Link: https://www.elperiodico.com/es/deportes/20240512/mundial-prefiere-marquez-fiche-red-102252584

A very high percentage of the 1,400 inhabitants of the World Championship paddock take it for granted that 31-year-old Catalan Marc Márquez, eight times world champion, will be the rider chosen by the Ducati Corse team to partner two-time Italian champion Francesco 'Pecco' Bagnaia for the next two years.
The thesis, widely spread in offices, pits and press room of the championship, has gained even more strength after the Italian engineer Gigi Dall'Igna, guru and creator of the great 'boom' of the Borgo Panigale factory and first supporter of the Catalan rider, stated recently that the Italian factory "will take into account when making the decision, not only the results of this season, but the sporting history" of each of the three candidates.
It is clear, therefore, that if the weight of his track record is decisive in the choice, Márquez will undoubtedly be the one chosen. The rider from Cervera (Lleida) has eight world titles, 85 victories and 141 podiums to Jorge Martin's one title, 16 wins and 46 podiums, while Enea 'the Beast' Bastianini has one title, 11 victories and 43 podiums. There is no comparison, indeed.

Ducati's move

As the Grand Prix races go on and 'Martinator' continues to perform as he did last year, when he deserved to be promoted to the position of Bagnaia's wingman (“if they didn't sign him then, why would they sign him now, when they have Marc at their fingertips?” as one of the team bosses of the MotoGP grid told El Periódico), many are convinced that Ducati, which does not need MM93 for anything, as it wins races with a handful of riders, only wants to keep the best rider of all time under its umbrella (electronics work miracles) and prevent the decisive Márquez, who has already shown in recent months to have recovered his voracity and riding skills, from joining the ranks of any other competitor.
All the sources consulted by El Periódico affirm that Dall'Igna is tremendously in love with the elder Márquez, proud, among other reasons, that the best on the grid is, they say, burning with the desire to ride the real official Ducati, as he now rides last year's bike. The Borgo Panigale guru, who, last year, was in negotiations with Honda, is the most influential person in the structure of the Audi-owned factory and, therefore, his opinion is vital for the closing of the deal.
El Periódico is in a position to state that the World Championship and, of course, Liberty Media, the new owners of 80% of Dorna Sports, the organiser of the two-wheeled competition, would be happy to see Márquez opt to strengthen the KTM team, sponsored by Red Bull, the long-time sponsor of MM93. What is more, a source close to the top of Dorna does not understand why the Austrian firm, with whom the Catalan idol made his 125cc World Championship debut (he was champion on a Red Bull-sponsored Derbi), is not stepping up its approach to Márquez, who last Thursday acknowledged that he was talking to all the brands.

Perfect marriage

"It's the perfect marriage," said the source, "as it would be a beautiful and spectacular way to come full circle: to debut and 'champion' with KTM in 125cc and to conclude your successful career with the same factory, taking it, who knows, to the top of premier class. It is clear that for the World Championship organisers to have Márquez as a Ducati rider is not comparable to presenting a 'team' on the grid with the all-time champion and Pedro Acosta, 'the shark of Mazarrón', who everyone considers, right now, the heir of the eight-time world champion.
Now that's a tremendous clash: Marquez-Acosta versus the Ducati squad. Such a change would alter and brutally encourage the championship, the attendance of spectators, the take-off of the audiences and, above all, the media coverage of a World Championship, which has just been sold to an American investment fund for a whopping 4.2 billion euros.
Many in the MotoGP paddock are wondering what Ducati can offer Marc Márquez, compared to what the millionaire tandem formed by Red Bull and KTM could offer him. Nobody believes that the Borgo Panigale firm, which, I insist, does not need MM93 to win, would offer a million-dollar contract to the Catalan, while the energy brand that sponsors him could help the Austrian factory to raise a handful of millions to sign him.
Not only that, but Ducati has no reason to go crazy once they have strengthened their two-time champion team with the current Gresini Racing Team leader. That would mean that Márquez would become just another member of the Italian firm, surrounded by Italians, while Red Bull's media, marketing, television and networking apparatus, capable of sending a man into the stratosphere (Felix Baumgartner, 2012), could help Marc to achieve one of his dreams: The red tide in the stands at all the circuits of the World Championship is the same as the one that accompanies the Dutch F1 champion Max Verstappen, whose orange fans populate the grandstands of all the circuits of the single-seater World Championship.
Those who are voting for the deal (Marc Márquez's move to Red Bull KTM) to become a reality are not looking at contract reasons or anything like that. True, the Austrian brand has several riders under contract, including South African Brad Binder, one of the last riders in the sprint race yesterday, and Australian veteran Jack Miller, but, at the end of last season, it had to make room for the 'shark of Mazarron' in its structure and it did it quickly and efficiently.

KTM wants to win now!

"KTM, my friend, is a factory that has won the world title in all the competitions, categories and specialities in which it has decided to compete at the highest level and, for the moment, only MotoGP resists it," commented to El Periódico, in Le Mans, one of the best engineers of the premier class.
"And now," the same technician went on to explain, "we have all been able to see, especially with the portentous Pedro Acosta, that his bike is ready to fight for the big title all year round in the hands of a rider with experience, courage, determination and hands like Marc, while the 'shark' is growing." There is nothing better for this Murcian talent than to be at the side of Márquez, who has spoken highly of him since he appeared in Moto3.
In addition, the Márquez brothers' manager, Jimmy Martínez, is a former and experienced senior executive of the Red Bull company, which means that he has plenty of contacts to guarantee not only a good contract but also the technical and human conditions, that is to say, the recruitment of the reinforcements needed for his pupil to rebuild, perhaps, his 'paddock' family in the Red Bull KTM.
The experts only have a couple of 'buts' to all this conjecture. One, that Marquez should fall in love with the KTM as he is in love with the Ducati. And, two, if the signing were to happen, Marc would have to re-adapt to a new bike, different from his old Honda and his current 'Desmosedici'.
But none of these 'buts' seem insurmountable, when it comes to the best in the world, who in the fifth race of the season was already rubbing shoulders with the best, ready to win, as he proved yesterday at Le Mans.

