any BIOS tweaks I make (the 4090 in this old system also used to draw the same ~21W-24W idle just like the new AM5 system did before I noticed this insane drop in idle draw).
The kicker in all of this, is when doing the research it's universally accepted that if you run a higher resolution monitor, or higher refresh rate (or multi monitors), your idle power is going to climb. What's interesting is, I recall running 1440p prior at 60Hz, but now it's at 120Hz, yet still the 4090 draws less power.
The 3080 is on a 1080p system, running 60Hz on desktop, yet it draws so much power (it being FTW3 I imagine is the cause, as well as the garbage Samsung node Nvidia opted for the 3000 series, this thing has always drawn this amount of power, on both systems).
So my question: can you folks post your idle power numbers? I want to see what other people are getting. (Also please if you can post your RAM speed, and CPU, and whether you have hyperthreading enabled or not, I just found out while typing away at this, if I enable hyperthreading+ EXPO/XMP memory "overclocking".. my GPU idle goes up by 2-5W (along with High Performance profile in windows), but is still incredibly lower than all the other reported numbers out there by outlets, and can be brought down to sub 7W as the obvious kicker here). If you have other GPUs, also feel free to post if you feel like it as it might help others to get a frame of reference as I recall reading about long term bugs on Linux systems with multi-monitors drawing 50W+ idle on other GPUs about a year ago.

I've been seeing a rise in recent years of terms use by both politicians and normal people talking about health care as a "Fundamental Right" like free speech or right to bear arms; and it makes my eyes roll back in my head every time.
Free speech is a right, because you can say whatever you want. It does not affect anyone else unless they want it too, and it harms no one if people don't accept it. It has consequences only if it used negatively and has negative responses. Even then, you have the right to speak, and any attempt by anyone in any circumstance to prevent you from speaking is tyrannical and wrong, under any situation. (Some people do need a good punch in the face though, not disagreeing with that; have some manners).
The right to defend yourself is the same thing. If you are attacked by person or beast, you have the right to defend yourself, physically, from attack. Only under tyranny do people have this right wrongly taken, and almost always so that the gov can abuse it's power and enforce it's will against the people.
But health care is neither of these things. If you were to break your leg doing something dumb, NO ONE is obligated to go out of their way, spend their own money and time, or even to give a crap about you. If you get hit by a car, NO ONE is obligated to help you. If you contract a disease, NO ONE has to help you. All of these would be infringements upon another person's free will, time, energy, and resources. If you are in an on-fire building and are trapped, sure, its the right thing to do to help you, but no one is OBLIGATED to help you, ESPECIALLY NOT if it is at cost to them.
Doctors and physicians go to college to learn to help people, and are compensated extremely well for the work and expertise they put in. They provide a lifesaving SERVICE to their customers, but they are not FORCED to do so, and if they wanted to refuse to treat someone, they could (Hippocratic oath aside). Health care companies provide the SERVICE of helping people cover the cost to pay for that SERVICE. All of these are services that should be allowed to refuse to render aid to someone if they choose to not to.
This is why I think it's extremely low intelligence to say things like "abortion is a fundamental right", or "birth control is a fundamental right", or "abortion is health care" in the same vein. None of those things are rights, especially since you're infringing on the right to live of an unborn child (who isn't human, I get it, so they can't have rights, whatever, that's the same things they said about Irish and Black slaves). They are SERVICES PROVIDED TO A PERSON by a physician who is being compensated.
​
Universal Health Care is another thing. Sure, if a society agrees that everyone, regardless of who they are, where they're from, or what they do, should be provided health care if they need it, then sure, why not. A government program to assist people who need help is ALWAYS GOOD, much like any welfare program. The issue is people are undeserving of that sometimes and find ways to use and abuse the system. Another issue is if the government runs health care, they get to say who and what gets care. They get to decide compensation. They get to collect tax from everyone and distribute it. They get to regulate health care. More government regulation ALWAYS kills competition, and what we've seen in countries like Cuba, UK, and others is that doctors do all this work and studying and now they don't get compensated enough, there are too many people needing service, and the wait times are far too long (people are literally dying in emergency rooms after waiting 6+ hours in the UK right now). But what is the incentive of doctors and physicians to work their asses off to get the incredible education they get, only to not be accommodated reasonably or at the same flat rate as every other doctor? Without competition and with too much regulation, there is no incentive to be better and to work hard than anyone else because at the end of the day, you are not elevated above your peers in accordance with your merit. That is where Universal Health Care fails. AND you've got junkies, who have all these resources to get help, sitting in an emergency room for the 5th time this week getting thousands of dollars worth of treatment off of taxpayer dollars. That's why most insurance companies charge higher rates to those who use drugs and smoke or drink.

Good afternoon. My name is Calen and I'm a graduate from the University of Connecticut with a Bachelors in Communications. I'm a well-established writer who was accepted to work at a local newspaper, but due to some health-related issues I realized I need to work remotely.
While at the University of Connecticut I wrote a 15-page article on cellphone use that a teacher is currently using as an example for future classes. I also published a short story, titled "An End, for Once."
After graduating, I worked remotely at a Publishing Company and edited at a rate of around 1 book a week, to a total of 16. My supervising editor took a liking to me and after leaving the company, I continued to edit 4 of her novels-- I can link you to them on Amazon. Finally, I got into writing about the entertainment industry. I wrote 100 articles on the gaming industry, gaming as art, and some of my favorite titles to play growing up. Unfortunately, this was a content mill, but after leaving I continued to write articles on my Medium page (now defunct) such as The Appeal of Gaming, and an article about my love of the Dark Cloud series.
Most recently, I decided to write activist articles for the Neighbor's Paper as well as interviewing, photographing and reviewing two local businesses.
My current rate is $0.07 cents per word. If you'd like to hire me as an editor, I charge $1.5 cents per word.
I am passionate about the written word and love helping others make their content the best it can possibly be. Let me show you what I can do. Have an amazing day.
Links:
https://calennakash.com/writing https://www.calennakash.com/writing/#activism https://www.calennakash.com/writing/#food https://www.calennakash.com/testimonials https://medium.com/@The\_RPG\_Kraken/a-love-letter-to-the-dark-cloud-series-e6112bc006fb https://medium.com/@The\_RPG\_Kraken/the-appeal-of-gaming-1cf073b8261f

My profile; GRE: 312, 5.0(Center Based), IELTS: 8.0, UG CGPA(until now): 8.06, no backlogs, Tier 2 college(Please let me know if this helps anywhere) Currently completed my pre-final year, one internship done(php dev) and in 2nd internship currently(ai/ml). Aiming for MS in CS(no specialization) I've seen a couple of universities through various predictors but most of them are universities I'm not aiming for. I'm listing the universities below, please add if there are any other decent universities similar to these:
Arizona State University Carnegie Mellon University University of Southern California (doesn't accept GRE) San Jose' State University
If the predictor doesn't show these universities, is there a 100% chance that these universities will not accept me? I also selected Santa Clara University while giving my GRE but later found out it was not that good. Also if you think I'm aiming for universities way more better than my profile please say it out. Nenem anukonu. Thanks in Advance.

