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2024.05.20 05:59 Contactunderground Contact Network History Project: Were “psychotronic” attacks against contact activists in the 1990s a precursor of the “Havana Syndrome”? Directed Energy Weapons not only affect the human body but might be targeting human consciousness itself at the level of what is called the astral body.”
 | Contact Network History Project: submitted by Contactunderground to aliens [link] [comments] Joseph Burkes MD 2024 The high desert near Roswell is where contact activist Shari Adamiak was reportedly attacked. Introduction In my judgment, flying saucers threaten all terrestrial elites, but not necessarily the planet’s people. Given what is a perceived threat to the status quo, both corporate and Executive Branch Intelligence operatives have historically been compelled to deal with UFOs as a non-human intelligence counterintelligence challenge. As a Working Group Coordinator in the 1990s for the Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind Initiative, I observed signs of obvious surveillance of our contact efforts. Young men in civilian clothing with a military bearing were frequently present at our research sites. Team members were blatantly photographed on arrival at a fieldwork location. On one occasion, military helicopters and on another F-14s buzzed us during our investigations. Contact activists who are staging Human Initiated Contact Events (HICE) aka CE5, might in some ways be ideal targets to try out what are now called Directed Energy Weapons. This is because we already are under surveillance and the effects of such non-lethal technology can be readily monitored via telephone conversations and email. Importantly, as the result of a de facto policy of ridicule and denial, most people imagine that those attempting to contact aliens” are probably mentally ill. Once targeted and attacked, contact activists would find little sympathy from the larger society, including police and medical authorities, if they dared to complain about such attacks. Thus, the technology can be developed with little interference. “The Havana Syndrome” During the past few years, current and former US government employees have reported being targeted by are called “Directed Energy Weapons.” The failure of US Executive Branch to identify the precise source of these alleged attacks and to adequately deal with the long-term health consequences of them, has led to charges of a coverup. The victims describe experiencing a wide range of symptoms: headaches, dizziness, blurred vision and memory loss and insomnia. Shari Adamiak, a Prominent Leader in our Human Initiated Contact Network Shari Adamiak was a Working Group Coordinator in the CE-5 Initiative from 1991 until her death in 1998. She played an immeasurable role in the formulation of the CSETI Contact Protocols and the development of contact teams that operated primarily in the Western United States during the 1990s. Several times Shari also accompanied the CSETI Director Dr. Greer to Southern England to investigate the relationship between UFOs and Crop Circle phenomena. Directed Energy Weapon Attack in the United Kingdom As a fellow contact team leader, I always paid close attention to what she shared with me about her work. If memory serves me correctly, after returning from the UK in 1994(although it might have been 1993) I heard a very disturbing account from her. While in Southern England, Shari and two other crop circle investigators were sitting at an outdoor café. A commercial van of some sort pulled up and parked about twenty yards away. Suddenly all three women developed the following symptoms, vertigo, nausea, light headedness, muscle ache and headache. According to Shari all were feeling perfectly fine before the onset of the symptoms which lasted perhaps ten or fifteen minutes and then gradually resolved. Shari stated the van then drove away. “Psychotronic” Weaponry Appears to Target Human Consciousness In 1994 both Steven Greer MD and Shari Adamiak reported to our network that they had been targeted with what Greer called “psychotronic” weaponry. (In Shari’s report posted below she used the term “psychoelectronic.” In his oral history book “Hidden Truth Forbidden Knowledge,” the CSETI leader described a series of attacks starting in the fall of 1994. One reportedly occurred in New York City after a meeting with a member of a European royal family. “After falling fast asleep, I awakened hours later. I couldn't raise my arms; I couldn't roll over; I couldn't move! I was in a state of complete physical paralysis. I knew what was going on; a directional electromagnetic weapons system hit me. It was coming through the window above my bed. Projected into the room was the single most extreme sense of evil and terror I've ever felt in my life. I could tell they were attempting to extract my astral body out of my physical body.” This appears to be different from what Shari described above in the UK attack but is similar to what she stated happened to her in New Mexico in October 1994 during a UFO investigation. I have posted a portion of her official CSETI report on that mission below as part of my Contact Network History Project. Readers please note that "CTS" is the abbreviation for "Coherent Thought Sequencing. This is the term Steven Greer MD coined for group meditation involving either thought projection to, and /or remote viewing of "extraterrestrial spacecraft", combined with the group's intention to interact peacefully with the non-human intelligences piloting those craft. REPORT OF THE RAPID MOBILIZATION INVESTIGATIVE TEAM MISSION TO THE STATE OF NEW MEXICO, U.S.A. OCTOBER 1- 7. 