I noticed that in the rufusin patches of revanced on my phone (Google pixel 7 pro if it matters) videos which have chapters, do not show the chapters, and I have to manually drag the red bar to see which chapter I am on, I tried turning chapters on in the revanced settings, it doesnt work, anyone else encountered this?

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
First/Previous
Archive

• Rob Weiss is her favorite ex-boyfriend.
• He’s the one person that was a good guy, talented, creative, and inspired her a lot. They were together for 7.5 years.
• He feels the same way about her.
• He liked her dad.
• Her mom and Weiss got along well. Her mom painted a house (her own? Weiss’?) and wanted to see Weiss’ reaction.
• Doherty avoids obstacles now, instead of trying to plow through them.
• He was on vacation in 1991, and met her at Bar One. He knew who she was. He had wanted to go into the film business.
• He made a movie, went to the Sundance Film Festival, moved to L.A.
• 2 years later, Doherty was married. Doherty started dating him around 1994.
• They moved in together quickly after Doherty left her first husband.
• They got together right before her 23rd birthday.
• He was not successful, but not a failure. He wrote “Milk Bar”. He did “American Psycho”.
• They watched Clerks together.
• Doherty says he introduced her to the indie film world.
• They were engaged. But after her first marriage, she believed a piece of paper doesn’t mean anything.
• Doherty’s mom still wears her wedding band, even though Doherty’s father died.
• They connect with each other on a soul level.
• He has a child with another woman.
• Doherty learned she needs to listen to her gut.
• They broke off the engagement a week before the wedding.
• Doherty was still following what was happening with her first husband.
• Marriage is an antiquated notion to Weiss.
• There’s no woman that’s more important to him than the mother of his child. They had dated for 3 years. But he doesn’t need to marry her.
• Doherty says Weiss is a Math Changer. (See the podcast with Doherty and Les Snead).
• Rick (another ex) was a Buyer Beware.
• Weiss says Rick has different demons. But he’s a cool cat.
• Weiss loves his dad, but he would categorize him as a toxic male. He smoked until he had lung cancer. He served in the military.
• Doherty loves Weiss’ dad.
• Doherty still adores both Rob and Rick.
• Doherty’s soul connection with Weiss will always be there.
• Rob gave Doherty the diamond heart necklace that Prue wore on Charmed.
• Weiss still has some necklaces and rings that Doherty gave him.
• Doherty had a tattoo with Weiss’ name on it. She eventually covered it up with flowers. Weiss did not want to get a tattoo with her name on it.
• He now has tattoos. Such as his son’s name. Since he likes tattoos now, he thinks maybe he would have gotten Doherty’s name on his neck, if he had to make the decision again.
• The best moment they had was in Venice, Italy. They went to get something to eat late at night. The streets were dead. Some guy started to talk to them. They told him they wanted food. They followed him. He directed them to two other people. Doherty thought they were going to get robbed. Eventually they were lead to a restaurant. It was a 24 hour restaurant. And the food was delicious.
• They went to Amsterdam. They ended up at a hostel with 5 beds in a room. She didn’t want to do that.

​

• Doherty thinks it’s hard for Weiss, because he can spend 2 years writing a show. Then he pitches it, and the people he pitches it to don’t like it.
• Weiss tries to work on 10 things at the same time.
• If he had spent 2 straight years working on only one thing, it would hurt him more.
• Doherty had a birthday party at a bar, where there was a fight.
• They had only been dating for 10 days. They started on April Fools Day.
• Greg Vance gave Weiss a weird look. Weiss went up to him and his people and asked if there was a problem. He turned around to his right, and got headbutted on his nose.
• The fight spilled out onto the street.
• He doesn’t roll with a large posse anymore.
• He stopped drinking 5 years ago.
• He loved red wine.
• He can’t be hungover at 7am, with his kid, anymore. He had to set a better example.
• His son is his dad reincarnated.
• He’s been nominated 3x for Entourage.
• Doherty just found out Weiss was nominated at the Sundance Film Festival for Grand Jury Prize.
• Doherty was so excited when she, Jason Priestley, and Luke Perry presented an award at the Emmys.
• Weiss thought Entourage was going to be horrible. He didn’t think the audience would connect with the show.
• Doug Elin had wanted Weiss to play Billy Walsh.
• Weiss’ first impression of Doherty was that she was his dream girl. She was fun. She was spicy. She smoked cigarettes like a fighter pilot. Sexy, great style. Amazing cook.
• Doherty wants another relationship. She just doesn’t want to get married again.
• Weiss does better in life on some nights when he can take a bubble bath, get up at 5:30am, and does what he needs to do, without having a conversation.
• Doherty agrees, so why can’t there be a relationship where Weiss doesn’t move in with someone, and they keep their separate places? So they can have off nights as needed.
• He thinks the guy should be older, but has nothing against men who are with women 20 years older. Whatever fits one’s preference.
• He just wants a positive energy with someone.
• He’s not looking for someone to go on a cruise together with.
• Weiss and Doherty dated for 2 - 3 years before they got engaged.
• The proposal was basically Doherty going “give me the fucking ring”.
• When they were in Italy and France together, Weiss ran into an old friend. That friend was with his girlfriend, who had a 5 carat ring. Doherty then wanted a ring. So they got that friend to make a ring.
• Weiss asked for her parents’ blessing.
• Her parents heaped concerns on him.
• Weiss was surprised, because they had been dating for 3 years.
• Their relationship was from right after she left Beverly Hills 90210, to right after she left Charmed.
• She stopped living with him at some point, and got her own place.
• Dick Wolf offered Doherty a show after Charmed. But she had to move to New York. She didn’t want to do that. She was in love. Her parents were in LA. She says she was an idiot for turning it down.
• They were on again, off again a few times during those 7 years.
• Dating was more pure back then, compared to now. Now it’s transactional. Dating is now only with people that can help someone.
• Weiss calls it opportunistic. And leveraging.
• Now, people develop a fantasy relationship with someone. Then they meet them, and it’s different.
• It was easier back then, because you dated people you knew, from within Hollywood.
• Weiss has supported Doherty during her cancer.
• Weiss was devastated when Doherty’s cancer came back.