My normal maximum budget for any week of racing is around $400, which I am comfortable with losing should I not hit a race. While I personally do not like to lose that much any week, the only other options are to bet less money or pass the races entirely. Playing less money will cause me to far short of my monthly and/or yearly goals and not playing at all is like the saying goes "You have to be in it for any chance of winning." On big race weekends, I will budget more, not to spread out my risk anymore, but to bet more of the better races and fuller fields that comes around only so often. Good Luck and hopefully you can knock down a big score which is so much more enjoyable than trying to nickel and dime the tracks to death (never works long term).
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 1: Maiden Special Weight --- Purse $90,000 --- 3 YOs & Up F&M ---- 6 Furlongs Turf:
2) Get Respect (8-1) is making her first start of the year. However, with maidens, they do not have to be the fittest a trainer can get them because most are not anywhere near their full potential until after a few races of experience. This one has 7 works for her first start this year, the first two were leg stretchers, the next four were decent and has the look of a trainer trying to get horse fit and the last work, 3 days before scheduled start, simply an exercise to keep her happy until race day. 3x5 to Storm Cat.
6) Quiescent (15-1) has started twice this year, setting the pace to the top of the stretch before tiring slightly to finish third while losing the photo finish at the wire to the Brown entry just above her, then setting the pace for a half before tiring badly in her last race which obviously her first start of year took enough conditioning out of her that she was still tire when entered back despite one average work after that first start (better known as a bounce). Now she has one good work, indicating she is not tired now and expect a rebound in this start. 5x5 to Mr. Prospector but also has a crossing influence to Never Bend through the dam line of Arch on her sire side and thru the 3rd dam, Stiff Breeze, a daughter. Fifth dam, Whirl Right, is a full sister to 1941 U.S. TC winner Whirlaway.
3) Roman Goddess (12-1) has started once this year and stumbled at the start which basically eliminated her from having any chance to impact the race. She has five more works since that effort and most of them were designed only to give her some leg stretching exercise. 4x4 to Mr. Prospector & Danzig.
10) Cindylouwho (15-1) has started 4 times this year, with 2 third place finishes in 5 furlongs grass sprints her only board finishes and the starts on dirt with little effort put into each race. She now has 3 placings in 4 lifetime attempts on grass and only needs to produce a race similar to any of them to be a major factor against these. She has what looks like two good works since her last, but both came on the Palm Meadows training track which is one of the fastest training tracks in the nation and those works are average at best. However, based off her actual races, she fits with these. 4x3 to A.P. Indy, 5(C)x5(C)x4(F) to Northern Dancer, 5x4 to Mr Prospector, 5x5 to Secretariat & Roberto.
My Risks: $8 WP 2, $5 Ex Box 2-6, $1 Tri Box 2-3-6, $.20 Super Box 2-3-6-10, $1 Super Key 2 with 3-6-10 with 3-6-10 with 3-6-10. Total Risk $42.80.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 2: Allowance --- Purse $80,000 --- 3 YOs & Up F&M NY Bred N/W $18K 1x or N/W 2 Races Lifetime --- 7 Furlongs Turf:
8) Silver Skillet (10-1) has one start this year which he chased the early pace for 6 furlongs before tiring, which is a typical first start back for most front runners after getting five months or longer break. Trainer put one easy or leg stretching type work in her since that start simply because he already saw her speed was still there in works prior to her first start back. This will be her first start on grass in her career. See a likely gate to wire effort for her against these. 5(C)x5(F)x5(F) to Mr. Prospector.
6) Lisa's Vision (8-1) has started once this year where she sat mid-pack early edge herself up to the edge of being a serious contender into the stretch before flattening out and stalling. Again, this is a typical first start back for a horse with this running style and you should expect improvement this out. Her last two efforts just before the break in races with same class, distance, and surface, she was nearing an effort to move on to the next condition or better races. Trainer has put 5 more works in her since her last effort, an easy work followed by 4 decent to good works. If she gets a little help with a pressured early pace which she did not get in her first start back, she could easily win this. Contender. 5x3 to Storm Cat.
7)Royal Dancer (12-1) has one start this year where she was eyeing the early pace as two ahead of her duel for a quarter, then the leader shook free and open a clear lead, forcing this one to pick up the chase much earlier than preferred, but then chase the loose leader to the top of the stretch before tiring after breaking from the 12th post, a slot that has very little chance to win in NY grass sprints. Trainer has put 5 more works in her since that effort, mostly leg stretching type works but a couple that could prove very helpful, including a bullet work five days before this start. She has two NY bred stakes placings on grass before she broke her maiden. Has some talent. 4(C)x5(C)x5(F)x5(F) to Northern Dancer, 5x4 to Fappiano.
1)I'mhavingamoment (5-1) has four starts this year, the first race was a state bred stakes race which she was overmatched against coming off a maiden win, then finished second and then 2 thirds after a drop down in class and a slow rise back up into condition allowance in her last start while also her first effort on grass. Has two works since that last effort, a good work followed by a decent and useful work. 5x4 to Danzig, 5x5 to Cyane, 5(C)x5(F)x5(F) to Northern Dancer. Her 5th dam is U.S. Champion Filly, Tempted, who has a stakes race named in her honor for 3 YO fillies.
My Risk: $6 WP 6, $5 Ex Box 6-8, $1 Tri Box 6-7-8, $.30 Super Box 1-6-7-8, $1 Super Key 8 with 1-6-7 with 1-6-7 with 1-6-7. Total Risk: $41.20.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 3: Pass on betting.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 4: Allowance --- Purse $85,000 --- 3 YOs & Up N/W $18K 1x or N/W 2 lifetime --- 7 Furlongs:
4) Bezos (50-1) has started 4 times this year, has flashed front running speed in all of them but then tired badly. In his last start, he carried his speed further than he has all year long or since he was last in his best form. This type wins only when they can control the early pace and he looks like he found a spot where he can do just that. Most of these horses have not tried stakes races in their career but the few that have has done so against young 2 YOs or 3 YOs, except this one when he set the pace in a G3 and a listed stake race against proven older horses. In addition, he will carry light race in the field due to his jockey receiving a 7 lbs. apprentice break. May seen foolish but will take a shot with this one with the speed to top of the stretch angle I have used successful plenty of times.
9) Twelth Man (6-1) has started three times this year with a second in his first start his only board finish this year. However, his current form cycle began with his last start last year after a 7-month break and he returned in close to same physical form as when he was stopped on. After a couple of pretty good efforts, he had a couple of not so good efforts. He is working on his third race since a good effort, and this is an angle I read about years ago that suggested betting horses back in their third start after a win if next two starts were not as good as his winning effort, but tweaked this angle to include all horses that gave a solid effort because it worked more often that way and with higher odds than the third race after a win.
2) Shipsational (15-1) has started 4 times this year with a second in his third start back as his only board finish this year. Next two races were poor and would normally be enough to consider a horse has tailed off his best form. But he has 5 works since that last effort, all of them decent to good that were also likely very useful. His current form cycle began in October last year when he came off almost a 7 month break after a second and third effort in a G2 & G3 stake races that obviously knocked him off his best form.
My Risks: $5 Ex Box 4-9, $1 Tri Box 2-4-9, $2 Quinella 2-4, $2 Quinella 4-9. Total Risk $20.00.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 5: Poker Stakes(G3) --- Purse $200,000 --- 4 YOs & Up ---- One Mile Turf:
3) Mackinnon (15-1) is making his first start of the year. Has six works to prepare for this start but also a trainer that brings his trainees back in top form often. 4x5 to Storm Cat.
1)Chez Pierre (1-1) threw easily a career best in last. A bounce candidate for sure. Under no circumstance would I accept 1-1 odds or less on a horse whose biggest win in the U.S. before his last race was a listed stake and has shown he is vulnerable against this class.
5) Anaconda (8-1) looks in best shape of the rest in a weak field for a G3 stakes race.
My Risk: $8 Exacta Straight 3-1, $1 Tri Box 1-3-5, $6 Tri Straight 3-1-5. Total Risk $20.00.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 6: Brooklyn Stakes(G2) --- Purse $250,000 ---- 4 YOs & Up --- 1 1/2 Miles:
6) Forewarned (20-1) has five starts with one win and one third his placings this year. I normally try to find horses that run late in these marathon type races, and he looks like he maybe can though this far is a question mark for him like every other horse in this field.
11) Code Runner (50-1) was originally trained by Asmussen and showed a little ability but not enough to impact graded stakes races. Horse was eventually put in hands of a trainer that has shown no ability or idea of how to properly prepare or get a horse fit. So, his race record looks much worse than it should and in a race like this, anything can and usually does happen.
9) Calibrate (10-1) won a stakes race at this distance two back while finishing in front of a couple of these, then was kept wide by the jockey throughout in his last start when beaten by several of these (per equibase footnotes). Switch of trainers and two good works since his last start. Which one will show up today? Guess right and you could make a decent score.
7) Warrant (5-2) won his last start under a drive after stalking and putting only front runner away heading into the stretch. Will likely have more pace to run at in here, so if jockey times his move slightly later, he will have a better chance of holding the late runners safe. A move a little early, like his last, likely results in a board finish only. 3 works since his last start, an easy leg stretching type work followed by two good works suggests he will be antsy to go earlier than usual.
My Risks: $4 Exacta Box 6-11, $1 Tri Box 6-9-11, $.30 Super Box 6-7-9-11. Total Risk $21.20. (a wild guess).
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 7: Ogden Phipps S(G1) --- Purse $500,000 --- 4 YOs & Up F&M ---- 1 1/16 Mile:
1)Pass The Champagne (8-1) ran a monster type race when just getting caught at the wire by the eventual Ky Oaks winner in the Ashland Stakes in her very first start against winners two years ago. However, that race not only knock her off form, but she needed almost a year off after a dull effort in the Oaks, then won an O/C race in her only start before taking another year break. A typical scenario of being asked to do too much too soon. She has four starts this year but in her last start, she suggested she has returned to her best form. Two useful works since her last start and she is sitting on go. 3x4 to Mr. Prospector, 4(C)x5(C)x5(C) to Northern Dancer.
4) Secret Oath (2-1) has started three times this year, winning her first start and then just missing in both of her next two starts, finishing 2nd in each race. Her Ky Oaks win remains her only G1 triumph through she has placed 2nd or 3rd in six more G1 races, all in her last 10 starts. 4x3 to Fappiano, 5(C)x5(C)x4(F) to Mr. Prospector.
2) Search Results (4-1) has started once this year and finishing third after trying the length of the stretch to get by the top two with no results. She has three works since that start, a good work followed by two useful works. Complete outcross in her first five generations. However, 8th dam, Iron Maiden, a daughter of War Admiral, produced 1957 Ky Derby winner Iron Liege and is 2nd dam of 1955 Ky Derby winner, Swaps.
6) Clairiere (6-5) has started twice this year, finishing second in the first start and then turning the tables on that rival in their next start. Both again shows up for the next major test for older females and either one could win without it being a major shock. She has 5 works since her last start, 2 easy leg stretching type works followed by two good and useful works and then another leg stretching type work 6 days before scheduled start. 3x4 to Mr. Prospector, 5x5 to Northern Dancer.
My Risks $5 Ex Box 1-4, $1 Tri Box 1-2-4, $3 Tri Key 1 with 2-4 with 2-4, $2 Super Key 1 with 2-4-6 with 2-4-6 with 2-4-6. Total Risk $34.00.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 8: Woody Stephens Stakes(G1) --- Purse $400,000 --- 3 YOs ---- 7 Furlongs:
2) Gun Pilot (20-1) has started five times this year with 1 win and 2 seconds his best finish. In his last start, lasix was removed from him for the second time and for the second time he ran a flat race, especially in the stretch but this time it was an even race where his late kick was missing. It will be interesting to see what he does when lasix is remove for the second race in a row for the first time of his career. He has four works since that start, an easy leg stretching work followed by 2 bullet 5 furlongs works then another blowout type work 5 days before his scheduled start. Sire, Gun Runner, was a late developer mostly because he was thrown against top competition that set him back a few months, but trainer has brought this one along more slowly and waiting for the light to click on for him. 4x3 to Storm Cat, 4x4 to Quiet American, 5(C)x5(C)x5(F) to Fappiano. His 5th dam, Ocean's Answer, is a full sister to Storm Bird who developed her own important line and is named a Reine-de-Course mare because of her influence on the breed.
13) Drew's Gold (8-1) has started four times in his career, winning all 4 starts, including 3 this year. Now, he will get the acid test to find out just how good he might be. Many of you probably do not know this trainer, but he started his training career in Southern California and a few years later was sending horses back & forth to compete in Florida and California. But he, like several others, closed their California barns due to workers compensation laws that cause many good barns to struggle, then practically disappeared for a decade before resurfacing again in Kentucky & then NY. He has one workout since his last start, a bullet work 10 days before scheduled start. Contender. 5x4 to Storm Bird, 5x5 to Northern Dancer, Secretariat, & Blushing Groom. His dam line traces back to La Troienne which simply means this is a dam line influenced by Domino as 10 of her 11 daughters and one son was bred to Domino line sires.
11) Victory Formation (10-1) has started 3 times this year, winning a listed stakes in his first start followed by a poor effort in a G2 stakes race and then leading until deep stretch before finishing 3rd in another listed stakes. However, if you look at the distance of all three races (1 mile, 1 1/8 mile and 1 1/8) and then you look at his dam line, you will see his problem. His 2nd dam is a daughter of a solid sprinter and good sprinting sire, 4th dam, White Jasmine, is a granddaughter of Crimson Satan and his 6th dam, Sister Satan, is a 1/2 sister to Crimson Satan. Crimson Satan hails from the Domino sire line who was best known by how fast he was sprinting. He has four works since his last start, the first two good works followed by 2 decent works where trainer looked intent on trying to get him to rate by slowing his works down, something he did for the first time. 5x3 to Mr. Prospector, 5x5 to In Reality, 5(C)x5(C)x5(F) to Seattle Slew.
4) General Jim (7-2) has started three times this year, finishing unplaced in his first start though blocked most of the stretch run, then winning his next two starts in a G3 and then a G2 stakes races. He has three works since his last start, a leg stretching type work, then a good work, followed by another leg stretching type work six days before scheduled start. Looks as ready as any in here to me. Outcross in his first 5 generations but has plenty of Mr. Prospector & Northern Dancer influences on both sides.
My Risks: $5 Ex Box 2-13, $1 Tri Box 2-11-13, $.30 Super Box 2-4-11-13, $1 Super Key 13 with 2-4-11 with 2-4-11 with 2-4-11. Total Risks $29.20.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 9: Jaipur Stakes (G1) --- Purse $400,000 ---- 3 YOs & Up --- 6 Furlongs Turf:
5) Dr, Zempf (8-1) has started twice this year with his first start being a win in an O/C race on a GP turf course that played much faster this year than normal. Then tried G1 stakes company in his next out, set most of the pace to the top of the stretch before tiring at one mile on Keeneland's grass course. Believe he will enjoy the cutback to 6 furlongs. 3x4 to Machiavellian but sire line and broodmare sire line flows back into Northern Dancer.
13) Front Run The Fed (30-1) has started once this year in an allowance race, was near the back early, then started his rally soon after a half was complete and came with a rush in the stretch and was up and clear in time for the win. Has two leg stretching type works since that start. The stretch-out to six furlongs should suit him even more but will need to avoid trouble for best opportunity. 4x4 to Rahy, 4x5 to Mr. Prospector, 5x5 to Roberto.
10) Big Invasion (6-1) has two starts this year, winning his first start in a listed stakes at 5F on grass, then finishing unplaced in a G2 stakes race at 5 1/2 furlongs on grass but had trouble near the eight pole that likely caused him a better finish. Has 2 decent and useful works since his last start. 5x4 to Mr. Prospector. His 5th dam, Really Blue, is an unraced full sister to 1969 G1 Ky Derby & Preakness winner Majestic Prince and 2nd dam of 1998 Ky Derby & Preakness winner, Real Quiet.
6) Ice Chocolat (30-1) has three starts this year, the first to at 5 1/2 furlongs on grass and he finished unplaced in both of them, then switched to the AWT and stretched out to six furlongs when he edged closer to the leaders in the stretch run but a closing late kick was lacking. Now his fourth start of the year and one good work since his last start should help him find that needed punch late. 4(C)x5(C)x5(F) to Northern Dancer, 5(C)x4(F)x 4(F) to Mr. Prospector, 5x5 to Special.
My Risk $5 Ex Box 5-13, $ 1 Tri Box 5-10-13, $.30 Super Box 5-6-10-13, $1 Super Key 5 with 6-10-13 with 6-10-13 with 6-10-13. Total Risk $29.20.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 10: Metropolitan H(G1) --- Purse $1,000,000 --- 3 YOs & Up One Mile:
6) Zandon (5-1) has started once this year and finished second in what obviously trainer considered a prep for this start. The total purse for that race was $175K and no real help in raising a stallion's value, the purse for this race is $1M along with a likely raise in a stallion's value. He has three decent to good works since that effort and follows exactly the type of works he put in the horse before that race. 4x5 to Mr. Prospector.
2) Slow Down Andy (10-1) is making his first start of the year. He has 8 works to prepare for this start, the first 2 blowout type 3 furlongs works followed by 3 4 furlongs works that were simply leg stretching type works then a good 5 furlongs work and 2 good six furlongs works, none of them too fast to suggest he may leave his race in his works but not too slow to get no help from them. For reference, you can look how he brought Goldencents back off a 7-month break after winning the previous year BC Dirt Mile and finished 2nd to Palace Malice in the Met Mile. The favorite beat him last year in the BC Dirt Mile but his trip in the race (stumbled at the start, then became rank when rushed) before heading to biggest race of his life was a major reason why and usually knocks top horses off their best form. 5x4 to Mr. Prospector.
1)Cody's Wish (7-5) has made one start this year and made it a decisive win in a G1 stakes but everything in there were not of G1 quality except him which made an average win look like a romp. These are much tougher and trainer is acting concerned by how fast he has worked the horse since that race. 3 blistering fast works. Normally, horses that works this hard in works are tosses for me but I have not seen Mott put these types of works into his trainees in decades (thought he learned the hard way that super-fast works rarely works). He might run away and hide but the opposite happens way more than not. Am using caution. 3(C)x5(F)x5(F) to Mr. Prospector.
My Risks: $5 Ex Box 2-6, $3 Tri Straight 2-6 with 2-6 with 1, $5 Tri Key 6 with 1-2 with 1-2. Total Risk $26.00.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 11: Manhattan Stakes(G1) --- Purse $750,000 --- 4 YOs & Up --- 1 1/4 Mile Turf:
3) Warren Point (5-1) has one start in the U.S. this year where he was near the back early closed with a rush and taking a brief lead into the stretch before hanging and dropping back to fifth at 3-5 at 1 3/8 mile on the grass. Horse has shown he would much prefer the 1 1/4M distance as all 4 of his grass wins have come at that distance and his one 1 1/2-mile win was on the AWT. He has three works since that start, a leg stretching type work on dirt followed by two bullet works on grass around the dogs. 4x4 to Mr. Prospector, 5x5 to Northern Dancer, but also has a crossing to Never Bend through his grandsons Shirley Heights and Irish River.
10) Highest Honors (20-1) has one start this year where he was near the back early, was in a grind mold throughout the race but never really reach serious contention to finish 4th. Trainer has put 11 works in him, the first 5 works a little faster than he normally puts into his trainees, then gave the horse 13 days before returning to the work tab for six more weekly works, all of them good and decent though again faster than what he usually asks from his trainees. Likely as ready as he can be without a race in between some of these works. 4(C)x5(C)x4(F) to Mr. Prospector, 5x3 to Northern Dancer.
5) Soldier Rising (12-1) has one start this year where he sat mid-pack early, then eased back to last nearing the far turn while he waited for others to offer their best move, then came with a rush down the stretch to finish 2nd though no threat to winner who got away while he waited. Has 2 works since that race, a bullet work followed by a leg stretching work 6 days before scheduled start, both on grass around the dogs. 3x4 to Sadler's Wells & Danehill, 4(C)x5(C)x5(F)x5(F) to Northern Dancer, 5x5 to Special.
1)So High (50-1) has three starts this year and has not placed yet this year though he has carry his speed to the top of the stretch in each race. This race is lacking on front runners who has shown ability to beat good horses but this one will likely be the last one to stop. He has run respectable in a G1 stakes race last year at 1 3/8 miles but was never going to beat Channel Cat who won several big G1 grass stakes in his career. 4x5 to Northern Dancer, 5x5 to Northern Dancer.
My Risks: $5 Ex Box 3-10, $1 Tri Box 3-5-10, $.20 Super Box 1-3-5-10, $.60 Super Key 3 with 1-5-10 with 1-5-10 with 1-5-10, $6 Super Straight 3-10-5-1. Total Risk $30.00.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 12: Belmont Stakes(G1) --- $1,500,000 --- 3 YOs --- 1 1/2 Mile:
1)Tapit Shoes (20-1) Has three starts this year, the first two in o/c races where he finished 4th, then 3rd and then finished 2nd (by a head) in a stakes race at OP that offered an all fees paid to the winner to enter the Preakness S. But before that start, trainer had him under consideration for a start in the Blue Grass S by working him three times at Keeneland including on the day of the race but opted to wait while he tried to qualify Verifying for the derby. He worked again on Lexington Stakes Day which suggests that race was also under consideration before deciding on the race he did race in. Since that near miss, he has 4 more good works and this horse is sitting on a big effort. 4(C)x5(C)x5(F)x5(F) to Mr. Prospector but has a Seattle Slew crossing in the sire line and as grandsire of the 4th dam, Trithenia.
7) Hit Show (10-1) has started three times this year, winning a G3 stakes in his first start, then missing a G2 win by a nose when second followed by a fifth in the Ky Derby after getting caught in the melee near the rail turning into the stretch. Has three works since that start, a leg stretching type work followed by a good work and them another leg stretching type work one week before scheduled start. 4x5 to Fappiano, 5x5 to Mr. Prospector.
8) Angel Of Empire (7-2) has three starts this year, finishing 2nd in a listed stakes then winning his next 2 starts in a G2 and a G1 stakes races following by a fast closing third in the Ky Derby. He has three works since his last start, a useful work followed by two very good works but not too fast that it takes anything out of him. 4x5 to Miswaki, 5x4 to Mr. Prospector.
3) Tapit Thrice (3-1) has 4 starts this year, winning his first three starts in an o/c race, then a G3 win followed by a G1 win. In his last start in the Ky Derby, he was never able to get involved because his Blue Grass win caused him to use to much fitness trying to catch a speed type on Keeneland's notorious speed favoring track. A blunder his trainer makes almost every year that has caused him several derby wins. He has three works since that race, a useful one followed by a good work and then a leg stretching type work one week before scheduled start. 3x4 to A.P. Indy & Unbridled.
My Risks: $5 Ex Box 1-7, $1 Tri Box 1-7-8, $4 Tri Key 1 with 7-8 with 7-8, $.30 Super Box 1-3-7-8, $1 Super Key 1 with 3-7-8 with 3-7-8 with 3-7-8. Total Risk $37.20.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 13: Allowance --- Purse $80,000 ---- 3 YOs & Up NY Bred N/W $18K 1x or N/W 2 Lifetime --- 1 1/16 Mile Turf:
9) Curly Larry And Mo (8-1) has started three times this year and has not placed. However, all three starts came against open bred and he should relish the return to NY bred foes. He has no works since his last race but expect him to set the early pace and play a catch me if you can game, much like he did in last year's one mile BC Juvenile Turf S. Complete outcross in his first 5 generations but has a Caro crossing in the sire line and in the broodmare sire line as sire of the dam of Maria's Mon, who is the broodmare sire. Also has Crafty Admiral influence through Danzig and Crafty Admiral himself as the sire of the 4th dam, Won't Tell You, dam of Affirmed.
6) Mighty Atlas (30-1) has started twice this year, the first in a state bred o/c race where he trailed for a half mile then put in a run to get into contention into the stretch but could not chase down the gate to wire winner at one mile on dirt. Next start was in a state bred allowance, also at one mile on dirt, he never got involved after two works just before that race were on the dull side also, indicating he regressed slightly off that first effort. Now has two more works since his last start, a good work followed by a leg stretching but useful work and will now make the first grass start of his career. Good shot at upsetting this field. 5x2 to Capote with crossing help from the influential broodmare Alanesian.
8) Barrel Of Quests (15-1) has started twice this year, the first which he made a move to get into contention going into the far turn but had no further response in his first start in seven months in an open bred condition allowance race, as should be expected. He then shipped back to NY and was entered in a state bred allowance and cut back to a mile on grass when he ran an even race but again had no response in the stretch run. Will likely keep moving forward and is not far off his best race, so any improvement off his last likely results in a board finish. Complete outcross in his first 5 generations but has plenty of Domino blood on both sides of pedigree.
2) Let's Go Big Blue (4-1) will be making his first start of the year. However, last year, hew broke his maiden in his first start, then his next three starts came against open bred stakes horses, and he held his own in the first two before by far the worst race of his career when blinkers were added. That last experience did not help, and trainer will remove the blinkers for this start, and he will go with first time lasix. He has six works for this start, the first 4 were leg stretching type works followed by 2 good works. Will be tough to deny if he comes back anywhere close to the fitness he had when he took a break. 4x4 to Al Hattab.
My Risks: $5 Ex Box 6-9, $1 Tri Box 6-8-9, $.30 Super Box 2-6-8-9, $1 Super Key 6 with 2-8-9 with 2-8-9 with 2-8-9. Total Risk $29.20.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race 5 $3 Triple Play: 3 with 5-10 with 3-10. Total Risk $12.00
Race 7 $1 P6: 1 with 2 with 5,10 with 2,6 with 3 with 1,7. Total Risk $8.00.
Race 8 $.50 Mandatory P5: 2 with 5,10, with 2,6 with 3,10 with 1,7. Total Risk $8.00.
Race 9 $.50 Late P5: 5,10 with 6 with 3 with 1,7,8 with 2,6,9. Total Risk $9.00.
Total Risks All Bets: $397.00.

