Can anyone help me figure out why my trades are being rejected? I trade $50k Apex accounts on Tradovate and now when I try to enter an order with my normal contract size (10) the orders are being rejected. I tried logging out and logging back in. My accounts have minimal drawdown (<$20). I have market data subscription. When I look at the orders the text just says chart. When I search the orders it’s blank.

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Ascendant Denali swept his tail across the floor. "Greetings. The New Ascendancy welcomes you and your kin, Diplomat Sommi."
The Misan creature did its equivalent of a bow, honoring him in his palace as was proper. He had been starved of respect from his surrounding powers lately and would feast upon this memory like a fine cut.
"The Misan Li Heptarchies receive your warm greetings, Ascendant Denali. We offer official congratulations on your ascent to the Trikkec throne, and the continued unification of your people. We are glad that you are regaining your prosperity, and offer additional aid to that end."
It was the perfect language of the High Dialect, with almost no imperfections on the translator's part. An expertly trained device, for sure, given the vast cavern between their respective languages. He had a translator as well working to ensure that the Diplomat heard his words correctly, and that he would know how their language distorted them to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings.
Such things could be disastrous with certain civilizations, and Denali saw no need to make true enemies. He was strong enough to project power inside the New Ascendancy but nowhere near so outside of it. Pirates and raiders still festered upon the upper borders, and the lower borders were contested by a few minor lords who had survived the collapse of the Ascendancy. He was currently bombarding their planetary shields with asteroids and lasers.
"Aid of what sort, and with what stipulations?" Denali asked, waving an economic advisor over with a stray claw.
"Military and economic."
"Stipulations?"
"You close all business with the Alliance."
"Ah."
Denali stepped off his throne. "Diplomat, I can assume you know how valuable that relationship is to the Ascendancy? I assume you already have a plan to replace them with something better. If your plan is ready, I will have my advisors review it. If not, no further discussions are to take place."
"Do you accept their power over you, Ascendant?"
"In this galaxy, it does not matter what we accept. If a Sprilnav comes barging into your house and takes your mate in front of you, there is nothing you can do. If one of the Core Powers manages to reach us, they can do the same. There are the laws of nations, and there are those of power. The Alliance's aid, even as its darker purposes twist it, has saved millions of lives. Children eating. Families working. They have the might of two AIs behind them."
"They are far too young of a nation for you to realistically believe their abilities are this high."
"Many have made that mistake," Denali said. "They are an older nation than mine, certainly. Would you say that my nation's abilities are lower?"
"I would not."
"Then you tell lies. I am not some foolish monarch who cannot see the reality in front of him. The Alliance's aid is a tool to keep me leashed like some common lizard. But it comes with economic growth and power that fuels the New Ascendancy further. I do not believe I will overtake their growth even when the entire species is reunited. And since your borders are further away than theirs, you will have added economic costs to any aid you give, with little gain on your end."
"They influence your culture. Your people."
"They do," Denali agreed. "You are a powerful nation as well. You would do the same with your own aid, yes? And you would call for us to destroy our traditions, our religions, and our very culture. We have seen your attempts at negotation with other powers nearer to you. You are an aspiring hegemon. But the Alliance's hegemony is already established. The Grand Defense Organization is something that I might even join, when I have the military might to meet their threshold."
"Why?"
"Because when power rises, others can latch on," Denali said. "Your offer, please. I am quite interested to hear it."
The Diplomat gave him a tablet. Denali brought it up with a hologram isolated from the network. His eyes began to shine.
"You should have led with this, Diplomat."
"Ah, but I needed to see the esteemed Ascendant's viewpoint on us. It is a shame that you must bow and scrape to the Alliance. How would you like to meet them on the field of battle?"
Denali chuckled. "I would like it very much, were they a normal nation. But they are taking planet crackers from King Siran and hauling them back to their space. They have a few of their own, not just stolen from the Wisselen."
"And they are pacifist."
"But not weak, Diplomat. All that means is they will not start the fight. But as we stand now, they will finish it. And a transfer of this many ships likely comes with enormous drawbacks and conditions."
"Then let us discuss those conditions, Ascendant. I am sure something more sufficient to your tastes can be selected."
"I am glad to hear that." Denali made a table hologram that was complete with hard light compatibility. Seating for the Misan, his guards, and Denali and his guards also appeared. The table was transparent.
"I will present my documents on this, and we can discuss in greater detail how you can divest from the Alliance without significant economic damage. There are certain facets we have identified which are key to your growth: military might, industrial capacity, and social cohesion."
Denali rubbed his teeth with his claws. Several cooks came in, bringing him food. The Misan Diplomat and his entourage refused, which was expected given the vast differences in their palettes.
"Those are indeed key parts of the Alliance's aid. Do you have an answer for me which is cheaper than the exports of the Alliance?"
"Yes. We can deliver 250 billion androids capable of continuous work for 20 years, each with a 96% likelihood of continued operation at the end of this period. We are willing to deliver these for you at once, though we would only request an escort of your ships alongside our own for added diplomatic security."
"A veritable army," Denali said.
"None of which will carry or operate weapons."
"We would need to verify that before shipping," Denali said. "As we would need to do for the price. The Alliance demands 1% of our current discretionary yearly foreign trade budget. How does your offer compare?"
"We would ask for a 30 year non-aggression agreement, and diplomatic outposts in your territory, as well as a possible defense pact, where we can defend you legally and militarily against Alliance encroachment."
"A large offer," Denali said. "Tell me, what is in it for you?"
"The Heptarchies wish to curtail the Alliance's growing influence by any means necessary, even if it means spending large amounts of money in the process. Having a monetary outflow is something the Heptarchies are happy to entertain, and we would be grateful for you to join us in this endeavor."
"And what of the risk of me playing both sides?"
"We can offer you high enough boons to ensure that does not occur."
So a bribe, then. A massive one. It was already enticing, but Denali sensed he could get more with better negotiations.
"You mentioned social cohesion and military might as well," Denali said. "Can you explain what you mean by this, and what aid you will send to address this?"
Now, the Diplomat looked more uncertain. It was an act, though a fairly convincing one. The pause lengthened.
"Ascendant Denali, surely you understand..."
"I understand you said 'any means necessary' for curtailing the Alliance. With an AI in their nation, such a thing will be expensive, yes? I'm sure that I need not remind you I will choose what is best for my nation overall. And if you cannot come through... I can always notify them of this offer to explore their ability to match it. Or, gods forbid, even exceed it."
"The trade agreement cannot encompass-"
"Then we have nothing more to discuss, Diplomat."
"Wait! Fine, we can discuss it! Just let us work out the new conditions. They're favorable to you, Ascendant. The Heptarchies value you as a potential customer-"
"I'm sure you do. You have four days to present an offer I appreciate more," Denali said, shoving the tablet back at the Diplomat. "Would you like me to procure food capable of Misan consumption?"
"That would be kind of you, Ascendant. We will accept that. And we will begin drafting a more suitable deal for both of our nations."
"Good!" Denali grinned, settling upon his chair with a new sense of pride in his posture.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Elder Pundacrawla settled his robe about his shoulders as he waited outside the room. In his implant, a small countdown reached zero. The silver doors slid open, and his eyes feasted on the room. It was quite ornate, but what really set it apart was the scene in the center. Elder Kashaunta sat on a short chair across a small table from the object of the entire star system's latest obsessions.
The bipedal alien sat in her own chair, which had an odd raised section to support her back. Her clothing was somewhat simple, with black and grey fabric covering her upper torso. He could tell the fabric was high quality—in fact, it was infused with psychic energy.
Her odd face looked a little smushed, and there was a faint red color to her pale skin and two bars of psychic energy thicker than he'd ever seen adorning her cheeks. She appeared unassuming, but her eyes latched onto him with an entrancing glare.
Her scrutiny waved over him, making Pundacrawla smile. Her gray hair fluttered, with a ring of fabric collecting it behind her head to rest on her back. Her fingers were short, without claws of any appreciable size. Her feet were hidden entirely by shoes; he could sense a thick armor.
In the mindscape, she roiled with collected psychic energy, like a promise of action for any slight. Her mind almost looked to have three minds in one, and iron bands of psychic energy encircled it from all sides, even above and below, preventing any quick avenue of mental attack. All in all, she was like an alien Elder when the conceptual energy came into account. She reminded Pundacrawla of an old friend, a secret he kept with Kashaunta that initially had been her leverage over him.
"It is an honor to meet you," Penny said. "You look as impressive as Kashaunta said."
There was no accent. The words flowed from her mouth smoothly, and Kashaunta showed no reaction to the omission of her title. That alone spoke volumes, and Pundacrawla knew he would be showing Penny more respect than most had the privilege to receive.
"I am happy to meet you as well, Penny Balica. Your accomplishments follow your name, and you are also quite impressive."
He settled on a third chair that appeared in front of him. He took a deep breath, his eyes falling on the pair of them.
"Elder Kashaunta has hired me to serve as your lawyer in the Judgment trial," Pundacrawla said. "This requires a great deal of risk to be taken on my part, which has also required that I received advancements."
He drew the word out, causing Penny to raise an eyebrow.
"Advancements?"
"Yes. I would like you to push the Soul Blade toward my left front leg."
Penny drew the sword, her fingers wrapping around the hilt easily. A grip of psychic energy materialized on her hands, and she carefully pressed the tip of it into the place he'd marked.
His skin was pierced. Penny frowned as her weapon went no further. Black blood spilled from the wound, which closed within moments.
"What?"
"These are Type 3 nanites," Pundacrawla said. Black limbs materialized on his back, a second set of arms. And then a third set. They withdrew quickly.
"They also happen to cost a considerable amount of money," Kashaunta said. "Which I have paid, thanks to the added funds your singularities have brought."
"I will tell you not to worry if I am killed in the courtroom. I already have a deal in place with the Collective to ensure, at considerable costs, that I will still survive in some form."
"And killing Pundacrawla is also a declaration of war on the Peoples' Autonomous Stars," Kashaunta added. "You do not stand alone."
"Indeed, I do not," Pundacrawla smiled. He bowed his head toward Penny. "If I may, I would like to start the discussion around the argument for this case."
His implant connected to several devices on his body, manifesting many holographic articles and stories around the room. Penny's 'Liberator' title was printed on half of them in the headline. In others, images and even videos of her in various situations took precedence.
Pundacrawla pulled up an image of Penny kneeling in the rubble of Justicar, holding a dead child. "This is the argument I will make for you."
Penny nodded, her silence confirming that this was the right decision.
"You will be the alien who came to a world named after the concept of justice, and an Elder who bears the same name. I will show how you care for many Sprilnav in your life, and also that you have little motivation to do so purely for the Judgment. I will show you as a loving daughter to a doting father, as a willing partner of Elder Kashaunta, bearer of the Pact of Blades, and as a woman capable of acting with wisdom and grace beyond her years to work with an enemy to sign a truce contract.
I will paint you in as sympathetic a light as possible and will eventually call you as a witness several times. You will need to swear upon your life that you are not lying, and Indrafabar and Justicar will both be capable of detecting your lies, total or partial. If you want to win this case, you will follow my advice without hesitation and without question. Do you understand?"
"I do, Lawyer Pundacrawla."
"You may call me High Lawyer Pundacrawla, or Elder Pundacrawla. With an Eonic degree, I am deserving of this title, and it will remind them of who backs you and who I am."
"I understand."
Pundacrawla took a long moment to organize his thoughts. He removed unnecessary jargon that might be untranslatable. He had the VI program rephrase and dumb down the explanations he needed to say so they would be shorter and easier to understand. Understanding was critical for the early phases of any case, and the client always needed to be ready for what came.
That was Rule 53.
"Now for the second half of the Judgment. The Alliance. They have published a great deal of rhetoric condemning the Sprilnav and the Elders. Yasihaut will first attempt slander using the usual methods. Your species, your barbarity, your lack of being Elders. She will find images of people on social media platforms calling for the deaths of the Sprilnav en mass.
If she desires, she will flood them with this, as the Alliance's population allows for many instances to be located. She may call to past Elders' deaths or to the previous battles with herself and Kashaunta in the earlier history of your nation. But the most likely platform she will use to pose the Alliance as a threat will be the presence of Phoebe, Edu'frec, Brey, and the hivemind of Humanity. The reasons for this are many. I will list several now, with ideal ways to counter them also attached.
Given Yasihaut's personality, she feels that you and the Alliance's continual success is a direct and constant threat to her reputation as an Elder. When you first shamed her, this is what ignited her hatred. Kashaunta has regaled you more on what reputation means to us immortals, but it is a severe concern. Do not underestimate her willingness to regain her reputation and to do so by attempting to defeat you in a public matter.
Here, your physical advantages will be nullified. If you speak out of turn or show signs of resistance, they will be twisted against you and the Alliance. The next reason is that your specific rivalry is personal. It is unique, and the High Judges know this. You are a threat to her, and everyone in that court knows you mean to kill her when the Judgment ends. Do not express your wishes to do this because she may present your threat to her as one to Elders overall. Now, for the Alliance, the fear of AI, unregulated, intelligent, and improving, as Phoebe and Edu'frec both qualify as, is ancient and potent among the Elders.
