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Milwaukee's Bicycle Community

2016.05.12 17:27 chillaxin4life Milwaukee's Bicycle Community

Welcome to Milwaukee's bike subreddit! From the urban commuters to the beach cruisers, everyone and their bike is welcome here for newbie advice, pro events, and everything in between! Bike maps and bike shops are listed in the wiki.
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2023.06.10 23:27 KyleKKent Out of Cruel Space, Part 709

First
Capes and Conundrums
“Alright, watch and learn kiddo.” Deadshot says as he brings his gun into position. “Most people think that a rifle is a point and click answer to their problems. Point, pull the trigger and problem solved. Those people are idiots.”
“Oh?” The Merc beside him says. Since Deadshot was categorically a solo act and maybe on occasion has some mooks to do the heavy lifting having someone hang around close would be an issue. So the excuse was he was training another sniper. Franchising as it were.
“Okay, really quick out of character.” Silicon says.
“Yeah?” Pavel asks.
“How the hell are you going to cause half of that construction to come apart with a bullet? I understand it’s not massively up to code, but at the same time. A bullet is small. It has only so much kinetic energy it can carry and if you bring Axiom into this you’re setting up a flare.”
“Architecture and physics.” Pavel says as he adjusts the gun and then leans away from it. “Look down the scope. It should start to make sense.”
“That’s one of the main cables of that sign. But there’s at least one more and it only needs one to stay upright.”
“Look at the angle, also remember I’ve got a reinforced bullet for this one. It’s designed to stay intact and ricochet.” Pavel says and Silicon rises up to look at the back of the sign again and mentally trace where the bullet will go.
“You’re going to shatter one support and weaken the other.”
“Yes.”
“That is an absurd level of accuracy.”
“When the Undaunted claim to be better than the best of the best, it’s not idle boasting.” Pavel states as he takes a full shooting position again.
“So what’s the event in question?”
“We’re going to move along five positions and they have to find our ‘safe house’ in the point between them all. For that we’re going to need to leave some clues at each one. This first position to let people know they need to look is going to have the bullet casing, the bipod and of course the imprints we’re leaving on the roof gravel. For the next one we’re butting a type of polish on our boots that will get easily rubbed off so they get that, the casing and the imprint.”
“Are we leaving three clues at each place?”
“Yes. Some more obvious than others. Which reminds me.” Pavel says before digging out and tossing a wrapped bar at Silicon. “Eat that. It’s the third clue for the third location. Each one gets a bullet casing and the imprint of us hanging around.”
“What’s the fourth clue then?”
“A novelty sticker from a nearby business. It’ll let all the girls on the case know that Deadshot is staying nearby and has at least a hotel room, if not a full on base of operations.”
“And the last one?”
“Hardest one of all. Only two clues. The imprint and the casing.”
“And the ultimate place is in the middle of all of it...”
“Not exactly middle, but a place where you can reach all five locations without being spotted on a camera. Which is why we’re going there and then back out to relocate each time. So I hope you’re ready to take the stairs, because we got cardio in our future.”
“Oh joy.” Silicon says before a small timer goes off and Pavel grins.
“Show time.” He says as he double checks the wind, tastes the air and then slowly squeezes the trigger on his rifle.
The rifle is silenced and therefore the first sound that the danger makes is the calamitous clang as the grip of the frist cable is shattered and the still very active bullet goes careening downwards and slams into the base that holds the second cable. Cracking it ever so slightly.
Even from their position on the building, both men can hear the screaming groan as the metal slowly gives before the sign suddenly collapses forward and slams into the ‘civilians’ that Deadshot was hired to kill.
“Time to go.” Pavel says rising up as he disengages the bipod mount.
“Really? We’re just going down the stairs?” Silicon asks.
“The elevators have cameras, and the stairwells only have camera’s above the doors. However, the five buildings we’re using are in the middle of a maintenance upgrade that was massively overbooked as about fifteen different buildings decided they wanted the upgrades all at the same time. So these five are at the end of the list.” Pavel explains as he walks down.
“But the older security networks...” Silicon says.
“Pardon, I should have been more clear. The removal of the old equipment is already done for these five buildings, the actual replacement parts are not currently available.”
“And since the stairs are rarely used the security cameras in here are the last of the last priority.” Silicon says and Pavel nods.
“That’s right. Now we need to be able to get to our next location in a hurry. So time to skip some stairs.” Pavel says as he jumps down one flight and then flings himself down the next.
Silicon teleports down to the bottom but only has a few moments before Pavel arrives. He then waves for Silicon to follow him and then leads him through the building in a very strange, roundabout manner.
“We’re avoiding all the cameras they have left aren’t we?” Silicon asks and Pavel nods as he casually exits the building. He also points up and Silicon sees many Sonir in the air, a lot of them in Batman outfits of some kind and clearly scanning the upper areas and completely missing the two men casually walking around dressed like Deadshot with one of them lugging around a gun roughly as big as he is.
“Hey! Hey hey hey! You’re one of the actors right? Playing a bad guy?” A young Sonir girl asks flapping up to them. She’s tiny, dressed in all pink and clearly has gotten into at least a small amount of glitter lately.
“That’s right. Is there something you want?” Pavel asks in amusement.
“Can I take a picture?” She asks holding up her communicator.
“Sure thing little lady.” Pavel answers and she all but throws herself at him and turns in midair.
“Say boogers!” She exclaims.
“Boogers?!” Pavel demands before he hears the little camera go off a few times and she slides down with a giggle to examine her new selfie with the supervillain.
“Thank you mister badguy! Have fun!” She says rushing off with a laugh.
“Well that was adorable. Let’s keep moving.” Pavel states before they cross the street and make it into an a mall. A mall where he immediately leads Silicon into a side passage that’s lacking any kind of signs whatsoever.
“Where are we?”
“The building layout had some design fails. There are unregistered rooms back here. Well... not so much rooms as unused space, gaps between the stores. No security, no cameras, not even on the registration.”
“So is this tresspassing?’
“Even if we hadn’t informed the owners and legally rented the space? No. The place isn’t technically on the building plans so even if we squatted here it wouldn’t be a crime. But since we’re renting it, as is, we’re not only allowed in here, but are the only ones allowed.” Pavel explains as he opens a semi-hidden doorway to reveal.
“A sniper’s lair.” Silicon notes.
“That’s right.”
“This is an almost unfair test. They have to figure out that you weren’t spotted because you avoided the cameras, then look at a building’s blueprints and find out that there’s one place with none whatsoever.”
“That’s right. This is what level four puzzle challenge is about. If they catch us, it’s a win. But catching us is the hard part.” Pavel says and Silicon considers.
“I mean... this seems a little... I don’t know? Unfair?”
“It’s a riddle. Not every problem is solved by shooting things or using brute force.” Pavel replies as he fetches his replacement bipod. “Alright. Time to go. After I fire my shot the girls will all be given a warning about the second crime scene. They can then trace the bullet trajectory to our new location.”
“I still say it’s asking a bit much of people.”
“It’s far more data than Batman in the comic gets.”
“I don’t think comparing people to a person who’s superpower seems to be hyper-intelligence and a hefty dose of denial is fair either.” Silicon notes before Pavel leads him out.
“Probably not.” He admits and they’re shortly out of the mall and climbing up the stairs of another high rise.
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
She rushes to the scene of the next crime. It’s just like the last one. Massive collateral damage, one shot. A single attack, a single actioan and dozens of lives are done. It’s meticulous, it’s brilliant, it can only be Deadshot with that kind of aim and...
“Hey we got one too deep here!” Someone calls out and she’s pulled out of her head.
“What? That... I what?” She asks and looks around. The mannequins in a state of placement. The ‘explosion’ caused by the perfect unleashing of a gas valve that was sheered by a bullet. It blew out the front of a restaurant and left it a mess with all the mannequins in pieces.
“You were brooding girl! I could tell! You were forgetting to pull yourself out!” The other Sonir says and she holds her head.
“I was, wasn’t I?” Damn that’s not good.
“You alright there Batman?” The Undaunted playing the part of Jim Gordon asks.
“Fine, I’m... fine...” She says examining the area again. She lets out tiny pulses of sound and hears the place. The tiny hole where the bullet went through. The scalpel precise sheering of the pipe. No actual restaurants here used gas stoves, so it HAD to be part of the entire event. But still...
She lets out a little click and then imagines a straight line going backwards. Directly from the hole. She turns and sees the top of a large building nearby lines up nearly perfectly with it. “Up there!”
That said she takes off and gains altitude fast. Climbing upwards on the ash flecked wind until she crests over top. Empty already. She lets out a supersonic pulse and there’s a shape far different from the rest among the gravel atop the roof. A little cylinder. One that still stinks ever so slightly as she leans in close.
She steps around the slight indents suggesting where Deadshot laid and sees a slight smudging of some substance on the gravel as well. She doesn’t know what it is but...
“This... what is the puzzle?” She asks herself out loud. “There has to be some kind of answer to this.”
“There’s something up with you isn’t there?” Another Sonir asks as she alights on the landing. She looks back to where more are joining. “If you want it to stay private, keep it in your head. We all have good hearing sister.”
“I...” She begins before swallowing it.
“If you’re not up for these challenges then you’re not up for them and that’s that, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. These are for fun. No one’s lives actually depend on them. There’s no one getting hurt if you don’t do them.”
“Except maybe her ego!” One of the other Sonir calls out and there’s laughter from a friend that lands beside her.
There’s another indicator of the next part of the scene in just a few minutes and they all get the address. A police dispatch stating that a vehicle has had it’s tire shredded and gone wildly out of control.
She stays behind a bit as she thinks. Before sighing and deciding to fly away. Not really feeling her best today. Although completely unsure as to why. Something’s up, but she can’t figure out what.
She sends a message that she’s bowing out of the rest of the little context and will not be taking part of any more for the rest of the day. There’s a brief moment where she smirks as she confirms that no, it’s not something The Undaunted have done, she’s just not at her best.
She swoops downwards and lands at street level in a few moments.
•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•
“Excuse me miss.” Pavel says as he moves around the freshly landed Sonir woman and she outright stares at both him and Silicon as they move towards the next sniping positin. “Something wrong?”
“I bow out of the competition and I stumble on you moving?”
“Life’s funny isn’t it? Sorry, but I have to go.” Pavel says before rushign away with Silicon in tow.

First Last
PS: I really need to figure out what's killing my motivation. My mind keeps wandering and I just can't focus. I don't want to start guzzling caffeine again... but this is getting out of hand.
submitted by KyleKKent to HFY [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:22 johnacosta1717 Meet the all powerful HOA president who when called out on their lack of following their obligations resorts to mafia style tactics.

“Dumbass...
Can I call you dumbass, it seems to be how you prefer to talk to others you disrespectful fuck....
Let's get something absolutely 100% clear... The team at Dorman, whether it's Ed, the secretaries, or anybody else DO NOT work for you. They work for me and the rest of the board. If you have a problem with how things are being handled in the community you will be respectful in dealing with anybody you communicate with. They will convey your concerns to me and the rest of the board and we will handle it.
If you have concerns about how things are currently being handled you should have joined the board during the countless position requests over the past 5-6 years. If you had you would have been aware of just how poorly the boards were handling the finances and concerns of the community. I called into my first meeting in May, and by August the existing board members quit.
To enlighten you a bit since you didn't seem to care about even calling into a board meeting, let me fill you in, Cliff's Notes style... Those annual raises each year we've been having, yeah, those simply offset the costs of doing business. They did nothing to plus up the savings account needed to fund all the various things the HOA is responsible for. So anytime they spent money on tree replacments, sprinkler system upgrades, road crack repair, and multiple iterations of speed bumps, anything; all of that was out of savings without any money going back in. So yeah, this years raise was more than usual becuase the savings is currently at about 25% of what it should be to cover our obligations (based on a Reserve Study that was performed in March).
For the snow specifically since that's your concern - When the landscaper came out the first time at the end of December, when the snow was 2" deep and plowed/shoveled, $1700. When they came out earlier this month when the snow was drifted 2" in spots and little to none in other spots, $1000. So yes, to try to save money we've changed their thresholds and how they will perform the work. Don't expect to see them until it's 3". They will then come out and plow with the truck and clear the sidewalks with an ATV and salt the common areas like the mailboxes and sidewalk ramps at the intersections. If the 3/4" we recieved this morning is too much for you I'd suggest you sell the house and move to AZ.
There have been a ton of things that the previous boards were neglecting, like the lawns and weeds. We've had 2 landscape companies quit over the past 4 years becuse of the boards or other factors. This year we are starting with a 3rd. It's my intention with the new landscaper to try to resolve those things when the weather turns in the spring. It's also my intention to hopefully not have to raise the rates again next year, but that will all depend on how the account balances look as time goes on. If the balances don't begin to show signs of coming back to where they are needed we will do what's necessary.
If you have a problem with the board or how it's run I'd suggest you keep your ears out for when there is an opening. We all just signed on for 3yr terms since nobody else wanted to be involved, so you may be stuck with us for a while.
I trust we can consider the matter of disrespect and snow removal closed.. Your concerns are noted”
submitted by johnacosta1717 to fuckHOA [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:22 BugOperator Players keep rejecting loan offers (FIFA 22)

Doing manager mode and nearly every young player brought up from my youth squad keeps rejecting loan moves (be it just a loan or loan to buy). I have no room in my first team for 50-something overalls, so I want them to get semi-regular playing experience elsewhere; whether it’s to see how they develop or just boost their overall up a bit so they’re a more enticing transfer target. My squad is filling up with these kids who are “unsettled” in the youth squad, but they refuse to go out on loan once I promote them (and then have the balls complain about their lack of playing time), leading to me having to pay to release them because they’re dead weight cluttering up my squad and nobody is interested in them when I list them for transfer. What can I do?
submitted by BugOperator to FifaCareers [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:22 fulminic UFO lore and recent revelations seem to be largely based on a 1998 story from UFO mag. It covers crash retrieval programs, various alien types, "biological robots," and project Zodiac. Puthoff and Kitt Green have referenced this story. Here's a text extract.