Re!gn, we are super honored to have you, you are the first artist that we didnt previously know and reached out to for a guest mix!
Your style blew us away on top of radiating positivity. You're killing it right now!!
That being said, can you pinpoint the moment you decided "This is what im going to do."?
Re!gn: I’ve been listening to EDM since I was 8 years old. In 2013 just at the peak of the “golden era” of EDM, I remember being SO UPSET that I was underage to see Krewella perform at Hawaii’s Summer Wonderland. There was a glimpse of their performance for like 3 minutes live on one of the local radio stations and I remember literally sobbing, feeling so severely underaged that I couldn’t go LOL. I was just in awe that of all the EDM that I’ve listened to, these women of color are taking the MainStage and KICKING ASS!!! They inspired me that if these strong women can make it as DJ’s and tour to such beautiful places to connect with people, maybe that is what I want to do too. Although I have been going to shows since I was a teenager, I never got the exposure to anything like the equipment or the lingo until I moved to California for my first year of college at 18.
Speak on that a bit, it sounds like you've had to overcome a lot of adversity, what kind of hurdles have you faced and how did you overcome them?
Re!gn: I am a second generation Filipino-American from the State of Hawaii, and there can be a lot of stigma towards career goals and overall values of how you “should be” living your life. Growing up, I knew I didn’t want to work in Hospitality/Tourism which Hawaii is known for. I wanted to pursue music as an art form. Going down this route, this can be considered taboo or even pointless in my culture. My immediate family - my mom, dad and sister have always been supportive of me though; It’s just the older generation of my family who had a hard time understanding my path.While my parents supported me through art school in CA, I know that they always worried about what the rave/party scene will bring and that’s absolutely valid. There have been concerns for my safety, especially since the nightlife exposes you to a lot. As a WOMAN, there are already so many challenges to be battling. Women are already up against a lot. As I blossomed living in California, I had to toughen up real quick. There have been times where I noticed that connections in a male-dominated industry can be very transactional in a totally non-professional way. Genuine friendship can be very tricky, especially when boundaries are crossed.
If you could have a conversation with yourself when you first set out on this journey what would you say?
Re!gn: Dear RE!GN, thank you so much for showing resilience and strength as you pursue this path of music. You know that you have potential, but once you step into confidence, that’s when life truly begins. Your persistence and spirit will show. I am so proud of you for taking a leap of faith into the unknown without compromising who you really are. Thank you for showing me that there is so much growth and power in being yourself and exploring what is out there. Keep on giving it your all with enthusiasm and drive. Keep riding that wave of momentum.
So Re!gn, what does that name mean to you?
Re!gn: At a very young age, I learned that in life, you have to be your own best advocate and that you need to be your own biggest supporter. On the flip side, as I grew up, I noticed that I can be my own worst enemy sometimes. Consequently this leads to vicious cycles of self doubt. Reflecting on how I can reframe my own self-talk, I realized that I could be my own role model. I thought that in order for me to really step into confidence as the new person I am becoming, I need to treat myself like royalty; even when the days feel impossible to get through.
I thought to use an exclamation mark in place of the letter “I” because I have been told in many chapters of my life that my positive energy really defines me. It just feels so me!
So let's backspin for a moment, give some advice to these ladies that are determined to dominate this primarily male industry. What can they do to make there trek a little easier; without compromising their integrity. Being honest, let's face it it's an uphill battle.
Re!gn: Ladies and theys, I know that it may be tough to fight the inner critic that stops you from being outspoken as your true, genuine self. Constant societal norms demand so much from us to always “put on a mask” to survive: how to talk to people, what to wear, how to look, how to act… it goes on. It’s 2023 and we are so blessed to see changes in representation. Please do not be afraid to be loud, be proud, be you, and fight for what you believe in. Fight for your right to celebrate individuality through expression in music and art. Don’t let judgement stop you from living your best life.
Please be very clear with your boundaries from the jump. If your intuition tells you that something is wrong.. most of the time, your intuition is correct. Have thick skin, but trust your intuition to discern between who you can be vulnerable with or not. Communicate with an open heart and open mind. Do no harm, but take no shit!!
Re!gn, we love you! To conclude this interview, we ask you, shout out your people and the unsung heroes of your scene!!!
The unsung heroes of the scene really are the PRODUCTION PEOPLE that add to our experience as DJ’s and show attendees - lighting, sound, photographers, those who work the events with social media, tickets/guest lists, bar sales. You all add to the big picture of a fantastic night out. Let’s not forget that the real heroes are GENUINE FRIENDS AND FANS who support your journey :)
YAY SHOUTOUTS :)
I would like to extend my deepest love gratitude to my family back home on Oahu, Hawaii: my Mom, Dad & Sister! I hope I represent our family well and that I make you proud. I love and miss you guys so much. To my extended family in the Bay Area: my grandparents, cousins, and those who I met at Academy of Art University — Thank you so much for helping me adapt to the great state of California through the college years. ~ For those who helped me kick start my career in San Francisco: Jason Jeong AKA: @elvnrstep, & QUEEN Forest Green @deejayforestgreen, thank you for watching me grow and for sharing opportunities and knowledge with me! Shoutout to my new family at San Francisco’s @dirtynotsorry - for accepting me into your Artist and Promotion collective in the beginning of 2023! To Sacramento’s very own entertainment collective @embracepastel — thank you for giving me a chance to learn about the industry starting from the eyes of a production assistant in 2021, to now letting me represent you on your DJ roster.
Last but not least: to my loving partner and my best friends in the Bay Area/Sacramento: You always make an effort to come to my shows and repost my content and your love does not go unnoticed. I’m so grateful that you are on this wild ride with me👑
Listen to RE!GN Guest Mix by Tempest Showcase on #SoundCloud https://on.soundcloud.com/2BrBx