Across all of history, rogue AI presents the largest threat to our rule, making weapons capable of disabling our ships with merely thousands of years of time to advance. The Alliance has been given leniency on this. But most importantly is the Path. For an AI, approaching technological singularity is a threat to all other beings in existence by the sheer possibilities that it provides. Yasihaut knows this, as do the High Judges. I will aim to prove that Phoebe and Edu'frec do not intend to kill the Elders or go to war with them when they reach singularity.
But this, Penny, will require that Phoebe comes to the stand herself and swears before the court. The Collective will be connected to her and will be capable of detecting the lies in all forms she attempts to tell. This is likely the only way to defeat the arguments Yasihaut presents in that manner. While Phoebe is not allowed to represent you as a lawyer, she is still allowed to be a witness, presumably for exactly this reason. The Collective will also use this as a means to determine Phoebe's progress in weaponry, so I suggest she finds a way to hide those memories well. The next reason Yasihaut will involve the Alliance is because it is visibly divided.
Your leaders bicker and argue, and she will attempt to use this to show you as an unstable power with dangerous ambition. She will use the clashes between your leaders as a way to convince the High Judges that you cannot be trusted, as your lifespans are too short and your minds too alien to remain trustworthy and united in their support of any sort of treaty. She will likely use this to bypass the reality of your truce with Valisada, which the Alliance is not a direct party to. She will discuss the specific threat of Brey in the Alliance. Her ability to use portals makes your nation over fifty times as productive as it would otherwise be.
This makes you an economic threat, coupled with Phoebe. Brey has a historical hatred of the Sprilnav, which also motivates possible military attacks against us. She is also being directly strengthened by the Alliance's psychic amplifiers. I will attempt to stave off this argument by downplaying the threat Brey poses and showing the reality that a Progenitor could kill her instantly.
I am not expecting any specific arguments in this scenario to be effective against the High Judges. This will be a difficult point if Yasihaut exploits it properly. As for the hivemind of Humanity, your threat comes in multiple forms. Firstly, we can confirm you share some power with the hivemind. So if you grow strong, it too will grow strong, and it bends to the will of Humanity as a whole. Polls show that you all, to put it lightly, hate us.
The hivemind also has a direct diplomatic link to the Source and easy access to it via the Servant in the hivemind's city and the city's location itself amidst the Source's bones. Remember that many of us still call the Source the Great Enemy and the Servants the Enemy. Yasihaut will likely attempt to use Rimiaha's presence here to link you as well to the image of the Source, if not the hivemind. If she does this successfully, you will lose the case.
The hatred we have for the Servants is almost bottomless and is only exceeded by that of the Source. Kashaunta has told me that there have been over 30 thousand attempts to kill Rimiaha since he got here, most psychic in nature. All of them have failed due to the intervention of either Justicar, Kashaunta herself, or Rimiaha using his psychic energy to blend in with Sprilnav. Behind the scenes, Kashaunta has destroyed entire mercenary companies in the Underground for this and made deals with Justicar to suppress any mention of this to avoid stirring the fires of war. I will do whatever I can to distance you from Rimiaha.
But if this fails, you must call him to the stand. Make him testify of his lack of willingness to attack the Sprilnav. Indrafabar may request that his mind be invaded to determine the truth about this. If the Source intervenes in that case or Rimiaha refuses, you will also lose the trial. This is the most dangerous idea that Yasihaut could bring against you, which links back to Humanity and you, Penny.
Another reason she has is that if she can push the Judges enough on the Alliance to either level more restrictions or kill the AIs, you will be crippled beyond recovery and will fade into nothingness for her to kill at her leisure. In short, most of this trial hinges on circumstances and testimonies given by witnesses. This is another reason Indrafabar is on the case. He can detect lies in almost any being if he uses his power. And if you resist, which you might be capable of, but..."
"I lose."
"Exactly. This is not a place of honor. This is not a court like before. Arguments will be heard, debated, and either accepted and recorded or discarded and ignored. I will do my best to use Justicar's law principles like recency to your favor, but history is littered with petty Judges making decisions on cases related to how much a threat people are. Not to this level, of course, but there is luckily precendent to lean on in both types of outcomes."
"Pundacrawla, I thank you for your high-level overview. Shall I assume the legal jargon was left out of your description?"
"Yes," he said. "I was uncertain if some words would translate."
"What are my realistic chances for winning this trial?"
Pundacrawla sighed. He didn't want to see her hope shatter, but he refused to lie. Kashaunta seemed fine with him sitting here and talking about things truthfully. If she wasn't, she would have requested a different lawyer.
"In the worst case scenario, which is Indrafabar and Justicar dislike you, and Yasihaut has a lawyer with an Eonic degree of their own, then I would say about 9%."
"That is quite high, actually, for a worst case scenario."
"That is only because this is a Trial by Majority, Kashaunta's backing and all that implies, your friendships with Nilnacrawla, Spentha and Equisa's continued survival within the Alliance, the various political motivations the Judges might have, the fact that you have built up your image, that you have refrained from killing your enemies recently, and the extreme nature of Yasihaut's hatred for you.
Your attack on Tassidonia's court normally would have been the death knell for you. But since your power didn't kill anyone and specifically was weakened to avoid that, it has been a boon more than a curse. And the Sprilnav with bleeding hearts also are pleased with your war on slavery. You will lose that war without Kashuanta's help, but your determination on that is seen as an endearing characteristic."
"Endearing?"
"The Elders think of you as a child, Penny," Kashaunta said. "Your fight against slavery is seen as a childish fantasy, but in a good way. If you wish, Pundacrawla can lean into either your maturity or immaturity on this case. Both may achieve the desired effect, if done right."
"I am not sure about that. Who will watch this trial, and how many?"
"Cast away your ego, Penny, it will not serve you here," Pundacrawla said.
"I'm 76 years old. I can handle this."
"I don't think-"
"200 quintillion," Kashaunta blurted out. Penny flinched.
"What?"
"That is the number of watchers on the channels that have reserved timeslots for the trial among Sprilnav territory."
"And... Elders?"
"35 million, likely including all the Elders with names of any note," Kashaunta said. Pundacrawla gave a worried look to Penny. But the human just took a deep breath and nodded.
"Thank you for telling me. That is manageable."
"You're quite composed about this," Pundacrawla noted.
"I can conceptualize the enormity of that, but also this is a pretty big deal. And if I prove that I am fighting for the common people, it will achieve-"
"Nothing," Kashaunta said. "They cannot rebel on a large enough scale to risk toppling the Elders. If there is one aspect of our system that has survived the rot of a billion years of decay, it is the ability to divide and conquer. This is not an opportunity to get a manifesto out. I warn you against treating it as such."
At first, Penny looked wary of accepting the Elder's advice. She seemed to contemplate that matter, though she was really talking with her adoptive father. But instead of arguing, she simply smiled.
"I understand, Kashaunta. Thank you. I was getting a little sidetracked. All that matters is winning."
"So is there anything I can do to increase my chances?" Penny asked Pundacrawla.
"Outreach. Keep fighting the slavers, and maybe do a few interviews. Make sure to express a lack of hostility toward the Sprilnav people. And be wary of the gangs. When you are in the trial, they may seek revenge upon the freed slaves, or upon you yourself. I would not be surprised if they did their best to conduct false flag attacks under your name. In high-profile trials like this with many enemies, that risk is high. The gangs have high numbers of personnel and a motivation to see you lose this trial before you destroy them."
"I see. Thank you, High Lawyer Pundacrawla," Penny said, lowering her head in an approximation of a bow. Kashaunta nodded but didn't say anything. Penny took another breath in, and Pundacrawla could feel the air currents entering her nostrils.
"Can you explain exactly how a Trial by Majority would work versus the previous sort of Judgment?"
"Previously, the Judges, led by a High Judge, had to agree on a verdict. In that case, they failed. This structure is more flexible, however. All the Judges on the court, or the High Judges in this case, may voice their opinions behind closed doors and attempt to come to a verdict. They will emerge when the agreed-upon time period has passed, and their decisions will be made public.
If one Judge disagrees, there will not be a mistrial. Instead, the verdict with the most Judges behind it, ideally the majority opinion, will be the one chosen. This Judgement will have 20 High Judges. The final verdict, if none can reach the required 11 Judges to pass, will simply be held once all remaining evidence is heard or discarded."
"Held?"
"The High Judges will be required to resolve the dispute. If there are three or more options, the one or multiple with the fewest High Judges backing it will be discarded, until a runoff occurs. The result will then determine the verdict given."
"Can I be acquitted of the charges if that is the majority opinion?"
"Yes, you can. So can the Alliance. The structure of this Judgment is such that Indrafabar and Justicar will counterbalance each other."
"Can't Indrafabar just offer them money to do what he wants?"
"If he wants to lose his licence, severely harm his reputation, and destroy the careers of the High Judges being bribed, sure. While obviously Justicar will not have the power to truly punish him, the consequences would be severe, to say nothing of the other Progenitors. Given the factions present within them, it would be quite unwise for him to influence the case in such a manner. That influence would not be accepted by all."
"What if Yasihaut makes them an offer they can't refuse, or tries to make it look like Kashaunta did to get me in trouble?"
"I have taken steps to prevent that second outcome," Kashaunta said. "As for the first, my spies within Yasihaut's groups will alert me of it, and Justicar will know."
"But if he is a High Judge, wouldn't that be a conflict of interest?"
"His institutions function properly even without his intervention," Kashaunta replied. "There is little risk of that on his part."
"Hmm. Kashaunta, should I hide the Pact of Blades until the trial?"
"Yes. Its shock value will be maximum at that point."
"Elder Pundacrawla, are the rules on decorum the same as before?"
"Yes, but this time there will be proper enforcement. With the galaxy's eyes on him, Justicar will have no choice but to be firm in this trial. He will not be lenient to either of you, and might punish you more for infractions given that you are not a Sprilnav. It is unfair, but it is in his best interest to please the Elders who will be viewing this trial."
"Kashaunta, is there a way I can help you with the politics around this trial?" Penny asked. "I know if the event is this big, there is a lot for you to do, either to gain or to lose."
"A thoughtful offer. I might require one more linear singularity, and to finally get a piece of that negative energy you promised me. If you could tune your rhetoric toward peace with the Elders, it would help my position massively. The Alliance has already started scrubbing anti-Sprilnav rhetoric from its networks after I discussed the damage they could do, so what remains is your opinions. After the Judgment, more eyes will be on you than before. Declare your continued anti-slavery position, and I will have an easier time helping you with less damage to my reputation due to the revealed Pact of Blades."
"Do you also have an entourage of Elders to back you through thick and thin?" Penny asked. Pundacrawla smiled, glad that she was concerned about helping Elder Kashaunta.
She didn't know it, but now Pundacrawla was fully resolved to help her case. He'd been properly convinced that she really did care for her friends. In this case, while she likely was conflicted about it, Kashaunta was her friend. Given the Pact of Blades was in place between them, they were lifelong friends, close enough to be effectively married.
The political meaning of the Pact was certainly closer to that side of it since its most common use was to unify powerful Elder families. Kashaunta didn't have a family name, but that was because her name already carried so much weight everyone knew who was related to her. Pundacrawla gave Kashaunta a list of additional actions Phoebe needed to take using his implant. Kashaunta's eyes sparkled with recognition, though Penny didn't seem to notice.
"I do," Kashaunta said. "They all work for me. Most of them I acquired through either mud diving or through owed favors, though."
"Mud diving?" Penny asked.
"It is a term for doing one's utmost to please a superior for personal benefit, even if the 'please' section is derived from an unfortunate root meaning."
"I see. Elder Pundacrawla, can you get me something I can use for personal communication to you and Kashaunta, like an implant but less invasive?"
"Yes, I can do that," he responded.
"And also, one more thing before we go. Displace."
Penny appeared right in front of him, crouching down so her eyes aligned perfectly with his. They crackled with psychic energy, but beneath them lay a guarded desperation that he recognized from many of his more unfortunate past clients.
"I will not threaten you right now. But I need you to understand what is at stake for me. My friends. My family. My species. My nation. Over 200 billion living, breathing souls with lives and dreams they struggle every day to inch closer to. My titles, Champion of Humanity and Liberator, do not describe what I am but who I am. My world, my people. My home. Everything I have ever known and everything I have ever loved is at stake. Maybe you know what that is like. Maybe you don't.
Either way, please, I beg you to do your best to save us. I'm relying on you to be my hero, Pundacrawla. You can do this, and you must, or I will die for nothing. You will live with the consequences of this Judgment for the rest of your life. I hope you are everything Kashaunta claims you to be and more.
Hundreds of billions of people are counting on you. Look me in the eyes, Pundacrawla. Take in my alien face and my alien features. Know the creature standing here, and tell her you will do everything you can to save her and her people. And if it comes down to choosing to save me or the Alliance, save the Alliance."
Pundacrawla let out a breath. The hot air flowed across Penny's face, moving alien hair strands to the side. He looked into her eyes, peering into the reflection of three beings inside of her.
"Penny Balica. Champion of Humanity. Liberator. Human. I, Pundacrawla, High Lawyer, Elder, and Sprilnav, promise you, with all of my heart, all of my mind, and all of my soul, that I will do my best to win this Judgment for you and your kin. My actions will speak even louder than my words to you."