Deep Files: Trans-"X"Communiqué: Letter to a UFO Recruit by Greg Halifax
What you're about to read is largely unverified. But that doesn't mean it's not true. It's the type of UFO information that would typically be deeply buried, then carefully studied and compartmentalized by a small faction within the intelligence community, as suits any sensitive black operation. As such, straightforward corroboration is difficult at best. But UFO Magazine has the advantage of more than a decade's worth of collected bits of information and broad-based facts on which to construct some fair extrapolations. Drawn from a range of sources, the following incident reflects upon one of the blackest of American covert operations that deal directly with the UFO phenomenon.
Recruitment and Background
They recruited him when he was fresh from a not-too-harrowing assignment in the Middle East. This was one area of the globe, at least, where the CIA had little trouble justifying its existence. Having some military background, Sedge Masters wasn't too surprised when he was called back for another briefing about the new foreign technology assignment overseen from Wright Patterson Air Force Base. What he'd heard at the first briefing didn't exactly fire his professional instincts. The task sounded less than challenging. He was assured that more information would be coming his way, and that much of it would change his mind about the degree of intrigue his new assignment would hold.
Induction into the Program
Clearances intact, Masters arrived on the base in short order. He was issued a security badge and escorted by an airman to an unmarked building. Once inside, he was escorted by the airman into a room where his security badge was taken from him and a different one given to him in its place. A different airman with a uniform that Masters had not seen before, armed with an M-16 and a sidearm, escorted him into a private room. That man left, and in less than two minutes, another armed and uniformed man entered. He said nothing: Masters was used to this routine. When the soldier had positioned himself in front of the door, Masters turned around to a table on which lay a thick packet of papers. One more glance at the impassive soldier, and Masters began to read.
Introduction Letter
The letter on top carried a number on the first page, but no date or letterhead. "Dear Mr. Masters," it began, "Consider this a deeper introduction to your present assignment. As you were told in last week's special briefing, you were selected for the program less for your wide intelligence background and technical skills than for the results of your psychological profile, both the one you took when you first joined the agency and the one administered earlier this year..."
Pre-WWII Sightings and Post-War Investigations
During the years preceding World War II, informal contacts made by Americans touring in Europe - tasked to do so by then-attorney William Donovan (who was later the head of the OSS in World War II) - revealed that there had been a number of sightings of unusual aerial phenomena and craft over European skies, particularly in the vicinity of German military facilities. The rush of events focused the attention of the military and the OSS on other matters of more pressing concern, although it had been resolved to look into these reports again at the war's conclusion.
The Roswell Incident
Before there could be a full assessment of the implications of these events, in July 1947, two crafts were recovered from the desert near the Roswell Army Air Corps bomber base. One of the crafts was a deltoid wing "lifting body" which had suffered a rupture to the crew compartment and some impact distortion, but which was otherwise intact. The other craft had completely disintegrated either before or upon impact.
Hypotheses and Discoveries
Although there were working hypotheses that these crafts were either (1) secret Soviet surveillance craft designed to spy upon the many advanced technical and military facilities in that region, (2) crafts from some "other dimension" the details of which were and remain unspecified by the proponents of this hypothesis, or (3) crafts from our own future exploring the past through an unknown temporal travel mechanism, it soon became clear that these crafts were from some planet or solar system other than our own, as they were occupied by two kinds of beings which clearly were not of earthly origin.
Extraterrestrial Evidence
The occupants of the deltoid craft were largely intact after the crash. When the special recovery team established for this purpose located the crash, two of the occupants of the deltoid craft were still alive, although one was badly injured and would later die upon being taken to the Roswell Air Corps base. The other survivor was alive and remained so for almost 30 days after the crash. It was able to walk and seemed to understand that it was a captive among intelligent beings like itself. All efforts at communication with the survivor were inconclusive and largely unsuccessful. The three other occupants were dead when the recovery team found them. The general appearance of these creatures was as reported in the recently published, somewhat fanciful 'investigative' books on the subject which have received a certain amount of popular acceptance and which resulted in the recent 50th-anniversary celebration of this event. (Popular attention to this event remains strong.)
Second Craft and Biological Robots
The occupants of the second craft were not found for several more days, as their bodies had been ejected in what appeared to be safety pods similar in purpose to those later employed in such high-performance aircraft as the B-58 Hustler and XB-70 supersonic bombers. These creatures were longer in dimension than the ones of the deltoid craft, and their bodies were dispersed over a much wider area due to the disintegration of their craft. All were dead when found, with their bodies much deteriorated from prolonged exposure to the elements and some having been partially eaten by coyotes and other creatures, all of the latter of which were found dead near the alien corpses.
Analysis of the animal remains and the alien bodies led to the conclusion that the animals died from poisoning caused by ingestion of chemicals in the alien flesh. It appeared that the second group of aliens could not survive if exposed to the Earth's atmosphere. The need to remove all evidence of the event from the two crash sites limited the amount of crash reconstruction which could be accomplished by the recovery team, with the consequence that it has never been made clear what exactly caused the crash.
Cover-Up and Suppression
Unfortunately, the large number of civilian and military personnel who witnessed physical evidence at the crash sites and back at the Roswell base created a significant security hazard which was dealt with by intimidation and bribery of the witnesses to the extent that those means proved effective. Until unofficial investigators, journalists, writers, and others began renewing investigation of the subject in the early 1980s, these techniques were largely successful in keeping the truth of the Roswell event from the public, as well as its ominous implications.
Alien Autopsies and 'Biological Robots'
The autopsies on the bodies of the creatures showed that they were of very light build and clearly not from this planet. The simplicity of their brain structures and non-communication in the face of stalwart efforts by researchers led investigators at the time to conclude that they were not the original designers and builders of the craft involved in the incident. Rather, it seemed that they were 'biological robots,' designed and bred for the purpose of undertaking such dangerous missions as flying through the atmosphere of an alien world. The survivor finally died when its body accumulated toxic waste products from its metabolism. There were no apparent excretory system or sexual organs. Consistent with this 'biological robot' hypothesis was the complete absence of any galley or food stores aboard the craft. Of course, the possibility of there being a 'mother ship' from which these craft came was also considered, as was the less likely possibility that these small craft could themselves attain transluminal speeds.
The Alien Technology
The propulsion system of the craft, of obvious priority interest to our group, was indeterminate for long after its recovery. While still subject to the laws of physics (as we imperfectly understand them), the craft's workings went far beyond our technological grasp at that time. Unfamiliar, nearly magical technology was displayed, devices that we now know as integrated circuits, fiber optics, supertenuous fibers and metals, and an unfathomable power source and drive mechanism, as well as other technology which it is not necessary to discuss in this document.
Implications and The Zodiac
The military implications of the presence of these craft in our atmosphere and the possibility that they may have established friendly communications with our Cold War enemies were obvious and unsettling. The discovery of these craft led to an equally unsettling reexamination of the European intelligence reports referred to above, as well as the postwar investigation by Gen. Jimmy Doolittle of the "ghost rockets" of Norway (see appendix C, attached, top secret report of Gen. James Doolittle). The President was made aware of these developments and ordered the formation of a special group of prominent scientists, Cabinet, military and intelligence officers.
The popular literature bandies about the name of "Majestic 12" or "MJ-12" for this special, secret task force formed by the President. Other names by which it has been identified in the public mind through disinformation programs are "Project Saucer" and "Aquarius." While it is possible that any one or more of these was the name of the group at one time, for most of its existence the code name for the group and the extensive program which it spawned has been and still is "Zodiac," with each of its operational subdivisions known by the name of a different zodiacal sign, including Aquarius.
The Decline of Government Involvement in Zodiac
As the years passed, the operational involvement of high government officials in Zodiac waned to a certain degree, especially with the conclusion of the Eisenhower Administration, although most presidents were still kept informed of key overview facts as they came to light. However, it fell to the Agency's supervisors of Zodiac to determine who else in the government should have access to this very closely-held and highly compartmentalized information, to the point that, like the heads of military intelligence before World War II, they sometimes decided not to share information with certain presidents, including Nixon and Ford.
All other presidents were kept reasonably well-informed, including Jimmy Carter, who went back on his pledge to reveal all of the information the government had on UFOs once he was elected president.
Agency Control and Alien Craft Recovery
As of the early 1980s, the Agency exercised complete control over Zodiac, with the cooperation of the rest of the intelligence community and the military branches, particularly the Air Force and the Navy. From 1947 to the early 1980s, Zodiac recovered eleven other alien craft in various states of disrepair, from a diminutive single-seat flying wing to a rather large craft that had to be trucked into Wright Patterson by dead of night.
Extraterrestrial Beings and Technological Discoveries
Besides the technology, the beings found with these craft are central to the Program's investigations. There seem to be at least four types of occupants, the two described above, as well as humanoids that appear to be almost human and Nordic in appearance, and small, strong, hairy ones.
An Unsettling Incident and New Assignment
Details of the following incident should be carefully considered and recalled, as they will be useful to you during the first phases of your assignment. By the late '60s, Zodiac had been able to recruit members of an elite recovery team.
Within the last 48 hours, the team was dispatched to a remote site in the Midwest where a craft and bodies were collected and ferried to the appropriate locations, seemingly without incident. This time, it’s become clear to our debriefing teams at Wright Patterson that the first members questioned could not account for an hour and a half's worth of time spent at the site.
You have been selected to be part of a newly forming debriefing team whose task will be the correlation and analysis of these events. Your assignment is to find out why even the most senior members of the team shared in this memory gap, and to find out what happened during that hour and a half.
Instructions for the Report
Your report is to be in writing and is to have one original and no copies. It is to be hand-delivered by you to me. It is to bear the security stamps "TOP SECRET," "ZODIAC" and "EYES ONLY." You will let no one see your report but me and you will not share its contents with those with whom you are working at Wright Patterson without my authorization.
Very Truly Yours, Col. David H., USAF
Masters read it through again. When he looked up, an Air Force captain had entered the room. "Are you finished with the letter?" he asked in a flat tone. "I'm done with it," Masters sighed, and for the first time in his professional career heard his own voice waver with what sounded like nervousness. He handed the letter to the captain, who took it without comment, counting the pages.
The captain took out a cigarette lighter and lit the corners of the pages, gingerly dropping them into a red "burn barrel," stirring the ashes with a metal rod. After the papers had been reduced to small wisps of white ash, the captain took another piece of paper out of his briefcase, signed it, and presented it to the airman, who also signed it. The airman then presented it to Masters, who signed the sworn declaration of witnessing the destruction of the document.
Here's the deep dive article by Dolan that also includes the full scan of the UFO mag article. It connects dots between the recent revelations, the Davis/Wilson notes etc.
ChatGPT helped convert the barely readable pdf-to-text conversion to something readable, but preserving the content, only added headers and formating. I was out of tokens so I couldn't convert the other chapters, they're very interesting as well. All chapters are in the provided link.
Just to be clear, not making claims or drawing conclusions just wanted to share this before 3rd part Reddit apps will be killed at 30 June. Yeah fuck you, spez
submitted by fulminic to UFOs [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:19 MTSoul07 Some guidance

I'm currently attending my CC and about to finish my 2 years in December where afterward I would transfer to a four year. I plan on finishing AA but decided to throw away the idea of moving to a 4 year as I can't see myself in my desired major. I decided a few months back that I'm set on this career path and willing to do what I have to. My current plan is to attend NLC in Idaho as they offer the CDL. Afterward, I'd start signing books everywhere while using my CDL to work temporarily at a trucking company near me. I'm willing to move anywhere as I would have nothing holding me back.
I know shit changes and plans aren't certain but this is what I got so far, any advice helps. Also, I know the typical sentiment regarding line school but I don't know anyone in the trade, and my four-year degree never guaranteed me a job right away either. Lineschool will at least load me up with Certs and a CDL and let me know If I really want this.

submitted by MTSoul07 to Lineman [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:18 Menace2Myself_ I’d rather be dead than have BPD

So, this is may be a little long but I’m going to put it out there because I need to get it out. Over the last year, I have struggled heavily with my BPD. I went into depressive/suicidal spirals, I’d split at the drop of a hat, my anxiety was so bad that I didn’t want to be alone but at the same time I’d disassociate from whoever I was with. I was a shell with unpredictable explosive emotions. I shut my husband out during this time and said some awful things. A few months ago I was nearly hospitalized for suicidal thoughts but was let go with a safety plan and started therapy. I honestly think therapy is helping. I have consciously made an effort to make sure I communicate my emotions with my husband so that he understands them just like my therapist has said. I have acknowledged and apologized profusely for the pain I caused during that time, and I have literally tried to put in 110% to repair what I nearly broke. Since then he has brought up several times how awful I was and how he would rather die than to live like that again. He asked me about something specific I said to him while I was splitting and I told him I didn’t mean it. He then said “When you say shit I don’t know if it’s you or your BPD talking. I don’t even know who my wife is” I am trying so freaking hard and doing anything I can to show I am making an effort and I’m sorry and I’m trying to learn to deal with this the best I can and maybe one day be able to say I no longer meet the criteria. I reminded him that I admit I was awful and that I’m trying and then he accused me of throwing my efforts on his face. I hate the damage I have done to everyone I’ve ever tried to have any kind of relationship with. I can’t even stand myself. I would have never chosen this fate for myself if I had the choice between it and not existing at all.
submitted by Menace2Myself_ to BorderlinePDisorder [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:13 GhostRudy was fired last week and picked up my last check. Was charged for made up shit.

I was fired from my job last week, Their reason was they wanted someone with more experience, even tho I mentioned I’m only an apprentice still. I feel like I was holding up my weight for the experience I had, but anyways. it was a service plumbing company in California. Probably worst company I’ve ever worked for. It was small family owned. Boss wife would talk to us like we’re idiots. The day I was fired, they said to return the work shirts in exchange for my last check. I go to pick up my check and I see that they had invoices and receipts in there. I am going to list them down below. -truck repair, they said the truck was broken and had “repairs” done on it. On the invoice of that work. The vehicle wasn’t even the work truck, it was a 2012 Chrysler 300???? So they deducted $200 from me. -Milwaukee m12 batteries, charged me for a 2 pack of batteries, never touched or used their tools. I had my own tools. That was $145 -broken screen on work phone, even tho it was just the screen protector. That was $40 for “repairs” -Then a random repair for something that’s not even listed, that was $44 What would y’all recommend I do, some of my family is saying to take legal action. Any advice I’m only 22 so it’s all new to me 🥲
submitted by GhostRudy to Plumbing [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:10 mrmangar Is it possible to rent someone’s driveway for a day?