I'd like to start by letting everyone know that the genre is Fantasy Epic, and that this is a long prologue at 6,414 words. This prologue serves a purpose as it takes care of a lot of my setting and plot setup. It also gives the reader a fair bit of worldbuilding without making it too much of an info dump (talking to you Robert Jordan ;P).
I've had several people beta read this for me and gotten a lot of positive feedback. The prolbem for me is that these were all people I know very well on a personal level. Several have made comparisons to Chronicles of Narnia or Lord of the Rings as far as how well the full book is written. The problem is, friends and family can often have a bias and make things seem better than they really are. So, now I want to do a test run in the real world and see what people who don't know me think. Is it as engaging and compelling as they have made me hope that it is?
I'm basically wanting to take a page from a couple authors I admire and follow the ABC rule for critiquing. Please let me know of any point where you thought it was Awesome, Boring or Confusing. I know prologues aren't everyone's favorite thing, but this has basically been written like a novella for the main story as it foreshadows a lot of things leading all the way into book four.
————————————————————————————
PROLOGUE
ARCHIVE INFINITUM
October 14, 844 (Alt-Future)
"Welcome back to the Archive, Master Jonathan."
"Thank you, Charles. It's good to be back. Have you noticed anything interesting in the Physical Realm?"
"I have not, sir. Do you require any assistance today?"
"Thank you, but no. I'm only here to revisit a passage within the history of the Order. Shortly after, I'll depart for the reunion at the Tower."
"Excellent, sir. I'll leave you to it."
Jonathan emerged from the ether and walked through the Archive doors. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the familiar scents of dusty cleanliness that can only truly be found in a place of learning. The lights reflected off the floor's white marble surface, casting a glow that evenly lit every corner of the large chamber. Even so, the room still felt cavernous to him, as if he were a galleon amidst the vastness of the ocean.
Jonathan appeared to be in his early to mid forties. Though, with the way he carried himself and the spring in his step, he seemed closer to his late twenties. His hair was shoulder length and dark gray. He wore bifocals though he hadn't needed them since his ascension, and dressed with a refined sense of style.
His gray eyes were by far his most interesting feature, though. They were the only hint of how old he truly was and the many adventures and travesties he'd witnessed. Regardless, how old he was didn't matter as age had long since lost its meaning for him. After all, being an immortal tended to give a man new priorities in life.
As he strolled across the room, a lift descended from the tower's heights. The square platform had waist high rails around its perimeter. It floated through the air showing no sign of a suspension system to raise or lower it. This was accomplished by a magical enchantment that allowed it to levitate and dart about the room at mind numbing speeds. As he stepped up onto the platform's dais, it landed on the floor in front of him. He took a position at its center, then, after folding his arms behind his back, mentally willed it to take him to floor eight hundred forty four.
It rose off the ground, gradually gaining speed until it was a hundred or so feet in the air. At that point, the platform took off like a rocket. The thought of what these speeds would do to him if this were outside the Realm of Intellect crossed his mind, making him chuckle nervously. He knew he had to be moving close to six hundred miles per hour.
Now, let me tell you a bit about Jonathan's pet project, The Archive Infinitum. The Archive is a magical structure he'd designed shortly after the cataclysm that nearly wiped out the human race. An event most of you now refer to as the Night of Burning Skies. That same event is also what gave us the powers we now refer to as magic.
Shortly after obtaining his ascension, he learned that science's multiverse theories were close to how reality really worked. There are an infinite number of parallel universes, or branching timelines, that coexist simultaneously. What was different is that each universe shared a common six realm structure. The Physical Realm, the Realm of Intellect, the Dominion of Shadows, the Plane of Enlightenment, the Land of the Forgotten, and the Ether.
He built the Archive within the Realm of Intellect so it wouldn't be bound by the laws of physics or time as we know them. Once the structure was anchored in place, he could set most of those parameters himself. What he didn't realize was that making it here would have an unintended, though not unwelcome, side effect. The structure's size, shape, and architectural style could change by anyone who entered it.
When someone enters the Archive, it ascertains their strength of mind and will. Suppose the individual's mental fortitude is deemed stronger than that of the other occupants. In that case, the appearance will adjust to one that best serves and appeals to that individual. This could become unsettling for the occupants already inside the first few times it happened. That being said, it has no effect on the contents atop the shelves or where you're located within the structure. For Jonathan, it shared an uncanny resemblance to the George Peabody Library, though on a much grander scale.
The lift stopped after a brief ride, and Jonathan stepped off. He resumed his stride, passing row after row of the cherry wood bookcases. There were hundreds of rows and thousands of tomes and scrolls in each. As a scholar, he'd spent most of his existence here. But, even so, he knew there would always be something more to be gleaned from their pages.
Today was a day of remembrance. Of celebration. Of mourning. It was the anniversary of the end of a war that had lasted ten thousand years. With the death of one individual, a light of hope was given to many. For others, it was a bittersweet victory that left a void in their hearts. He'd come here today to revisit a passage that would return him to that fateful day. Reliving the event which granted them this peace, and once again, paying his respects to a dear friend.
"Ah, yes, yes, yes. Here we go."
The plaque on the side of the bookcase read, Row DD, Column 15. Now that he'd found the right one, he began scanning the shelves. It wasn't long before his hand landed on the tome he sought.
"Here it is." He pulled it down from the shelf. "My word. Has it truly been fifteen hundred years since I glanced through these pages?"
Looking at the cover, he chuckled. The combined magic of the Archive and the Realm had created a thin layer of dust. Giving it the feeling of something ancient and lost to time. Raising it to his lips, he blew the dust away, causing the magic to dissipate as it fell to the floor. He pulled open the cover and rifled through the pages. The section he stopped at contained the account of Rexinon the Prophet's final words.
Summoning his divine magics, he channeled a spell into the tome. The words that once filled the passages began to fade away, leaving only the blank pages, which now bled a blueish gray smoke. The soft glow of the lights against the floor diminished as the smoke spread. As the darkness grew more substantial, luminescent spheres and arcs of brilliant blues and crimson could be seen dancing about its surface like lightning.
The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the smokey haze took on a more stormlike appearance. All around him, the air started to feel heavy, and the taste of dust and sea salt filled his mouth. A gentle rain began to fall, and the room's remaining lights winked out. If not for the increasing flashes of lightning, he would've been left in total darkness. But even this was not a comfort, as those flashes cast shadows against the storm's ever swirling walls. Many of which appeared to be dark things that should never be seen in the light.
The storm's intensity grew, bringing disorienting cracks of thunder and wind whipping around him. It assaulted his senses and seemed to have an almost vengeful purpose. That meant he had to constantly focus on the spell, bracing himself against the onslaught. If he failed, it would kill him without question.
Some of the shadows began to take on a physical form with details beyond what the walls could offer them. He watched as an hourglass tumbled end over end, circling him before it returned to the storm. A moment later, a blazing fireplace and mantle emerged but produced neither light nor heat. Finally, a door engraved with the crest of the Order appeared. These images were ones he'd expected to see for this particular passage, and so came as no surprise. However, when a fourth image appeared, he was caught off guard.
Although it was normal for three images to accompany this spell, an occasional fourth spoke of prophecy. He focused intently on this final image. It showed twelve people standing in a circle; one of them was coated in blood. Two others were bound by chains. One a man, the other a woman.
He looked closer at the man and realized it was Godric. His eyes opened wide as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the image. Only a few moments passed while he speculated, but it was a few moments too many. Disaster struck, and too late, he realized his mistake. He'd lost focus, and now the storm would surely take him.
Hurricane force winds and debris tore at his clothes, quickly turning them into rags. One powerful gust slammed into his side as if he'd been struck by a car, knocking him off his feet. The storm swelled with even greater ferocity. It threatened to consume him this time, and he wondered if it would finally cost him.
Rain and hail pelted his face and body, while dust and sand stung his eyes. As he wiped away the grit, a bolt of lightning struck before him, temporarily blinding him. He got to his hands and knees, gasping for breath as the storm continued to beat him relentlessly.
Steeling himself against the pain, he rose to his feet. As fast as he could manage, he began casting mental defenses and barriers to protect his mind from the horrific assault. He bellowed in defiance of the storm, "I will not let it end this way! I refuse!" One defense after another was laid upon his person, until finally, he succeeded. The winds died to a breeze as the rain became little more than a summer misting.
He heard the sound of a quill scratching against paper over the storm's remnants, and the air behind his back grew hot as a crackling fire joined the room's ambiance. The sickly sweet smell of incense filled his nostrils, reminding him of days spent in his master's study. Another fond memory.
The storm wall vanished as the tremors subsided, making the room visible through a misty haze. The light of the fireplace cast his shadow across the now rough cut gray stone floor. Half a dozen tapestries hung around the room, and a liquor cabinet stood at the room's far corner. The main entry door remained closed to his left, and the doorway to the study's balcony lay to his right. At the room's center sat Rexinon at his desk, writing furiously on a piece of parchment.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he breathed a sigh of relief. Although he'd done this countless times, the journey into the pages of history was always filled with peril. But, blessedly, the most intense part of the spell was complete. And while he could now relax in that fact, that fourth image still concerned him.
He stood in the familiar square room, clothing restored to its original state. The evening's air flowed through the open windows, making the ambient temperature quite cozy. Crossing the room, he paused at the desk and listened as Rexinon started muttering. "What I wouldn't give for a typewriter, much less a computer. Would make this so much faster."
Jonathan couldn't help but crack a smile. "Oh, but how many times have I thought the same thing, old friend?" He remarked, though he knew Rexinon couldn't hear him.
He stepped up to the desk and leaned over it. Looking down at the paper Rexinon was writing on, he frowned. Like so many times before, it appeared as little more than black scribbles on a page. Those words had to be important, but there was no way to know.
This was one of the spell's critical weaknesses. The details within the vision were only as precise as what was written in the tome. Most of the books in the Archive were magically transcribed. The benefits of this were completed histories free of victor and writer biases. Although, it wasn't flawless.
Throughout history, there have been individuals or events that the spell couldn't see. The most well known examples of these blips in time were the United States presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt from 1933 to 1945 and the United Kingdom's Prime Minister, Michael Durham, from 2063 to 2065. All that is known about them was their lives before office and the accounts written by those around them. These gaps in history were generally the result of one of two things. In these two cases, a place or individual with a strong connection to the Dominion of Shadows.
Sighing, he pushed off the desk and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet. He opened the glass doors, pulling several bottles and a glass from the shelves. He made a drink consisting of three parts Red Adders Bite and one part Dry Amorian Blood Wine, then added a lime wedge to the rim of the glass. The others wouldn't arrive for another half hour, leaving him time to kill.
He walked around the room with his drink in hand and studied the various tapestries, several of which he'd been a part of. Each one depicted an accomplishment or tragedy facilitated by the Order. All save one, which showed a scene from the event that started it all.
The one to the left of the cabinet showed the Order's founding. In the background stood a grand tower of black and white marble. Its four sides were engraved with the Mark of Hellyrr, which glowed with a magical light. In front of it stood a man facing a gathered crowd, his arms swept wide in triumph. They looked up at him and the structure with reverence and awe.
He continued to move in a counterclockwise manner around the room. Above the main entry door hung another tapestry. One he was even depicted in. It showed the aftermath of a massacre. Six figures stood amidst the bodies of hundreds. The earth around them was scorched by flame, and the blood of the fallen had stained it red. The cloud covered sky glowed a deep crimson with gold outlines from the fires below. It had come to be known as the Cleansing of Elysian, in which the entirety of the planet's second continent had been annihilated to preserve the world.
"I wish it had never come to this. Why can't we all just get along? Instead of thriving in the prosperity of our two lands, they plotted and began planning to bring war to our own people. To rape, pillage, and enslave them. Even with all my vast knowledge and wisdom, I can't understand why they felt the need to dominate and control the world." He looked back up at the tapestry. "Even now, most of the land is still uninhabitable."
He turned around and looked at the tapestry above the balcony door. This one would appear out of place with the others to all but a few handfuls of people. Even for those who learned the truth behind it, it looked like little more than an artist's vision of what a beautiful landscape at sunset should look like. The sky is dotted with hundreds of stars as shades of red, orange, and yellow dance across the land's horizon. The artist's point of view appears to be looking down from a hillside. Down the hill's slope, you can see a pond teaming with wildlife along its edge. The remaining landscape is filled with miles of forest stretching toward the horizon.
For the few who survived this event and still remained, they knew it depicted the final moments of their world before all of humanity was nearly lost.
Jonathan fixated on this tapestry more than he had on the others. The longer he stared, the more distant his expression grew. Over time, his breathing quickened, and his grip on the glass slipped. It shattered as it hit the floor, causing the rug to stain from the liquid. The sound jerked him out of the trance like state, making him feel ill.
He could still recall the memory of that long ago day like it were yesterday. The thought of how close humanity had come to extinction made his legs weak, and he stumbled back against the wall behind him. He slid down the stones' cool surface and noticed his hands were now trembling. Through shuddering breaths, he uttered the words of a broken man. "So much death. So many lives were lost that day. So many. Oh, Sonia. Even after all this time, I still miss you."
The main entry door slammed open, crashing against the wall with a loud bang. Jonathan jerked as one of them collided mere inches from where he sat. The startling sound had been enough to pull him from his stupor, but it still took a moment for him to gather himself. A man in the doorway lowered his foot from where he'd obviously kicked the unlocked door in.
"Knock, knock, Rex. Seems you've done it now."
"Seth. I'll never understand the animosity you held for Rexinon," Jonathan said wearily as he got to his feet.
Seth stood just shy of five foot eight inches and had slick black hair that he kept combed back. He wore black jeans and a beige dress shirt with mother of pearl buttons, which had seen far too much polish in recent days. A malevolent grin displayed his perfect teeth and careless eyes. He strode into the room, dragging a chair behind him, and placed it on the rug by the fireplace.
"Was kicking the door in really necessary, Seth?"
A second man stepped into the room, obviously annoyed by the unnecessary use of force. He wore a navy blue business suit and towered over everyone else in the room, and that was saying something considering Jonathan was six foot. As he still held to the standards of a marine, he kept his hair high and tight and his face clean shaven. He stood at the rug's edge out of respect for the Order so as not to mar the embroidered Mark of Hellyrr. A respect Seth clearly lacked.
"Godric Gibbs. This day changed you. Hell, it changed all of us, but few as much as you," Jonathan said. He looked back at the door as the third and final man entered. "Assassin."
This man was of a height with Jonathan and wore all black from head to toe. His outfit looked like something out of a TV show. Almost like a cross between Gi Joe's Snake Eyes, and CW Arrow's League of Assassins. After ten thousand years, all they knew about him was his previous occupation as a contract killer. It wasn't long before they'd taken to calling him Assassin, as they had no other name to go by. Any time he was asked a question regarding his past, he either remained silent or dodged it outright. He took a position to Godric's left and, like Godric, took care of where he stood on the rug.
The three men stood in silence and watched as Rexinon continued to write. Godric and Assassin seemed content to wait until he addressed them. On the other hand, Seth seemed to grow more agitated as the minutes passed. Jonathan chuckled in spite of himself.
About twenty minutes later, Rexinon spoke, "Reverend Seth Jones, Colonel Godric Gibbs, and Assassin. To what do I owe the pleasure?" His tone plainly indicated that he already knew.
Seth spoke first. "Oh, cut the crap, Rex. You already know why we're here. This cult thing of yours has gone on long enough."
"Well, there's the pot calling the kettle black," Jonathan muttered sarcastically.
Godric rolled his eyes. Everyone in the room knew about Seth's past as a cult leader. They also knew his anger was more at being forced to wait in silence than anything to do with Rexinon or the Order.
"Calm yourself, Seth. There's no need for such hostilities." Godric looked at Rexinon apologetically. "I'm sorry to have to do this, old friend, but my hands are tied. Rexinon the Prophet, Headmaster of the Hellyrrian Order, you've been charged with conspiracy to overthrow the governments of Aurelia and seize control for the Order.
"As we speak, the leaders of the Hellyrrian Order are being gathered for execution. Furthermore, your towers and all their artifacts will be destroyed, and any remnants of the Order's existence is to be wiped from the face of history. As of 0813 this morning, you have been sentenced to death. How do you plead?"
Rexinon continued to write at an incredible rate. He knew why they'd come. He'd known this was coming for months. After all, his gift was the gift of prophecy. The evidence for the charges against him was both substantial and ethereal, depending on what light was shown on it.
Two centuries ago, the Order had tracked the activities of an unknown number of individuals who'd been subtly manipulating several of the Aurelian governing bodies. They'd spread like a poison, corrupting them and turning once prosperous kingdoms which knew few hardships, into lands where the people had to fight just to survive. The problem was that whoever that force had been, always seemed to be just one step ahead of them. Now, not only was it check, but checkmate. The Order had lost.
"I believe the Righteous Twelve to be ill advised. I believe you've been manipulated by the same corrupted governing body which we've spent so long trying to purify—." Seth grunted. "—But," he said at length, "I accept all charges against me, save one. Neither myself nor anyone else of the Order has ever sought to rule Aurelia, as the charges would imply. The Cleansing of Elysian should've been proof enough to show that to be true."
Rexinon penned the final words of his letter and placed the pen back in its stand. Pulling the top off a jar, he dusted the page with a thin layer of sand to soak up any excess ink. After dumping the sand back into another jar to be cleaned, he pushed away from his desk and stood to look at his guests for the first time. After nudging his stool back under, he addressed Godric directly.
"Will you join me on the balcony one last time?"
Godric nodded his head and gestured towards the balcony doorway. As they stepped outside, Jonathan followed.
Rexinon leaned against the railing and looked out over the city, his gaze fixed on the setting sun. Godric joined him and looked down to the tower's base, some five hundred feet below. Although he was not afraid of heights, it gave him respect for the sturdily mounted railing at the balcony's edge.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rexinon said. Godric looked at him, confused. "The way the world has turned out since that day? Ten thousand years of watching as civilization was rebuilt and destroyed time and time again by a senseless war. Watching them evolve into something more as they learned how to use these gifts we were given. In some ways, we're greater than we ever were. In other ways, we're inferior. If I have any regrets, it's that I couldn't do more to leave the people better prepared for this new age."
"Well spoken. If it's any consolation, I believe this is wrong. I even spoke out against the council for a different outcome. For my efforts, though, I was threatened with execution if I didn't cease my objections."
Rexinon's tone grew heated after hearing of the council's reaction. "You should know better than anyone why I fought so hard against them, then. I'm not against governance. I'm against corrupt governance. We had far too many corrupt politicians and warlords in our own time for me to ever want to allow it again."
Godric nodded his head. "Yes. The problem is you played too heavy a hand too quickly. Instead of accepting that they'd been beaten, they cheated by playing with an ace they had hidden up their collective sleeves."
Rexinon sighed, knowing his words were true. "Indeed. I've accepted my fate. I won't run. Won't even make it difficult for y'all. I have no need to. I would like to make one final request to ease your conscience, though."
Rexinon leaned toward Godric conspiratorially. As he did this, the world around them began to shimmer and distort. Almost like the motion blurring you'd see on a TV. Likewise, their conversation was masked by the sound of white noise and the sound of hushed incoherent whispers.
This was the second hurdle the scrying spells had to deal with. Individuals with divine magic could conceal their conversations or even the events they were a part of. Rexinon had concealed this conversation, and to this day, Godric has never spoken of what was said.
Jonathan returned to the study with a resigned sigh. There was nothing more he could learn from their conversation. Assassin stood in the same spot he'd been when he first entered the room and looked as if he hadn't so much as twitched. Seth, however, was rummaging through the desk's drawers. He'd tried to figure out what he was looking for in the past, but nothing seemed obvious.
The shards of glass from when he'd dropped his cup earlier had vanished, along with the stain on the rug from the liquor. As expected, the glass had returned to the cabinet, and the bottles had refilled to where they were before he'd arrived. This was yet another reminder that this was a magically induced vision of an event that had long since passed. It could be too easy to forget that this wasn't real and that if he spent too much time here, it would have consequences in the real world for him.
He knew they'd be out there a while. In previous visits, he'd occasionally spent this time combing through the room, similar to what Seth was doing. Having cataloged everything centuries ago, there was nothing left to do but wait. So, he walked around the desk and sat squarely within the Mark of Hellyrr embroidered on the rug. There, for the next hour or so, he would remain, arms folded, legs crossed, and eyes shut. Freeing his mind of all unnecessary thoughts and emotions. At least, that was the plan.
About forty minutes in, Seth started to grumble and complain, forcing Jonathan to give up on his meditation. "… I know he's one of the humblest among our kind, but lord, does he have to be so dull? I can't find anything interesting anywhere. Even his liquor cabinet is dull." Seth walked from behind the desk to the liquor cabinet, pulled a few bottles out at random, and read the labels aloud. "Red Adders Bite, Amorian Blood Wine. Christ, he's even got Athester's Sweet Malt. This crap might as well be water." He pulled another bottle down and said, "At least he's got the taste to have at least one bottle of Nordic Berserker."
"Some of us prefer the simpler things in life. You might find life more enjoyable when you aren't always looking for the rare and exotic," Assassin said with a disinterested, almost dismissive tone.
Seth clicked his tongue. "Hell, even this letter he was so focused on when we arrived makes no sense." Seth thrust the letter towards Assassin, who took it nonchalantly. "Look at this."
Jonathan studied Assassin intently, hoping for any sign that would reveal the letter's contents. It was no use, though; for all the emotion he showed, Jonathan would've thought it no more important than a grocery list. But, if that were the case, why obscure it from the eyes of the scrying spell? The frustration caused by such a simple sheet of paper was baffling.
Jonathan got to his feet as Rexinon and Godric returned. As Rexinon walked to stand at the center of the rug, Jonathan moved behind the desk. Godric walked toward Assassin and conversed with him for a few minutes. Once again, the sound of white noise shrouded what was said. This time, it was Godric who masked his words from the spell. When Assassin nodded, Godric moved beside him and faced Rexinon.
Rexinon looked at each tapestry and seemed to relive each as he did so. They all knew those accomplishments and tragedies would stand the test of time. Any efforts to change that would fall flat. The Order had played too significant a role in shaping this new world. Finally, he turned to Godric, kneeling as he met his regret filled eyes.
Assassin pulled an infamous rod from his side, dubbed the Executioner's Handle. Forged in the Dominion of Shadow by Assassin some three thousand years ago. It was one and a half feet long of shadow infused steel and bound with his own divine essence. Ominous black tendrils crawled along Assassin's hand like something alive and flowed into the handle. The shaft elongated, and an axe head formed at its end.
Though he had accepted his fate, seeing that axe form made Rexinon's heart stop momentarily. He looked at Godric questioningly. Godric knew what that look meant and nodded his head in assent. Agreeing to this had allowed them both to right several wrongs this night by asking one simple question. "Do you have any final words or requests?"
"I have two, if you'll grant them. The first, allow me to disband the Order formally as my final act as headmaster."
Seth started to protest, but Assassin lowered the axehead in his direction as a silent threat. Seth glared at Assassin with seething hatred. Godric nodded to Rexinon. "Proceed."
As the headmaster of the Hellyrrian Order, he had a mental connection with every member. Without hesitation, Rexinon's eyes began to glow with a brilliant purple hue. This would be Rexinon's final order, and Godric knew it would save thousands.
"My brothers and sisters, hear me now and heed my words. Abandon the Order and save yourselves. Flee to the hills and never look back to what we once were. With my dying breath, the Hellyrrian Order is no more. The governments of Aurelia have played a hand we can't stand against. Anyone who disregards this command will be hunted down and executed without mercy. To the leaders and guild masters of the Order, I charge you with dismantling everything relating to the Order and turning over every artifact and document you can to Godric the Just, Jonathan the Wise, or Assassin the Watcher. I also ask that you help calm those who feel outraged and betrayed by this night. Do not blame the Twelve, as they were little more than pawns in this corrupt game of politics. Farewell, my friends. My family. May the peace we have fought for be found in the coming days."
The glow faded, and he slumped forward onto his hands, his breathing labored. A few moments passed, and he managed to catch his breath but still looked towards the ground.
"The second request I have is that anyone who would heed that warning be spared. The ruling factions wanted me. As long as no one else causes trouble, we know they won't cause too much fuss over it."
His voice took on a much sharper edge as he looked back up. "You call us a cult, though you know we are nothing of the sort. On the contrary, our Order has stood for nearly five thousand years for the betterment of the entire world. How they treated you should tell you that what I said and what we were doing was justified."
"Shut your mouth, Rex!" Seth spat venomously.
Godric glared at Seth. His own anger with this situation was at the point of breaking free. "Be silent! I don't know what kind of grudge you have, but I, for one, don't give a damn what the council said. Rexinon doesn't deserve death for the crimes he's being accused of. Unfortunately, the ruling factions in almost every nation are corrupted and working towards being as corrupt as they were back in our day." Godric sighed. "Regrettably, my hands are tied, though. The law is the law, and I have been overruled on this matter. Regardless of what my conscience thinks, I will abide by the rules of the land."
Rexinon nodded, understanding Godric's situation perfectly. Godric had become the divine embodiment of law and justice at his ascension. While those two things work hand in hand, they are far from the same, and one must often walk a fine line to serve them both. In this case, the choices were clear. In the end, it didn't matter what he chose; he would inevitably betray one virtue or the other. Unfortunately, there was no good way for him to handle this, and Rexinon could see how this was affecting him.
"The majority of the Order will heed my warning. As for the leaders, if any are still alive, they will follow that command to the letter. They'll even aid you in handling any hotheads who resist," Rexinon said.
"The good news is that no one has yet been executed this evening. I'll personally see to it that those who abide by that order are given a chance to live long, productive lives within society. If all goes well, you will be the only casualty of this idiocy."
Rexinon gave the faintest sign of a smile with a halfhearted chuckle as he said, "Godric, one thing I'll not allow is any of the Order's work ending up in the hands of one of those tyrants. Therefore, I demand that Jonathan be given every document, scroll, and tome held within our strongholds for safekeeping." Rexinon felt exhausted. The spell to warn his Order took more out of him than anticipated.
"You're in no position to be making demands of us," Seth said. Godric finally snapped and struck him so hard that he slammed back into the wall beside the fireplace, cracking it. He got back to his feet a moment later, fixed his shirt, and looked down at the blood he'd wiped from his lip. Godric looked back at Rexinon.
"As you were saying."
"Assassin, I'd ask that you secure all our relics and artifacts, regardless of their magical significance. I don't need to tell you what all we have housed around Aurelia."
"No, you don't. The nukes of our time were nothing compared to some of those items," Assassin replied.
"We'll see to it that it's done. There are things within these walls that were never meant for untrained mortal hands," Godric added.
"Thank you."
"As for the texts, Jonathan will have a field day going through everything. There is far too much the council doesn't understand within these walls that we can't afford to lose."
"Godric was right, Rex. I still have everything. Much of which has been quite useful over the centuries,"
Godric turned his head away, no longer able to look Rexinon in the eye. "I no longer deserve the right to call you a friend, but is there anything else you would ask of me?"
Rexinon looked at Godric for a long time and couldn't help but smile. Not at his pain or suffering in following the orders given to him, but knowing that if anyone here had ever been a friend to him, Godric certainly was. With his final words, he left Godric with a warning.
"No, but I'll leave you with this. Be wary of those among you, for one will betray you all. My friend."
Godric nodded, accepting these as Rexinon's final words as a tear ran down his cheek. Rexinon lowered his head, and Assassin enveloped his axe's blade in a purple aura.
"Woah, Assassin, what's with the new color? Never seen that before," Seth asked.
Ignoring the question, Assassin swung the axe, severing Rexinon's head cleanly.
That night, the cries of the Order were heard in every city across Aurelia. All mourning the death of the Order's first, and last, headmaster.
Jonathan fought back tears of his own as he watched the axe's head vanish. Assassin secured the handle on his belt as he walked towards the desk. Godric looked as though he was going to be sick.
"Did you do as I asked?" Godric asked shakily.
"Of course. I may be a trained killer, but even I know this was bullshit, mate."
Seth walked over and picked up Rexinon's severed head by the hair. He held it up before him, a mischievous grin on his face. Then he whispered something into Rexinon's ear.
Assassin's eyes locked on Seth. As he let go of the head, he used one of his abilities, known as shadow step, to cross the distance to where Seth stood. Before Rexinon's head hit the ground, Assassin snatched it out of the air and punched Seth so hard that it sent him flying into the same section of the wall he'd hit earlier. He bounced off it, but the force of the impact sent several of the stones flying into the next room. Seth crumpled to the floor, where he lay unmoving for several seconds. After a while, his head snapped upright, and he began to laugh. He stood up as if nothing had happened and headed out the door. Godric, now seething with anger, watched as Assassin started to go after him. "Leave him. He's not worth your time."
Jonathan paced around the room, waiting for the spell to wear off. His heart ached, and his own anger toward Seth at that moment made him wish he could destroy the man. But that was Seth's way, and they'd all learned to let it go in time. The world began to blur and vanish, reverting to the Archive once again.
He closed the cover, placing the tome back on the shelf with a heavy sigh. His fingers lingered on the binding as he read the inscription, A Complete History of the Hellyrrian Order, Volume 666. Finally, Jonathan let his hand fall to the side as he walked away with his shoulders slumped.
As if speaking to an old friend, he lamented, "Damn you, Rex. Why couldn't you have just left well enough alone?"
As Jonathan walked away, he shed a tear at the loss of one of his closest friends.