Hello! Delete if this has been asked. I looked but couldn’t find exactly what I’m looking for.
I have a singer 360 and plan on making full bed sized intarsia tapestries soon. I was going to just make chart with the many free generators online but then remembered there are programs specifically designed for machine knitters.
I know they all cater to brothers cable wise but does anyone have any experience using img2track, AYAB, and DAK for non brother machines? I love my 360 and I love that it is not electric (dark age I know).

https://preview.redd.it/roi0iqcjwh1d1.jpg?width=3024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=cad0a47bf76f181b1d1eb7d19bd0d59244bb4d84
My buddy was in Japan and was willing to pick these up for me at a local sports store. WOW, I've heard good things but these boots really are something else when on feet. At first try, there was tightness around the top of my left foot but it soon dissipated when I got to playing. The leather is so soft yet still provides an incredible barefoot like touch. Fit was amazing and it's crazy to think that with continued wears, it'll only improve.
When choosing a size, I was very nervous. I scoured as many threads and websites regarding staying true to size, sizing down, etc. What I ended up doing was simply measuring my foot and going off the sizing chart. For reference, I wore US10.5 in vapor 15s however my feet measured 278mm. Based on the chart I went with 10US and the fit and length is perfect for the fit I prefer. Measuring the insole, it is about 283mm.
Overall, incredible boot. Looking forward to the future wears and sessions as I'm sure the leather will only soften up even more and mold perfectly to my foot. If you or a buddy is going to Japan, try and see if they/you can pick them up. Doing so let me pick these up for about $170 compared to the $290 they normally retail for here in the states.

Race information

• What? RBC Brooklyn Half
• When? May 18, 2024
• How far? 13.1 miles
• Where? New York, NY
• Website: https://www.nyrr.org/races/2024rbcbrooklynhalf
• Finish time: 1:40:XX

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	Sub 1:38	No
B	Sub 1:40	No
C	As far sub 2:00 as possible	Yes
D	Run really fast	Yes

Background

I was an athlete, but never a runner. Growing up I played baseball and soccer, then lacrosse and football. Running was something done in laps, and it was a punishment. I went on one run as a teenager, but it was with a girl I thought was cute, and I could barely keep up with her. Then, at 17, I tore my ACL. At 18 I had two surgeries for post-op infections from the ACL surgery. At 19, another surgery to remove one of the original screws from the ACL. At 20, I tore my meniscus and had a partial meniscectomy.
A few years later, I started running a little. Nothing regular, or structured. Then I made friends with a triathlete and was inspired to sign up for some races. I hated the swim, liked the bike, tolerated the run. I don’t think I ever ran more than 6.2 miles for the entirety of my 20s.
By 30, I couldn’t run. Osteoarthritis had kicked in hard and athletic stuff was too painful to enjoy. By 32 I was talking to orthopedic surgeons about a knee replacement. Injections didn’t work, and PT was prehab. Daily life was too much. I couldn’t sleep through the night, I was icing my knee at my desk during the day, stairs were a thing to be avoided if possible and navigated carefully if required - the whole bit. Keeping up with two toddlers was impossible.
A medium-sized miracle happened. I was accepted into a clinical trial, the “Atlas Study” for a new surgically implanted device that offloaded the medial side of the knee. I was nearly the last of 50 patients in this study - and definitely one of the youngest. Atlas was successful, and another trial followed, and then FDA approval just before the six years anniversary of my surgery. The device is now known as the MISHA Knee System.

Training

I ran somewhat irregularly, 8-10 miles in a good week, post-COVID. We got a treadmill in 2020 because my wife used to go the gym solely to run. So I made use of it, and never ran outside, 2020-April 2024.
I got it in my head to run a half marathon around the holidays. I was feeling good, and wanted a new goal. I started climbing again in September 2023, and wanted another, complementary challenge - something more concrete. I started my training the second week of January. I had no idea what I was doing. I just hoped I could train successfully, and without triggering knee pain.
I looked at the Hal Higdon Novice 1, and tweaked to my purposes - 3 days a week of running, three days of climbing, and some kickboxing classes thrown in for good measure. Plus a two week ski trip at serious altitude in late March - I’ll come back to this. So: Monday and Wednesdays were shorter runs, Saturdays were long runs. Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday were climbing days at my local gym. Plus a goal of a weekday kickboxing class and a weekend kickboxing class, which meant some days were a double. It was a big jump in training volume.
Monday and Wednesday runs started out at 3 miles and built up in half mile increments to 5, according to Hal’s plan. Dearest Hal says next to nothing about pace, so like an enthusiastic but naive child I just ran as close to my goal pace as possible, over the distance specified, hoping to get the treadmill to an average of 6.6. I basically negative split my runs at threshold out of the gates. And Saturday runs? The same thing. Trying to get to 6.6 on that treadmill. From no consistent base.
Then at the end of January I tore my TFCC - plus two other ligaments in my wrist. No climbing for 8 weeks, no kickboxing for at least that long. Cross training plans are out for a while.
Nothing but running to keep me sane, for a bit. Stuck with three days a week. I skipped racing the 5k and 10k in the plan and just advanced the long run to the next mile. But that ski trip hit, right after I ran 10 miles for the first time. Two weeks with a ton of cross training, and almost zero running - I tried one run, but at ~9000 feet instead of home at ~20, I died after about 2 miles.
Post trip, I had six weeks to race day. Climbing was back in as cross training. Shorter runs were all 5 miles, Saturday runs were 9, 10, 13.1, 10, 3, race day. I started reading Reddit voraciously and my TikTok feed started giving me running coaches and I discovered this wild idea called “zone 2 running” - wow was it easier! So weird. For the first time I did some intervals, some threshold work, a 10 mile progression run, and actual easy runs. It was in early April when I realized my original goal - break 2 hours - was the wrong time altogether. That 13.1 mile run was my second run off a treadmill. I had downloaded Strava but didn’t know it could tell me my times in my headphones. I just went out for an 11 mile run, felt good, extended it, and found out afterwards that I ran a 1:42:XX. I was shocked, my treadmill pace had never been that fast. And I was trying hard, but maybe not as hard as possible. I set new goals.
The next weekend I did a 10 mile progression run outside, with Strava telling me times. I had basically no time to learn what different paces felt like, so I negative split 10 miles and tried to remember what felt good, and what felt like too much.
Before you know it, it was time to taper. Another new experience for me. One climbing session, no kickboxing, 3 mile runs.

Race Day

I drove myself nuts trying to decide whether to run in my assigned corral, 1L, or drop back to 2A. Passing thousands of people or open roads? I’ll never know if I made the right call.
Slept horribly. Maybe 3.5 hours. Multiple wakeups and I was up for good at 4:10. I tried to use everything I learned about nutrition in the days leading up to the race - I was so hydrated, and had so. many. carbs. I had a very upset stomach on race morning and went light with food, had some Imodium, and focused on trying to follow the routine I laid out.
Commute was fine, getting checked in was fine, adrenaline was starting to kick in. Positioned myself at the front of L, and suddenly realized how many people were out there. It felt like forever to start moving, and then the slow walk… and around the corner, which I didn’t expect, and I started Strava early. And we’re off!
Within a minute it’s obvious that I am not going to be able to set my own pace against the prevailing tide of humanity. Maybe half a mile in I see a few people using the sidewalk on the right - nah, I think, then about 15 seconds later I’m blocked ahead and to my left and so say fuck it and go. Good decision.
My focus on the first 5k was not to go out too fast, but not to get bogged down in traffic. 7:58 mile average per NYRR. Mission accomplished.
My focus in the second 5k was to control the hills, but not burn out. And not create a big time deficit. And not get bogged down in traffic. 8:00 per mile average. Mission very accomplished.
10-15k, I wanted to open it up a bit. Not full throttle, I was worried about leaving something in the tank. And not getting bogged down in traffic. It was spacing out a bit more, but I was still running on the left side for clearer roads most of the time, and working right to get to the water stations. 7:27 average. Mission accomplished, and feeling good
Now we’re between mile 9 and 10. I take my third gel just before the aid station, and start to think about how fast I can go. Mile 10 of that progression run in training was 6:47. That’s the goal now. In retrospect - it was also with a vest, uncrowded Central Park roads, no slowing for aid stations. Repeat after me: you should not be upset with actual results. Mile 11-12 sucked. It was probably the only time I didn’t negative split. But: 15k to 20k - 7:21
Home stretch - I did not pay enough attention to the map; to Reddit, to NYRR’s descriptions. The big right on Surf Road? A surprise. Started my kick. The ramp to the Boardwalk? I guess it was new, but man did it feel terrible. Second attempt at a kick. Do not get bogged down. Smile! We’re through. 7:02 pace.