1994 ~INTRODUCTION~ A small Rapid Mobilization Investigative Team (RMIT) of three CSETI members met in Albuquerque, New Mexico to investigate activities in the state, and to take a reconnaissance trip to the Roswell area. Members of the team for this mission included: Steven M. Greer, M.D., international director of SETI; Shari Adamiak, CSETI executive council, coordinator for the RMIT, the working groups, and the Denver, Colorado group; and Patrick Sullivan, a CSETI member from Pagosa Springs, Colorado. The starting date of the mission followed immediately after Steven Greer's appearance on the Larry King Live special the previous night near Area 57, Rachel, Nevada. We traveled to the Roswell area after joining up on October 2nd. Here we spent time in prayer and thought to help heal the area and the energy from the crashes of space craft in New Mexico in the late 1940s and 1950s. Our trip was primarily of an investigative nature. Besides wanting to do research around Roswell, we were also following up on activity reported in Midway, outside Roswell. We also wanted to investigate the White Sands area, as it had been the site of extreme activity in the past and is also an area that Dr. Greer feels may be the site of a future, cooperative landing and meeting between extraterrestrial intelligent beings and representatives from this planet, including government, military and civilian (a small CSETI team). The report that follows is real-time dictation and field notes from this mission. Respectfully submitted, Shari Adamiak CSETI Executive Council RAPID MOBILIZATION INVESTIGATIVE TEAM MISSION TO NEW MEXICO - OCTOBER 2- 7, 1994 Real-time dictation from the field each night follows: ~October 2, 1994:~ We are outside of Roswell, New Mexico on our first night of a RMIT. Present are Steven Greer, Patrick Sullivan, and Shari Adamiak. We have just camped out on a road of a county road between Midway and Dexter. We have seen one anomalous object flying in the East, very low to the horizon headed towards the North. Did not appear to have any strobing lights. When Steven signaled to it, the object rose up a little bit and became noticeably brighter, changing from red to white. Also, as that was occurring, I saw a shooting star at about 25° above the Eastern horizon headed North. 10:50pm and two shooting stars just seen in the zenith by Patrick and Steven. Patrick just reported a very brilliant shooting star, shooting from East to West by the Milky Way. It's about 11:00. Patrick said it was the fastest "shooting star" he's ever seen. Just a moment later a second shooting star was seen by Patrick almost parallel to the other. It's just a minute or so after 11:00 and we have just been observing in the SE a very unusual strobing object visible only through the night vision scope, moving very low to the horizon with a rapid strobe to it. We can't see it with the naked eye. At 11:40pm we had an experience during Coherent Thought Sequencing (CTS) where Steven and I both felt there was something directly over us and at the same time Patrick reported seeing a strobing above us. Steven then felt they were directly behind his head. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He got up and on the very low Northern horizon was able to see the red-amber colored light. It's about midnight. We're having an unusual sighting over in the East. We've been watching an object that moved South and then became stationary. Now it looks as if it could be a planet rising. It has a red-amber look to it or the object could be just totally stationary. We did signal to it. It seemed to flare up. It's about 5° above the horizon, directly across from us in the East. This object that we were looking at appeared to have positioned itself in front of either Regel or Betelgeuse in Orion, which that was a part of and is now fully risen and is beautiful in the Eastern sky. ~October 3, 1994:~ We are out at a site East of Roswell. It's just a minute or two before 7:00pm. We're getting something to east. It’s partly cloudy. It’s in the 70s. It looks like it will be fairly clear for most of the night. West. We are directly across from the mountain Capital to the West. To our East there is a vent for a gas well that's burning. It's 7:50 and in the East towards Midway we are observing some twinkling, strobing type lights. There are two or three of them. They seem to be like the lights described that Mr. Escamillo has on video from Midway. About a minute later, we don't see them at all. Oh, I just saw