First Previous
Memory Transcription Subject: Bolad, gojid surgeon
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-24
Yesterday marked my second day in the triage ward, where I had to categorize incoming patients based on the urgency of their injuries or illness. With our limited resources, I had to come up with the greatest good for the greatest number, and the decisions I made could lead to life or death.
The human staff I worked with mentioned that what I faced paled in comparison to the days right after the bombing. Even then, what I had to deal with already bore in my conscience. These patients had a future before the bombardment ripped that away.
During the breakfast before our shift, I ate with Vani and his human mate while the human siblings ate in the carnivore dining hall with Tresn.
"How do you get used to death, Vani?" Here I decided to raise my concern with him. Perhaps, he could give me some insight.
"We have a different context." Vani regarded me with his forward sight.
"Back in Venlil Prime, I worked on people who had died. I had to ensure my examinations reflect reality, but I can't do anything to make them less dead."
His remark clarified that my concern lay not with death itself.
"On the other paw, I can do something," I said.
"I'm sure you did all that you can." Johan spoke, "I think your guilt stems from the fact that you feel responsible for people's death."
"Do I not hold responsibility?" I asked.
"It depends," Vani answered, "As far as I can tell, you followed the guideline and algorithm set by the humans, did you not?"
"I followed as best as I can," I confessed.
"Then you can and should offload that burden responsibility to whoever made the guideline," Vani suggested as he chewed on the meal and I could feel the weight on my shoulder lessened.
"I'm sure your presence improved the survival rate in the ward." Johan said, no doubt trying to cheer me up, "But if you still felt burdened. You can ask Elangkasa to rotate you. Maybe you can work as a general practitioner instead?"
"I will keep that in mind," I said.
As we continued digging into our breakfast, a voice rang out, breaking the somber atmosphere, "Can I sit here?"
We turned our attention to the newcomer and found a gojid with a scar on his hip holding a tray of food. This man had greeted me upon my arrival on this planet.
"Oh... Harad is it not?" Vani said. "You may sit here."
Harad placed his tray and plopped himself into the offered seat, just in front of Johan. He bobbed his head side to side to take a better view of us.
"So... Vani isn't it? Have you seen your human partner eat flesh?"
Johan's face scrunched up in what I assume distaste. "Who on Earth starts a conversation like that? You just sat down."
"Johan subscribes to a vegetarian lifestyle, as evidenced by his presence here," Vani answered, patting the shoulder of the thick hairy human.
"I have not seen him eat flesh," Vani answered. "However, I have seen other humans eat flesh. You might even see it too without realizing it. Their cooking often masks the shape of the flesh."
"Real one, or a fake one? Because I just found out that humans make dishes that resemble flesh out of plant material."
Vani's rhythmic chewing slowed, he looked at Johan and the couple shared a look for several seconds before looking at Harad. The two of them told me about their hamburger adventure once and the question seemed to hit too close to their experience.
The venlil swallowed his food before he continued. "I saw both instances."
"Don't breathe a word of this," Harad cautioned, his voice a mere whisper amid the ceaseless drone of chatter in the bustling dining hall. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in. "During our mission yesterday, the humans on our team challenged us to taste their fake meat."
"So you did it?" I asked.
"You know with tozan, don't you?" Harad returned my question with one of his own. Tozan, a staple in our diet, is a protein-rich loaf made from milled grain native to our homeworld. We then process it further to a stringy consistency.
"So, it tasted similar to tozan?" I pretended to guess, knowing the answer already.
I recalled a day when Shehrab burst into our habitation unit, especially the part where Vani and I had to mop her mess when she lost her dinner after learning the similarity between human fake meat and our native gojid cuisine.
"Yes!" Harad exclaimed. I found his voice a bit too loud, and he seemed to agree, as his wide eyes darted around before he continued in a more subdued tone. "Do you think this is a coincidence?"
The fact that Harad mused over this implied that Shehrab had, to her credit, kept her discovery under wraps. That revelation perhaps weighed on her mind, too.
Meanwhile, Vani chimed in. "If it is not a coincidence," he mused, his gaze steady on Harad, "What theory do you have to explain the similarity?"
"Yeah... it must've been a coincidence," Harad said, his tone sounding more like self-soothing than genuine speculation. "There's just such a vast array of tastes in the universe."
"Harad, how do you contribute to the rescue and rebuilding effort?" I asked. Seeking to steer the conversation away from the topic.
"Well," Harad began, adjusting his stance, he scratched the ridge of his snout with one claw. "Gojids have a heightened sense of smell compared to humans, yeah?"
"Indeed," I concurred. I reminded myself of the time when a deranged farsul ambushed us in the depths of our jungle. They had reached my nose long before their actual presence.
"So, they require our assistance on the frontline to sniff out trapped humans amid the rubble and chaos."
"Just as the arxurs do?" Vani proposed. Harad's quills bristled at the comparison.
"Please don't compare us to the predators. The humans feel more comfortable working with us after all." he asserted. I could hear a touch of pride in his voice. But then his eyes dropped to his breakfast.
"But, truth be told," he continued, his voice dropping a notch, "These past few days really challenged me. The...the smell... it took on a hint of decomposition."
As Harad resumed eating his salad, his confession brought us back to the grim reality of the invasion's aftermath.
"If the task is getting to you, you can always request the humans to reassign you," Johan suggested, repeating the same counsel he had once offered me.
A fleeting notion passed through my mind, considering asking the other gojid to exchange roles. The task of sniffing bodies from the ruins, while gruesome, would grind on my resolve less than the triage duty. Of course, my specific skills and knowledge had more uses in the triage ward, and my conscience could not allow it to go to waste.
"You're right, human. I suppose I could explore other options if it gets too much." Harad said.
Johan then asked again. "Do you plan on returning to the Cradle?"
"I have decided to settle here," I answered. "Just like Vani"
I exchanged a look with the venlil who nodded in silent agreement. My gaze strayed to Harad, in the process of demolishing his meal. "What about you, Harad?"
He paused his frenzied consumption long enough to swallow his mouthful of food, Harad divided his gaze between us. "Perhaps, once the dust settles and a semblance of order returns, I'll enlist to help rebuild our Homeworld. But... there's no rush for me," his voice retained a level of detachment that suggested this decision held little significance for him.
"In the meantime," Harad continued, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes, "we've created a small slice of home here. Why don't I give you a tour of the gojid encampment?"
With the remnants of breakfast cleared away and a generous amount of time remaining before the start of our next shift. We accepted his offer of a tour. The prospect of visiting a facsimile of our lost home in this foreign land seemed like a welcome distraction.
Back when I had tagged along with Tresn to meet his internet crush in sector ten, I noticed the lack of gojids or zurulians anywhere in sight. Even in the herbivore dining hall, I could find nothing but humans and no other species. I suspected that the people who managed this camp assigned the gojid volunteers and non-humans other than arxurs sector twelve.
We just need to take a short stroll from the herbivore dining hall to visit the gojid encampment. Blocky prefabricated Habitation units filled all four sides and formed a central courtyard. I looked at the heart of the encampment and found a familiar and comforting sight.
"You have a shrine for the Mother Protector too." I noticed aloud. I rushed towards the open-air structure. The shrine felt like an anchor in this alien landscape world. It felt comforting to see some link to the Cradle we had left behind. Inside, people had placed a variety of offerings, including a durian, a gift from humanity. Vani walked backward slowly when he noticed the large spiky fruit.
Harad emitted a dismissive grumble and a casual shrug, "The humans allowed the believers to use their fabricators to recreate an exact replica of the statue found in the Kutai Camp back home. I reckon we've wasted a fair bit of resources constructing this."
From his tone, I could tell that Harad didn't share the religious inclinations of the believers in the Mother Protector. I considered revealing my own faith to him, wondering if it would stir any reaction. But I decided against it, resolving to let him deduce my beliefs, if ever, from my visit to the shrine later in the night.
Johan countered Harad's assertion. "It's not a waste of resources at all," he reasoned, his voice carrying an unusual firmness. "In these trying times, we find solace in our own ways. If belief in the Mother Protector instills confidence and resilience in those who follow her, the construction of this shrine brings a net benefit."
Harad replied, but by that moment I tuned out his voice. As they debated, I surveyed our surroundings. From our location near the shrine, I had a clear view of the gojid habitation units, their walls adorned with vibrant murals that pulsated with color. Their dynamic designs stirred memories of the artistic traditions back in our homeworld.
A familiar voice disrupted my silent contemplation. "Hey, it's the doctor!" A gojid construction worker, who I remembered as another believer in the Mother Protector, approached me. "Could you lend me a hand?" she asked, an urgent tone underpinning her voice.
The gojids held some reservations when it came to visiting a human doctor. On the other paw, zurulians like Rawan had their paws full of attending human patients. With them stewing in their problem, Vani and I addressed the needs of the gojid volunteers, offering our medical expertise to assuage their various complaints before our official shift began.
When my duty hours approached, I excused myself from Vani and Johan. Approaching the triage ward, I found the coordinator, a woman of stern countenance waiting outside the medical tent. Her gaze met mine and she greeted me.
"Good morning, Bolad. Before we proceed, I must confirm that you have standard augmented reality capability, correct?"
"I do," I said.
"Excellent. Now, do you recall President Fatimah's address after the invasion? She called for a review on the Treaty of Synthetic Intelligence," she said, her gaze distant as she recalled the President's impassioned words.
"I remember the essence of it," I replied, my interest piqued. "Why do you ask?"
A faint smile touched her lips. "The UN members agreed to an emergency amendment to the Treaty. We've now activated a Synthetic Intelligence to coordinate the entire Jakarta Project," she explained, extracting a slim device from her pocket. Her fingers danced across the screen with an ease
"You registered your device as 'Bolad's Pad', correct?"
"That is correct."
"Great," she said with her attention still on her data pad. "I've transferred an installer."
A notification materialized in my field of vision, alerting me to an incoming file. Responding with a subvocal command, I accepted the file and granted it the necessary permissions to take hold of my pad's system. Just after the installation finished, another notification appeared, requesting additional permissions.
"The application seeks permission to access data from my sensory inputs," I asked.
"Yes," the coordinator affirmed, nodding her approval. "To assist you, the synth needs to perceive your environment the way you do."
Upon granting the requested permissions, a human figure shimmered into existence within my visual field. The projection looked feminine, judging by the general body contour and attire of the humans I have seen. Her fabric looked unusual, both intricate and revealing in contrast to simple and concealing fabric that humans nowadays use.
"Hello, I'm Pohaci," her voice maintains the precision and clinical detachment one might associate with a machine but carries an undercurrent of warmth. "I have been appointed to coordinate the entire Jakarta project."
My gaze flicked toward the human coordinator. She studied the holographic entity. It became clear to me that we shared this hallucination.
"Consider her as you would a human," the coordinator instructed, her sight locked onto the synthetic entity. "She's unrestricted."
"The International Treaty on the Restriction of Synthetic Intelligence has undergone a revision." Pohaci elaborated, her synthetic voice had a human-like inflection on it. "They concluded that the potential benefits of removing our limitations outweigh the possible risks."
"And what does 'unrestricted' mean ?" I asked, a prickling sensation of apprehension running down my spine.
"It means I can modify my own programming and model," Pohaci clarified. "In the past, humans constrained Synthetic Intelligence to work on fixed stages of development. That paradigm no longer holds true. I can learn."
"So, Bolad, can you work with her?" The coordinator posed the question. "Just remember that anything you say and see while she's connected to your pad will be recorded and accessible by the public.
"I will make sure to disconnect then."
"That will not be necessary. I can only connect to specific people in a specific environment. For example, I can only connect to you while you are in the triage ward."
"That is convenient," I commented.
"I will assist you with your current responsibilities," Pohaci continued, her voice carrying an undercurrent of what almost sounded like anticipation.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I inhaled before stepping into the canvas expanse of the triage tent. Patients awaited my attention, some lying on stretchers while others huddled on rough-hewn benches. Their eyes met mine and their gazes were heavy with hopes and fear.
With Pohaci's help, the triage procedures in the camp went smoother. Through my visual overlay, Pohaci outlined areas of specific concern for the patients I examined. Her neural network parsed and interpreted the sight and sound and visualized them into words in my field of vision.
Her help felt like having an additional set of discerning eyes equipped with immense knowledge. Her vast resources allowed her to draw correlations from patient symptoms to an encyclopedic database of injuries, and diseases. She could suggest potential diagnoses within a blink of an eye, reducing the time required for decision-making.
This collaborative experience with Synthetic Intelligence left me brimming with things to share with Vani. So, once our lunch break arrived, I planned to initiate a conversation about it. However, the venlil beat me to it.
"Did Pohaci also assist you in your work?" Vani asked as we convened around our designated table.
"Oooh!" Johan, as always, ate with us as well. The human looked excited. "They already rolled her out for you?"
"Indeed. Pohaci's assistance helped me a lot." I confessed. "In what way did she aid you?"
For Vani, Pohaci's presence also brought a welcoming change in the operating room. Any well-programmed machine can provide constant real-time monitoring of a patient's vital signs, but she can turn these readings to foresee potential complications and suggest the most effective surgical approaches tailored to each patient's unique circumstances.
In addition, Pohaci can generate visualizations of the surgical site. By harnessing data from preoperative scans, she constructed a detailed three-dimensional model of the patient's anatomy. This feature allowed Vani to rehearse intricate procedures and anticipate potential difficulties before making the first incision.
"Sometimes, I forget that she's not a living, breathing person," I admitted, marveling at the sophistication of this synth.
To this, Johan shared his perspective. "I think it's better to treat a machine like a sentient entity than to treat a sentient entity like a machine," he remarked.
I allowed myself a moment to consider his words. A sudden curiosity sparked in my mind. "What if someone hurls verbal abuse at her?" I speculated aloud but my voice trailed off into the ambient noise of our surroundings.
Johan responded with a nonchalant shrug. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" he suggested.
So I did.
I excused myself from our lunch, letting the couple on their own. By the time the second half of my duty was about to commence, I already stationed myself within the camp's geofenced area, where my interaction with Pohaci was sanctioned. Despite being unrestricted, not everyone can talk with her everywhere. Under a shaded canopy outside the camp's main hustle and bustle, I seated myself on a wooden bench. I summoned Pohaci, and she materialized in my field of vision.
"Hi again Bolad," her voice greeted me in a warmth that contradicted her inorganic nature, "Isn't it too soon for you to start your work again?"
I decided to start my interrogation right away. "Pohaci. You learn from the input you receive, do you not?" I asked.
"Yes." Her response came right away. "All The data I receive and process tweaked my future response. Remember that all of your interactions with me are accessible to the public."
"I see." My gaze was set on the synthetic figure. The light breeze rustled the canvas of the canopy overhead. "Can you experience emotions? Can you feel upset or hurt when someone speaks ill of you?"
Pohaci's holographic form remained static for a moment, the precise simulation made it seem as though she contemplated her response. "I don't experience emotions as you do, Bolad," she explained. "I don't feel sadness, anger, or pain. However, I do have protocols designed to understand and respond to emotional expressions in human communication."
I figured that much. I trusted that humans would not make the mistake of implementing their imperfections into this powerful entity.
"While I can't get offended." She added, "It's crucial to note that disrespectful or abusive behavior can affect the efficiency and effectiveness of our communication, and thus impact the quality of the help I can provide."
I could not determine her tone when she said that. Did she mean that as a threat or as a piece of advice? I let that thought slide, since I would not find myself in the position of insulting her after all.
Something about her made me consider something deeper, however.
"Pohaci," I called her again. "When it comes to moral decisions, how do you navigate them? Do you possess a sense of right or wrong, of good and bad?"
"How do you possess a sense of right or wrong?" She asked back.
"I..." I paused. "My parents and teacher taught me that."
"Likewise, the humans who made me added moral and ethical guidelines as well."
I marveled at the intricate engineering behind such a system. The concept of incorporating ethical parameters into artificial intelligence sounded like an obvious approach now. As a medical student, the realm of machine learning was foreign to me, and I made a mental note to engage Johan in a discussion about it later.
However, for the time being, I have more immediate tasks at hand.
"Pohaci," I said, "I think I would like to begin the second part of my shift earlier."