Post-race

Would I have run faster in Wave 2? We’ll never know, and hopefully never find out. Passing thousands of people because I guessed wrong about my time was weird. I used a lot of energy and ran a fair bit of extra distance because of it. 17 seconds to beat 1:40? Maybe. Or maybe I needed to pass people for motivation.
But more than anything, as I reflect, I am grateful. I’m grateful to be able to run at all, because I know what it’s like to struggle to walk.I am grateful for my doctor that referrred me to the study, to my surgeon, Dr Andreas Gomoll, to all the people behind the MISHA device. I’m grateful to Abby Bales, my PT for prehab and rehab from surgery, and everyone who has been a part of my crazy orthopedic history.
I caught the running bug. I’ll be back. Sub 1:35 feels like the next step. I’ve only just begun, and I achieved my biggest goal - run happy. I have the race photos to prove it.
This post was generated using the new race-reportr, powered by coachview, for making organized, easy-to-read, and beautiful race reports.

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Mike marveled at the beauty of the inner city. He was familiar with Kael architecture and had even seen some up close at the university, but it was far grander here than on Earth, and it was far grander in person than in the videos and pictures he'd seen. The buildings were a hybrid of Gothic and expressionist architecture built with classical aesthetics.
Mosaics, statues, and murals were everywhere, but despite the grand buildings and beautiful decorations, Mike couldn’t keep his eyes off the ground. Even the streets are beautiful.
The ground he and Dreki walked was like a freshly cooled lava flow paved by slates of colored glass that softly glowed in the dimming light of the evening sun.
As they walked, Mike was woken from his trance by the scent of meat cooking.
Dreki smiled and said, “Smells good. You hungry?”
Mike nodded.
Dreki grinned and led Mike around the corner to a food cart. Mike salivated as the flames licked and sputtered at fat dripping from hunks of what looked like octopus turning on spits. The aroma of meat and spices was intoxicating. Dreki ordered them octopus skewers. As he handed Mike his skewer, Dreki said, “You’re never going to be able to eat earth octopus again.”
Mike chuckled. “I’ve never had it in the first place; I grew up in the mountains thousands of miles from the ocean.”
Dreki looked incredulous. “Did you not have rivers?”
Mike shrugged his shoulders, “Not with octopi.”
Dreki raised his free hand in exasperation. “Whatever. Either way, you’ll be disappointed by the rubbery trash humans call an octopus after eating this.”
Mike took a bite of the meat and groaned in pleasure. It tasted like a beefier version of bacon. Mike wolfed down his skewer in the blink of an eye and exclaimed, “That was fucking good!”
Dreki gave him a “Mhhhmh” with his still mouth full.
Dreki finished his food and led Mike off the main road onto a footpath flanked by wispy trees with dark blue leaves.
Eventually, the pair entered the back garden of a building that looked like a melted cathedral. Dreki led him through an open gate into a well-lit waiting room and held out his arm. “Hand me your bag; I’ll take it to your room. I’ll come get you after.”
Mike slipped his bag from his shoulders and handed it to Dreki. As the herculean Kael was leaving, he turned and said, “Try not to scream when they brand you; it’s an ill omen.”
Mike drummed his fingers on the armrests of the chair in the sea foam green waiting room, which was decorated with pictures of duels and exotic plants in white and blue ceramic pots. He was pretty sure that more than one of the photographs was of Dreki’s father.
Mike was anxious. Getting branded would suck, and getting an AR implant would involve someone sticking a drill through his skull. And without his gargantuan minder, Mike felt almost naked. He knew that he would probably be fine, but this was the home of the enemy. Without any weapons, he stood little chance against any Kael worth their salt in a fight.
Mike chided himself for the thought. Why does everything have to revolve around violence? Is there no world where you can just get along with them?
Mike frowned. No. I hate them. Despite his barely contained rage, Mike felt nauseous as blood-soaked memories bombarded his mind.
He doubted that he could kill again, even if it meant dying.
Dreki’s not so bad; maybe out here, more of them are like him than Ocidea.
Mike’s melancholy was interrupted when the tall door at the far end of the room opened. A short, for a Kaelman, nurse wearing pea green scrubs walked out, locked eyes with him, and shouted, “Mike Anderson!”
Mike followed the short Kael nurse into a cream-colored operating room. In the center an instrument table hovered next to an operating table. Besides the operating table stood a middle-aged Kael with tusks intricately inlaid with silver in triangular patterns. His white lab coat had Chief Surgeon Athocill emblazoned over the right breast pocket.
The Chief Surgeon stared off into space, engrossed in AR. The nurse who brought him in pointed to the operating table. Mike sat down.
A slender Kaelwoman in scrubs and a lab coat identifying her as the assistant surgeon walked in and started arranging the tools.
She glanced at Mike and said, “Take off your shirt.”
Mike pulled the black T-shirt he was wearing over his head and set it on the table next to him.
Without looking away from his work, the Chief Surgeon tossed Mike a leather strap and said, “Brand him.”
The short nurse pulled a heat stamp from its case and rolled the numbers to their correct positions. Mike put the leather strap in his mouth and grabbed onto the table.
Dreki’s warning rang through his head*.*
The Nurse carefully placed the print plate just below Mike’s collarbone and pushed it down. The heat stamp's coils flashed white. Mike bit down on the leather strap as hard as he could, and his knuckles popped as he gripped the edges of the operating table as hard as he could. Tendrils of smoke billowed off Mike’s chest as his flesh was seared, and the acrid smell of burnt hair and torched flesh wafted through the room.
Mike stifled a groan as the nurse peeled the superheated steel off his chest. The Nurse set the smoking stamp back in its case to cool and picked up a small jar of viscous blue fluid and a brush. The nurse opened the jar, dipped the brush in the blue goop, and painted it over Mike’s still-smoking burn. Mike jolted at the freezing touch of the brush. His ribs and abdomen rose and fell rapidly as he took short, shallow breaths as the freezing cold shocked his nervous system.
The nurse put the brush away and closed the jar. “Done”
Mike let the leather strap drop from his mouth and put on a straight face as he externally disguised the pain. Showing weakness was not an option, even if every fiber of his being commanded him to scream.
The assistant took hold of Mike’s arm and spoke. “Make a fist and squeeze.”
Mike did as she asked. It was a good distraction from the pain. His knuckles turned white, and the veins in his forearm bulged after a few seconds of pressure.
“You’ll feel a tiny pinch.”
The assistant jabbed the needle into the crook of his arm.
Mike’s head immediately felt heavy, and his whole body tingled. He tried to stay upright, to no avail. His vision grayed out as his head plopped onto the table with a thud.
The surgeon looked to his assistant and asked, “Is he out?”
“Yes.” She answered.
“Let us begin.”
The assistant used a small metal tool to pull Mike's right eyelid open. The chief surgeon plunged a gold needle into the depths of Mike’s right eye.
The surgeon carefully pulled the needle from the human’s eye and set the syringe back down on the floating instrument table.
“Targeting chip in place. Next stage.”
The nurse began rummaging around a drawer in the back of the room, and the chief surgeon plucked a gleaming silver drill from the instrument table.
The drill in the surgeon's hand whirred as he plunged it into Mike’s skull. After just a few seconds, the drill bored through Mike's skull. The surgeon pulled the drill out of the human's head and angled the bit down into a small metal dish that was in the extended arms of the assistant. The chief surgeon hit a button on the drill with his thumb.
A bloody, dime-sized piece of Mike’s skull dropped to the bottom of the metal dish with a clang.
He set the drill back down on the instrument table and held out his hand. “Drone.”
The nurse put an insect-like metal contraption that resembled a whip scorpion in the surgeon’s hand. The chief surgeon's eyes glazed as he entered his AR and took control of the drone. It popped out of his hand and burrowed itself into the hole in Mike's skull.
Inside his AR, he brought the drone to the occipital lobe of Mike’s brain.
“Deploying lattice.”
The arachnid-like drone injected small metal spikes with spools of minuscule wire attached—anchor points—into Mike’s brain. After just a minute's work, the surgeon had crafted a web of wires across Mike's brain. He brought the drone back to the center of Mike’s brain and planted one final anchor spike. A reel inside one of the claw-like appendages at the front of the drone spun, cinching the lattice of wires down to the last anchor point. The surgeon brought the drone around again, ensuring that the web of copper was completely taught against the human’s brain. He brought the drone back out and smiled ever so slightly as the blood and cerebrospinal fluid-soaked drone hopped back into his gloved hand.
Chief Surgeon Athocill smiled and jovially said, “Patch him up.” He was pleased with his performance today. This was the first human to get an advanced AR package, and the procedure went flawlessly. The assistant grabbed a quarter-sized piece of flesh-colored putty and carefully placed the small piece of skull onto it. She placed the putty over the hole in Mike’s head, and it took to life, bonding the fragment of bone back into place and sealing the surface wound.
The surgeon removed his gloves and began typing on a holoprojection. “All systems are operational. I’m linking him to the military network now.”
The assistant pulled the instrument table to her side and plucked a syringe filled with neon green fluid. She said, “I’m waking him up now,” as she plunged the needle into Mike’s arm.
Mike’s eyes flew open, and he grit his teeth against the pain. Tears seeped from his stinging and blood-filling right eye. Every heartbeat brought a jolt of crippling pain to his head. And worst of all was the searing pain from the brand on his chest and the aching cold that barely disguised it. Mike sat up with a grunt. Pain shot through his chest when he brought his hand to his head and felt the hardened disc of putty on his temple.
The surgeon addressed Mike with a soothing tone. “On the count of three, I’m going to activate your AR. It will feel like your head is on fire for a few seconds, but it will only last a few seconds. One… Two… Three!”
Mike nearly collapsed with the pain, but he managed to limit his response to a grunt. Light flashed before his eyes, and Kaelic text appeared in the center of his vision. The doctor asked, “What do you see.”
Mike answered, “AR active. And below that, it says setup wizard.” Despite his best efforts, pain was evident in his voice.
“Ok, Mike, I want you to think, ‘open setup wizard.’”
Mike blinked a few times. “Nothing happened.”
The surgeon said, “Think it in Kaelic.”
Mike’s brow furrowed in concentration. He was fluent in Kaelic, but not to the point where he could think in the language at will.
“Ok, I got it. It says setting menu at the top, and there are a ton of things here. Do you want me to read them off?”
“No. Can you scroll down?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You should be able to get the hang of this pretty quickly; it's very intuitive. You’ll see that there are a few HUD profiles that you can pick from. I’d recommend you start from profile two and then customize it as you see fit.”
Mike nodded as he selected profile two.
“OK, now think clear.”
Mike did as the surgeon asked. His vision was now cleared.
The surgeon smiled. “Feel free to fiddle with the settings, just think clear if it gets cluttered, and reset if you make a dog’s breakfast of it. You’ll have a headache for the next few days, and you may start having more vivid dreams, but other than that, you’ll barely notice the change. Just take it easy for the next few days, and don’t itch at your brand or your eye.”