Hi! I want to connect my Sony HT-A7000 soundbar to my Yamaha CP88 digital piano, as the piano has no built in speaker. Please help me understand the ports/ how to connect them:
Just to preface I am a audio noob- my CP88 has 2 standard 1/4" mono audio jacks. OUTPUT [L/MONO]/[R] jacks (page 19 of the manual).
I wish to connect them to HT-A7000's 1 singular analog in jack (page 11 of manual).
Here are my questions:

1. Will this work? What kind of cable do I need for this?
   
2. What exactly is a analog in jack? I tried googling but I still have no idea what exatly this is, is it 1/4, or 1/8, or 3.5mm? From my search, the CP88's unbalanced jacks are 1/4 TRS, so what about the soundbar?
   

Just to add I am aware CP88 has a USB to host connection, but I need to have it connected to my DAW on my laptop so ideally I'd want to use the 1/4 jacks on my piano.
Thank you so much!

Hi! I want to connect my Sony HT-A7000 soundbar to my Yamaha CP88 digital piano, as the piano has no built in speaker. Please help me understand the ports/ how to connect them:
Just to preface I am a audio noob- my CP88 has 2 standard 1/4" mono audio jacks. OUTPUT [L/MONO]/[R] jacks (page 19 of the manual).
I wish to connect them to HT-A7000's 1 singular analog in jack (page 11 of manual).
Here are my questions:

1. Will this work? What kind of cable do I need for this?
   
2. What exactly is a analog in jack? I tried googling but I still have no idea what exatly this is, is it 1/4, or 1/8, or 3.5mm? From my search, the CP88's unbalanced jacks are 1/4 TRS, so what about the soundbar?
   

Just to add I am aware CP88 has a USB to host connection, but I need to have it connected to my DAW on my laptop so ideally I'd want to use the 1/4 jacks on my piano.
Thank you so much!

Just a few things I learned while reading the Division books during a recent trip.

• Agents generally carry only one primary weapon and a sidearm.
  
  • The Division uses specially-issued backpacks, not 5.11 or other consumer brands are in the games. Any non-agent seen wearing one is generally shot on sight.
  • Specialization weapons are electronically locked to the SHD Network, and become inoperable if an agent loses network access.
  • Agents’ contact lenses can ‘mark’ specific targets for each agent, like in the Ghost Recon series.
  • Div1’s Medkits are mix of amphetamines and painkillers. Highly addictive, with horrible withdrawal symptoms. Hunters get steady drip of the stuff tailored for their metabolism.
  • Smart Watches can be recalibrated to recognize a new wearer, via vocal command from another active agent.
  • One agent can deploy up to a dozen Turrets, including different variants (I.e. both normal and Sniper).
  • Both Black Tusk and Keener’s rogues also have countermeasures to stop rogues’ Smart Watches from turning red.
  • Division agents actually STRONGLY object to killing the leaders of hostile factions as a means of destabilizing them. “We’re not assassins”, was the quote, I believe.

Does any one know the meanings ? I just know green is charged and red is dying lolz the digital manual was a bit confusing for me

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1. You don’t need to search manually, after clicking on the Advertisement you will get ‘Red Colored Website’ which you need to click once and wait until the timer is finished. You have to search upto 10 pages The correct listing may be highlighted in red.