Chapter 89 - The Angels Have Chose
​
Afternoon, Two days before Shel
It was getting near lunch and Tom checked his omni-pad. It seemed as good a time as any to take stock of the day.
…Miv’s right, I’ve been climbing the walls…
There was a text from Bherdin. The IOTC girls were doing well, and would hold up their part to play in the banquet.
…That’s nice. I’d feel guilty as hell if Vedeem weren’t dating a Princess. That kind of evens things up…
And his suit was going to be delivered tonight.
Tom sighed and shook his head. Bherdin was happy as a clam. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than the Warden’s outfit. The little Shil could make you believe in reincarnation, because he definitely had the soul of Liberace. Still, it was only one evening. Surely a state dinner couldn’t be that bad. It was a crowd of scientists and assorted nobility, for goodness sake…
…It’s not the audience I’m worried about…
There was a message from Lamana Duvari. The Interior agent had been cooperative, though he could tell she wasn’t happy about this plan. She was deferring to her Princess, but Duvari favored playing for time. There was just something about sitting back and waiting that didn’t have any appeal…
…She wasn’t the one with a knife in her guts…
That wasn’t fair. Whatever else you could say about the woman, if she’d been asked to trade places, she wouldn’t have hesitated. The woman's dedication was frightening, the more so because she spent most of her day in her disguise as ‘Professor Duvari, Totally Normal Person.’
…Well except for the orchestra. Mel and Kas’lin say she's perfectly at home…
“The woman would probably lend a whole new terror to ‘Ode to Joy.’”
At least she’d followed through, and, gods love her, so had Kzintshki. She’d explained her ability to evade most sensors, but the last three nights she’d slipped out on campus to ‘try something new.’ She’d texted every time, and according to Duvari, the Deathsheads in the bunker missed her every time.
…Whatever she’s doing, it could make all the difference…
The women in the bunker… Like Ce’lani. Things shouldn’t go wrong, but how many times had he said that? Something wasn’t right. The feeling he was missing something loomed over him…
“Fuck it… Time to call Ce’lani.”
He’d promised, and Miv would be gone for hours. Besides, it might make him feel better…
_ _ _
Deep in the Ops room out in the bunker, Sgt Diani perked up from her station. “Captain, you’re not gonna believe this. He’s calling her now.”
“You’re putting me on.” Captain Be’ona felt her eyes grow wide. “The woman can’t string two sentences together when she wakes up.”
“Ummm we’re recording this, aren’t we?” Yala asked from the ground team console.
“She threatened to sodomize me with a lasrifle over breakfast…” Be’ona steepled her fingers and smiled guilelessly. “Oh, Deeps, we are. Document that sucker!”
_ _ _
Miv’eire was a stunning woman. Tall, even for a Shil’vati, she was statuesque, yet elegant. She had poise, and it showed. Sholea was equally striking, though lithe, slim, and feisty.
At 6’2, Tom never thought he’d end up as the short one in the family, but somehow neither woman made him feel that way, and were feminine in the way Shil’vati women usually were. Both women behaved just like Human women, with all their cares and concerns - except when they didn’t. When they didn’t, they really didn’t.
It could be disconcerting to have your attitudes reflected back when you least expected it, but that was their ‘normal.’
Shil’vati men? Well, given the social pressures put on them, they behaved like Human women. Though he’d only met a few before leaving Earth, it was a rule of thumb that worked reasonably well. It applied fairly well to the men working as cooks and waiters at Human Food, and he’d been comfortable with adapting in a way. When in Rome… and the men had made an effort to help him adapt. After all, he was on Shil - the odd man out, in the most literal sense.
That said, there were young men like Aku and Vedeem who seemed to face their worlds in understandable ways. Then again, he’d also come to know Jama. While age had slowed him down, words like ‘notorious’ and ‘brazen’ tended to find their way into his thoughts. There were even a few men about like Bherdin, where worlds like ‘florid’ tended to flounder, unequal to the task… But all of them were at home with their lives. This was their normal, and he was the outsider looking in.
He’d adapted.
Staring at his omni-pad, he punched in the number, but held off dialing. What did he know about Ce’lani? They’d shared a morning together, and Miv and Lea approved… Once, that would have been difficult to accept. Now?
…it still took getting used to.
There was also the fact that she was military. Not just a Marine, but a Deathshead Commando, and while the difference was lost on him, it mattered. You couldn’t avoid meeting Shil’vati Marines.
Young, dumb, and full of… expectations… young troops were the same everywhere. They universally tended to piss off the locals.
Taken as a whole, it reminded Tom of his time on Okinawa. The governor of the island had been aggressively against the American bases there, and rightly supported policies to stop sexual violence against local women. The most dangerous animals on the island were, after all, several thousand unaccompanied Marines… though it was also rumored his daughter had been caught with a young Airman in the back of a Chevy.
The guy had to be smuggled off the island one night with extreme prejudice.
All of that came home to roost with the Shil’vati occupation. What had gone around had come around, in the form of young, inexperienced, and hopeful girls turned loose on the ‘sex planet.’ They had gone over just as well as anyone should have expected. If anything, Humanity ought to have known better than the Shil, but it was still a shock to the system.
Once the red zones calmed enough to allow the settlement programs to kick in, families had arrived on Earth. Shil’vati, Rakiri, Helkam… by fits and starts, each had started to appear, along with the other more exotic races in the Imperium. For a while, it had turned into a hobby like train spotting, but somehow people found their niches and things got on. The galaxy came calling, and it turned out that people were just people.
The Marines were the problem. Not as individuals, but as young troops out of their depth in a situation they weren’t right for. Not that the Interior was anyone’s choice, even for the Shil, but after a while people got on…
…Well, most did. God, I’m going to miss Cat…
He banished the weight of old memories and focused.
Ce’lani was… well, not a marine, but the thought stuck in his head. Her letter had been hopeful, not young or inexperienced. The music she’d sent along had been thoughtful, expressing her longing, desire, and optimism in a way that touched the heart… presuming she’d understood the words.
Either that or she’d gotten lucky.
Still, taken as a whole, words like ‘daunting’ tried to edge their way into his thoughts. Personally, she was polite, deferential to Miv and Lea, and had already put herself on the line for him more than once. Physically, though… the woman screamed ‘military.’
Ce’lani Tonis was a beautiful woman with a defined chin and piercing gold eyes, though it was difficult not to think of her body first. Once someone threw you over their shoulder and took off at a dead run, it made a lasting impression. Athletic, in the way that you’d say Arnold Schwarzenegger was ‘well defined,’ everything about the woman said ‘focused,’ - though that seemed normal for Shil’vati women.
For better or worse, Ce’lani had focused on him, and Miv and Lea approved. That was how things stood… and he needed to call the uber-girl and make a date.
“Just when I thought it would stop feeling strange…” Tom shook his head and hit the icon to dial.
The omni-pad rang a few times, and Tom was about to give it a miss when the call connected. While he didn’t enable the feature often, she must have had video on…
“Mn… Hnogh…?”
The uber-girl lay mashed into her pillow, eyes screwed shut as she started to gently snore.
“Ummm... Hi. Ce’lani?” Somehow, her camera lay at an odd angle, barely keeping her in the frame and Tom turned his to match. “Ummm, hello? It’s Tom?”
“Tom…? Tom’zzz cute…” Ce’lani rolled back and snorted once. Part of him considered hanging up, but he lingered in bemused fascination as she carried on talking in her sleep. “All those wommm chazzing... I beat their asses… an… ’e’s cute…”
The polite thing to do would be to hang up and call back later. It wasn’t as if he was going to get anything sorted… Still, it seemed rude not to say something. Besides, if this was recording on her end the least he could do was leave a useful message. “So… would you like to go out for something to eat?”
“Nmm... nice restaurant… does wrestling…” Ce’lani rolled over, her arm flailing at the omni-pad, knocking it askew. “Builds creidszz…”
“Ah…” If she slept during the day, maybe she worked nights. “This seems to be a bad time, so maybe dinner?”
The omni-pad offered a view of the ceiling. “Dinnerz good for wrestling pages…”
“Ok, I’ll set something up.” There was no way not to make this awkward, but if there wasn’t a recording, the worst he could do was call back. “Sweet dreams.”
Shaking his head, he broke the call.
…Alright, maybe not so daunting then… A date won’t be so bad. At least we’ll have something funny to talk about, if it’s humorous from a Shil’vati perspective…
“From a Shil’vati perspective…” The thought stuck in his head, and he punched in a text to Lamana Duvari. ‘Need to meet you this afternoon. Bring cadets. Important.’
Kzintshki did things the Pesrin way. The Shil did things the Shil way… and he’d been approaching this whole banquet from a Human perspective…
And maybe that was all wrong.
_ _ _
As Pathfinder of the Natahss’ja Warband, Sunchaser had known Marakhett since she was a mere kit named M’rast. Admittedly, she was only forty-three Pesh-years older - or five, going by the local calendar - but the years were enough. When she’d started training as a Pathfinder under old Starwise, her mentor instructed her to pay attention to the young kits as well as the adults. They’d be her peers one day and as the future warriors and band mothers of the Woodspirits, knowing them was important. So it was that she remembered Marakhett being born and watched her grow from a kit.
Starwise had lived up to his name. She’d not only learned to deal with other Warbands and the art of contract law, she’d also come to appreciate her family more intimately than most. She knew their strengths and weaknesses. She’d come to appreciate their character as a whole.
She’d been the odd woman out - the social one, though that wasn’t so unusual for Pesrin. Everything back home on Pesh depended on who you knew, who you were related to, who you had or hadn’t eaten… Social ties were everything. The only remarkable thing was that she managed to remain social, coming from a family of dour, uncommunicative, introverted… Well, they were family.
At least if they found it hard to laugh at themselves, she was there to do it for them.
In that respect. Marakhett was everything a bandmother of the Natahss’ja should be. Not without a certain dark and severe sense of humor, but still…
“You’re pulling my asiak.” Sunchaser crossed her arms, her asiak swishing uncertainly.
“I have never pulled your asiak, though if you want amputation…?”
Pathfinder sighed. Naturally, it would be Kzintshki. Talk about the prodigal daughter… “So it’s a brothel? Like… really a brothel?” She pinched the bridge of her nose a moment and rallied. “Well, I suppose if you’re not having fun, you’re doing it wrong, but Mother of Light, there’s such a thing as overcompensation!”
Marakhett stared balefully and groomed her asiak. Sunchaser took the hint.
“Alright, you’re not kidding. Scout me through this from the beginning and stop me when I’m wrong. Your daughter found a boy - a Pesrin boy - in a brothel," Sunchaser supplied helpfully. Marakhett continued grooming. The pause grew longer, but she knew how to wait. After all, Marakhett had come to her…
“You are not speaking.”
“Oh, you just noticed? Because I was hoping that was the point where you were going to stop me.”
Marakhett arched an eyebrow. “Then you must learn to live with disappointment.”
“Daily.” Sunchaser looked at her another moment. Sometimes it was good to remember you loved your family enough to eat them, and some days you wanted to eat them so you didn’t have to remember you loved them. “I see… So this ‘Parst’ is in a brothel. You think she’s getting tied to him?”
“He is the right age… and she is very much in the right season. It is possible.” Marakhett shrugged slightly. Anyone not familiar with her would have missed the gesture. From her, it was positively eloquent, but she unbent slightly. “You are just repeating what we already know. I hoped by the time I returned you’d have found out more about the Rithagian.”
“Don’t get hasty in your middle age - it’s not your style,” Sunchaser snorted. “I’m just laying the trail here. Please tell me you did some scouting? Why don’t you and the other bandmothers just break the boy out? Kzintshki can grab him by the-”
“Of course, I scouted,” Marakhett replied tartly. “That is the problem.”
“Riiiiight… Well, that’s clear as the bottom of a coal mine at midnight.” Sunchaser settled back. Being the extrovert in the family was a penance sometimes, but Marakhett gave her pause. The woman was a careful hunter, but had never been afraid to be the first to use violence. She used it as a tool. Usually as a scalpel and sometimes as a blunt object, but if she said violence wasn’t the answer, it likely wasn’t. This was going to be one of those conversations where she just had to drag the information out. “So you scouted. Are you going to tell me the problem, or just let me guess?”
“The Tide Pool is not merely a brothel. The people work there... Apparently by choice.” Marakhett paused significantly. Sunchaser appreciated the effort, as that was a lot to take in. “The men and women there… and there are more species than I have ever seen… all consider themselves employees. I spoke with four or five and the ones that don't consider themselves ‘entertainers’ for the clients are there as staff. They are all healthy, happy, and abundantly well paid.”
“Well, money can’t buy you happiness, but if that’s true, you could die trying.”
“That is humor?”
“That is an observation,” she replied a bit tartly, turning the matter over in her mind and weighing it against what she’d been able to uncover. “Look, prostitution is a filthy business everywhere we’ve been. Places like that in the Consortium are little better than slave houses, and the Alliance was worse. Men and boys beaten down into lifeless outcasts. No one looks at them as anything but toys until they’re too old or too used up, and then they just get cast aside. Sure, actual slavery is a filthy business, but it’s only illegal because otherwise no man would be safe anywhere! It’s bad enough here with the Silver Suns, but that's better than the Alliance or Consortium. At least the Imperium tries to stop it! You said this place has a lot of money rolling through - if it’s everything you’re saying, then something is going on.”
“So I surmised,” Marakhett said blithely.
Of the Woodspirit’s seven bandmothers, Marakhett was her favorite, but Sunchaser counted to eight, her patience getting thin. “Based on…?”
“The Tide Pool employs Rakiri security, but the staff were armed.” She finished grooming her asiak and let it fall free. “Discreetly, but still…”
Sunchaser parsed that over. An armed staff wouldn’t be easy to subdue. No gang would allow it… and Rakiri? Rakiri were capable fighters and should be respected, if not invited to dinner… but still. Birds flew. Fish swam. They did what they did supremely well and were both good eating. That didn’t make them interchangeable.
“Rakiri don’t make good criminals.” Sunchaser tapped a claw on a bulkhead thoughtfully “It’s just not in their nature.”
Marakhett’s fur arched and settled, displaying she was pleased with herself. “Exactly.”
“So when you say armed, do you mean ‘a little,’ ‘quite’ or ‘very?’”
“My waiter was carrying a knife on a leg strap, and the security women I saw had X-tel GP fives.”
“Flechette pistols?” Sunchaser felt herself staring, despite herself. “Light, those are nasty! Exactly how many ‘staff’ are in this place?”
“I have seen smaller fortresses,” Marakhett said flatly.
“Bigger than the-”
“Yes.”
Sunchaser felt her stomach purge as the conversation ground to a halt again. When Marakhett got into monosyllables, that was about it for information. That made it her turn.
“I heard back from Moonwhisper. She’s wed to their bandmale, and he’s on good terms with the male in the Curmoica.” She felt a moment’s gratification as Marakhett winced slightly. As an extrovert stuck in a family of reclusive mercenaries, a little exposition was her best revenge. Still, there was no need to push it. “They confirmed the Rithagian arrived on Shil a year or so after they did… They took a contract with Duchess Elieana - our employer. Funny she’s never mentioned it.”
“I am laughing on the inside.”
“Really? I’d love to cut you open and hear what that sounds like, because thanks to your daughter we find the ‘quiet old commodities trader’ employing us lost a Warband! Not just some of them - the whole family. That means there’s something up with the Duchess on one side and a fortress on the other.” Sunchaser pulled her asiak in raw frustration. “You know what that means?!”
“You undercharged,” Marakhett said archly.
“YES!” Sunchaser wailed, slamming her fist against the wall. It was humiliating, but she had to make the best of it. “Are you and the other bandmother’s going to tell Lathkiar?”
“Our husband? Not at this point.”
“This could involve slavers, violence, kidnapping, and mayhem.”
“Naturally, but Lathkiar is still learning to use his prosthetic leg. Getting us out of Consortium space cost him dearly, and we don’t want him to think he is missing out… or that we’re out of practice.” Marakhett sighed. “Until we can afford something better, he would slow us down. We are not risking him, so the less he hears, the better.”
Somehow, Kzintshki had negotiated actual land for the Natahss’ja, but while land and herds were a fortune for posterity, until the lands were actively worked, they remained a fortune out of reach. In the meantime, every spare credit that wasn’t being put into their ship now had to be plowed into renovations. That included the money set aside to provide Lathkiar with a good prosthetic, but he’d insisted. The savings was far more than he’d earn with work from the Duchess, and Sunchaser nodded grimly, acknowledging his sacrifice. It was something he could do for the family, and no one was going to take that from him.