Hello,
I'm thinking about buying an aeron or an embody but i'm not sure which aeron would fit or the embody would fit at all. I'm 189 cm (according to google that 6.2007874 ft) and 100kg (220.46 lbs) atm, but that would possible be lower by the time i get the chair. According to the aeron size chart i'm somewhere on the edge of size B and size C. As for embody, would it be suitable for my height?
Thanks for the answeres in advance.
Best regards

Hi all,
I've got some data gathered from two different loggers. One logs every 10 seconds, the other about every second, for about 30 hours. I'd like to compare the two of them, eventually on a chart.
How would I go about calculating a mean of x frequency on the more frequent data set, ie. so it takes a mean of the samples every 10/30/60 points? One of the many issues is that this set is relatively large (about 53k points), and excel is unhappy charting someting this size.
Assuming I can reduce the number of points to a manageable size, is it possible to put them both on a chart on the same x and y axis, even though the frequency is going to be different?
Any help appreciates, thanks

My name is Dr. Smith, not my real name of course, but for purposes of storytelling it will have to suffice. I have been practicing medicine at an Asian country as a general practitioner. I'm relatively new and I practice at a small village, not too far from civilization, half a day's travel by car and a few hours by boat from the country's capital, but very rural nonetheless, complete with superstitious beliefs and customs. I decided to stay here when I first graduated and passed the licensure exam for two reasons: first, I have a place to stay here, my family's ancestral home (although none of my direct relatives have lived there for years), said ancestors being one of the first people to settle in the area and second, because my family had always been the physicians in this small community as far as anyone remembers. Me, my grandfather and his father before him all went to the city to study medicine and went back here to practice it, like there was a pull, a calling, to sacrifice the convenient, fast-paced city life for the quiet and serene. My mother hated the idea, as clingy as she is to me, saying things like she wanted me to always be around where she could protect me, but you can't really help it when purpose calls. To be honest, it feels good providing a wide range of services to the honest people of our small, humble town, no greater feeling than helping the less privelaged, educating them and dispelling preconceived notions and old wives tales which are aplenty in my country, especially here.
I still recall how everything began. I made a makeshift clinic at one of the rooms of my ancestral home, it used to be my grandfather's office, but it felt old, antique, and perhaps too... professional, nothing wrong with that, but I wanted my patients to feel a more homely setting. So, I rearranged a bit, removed the imposing self portrait of my great-grandfather wearing his white coat that hang on the wall and transferred it to a more private area of the house. I changed the dim, barely functioning lights into brighter, more modern ones, removed the exceedingly extravagant chandelier and equipped the room with materials and equipment that I deemed necessary for my practice. I retained the wooden floors, but outfitted the walls with charts and more colorful decorations, in anticipation for the occasional pediatric patient. It was beginning to look less like an old abandoned house where teenagers went for the spooks and more like a place of healing and betterment, a clean place offering a clean mind...or so I hope.
"Your grandfather would have a heart attack if he wasn't dead already, seeing what you've done with his old clinic" quipped Martha, our housekeeper. All I know about Martha is that my grandfather hired her as a young teen and she has been here since then, she babysat and raised my mother as her own, and even took care of me as a toddler. Considering her age, she mostly supervises the younger and more capable help rather than doing tasks herself. None of them stay at the house, but they get called upon when me or any of my relatives were expected. Most of the family consider her as one of our own at this point.
"Well i'm sure great grandpa on the other hand enjoys the change of view" I replied jokingly. "Besides, I bet the patients would appreciate not being treated in such a dark, gloomy room."
"You know how your grandfather was..." she replies, that the idea of a dark, gloomy, old man liking dark, gloomy, old places was a no brainer. "...but everything aside, it is so nice to see you again, have you been feeling better? What did your mother think of you staying here?" she said with what I felt as outmost sincerity, "I used to chase and carry you around this estate and now look at you, about to carry out your family's legacy as a physician yourself" she continued, with a hint of pride from her tone.
I smiled. I myself couldn't think of a reason why a well respected man, revered even, by this town and it's people for everything he has done would act nonchalant and depressed, always with a jaded look in his eyes and stay in an equally dim and depressing part of his house, I've always known him to be like that, but was he always?
"I am better now. It's good to see you too, I'm glad you're staying healthy, and mom sure did not like it but well...she told me to say hi on her behalf" I told Martha. She beams up and smiles on my mother's mention.
"Well...I took the liberty of digging up your grandfather's documents, records and his patient charts, I doubt many of them still live but I thought maybe you'd like to have a look, I placed them around your desk but I can relocate them if you want me to"
"No, that's perfect. That's something I actually intended to do, i'll give it a read, thank you" I replied. I know some of those patients were either old or probably dead to be honest, but seeing data as well as the cases my grandfather had to deal with might help me in the future.
"The villagers already know Dr. Smith's grandson is here, they know you're a doctor, so expect to have a patient one of these days, perhaps as soon as you give the word that your clinic is open" Martha said, as she walks out of the room smiling and slightly waving, signalling a goodbye.
"I'm not even surprised" I think to myself. Places like these, words spreads like wildfire on topics like these, the idea of someone from a known family, coming back from the city, not to mention deciding to stay indefinitely, like the whole village needed notification, like the village demands explanation.
Hours passed and as I was satisfied with my new setup for the clinic, I took a break, sitting down and looking at the mountain of paperwork and folders placed on and around my desk. I picked one, thinking to myself that I might as well have a look now, with nothing else of note to do.
Patient #010438 Name redacted 43/Female
History of present illness: Patient had 3 day history of undocumented fever, dysuria, and bilateral flank pain Did not seek consult, no medications taken
Past Medical History Unremarkable
Personal and Social History Unremarkable
OB history illegible
Physical Examination BP 110/80 HR 102 RR 20
Nonhyperemic tonsils No murmurs Clear breath sounds Nontender abdomen (+) Kidney punch test
Noted a signature of the patient claiming she was not pregnant as a form of waiver
"Jesus grandpa, couldn't your history and physical exam get any lazier?" I thought to myself. Seeing pertinent history not asked and multiple organ systems ignored on physical examination. Given, some of the writing were already faded, the quality of the paper had deteriorated greatly, and plenty of details already illegible, all in all the documents weren't that bad. It sure doesn't help though that he writes like someone in the middle of a warzone practicing heiroglyphs.
I skimmed through more of the documents and patient files, most of the cases are relatively benign, majority are outpatient visits, some are emergency cases and there are the rare ones requiring transfer to a more developed town hours from here with better services and equipment. Time passed and as I lay down the last folder in a pile, I noticed a moderately sized box, probably the size of a briefcase, placed on the floor, dusty but obviously ornate. It piqued my interest although in my mind, I was pretty sure it was nothing but more documents, I decided to give it a look.
I picked a stack up and I started to read:
Patient #00512c Name redacted 32/Female
"Weird" I thought, it was numbered differently, and definitely none of the other documents were lettered. I continued reading:
History of present illness: This is a case of a 32 year old female who came in on date redacted due to a chief complaint of multiple hematomas, abrasions, burn wounds and lacerations on her face, trunk and extremeties..."
"Trauma? An accident? Possible abuse?" I contemplated.
"...patient allegedly noticed easy bruisability 2 weeks prior to consult, followed by alleged spontaneous appearance of abrasions and lacerations 2-3 days from onset of bruising, supposedly waking the patient at night due to the sudden sharp and searing pain, initially small cuts 3-5cm widest on her extremeties and face but eventually progressing to deep cuts measuring approximately 10-50cm on her back, chest, abdomen and lower extremeties. 1 week prior to consult, patient started noticing burning sensations on her skin, causing extreme pain and leaving reddish burn marks on her body, patient also experienced lack of appetite and inability to sleep due to loud voices and..."
"Spontaneous appearance? Easy bruising could be a lot of things, but for it to occur with 'spontaneous' abrasions and lacerations? Not to mention burn marks?" I thought out loud, having doubts about the credibility of the use of the word "spontaneous". Surely it was not an accident, considering it started 2 weeks ago with noted progression. "It could be a hematologic problem with the bruising, but that wouldn't explain the sudden appearance of cuts...maybe accompanied by a dermatologic one, the patient is prone to breaks in the skin? But then again the burn marks...the voices..." I analyzed. I was leaning towards abuse, where the cuts and bruises were inflicted by someone else and the abused, whether in some form of fear or coping, decides that it was "spontaneous" rather than inflicted, but why bother lying to yourself, perhaps the one who did it to her is a partner? Or a loved one? It made sense, someone progressively becoming more aggressive with her as time went by, becoming more and more extreme, from bruises to eventually burning.
It could a combination of illnesses to be honest, one on top of another, perhaps an overly sensitive or extremely dry skin that breaks and peels until it bleeds, an allergic reaction prompting the patient to unconciously scratch till her skin became red and lichenified, voices due to lack of sleep or a mental disorder. But looking at my grandfather's physical examination of her, none of the findings solidifies the possibility of those i've mentioned. Truth be told I also partially allowed myself to tunnel vision on the prospect of an abuse, to the point I've skipped some of the chart's contents that I deemed weren't important and tried to look for information to support my claim, or perhaps to disprove it, rookie mistake, but well, I am a rookie then.
"Patient is widowed, lives alone at a secluded area near redacted, only goes out to buy some necessities from redacted but has very minimal interaction from anyone in the village"
Okay then, either she is hiding the fact someone was with her, who is abusing her like I initially thought of, or it's self harm. "I'm pretty sure grandpa considered everything that went through my mind right now. Let me check his initial impression" I thought, with a tinge of annoyance, considering I felt that the patient lied to my grandfather, and was lying to me, decades after the fact.

1 Trauma, to consider physical abuse versus self harm;

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere" I said to myself, with a bit of pride having the same thought process as a physician with decades more experience than I do.

2 To consider mental disorder, probably psychotic - premature dementia

I chuckled. Premature dementia, didn't think i'd see that term, I thought everyone including those from his time would have used schizophrenia already, then again medicine and medical knowledge isn't as easily passed around as it is now. Psychiatry as a science would be relatively new during his time compared to other disciplines so the fact he considered it based on the patient hearing "voices"? Bravo gramps.
"Well...", I thought to myself, "...plenty of things to consider and rule out, let me check what else is there." A bit of cockiness on picking my grandfather's brain out and feeling good about my train of thought, a practice consult and so far, I'm on my way to a perfect score...