I am having a mobile body shop come to me to repair a dent on my car, but after checking with my landlord this isn’t allowed. As such, I’m looking to pay someone to let me park my car on their driveway for ~6 hours on a Monday so that the tech has a space to work.
Aside from Prked or Spacer, does anyone have any ideas on where to look for something like this? I know it’s kind of a weird request, but figured you guys might have some ideas. I’m in WeHo if that matters.
submitted by mrmangar to AskLosAngeles [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:01 handofjupiter Salt Shed Info (e-mail from venue)

What time are doors?
Doors open at 5pm
What time does the music start?
The show will start at 6:40pm
*Subject to change
What are the set times?
6:40pm - Kamikaze Palm Tree 7:50pm - King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard
*Subject to change
I purchased a ticket to the show. What access does my ticket grant me? GA: A GA ticket for a show at the Fairgrounds grants you access to the viewing area directly in front of the stage, as well as the newly installed bleachers! Seating is limited and will be first come, first served. Premium: If you purchased a premium ticket, everything you need is in the premium area! Enter the Fairgrounds via an expedited entry lane on Elston Ave. Enjoy the premium viewing balcony and rooftop featuring the best skyline views in the city. You also have access to premium bars and a lounge area.
What's the bathroom situation?
So glad you asked. There will be porta-potties available outside, but our indoor space will be open as well so you can access the real bathrooms.
Will there be water?
Certainly! There is a water station outdoors as well as water stations inside near the restrooms. Empty plastic water bottles under 32 oz. and CamelBak/hydration packs will be permitted.
Will there be parking?
There is free street parking available close to the venue. This availability is first come, first served, and we recommend paying close attention to posted street signs.
Additionally, there are a number of paid private parking lots in the area.
Is there valet?
Yes! We offer safe and secure valet parking located in the lot across from the Salt Shed at 1401 N Magnolia Ave between Elston and Le Moyne. You can either pay upon arrival or reserve a spot online beforehand HERE.
If I'm not driving, what's the best way to get here?
Bike, rideshare, and public transportation are the preferred methods of transportation to our venue.
Bike: There will be bike parking available on Blackhawk Street near the main entrance of the venue.
Public Transportation: Division/Milwaukee blue line stop is .7 miles away North/Clybourn red line stop is .9 miles away Damen blue line stop is 1.4 miles away Several buses make stops near The Salt Shed, including the 70 (Division), 72 (North), and 9 (Ashland). There may be other options depending on your location.
Rideshare: We will have a designated area for rideshare pick-ups and drop-offs near the main entrance of the building.
Will there be a bag check?
We will have a bag check. Space will be limited, so if you have to check your bag we recommend arriving at the venue early.
What are the prohibited items at the venue?
Please note our bag size limit of 12" x 12" x 6" - Bags larger than this will not be permitted. You can see the full list of prohibited items here.
Will this show be cashless?
Yes, all of our shows will be cashless.
Will the Salt Store be open?
Yes! Our Salt Store will be open with merch and tickets (at reduced fees) aplenty from the Salt Shed and other favorites like Empty Bottle, Thalia Hall, and SPACE.
Will there be food and beverage available at the show?
We will have a variety of food and beverage options available for the shows: Pizza Friendly Pizza (see details below) Food trucks! Including: Cafe Tola DönerMen Happy Lobster Yum Dum Food Truck Plus, pop ups from: Beach Ave BBQ Tola Tacos And last but not least, a comprehensive beverage program of Chicago-based draft favorites, house made craft cocktails, and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks.
submitted by handofjupiter to KGATLW [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 23:00 AutoModerator What is #VALZUBIRIAGENDA and some ideas and insights

The 3 basic parameters of hashtag #Valzubiriagenda:

  1. We artists and everyone else can write and self-publish art- and artist-related books: memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs. Books are forever. Pamphlets and brochures are not books.
  2. We announce a schedule of increasing prices of our art pieces, which includes quantities (scarcity numbers) per price point and overall (the total quantity of art pieces we might ever make). This helps art traders, art investors and art collectors speculate or even stop speculating and instead join a community of investors working together to hopefully skyrocket to the higher announced prices in a shorter span of time.
  3. We can use the NFT world, because NFTs provide the tracking (who owns what) and trading.
We can also not be involved with NFTs. Stores and individuals can help sell art using online presence and our catalogs in the stores. If this trends, or once this trends, even expensive art can be sold by neighboring businesses, without exclusivity. Commission systems do not have to be standardized. Art investors can produce their own catalogs to leave at the cafés. Even the cafés can produce their own catalogs.
Valzubiriagenda NFTs
NFTs only came about a few years ago. But I had been working on this since the 1990s. I wrote a book, Valzubiriagenda, along with fellow artist Silverio Perez, and released it in 2018 (Amazon and elsewhere), tackling everything related to #1 & #2. We'll come up with #3 in a later book/ memoi marketing book.
Any artist, including tangible artists can release 10,000 NFTs if the artist chooses to do so. For tangible artists, the NFT first becomes an Art Commission Contract for sight unseen, yet-to-be made art. Once the art is made, the NFT becomes proof of ownership that the actual, tangible art is theirs.
Warehousing our tangible art
Another related idea is that the tangible art may be warehoused by the artist so that the NFT traders continue to trade. This means that even 10-ton 10-foot tall sculptures can be owned and traded by anyone without worrying about shipping, reshipping, scratches, smudges, parts breaking off, etc. The newness of the pieces remain because they are stored by the artist, source, gallery, etc. The art piece gets shipped to the art collector, the ultimate owner.
An artist who makes ceramic coffee mugs - smaller art pieces, can release 10,000 NFTs with a schedule of increasing prices so that NFT traders can trade immediately. The 10,000 coffee mugs can get damaged, so as they are made, they continue to be stored by the artist, until the time when art collectors decide to have the art pieces shipped to them.
Why only now?
I decided to write as many book-length memoirs as I can before I came out to promote this.
I'm an artist and an author. Both need time to "master." I would not even fully use "master" on myself, because there's always something new, even to my own art, my own writing and publishing.
I am now claiming that I'm the visual artist who has produced the most artist memoirs in the world. I have 5 on Amazon. I count Valzubiriagenda as both a marketing book and a memoir-of-sorts, because it has a lot of my own life lessons on writing and publishing. I would not care to contest my claim of having the most memoirs. I will release 5 more over the next 3 years.
BARTER! Get help to write, photograph art and publish your books!
Anyone can hire 11 ghostwriters for 11 memoirs. If you can make art, but you cannot write, then barter your forever art with those who can help you produce forever books.
I don't feel the pressure of writing and publishing because I feel my focus should be on art students and art experts who would study my art and my books 100 years from now. Don't expect relatives and friends to read your books.
I call myself the Dollman
For my NFTs, I am proposing to make dioramas - my original, costumed, bejeweled porcelain dolls in backdrops that will also have precious metals and gemstones. This way I can incorporate precious metals and gemstones in my work, to make sure that people perceive my art as expensive, just in case I myself don't become "famous" - there's no need to get world famous. We are artists and all we need to do is to satisfy the art niche.
Use your laptop now!
I will encourage you to start writing your book-length memoir. Write, Edit and then Self-publish it. Get help. Why wait a hundred years for someone to write about you when all you need is a laptop and a nearby coffee shop.
Don't start counting chickens before the eggs hatch. I have encountered a lot of would-be writers who immediately see themselves as bestselling. world famous assets to society. Two even wanted me to sign NDAs (Nondisclosure agreements), because they did not want me to steal their book ideas.
Here's a suggestion. I would not personally do it. From one manuscript can come 2 books: The Original Draft (unedited, with misspellings, considered to be an art piece, scanned pages(?) of your handwritten original effort), and The Final Edition (edited).
PROVENANCE!
Another way to enhance our investability, tradability and collectability is PROVENANCE - how art ownership proceeds through time. The way this can be done is also through publishing books. Everyone can write their memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs, including traders, investors and art collectors. In effect, we artists can continue to be included or mentioned in even more books, without any additional effort by us.
You as an investor, reseller, trader, art collector should be able to publish a catalog with 250 works by 250 different artists, but they need to agree to this right from the start - it's your money, you should require them to follow your version of the hashtag #valzubiriagenda parameters, which preferably should include permission for you to publish their art. Why would you track down 250 artists later?
No exclusive contracts
If you're a café, you can call for artists, and come up with a book with for example, 30 artists, with a chapter devoted to each artist's profile and images of the artist's art.
You can distribute your catalogs to businesses and individuals near and far and online.
The book Valzubiriagenda even cites that funeral homes and janitors closets can sell art, with or without exclusivity. Airline catalogs can include million dollar art pieces. Car manufacturers, showrooms and even car repair shops can sell art as well. Everyone should be able to do this, anywhere in the world, especially not just because of the pandemic, but right now, we are in really bad economies.
What's with the name #Valzubiriagenda
I was into conspiracy theories in 2018, and this term, "The Mandela Effect," was popular. I had read many times that an artist coined the term, but I had to research online, for her name, many times, before remembering it. I'm not good at remembering names. It took me a year and a half to finally tell you that Fiona Broome coined "The Mandela Effect."
I also thought I might have to research trademarks and copyrights just to come up with a generic name. So I decided on "Valzubiriagenda." I was not really sure at first, but I decided to use it as the title for my book (with co-authoartist Silverio Perez) so that there would be no turning back and I can move on.
Am I a FUTURIST?
Someone I recently met this May 2022 just called me a futurist.
In the 1990s, I proposed to a pension fund that they can raise billions of dollars, especially for emergencies, or as needed, or out of desperation, if the pension fund purchases a quantity of art from an artist who not only has a current, reasonable price, but an announced future price that the artist wants to reach.
That future price would obviously be higher than the current price. The art commission contract for multiple art pieces can be taken to the fund's financial lender for a loan. The higher future price can be used for financing purposes.
The pension fund's treasurer, a publicly elected official, said this idea might work, but we had to keep this a secret and discuss this some more, because other pension funds might copy and do this prematurely. This idea had to come from the two of us. The treasurer needed his votes and I needed credentials.
Added into the pot was my idea that I, as the artist, will also write one book-length artist memoir. This was and still is a strong factor, because the leadership and marketing books I had read then mentioned a strong tip. If you want to advance in your field, write a full-length book that is related to the field.
Unfortunately, the elected official, the treasurer of the pension fund, who was also a friend, passed away - he was old and had ailments. At that point in time, I cannot just approach another pension fund treasurer to share this idea with.
I realized I had to write a few memoirs. I needed to set an example for other artists, so I needed to write more than one memoir. Then I felt I should also make ready another book - the how-to of what I'm up to. I wrote Valzubiriagenda, which was a memoir of sorts. I knew how long it would take me to write a book, so I had to make sure I can also consider this book a memoir.
In 2008, I imagined that someone like Bernie Madoff, or a fund like Lehman Brothers, would be desperate enough to use this to save themselves and their companies. I was not ready. I had only written 1 manuscript for a memoir.
In 2012, I released Dollman the Musical, A Memoir of an Artist as a Dollmaker. Once again, I was not ready because writing it depressed me a little, and I knew I had to write more.
In 2014, I released 3 memoirs, and re-released Dollman the Musical. Besides releasing regular books, I released special editions of the 4 books, which had a "Special Secret Insert for Bankers," which explains my ideas of an announced schedule of exponentially increasing prices, to satisfy investors, and the publication of artist memoirs, to satisfy art collectors.
In 2014, I also issued out a press release. Google "Can Billion Dollar Artist Save Investors and World Economy Valentino Zubiri PRWeb August 19 2014" and you will see the press release.
What I did was stake a claim on my ideas. I did not promote my books and the press release. I just wanted them to stay online, like a sleeping giant or a dormant volcano. I even designed 3 of the book covers to look like indie books from the 1980s. I was planting the seeds, thinking they will eventually grow and bear fruit in the future.
In 2015, I was interviewed by Richard Syrett, about one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately. This book is my memoir with paranormal stories. I could have pursued promoting my paranormal stories, but I wanted to be known first as a visual artist and memoirist, so I allowed myself one interview related to Hocus Pocus Lately. Richard Syrett has(had?) his own syndicated radio show, The Conspiracy Show with Richard Syrett, about the paranormal. He also guest hosts on Coast to Coast AM, another internationally syndicated show about the paranormal.
In 2018, I released Valzubiriagenda (co-authored by artist Silverio Perez, a fellow artist). Finally, this book is "the how-to of what I'm to."
I'm going to end this with some strangeness. In 1986, a lady at a religious gathering went into a trance and left a good number of messages. Supposedly, anyone who got into a trance would have messages, but once the trance was over, the person would not remember what was said.
I was not part of the group, but the lady turned her head to face me. She "foretold" that whatever I would decide to do in the future, it will take time, but it will be the right thing. This is one of my stories in one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately.
The Tulipmania of 1634-37
I discovered that there was this incident of rare tulips becoming collectible during the Dutch Golden Age. There were tulips so rare and so well-desired that their prices equaled to that of a house. You can read more about this online (Wikipedia) or watch a few YouTube videos about it.
Here is the most useful idea that I gleaned from the Tulipmania. The tulip bulbs remained safe inside nurseries. The traders were carrying the deeds of ownership to the tulip bulbs.
Then NFTs came to the forefront
I started learning PHP, an HTML scripting language, and MySQL, the database that PHP can connect to in the background, in 1999, when there were only 3 books about PHP and MySQL at the bookstores.
By 2014, I was trying to figure out how to make the "ledger," or database that can be used to update ownership and who can be contacted. If we are trading art, then the art ownership should be updated.
Then NFTs came about. This can be used as our ledger. Everyone can immediately trade NFTs of future, yet-to-be made art pieces, especially because it takes time to make tangible art.
NFTs actually went a step ahead, by allowing digital art to be traded.
The only setback with NFTs, in my opinion, is that it still lacks a commission system for resellers and representatives.
For example, if a café wants to represent me, then they can promote me at their café and on their online pages. If I make one piece of art that will be exclusively represented by a gallery, then that commission will be different and more specific. As ownership is transferred, the subsequent owners should be able to reset the commission. We should also have the option of giving commissions to hundreds of representatives at one time with different percentages if need be.
The recent crypto crash
Lately, we have observed that NFTs and cryptocurrencies have been behaving like the stock market and other markets. They have been fluctuating.
I believe that it is time for a trend which discourages fluctuation of prices.
I have also seen YouTube videos where social influencers are encouraging us to be on the lookout for exponentially profitable ventures, because we have all seen this happen with the exponential increase of Bitcoin and Ethereum.
Let's see if #Valzubiriagenda trends
We can announce present and future art prices. The galleries won't do this (yet?) because they follow a more traditional approach to the business of art.
We have a choice of using incrementally or exponentially increasing prices. We still reserve the right to change things in the future, so everyone should know to follow the latest update.
If this trends, if you as an artist simply announces that you will write an artist memoir, or that you will include the future works in future art books, you might have more art traders, investors and collectors approaching you.
Get your pen, paper and calculator
Imagine yourself as an artist, where you are right now. Let's just say you still do not have a book about yourself and your art yet. Imagine now that you have a memoir out there. Don't you think it makes sense to charge more than what you are charging now? Writing and publishing books is just the beginning. I'm just standardizing this approach. The books also say to do other related projects. In my case, getting Dollman the Musical onstage is one idea. You will have other related projects, but the publication of memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs will help all of us.
You can also imagine that a law firm that has meeting rooms, with someone who wants to form a local #valzubiriagenda group, can have meetings. A local café can do the same. Local photographers for your art, writers, editors, book designers, proofreaders and others can join in.
I suggest have printed books to share. 15 copies of your memoir or art books will be better than an e-reader or laptop or your phone to show. These gadgets can be stolen, sabotaged, broken, have coffee spilled on them, etc. 15 printed books means simultaneously showing to 15 people. You can even give them away to potential resellers, investors, traders and collectors.
When it rains, it pours, as in the days of Noah
There's a saying, "When it rains, it pours." There is a negative interpretation and a positive interpretation.
Negative: When trouble comes, they cascade to even more.
Positive: When opportunity comes knocking, more follow suit. We can assume that if one gets our art because of #valzubiriagenda, more want to do it now, because of the rising prices, and FOMO - fear of missing out. What will they lose if they miss the boat?
As I have said earlier, if the #valzubiriagenda trends, if you announce a future memoir or art catalog, you might have an increase of investors, traders and art collectors who would want to check you out. You might encourage more sales. Just remember to write and publish that memoir and art catalog.
There's this saying, "As in the days of Noah." Imagine Noah, building his ark, with members of his own family, putting all his time and effort into it. Noah was a nice guy. I'm sure every once in a while a neighbor offered him coffee, or chai latte, or whatever refreshing drink they might have back then.
Here's the lesson to be learned. Just because they offered him some type of bubble tea drink, or coca cola, they still didn't make it to the ark. Rubbing shoulders with actors does not make you an actor. I have told my artist friends to write their memoirs. They told me that once they see me succeed, after all these many years of seeing my seemingly useless efforts, then they will write their memoirs and follow the road that I had paved for them.
Good luck to them, but if I were you, act now, get my art or make art. Support the 5-year old artist whose parent promised to release a comprehensive art catalog. If you get that 5-year old's art, and mine, I would be honored to be in the same art catalog that you will produce. I'm already successful at that point. You have gotten the mission just right.
I have already claimed to have written the most book-length artist memoirs in the world. Dethrone that claim. Barter. Use ghostwriters. Success to me means facing God one day and saying, I wrote my memoirs and left the world a legacy of books and art. I will not tell God, smiling and proudly, that I encouraged a run for my art by announcing a schedule of exponentially increasing prices that reached 9 figures. I'm sure God knows we had fun.