one flash farther to the East. We are not sure if these could be aircraft or something anomalous. They are dim to bright and white. These white blinking objects have continued on to the East, traveling in the South part of the sky. They are continuing to do strobing and flashing but in no regular pattern. They appear to be chasing each other randomly across the sky, rather slowly. It's 10:15pm and there is one single white bright light appearing in the South that is signaling back to us. It is very low on the horizon, maybe even on the ground. The object just signaled back twice after a signal sent to it of two flashes. It is in the area of Bottomless Lakes State Park, which is due South of us. It's about 5 or 10 minutes later and this light in the South is again signaling. It's moved just a bit. It moves a bit to the East or the West, but it's still completely low, right on the horizon. We don't know if it's terrestrial or extraterrestrial at this point. It is 10:35 when this signaling has reoccurred again. Steven is now looking at it through the night vision binoculars and he says it is a continuously illuminated object that's on right now, even when it is not signaling to us. It just now flashed again faintly. We will continue to signal to this and report. The sky has also become completely clear except for around the very far edges and just in the East. Through the night vision scope, Patrick is seeing that there is also a corresponding strobing light in the sky about 10° above the horizon that's in synch with the one that's here on the ground. But we cannot see the one in the sky without using the night vision scope. It's 11:00 and the light across the road in the South by the Bottomless Lakes has just illuminated itself about 5 or 6 times to us. It definitely seems to be under intelligent control. The last round of signaling that's going on now started up just after we broadcast the tones out over the walkie-talkie. It's just a few minutes after 11:00 and Steven saw an extremely fast moving "meteorite" just to the East of zenith. He said it was faster than anything he's ever seen move. Also, it happened to Patrick last night - that same type of extremely fast moving object. It's 11:55 and we were just hit from behind to our East by some beam that was low and on the ground that swept right across the field encompassing us. NOTE THAT JUST AS I WAS TRANSCRIBING THIS, I LEARNED THAT THE TAPE IS BLANK FROM THIS POINT ON FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT. VERY INTERESTING IN THAT THE EVENT THAT FOLLOWED WAS VERY UNUSUAL. WHAT FOLLOWS IS MY NARRATIVE REPORT BASED ON RECOLLECTION SINCE THE TAPE HAS BEEN COMPROMISED. THE BLANK SPOT LASTS FOR THE REMAINDER OF THIS NIGHT'S DICTATION, THEN PICKS UP AGAIN ON THE FOLLOWING NIGHT'S FIELD DICTATION. I BELIEVE THIS BLANK SPACE IN THE TAPE IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO THE PSYCHOELECTRONIC ATTACK. Narrative Report: Soon after this round of light signaling, we did a Coherent Thought Sequencing. I was in a deep state of unbounded mind when I felt my body struck by an invisible beam of negative energy. It caused nearly total paralysis except that my body was wracked with small convulsions from what I sensed to be a psychoelectronic, non-lethal weapon. I could hear myself moaning slowly. I felt that the beam was coming from my left, towards Bottomless Lakes. I sensed three shadowy figures that appeared to be human men. The beam had the effect of separating me from my teammates. Since I only had the faculty of mind at my disposal during the attack, I mentally asked where Patrick and Steven were. I finally could sense Patrick out I front of me, distance away. I could not see or sense Steven. I kept asking mentally, “Where is Steven?” in as authoritative tone as I could manage while under attack. Receiving no response, I began to mentally call to Steven. He must have mentally picked up my thoughts because I felt him take my hands even though he was not there physically. He then hugged me and the attack ended. I sensed that it was our combined energy that was able to break the beam. I then rather passed out for a few minutes. When our CTS ended, I clearly recalled everything that happened and knew I had not dozed off and had a dream. It was ultimately real. I was still a bit weak from the attack. Steven asked if something happened. I said, "you won't believe this" and proceeded to tell Steven and Patrick most of what occurred. Patrick had been unaware of any of this during our CTS. When I finished, Steven said, "wait until you hear this". During the CTS, he heard a voice that said, "are you ready to go?" He then felt that the energy was instantly scrambled and he lost the connection. He could hear me faintly moaning and sensed that I was in distress. He then came to me etherically and hugged me. The dove tailing of our experiences was incredible. For some days, I pondered on this event. It had a profound effect upon me, and still does to this day. I knew it was highly significant that we were able to break the attack with combined positive energy. I