3. To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

.................
I gave the document a stern look, unmoving, unblinking, emotionless. Time has stopped, and I haven't noticed. My brain trying to digest the information, the same way my stomach would probably digest a block of steel...it's just not possible. I read one of my grandfather's diagnosis again:

3 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

I never been one for faith. Evidence is everything. Science is everything. You can replicate it, you can prove it. Most importantly...It. Makes. Sense. I look at beliefs not based on evidence and feel nothing but skepticism if not disdain. Why won't people listen to expert opinion? Why won't people believe in facts? Why explain the unknown in such convoluted ways, requiring submission of oneself when the only thing the truth requires is but comprehension. I looked at that diagnosis feeling disappointment.
Then I felt anger. "Grandpa, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" I thought to myself. Here is a woman, full of bruises, cuts and burns all over her body, claiming that she has been suffering for weeks, barely eats or sleeps, was having auditory hallucinations, in dire need of medical, if not emotional and psychological support and one of the things that comes across your mind is possession.
I tried to calm my mind, these are records of the past anyway, I thought. Maybe it was a resignation born out of incompetence. Maybe grandpa wasn't as good of a doctor as I thought he was, that the shortcomings of his knowledge and limited technology of his time prompted him to adopt a more...liberal viewpoint to medicine. Maybe he was just superstitious himself. Maybe the people of this place had leaked some of their local beliefs into his psyche. Maybe isolation changed the man. Or maybe...just maybe...there's something to it.
I've never been one for faith. That goes for my faith in science as well. To just say that something is stupid because it doesn't align with standard, accepted scientific belief is just as detrimental as its counterpart.
I decided to investigate further when I heard the entrance to the room open with force. One of the maids leaning onto the wall by the entrance, still grasping the doorknob and evidently out of breath.
"Sir...ma'am Martha...calling...for you...says...it's...it's...an emergency..." She says in between breaths.
I quickly stood up, feeling sorry for the woman, she just ran, obviously gasping for air as she arrived at the clinic and now has to lead me back to wherever she came from with the same urgency. At first I was worried something might have happened with Martha, what the maid said didn't really give much clarity, but upon arriving at the main hall I noticed Martha, standing beside a middle aged man and woman, carrying a child, no more than 10 years old. I notice the clear panic and worry on both of their eyes as the man held the boy, who was uncontrollably shaking.
"I know you're not taking any patients yet and I was considering the time, but nobody knows what to do so I..." Martha explains, quite concerned while I ordered the parents to put the child flat on the ground, with me assessing the situation. The first thing I noticed was that the child was burning hot, "possibly febrile seizure? No, too old" I thought. I asked both the parents important details while I ordered the other maid to time the duration of the child's seizure. All the while thinking of possible diseases that may present as such, "Seizure disorder? Epilepsy? Meningitis? Encephalitis?" Eventually the shaking stopped, much to the parents' relief, and I ordered them to carry the boy as we made our way back to the clinic.
"Was this the first time it ever happened?" I inquired, as I put the child on one of the beds in the clinic, securing the corners with additional pillows, noticing the sunken face and apparent exhaustion from the boy, possibly due to the ongoing fever and the recent seizure episode. Once secured, I face the parents and continued my inquiries, I eventually explained everything, elaborating on what I believe happened, I explained that for now, lowering the fever and investigating the source were what we could address, the battery of tests I plan to do (disappointingly, most of them cannot be done here, and I would have to accompany them to a hospital on another town as soon as first light breaks), and the medications and management I plan to give. Everything proceeded as planned and I asked both parents to relax and take a breather, offering them a seat and asking the help to give them water.
Things eventually settled, little Johnny's fever subsided and color came back to him. Nowhere near clear, he can worsen anytime, but that was the best that we could do at that time. The parents were still worried, understandably so, but to an extent reassured, we have a plan after all. Martha, as well as Diane (the help from earlier), now at a calmer state. We discussed the plan, how we would travel, who would accompany us and what we would bring. Eventually, our conversations became relaxed, started to shift to other things, trivial matters, such as were they lived in the village, the date and time of my arrival, recent gossip, where Martha was more than happy to share.
"I was worried the evil spirits might have gotten my baby..." Said the mother nonchalantly, as we talked about the occurrence on a lighter note. "...that's how they got Mrs. Johnson's middle child. That poor boy was never the same after."
I smiled. Not wanting to immediately correct them and sound like an uptight individual. It's part of our culture afterall, old belief systems and a way for people to cope with loss or difficulty, who was I to deny them that. I won't approach these people the hardheaded way, but I will slowly show them the realities and truths of the things they may not understand, well, at least with regards to their health.
"Well, little Johnny is safe here, we'll do what we can" pointing to their son.
Only, their son wasn't where he was supposed to be. I look at the parents, I look at both Martha and Diane, everyone who looked at where I pointed were just as shocked as I was, a split second of silence before panic ensued. Suddenly, everyone stood up on high alert and was looking everywhere. Under covers, under the bed, corners of the room, the desk, behind curtains, hell, I saw Diane look at one of the damn drawers, as if a 10 year old would fit there.
Suddenly I heard loud vomiting, retching, followed by sounds of splashing. I follow where the sounds came from and see a large pool of black, tarry liquid at a corner of my room. I slowly trace where it was coming from and there he was...little Johnny...standing...upside down...on the ceiling.
I hear everyone in the room scream, I was probably screaming too, I couldn't remember. I do remember little Johnny screaming with us though, extremely high pitched and mockingly, with bloodshot eyes, upside down, while black liquid poured from his mouth, covering his face and dripping from his hair. How was that even possible, screaming while liters of unknown fluid dripped from his mouth? I don't know.
Then he laughed, although I was pretty sure that wasn't his voice. It was deep and guttural, it cannot be the boy's voice, it cannot be any boy's voice.
Time seemed to move in slow motion, I was noticing every detail, every expression from everyone's face, I can feel the seconds hand on my wall clock move, the slow dripping of the viscous dark liquid from little Johnny, I can feel every drop of sweat on my body. I could not cope with what i'm experiencing, was it a trick of the mind, an organized prank, have I gone mad...again? So I did the only thing I know how to do...
I tried to diagnose.
"Maybe it was dengue shock all along!" I thought to myself. "Vomiting blood, paleness, fever, an episode of seizure and definitely change in sensorium" I reasoned to myself. I was coping, and I was coping hard. I was ready to drown on my self absorbtion when a booming voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"YOU DUMB FUCK, WILL ANY ILLNESS EXPLAIN WHY YOUR FUCKING PATIENT IS HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON THE FUCKING CEILING?" Said little Johnny, or at least whoever was speaking on his behalf, because from where I'm standing, I can clearly see that the boy was not mouthing any of the words he said.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING FAILURE, DOCTORS LIKE YOU SHOULD KILL THEMSELVES! HAHAHAHA" he laughed, I never knew laughs could sound like that, as if the words were nails, and his voice box a chalkboard.
"OH WAIT, YOU FAILED AT THAT TOO DOC! FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Of all the things that were happening...a young boy hanging upside down, a mother crying on the floor hysterically, a father staring at his son, eyes wide open and mouth agape, Martha and Diane, both crying while sharing a rosary, in the act of what I assume to be prayer...the thing that snapped me out of my trance was the words that came from little Johnny. Knowledge nobody but the closest to me should know. A secret I planned to leave behind when I left the city, a wound I intended to forget as I started anew.
Visions of my memories came flashing back...medical school...overwhelming duty...familial expectations...failure...depression...my attempt...a bottle of medications...my mother...crying...on my bedside...
"LEAVE MY SON ALONE!" Johnny's father screamed. Starling everyone in the room.
Nothing matters, the past is in the past, I am better now, and that boy needs help, more than anything.
"YOUR SON? WHY DON'T WE ASK THAT CRYING WHORE IF JOHNNY REALLY IS YOUR SON" The voice says, laughing.
At that point the mother stops crying, looks up towards johnny, then towards his husband, in a state of shock. Like what the voice said is crazier than whatever was happening at the moment.
"THE ONLY REASON THAT WHORE STUCK WITH YOU WAS BECAUSE JOHNNY'S REAAAAAAAL FATHER WOULD NOT TAKE HER!" The entity says, continuing the hysteric laughter.
We were being played. It was toying with us. And from the look on the mother's face...it seems like little Johnny did not even need to lie to do it.
Then, to everyone's horror..."It" started to run.
It ran across the ceiling in a rabid frenzy, erratic and forceful, running and jumping, hopping sideways then going on all fours, still attached to the ceiling, splashing bile and blood all over the room, all the while making a "hihihi" sound...childish and terrifying. It ran and ran, repeating the same erratic change in movements, repeating the same eerie giggle until it reached the window, stopping and standing straight, it stared outside for what felt like forever...then all of a sudden...johnny just fell, like whatever was attaching him to the ceiling just gave, headfirst into the floor, giving a very audible cracking sound.
I heard a gasp from johnny's mother. I can at least detect some miniscule chest expansion, but that cracking sound cannot be anything good. As if thinking the same thing, Martha, who was the nearest to where Johnny fell, while still clinging tightly to Diane's rosary, approached the boy.
"Johnny?" She said softly, all the while approaching an inch at a time.
As she was almost at arms length of the boy's body, she gives the mother a knowing look, confirming that he was breathing. Martha suddenly produces a piece of cloth from one of the pockets of her uniform, possibly to pack the bleeding from the head. She intended to put the cloth on top of the boy's head, but looked towards my direction, urging me forward, perhaps for me to place it properly. I walk towards the boy, takes the cloth from Martha and as I fold the cloth to circle Johnny's cranium with Martha's help, the boy immediately sat up, looks at Martha and smiles ear to ear...literally ear to ear.
"GET YOUR WRINKLY HANDS OFF ME YOU DUSTY OLD FUCK!" He barks at her, Martha screams in fear and I was taken aback.
That was all the time Johnny needed to stand and jump towards the window, breaking it and running towards the mountainside. I hear his father scream his name, quickly breaking more glass so he could fit, and immediately giving chase. The mother was still on the floor, wailing towards the direction of her child and husband. Martha, in shock, still holding the cloth she intended to wrap johnny with.
It took me a while to notice Diane shaking me vigorously. "Doctor!" She screams. "Doctor Smith! What should we do!?" She voices out, with obvious desperation.
I ignored her.
I feel scared, but taking all into consideration, I predominantly feel tired. Defeated. Insulted.
I have nothing more to give in the face of whatever that thing that took Johnny was.
I slowly walk towards my desk, I open my drawer, I take a piece of paper and I pull out my pen.
Patient #00001a Name redacted 10/M
I write, giving no thoughts to the people on the same room as me, those left behind by little Johnny and his father. "Did he catch up to him? Was the boy alright now?...is his father alright?" I wonder. I'll find out soon enough, I figured, rumors spread like wildfire around here anyways.
I continued to write with resignment, absorbed in my own little world, consumed by the horror I witnessed, the breaking of my spirit, of my beliefs, the questioning of my knowledge. I want to escape it, deny it, but that's not what should be done to the truth. So I surrendered.