JOIN THIS GROUP

If you want to try out #valzubiriagenda, in any capacity, join this group. Let others know about this group as well.
If you are an artist, you can let everyone know here that you will produce your memoir, art catalogs, etc. It's okay if you don't know how to go about publishing yet, I will discuss this. Please be honorable enough to produce what you promise to produce.
If you want to meet fellow artists, investors, resellers, etc., join us here.
If you are a book writer, editor, proofreader; if you can photograph art pieces; if you are a book designer, etc., join us here. Let us know if you charge, barter for art, or both.
If you have your own tips and knowledge to share, join us here.
If you have underaged artists you are managing (parents, etc.) join us here.
Join this group if you want to sell works. Post your works. You web links. I'm sure I will.
You can announce meetings in your area. You might have meeting rooms, a café, restaurant, etc. where people can meet. In the future, you can have the regular show and tell, where books can be shown and shared.

Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, Artist, Memoirist
Underaged artists are welcome here, so please be mindful of your language. We cannot post your adult-oriented art pieces, but you can direct us to a separate page or community. There will be limits to your posts, and there will be adult-oriented art that we cannot allow to be posted.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, artist & memoirist
submitted by AutoModerator to valzubiriagenda [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 22:54 Cool_Business_3872 Repair Suggestions

Repair Suggestions
So, I recently wrecked my EUC (Begode Master), after it cut out while I was braking during wobbles. (It was all bad, I know.) I was going about 27-29mph. The brake light was shattered, kickstand bracket bent, and little lip of plastic near one of the screws in the lower part of the batter pack was bent…other than that, I thought that was all..until I got home and removed the kickstand bracket, and tried bending it back into shape to where it wasn’t close to the tire, and it—I initially .…it sounds like the tiny, thin little nibs of rubber on the tread of the tire are rubbing up against the inside area of the battery pack, when I’d brake/go backwards, i’d hear the sound of rubber and plastic squeaking together.
I removed the kickstand bracket for a second time, and flipped the wheel over. The tire/motor seem much closer on one side of the wheel than the other…i know that wheels can look off-center, but I am trying to figure out id what I am seeing is normal, if something else is bent and needs to be replaced. After removing the the kickstand bracket, I the squeaking of rubbeplastic is not happening when I brake/go backwards, and the wheel seems to be riding fine, but I believe there is a slight bulge in the innertube from the impact after the wreck…
I will place some photos, and if others with Begode Masters, or individuals with experience repairing wheels/Begode Masters could please take a look, I’d be greatly appreciative. So far, Ewheel has sent me a new brake-light lens/cover, and a new controller just to be safe, due to the cut-out while braking, but with the photos I have sent, and the 3-4 request for insight & suggestions, and a request for a new kickstand bracket, they still have not responded…I know they’re busy, so I am trying not to bother them, so this is my next option. Also, I live in Austin Texas, so if anyone knows of individuals who offer repairs in the area, please let me know…
Again, the wheel seems to be riding fine, even with a little bulge in the inner-tube, but I want to get reassurance that it’s good to go, before I go out on a ride that goes faster than 25mph and a ride further than 3-5miles.
What do you see? Is there anything that makes you think something needs to be replaces aside from the parts sent, or the inner tube, which will be replaced soon?
submitted by Cool_Business_3872 to ElectricUnicycle [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 22:11 Negativeghostraider 2004 Yukon Transmission Done?

Hey all I have love have a 2004 GMC Yukon SLT with 187k miles on it and I think my transmission just died on me. Driving around on my way home last night I noticed while turning slowly the car would make a couple of jerks as I rotated the wheel back, thought I had hit or ran over something in the neighborhood, checked my tires and under carriage and nothing looked off. Fast forward to this morning and as I'm leaving my neighborhood with my family and making slow tight turns the truck continued to kick back at me, only more than two times and continued as I straightened out. It kinda felt like it does when traction mode activates which always seemed to me to work inconsistently in the first place. I kept driving slowly around and it got worse to where it wasnt stopping at all. As I muster home my truck literally jumping back as i accelerate ever so slightly it just loses all engagement with the transmission and won't accelerate or change gears while in drive and the transmission sounds like crackling sound coming from it. I barely was able to roll it to my driveway, and it had no engagement for any gear and I would continue to hear a cracking sound as moved it in and out of park. So that's where I'm at right now, it's parked on the curb wondering what your thoughts are on what happened to the tranny and is it completely fucked and need replacement or does it sound repairable. I thought it seemed weird that turning specifically seemed to spark the reaction. Need to get it to a shop asap it's my vehicle for the week with the kids. Thanks guys!
submitted by Negativeghostraider to AskMechanics [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 22:07 LukeWasNotHere Unforgettable/Infamous Humans - Noah Taliesin

[This article needs additional citations for verification. Please help improve this article by adding citations to reliable sources. Unsourced material may be challenged and removed.]
“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”
Anecdotes
“As the fire consumed the house around me a single figure walked calmly through the flames. He neither flinched nor hurried as he was nearly seared by fire, a cacophony of wood and smoke and death. He walked towards me, his hair of charcoal, his breath still seen in that cold night.
He did not ask if I was okay, he did not get my permission, nor did he check to see if I was still alive, but grabbed me as though I weighed nothing, and rushed out of my once home. Laid me delicately on the grass, and rushed into the next engulfed house.” - Caelum Civilian
“It is said that out of the six Human generals, the one called Noah is the most docile, most calm, and weakest of them. It is also said, he could kill any of us without hesitation and certainly without effort. Both of these facts are true.” - Caelum General, Codename “V”
Legal Name
Noah Taliesin
Preferred Name
Noah Taliesin
Nicknames
The Keeper
The Hero
The Master of Deaths
The Prince of The Hellworld
The Calm Before The Storm
Birthday
Earth time: February 23, (year unknown)
Descriptions
Known Facts: Male, Human. Approximately early twenties during the war.
Possibly: Of average Human height and weight. European descent. Blond hair. Large scar that blinded his left eye.
Possibly: Below average Human height and weight. European descent. Black hair. Wears glasses.
Early Life
Born on Earth, in the small walled town of Eden. To two currently still living parents (names unknown) he was their only child. He was not interested in politics, or in school, having a fear of public speaking and a stutter. Spending most of his childhood reading and writing short stories and novels. Usually about the tribe of Legacy’s that attacked Eden’s walls. He attended Eden’s only school from elementary to high school “Don Juan School of Eden”.
Becoming Mayor
Once he turned eighteen, the election of Eden's new mayor took place. Like all elections in Eden it was decided by placing names of all the members of the town in a hat above the age of eighteen, excluding all previous mayors and people interested or accused of being interested in becoming mayor. His name was drawn to his dismay, writing in his diary that night “Shit.” and leaving the rest of the page blank.
He was forced to lead the town and did so for a few months, until The Dropped landed on Earth, there seeing an opportunity in getting aid to help fight off the Legacy's asked The Dropped leaders (Harry, Jay and Rue) to fight them, which they agreed to. Moving the other seventy-five members of The Dropped into Eden, and helped fight off the Legacys.
First Contact
Once the Caelum prisoners landed and captured Rue, and after Rue killed five of the Caelums and escaped, the First Caelum Human War took place. Eden became the main base for The Dropped and a truce was formed with the few Legacy tribes still at war with The Dropped.
Noah became a general in the conflict. During this time The Dropped began to teach him how to become a good leader. Getting him over his stutter and fear of public speaking, along with teaching him how to fight.
One day near the end of the war an unknown person found a cache of firearms and explosives in a bunker under Eden. This turned the tide of the war leading to the surrender of the Caelum prisoners.
The Great War
Once the Caelum prisoners explained that they were forced to come to Earth to test if it was worth conquering by The Queen, it was actually Noah who first vocalized joining the rebels, going to the Caelum planet and overthrowing the Queen. Once the ships were repaired the Humans and Caelums went together to their home planet.
After The Battle of the Factory and its capture by rebel forces, Arcade, Harry, Jay, Jude, Rue and Noah became the Human leaders of the rebellion. The next nine months were marked by dozens of battles and heavy casualties on both sides.
Noah’s leadership was instrumental in several victories in the war including The Battle of The 7th Station, The Great “Retreat” and The Burning. Most notably the rescue of the captured Human generals late into the war. Known as Operation: Ark.
Current Affairs
Noah is still alive and still the mayor of Eden. It is not known if he is married or has children.
References
  1. The Most Feared Man In The Galaxy
  2. The First Battle
  3. Here’s To The Losers
  4. Deadly First Contact
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submitted by LukeWasNotHere to HFY [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 21:55 TraumaShmauma Long post- seeking advice with smear campaign and false accusations of abuse