Thank you

First Previous Wiki
A group of Sprilnav had entered the room, dragged claws bearing paint across Kashaunta and Penny's faces, and left again. Another group of Sprilnav, this time Elders, had entered the room, leading to a hologram forming around Penny and Kashaunta to hide their faces behind perfect masks.
They carried a long black box on their shoulders. Kashaunta approached their kneeling forms, unlatching the box with her claws. Special sounds chimed from electronic locks, and the box flipped open, revealing a new Soul Blade. It was Azeri's Soul Blade, or the one he'd once owned at least. Given the new information Penny had on them, the sword wasn't truly 'his' in a literal sense.
They had then moved to a more central room on the flagship, complete with a massive kitchen, bedroom, and entertainment room. Kashaunta's quarters were lavish, though they were not as flush with finery and gold as Penny would have expected.
Penny wore Kashaunta's Soul Blade on her hip. The ancient weapon didn't seem to have the mind-altering effects the last one did. But it was beyond powerful, for sure. It also came with a stealth coating that could be activated to hide its presence.
Azeri's Soul Blade, on the other hand, definitely affected her.
Penny could hear the faint sounds of distant voices echoing in her thoughts. She could sense Cardi and Nilnacrawla in her mind more clearly as if she'd finally put on a set of glasses after not having them her entire life. So many things were clearer now, but so many weren't. Kashaunta had made a sacred agreement with her, at least in Sprilnav culture.
Backed by the Progenitors. All of them, apparently. And they were all sworn to silence, which Nilnacrawla and Kashaunta assured her would also include Twilight and Nova. She could understand that, but Nova's actions toward Penny in the past made her wary of relying on him for anything related to her safety.
And it was before the Judgment, now in nine days. Kashaunta's VIs had gathered the data, ordered it, and formulated responses. She'd designed them to sound like real people and real things that would be said, not just decent scripts with odd lexicon and grammatical habits.
"So," Penny said, looking at Kashaunta relaxing beside her. The Elder's carefree stance didn't fool Penny as to what had just happened. It had looked rushed, but she knew there was a larger purpose behind it than she believed. "The Pact. Were you truly this desperate to regain my trust?"
"I was," Kashaunta admitted. "And am. I have a tendency to manipulate people around me. This has made me good at being able to tell when a relationship is falling apart. Were I not to do something this extreme, we would have continued to fall apart, and eventually the rift would have been too large for even this to bridge.
I do not expect forgiveness or for you to understand my viewpoint and ideas. I have destroyed nations and entire civilizations. I have spent my fair share of time in evil, and use the threat of who I was and who I am against those who slight me. Reputation is important among our species, more so than anything but power. But they are linked.
A reputation of weakness will never exist with a person of strength. If it develops, the Elders will pile onto that unfortunate soul to plunder the riches they believe can no longer be protected. And once you fall, it is impossible to rise again. We do need each other, Penny. Perhaps you do not agree, yet, but this goes beyond the Judgment."
Penny wanted to argue. She wanted to listen to the voices demanding her hatred of the Elder before her- wait, what?
Penny frowned. She focused on them, and they appeared. A cacophony of voices, all Sprilnav in origin. They were definitely here and worryingly a part of her psychic energy. It almost seemed like they were the voices of those she'd freed. Which wouldn't make sense unless... her title was actually bearing conceptual power.
She supposed that it was possible then.
"Kashaunta," Penny said.
"Yes?"
"Why do you have faith in me, when, as you say, so many others have failed?"
"Because you possess Cardinality. You possess Humanity. You even have a Progenitor Title, though it is only a budding one. Your approach to this, besides a few mistakes on our part, is remarkably sound. You have moved away from hatred of the Sprilnav to that of Elders. And you have moved away from hatred of Elders and Progenitors to that of certain Elders and Progenitors, which I understand.
Ultimately, you have me convinced that you do not want to carry out a war of vengeance against me and my kin for the actions we did before your species had a name. I know it is difficult to overcome hatred, and more so with a voice in your head telling you to distrust all we Elders say and do. And I believe you can convince the Alliance to restrict its war to methods that are not as destructive."
Penny thought it was odd how much Kashaunta was stressing it. Either the Alliance wasn't considered a threat to the Sprilnav or it was. Kashaunta seemed to suggest it was, perhaps, to flatter Penny somehow. She didn't exactly buy it but would let it play out.
It would be important for Penny to learn more about the Elder's viewpoint before the Judgment to exploit it among other Elders to help win the Judgment. She'd have to portray herself and the Alliance as weak, which meant learning more about Sprilnav technology and power. The briefings from the last meetings before the previous Judgment had been enlightening on that front. But Penny wanted the best shot she could have on this.
"Such as?"
"Culture war."
"That has a certain meaning among my species," Penny said. "I am not sure if it translates correctly."
"I want your Alliance to begin to turn the population against slavery. Just that. Go no further. If you do that, the Elders will fight back. This will escalate, and the list of grievances will grow. We will have rebellions, and they can win with my help."
"And what comes next?"
"I take power, of course. I do not purge the Sprilnav who rose to the top, but reward them. I bind them by respect and loyalty instead of fear and hatred. Objectively, it will be better to have a single unified state than a disparate mess of warring territories. Quality of life, quality of death, and everything in between. We can go further, if you like.
Turning the Collective into literal heaven for those who die, where they can return to real bodies as often as they want for free. I can extend this to other species and, over thousands of years, wear away the animosity between the Sprilnav and the rest of the galaxy. I distribute gifts, I lower taxes, and use android labor to replace slavery entirely. Would you not agree that this is better?"
"I am not sure. How would you maintain the state, when threats come from within and without?"
"Limits on power, separation of branches of government. Police forces, military forces. We have police trained to de-escalate situations, even when they are armed with riot shields or actual guns. There will obviously be some requirement for state violence, but I will lower it as far as possible."
"There will be those who wish to be independent."
"And they can be."
"You are not concerned about that?" Penny asked.
"With even just the Autonomous Peoples' Stars, independence is risky. Dangerous. People do not start those movements because if they succeed, they get invaded by a border power. Earth has seen that happen in its history, particularly with Europe and Asia. Luna would have seen it as well by now, if not for the First Contact. The problem is the power disparity. Going from the passive backing of 500 thousand planets and a central militarized state to that of maybe 4 or 5 planets with disjointed connections and only garrison supplies is a massive drop."
"But with your plan, there would be no border powers."
"There would be, of course," Kashaunta said. "There must be. Nations without a significant outside threat, that is at least somewhat credible, have a more difficult time staying united. Without a 'them' it is more difficult to define an 'us,' as we know very well."
"That is quite a cold way of looking at reality."
"Those who do otherwise are smears of gore amongst the black of space, or rotting in the ground of their home planets. Elders do not remain Elders by stupidity alone. Eventually, a few lessons must be learned."