also instinctively and absolutely felt that the attack had come from human beings. I knew that it was not sent by extraterrestrials. The beam carried with it fear and terror which I knew were being projected upon me by an outside force. I did not feel that fear and terror from within my own being, but I was forced to experience it. We then saw the ground-based lights at Bottomless Lakes flashing randomly again. It was nearly 1:00 by now and we decided to pack up. And drive over there to investigate. As we were in a flat open area, and anyone at Bottomless could have seen us coming for literally a mile. We drove around the Bottomless Lakes State Park, shining our 1.5 million candle power light all about. No traces of anyone or any vehicles were seen. There is a county road that cuts out of Bottomless Lakes which could make for an easy get-away for any one in that park. End of Narrative Report Links to articles supportive of themes outlined in the above report: If flying saucer intelligences threaten all terrestrial elites, but not necessarily the Earth’s people, then it is understandable that governmental response to UFOs is a counterintelligence one. https://contactunderground.wordpress.com/2022/02/03/dueling-paradigms-perhaps-a-counterintelligence-model-is-better-than-a-scientific-one-to-study-ufos/ “Science, Counterintelligence & UFOs” Researcher Val Germann wrote this important multi-part article in 1997. He has given me permission to repost his work on my blog site. https://contactunderground.wordpress.com/2022/09/04/science-counterintelligence-and-ufos/ Staging Human Initiated Contact Events adjacent to a high security research lab involved challenges of surveillance for my team. https://contactunderground.wordpress.com/2022/05/19/did-a-fateful-phone-call-trigger-the-appearance-of-blackhawk-helicopters-during-contact-work/ During fieldwork in the high desert, my contact team was blatantly photographed on two separate occasions. We had UFO sightings first in the west, then in the north. We anticipated the next would be in the east. Instead three waves of jet fighters heading east buzzed us. https://contactunderground.wordpress.com/2022/07/11/and-then-the-sky-exploded-incident-at-joshua-tree-january-1996/ |
2024.05.20 05:57 Determination7 An Outcast In Another World (Subtitle: Is 'Insanity' A Racial Trait?) [Fantasy, LitRPG] - Chapter 265 (Book 6 Chapter 50) (Part 2)
Link to Part 1 (Read This First)
--
Something inside Rob's head clicked. He exhaled, cleared his thoughts, and concentrated. There was no time to plan – so he made some for himself.
Quick Thinking Level Increased! $^&$#*# → (@^$(#)&
The world went still, as if he'd pressed pause on reality.
Okay.
What Skills was he underutilizing? What stats was he underutilizing?
Go down the list. Reassess your preconceptions. Strength to deal damage. Vitality to survive. Endurance to fight for long periods. Dexterity to catch his prey. Perception to find his prey. Mind to shield his...well, mind. Magic to use certain Skills, especially Rampage. All necessary and important.
Yet not always treated equally.
He felt confident that he was getting the most out of his Strength, Vitality, and Dexterity. They were his bread-and-butter stats. Perception less so, but he couldn't exactly call time-out on the fight to go train his senses. Mind–
Actually, Mind was linked to a surprising number of abilities. Passive boosts like Heat Resistance, utility Skills like Speed Reading, and even things like...
Sense Mana.
He'd never been great at Sensing Mana. It didn't come naturally to him. Then again, what about any of this was natural? That ship had sailed the moment he started making numbers go up by killing squirrels. He wasn't here for an honest duel – he was here to cheat his way to victory over the inhuman despots of the divine realms.
And luckily, nothing cheated harder than Level 99 Skills. For example, this highly interesting bit he recalled from Never Forget Your Rage: 'Significantly increases the user's proficiency with Sense Mana.' He hadn't given it much thought before, simply because manipulating mana wasn't his forte. It didn't seem relevant to how he typically won battles.
Time to fix that.
Rob charged. It was a direct frontal assault with no bells or whistles attached. Quick Thinking slowed his perception of reality to a crawl as he watched Kismet prep his teleport.
In that same split-second, he focused on Sense Mana, expanding his awareness across the battlefield. I feel...Kismet. Myself. Riardin's Rangers. The lesser gods. Divine essence. Rifts leaking. Energy. Energy everywhere. Yikes. Is this what Malika senses all the time? How can she hear herself think?
Eyes twitching, Rob pruned out any unnecessary information, separating the white noise from what was important. He sharpened his awareness to a razor-thin point and searched. Amidst the clamor of magic, rifts, and divinity, he found...
A disturbance. No larger than a ripple in a vast ocean. Yet it was there. Something new.
Something that had started right when Kismet saw him charge.
The god weaved mana, initiating his escape.