TLDR: I’ve finally had enough of the cheating, lies, manipulation, and abuse and I’m ready to leave for good but my life is in shambles and I’m afraid of him. Seeking advice on how to navigate and recover from this terrible situation I’ve put myself in.
I’ll try to be as brief as I can. It’s a lot…
I was with my child’s daddy for my whole adult life. 14 years. He’s all I ever knew and for the most part, our relationship was great. There was no cheating or abuse. He was a good dad and my best friend. The last couple years were a nonstop barrage of curveballs and hardships that took a big toll on both of us and our relationship. He made some big mistakes that hurt us a lot and I eventually decided we needed to separate.
When I left, he turned into a man I didn’t recognize. It was and still is traumatizing. I thought we’d be best friends, or at least good coparents. I expected him to be angry and fight me initially but I had no idea he was capable of what he’s done. He hates me. False accusations of domestic abuse and infidelity, accusations of mental illness and unfit parenting. Vicious smear campaign and endless frivolous litigation from his team of very expensive men’s rights lawyers trying to take our child from me.
It was the worst thing that had ever happened and I didn’t understand. I was a stay at home mom and we weren’t married so when I left, we agreed to “nest” in our home while it sold, taking turns staying with our daughter to ease her into the transition. But when I left the first night, he changed the locks on our home, filed a police report of lies and a protective order not allowing me near our home or daughter, and hired a lawyer to petition for full custody. He cleared out my bank account. I was penniless with nothing but an overnight bag and my car. Nothing ever stuck because it was always based on lies. He would drop the accusations before we ever saw a judge. But then would start the whole thing over again.
One after another, I was able to prove my innocence against his lies. Even has a full psych eval with third party input that took a week with one of the top doctors in the state to put to rest his claims of being delusional and mentally unstable. The doctor said that I was depressed and had ptsd from what he’d done but that I was otherwise mentally sound. He also noted that in all of his career, he’d never had someone try so hard to manipulate him into a diagnosis and that my ex’s reaction when he caught him in a lie was troubling. He recommended he have a psych eval as well but I didn’t have the 7k to pay for it and I just kept hoping that he would tucker himself out and stop wanting to hurt me. It wasn’t like him and I attributed everything to him feeling helpless and afraid himself, and betrayed and broken hearted that I left. He really is a good man. I hoped if I stayed the course and didn’t fight back other than defending myself, he would want to move forward and focus on rebuilding his life and giving our sweet baby the best childhood possible. I only ever asked for 50/50 and no child support, despite being her primary caretaker while he worked (at his request) for her entire life until then. I wanted nothing but to be left alone.
It was only a little over a year in and I certainly was not ready or healed enough to be dating. But things were getting better. He’d run out of things to accuse me of. I got a job and a cute apartment for my girl and me and it was finally steady. I thought I’d dip my toe back in and try casually dating. I shouldn’t have. I was lonely and still struggled on the days I didn’t have my daughter.
It didn’t take long before I met him. Oh my gosh. An angel. It was whirlwind. I’d never met anyone like him and I didn’t know love could be so good. The most charming, romantic, handsome, perfect man in the world. And he wanted me!?! It was crazy. I was smitten. It was passionate and intimate and exciting every single day. He’d hand write me the most beautiful love letters. My apartment looked like someone died with the amount of flowers he sent. He was always planning amazing adventures for us and doting on me. It made it all make sense. It was all worth it because it lead me to him.
I’m an idiot… And introduced him to my daughter four months in. I’d never been so sure about anything. I mean, we’d already mapped out our future together. This was for keeps. Might as well lean in! And my god, they hit it off instantly. She adored him. She lit up when he came around. He’d bring a bouquet of flowers for each of us. They’d text each other memes and jokes. Ugh my heart. My girl doesn’t like men.. She’s sassy and the way she latched onto him was proof that this was all meant to be.
He has a daughter about the same age! They loved each other, too. My girl always wanted a sibling and it couldn’t be more perfect. My life was perfect. He was the sweetest daddy. He always planned an adventure the weekends we had our girls. He was so thankful I let him be a part of our lives and told me he took it very seriously. He would be a man she could look up to. He would show her stoicism and strength and restore what she had lost from the trauma of what her father did.
He said he was going to marry me. He’d text me house listings and tell me stories of how we’d spend our evenings reading to each other on the porch and watching our babies play.
It was only 6 months in that something changed. He would snap at me for things I didn’t understand. He would get wasted and yell at me for not really loving him. Accuse me of cheating or using him or wanting to make him my “little b**** boy.” It was horrible. I would pour myself into trying to explain away whatever he was on about but it never worked. Always ended in me fleeing and him blocking me for a day or two. Then he would come back full of remorse and regret and say he realized he was looking at it all wrong. He just loved me so much. He would be so sweet again.
I didn’t understand. I’d never experienced anything like this. The highs or the lows. And I loved him so much. I loved the future we were building.
Not long after, during one of his rages, he told me he’d been cheating on me. Not to confess, but to hurt me. He hates when I cry and it makes him so cruel. I was crying about him being mean and mad at me for some drunken thing he made up and he let me have it. Said the meanest things. Ripped me to pieces. And then told me he was sleeping with a beautiful young nurse who was much more fun than me.
I could go on and on. But the gist is that I kept taking him back. And it kept getting worse. Before long, I was completely isolated from my friends and spend every second I had trying to make him happy and get back to the yum we had before.
He’s now admitted to having 6 physical affairs and doesn’t know how many women he “talked to.” I know of at least 3 others that he slept with.
Each time I would find out, he would rage at me and then block me and go be with other women for a few days. Which was bad enough but then I found out about the smear campaign. He’d been spreading vicious lies about me. And most of them mirrored the same accusations my child’s father said. That was intentional. He told everyone in his life that I was mentally ill, abusive, violent, controlling. That I stalked him and hit him. He told people I tried to stab him one night.
I found this out because he called my child father and told him all of these things. He claims he was drunk and doesn’t remember it, which could actually be true but I don’t know. My kids dad recorded the phone call and used it to file a motion to take her from me.
He kept promising he would come clean and fix everything he did. Kept saying he needed a couple days to figure out how and to make sure he did me justice. But it kept not happening. It’s been a year now and every time I break down and demand he finally clears my name, he managed to twist the whole conversation into me just wanting revenge for the past and I’m a vengeful abuser that doesn’t love him. And then leaves and blocks me again.
A few months ago, after yet another breakup, I was done. I left for good. But I’m still an idiot and when he came back, he said he had an epiphany and he couldn’t stand the shame and pain of suddenly realizing what he’d done to me. He was ready to be honest and do whatever he could to fix what he broke.
We sat down and he admitted in detail to all the women he physically cheated with. Admitted the lies he told about me. Explained his reasons for everything, which were basically that he’s a scared little boy that doesn’t think I could ever love him and he needed the comfort and validation of others and couldn’t see what it did to me. Partially compartmentalization and partially thinking I wouldn’t care anyway because I didn’t actually care about him and was probably doing all the same things behind his back.
It was an exhausting and emotionally taxing conversation but it was so good to me. He cried with remorse and held me and validated all the things he’s worked so hard to make me feel bad for. I believed him. I had hope again but I was too mentally drained to continue and he was too so we decided to “love bubble” for a couple days and then sit down and actually take steps to fix what he did to me.
When it came, he went right back to the same narrative and behavior as before. That I wanted to punish him and rub his nose in his mistakes and ruin his life. I was livid. I left and took his iPad. Found out he was still cheating with multiple women, that the “truth” he told me was bull, that he was still smearing me and nobody even knew we were seeing each other. And that one of the affairs was with a 19 year old girl he met on a hunting trip while he was still married. He wrote her love letters and poems all day and then snuck her off and got her drunk and slept with her in the backseat of his truck. He hasn’t seen her since but they send nudes and declare each other their soulmates and talk about how they’ll end up together someday. We’re in the process of planning a trip together in the next month.
Gross.
She was 19 years old and he was 41 and married with a child when he went after her. And they’ve continued on for 3 years. One of the love letters he sent her was mine. I wrote it to him. He stole my words and used them to seduce this girl. I found out recently he used that same letter on several of the women he cheated with. It makes me sick.
I think I stayed so long because I felt so helpless in my life. I just wanted to give my daughter a happy family and be a normal person. And I thought I’d found that so when everything was proving otherwise, I was too scared and weak to admit it. I gaslit myself because I was scared what it meant for me to have to go against two men that want to hurt me. I am still too scared.
I still don’t understand. I’m not perfect but I’m good to the men I love. I spoil them. I fulfill all of their fantasies. I’m patient and generous and give endless grace and always look for the good under a mistake. I’m the best hype girl. I love nothing more than lifting up the people I love and showing them how powerful and worthy they are. I hate letting people down.
I have only ever once turned down sex with him. and it was after he’d just yelled at me and made me cry because I found out he rawdogged a tinder woman in our bed and let me sleep in the dirty sheets. He got so angry and accused me of thinking he’s a predator and he ripped the sheets off the bed and threw them at me so hard that when I blocked it, it made my hand hit me in the face and gave me a black eye. Then he chased me out of the house while I was scurrying to get dressed, telling me to Jill myself and nobody would ever love me, and punched the door next to my face as I was trying to open it to leave. Then he called the cops and filed a report saying I hit him. I guess he’s done that several times after I left.
Anyway… sheesh. I’m scatterbrained. So after he’d taken back his promise to clear my name, I told him I would have to do it myself. I started recording his rages after I found out he was telling people I abused him. I also recorded the conversations of him admitting he was lying about me. Also many of the conversations about the women were via text. Including the ones about the teenager, his friend/coworker’s wife, a married woman that worked for him who had a mental breakdown from the affair, etc, etc, etc.
I said that he had the opportunity to clear my name however he wanted to without exposing himself. That I didn’t want to harm his life, just fix mine. He could create a whole new narrative of lies for all I cared as long as it cleared me from the vile things he made up about me.
He broke his hand in the wall next to my head by punching it so hard. I left. He called the police and filed a report that I broke in and hit him. And then hired a lawyer and filed a PO on the basis of domestic violence, stalking, and blackmail. All the while trying to bait me into coming over saying he loved me and wanted to fix it so he could have me arrested.
I didn’t even hire a lawyer because it seemed so absurd and I had so much proof he was lying. If recorded it. I had screenshots of him denying it and telling me to come see him and he wanted to marry me. Also because I was poor. He has gotten me fired from my job a couple weeks prior.
His lawyer was good. She shot down my evidence in the heating and used the police reports as proof… which seems like a weird thing to do because they were his testimony. But the judge said she almost never denies a PO because at the very least, those people should stay away from each other. It was granted based on stalking because I’d made a Google drive file of some recordings and screenshots and sent them to several family members and friends begging them to help me. They ignored me. He told them I was insane and not to open it.
My child’s father used that to take her away again.
I’ve been fighting tooth and nail but I’m drowning. Nobody cares. I’m so worn down and have panic attacks almost every day.
Unsurprisingly, he came back recently. So sorry and full of remorse and shame. She’s it all so much clearer now and can’t live with himself for what he did. Can’t live without me. Tugs my heartstrings talking about reading on the porch of our beautiful family home and reminiscing about the good loving times.
Means promises. Same lies. The thing is, I do believe he means it. I think he means it every time. It’s just that the shame and fear of actually following through and publicly facing what he did makes him retreat and go back to the delusional narrative that I abused him and he didn’t do any of the things he did.
I believe he really means it but I no longer believe he’s capable or will mean it in the times he should. He will not change. He wants to be a good man. Something is broken in him. He stopped drinking bourbon but still drinks beer every night. He abuses steroids and vyvanse and they make him irritable and angry and unpredictable. He has so much self loathing and shame. He hates himself. He’s built like a Greek god, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, but he has body dysmorphia and starves himself and binges and runs several miles every single day and also goes to the gym for two hours. He has to smoke those super strong joints dipped in something and take half a bottle of zzzquil to sleep at night. On top of the 10+ beers, steroids, and vyvanse. He never remembers anything and I think he really thinks I’m making a lot of it up but refuses to listen to the recordings.
This time, even though I didn’t believe him, I was so broken and felt so helpless that I let him come back hoping he would at least drop the PO and help me get my daughter home.
He finally dropped the PO after weeks of being sketchy about it. I think he wanted to use it as leverage to protect himself in case I exposed him. I’d go to jail.
But once again, I told him either he needs to clear my name or I would and he’s latched on tot he same old victim narrative that I’m trying to get revenge and destroy him for the past. Has blocked me again. I have a feeling he’s out filing police reports and trying to get another PO. But it won’t work this time because I refused to be physically near him and haven’t told anyone anything yet.
I have to defend myself from his lies to get my daughter back. He’s not going to come clean. But after seeing how rotten the court system is, I am terrified he’s going to either find a way to put me in prison with his lies or kill me if he feels trapped. I really believe if he felt it was hopeless and he was exposed, he would him me and himself.
This was so long. I’m sorry. I’m wordy. It’s a lot. But if anyone read this and can give me some advice, I would be so thankful. I can’t see straight and have no idea what I’m doing. I haven’t left my house in days because I panic and get dizzy trying to go outside. I need help. And I need to never date ever again if I manage to climb out of this mess. I’m not good at it.
submitted by TraumaShmauma to survivinginfidelity [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 21:45 HareWarriorInTheDark Trip Report - 12 days in Tokyo, Disneysea, Hakone, Kyoto, Nara, Osaka. Early 30s couple, late risers!

This sub helped me out a lot so thought I'd share my experience in Japan. Hope I can bring a bit of a different perspective because unlike most of the people that seem to post here, we are definitively not early risers and rarely left the hotel before 1pm every day. Still had a great time and crowds were only an issue in a few places.
We're an early 30s Asian-American couple traveling from Germany, so we're coming at this from a bit of an in-between of Western and Eastern perspective. I have been to Japan when I was 15 with family, but remember basically nothing. It was my wife's first time. We had an absolutely wonderful time and both thought it was the best vacation we've had in years.
The trip was pretty last minute (for my standards at least). I started planning the trip from scratch (no flights, hotels or anything booked) in early April and our trip was May 18-30. We spent 5 days in Tokyo including DisneySea, 2 nights in Hakone, 3 nights in Kyoto including day trip to Nara, and 1 night in Osaka. We flew in to Tokyo Narita and flew out of Osaka Itami. We decided to fly from Osaka to Tokyo instead of bullet train back to Tokyo so we didn't have to buy JR rail pass and worry about luggage.
Tokyo
DisneySea
Hakone
Kyoto
Nara
Osaka
Random Tips
Transportation
Food
Hotels
Language
Luggage Forwarding * I thought it was kind of expensive, but it does make things easier.- ○ Tokyo -> Hakone: 2310 yen- ○ Hakone to Kyoto: 2630 yen- ○ Kyoto -> Osaka: 1940 yen. * I feel like for that price you could take a taxi to and from your hotels to the train station and it wouldn't be much more work. There was plenty of space on the Shinkansen to put smaller checked luggage overhead. Then you don't have to prepack things the day before. * For the first leg Tokyo -> Hakone, we shipped two checked luggage which was about ~32 euros. After that we only shipped one, not two. * The middle ground we found was to designate one suitcase as souvenirs and dirty laundry and forwarded it every time. We would then travel with two carry-ons and one checked luggage. YMMV depending on your number of luggage and ease of carrying them.
submitted by HareWarriorInTheDark to JapanTravel [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 21:29 JamFranz I bought a totally safe and perfectly Normal abandoned lighthouse from the government and I’m definitely not going to die in this Place.

I’m sure you’ve been hearing about how the US government is selling off parcels of land for incredibly cheap – you could get your very own lighthouse or abandoned department of wildlife building for a few thousand dollars.
They say it’s so these buildings and sites can be maintained by private citizens rather than continue to spiral into disrepair.
Recent experience has led me to the conclusion that the real reason is far more sinister.
I knew it was going to need some work when I saw the pictures – peeling paint, doors taken off their hinges, the thin spiral staircase leading to the top was missing a step. But with a starting bid of $1,000? On the off chance that it worked out, it was worth it.
I threw out a dollar over the minimum bid late at night and then went to bed with zero expectations – none-too-fondly recalling the old eBay days where someone would jump in and outbid you at the last minute, so I was genuinely shocked to wake up to an email that I’d actually won.
It didn’t take long for me to realize I was in way over my head. The excitement I’d felt over owning a place of my own dissolved the moment I saw the tall grey structure looming above me on the horizon. The picture on the website had shown the quintessential red and white striped lighthouse with turquoise waters and the deep blue sky as a backdrop, this building was a stark grey pitted stone tower, sitting atop a windowless cement base. I checked the paperwork, this was the correct address – I tried the code on the lockbox, it worked. I emailed the contact information from the website, but I wasn’t sure what else to do while I was waiting, other than check out the inside. As I walked the narrow and winding path to the door, I couldn’t help but notice how the beach grass and flowers that dotted the rest of the landscape stopped abruptly at the beginning of the pathway; seabirds too, stayed far away.
Walking in, I was overwhelmed by the amount of work I could tell that the place was going to need – it was even worse than the pictures had indicated. Paint had long peeled off, revealing large patches of discoloration on the walls and ceiling. Doors from the small rooms had been taken off their hinges and used to board up the entrance to the cement cylinder that served as the base.
There was a sort of heaviness I felt the moment I stepped over the threshold. At the time, I chalked it up to buyers' remorse from seeing the level of disrepair it had fallen into.
I've since come to believe that when a place is exposed to centuries of death, loneliness, and madness – it becomes as much part of it as the floors, or walls, or roof.
The company replied, they seemed as confused as I was about the pictures and apologized for the mix up – it seemed like an innocent mistake.
It probably should’ve deterred me, but I was still caught up in the high of owning my own land – picturing moving out of my apartment, not having a rent or mortgage.
Well, I was right in a way, I certainly won’t need to worry about rent again. Or a mortgage. Or anything else outside of this place, for that matter.
I’d reached out to several contractors, trying to line up repairs. Floors, walls, doors, stairs – you name it, there was something wrong with it.
Most had straight up turned me down when they heard where the job would be – some politely but nervously declined, others just hung up on me. It took me weeks to finally find someone, from two towns over, that was willing to come out and even take a look.
He was a friendly guy that introduced himself as Joey and offhandedly mentioned he was surprised to see the place with another new owner so soon. Before I could ask any follow up questions to that, he was off measuring, and jotting down notes, and then disappeared up the stairs.
As the sun began to set, I realized it had been hours since I’d last seen him. I saw his pickup, still sitting outside, and called around for him. I walked up to the very top, careful to avoid the missing step – taking in the briny air while searching the perimeter. I checked each of the small rooms with their peeling paint and stained floors, I went to the bottom – and then reluctantly to the only place I hadn’t looked yet – the cement cylinder at the base. I’d stuck my head down there the very first day after removing the barricades and immediately decided it was a place I’d prefer to never visit again. It was made up of a series of narrow and dark concrete tunnels, stained with rust and filled with a dank mildewy smell. Without windows or power, it was pitch black there even during the brightest of days.
I opened the door and called out for him, but my own voice echoing back at me was the only response. Reluctantly, I descended, shining my flashlight around the interior of the tunnels and trying to convince myself that I definitely could find my way back and probably wouldn’t be trapped down there forever.
At the end of one of the passageways, I saw something that surprised me – a set of ancient looking stairs that led downwards. I was confused, because the cylinder was at the very bottom, anything below it would’ve been solid rock, and eventually the ocean. I found my palms sweating so profusely at the thought of going down those stone steps that I nearly dropped my flashlight.
I called his name weakly but heard nothing. It was unnervingly quiet – a sort of thick silence that was heavy on the air. I hesitated – part of me just longed to be in the lighted interior of my car, doors locked, on the way back to my crappy apartment. It would’ve been easy enough to get lost down there, and the thought of otherwise abandoning someone else to the darkness encouraged me to fight through my own fears and continue onward.
I took a deep breath and cautiously took the first step, the tunnels just a dark blur behind me. The stairs formed a spiral downwards and as I descended, it felt as if the pitted walls began to close in around me as I continued down what seemed like an endless amount of stone steps. I knew I had to have been impossibly far down, at least ten stories below the ground level. I still saw no sign of Joey – my voice had long since stopped echoing, as the space around me had narrowed.
Every so often I’d come across graffiti, drawings, tally marks scribbled or scratched into the walls. At the top of the stairs, someone had started in the middle of a long and rambling letter to a loved one that wrapped along the ever-narrowing walls in cramped handwriting. The further I continued downwards, the content devolved into nonsense – words were written on top of each other and strung together to form meaningless sentences, and then eventually stopped altogether. Different handwriting had picked up where it left off and had simply said ‘they are waiting’. Others seemed to have underlined and circled the phrase in agreement as they too walked by. After I passed an ‘I’m not ready yet’ that looked to have been written in blood, I decided that I was done reading graffiti and that I’d focus strictly on the stairs.
The darkness, the narrowing walls – the slick steps – I paused at one point and wondered why I was still going, but besides the guilt if I gave up, I felt compelled to, eager almost.
Just as the space became so tight that the stone painfully scraped against my shoulders, the stairs sharply stopped at a small platform that opened into a tiny room – the first I’d seen since I’d been down here. The walls were covered with apologies, good-byes, confessions, love letters – some written, some carved into the stone. Of those that were still legible, some were written in anguish, others with fear, some were just pure madness, but not one of them expressed hope.
Someone had written EXIT HERE in large, disjointed letters, with a crudely drawn arrow pointing downwards to a hatch on the floor.
I hesitated for a moment – knowing there was nothing below us but rock and ocean – and I should’ve hit those hours ago, but decided I’d come all this way, I might as well keep going.
It led to even more stairs, but this time the steps were that of a tight iron spiral staircase, one step missing. I felt a sudden stale breeze as I descended. There were windows around me that opened into the pitch-black night – it was so dark outside that I hadn't even realized they were windows at all at first.
I froze – confused – I wasn’t sure how I managed to get myself so utterly turned around – I knew I’d been walking downwards the entire way. I was certain of it. Yes, I was tired, it was dark, but I knew up from down.
I heard a sound from below – a whirring, and thought I’d finally found Joey – or somehow, some sort of exit. Something. Anything but more stairs. Relieved, I decided to continue downwards – upwards – the direction I’d been going.
At the bottom, was a ladder leading to another hatch on the floor. I climbed down, opened it, and – to my utter confusion – found myself standing at the top of the lighthouse.
I grasped for the railing to orient and brace myself against the strong, stinging wind. I couldn’t see the moon, stars – any light reflecting on the water around me. It was somehow darker outside than it had been in the tunnels and unlight stairwell – darker than I had previously thought possible.
The choppy black waters of the sea were indistinguishable from the sky, the land, even with the steady flash of the strangely tinted automated light – the whirring I’d heard – I could see very little. At first, I felt a wave of relief at seeing Joey’s car was gone – he’d made it out – but it was short lived when I realized that mine was gone too. The shore, the beach houses in the distance – everything was gone. The wind had picked up – instead of the light and briny sea air it was heavy in my lungs and had a smell – earthiness mixed with something else that I couldn’t place at the time.
Although I couldn’t see much of anything beyond the railing when the light above flashed, I could just make out pale, nearly translucent forms being tossed along in the black water far in the distance.
When I finally managed to look away from the hypnotizing motion of whatever was floating in the waves, I realized the slick floor was littered with items – Joey’s shoes, notepad, and toolbelt. A woman’s purse, leather peeling from the constant barrage of the black water – piles and piles of neatly folded clothes.
I panicked, opened the hatch I’d come down – up?– through.
I was relieved to see steps leading down. I rushed back down the metal stairs, slipping from the dark water that had splashed against my shoes, before making it back to the platform.
I ran as fast as my tired legs would allow, past the hundreds of additional ‘They are waiting’ messages I had missed the first time. It wasn’t until I reached the top of the stone steps that I paused for the first time, and I took deep gulping breaths in relief – until I saw it.
EXIT HERE, the arrow pointing upwards.
I told myself I must have missed that on the way down. I laughed, even, chiding myself for my forgetfulness as I reached for the opening to the hatch, eager to return to the dank interior of the cement cylinder. I never would’ve thought I’d be happy to see that pitch black series of tunnels again.
My laughter turned to misery.
I think I sobbed that first time, when the fetid breeze hit my face – bringing with it that smell of old things. Welcoming things. My phone said it was 6:45 AM, but it never got any lighter outside. The pale things in the sea below moved along with the waves, their tangled limbs just a bit clearer in the closer proximity.
I opened the hatch and climbed back down, but slowly that time, wobbly with exhaustion. When I descended and reached the platform and little room again, EXIT HERE pointing downwards at the hatch – I didn’t even bother opening it for the longest time. Eventually, I knew I needed to. Just in case. I needed to see.
I started to lose track of how many times I made that fruitless journey that always ended the same way – with me stepping outside into the endless night. I didn’t start my own tally marks right away, but it’s been forty trips since I started counting.
By the 7th recorded time I had stepped out into the darkness, I was laughing. I needed to see the water. I had to breathe in that air – it was an urge that I could not fight. The pale forms in the dark waters moved with the current – closer, further away, closer, further. Closer. Closer. Closer still.
I've been trying to conserve my phone battery ever since I've found I have a faint signal in the exact middle of the stairs. I've been so tempted to call for help – an overwhelming urge that is still hard to fight, even though I know I'd be dooming them as well.
According to the date, I've been stuck here for a week with no food or water. At one point I tripped and smashed my head on the stone steps – based on the sound and the blood, an injury that should have been fatal. Even death refuses to grant me reprieve.
I’ve memorized every ‘They are waiting’ written along the walls, every word of each confession.
I’ve even written a few messages of my own.
One is on the wall with the others, short, streaky, and written in the only medium I could find, for whomever is unfortunate to follow in my footsteps – and this post. A warning to others that may also be tempted to accept a deal that seems too good to be true.
Although much of it is illegible, I do think the graffiti was right about two things.
That out into the stale air, into the embrace of the dark sea – that is truly the exit, the only way out.
And, judging by the slap of wet footsteps on the hatch above my head, they are waiting for me.
submitted by JamFranz to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 21:20 smellthing be vigilant for fraudulent activity