"Must?"
"Must, even if they are later forgotten."
Kashaunta let out a sigh. "You and I, Penny. We are vastly different people. I admire your idealism, and I envy it. But when it comes to control of societies and curation of national identities, I have a vast array of experience."
"You do," Penny agreed. "The Pact says we should not lie to each other, so I will no longer dance around my reasons for my misgivings. I do not trust you because you are everything that has ruined the fortunes of my species in the past, often promising things like you do. Security before freedom, usually. You are rich. You are very far above most Sprilnav and even most Elders. You are a politician and a state leader. History tells me to be wary of such people, especially when they possess high amounts of power. Authoritarian countries can, with proper management, outpace those which are not by refusing to limit themselves by morals and ethics.
You are a queen, a monarch. This title goes back to the days of barbarity among our kind, when we believed people were superior based on bloodlines and genetics, sometimes to the extreme of actual inbreeding. You are highly experienced with manipulation, having billions of years of experience. I likely would not know whether you are manipulating me, and even Nilnacrawla has billions of years less experience with Elders than you would on account of his separation from Sprilnav society for so long.
I have no other trustworthy sources for what you say and do. I am surrounded only by enemies, neutral people, and you and Lecalicus alone as actual allies. Truth be told, there is nothing that will stop you from going back on all that you say because people like you have made promises not to before. And they did it anyway.
Companies. Nations. People. With a galaxy full of sentient minds all seemingly built on the same energy and manners of thinking, I see just another politician trying to get in good with me because I can get her what she wants. I fear that, Kashaunta. I fear it a lot. More than I have ever said and ever shown. It is a fear so visceral it colors my view of your entire species.
Because if you've lived a billion years, who's to say you haven't done this all before? How many aliens you've offered this honor, only to cast aside when they die fighting impossible enemies? And yes, my fear of you is that you will betray me. That is a deep-seated and personal matter that I will not explore at this time, but betrayal is something I guard against with all my might.
I hate that you have so much power over me, that I know it, and that you know it. You could enslave me for the next ten days, and I'd do it, to save my species. The Judgment trial is another way of showing the powerlessness of the galaxy before the Sprilnav, the powerlessness of the Alliance before the Sprilnav, and me before you, Justicar, and Yasihaut. Because guess what? I can win this. It will be hard, but I can do it because I set my mind to it, and my mind is my will, and my will is my iron fortress, my gauntleted fist, and my beating heart.
I can, I will, I must. But through all of this, guess what happens if I win the Judgment? Yasihaut files another one. I am strong, Kashaunta. Stronger than any human in history. But even now, inside your sanctum, inside the greatest ship I have ever seen, I remain powerless against the might of your people and your laws. I hear you talk of millennia and galaxies and think of how much I have struggled over the mere ten thousand star systems of the Alliance and this single planet's slave problem. There's billions more.
I have fought against odds beyond comprehension, but even now, I have to break bread with my enemy so that I can continue to survive in the system they built. Because with all that you are, it is impossible for me to see you as anything but an enemy. I cannot understand the value of the Pact. I can only guess at it. But the galaxy's weight is resting upon my shoulders, and my back is bowing. My spine... is breaking. How much more? How many more?
I hate what this universe is. I hate how it is structured. I hate the concepts, the Progenitors, the speeding space entities, and whoever else controls it. For a person to even condone the mindless suffering in this universe is an act of utter insanity. When I see you in your ivory castle, perched upon your mountains of gold, I think of the poor. I think of the justice you deserve that I cannot carry out because of the very power you wield. Do you know how angry that makes me? Do you know that my dreams are still sometimes haunted by Yasihaut's torture? I am a broken person, Kashaunta.
Broken by the weight of who I am and all I must do. But you, you get to sit here and eat, oblivious or indifferent to my suffering. Because you cannot stand to look down for fear of seeing the filth in your claws. I dream of your death, Kashaunta. And a thousand more. I want to tear down your civilization and all others like it. I want to kill, and maim, and murder. I want to be that indomitable power which all others fear and respect.
I want to mount Yasihaut's head on a spear and shove another between Nova's eyes for the crime of daring to use their ultimate power against me. And I want to kill you, too, for being the one I am forced to rely on to survive. For your own power being what forces me to bow and scrape to yet another master. This is why I bear my hatred for your kin, Kashaunta. Why I hate the Elders, the Progenitors, all of it. Because of the inherent unfairness of the galaxy you have built and the banal and insidious evil you have built it upon. I hate you, this galaxy, this universe.
Because you all will never get the justice you deserve, because I cannot repay the sheer weight of atrocity hanging from your heads. And to make you feel what you all deserve, would naturally require me to have the same punishment. Because I can't win without sinking to your level, either by being one of you Elders or having to use your ill-gotten power for my own benefit. I am climbing the mountain, the air is cold, the night is dark, the wind is blowing, and the ice is slick. I stand on the precipice of death, as does all I have known and loved.
To save them, I must use you, an Elder buoyed by an ocean of blood, merely so I can float up a little higher, perhaps to the next cliff or perhaps to that mountain peak. I believe I am fighting for the people. For freedom, justice, and the rights of my kind to self-determination. And to do so, I must sacrifice my own freedom. My own justice. And my own self-determination. All for winning a pointless case, against a stupid Elder who I'd press against a block of red-hot metal, just so I could enjoy her screams. I was a woman, once. A simple woman, a good human.
Now I am a monster. I have killed. I have avoided killing when I should not have. Yasihaut is still alive. Ikirshi is still alive. Tiglath is still alive. Nova is still alive. Azeri is still alive, too, even if his name is dead. Look what I am, and what I've had to do to get here. What will I have to do to continue? I am evil now. Because I will compromise my principles, and claim to fight for freedom while happily breaking bread with an Elder who openly espouses galactic domination. And I can't even say no, for fear of what that would mean for those I know and love.
I am broken, but I can still move. I can still think. And I can still hate. None of you have the right to stand against justice, but I do not have the power to make you kneel to it. Instead, I am being forced into this yet again. I deserve to die for what I am and what I have done, but I cannot because of who and what I fight for. I will only descend into worse depravity. When I am free of the Judgment, I will likely kill the slavers and enjoy it. Because that is what I am becoming now. I'm becoming you. Just as you said I would, proving that I'm powerless even against that."
Thick tears fell from Penny's eyes. With no one else but the Elder in the room and a currently fulfilled promise of no cameras, sound recording devices, and not even guards, only Kashaunta would know how much it pained Penny to say all this aloud. The pain doubled her over as the weight of her realization came to her.