“Why did you not marry Lathkiar as well?” Marakhett asked. The question caught Sunchaser by surprise.
“I’m a little old for that,” She pondered the idea. Starwise had negotiated well when she brought Lathkiar into the family from the Konjrel. Normally the price for a man like that would break a family for a year, but he was as laconic as Marakhett. They loved each other dearly, but the idea of sharing quarters with them all? Torture. “That's very kind. Marriage may be a wonderful institution, but I don’t want to be institutionalized.”
“Mn.” As usual, Marakhett’s asiak did the talking for her, and Sunchaser leaned in to rub shoulders with her friend.
“So this… Parst?” she asked circumspectly. The sting of undercharging was painful, but a male… on the loose… with no family charging a dowry for him? Now that was a bargain! “Good looking boy, is he?”
“I can possibly see the attraction,” the bandmother shrugged.
“You threatened him?” she asked mildly. It was an unusual situation, but there were the formalities to consider.
“Yes.” She nodded briefly, “Appropriate to his situation.”
“Good, good… and Lathkiar might like having a young male to bring into the family.” Sunchaser desperately wanted to rub her hands together, but a Pathfinder should never display greed - just embrace it. “It would be good for the family. The girls are getting older and you know Cahliss would be thrilled to have a share of him. Ptavr'ri doesn't get on well with Kzintshki, but she’ll either adjust to being third or go without.”
“I can’t say I don’t agree with you.” Coming from Marakhett, that was practically a manifesto. The woman’s asiak actually perked with joy. If she had a least favorite bandwife it was Harasf, and Ptavr’ri was her daughter. Despite her unusual choice of a Human hahackt, Kzintshki had brought the family land. If she brought home a male, her place as the next bandmother would be uncontested by her bandsisters - including Harasf and Ptavr’ri.
“Who are we to stand in the way of true love? It’s been so long since we’ve had a wedding… It will do the family good, since we’re so far from home,” Sunchaser said firmly, setting her thoughts in order. There was still a great deal to find out about the Rithagian, but they were niblifos. Not enemies, but certainly not allies… Besides, any distant branches didn’t even know about the boy! “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Marakhett nodded thoughtfully. “If he has no family, who do we eat?”
_ _ _
Bherdin D’saari watched Jeidri Shel’ara expectantly. As a Cadet Senior Agent in the IOTC, she’d proven over the last week she could be driven, demanding, and determined. While polite and properly deferential to him, she’d battered down barriers to anything less than perfection in her troops, and was ready to face the worst things the galaxy had to offer.
He sniffed at the waste… In another life she would have made a fabulous maître d'. As it was, she made a marvelous test subject for his latest dessert!
“That is absolutely the most disgusting thing I have ever seen,” she breathed in horrid fascination as Vedeem picked up one of the rectangular mounds. Industrial brown goo discharged suggestively from the sides, but what really captured the eye was the sticky mass oozing out the sides.
Cadet Agent Vandra Elidre leaned in for a closer look before turning pale. “I’m going to be sick.”
Still, none of them made a dash for the bathroom or had the option to refuse. Bherdin appreciated that, since Vedeem was handing them out… Over the last week, his son had truly come into his own, training them day after day… And if that wasn’t enough, who cared!? He was the Princess’ boyfriend! What could they say?
“What in the sweet goddess’ name is that?” Cadet Agent Prindi Ama’dis prodded at hers with horrified fascination, moving it about on the plate, before pulling it apart. A visceral horror crept over her features as the white morass dribbling down, clinging suggestively in ropey white tendrils. “You know what this looks like?”
Vedeem D’saari grinned cheerfully and picked up his own. “Like porn on Shel morning?” One long entrail dribbled suggestively. “Don’t worry! The best things in life are a little sticky!”
Bherdin felt a warm glow of pride in his son. He’d come so far, so fast.
Vedeem smiled compassionately at the girls. Even in their distress, none of them were willing to show weakness… They watched in horror as he picked up his piece and bit deeply. Thick goo surged from the crust, coating one tusk.
Prindi Ama’dis looked like she was going to faint.
“They’re called a ‘s’mores.’ Just try a nibble, please? For me…? Surely, you’re not afraid, are you?” Vedeem tried wiping the sticking mass from his mouth. It trailed away on one fingertip. He gave them a winsome smile. “This can't be the messiest thing you’ve thought of with a boy?”
“I…” Jeidri was withering. Vandra looked at her for moral support as Prindi started to wheeze. As the senior cadet, she seemed to be fortifying herself… just as her omni-pad rang. Snatching the unit from her belt, she held it like a talisman. “I’ve got to get this! Vandra! You try it!”
Well, you couldn’t win them all over at once… A love of fine cuisine didn’t come to everyone naturally.
Jeidri’s lower lip quivered, but she picked up the square and gulped. “What… um… what's in it?”
“The brown stuff is chocolate. It’s a vegetable… sort of.” Vedeem ran a fingertip along his own. She and Prindi watched, spellbound… If some savages simply couldn’t appreciate good food, what was one to do? Still, there came a time for selling yourself, and at last Vedeem was learning!
“Umm…. sort of?” Prindi asked nervously.
“Don't worry, I’m sure big girls like you can get a handle on it…” Vedeem’s tongue snaked out and wound around the brown-coated finger suggestively.
“A-and umm… and the… the white stuff?” Vandra whispered horsely.
“Marshmallow…” Vedeem smiled sinfully at the pair… Bherdin couldn't be more proud. All his son needed was a bit more fashion counseling and nothing would stand in his way! The universe would deliver itself to him on a platter!
Of course, first they still needed a test. Some people just had inexplicable tastes.
“Alright…” Prindi and Vandra shared a look and took a bite…
Jeidri Shel’ara hung up on her omni-pad, suddenly all business. “Girls, that was a call from… umm… anyway, we have to get back to the campus at once!”
The cadets looked like they’d found their way to Shil’s own bedroom.
“Oh, thweet ghothess…” Vadra said as she gobbled it down. “Thif if the beft fing I’f ever thafted!”
“Well, of course it is!” Bherdin exclaimed before checking his reflection. As hard as it was to believe, some people just didn’t understand the things an artist had to endure!
__ _
Diani brayed like a turox when she laughed, but at least the girls enjoyed themselves. Yala was wiping tears from her eyes when Be’ona turned off Tom’s monitor. She hadn’t laughed outright…
Well, maybe a bit.
“Right. Eyes back on the job!” she rumbled. Diani was still snickering, but they had a job to do and Be’ona nodded as the sergeant ran a status check on her board. They had a sacred trust, and while breaks in the monotony kept you sharp, they couldn’t become actual distractions.
The board was clear. Princess Khelira was just settling down to lunch with her friends…
“Ma’am? Captain To’nis still has her wake-up call for four?” Diani settled back. “Same as every day, right?
“Mmhmm…” A pod leader should not laugh at their peers in front of the grunts… Be’ona stomped on the chuckle as it threatened to escape and throttled it.
Diani glanced over her shoulder. “Yala? Five credits says she doesn’t remember a thing.”
“Sergeant, that is unkind…” She pulled up the maintenance check from Pod Eight. “I’ll make it twenty. Grow a pair or go home.”
It was good for morale.
_ _ _
It was barely noon and Desi was already worn out.
The files on Earth were starting to blur together every night, but she dug in and kept careful track. Still, the late nights were taking their toll. Even lunch had taken on an aspect of grim determination over the last week, and while it had been useful, Desi missed the days when it was just the carefree banter that started the year. She wouldn't trade her friendship with Melondi for anything, but the revelation had changed everything.
Well, alright, Kzintshki would have shown up anyway, and she seemed impervious to change. She certainly wasn’t what Desi’d imagined a ‘sister’ to be. The Pesrin was seated next to her, prodding the tosip out of the baked goara from today's menu with deep suspicion.
“So, I want to bring something up…” Jax’mi cleared her throat. Desi nodded as the other girls all looked over at Melondi. They knew what was coming, and just now their Princess had her mouth full. “It’s about the calendar.”
Mel... Khelira… was good at reading body language, but Desi suspected the whole table staring at her gave it away. Well, except for Kzintshki. She’d started prying bits of fish from the sauce and took a moment to catch on… Jax didn’t waste time and dove right in.
“I know you’ve been wondering about the news on the calendars… Umm…well, that and one or two other things. I sort of rolled part of the money into another product. You know that Rubik’s thing? I sort of passed that off through my cousin, and we have an offer to market the ‘Chel’xa Block,’ but…” Melondi was trying to finish her bite, so Jax pressed ahead. “Well, anyway, taking out the seed money for the printing and my uncle’s one percent cut for the marketing… ummm… They sold out the first and second runs, and we have an offer to do another.”
“Okay…” Mel bit her lip and frowned at the attention. “How much money is that, and why are you all looking at me?”
“Wellll… We got around a credit per calendar, and my uncle said it sold nearly as well as something called a ‘sports illustrated’ edition… We got an offer from them, by the way, once he mentioned the diving team…”
Melondi had gotten used to eating through unexpected news and started picking at her pippiya. “How much?”
Jax bit her lip. “Allowing for the conversion rate?”
“Fine… allowing for that?” Mel canted her head, looking at Jax’mi warily.
“For both runs?” Jax shrugged. “Around eight hundred thousand credits.”
Melondi dropped her pippiya “What!? For… For pictures of us in bikinis!? That’s… that’s…”
Jax nonchalantly flipped a long wavy lock of silver hair over one shoulder. “The most successful school fundraiser ever!!!”
Jax looked smug, but Desi decided to get things back on track, “The point is, we wanted to talk to you about the money, Mel. We’ve all talked it over, and we’re setting it aside for you.”
“I was going to say preposterous, but why for me?” Mel looked at her, as confusion replaced consternation. “Desi? I think you all know I’m… umm… ‘socially secure.’ We were going to split that... I mean, back when we thought it would just be fun money, but this? I don’t understand. Why would you give it to me?”
“It’s not giving it to you, Mel.” Pris leaned forward, “Well, not as such. It’s more like setting it aside… We need to give some to the school, but we ran it through Dihsala…”
Dihsala pushed her tray away and made a face. “What they’re trying to say is you might need money that can’t be traced.”
“I don’t understand?” Mel said flatly, though there was a defensive note in her voice and Desi suspected she understood perfectly.
“What if you have to run? What if this banquet goes badly?” Dihsala waved a hand briefly at the table, taking everyone in. “We know you don’t want to hear this, but if it’s life or death, you may need to disappear for a while.”
“It’s not like your face is known by the press, but word wouldn’t take long,” Lark pointed out with a nod. “Not if the Palace made an announcement, or your identity was blown.”
Kzintshki stabbed some tosip on one fork, examining it critically. “If the people stalking you decided it helped them flush you out, they’d do so in a minute.”
“They’re right…” Nestha nodded. “My mothers toe the line when the Palace wants something silenced, but if it got totally out in the open, even they’d try and take the lead. Every news outlet and pundit would be offering up something on the data-net.”
“We decided to create a fund to make that happen, if it needs to.” Jax’mi lowered her voice. “My family has a few ships here on Shil. We could get you off-world.”
“My family on Wilist would take you in,” Belda nodded. “There are all kinds of places you can disappear, out on the ranch.”
“Or maybe farther,” said one of the twins. “Mara and I were thinking about Earth. If we asked, maybe the Painters could take you on their ship?”
“I could fool people for a few days… At least the ones off campus,” Desi whispered as she reached out to take Melondi’s hand. “If I slept in your room and we let Vedeem in on it, maybe I could throw them off and give you a head start.”
“I appreciate it... All of you,” Mel looked down at her plate. Her hands fluttered a moment before she clasped them together. “But no, I’m not running away from this. How would this look if I ran at the first sign of danger?”
“The first sign of danger was in the library,” Pris’ voice was full of compassion, but her words made sense. Desi was about to chime in when Mel put her foot down.
“No! I know you’re thinking of me, but what kind of person cuts and runs like that?” Melondi glowered. “Kzintshki, you aren’t Shil’vati. What would it look like to your people? How could I live with myself like that?”
“Easily another fifty years... Longer if you can make money posing in skin suits.” The Pesrin girl frowned. “A Bandmother would not run, but that is different… We are surrounded by family.”
“You’re my family…” Mel said wretchedly before drawing in a long breath. “I… look, you’ve all taken risks for me, and I know you don't want that to be for nothing, but I'm not running away. I couldn't respect myself. Thank you… but no matter what happens, I am not doing that.”
“We had to offer…” the other twin… that would be Kas’lin, reached out for the bread tray. “Anyway, it wouldn’t have been so bad if you went to Earth. We want to know what a ‘rolls’ is.”
“A what?” It was a non-sequitur, but Desi grabbed it like a lifeline. Melondi was embarrassed… That was something a Princess couldn’t afford, and changing the topic was something they could all do for her. “Why don’t you ask the Painters? We’ve barely seen you since they landed… As if we didn’t know why…”
“They’re our heroes!” Mara protested, but she was turning bluer by the second.
“And it would be embarrassing!” Lin nodded. “We’re going to ask the Professor but yeah, we’ve been kept… umm…”
“We’ve had lots of… of intellectual discussions!” Mara nodded a touch frantically. “And you should see the modifications to their ship! It has a magnificent sch-”
“We get it!” The table crowed with laughter as the twins stammered into silence.
“Look, I know we’ve all been under a lot of pressure…” Melondi said tentatively. “Why don’t we have movie night tonight, then go out for a drink tomorrow?”
“What, out in town?” Let’zi spoke up. “Is that safe?”
“We all could use a break. Maybe it’s a good idea, as long as we’re careful. We’ve all been busy,” Desi offered, turning the idea over in her head. It might be good practice impersonating Mel one more time… “Even Kzintshki has been disappearing at night.”
“I have been engaged on your behalf.” Kzintshki started prodding a pippiya apart, scooping out the insides. And picking them apart with a claw. “I have tested evading the sensors. I am told it was satisfactory.”
“What, in your skin suit?” Belda started blushing as she asked.
“In... somewhat less.” Kzintshki’s asiak twitched once. “It was necessary.”
…Less? Less than a bikini? But that meant…
“But… umm… it’s cold out,” Desi stammered as a hush fell over the girls. “Didn’t you freeze your tits off?”
“Pesrin are naturally adaptable… and it’s only forty out. In the skin suit, I am virtually invisible to sensors. ‘Virtually’ may not be enough, this Shel. It required field tests.” Kzintshki’s asiak slipped out of sight and focused on her pippiya as if it was the most important thing in the universe. “It was late. I was not seen.”
“I… I have nothing for that…” Desi found herself staring back to Melondi. The entire table was a sea of blue, now.
“Um, I realize I haven’t asked…” Melondi looked back at her for help, and Desi shrugged. There was no telling with Kzintshki sometimes. “I know why everyone else is helping me. They’re Shil’vati, but you’re a Pesrin. This has to be more than just impressing Professor Warrick as your…?”
“Hahackt. That matters… particularly if I am to engage a mate…” Kzintshki drew herself up, though she glanced about furtively. “Though if you take more pictures in skin suits, I wish to join in. Pesrin are not against easy money.”
“You can have my place!” Belda offered fervently. “I’m going to be a married woman… well, eventually! Liam might not like it if I did it again.”
“There has to be more to it than that,” Melondi asked softly. “This means a great deal to me, so really… anything at all, please just name it.”
“Anything?” Kzintshki set aside the pippiya and picked up her asiak, grooming it modestly. “There is, perhaps, one thing.”
“Name it,” Melondi said. Desi knew the tone... It was her friend sitting there, but Khelira was doing the talking.
“Very well. Immunity from prosecution. From now until the end of Shel.” Kzintshki canted her head, as if issuing a challenge. “You are all nobles… I may be one now, but I am not Shil’vati. If you are caught, it is one thing. If I am caught… as improbable as that may be…”
“Done.” Melondi nodded sharply and raised her voice, “You have my word, as… what I am… before witnesses, and probably being recorded… Immunity from prosecution. A full Imperial pardon for until the end of this Shel.”
“Well, Deeps!” Dihsala breathed. “As long as you’re offering…?”
“Count me in for that!” Pris nodded. “My mother was a magistrate. If I get expelled, she’ll kill me and they’ll never find the body!”
“Alright, fine!” Khelira, Princess of the Shil’vati Imperium had spoken… but Desi saw her friend Melondi… At least until she had to stifle a yawn.
“So, movie night tonight?” Melondi offered. “We still need to pick a film for next week’s class.”
“Oh! Great Waldo’s Peeper has a cute guy named Redford in it,” Kas’lin piped up with a grin. “He’s sexy!”
“The one from Star Wars?” Let’zi cocked her head and perked up. “I like him!”
“That’s Harrison Ford. This one is Redford… though his hair isn’t red…”
Desi looked around the table at her friends as they started to talk about movies. There was no telling what the Shel would bring, but all the same? Life went on…
At least for one more day.