yesterday got a call from (713) 400-6898 notifying me of an attempted purchase of 375$ from target that was declined. i confirmed this wasn’t me and they subsequently “locked” my card and expedited a new one. i had also been emailed that my card was added to someone’s mobile wallet. woke up today to multiple calls from their fraud department of more purchases made in the same area, nearly draining my entire checking. i, again, confirm this wasn’t me, since apparently my card had not been locked. i’m not sure what happened here because i was told otherwise the day before. had to file a claim for multiple charges for up to 300$ with some still pending.
be very vigilant y’all. change your pins and lock your card immediately if you see anything suspicious. i wish i had double checked myself when they told me they locked it.
submitted by smellthing to betterment [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 21:15 Born-Beach Something twisted crawled out from the edge of the universe. We are not alone.

PART 1

The moment Gray touches my head, static ripples across my skull. I froth at the mouth. Choke. For a little while, I think I’m probably dying, but then I lose all sense of awareness. I’m falling. I’m breaching the atmosphere of my mind and crashing into a dimension outside of myself, outside of everything.
Images flash. They’re like a film reel, playing across my consciousness from every direction. They’re everywhere. Inescapable. It’s as if I’m inhabiting them, as though they were moments in time and everything from sight, sound and smell are collapsing in on one another like a dying star.
Gray calls this ‘disorienting.’
But then, just when I tell myself I want out— that I can’t take it anymore because my disembodied ghost is about to explode… It slows. The whole process hits the brakes. The visual hurricane calms from a category 5 to a 3, and then settles into a 1.
Whew-ie!
Moments float to the surface. Others sink out of sight.
Like a sponge, my mind starts absorbing information– everything from quantum physics to the lyrical discography of Shania Twain. Knowledge becomes trivial. As soon as I want to know something, I reach out and take it.
It’s exhilarating.
But then, something catches my attention. It’s a series of shimmering lights in my lake of thought, gleaming jewels that seem to be drawing me toward them. Somehow, I know that these are why I’ve come here. These are what Gray meant for me to find, the so-called truth that would justify all of the abductions, all of the murders.
So I reach out.
Information bombards me. It carpet-bombs my mind, and in the overwhelming chaos of it all, the entire history of the cosmos is laid bare before me.
I see it. I see everything.
Gray and Teal? Not monsters. An alien species called the Vytar. Their technology eclipses humanity’s, and they’ve existed for billions of years. They’ve done remarkable things in that time, everything from mastering hyperlight travel to creating edible spray cheese. They’ve even charted the entirety of the cosmos.
What I’m saying is they've been busy.
But my revelations don’t stop there. No, they keep coming.
Tragedy.
I see tragedy.
I see it in the Vytar’s search for answers. In their quest to uncover every nook and cranny of the universe, they come across two devastating discoveries. Firstly, they learn that they are alone in the cosmos. Secondly, they discover their species is going extinct.
How?
It happens like this.
Near the edge of space, a Vytar ship discovers life. But it isn’t intelligent. Far from it. This life is microbial, viral, and it infects the explorers. They toss themselves into quarantine. They’re observed, and a shocking discovery is made– this virus?
Not so bad.
In fact, maybe it’s just what they've been looking for.
Soon, Vytarians across the cosmos are lining up to be infected with the virus. Within a century, their entire species are carriers. It jumps between them like the common cold, but they don’t mind. Not at all. Why? Easy. This virus comes with a satisfaction guarantee: biological immortality.
Now there’s a deal.
The trouble is, these Vytar don’t work like humans do. They don’t have sex and make babies and then sleep and then wake up and do it again. No, these Vytar lay eggs. And only certain members of their species lay eggs. And what’s more? They only lay eggs during a specific molting period at the end of their life cycles.
See what I’m getting at?
Biological immortality or laying eggs. Pick one. You can’t have both if you’re the Vytar. But by the time they figure this out, this virus has infected every last colony of their civilization. Unable to reproduce, their population enters freefall. It develops what’s known as an existential crisis, and if there’s one thing civil society hates, it’s dealing with an existential crisis.
Tempers flare.
Emotions run hot.
This brings us to the crux of the Vytarian dilemma. War.
And lots of it.
Worlds erupt into conflict. Galaxies become battlefields, and whole solar systems are laid to ash. If you thought nuclear weapons were bad, then consider what happens when a moon is kicked out of orbit into the surface of a planet. The bloodshed is immeasurable. As the fighting escalates, the stars themselves become weapons. The Vytar discover that if you can just push one toward instability…. Well, boom.
There goes the neighborhood.
These Vytar? Nothing if not creative.
But it’s just this penchant for outside the box problem solving that massacres their species into the low billions. Over a single millenia, the Vytar are swept from an inter-galactic species, to one inhabiting a single world on the edge of space.
Having met their downfall at the hands of their technology, the surviving Vytar turn toward spiritualism. Cults form. Different sects have different beliefs, but one eventually consumes the rest: The Way of the Chosen. The Way promises an end to Vytarian pain.
No more existential crisis.
No more killing.
All the Vytar need to do is open their hearts and minds to a simple three step program:
  1. Show a little pride. We’re the only intelligent life in the universe, so start acting like it!
  2. Persevere. Immortality is our final test. Keep your chin up!
  3. Ascend. Just make it to the heat death of the universe, and you’ll be granted salvation!
Believe it or not, it’s a big hit.
The Vytarians flock to it in droves because it offers what they need– a sense of purpose, and a break from the emotional turmoil that’s consumed them for decades. In a matter of years, The Way becomes the dominant socio-political force across the Vytarian homeworld, bringing the last of the warring factions together.
It’s a beautiful thing.
But what’s the phrase?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Yeah, that’s it.
Not everybody is a fan of how The Chosen conduct business. But The Chosen make it easy for them– all who disavow their belief system are exiled. It’s for the good of the Vytarians, they say. And maybe they’re right. After all, these are a species of aliens that have seen just what disagreements can lead to.
Fire. Fury. Mass graves and floating corpses in the vacuum of space.
No thank you.
That’s a risk they won’t take.
One of these exiled Vytarians is a scientist. He has no name in the shared memory save for ‘The Heretic,’ and he is both the architect of humanity and the genesis of our greatest threat. In his assessment, the Vytarian extinction is an inevitability. He perceives their current peace as fragile, held up by a corrupt theocracy whose foundations could crumble any moment. Once they do, boom. Back to war. Back to genocide.
It won’t be pretty.
Worse still, when the last of the Vytar perish, so too will the last form of complex intelligence. Their species won’t just die– it’ll be forgotten. The universe will become a barren void, an unconscious minefield of drifting cadavers.
That will be their legacy.
But the Heretic, he’s a mover-and-a-shaker. He’s the sort of individual who likes to solve problems, not create them, and so when he thinks of the Vytarian extinction, when he acknowledges it as a slow-motion inevitability, he isn’t giving up. No, he has a plan. It’s not a great plan, mind you. It’s not even a plan with a high-likelihood of success, and nor, for that matter, is it a plan that’s strictly legal.
But it is a plan.
It goes like this: if the Vytarians are dying out, then something must replace them. There must be intelligent life to take their place, to give warmth to this cold cosmos, and remember their legacy. Since no other intelligent life exists in all the universe, that leaves him a single option.
He’ll just have to make some.
And this Heretic? This mover-and-shaker?
Well, he succeeds.
And really, that’s where this nightmare begins.
_________________________________________________________________________
The helicopter touches down in a clearing that shouldn’t exist.
I step out to find a forest that’s broken, smoldering, one that’s cleaved in two with a cloud of cinders in its wake. This isn’t how I remember this place. Not at all. I remember a wooden bridge over a lazy creek, and tall trees that–
“Mitchell!”
Somebody’s calling my name. Running toward me.
My boss.
Lisa’s got her phone pressed to one ear and her other hand is frantically waving at me. All around us are government personnel, fellow men-in-black types looking equal parts panicked and terrified. Nice to know I’m not alone.
“Mitchell,” Lisa says, breathless. “Finally! Follow me.”
We take a stroll down the newest gully in America. Pieces of splintered metal scatter the ground, and here and there I see techs in hazmat suits brushing dust from the debris. Above us, the moon is being shrouded by a gigantic tarp. They’re extending it across the entire crash-site, likely hoping they can get it up before foreign satellites move into position and stick their noses into our business.
“Looks like a warzone out here,” I say, loosening my tie. Is it hot out, or is my anxiety just turning my body into a furnace? Tough to say.
Either way, Lisa’s not paying attention.
“Understood, sir. I’ll keep you posted with any and all updates as soon as we have them.” She hangs up her phone and turns to me. “Sorry, did you say something, Mitchell? Tonight’s been a nightmare.”
I can imagine.
As we make our way toward the UAP, Lisa tells me the government’s been hounding her for details.
What exactly did we shoot down?
Are we going to war?
She says we’ve probably got three hours until the media wakes up, and then we’ll need to start beating the journalists back with sticks. “This is a fucking disaster,” she tells me, and she reaches into her jacket and grabs a flask. “Whisky?”
I shake my head. “Haven’t touched the stuff for years.”
“Suit yourself.”
Bottom’s up.
She wipes her mouth and shoves the flask back into her jacket, taking the sort of breath you take when you’ve hit your limit. “I should’ve kept on as an accountant,” she says. “I’d still be in bed right now.”
The closer we get to the UAP, the easier it is to see through the haze of smoke. The craft is no longer just a smudge in the distance. Now I can make out its general shape. Its general size. It looks big enough to pass for a stadium, and round enough to sell the illusion.
“A flying saucer,” Lisa says, shaking her head. “You’d think these aliens never heard of a bad cliche.”
We get to the edge of the perimeter and flash our badges. Three soldiers let us through.
“Listen,” Lisa tells me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Before we go inside this thing, I want you to take a few deep breaths, okay? We’ve had a couple incidents already.”
“Incidents?” I ask.
“Sure. One guy pissed his pants. Another was taking photos of this… corpse in a vat, and he throws up all over the inside– of the vat, not the corpse. Whatever. Point is, he completely fucked the lab team trying to get a sample.” She runs a hand through her hair. Chuckles darkly. “Luckily, there are about a dozen other corpses where that came from, but still. The smell was awful.”
Vats. Corpses. My stomach does a front flip and I almost take a page out of the photographer’s playbook. “So this is the real deal,” I mutter, pretending this whole thing doesn’t feel uncomfortably familiar. “Aliens actually exist, huh?”
“Just wait,” Lisa says, stepping into the dark of the ship. “This next part is gonna blow your mind.”
_________________________________________________________________________
The Heretic creates life in his image, using Earth as his petri dish.
His first lifeforms are what you’d call prototypes. Rough drafts. They’re giant reptiles, dinosaurs, and a scattershot of various traits and biology. They’re a means to discover what works and what doesn’t on the path to evolving complex intelligence. He studies them closely. Then he studies them some more.
But what’s the phrase?
Nothing lasts forever.
Yeah, that’s it.
We’ve covered that the Vytarian are an advanced species. We know that they’re no strangers to space, and we’re well aware that their wars wiped out 99% of their population. But what we haven’t covered, is that some toys are still left-over from those wars.
And The Chosen? They possess almost all of them.
One of these is a fleet of surveillance drones, the sort that drift through the cosmos and ping headquarters if they see something suspect. One of these happens to drift by Earth. Can you guess what happens next?
Images of the Heretic’s well, heresy, are transmitted to The Chosen. Minutes later, he gets a collect call from 40 billion light years away.
What is this, the Chosen High Council asks.
Blasphemer, they condemn.
But the Heretic isn’t shocked by this. He knows that according to The Way, the creation of new lifeforms is the exclusive domain of their deity, The Distant One. He knows that what he’s done is criminal. That maybe it’s also considered an affront against all of existence, and that it’s maybe grounds for execution and inviting the wrath of god upon all Vytarians.
Relax, he tells them.
It’s you or us, they say.
I can explain, he tells them.
Don’t bother, they say.
The line goes dead. The Heretic figures he’s got about a handful of weeks before The Chosen arrive to dish out their justice, so he flees to a neighboring star system. While there, he realizes The Chosen were never aiming for him– only his life’s work. A meteor is propelled into the surface of the earth, and the moment it impacts the planet becomes fire. Six trillion lifeforms scream in momentary agony before turning to ash.
The Heretic weeps.
_________________________________________________________________________
Years pass.
Then centuries.
These turn to millenia, and millenia become eons, and the Heretic decides to risk returning to earth. He wants to find closure for the loss of his creation. He wants to pay his respects. But when he arrives, his sorrow becomes hope. Life, it seems, has survived.
More than that, it has thrived.
Yet this life isn’t the same that he set out to create. No, this life is the biological progeny of tiny balls of fur he created to feed his prototypes. They’re what you and I might call mammals. Except some of these mammals are impressive– they have large brains, opposable thumbs, and what’s more, they look a bit like you and I.
They’re humans. Among the first.
The Heretic is fascinated by these humans. He recognizes they possess complex intelligence, sentience, and a strong sense of adaptability. He observes them as they form social groups, watches as they create the ghosts of language.
Yes, he thinks. This is it. These lifeforms will inherit the universe, and in doing so, immortalize the Vytar in their memories.
But a problem remains. The Chosen.
If they discover the earth is teeming with life, then they’ll circle back and finish the job. This time, they won’t pull punches. The planet will become an asteroid field, and all of its life will be red mist upon the floating rocks.
But what to do?
How to keep humanity alive, to shield it from the overwhelming might of the Vytarian military? It seemed impossible. Equations run through the Heretic’s mind, scenarios infest his thoughts and in not a single one can he fathom succeeding. He has but one spacecraft. No weapons to speak of.
And it occurs to him.