Kashaunta let her be, waiting for Penny's tears to finally run dry. It was an ugly thing. All of the past trauma and misery came roaring back, drowning Penny in a sea of torment and suffering. Cardi and Nilncrawla were powerless to stop it. Her soul ached. Her mind shook.
At least, Penny drew a rasping breath. "So. Now you know, Kashaunta."
"I do," the Elder said. "I can tell you have many feelings on the matter. We don't have to continue discussion."
"You're not upset?"
"No," Kashaunta said. "Not at all. Why should I be? You bared your soul to me in this truth, Penny. Knowing the power I do hold over you, you did so anyway. This only proves that I was right to trust you and your strength."
"This isn't strength. I sat here and cried like a little girl."
"It took strength for you to admit how you feel and why, especially to me. To trust that I would listen, and to express exactly why you wish for me and my kin to die."
"You seem... oddly okay with me wanting to kill you."
"Because I have been surrounded by people who wanted to kill me before. Only one of them, in the long history of my life, admitted such to this extent before making their attempts, and that is you. I understand and respect your motive for wanting me dead, actually. I would feel the same way in your position. You are right. The way things are is not fair, and is not just. I also know that you won't kill me if you have the chance."
"Why do you think that?"
"Well, you do not seem the type to kill your allies, unless they directly betray you. I will not pretend that I am innocent. But do you truly think that you will be able to look me in the eyes, your main supporter among all my kind, and stab me in the heart? Because if you do kill me, I would at least request the honor of you doing it with your own hands. Or even the Soul Blade, if you wish to be poetic about it."
"So no lobbing asteroids of antimatter at you, then?" Penny laughed.
"I would think not, though if we are at that point, the future is lost anyway. To grapple with your past, present and future is a part of life, Penny. This right here is the reason I made the Pact with you. Because you are an honest person, with the will to do what is necessary, and the power to carry it out."
"But you'll be preparing contingencies to kill me, won't you?"
"No," Kashaunta said. "We are past that now."
"You act as if your life is already ending. A once in a billion years Pact with a human, acting like you won't protect yourself from a person who wants to murder you, and being uncaring about your legacy. Why?"
"Because it is you or nothing, Penny. I have lived over 13 billion years. I have had more than a full life. I have made my peace with death. Not the man himself, obviously, but the idea of it. We stand at the crossroads. I will wait no longer for the rot to keep spreading."
"So you will back me in the Judgment, then."
"More than that," Kashaunta said. "I am willing to be your lawyer, and represent you in this trial. If you accept, that is."
"I would, but I must ask you one question. Do you even care about the Alliance beyond what we could do to help you?"
"Yes, and no. I care about their idealism, and that they have AIs with high levels of cognitive power. I care that they recognise the value of Sprilnav lives as more than collateral damage, which is why their war plans only blow up our planets if they lose and are about to go extinct. Humanity and the hivemind are mainly valuable to me because they are valuable to you, the same with the rest of the Alliance. But they to have the ability to put a decent bureaucracy in place, through Phoebe and Edu'frec, or even the hivemind if it expands."
"Would you care if we lost?"
"Yes, though I can force myself not to if I must."
It seemed like an honest assessment of the situation. There was one more thing.
"Are you actually a lawyer, then? And are you skilled with Judticar's laws? It's quite touching that you're still willing to vouch for me, but if you don't have any sort of law degree, I can't exactly accept that."
"Yes to both. While I don't have an Eonic degree, I do have several thousand years of legal studies, with about a hundred in Justicar law."
"Would that actually be sufficient?"
"Yes. When we Sprilnav say we have put a hundred years into something, that is a raw time. It does not include sleeping, eating, vacations, and so on. My implant tells me I spent 181 years specifically studying Justicar law."
"How did you have time?"
"Delegation is a valuable skill for the sanity of country leaders."
"I suppose," Penny said. "Do you think that you and I appearing together in court would be detrimental to my case?"
"The only avenue they could pursue is that you've 'turned' me to your side. But seeing as I am extremely powerful and have refused bribes of inconceivable amounts of wealth, that narrative will be poorly accepted by all but the most biased of Judges. Or High Judges, as the case will be. Unfortunately, I do not qualify as either a Judge or High Judge, but my credentials and power are more than sufficient for them to be unable to block my ability to represent you. You have, as Nilnacrawla may have told you, already paid me for your services. Your linear singularities are more stable than I thought."
"So the money finally shows itself again," Penny smiled.
Kashaunta shared her grin. "Yes. That it does. You are surprisingly profitable as a bonus."
"I'm sure everything else I do is the bonus. Like making the other nations end slavery."
"Well, that would actually make them more productive."
"So why..."
"Elders love feeling powerful. They love having power over others, and being able to show it. They are generally insecure, their brains polluted by eons of paranoia and propaganda. The weakness of Elders is something that the powers that be use to exploit them."
"And your ego?"
"They have to prove their superiority to themselves. I live and breathe it with every step I take in this galaxy."
Penny sighed. "That is an impressive level of narcissism."
"That word didn't translate."
"It is a way to say a person admires themself to an unnatural and unhealthy degree."
"Then it would describe me, except the degree is quite healthy and natural. Elders' egos also help to keep us going. Reputation isn't just an external motivation."
Penny nodded. "We still must discuss your approach toward people in general later. But we have other priorities, don't we?"
"The Judgment," Kashaunta agreed. "You and Yasihaut will attend the Fort Court, and will be even better protected than last time. The Underground beneath it is continually pulverized, as it sits on a mostly active volcanic system, with lava outlets designed to ensure tunneling is impossible. The mindscape side fortifications are similarly impressive, and Justicar has spent a considerable amount of money on ensuring the security of this Judgment.
His reputation hinges on it greatly, even more so as he is there in person as a Judge. This makes him more vulnerable than usual. But if you kill his body, he will live. I do not suggest you try it, however. What I aim to do is present an argument that the premise of the Judgment trial is flawed, as there is limited legal proof that you and the Alliance are a threat to the Sprilnav.
To do this, I have already helped to secure two things for you. The treaty with Valisada and the Pact of Blades with me. These items will ensure the common scrutiny and arguments used against aliens will be ineffective. You have proven yourself capable of adhering to and participating in our customs, especially the ones related to trust and binding agreements. You also have wisely avoided killing any Sprilnav for a while. This, especially in the context of the slaves and the 85th Grand Fleet, will be massively beneficial to your argument.
Beyond this, I also have an array of legal evidence to challenge Yasihaut if she brings up your hatred of her, or the previous Judgment's outcome, or the battle that crippled the Progenitors. Indrafabar will be helpful to us, as he will defend the honor of his kin. He will not allow the argument of you being as strong as the Progenitors be seriously considered. No matter what you say or what people think, this will be a question of whether you can convince Indrafabar and Justicar of your ability to be peaceful, and behind that the Alliance.