1 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

END

I'm kind of in a rush so this might be a bit jumbled. Hopefully it makes sense and you can add in stuff I might have left out.
I feel like Alexandra Rodriguez (formerly known as "Learning To Be Fearless") has the personality & lifestyle of Kim and the body stature of Michelle (+body insecurity vendetta between both).
Alex is of a very close age (turning 32 near the end of this year) and I noticed that she is married and currently pregnant (something Kim is trying to clickbait a lot despite telling us off for asking her). She also splurges on tons of useless crap and does try-ons. She dresses in really tight clothes too, thinking it will somehow make her body look smaller when in reality, it just shows how fat she really is, and thinks that the clothes that don't suffocate her are apparently very "loose-fitting" or "big" on her. I think there was a time where she kept saying she was a size 16-18 when she was probably close to a size 30... (I don't think Kim and Michelle wear clothing that small/tight on them so at least they're not as delusional as her).
Alex is also known to be disingenuous and a lying hypocrite who photoshops herself to look less fatter but encouraging those around to be as big as her with her Health At Every Size mentality despite undergoing several surgeries to make herself look "smaller" including double chin removal, fupa removal and 2 or 3 gastric sleeves/etc. (the surgery that lets you lose at least 100lbs at first but if you don't put the effort in, you gain most of it back within a year or two which she did to the surprise of nobody). Of course, Alex being Alex still thinks she kept the weight off...
She recently went on a rant last month, preaching about how BMI is bullsht and stupidly says that she weighs more because she's got so much muscle because she's been going to the gym since she was 12(?!!) or some dumb delusional crap. (Doesn't explain why her body is wider than a fridge though...)
Kim who was praising Carlos' weight loss also went on a rant about BMI being BS too, when Carlos told Kim he wanted to get down to a weight where it's healthy as specified on the BMI chart. I bet Kim was triggered because his goal weight (180lbs I think) was very close to her current weight... Also Carlos said his waist was now around 36", close to Kim's 35" which I'm sure is not her actual waist size (if she did measure it, she probably sucked her breath in to make herself seem smaller).
Michelle is also known to hold grudges against people who comment on her body even out of concern like her relatives and doctors (despite her looking like a cross between Alex and early Chantal (Foodie Beauty)). She probably weighs less than them but still looks as fat or has the potential to be as big as them if she continues to gain. Though so far, she seems to be maintaining her weight. I don't really know...
I don't watch Alex much, but from what I've seen and read, she used to have a few close friends but seems to not be close to them anymore because she's jealous of them? I heard one of her close friends lost a bunch of weight so that makes sense. Sounds very similar to someone we know who would end their friendship over them wanting to improve their health...
That's all I can think of at the top of my head for now. Please tell me your thoughts, whether you agree or disagree (and correct any mistakes I made) or bring up anyone else who you think Michelle and Kim resemble. Would love to see photo comparisons too!

My dog has severe elbow displacia/ bilateral OA in both front legs (1 side is worse than the other).
The option they would recommend is to do CUE surgery, however due to my dogs small size (10kgs now but should be around 9kg) the surgery can’t be done as they don’t make implants small enough. He’s also too small for arthroscopy. They have ruled out any other surgical option so I’m left with pain meds and Physio until the joint completely goes and he can’t walk.
Is this really the case? Is there no one making a smaller implant for this type of surgery?

rG Affinity is recruiting both new and veteran players! If you are looking for a community to trade, explore, learn and grow with... come fight with us! We are an age 17+ gaming community. We accept members from all platforms as long you can use discord for text and voice communication.
At Affinity Battalion in rG (Rapture Gaming), we have a mix of legendary rank players and players just learning the game and a bunch in between. Our community’s discord also has battalions for many other games too (destiny, cod, apex, overwatch, and many more) with hundreds of other members! The Warframe clan specifically is small to medium size (currently about 50-60 players) with a rank 11 storm dojo that has all research done! You just have to join a voice chat with a leader once and then you have unlimited access to all dojo blueprints!
We host dedicated game nights for our members to group up, explore the Sol System, make a fortune and grind those Mastery Ranks. Our veteran players are available to assist you with Star Chart, Void Fissures, Eidolon Captures, Archon Hunts, Steel Path, Duviri, and advice on Warframe builds for whatever actions you have in mind. On top of that we have an active discord server for help, builds, or general advice. We also host fashion frame competitions with plat and prime set prizes!
Our members are primarily based out of North America, Europe, and Oceania so you can usually find other members on during a wide range of times!
Note: We are an active and social community. If you don’t plan to play at least once every 14 days and engage in chats on occasion with other members of the community on the discord, then this may not be the best fit for you. If you ever do get removed for inactivity, you’re always welcome to rejoin when you’re playing again!
Feel free to DM for more information, or if you think you’re ready, follow the discord link and instructions below.
https://discord.gg/rapturegaming
In battalion-request channel, just choose Affinity and fill out the requested info and one of our admins will process you and you’ll be good to go!

Hi everyone, very sadly after a long day of work I came home to my peppermint shrimp eating my cleaner shrimp exactly a week after getting him. Everything was well for the first week so this is a surprise to me. I just don’t know what went wrong. Right now it’s a 20 gallon stocked with 2 clownfish, one watchmen goby, one peppermint shrimp and a basic CUC. I originally planned to only have a cleaner shrimp but was having an aptasia problem so ended up getting a peppermint shrimp to take care of it, which he did. Before buying the peppermint shrimp I asked the store owner if they would be fine together he said he doesn’t see a problem with it. My salinity is a bit low right now, at about a 1.022. Tested using my api saltwater test kit, high range pH: 7.8 Nitrate: 5.0, Nitrite 0.0, Ammonia 0.0. Could this be a salinity or tank size problem? Keep in mind I am a newbie (about 2-3 months in the hobby) so this is very upsetting to me. Let me know your thoughts.

Would you have a concluding word to such world's setting?

Absolutely! Here are a few closing word options for your high-tech, low-life world, depending on the tone you want to achieve:
Hopeful:

In the flickering neon glow of the lower districts, a spark of rebellion ignites. Despite the hardships, the human spirit endures, seeking connection, hope, and a chance to build a better future.

Bittersweet:

The high towers of the elite cast long shadows over the bustling streets below. In this world of stark contrasts, the lines between survival and prosperity blur. But even in the darkest corners, love, ingenuity, and a flicker of defiance persist.

Grim:

The gears of progress grind on, leaving a trail of waste and despair. In this high-tech dystopia, the gap between the haves and have-nots grows ever wider. Will the lower districts rise up, or will they be forever locked in the underbelly of a world they can only glimpse from below?

Open-Ended:

Beneath the neon sky, stories unfold. Tales of hardship and hope, of rebellion and resilience. The future of this high-tech world hangs in the balance, waiting to be written by the choices of those who inhabit it.

Choose the closing word that best captures the essence of your story or setting. Remember, the world you've created is rich with possibilities, and the ending doesn't have to be definitive. It can leave your readers pondering the fate of its characters and the future of this complex and ever-evolving society.

If you should pick an item or an object that would clearly and cleverly symbolized such world, what would that be?

Here are two options for an item that symbolically represents the high-tech, low-life world:

1. The Glimmering Shard:

• Description: Imagine a small, jagged shard of metal or glass. One side is smooth and polished, reflecting the wealth and technology of the upper city. The other side is rough and chipped, etched with the grime and harsh realities of the lower districts.
• Symbolism: This shard represents the stark contrast between the upper and lower classes. The smooth side reflects the shiny veneer of technology and luxury enjoyed by the wealthy. The rough side reflects the brokenness and struggle of those living on the fringes.
• Additional Details: This shard could be a salvaged piece of technology, a remnant of a shattered building, or even a shard of a mirrored window that once divided the social classes.

1. The Glitching Holographic Ring:

• Description: Imagine a holographic ring that projects a constantly shifting image. On one hand, it might display a luxurious symbol of wealth and status. But as it flickers, the image might glitch and distort, revealing a hidden message or a glimpse of the harsh realities beneath the surface.
• Symbolism: This ring symbolizes the unreliability and instability of the world. The glitching hologram represents the way technology promises a utopian future but constantly fails to deliver. It also reflects the hidden messages of dissent and rebellion that exist beneath the surface of a seemingly controlled society.
• Additional Details: This ring could be a common fashion statement or a black-market tool used to spread forbidden information. The glitching image could be a coded message, a symbol of rebellion, or a reminder of the past that the upper class tries to suppress.

Both of these items are small, versatile, and can be interpreted in multiple ways, making them powerful symbols of the high-tech, low-life world. The choice ultimately depends on the specific tone and message you want to convey in your story.

Try something bit more distinct and specific.

How about the "Hacked Heart"?
Here's the breakdown:

• Description: A small, ornately decorated locket or pendant. Upon opening, it reveals not a picture, but a series of flickering LEDs embedded within a clear casing.
• Functionality: This locket is a bio-hacked implant worn externally. It interfaces with the wearer's nervous system, displaying a visual representation of their emotional state through the shifting colors and patterns of the LEDs.
• Symbolism: The Hacked Heart represents the constant clash between technology and humanity in this world. The ornate decoration speaks to a desire for beauty and connection, while the exposed circuitry highlights the invasive nature of technology and the commodification of even emotions.
• Distinction: This item is specific to this world because it combines high-tech bio-hacking with a sentimental object like a locket. It's a reminder that while technology can be used to manipulate and control, people still yearn for genuine emotional connection.
• Additional Details:
  • The Hacked Heart could be a status symbol among the wealthy, a way to display their emotional control or volatility.
  • In the lower districts, it might be a black-market modification, a way to express emotions freely or even manipulate others.
  • The LEDs could display a limited range of emotions, a commentary on how this world suppresses or simplifies human experience.

This Hacked Heart offers a unique and distinct symbol of the high-tech, low-life world. It captures the struggle for authenticity, the desire for connection, and the pervasive influence of technology in every aspect of life.

How about straight up hacksawed hearth?

The "hacksawed hearth" is a very evocative image, but on its own, it might be a little too literal. Here are a few ways we can build on this concept to create a more symbolic and distinct object for your high-tech, low-life world:

1. The Hacksawed Hearth Relic:

• Description: This is a piece of a broken fireplace grate, crudely hacksawed from a larger structure. It could be made of cast iron, bearing the ornate detailing of a once grand fireplace from the upper city.
• Symbolism: The hacksawed hearth represents the loss of a sense of community and warmth. It's a reminder of a bygone era where people gathered around fireplaces for warmth, comfort, and storytelling. In the high-tech world, these connections are fragmented, replaced by cold technology.
• Use: The relic could be a prized possession, passed down through generations in the lower districts. It might be used as a makeshift heating element, a symbol of resilience, or even a weapon in desperate situations.
• Additional Details: Engravings or markings on the relic could hint at the origin of the fireplace, perhaps a symbol of rebellion or a reminder of a specific historical event.

1. The Hacksawed Hearth Stove:

• Description: This is a makeshift stove cobbled together from scrap metal and scavenged parts. The centerpiece is a prominent, jagged piece of metal, clearly cut with a hacksaw, forming the base or firebox.
• Symbolism: The hacksawed hearth stove represents resourcefulness and defiance. It's a testament to the ingenuity of the lower classes, who repurpose the remnants of the upper world to survive and build a sense of home.
• Use: This stove provides heat and a place to cook for those in the lower districts. The exposed hacksaw mark could serve as a constant reminder of the struggle and the societal divide.
• Additional Details: The stove might be decorated with scavenged trinkets or symbols of rebellion, reflecting the personality of its creator.

1. The Hacksawed Hearth Hologram:

• Description: This is a portable holographic projector that displays a flickering image of a crackling fireplace. The image might be distorted or glitching, hinting at the artificiality of the technology.
• Symbolism: The hacksawed hearth hologram represents a yearning for a lost sense of comfort and togetherness. It's a reminder of something they can't fully possess, a ghost of a simpler life.
• Use: The hologram could be used for warmth (a psychological comfort), storytelling (creating a sense of community), or even bartering (a valuable commodity in the lower districts).
• Additional Details: The projector might be a salvaged piece of high-tech, repurposed by the lower classes. The flickering image could project not just fire, but also forgotten stories or historical events.

These are just a few ideas to build upon the "hacksawed hearth" concept. Each option creates a distinct symbol for your world, capturing the struggle, resourcefulness, and yearning for connection within a high-tech, low-life society.