Humans are hardy creatures– adaptable. Given time, they will evolve to reach parity with the Vytarians. Then, their superior numbers could compensate for any gaps in technology. But such a plan hinges upon them getting up to speed, ascending to an evolutionary singularity in which their gains become exponential. He cannot afford to wait millions of years when The Chosen could discover him any day.
No, he’ll need to interfere. Spike the gene pool. Rig the results. He’ll need to give humanity more than a push, he’ll need to throw it down the damn stairs if they have any hope of surviving.
But there’s a way.
Yes, there’s always a way.
He devises a solution called Project Runaway.
It starts by creating a new lifeform. It’s aesthetically identical to a human male, but it’s born from the genetic harvest of thousands of his peers. Each strand of his DNA will be carefully selected for, prioritizing the potential for runaway evolution. Then, these strands will be spliced with Vytarian genes. Not much, but enough to access fragments of the shared memory– the Collective Recall. This will allow the man to gain intuitive understanding of billions of years worth of wisdom. It’ll permit him to think faster. Adapt more quickly.
Then, as this man spreads his genes through the population, his progeny will inherit his DNA. They’ll evolve quicker. Think faster. This is how it works.
This is how humanity inherits the universe.
_________________________________________________________________________
“Watch your step,” Lisa says, stepping into the UAP.
I follow her inside. For a moment, I’m blinded by the glare of industrial work-lamps. Then my senses are assaulted by a cacophony of sound and movement. We’ve entered a hive of activity. Crowds of people buzz around us, some in biohazard suits, others in military camo.
Where we are is a large circular chamber, one surrounded by dark corridors leading to other locations of the ship. Right now, teams are taping those entrances up with plastic wrap. Other teams are setting up perimeters, hanging pieces of paper above archways labeled A through Z.
“You alright, Mitchell?”
“What?”
“Are you alright?” Lisa says, and she’s got her arms folded. She’s looking at me like she thinks I’m about to become her newest headache, maybe piss myself all over the deck.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “It’s just a lot to take in, you know? Never been in an alien spaceship before.”
“Sure,” she says, lifting an eyebrow. “Join the club. We’re heading down corridor D to find somebody named Major Luca– I was talking to her a few seconds before you showed up. She said she’s got something to show me. Something big.”
“Spare me the suspense, Lis. What are we after?”
“From the sounds of it? Bodies.”
“Bodies?” I say. “Like those corpses you mentioned, the ones in vats?”
“Not quite. According to Luca, these bodies aren’t exactly… Well, they’re not human. Probably.” She punches my arm, gives me a cheeky smirk. “Relax, Mitchell. The Major confirmed they’re already dead– nothing to be scared of. Let’s go.”
She leads us down the corridor labeled D, and every step I take is worse than the last.
My heart is flying. It’s pounding a million beats a minute. I put on my best poker face, nodding along as Lisa briefs me on the UAP, but internally I’m having a breakdown. It’s taking everything I have not to hyperventilate. The further we get into the spacecraft, the more I’m wondering how much of my dreams were dreams.
The more I wonder if all I am is just some clone with a badge.
“What did the bodies look like?” I ask, clearing my throat. “Did these aliens have scales, and tails…and sort of look like lizards?”
Lisa laughs. “No idea. Luca didn’t give me much of a description, but I’d bet money they were little green men. It’d go with the whole flying saucer motif, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” I swallow. “Suppose it would.”
She chatters on. This, that, something else. Apparently they’ve got an ironclad alibi to deal with the journalists, something banal enough to keep them far away from the crash site. But I’m too deep in my own thoughts to register what is. I’m too deep remembering all the awful aspects of the dream that wasn’t supposed to be real. I’m remembering him.
The Runaway.
And the more I remember, the more I wish I could forget.
____________________________________________________
The first time the Runway opens his eyes, he’s twenty years old.
He’s laying naked in the jungle, the sun scorching his skin with ultraviolet rays. He sits up. He has no instructions. No guidance. This world is entirely new to him, utterly foreign and in his stomach flutters the first ghosts of adrenaline.
From the outer ring of Saturn, the Heretic watches.
The Runaway rises to his feet. He takes his first shaking, trembling step and stumbles into the grass. He groans. Pain. A new sensation. He gets back up, tries again. It’s harder than it looks, walking when you’ve never done it before, but eventually he gets the picture. For him, it gets easier by the second.
After only an hour, he’s running through the ferns. Climbing trees. And his stomach is screaming.
Food.
He must find food.
But what to eat?
By his third hour alive, the Runaway has learned to forage. By his sixth, he’s consumed enough poisonous berries to floor an elephant, and is writhing on the ground. The poison burns his stomach. It makes his tongue swell and his skin glisten with sweat, but as the seconds become minutes, the agony fades to pain fades to healing.
His body is adapting. His digestive systems are hardening themselves against the poison, and soon, the Runaway rises back to his feet.
Evolution has begun.
As the sun sets, the Runaway collects wild game from crude traps. He has begun subconsciously tapping into the Collective Recall, intuitively teaching himself to skin animals, to make fires, to cook flesh for taste and health.
He is learning.
As the week comes to a close, the Runaway is surrounded. A pack of wolves has been hounding him for days, and now they’ve come to deal with this trespasser upon their territory. They circle him. Their teeth gnash, saliva leaking from their jaws. In their throats is a growl, a threat of death, but the Runaway has learned to handle his fear. Now, it serves him.
His muscles tense. His hands flex in and out of fists, and his eyes follow the beasts as they pad the ground. The large one, he thinks. The large wolf will engage, and the rest will follow. But he doesn’t give it time– he dashes forward, faster than even the wolves can react, and he brings his fist down upon the skull of the largest. The animal is stunned. Dazed. He follows up by grabbing its jaws, and pulling with all of his might.
The other wolves flee. They yelp and they scream as their champion falls to the dirt, dead.
The Runaway dresses himself in its hide.
At the end of the month, the Runaway has evolved to the point he barely needs to eat. Twenty calories a day serve him all that he needs. A handful of berries, and he can operate at peak mental and physical capability. By the close of his second month, he no longer needs to breathe. He fishes hundreds of meters below the surface, fighting off sharks for choice morsels swimming in the deep.
On the anniversary of his birth, the Heretic observes that the Runaway no longer ages. His DNA suffers no damage each time it splits. He has become biologically immortal.
After five years, he transcends humanity. The Runaway is now capable of perceiving individual atoms, and by the sixth year of his life, he can manipulate them. Matter becomes his plaything. The laws of physics become little more than suggestions, and so if he wants to fly, then he does. If he wants to reach into the minds of living creatures, he does that too.
The Runaway has become the most powerful lifeform to ever live. But the Heretic is not concerned.
No, he sees what his creation is. He sees that this anomaly, this Runaway is kind. Empathetic. With each passing year his interest in violence wanes. Before long, the Runaway cuts himself off from humanity altogether, unable to stomach their wonton savagery and thirst for blood. Some have taken to worshiping him. Others, reviling.
To him, they are all the same. Misguided, fearful, and ruled by instincts he has learned to see beyond. These humans may as well be a separate species.
To find respite from this chaos, he meditates. Sometimes he does this at the bottom of the sea. Other times he does this atop high, wind-swept peaks. Anywhere his senses are sufficiently assailed to block out the madness of the world around him.
And it’s while meditating on one of these peaks that the Runaway begins looking to the stars. He wonders if there may be more out there.
Is it possible, he thinks aloud, that there are others like me?
Could I find a companion of my own?
And it’s while he’s pondering these thoughts, while he’s gazing into the deepness of space, that he finds something looking back at him. A lizard. Housed within a strange capsule, floating in the outer rings of a celestial body we know as Saturn.
It is the first time he and his maker lock eyes.
Weeks later, the Runaway’s breached the atmosphere of Earth. A month after that, he’s traversed the solar system and made it to the Heretic’s ship. He’s tapping on the hull. The Heretic welcomes him inside.
“Hello,” the Heretic says, in the ancient tongue of man.
The Runaway peers at him. “Hello…” he says slowly, but it is not in the ancient tongue of man. It is in the low bass of Vytarian. “Your language is… strange… but I believe I can master it. Who are you? Why have you been watching… me?”
The Heretic doesn’t see the point of mincing words. He comes clean about everything– after all, the Runaway is capable of looking into his thoughts. What’s the use of playing coy? He starts with the extinction of the Vytarian people, and ends with humanity’s role as inheritors of the universe, and the Runaway’s role in leading them there.
“Have you any questions?” the Heretic asks.
“Many,” the Runaway tells him. “Above all, why do you fear me?”
“I don’t,” the Heretic says.
“You do. I see it reflected in your thoughts.”
“The fear you see reflected in my thoughts,” the Heretic begins, speaking with careful deliberation, “... it does not belong to me. You are viewing fragments of the Collective Recall, a shared knowledge passed down by my people. You are viewing the beliefs of those of us who remain from the Old War– followers of the Way of the Chosen.”
“These followers,” The Runaway says, his expression twisting with shock and horror. “They think of me as a monster– an abomination!”
“Not exactly,” the Heretic tells him. “Strictly, they do not think of you at all. In order to protect my work, I cut myself off from the Collective sometime ago, so all you’re seeing are faint echoes of their dogma. To them, my work is blasphemy. But yes… I believe that should they learn of you, your vast capabilities would indeed frighten them. They would think you a monster.”
“And to you?” The Runaway asks. “What am I to you?”
The Heretic reaches toward the Runaway, claps his shoulder. He smiles in the human way. “I am a barren lifeform, ravaged by a virus that has stolen the hope of my people. I am unable to achieve my biological imperative. Reproduction is beyond me. You ask me what you are to me? You are my legacy.” He slowly, awkwardly performs the human ritual of embrace, wrapping his arms around the Runaway.
You are my son.
_________________________________________________________________________
I take a breath. It’s brief. Gasping. Gray is standing in front of me, his pupils pulsing, and I’m suddenly aware that his name isn’t Gray it’s Wor. He’s 70 million years old. Not only that, but so is his friend– and his name isn’t Teal, but Kez. They’re both devotees of the Way of the Chosen.
“Did you see?” Wor asks, and he’s no longer using his digital translator. After the thought transference it seems I can understand the Vytarian language, make sense of the various vibrations that previously just seemed like low bass.
“Yes,” I say, leaning forward. “But not everything.” I look up at Wor, and hit him with an accusatory glare. “There’s more to this story, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling me?”
Kez twists his neck to look at us. His pupils are blowing up and shrinking in quick succession– a reaction I now understand to mean I’m pissed. “You have seen enough, human. Prepare for genetic deconstruction and we will be done with this.”
“No!” I exclaim, and I’m surprised to hear my voice rumbling throughout the ship. It’s thunderous. I clear my throat. “No,” I say, and this time my voice is appropriately subdued. Vytarian is apparently a powerful language. “If you want me to jump into a vat and turn into… corpse chili or whatever, then you have to show me it’s worth it.”
The Vytar exchange glances. Wor’s pupils shrink– he’s nervous. Concerned. “To show you more may invite excess unease,” he says. “It was my hope that a brief glance at the history, the origin of everything could provide necessary closure to commence the harvest of your DNA.”
“Look,” I say. “I’ve seen a lot. I know that whatever genetic material you’re grabbing off people is a lot more useful if we’re agreeable. It’s like hunting an animal. Kill it scared, and the meat is tough. It’s a chemical thing– I get that, and I’m telling you that if you show me the rest, I’ll let you do what you need. I’ll play my part.”
“Invalid request,” Kez says. “Such knowledge is beyond your capacity to bear.”
I frown. “It’s him, isn’t it? The Runaway. It’s obvious he’s the source of your fear and this so-called mission to save humanity. Yeah. I might not have all the details, but just looking at your reactions– it’s gotta be. More than that, I can guess you haven’t had much luck dealing with him either.”
Wor and Kez don’t speak a word. Their expressions say everything I need to know.
“The way I figure it,” I continue, getting to my feet and taking a deep breath. “Is that I’m a human too. On some level, I’m like The Runaway, just less… well, terrifying. But maybe there’s something in those visions, something in the Runaway’s actions or his behaviors that only a human could make sense of. Ever think of that? I mean, what if I can help you catch something you’re missing? Isn’t that chance worth taking?”
The Vytar are quiet. They stare at one another for a long while, and their pupils explode in waves of emotion. Kez turns away. He lets out a gruff warble and throws up his arms, cursing Wor and me both.
“What’s his problem?” I ask.
Wor steps forward. He gingerly looks back to his companion, but Kez’s back is turned, hunched over the console in clear disagreement.
“Kez does not wish to harm your mind,” Wor says quietly. “Your story of your sister… this expiring human you call Hope, well, it has moved him. He fears that if I show you the rest of The Runaway’s story it will cause your mind to fracture, shattering your consciousness in such a way that it may not be repaired. There will be no perfect clone. Your sister will find no solace in her dying moments.”
I look at Kez, watch him tap at the console’s controls and I can’t help but feel guilty for judging him so harshly. At the end of the day, he was just looking out for my sister.
But, on the other hand, he also wants to turn me into DNA soup.
“This feels important,” I say to Wor, balling my hands into fists. “If this is really about the fate of humanity, the fate of everything– well, I think Hope would want me to do anything I could to help.” I plaster a weak smile onto my face, trying to hype myself up with fake confidence. “Besides, I can’t imagine it’s that bad, is it?”
Wor places his hands on my temples. Closes his eyes. “You’re right,” he tells me. “You cannot begin to imagine how bad it is.”
MORE
submitted by Born-Beach to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 20:58 Flashfall Sharing some thoughts before the sub goes dark

Since this sub and some 4000+ others are going dark in 2 days in protest of probably this site's stupidest decision ever, I figure this is probably the last time I'll get to share my pointless thoughts on this game here, so may as well. It doesn't really matter anymore if it's full of awful takes and people just downvote and insult me in the comments, it's been a grand time and I'll miss seeing posts and having discussions over this dEaD gAmE.