You will find it harder to defend the rhetoric the Alliance has put out, but I have secured this portion of the Judgment with my defensive agreements with them as well. You both are anchored to me and my reputation too strongly for any of them to ignore, which is yet another reason why I am hoping to help defend you in person."
"So you are staking your own reputation on me, too. Is that another reason you did the Pact?"
"It is. The reputational blow losing this Judgment could have will not be enough to topple me. But it is a catalyst. It is capable of starting a chain of downfall events that lead to my dethroning or even my death. I am aware of this and am doing what I can to stave off that process and shore up all my defenses. I also have a lawyer with an Eonic degree in Justicar law who will be the main defender of your argument.
My presence in the court will be for your protection and as a reminder of the fact that you have a backer, and that backer is me. I expect Yasihaut's counterparts to undertake a similar process, though she will find it easier due to her being an Elder. I will introduce you to him in ten minutes."
"That is very kind of you, Kashaunta. I know that we have had our differences, and that your past is quite a contentious thing. But if I put all of that aside, and look at you as you are here, and now, I am grateful that you are doing all of this for me and my people. I do not know whether I can repay you for the Pact of Blades, but your conviction and intelligence are traits I admire."
"You are welcome, Penny. I know I cannot atone. But I will help you build a better galaxy, just as it should be."
Penny patted her on the hed, and turned her gaze to the opposite wall.
"I'm afraid," she admitted.
"Fear in this situation is natural. There is no shame in it. Your strength will allow you to work through it. Whether it is the strength you carry in your soul, or that which your father and Cardinality bring with them. You can do this, Penny. We can win."
"And if Yasihaut files another Judgment?"
Kashaunta gave her a dark grin. "I have a plan for that, too. When the Pact of Blades is revealed in the court, my abilities to aid you will widen considerably. They will understand, and if not, Indrafabar will teach them. He was there, after all."
"And this isn't witness tampering or whatever?"
"That doesn't exist here," Kashaunta said. "Justicar's laws do not include that. He enforces that by his soft power. It makes things more fair between Elders, but not between Elders and others. As is by design."
"Kashaunta," Penny said. "While you are an okay person, by your current deeds, I can't really say I'm not going to take the guy with a billion years of legal education over your scant hundred."
"I do not need to be your main lawyer, I just need to have the job listed as such in the courtroom. If he requires it, the lawyer will speak over me and you in all matters."
"You and I, you mean?"
"I do not mean," Kashaunta said. "My language does not always follow your grammatical rules."
"Speaking of that, during the Pact, you spoke a language we couldn't translate for a bit."
"Can you repeat it?"
"'Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Homo Sapiens.' And then you said, 'Tol, nopa shikai.'"
"It roughly means: 'This act is between Penny Balica and the Elder Kashaunta. Now, we are in the claws of the Progenitors. Sp'rkial'nova. Homo Sapiens.' And the second part means 'take it or leave it,' or more accurately 'take or leave.' That's about what I said."
"So Dorima means Elder, and Dorima'Pecunyanova means Progenitor?"
"Yes. The specific translation is 'mourning one' and 'mourning god' for those terms. Pecunyanova was the very first Progenitor, and Nova's grandfather, which he took a piece of the name of. Nova took in the powers of his entire family line when he became a Progenitor, including Pecunyanova's title of Everlasting."
"I can sense a deeper meaning beyond the mourning."
"The type of 'mourning' that the ancient language describes is a soul agony, of the type which drives the happiest souls to suicide and the most evil souls to tears. There are many more descriptions given to the agony of remembering the Source war, which is what defines the name. We mourn our species, our empires, our lost galaxies, and even the aliens that once lived with us. Imagine you were on Earth, and you had a nuclear war. No shields, no bunkers.
And all that survived the aftermath, the starvation and the proxy wars over the scraps that remained, was the equivalent of a single village. That is how close we are to extinction, Penny. Progenitors went mad with grief. Entire cities voted to activate nuclear arsenals upon themselves. 70 whole Grand Fleets drove straight into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, never to return. It is a trauma... a trauma difficult to even describe now, with over 99.99% of my memories of that war strictly sealed away.
By the end of it, we were burning reality itself to try and burn the Source to ash. We weaponized linear singularities, sending them deep into the Source's flesh. We opened spatial rifts in that bastard's galaxy-sized body. We live in a false vacuum, Penny. Our scientists learned that, and harnessed that. We sent weapons at the Source capable of writing entire concepts out of reality and capable of changing reality itself to kill. Weapons outright banned between the universal superpowers were thrown like chaff in the wind. The fear and madness of that time... nothing comes close to it.
And it is another reason why we commit so many atrocities. Because we have lost our power, any way of feeling like we still have even a scrap of it is irresistible. Others have fallen to the sweet bliss of drugs, or the digital equivalent. More Sprilnav than are alive now by a million times are stored in databanks, waiting for us to build a new universal empire."
"And... the Source?"
"The cursed thing lived. A mockery to us all, one which we know we are powerless to do anything about. It could come here even now and crush my flagship between its skin cells. It could crush this entire galaxy by wading through it in a few years. And no, it does not know or care about little things like the speed of light. It broke causality in many of its battles without care for those it killed. And what you don't know is that the Source war wasn't the first time people tried to kill it.
Other universal powers did and drove it back with lesser weapons than what we used. But power that could force it away did nothing when it came for us. That burning, blinding hatred. It was hell, Penny. And what is left behind is almost as bad. And let me say that almost as bad in this case is still constant agony. Constant misery. I was one of them once. One of the Elders that hated everyone in the universe for the crime of being happy after such a horrendous fall.
I killed many people. I destroyed planets. I killed children, babies, and smashed eggs with my own claws. In person. The depths of what I sank to are beyond depraved and evil, Penny. I refuse to lose hope again. This is why I am here, now, backing you. I cannot atone, but I can rebuild. The Source will feed you its lies but do not forget what it is. Who it is. And what it has done to us."
"Your retelling is not fully accurate," Exile said.
"I am aware of that, speeding space entity. I told the most complete story I know, and will not bring back millions of years of agony just to give a better one. It is not safe for her."
"How would it be unsafe for me?" Penny asked.
"Because I would go insane and kill you, obviously."
"And the Pact of Blades?"
"Unless the Progenitors got here in time, you'd still die. They'd kill me next, with only a slight difficulty if only one is sent, and that one is not Nova. No bond is truly unbreakable, but that is what it would take for me to break the Pact of Blades. I... my mind is built on a foundation of ash. Turn that ash back to wood, and the center will fall through."
Penny moved closer to Kashaunta. She moved her arm over Kashaunta's back. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you."