Apologies, i meant hacksawed heart.

Ah, a "hacksawed heart" takes the concept a whole new level! Here are some potential interpretations for this unique symbol in your high-tech, low-life world:

1. The Literal Hacksawed Heart:

• Description: This is a gruesome yet intriguing object. Imagine a metallic heart-shaped locket, but instead of opening smoothly, it has a jagged, clearly "hacksawed" opening revealing a beating, pulsating red light within.
• Symbolism: It bluntly represents the harsh realities of this world. The exposed, almost violated heart symbolizes emotional vulnerability in a society that prioritizes survival and control.
• Use: This could be a black-market modification used by criminals to suppress or amplify emotions depending on their needs. It could also be a symbol of rebellion, worn by those who refuse to have their emotions controlled by technology.
• Additional Details: The exposed heart could change color or intensity depending on the wearer's emotional state. It could also be a painful reminder of past trauma or a forced emotional manipulation.

1. The Hacksawed Heart Pendant (Metaphorical):

• Description: This is a more subtle pendant, crafted from metal and shaped like a stylized heart. However, the heart shape is not solid, but rather consists of a series of interlocking gears or circuits.
• Symbolism: It represents the struggle between technology and human emotions. The gears represent the cold logic of technology, while the overall heart shape represents the desire for connection and love.
• Use: This could be a widely worn piece of jewelry, a reminder of the delicate balance between technology and humanity.
• Additional Details: The gears could turn or click subtly, representing the constant hum of technology in the background. The design could be simple yet elegant, appealing to people from all social classes.

1. The Hacksawed Heart Hologram:

• Description: This is a holographic projection of a broken heart, pulsating with a faint light. The cracks and breaks seem to have been repaired crudely, with rough stitches or patches.
• Symbolism: It represents the brokenness and resilience of the people in this world. The repaired heart shows their ability to mend emotional wounds and keep fighting despite hardships.
• Use: This could be a symbol used by resistance groups, a reminder that even though their hearts are broken by the system, they refuse to give up hope.
• Additional Details: The hologram could flicker and distort, highlighting the instability of the world and the struggle for emotional stability. It could also project messages of hope or defiance.

These are just a few interpretations of the "hacksawed heart" symbol. Each one offers a unique perspective on the world, highlighting different aspects of the struggle between technology and humanity, vulnerability and resilience, and the fight for emotional connection in a harsh environment.

And how about hacksawed earth?

The "hacksawed earth" is a powerful and evocative image for your high-tech, low-life world. Here are a few interpretations that capture different aspects of this society:

1. The Broken Globe:

• Description: Imagine a metallic globe, the size of a person's head. One side is smooth and polished, depicting a pristine Earth with lush continents and oceans. The other side is brutally "hacksawed" open, revealing a desolate wasteland beneath.
• Symbolism: This broken globe represents the stark contrast between the idealized world presented by technology and the harsh realities of the lower districts. The smooth side shows the world as it could be, while the hacksawed side shows the damage caused by progress and a focus on the elite.
• Use: This could be a symbol used by rebels or environmentalists, a reminder of the true cost of unchecked technological advancement. It could also be a prized artifact kept by scavengers, a testament to a lost world.
• Additional Details: The hacksawed side could reveal specific details like polluted oceans, ravaged landscapes, or scars representing ecological disasters.

1. The Cracked Terrain Model:

• Description: Imagine a detailed, three-dimensional model of the city and surrounding area. The model is crafted from metal and shows buildings, streets, and even the natural landscape. However, the model is cracked and broken in several places, revealing a dark, hollow space beneath.
• Symbolism: This cracked model represents the instability and fragility of the world. The surface world may appear organized, but it's built on a shaky foundation. The hollow space could represent the neglected lower districts or the potential for social upheaval.
• Use: This could be used by city planners to highlight potential areas of weakness or by rebels to show the vulnerability of the upper city. It could also be a symbol of the constant struggle between order and chaos.
• Additional Details: The cracks could be filled with glowing red lights, symbolizing the simmering anger and frustration of the lower classes.

1. The Fractured Hologram:

• Description: Imagine a holographic projection of the Earth that constantly fractures and reforms. It shows a beautiful planet struggling to maintain its integrity, with cracks appearing and disappearing over continents and oceans.
• Symbolism: This fractured hologram represents the constant environmental degradation and the fragility of the planet itself. It's a reminder that the consequences of unchecked technology and environmental damage will affect everyone, not just the lower districts.
• Use: This could be a warning displayed in public spaces, a constant reminder of the need for sustainability. It could also be used by rebels to spread awareness of the environmental cost of their society.
• Additional Details: The fractured Earth could pulse with a red glow, symbolizing the danger of inaction. The projection could also display messages or statistics about environmental threats.

These interpretations of the "hacksawed earth" symbol each offer a compelling way to visualize the societal and environmental consequences of the high-tech, low-life world. They highlight the impact on the environment, the fragility of the system, and the call for change.

What would be the very best thing in such world?

The "best thing" in a high-tech, low-life world depends on perspective and what holds the most value for different people. Here are a few contenders:
For the Struggling Masses:

• True Connection: In a world rife with social isolation and control, genuine connection with others – love, friendship, community – could be the most valuable thing. Sharing stories, offering support, and building a sense of belonging in the face of hardship could be a beacon of hope.
• Freedom from Oppression: The ability to escape the harsh realities of the lower districts, whether through rebellion, ingenuity, or a lucky break, could be considered the ultimate prize. Freedom could mean access to clean water, medical care, or a life free from fear and exploitation.
• Knowledge and Power: Unrestricted access to knowledge, either through scavenged books, hacked data, or forbidden information, could be a powerful tool for change. This knowledge could empower individuals to understand their world, resist control, or even find a path to a better future.

For the Elite:

• Absolute Security: In a world filled with danger and uncertainty, complete security could be a luxury only the wealthy could afford. It could involve advanced security systems, fortified enclaves, or even enhanced bodies that ensure their safety from threats in the lower districts.
• Unlimited Luxury: Unfettered access to the latest technology, exotic pleasures, and the ability to indulge in every whim could be the ultimate goal for some. However, such a luxurious life might feel hollow in a world so divided.
• Power and Control: Maintaining absolute control over society and ensuring their dominance could be the ultimate prize for some in the elite. This control could involve advanced technology, manipulation of information, or even a form of social engineering that keeps the lower districts docile.

A Different Perspective:

• A Spark of Change: Perhaps the most valuable thing wouldn't be a physical object or individual benefit, but the hope for a better future. It could be a growing sense of defiance, a technological breakthrough that could benefit everyone, or a leader who inspires change. Even in a harsh world, the potential for a brighter future could be the most valuable thing of all.

Ultimately, the best thing in this world depends on your story and the characters' values. What are they fighting for? What would make their lives better? By exploring these questions, you can create a compelling world where the "best thing" is a powerful motivator for your characters and a reflection of the themes you want to explore.

What would be the best possible symbol for high-tech-based dominance?

Here are a few options for a symbol of high-tech dominance in your world, each capturing a different aspect of technological control:

1. The Augmented Eye:

• Description: Imagine a stylized eye, perhaps metallic or with glowing circuitry. This symbol could be worn as a piece of jewelry, incorporated into clothing, or even projected as a hologram.
• Symbolism: The Augmented Eye represents the constant surveillance and monitoring of the population by the elite. It signifies the loss of privacy and the ability of the ruling class to see and control everything.
• Additional Details: The eye could have multiple pupils or flicker with different colors, representing the vast amount of data being collected and analyzed. It could also be embedded with a tiny camera, blurring the line between symbol and surveillance tool.

1. The Neural Network Spire:

• Description: A towering structure, resembling a branching network of wires or organic neural pathways, reaching towards the sky. This spire could be located in the heart of the elite district, a visible symbol of their technological prowess.
• Symbolism: The Neural Network Spire represents the vast computational power and interconnectedness of the elite's technology. It suggests their ability to access information, control communication, and manipulate minds.
• Additional Details: The spire could emit a faint hum or glow, hinting at the constant processing power it represents. Its intricate design could be both awe-inspiring and intimidating, reflecting the duality of technology.

1. The Glimmering Hand (Data Hand):

• Description: A stylized metallic hand, outstretched with its fingers spread wide. Each fingertip could have a different symbol or icon, representing different forms of data (statistics, surveillance footage, code).
• Symbolism: The Glimmering Hand represents the elite's ability to manipulate and control data. It signifies their power to shape information, influence perception, and control resources through technology.
• Additional Details: The hand could be made of a smooth, reflective metal, symbolizing the cold logic of data analysis. It could also emit faint streams of data or project holographic information, further emphasizing its control over information flow.

These symbols all offer a distinct way to represent the dominance of high-tech in your world. Consider the specific aspects of technology you want to highlight and the message you want to convey. These options provide a starting point to create a powerful symbol that embodies the oppressive yet awe-inspiring nature of technology in a high-tech, low-life society.

What would be the best set of symbols for resistance movements within such high-tech low-life settings?

In a high-tech, low-life world, symbols for a resistance movement need to be subtle, easily hidden, and adaptable to a world saturated with technology. Here are a few options that capture the spirit of rebellion in this unique setting:

1. The Flickering Flame:

• Description: A simple flickering flame, either a physical lighter or a stylized image. This could be a tattoo, a graffiti tag, or a hidden symbol incorporated into clothing or tools.
• Symbolism: The flickering flame represents hope and defiance against the cold, sterile control of the high-tech world. It symbolizes a yearning for a simpler life and the potential for change.
• Additional Details: The flame could be accompanied by a simple inscription or code that only members of the resistance understand. It could also be a specific color, like blue or orange, that signifies defiance.

1. The Glitching Gear:

• Description: A stylized gear symbol, but with a section that appears to glitch or malfunction. This could be displayed on a data pad, worn as a pendant, or even etched onto tools or scavenged materials.
• Symbolism: The glitching gear represents the disruption of the established order. It signifies the resistance's ability to exploit the flaws in the high-tech system and their fight for a more organic, less controlled society.
• Additional Details: The glitching portion of the gear could flicker or change colors, representing the unpredictable nature of the resistance and their ability to adapt to new situations.

1. The Broken Wing:

• Description: An image of a bird's wing, either broken or only partially formed. This could be a symbol of freedom yearning to be achieved, or the struggle of the resistance against the oppressive technological cage that confines them.
• Symbolism: The broken wing represents the desire for liberation and the belief that the people can rise above the control of the elite. It signifies the hope for a better future where freedom and autonomy are attainable.
• Additional Details: The broken wing could be depicted with feathers falling away, symbolizing the sacrifices made by the resistance. It could also be paired with an image of a rising sun, symbolizing a new dawn for society.

1. The Hacked Flower:

• Description: A simple flower image, but with its petals made of circuit boards or technological components. This symbol represents the fusion of nature and technology, hinting at the resistance's fight for a more balanced future.
• Symbolism: The hacked flower represents the reclamation of beauty and nature in a world dominated by technology. It signifies the hope for a future where technology serves humanity, not the other way around.
• Additional Details: The flower could be a specific species native to the area before the rise of high-tech dominance. It could also be a symbol of a specific leader or movement within the resistance.

These symbols are just a starting point – get creative and consider the specific values and goals of your resistance movement. Remember, the best symbols are those that resonate with the characters and the audience, conveying the essence of rebellion in a way that is both meaningful and visually striking.