Construction

Base/Map Design

Vehicles

Infantry

Monetization

submitted by Flashfall to Planetside [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 20:46 Boggerson [FNV] Tale of Two Wastelands crashing on fast travel to Rivet City

To Start off, I have had a few problems with crashing, but none were as consistent as this. I am in Paradise Falls trying to fast travel to Rivet City, and I have disabled each of my graphics mods 10 at a time with no success at stopping the crashing. My mod list and load order are below. I would really appreciate any help. Thanks.
FalloutNV.esm DeadMoney.esm HonestHearts.esm OldWorldBlues.esm LonesomeRoad.esm GunRunnersArsenal.esm Fallout3.esm Anchorage.esm ThePitt.esm BrokenSteel.esm PointLookout.esm Zeta.esm CaravanPack.esm ClassicPack.esm MercenaryPack.esm TribalPack.esm TaleOfTwoWastelands.esm YUPTTW.esm TweaksTTW.esm Tale of Bi Wastelands.esm TTW Reputations.esm TTW New Vegas Speech Checks.esm TTW New Vegas Speech Checks - TTW Reputations Patch.esm Tale of Bi Wastelands + TTW NV Speech Checks Patch.esm MTB.esm Functional Post Game Ending.esm Functional Post Game Ending - TTW Patch.esm TLD_Travelers.esm The Living Desert - TTW Patch.esp SomeguySeries.esm NewVegasBounties.esm Badmothafucka.esm NewVegasKiller.esm A Trail of Crumbs.esm AnotherInteriorMod.esm Regulators.esm Uncut Wasteland.esm Uncut Extra Collection.esm Functional Post Game Ending - Uncut Wasteland And Extra Collection Patch.esm WashingtonsMalevolence.esm RRTV_FO3_CapitalWasteland_Hideouts_TTW.esm SpringvaleGarage.esm Home and Safehouse Tweaks.esm MMTV_Sink_Redux_TTW.esm DynamicWeaponDisplays.esm Cyberware.esm Mojave NPCs.esm Two Wastelands Redesigned.esm Rebuild the Capital.esm Vanilla UI Plus.esp CPI Icons.esp The Mod Configuration Menu.esp AidUI.esp Tutorial Killer.esp Casino Exchange All.esp DelayDLCRedux.esp JIP Companions Command & Control.esp JustAssortedMods.esp TTWZetaRewards.esp S6S Perks.esp TTWTransportalponderEx.esp NewVegasBountiesTTW.esp BMF_TTW.esp NewVegasKiller - TTW.esp MTB Megaton Mover.esp DWD-New Vegas Pack.esp Dynamic Weapon Displays - New Vegas Pack - TTW Patch.esp Dynamic Weapon Displays - New Vegas Pack - MMTV Sink Redux Patch.esp DWD - TTW Pack.esp DWD-Springville Garage.esp Benny Humbles You and Steals Your Stuff.esp BLEED.esp BLEED TTW - TTW Patch.esp BURN - Hardcore Fire Effects.esp CyberJAM.esp Cyberware OWB.esp Cyberware TTW.esp GRA Scavenger Hunt Unbalanced.esp GRA Unique Weapons Relocated - TTW Patch.esp Rebuild the Capital - No Pony Express Boxes.esp sawyerbatty.esp SawyerBatty TTW - TTW Patch.esp SawyerBatty TTW - Uncut Wasteland Patch.esp RRTV_CW_Hideouts_SawyerBatty_Patch.esp RTC-SpringvaleGarageTerminal.esp MMTV_SinkRedux_SawyerBatty_Patch.esp SimpleDiseases.esp Callens_TTWHardcoreFunction_Fix.esp Casino Crowds.esp Casino Crowds - TTW Patch.esp Classic Fallout Weapons Remastered v1.2.esp DWD-Lucky38.esp DWD-MTB.esp DWD-Safehouses.esp DWD-The Sink.esp mil.esp Mojave NPCs - FPGE Patch.esp SpringvaleGarage-Home.esp Animated Ingestibles.esp WeaponRequirementSystem.esp Weaker Super Mutants.esp Weapon Requirements System - TTW Patch.esp Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks TTW.esp B42Inertia.esp PAVE_NV_TTW.esp TTW FaceGen Fix.esp tmzLODadditions.esp LOD Additions - TTW Patch.esp DNWeathers.esp 

+Vanilla UI Plus (New Vegas) +FNVLODGen Output +xEditOutput -Tool Outputs_separator -NMC's Pre - Generated LOD for TTW +Pre Generated - OJO Bueno LOD for TTW -Wasted LOD - Cliffs of DC +LOD additions and improvements - TTW Patch +LOD additions and improvements -LOD_separator +Classic Fallout Weapons Remastered +Another Millenia +All Weapon Sounds Overhaul Modern Edition - AWSOME -Weapons of the New Millenia -Weapon Animations Replacer FOMOD -Weapon Retexture Project - WRP -Weapons_separator +Vault Door Loading Wheel - TTW -NMCs Texture Pack +OJO BUENO Texture Pack +High Resolution Screens +Two Wastelands Redesigned - TTW - Project Beauty and NVR2 +Improved Lighting Shaders +Dusty Distance Redone +Desert Natural Weathers TTW +Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks - TTW +NV Compatibility Skeleton +B42 Weapon Inertia +Bonus Patch +Anniversary Anim Pack - General Bugfix +Anniversary Anim Pack +ISControl Enabler and Ironsights adjuster (now ESPless) +Power Armor Visual Enhancement (PAVE) +FaceGen Tint Fixes for TTW +MetroMapReplacer +Improved LOD Noise Texture +Dynamic Pip-Boy Light - NVSE +Muzzle Flash Light Fix - NVSE +Exterior Emittance Fix - NVSE +Depth of Field Fix - NVSE +MoonlightNVSE +High Resolution Bloom NVSE +Pip-Boy Shading Fix NVSE +High Resolution Water Fog - Water Aliasing Fix +Aqua Performa - Strip Performance Fix +Fog-based Object Culling +High Res Local Maps -Visuals_separator +Weapon Requirements System - TTW Patch +Weapon Requirements System -Three-perk Bounty +Simple Diseases +SawyerBatty TTW - Uncut Wasteland Patch +SawyerBatty TTW - TTW Patch +SawyerBatty TTW +Rebuild the Capital +GRA Unique Weapons Relocated - TTW Patch +GRA Unique Weapons Relocated +Cyberware - TTW Patch +Cyberware +CyberJAM INI File +CyberJAM +Charisma Tweaks (NVSE) +BLEED and BURN Scriptrunner Patch +BURN - Hardcore Fire Effects - TTW Patch +BURN - Hardcore Fire Effects +Casino Crowds - TTW Patch +Casino Crowds +Mojave NPCs - FPGE Patch +Mojave NPCs +BLEED TTW - TTW Patch +BLEED TTW +Nail Gun Semi Auto Rework +(Benny Humbles You) and Steals Your Stuff -Overhauls_separator +TTW Reputations +Dynamic Weapon Displays - New Vegas Pack - MMTV Sink Redux Patch +Vish's Patch Hub WD (TTW) +Dynamic Weapon Displays +MMTV Sink Redux-SawyerBatty Patch +MMTV Sink Redux v +Rebuild the Capital - Springvale Garage Terminal +Springvale Garage - Go Home TTW +Springvale Garage Patch for ySI +TTW - Springvale Garage +TTW - Mobile Truck Base Megaton Mover +Mobile Truck Base SFX Enhancer +Mobile Truck Base TTW +Home and Safehouse Tweaks +RRTV_CW_Hideouts_SawyerBatty_Patch_v +RRTV_CapitalWasteland_Hideouts_TTW +-TTW 3.3- Washington's Malevolence +Functional Post Game Ending - Uncut Wasteland And Extra Collection Patch +Uncut Extra Collection +Uncut Wasteland +TTW - Hardcore Perk Every Level +TTW The Regulators +TTW Another Interior Mod +TTW A Trail of Crumbs +NewVegasKillerLETTW +New Vegas Killer LE +Bad Mothafucka LE TTW +Bad Mothafucka LE +New Vegas Bounties I LE TTW +New Vegas Bounties I LE +The Someguy Series +Vish's Patch Hub (TTW) +The Living Desert - Travelers Patrols Consequences Increased Population and more +Functional Post Game Ending -Content_separator +Animated Ingestibles +Tale of Bi Wastelands TTW Patches for TTW Reputations and TTW New Vegas Speech Checks +TTW New Vegas Speech Checks Patch +TTW New Vegas Speech Checks +TTW Transportalponder Extended +Tale of Bi Wastelands TTW +NVB1Patch +Sweet 6 Shooter Perks - TTW - NV +TTW - Mothership Zeta Rewards +Clean Just Weapons Wheel +JAM - Just Assorted Mods +JIP Companions Command and Control +Tweaks for TTW +Essential Caravan Merchants +TTW - Wasteland Supplements +Misc. Gamesetting Tweaks Presets +Faster Pip-Boy Animation +Delay DLC Redux +Casino Exchange All +Weaker Super Mutants -Gameplay_separator +No More Black Rectangle For Ultrawide and Triple Display Setups -Loot Menu for FNV +ySI - Sorting Ycons +Tutorial Killer +Simplified FO4 HUD +MAPMO - Main and Pause Menus Overhaul +Main Menu Redone - TTW +AnhNVSE +AidUI +Pop-Up Message Icons +Consistent Addon Icons +Consistent Pip-Boy Icons Patch +Consistent Pip-Boy Icons +Clean Vault Boy Paper Doll +Clean Companion Wheel +Cursor Unilaterally Matched - Patch +Clean Vanilla Hud +yUI - User Ynterface +UIO - User Interface Organizer +MCM BugFix 2 +The Mod Configuration Menu -User Interface & HUD_separator +ShowOff xNVSE Plugin +Improved Console (NVSE) +kNVSE Animation Plugin +FNV Mod Limit Fix +ActorCause Save Bloat Fix +Combat Lag Fix (NVSE) +Stewie Tweaks Essentials INI +lStewieAl's Tweaks and Engine Fixes +NVTF - INI Presets +NVTF - New Vegas Tick Fix +JohnnyGuitar NVSE +JIP LN NVSE Plugin +ROOGNVSE Plugin -Essential Mods_separator +Tale of Two Wastelands 
Hope this is enough information.
submitted by Boggerson to FalloutMods [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 20:42 burdabo Anyone?

Dobrý den, hi everyone i need help who have any knowledge on food truck business, because i wanna know the details of having a food truck business here in czech republic, i wanna know what are the permits needed to have a food truck business here i have my trade license (zivno) all i need is a place to conduct my business buy i thinking about to put it in a food truck so i can place my truck in where there are people are my question is what are the permits needed to operate a food truck? and if i want to put the food truck near at the entrance of a mall do i need permit to park the food truck there? is there any regulation on road for transporting a food truck or a trailer? please anyone who have knowledge about this food truck business pleaase help give me ideas and where i can but not that expensive food truck? and also is there any forum in czech republic for foreigner entrepreneur like me im just a small entrepreneur trying to make something for living anyhelp will be much appreciated thanks
submitted by burdabo to Prague [link] [comments]


2023.06.10 20:37 cassidyjoy19 Anxious Chihuahua Potty Training (help plz)

So my parents adopted a 5mo chihuahua puppy about a year ago and named him Ewald, but Waldo for short. When they picked him up, he was super calm and cuddly. When they got home, he turned into a little anxiety monster. He’s bonded to my dad and they adore each other.
I have tried potty training him all year, but he doesn’t let me get close to him at all if I’m standing. If I’m sitting on the ground or couch, he’ll let me get a little closer and play, but runs if I reach a hand out too fast or two hands at all. He won’t jump on the couch, but he will get on my dad’s recliner.
We have puppy pads down all the time, but he stands on the edge and pees off the side. Our carpet has to be replaced because he’s absolutely destroyed it. He’ll sometimes go outside with my dad, but my dad has severe chronic pain and some mobility issues that make it hard for him to train Waldo.
Waldo’s a very smart dog, he learned sit and down very fast when I finally got him to be comfortable enough to come near me to get a treat. We have an Adaptil defuser in our main room and he gets a calming treat once a day (Solliquin Calming Behavioral Health Supplement for Dogs) and they’ve made a difference, it’s just not enough.
Our dog groomer is also a trainer, and she’s helping us a bit, but Waldo just won’t go outside to pee. If I can get him to go outside, he just whines until he can go in to see my dad again. When my parents were on vacation, he made some progress, but that almost completely fell apart when they got back. We’ve tried two different puppy potty training aid sprays, but he’s generally uninterested. We’ve also tried a “don’t mark here” spray, but he just rolls in that one (if it’s on the carpet. If I put it outside, he doesn’t care). He also sometime eats his own poop, but I don’t catch him doing that as much anymore.
I do not know what to do. I would try putting a leash on him at all times to get him to go outside, but because he’s so small and fast, he hides in all sorts of places and I’m worried about him getting tangled and hurt. I will take any and all suggestions, I’m desperate
submitted by cassidyjoy19 to dogs [link] [comments]