Hello yesterday I was building a cousin pc. I'm not the super expert but I did assembly mine and some friends of mine in the past.
The Specs are the next
https://pcpartpicker.com/list/FWTsN6
I want to ask what the issue of my problem can be. As soon as I did connect everything (well in my mind) two red Leds were turned on static on my MoBo watching the manual it was for CPU and DRAM.
I did reconnect all wires based on what I read yesterday and turned on again and same issue.
Have few questions here.
As a first sight I thought it was a connection (power) issue so here is my question.

• Based on the manual, I have to connect ATX12V1 & ATXPOWER1. Which cables should i use for that. I did connect ATX12V Wire to attach to the 24PIN of ATXPOWER1, the question here is should i connect all pins to PSU cause on the other side i have. I did connect right side to motherboard and Both of the left side to PSU as shown on the image https://imgur.com/cUoyDYY, Am I ok there, right?
• For the Ram I did connect like the image based on the manual of the Motherboard as shown on image https://imgur.com/2qC0Pz6 going well?
• For CPU I did install the Ryzen matching the top left corner as indicated both on Motherboard and CPU, it auto fixates in place, then close the lid until pop up, after that install the CPU Cooler. Here is a question which in my thought it should not affect, I did connect CPU Cooler fans to CPU_FAN2/WP instead of CPU_FAN1, can this cause the issue? I don't think so, but can you confirm?
• Next CPU to PSU I did connect as shown in image https://imgur.com/GeYoIOW, all good or there an issue?
• finally, my PCI E for my RTX 4070, placed on my PCIE1 Slot (closest to top) and after that power PCI 6+2 Cable as shown on image https://imgur.com/2saK6G7

Well after that my computer didn't turn on well and multiple messages, i did disassembly reassembly with no success, and again I disassembly but this time I looked for RAM, CPU and Motherboard CPU Socket.
CPU and RAM looked good, all in shape. But on mother board there was some pins bended, so i end up returning the motherboard and I'm already waiting on the other one. I hope bent pins was the issue otherwise is there something I'm missing on the connections.
I already read and saw a video about the flashback upgrade I will do it on the other motherboard.
Thanks

Hello, I recently got the hot swappable RGB version of the C3 Pro and it's exactly what I was looking for in an entry level mechanical keyboard.
However, one annoyance is that I've been unable to get VIA to properly work with the keyboard. I would like to be able to create macros in the future for my work, but really my current hope was to be able to modify the RGB. I love the pastel-like color option, but I want to adjust it to be either incredibly slow or not moving at all (something that seemed to be possible given the macros in the manual, but didn't work for me).
The Keychron site provides a keymap, but it seems to only be for the standard red lighting version of the keyboard, and as such VIA won't let me configure the keyboard or even try and use the V2 definitions options.
Would anyone happen to know where a keymap would be for this specific version of the C3 Pro, or if there's a way to get VIA to let me configure it with the given ANSI red keymap? It's not the end of the world, but it's quite disappointing if I'm unable to use a part of the keyboard that helped to sell me on buying it.