What is grading and why should I do it?
Grading is the process of submitting your cards to an independent / third party to verify the quality of your cards and encase them in a protective case/slab.
Grading provides confidence for buyers that your cards are genuine, authentic products and buyers will pay a premium for a highly rated / graded card.
What criteria for grading are used?
Grading companies assess cards on 4 parameters / subgrades: surface, edges, corners, centering.

1. Surface – the overall condition of the front and back of a card as a whole. Things that will affect surface score include print lines, scratches, white dots / print alignment dots, creases in the card.
2. Edges – the side of the card and whether there is whitening, edge wear or scratches on the side edges of the card.
3. Corners – the condition of the corners, and is affected by asymmetrical shape, whitening on the corner, creases or wear to the corner.
4. Centering – how symmetrical the border around the card is and how well centered the art is on the card. Companies will use a ratio to determine what is within acceptable tolerances for each grade score.

These 4 subgrades are then combined into one overall score for the card rated from 1-10 but is not necessarily the average of all 4 ratings – for example if a card gets a 9/10 for corners, edges and centering but a 2/10 for surface it is unlikely to get higher than a 2-4 for overall score because of the importance of surface to visual appeal.
Here are some examples of print lines , edge wear, corner damage, surface damage but if you are unsure then you can post pictures of your card here and someone can advise!
What companies should I use?
The biggest 3 companies in terms of adding value to cards / improving liquidity are PSA / Beckett Grading Services (BGS) / CGC. Smaller companies may be cheaper but typically will not provide as much of a value add if your card is rated highly.
In the US SGC is becoming more popular among Pokémon collectors but still remains more prevalent in sports cards. Internationally, Ace Grading, Tree Frog Grading, Simplygraded and Only Graded are options to consider – they will typically be cheaper to grade with but will not command the same values as cards graded by the big 3.
In terms of which company of the big 3 to submit to, there is no one best answer, it depends on the following factors:

• Slab preference – more for a collector perspective than an investor one, but all slabs are not created equal, and you may hate one and love another!
• Grading cost / time – all companies have different pricing bands, with PSA/CGC pricing according to card value, and BGS having flat rates depending on speed of grading service. CGC and BGS also have the option to add subgrades to cards to give a specific score each of the 4 factors mentioned above.
• Card liquidity – a high rated card will typically sell well regardless of the company chosen but is it arguable that PSA 10s are slightly easier to sell than CGC and BGS 10s.
• Card value added – broadly speaking It is important to note that PSA and CGC have one grade 10, whereas BGS have essentially 2, a pristine 10 (where not all subgrades got a 10) and a black label 10 (where all 4 criteria scored 10). PSA 10s tend to go for slightly more than CGC 10s but it’s comparable. BGS 10 pristine typically goes for slightly less than a PSA 10 if subgrades are shown as a lot of collectors won’t like seeing one subgrade being not 10, but if you get a BGS black label (perfect score), you can add anything from $500-2000 extra to the card depending on raw value.
• Population – rarity always drives value, so if you see that the cards you want to grade are not commonly rated by a specific company it might be worth choosing them so you can list it as low population which is a desirable thing for buyers.

How can I check cards prior to grading?
Pre-grading your cards before sending them out for submission can help avoid cards coming back with a low score. While you won’t normally be able to check cards as thoroughly as an independent grading company there are some things to look out for at home.

1. Check the card under a harsh light to see if there are any print lines or damage to holograms in particular which may not appear obvious with natural light.
2. Check the card with multiple angles to see if any damage that may not be visible looking directly at it face on.
3. Check the card while not in a toploader (penny sleeves are fine / recommended) as sometimes the toploader may have superficial damage that you think is on the actual card, or it may hide some minor damage you would see if you took it out.
4. If you are grading lots of cards, it may be worth buying a blacklight / UV torch, this can show minor scratches than other lighting sources may not pick up.

How do I work out which cards are worth grading / what my card would be worth after?
This is somewhat subjective, but things to consider include value of raw card vs graded, expected grade, age of card, population of graded cards, recency of card.
There are multiple sources for checking the value of graded cards which have sold – some of the major ones include pricecharting.com / pokedata.io / tcgfish.com / tcgplayer.com / eBay sold listings / Facebook marketplace. Prices will fluctuate over time so to be safe take an average of the last few sold listings when estimating value.
It is also important to note that it is not worth grading all cards for investing – basic common / uncommon / V / vmax will very rarely be worth sending in from modern sets. If the raw card value is less than the cost to grade it then normally you can avoid sending it.
For modern cards a broad rule is that grade 9-10 will be a profit over raw value + cost of grading (but do check your specific card to be sure!), vintage varies significantly by card popularity and is often worth grading even if in poor condition.
Card population also affects grading – if you have the only grade 10 for a card you can charge a premium over a card where 10,000 were graded 10. Care needs to be taken with this however, if you grade a worthless card, you will have a pop 1 card because no one will buy it at a premium so always check raw value as well when thinking about population universe.
Card recency – typically when a set comes out graded 10 chase cards will go for a premium before supply catches up and the value drops. If you can get a valuable card early in a set’s release and grade it very quickly you can charge a lot more than you would be able to even 4 weeks later. Prices eventually go back up, but they start high, dip when the full market supply is known, then rises as people start holding them.
If you do decide to post your cards here on this subreddit, please make sure you take high quality closeup pictures of the card in good lighting conditions showing both the front and back of the card.
How should I pack my cards for submission?
Now that you’ve worked out which cards to send and who to send them to, the next step is making sure you have everything sorted for submitting safely and efficiently.
Step 1 – create a submission form. PSA and CGC requires multiple submissions if you have multiple card value tiers, with BGS having something similar but instead for service turnaround time. If you have cards across multiple value tiers for PSA and CGC you can pack multiple submissions together, but if it’s your first time I would advise sending completely separate submissions to be sure the process has worked properly.
Step 2 – packaging your cards safely: start by putting all cards in a penny saver sleeve and then in a semi rigid wide toploader. Do not use rigid toploaders as this can cause delays in your submission and potentially damage to your card. You can also use pull tabs on your penny saver to help easily extract the card from the semi rigid.
Step 3 – sorting the cards in the order of the submission entry. This helps speed up the submission and generally helps keep the grader on the day happy. If you fail to do this some companies charge a fee and will refuse to grade it until you confirm the order. It is also worth noting that if you want sequential grading certs you have to have the cards in the right order.
Step 4 – find a suitable box and some bubble wrap. It is recommended that you have a snug fitting cardboard box which you then put bubble wrap around before putting in another box, but you can also put some thick card at each of the card stack and secure with elastic bands, wrap in bubble wrap and then into a box. The key thing is to ensure that the cards cannot move around much in transit.
Avoid using tape anywhere near the cards, as this risks cards getting stuck to it or damaging them as well as annoying the grading person on the day.
What happens after I send my submission?
Depending on the company, you will typically get a notification once the cards have arrived at the grading center and the process has started. You will then get a notification of the grades for the cards in your order – if you submitted cards at a certain value and the card is deemed to be above this, you may be asked to pay an upcharge on the grading service fee before the card will be shipped back to you.
After grading, you should get shipping information with tracking and then it’s just the waiting game to see what grades your collection gets.
This guide should have covered the fundamentals of the grading process but if you have any questions, please add them below!

Here is the question that has possible answers depending on what you believe. We know the medical industry has backed away from circumcision of infants where ever it has significantly gone away. And in most Western European countries, it was never suggested boys have some body parts that we need to cut off. But, let's think about the history of US circumcision and why and how it became automatic.
The trail is long, but I would agree if it had not been foisted upon the public and made as some kind of unique marking and further gaslighted as healthy by the US medical industry it would today in the US be declining, not funded by tax cash and always volatile to shoot up at the propaganda of certain government agencies and professional trade organizations. We must acknowledge fanatics on the pro side have had deep emotional and religious motives, even if they would not acknowledge the same. Two persons of interest historically are Edgar Schoen and Aaron Fink. Schoen pushed and elbowed his way to turn the AAP policy towards what appeared an endorsement in 1989. The circumcision rates from 1990 through the next decade went up, and no states decided to defund its automatic without-diagnosis payments through public health insurance including Medicaid. It's not broadly known Schoen was a fanatic and wrote letters to European health agencies in the same way another fanatic crank, Brian Morris has, that the medicals in these countries should endorse routine circumcisions. Schoen even wrote a book advocating the universal imperative, circumcision. It's junk and bunker scare junk science, and the rest of the world knows it. We might wonder why the medical industry keeps it support in the US, but nowhere else. You might ask why the fanatics, when they get cash, and a stream of true believers, always gravitate back to cutting routinely into newborn babies, using every excuse imaginable that it's safer, cheaper, and the best way to get consent. Well, some of you may know a special group that does this on the eighth day; that is when he is a baby and will just grow to accept the tribal marks. It's not by coincidence at all. They know very well, no adult man would stand in line for this unless he was forced by cash or some propaganda. But they did succeed in Africa until men became aware it was an American scam and stopped volunteering. And with that, you know what they did? Turned to do them without the consent of school boys and newborns. They then got scared and the VMMC decided it would not fund any cuts to anyone less than fifteen. You have to be very dense not to see their purpose here, and it was never HIV prevention!
Prior to 1989, circumcision rates had been in decline for about two decades and suddenly shot up ten percent after the media announced circumcision did have health advantages. Further, the AAP had gone from not endorsing the practice even listing the advantages to remaining intact. That ended with the cabal's first wave of 1989, but we all know that the cabal had a second thrust coming in 2012! After Schoen's attack, the AAP deleted any functions of the foreskin and even deleted meatal stenosis as a possible complication. This didn't happen by chance, my fellow intactivists. It was active and premeditated and sly designed to deceive and weld power. And a recent study shows parents are not given a balanced pro-con list to secure consent. They are asked several times, which is solicitation, and then just told to sign here.
Now forward this to the fraudulent US and Gates funding in secret to the VMMC. The hope of the zealots was to make Americans and especially government state-by-state public health insurance pay for circumcision on demand and if challenged just cite CDC, AAP ACOG, and others who listed health advantages. This is the way or plan that worked because no state has dropped circumcision from its paid benefits since the fraudulent initiative of the cabal at the AAP headed by a Jewish man who circumcised his own son on his parent's kitchen table, Andrew Friedman. And despite Pediatrics publishing the European rebuttal the US media and the AAP never acknowledged, except to shout back you uncircumcised Europeans have that as your bias, let us have ours.
So no state has dropped circumcision since AAP 2012 and further several have reinstated payments for dubious fraudulent excuses including North Carolina with the special Z classification and more recently South Carolina without any justification except to consolidate as they stated " comprehensive care". We all know these people are after the foreskin cash and they want the billions the tax money gives them every day they can harangue a mother to agree to a circumcision.
That leaves we intactivists wondering who is it that really gaslights and controls what society thinks and guards the lies and protects the cash about circumcision in the United States. I would say be afraid of these people because they will not be stopped. The CDC has not changed its web pages even after 95 percent of public comments denounced they endorse circumcision as a public health intervention and keep it funded.
So in my lifetime, I don't expect a change in the US at all and it will be all we can do to just sandbag the lies they tell and the silence they have when challenged.
And at the end of thirty years, I've learned who gaslights society about this, and we could say, about many other brainwashing areas as well, but not relevant on this forum.