{TEN! YOU–}
Rob smothered the static into a low whisper, rushing towards that tiny ripple. Kismet's teleportation spells were instantaneous, but to an Ascending HUMAN with unnatural Perception and Quick Thinking, nothing in the universe was truly beyond perceiving. He reacted in the space between moments, Sensing where the god's teleport would end up, then heading straight for it.
Which meant that when Kismet re-appeared, Rob was already mere inches away.
PURGE DIVINITY.
He aimed for the center of mass. Leveling High's static had gone silent, as if rendered speechless. Rob watched in slow motion as – without even a hint of resistance – his hand sank into the stunned god's torso.
GOOOOT. YOOOOU. Fingers clenched, energy pulsed, and laughter echoed. A thrill of triumph surged through Rob's veins, like adrenaline mixed with sweet ambrosia. For a brief micro-instant, he was allowed to believe that the battle had been won.
Then Kismet exploded.
It was more startling than harmful – like a Riardin's Special of divine essence detonating in Rob's face. Without warning, the god's mana-body abruptly burst apart, scattering in all directions.
The HUMAN was left in a state of baffled disbelief, holding his arm out towards nothing. Was that...it? Had Purge Divinity triggered the godly equivalent of an allergic reaction? Because it was supposed to eradicate their mana, not do that. And considering that the gods could shape their mana at will, how much would exploding realistically affect them?
What if this was no different than a lizard abandoning its tail?
His suspicions were confirmed when Kismet reformed a safe distance away. The god was clutching his wounded chest area, looking somewhat worse for the wear. Fear and outrage had overtaken his countenance. "How did you discern where I would appear? How?!"
Rob didn't respond. Instead, he stared at the fragment of divine essence clutched in his hand. It was all that remained from what should have been checkmate.
A consolation prize for his failed efforts.
{...Eleven.}
Leveling High said nothing else. It didn't need to. Rob couldn't even fool himself into thinking that he'd proven his point. While this was the most damage he'd inflicted on Kismet so far, it was hardly the decisive blow he'd wished for.
That wasn't enough to warrant another eleven fruitless chases. Not when both his body and the divine realms were treading ever closer to collapse. The ever-increasing weariness of his flesh was proof of that. Victory wasn't impossible, but it seemed increasingly unlikely that he could seize it before catastrophe struck.
I've still taken a step forward. If I make use of Sense Mana again, react faster next time...then Kismet would adapt as well. The slippery bastard wasn't going to be caught off-guard in the exact same manner. He would also be siphoning more mana from the rifts, gradually increasing his power – whereas Rob's had plateaued.
Unless...unless...{unless...}
Unless the HUMAN Ascended.
As if drawn by the pull of destiny, his gaze locked onto the fragment of divinity held within his grip. Rob shivered as a red haze began coating his vision. The essence called to him, singing a melody of transcendence, inviting him to throw off the restrictive shackles of mortality and become something greater.
He just needed to devour it. Accept its divinity unto himself. Embrace his metamorphosis, and gain the might of gods. With his full potential realized...he could save everyone.
At the cost of his humanity.
Maybe the distinction shouldn't matter at this point. Compared to the average Elatran, his mortality was essentially window dressing. What mortal could go toe-to-toe with the creators of a world? Besides, the Blight-child could've been wrong about Ascension changing him. Even if he went and made things official, 'preserving these worlds' would always be his goal. He would still be himself.
Probably.
Assuming that godhood didn't forcibly alter his personality.
Assuming that being subjected to infinity didn't splinter his weary mind.
Assuming that Leveling High wasn't misleading him in some way.
Assuming...a lot of things, really.
I shouldn't be hesitating. Rob glared at the divine essence as if it was a poisonous viper. Of \course* this is risky. It's still less risky than praying I get a lucky hit on Kismet in the immediate future. I've always preferred to roll the dice if it would better my odds, so why–*
{Your true emotions are laid bare to me,} Leveling High interrupted, hissing loudly. {These justifications mask a core of selfishness. You worry that Ascending will leave your friends behind.} It made a noise of distaste. {Apparently, that is more important than ensuring their survival.}
Rob froze. All at once, several puzzle pieces slotted into place.
Leveling High wasn't entirely wrong. He was being selfish. Rob knew that even in the best-case scenario, Ascending would turn him into an existence that was incompatible with living in the mortal realms. It would be like the disconnect he'd felt when visiting Fiend territory recently, only magnified a hundred times over.
None of that sounded remotely appealing. Ultimate power wasn't worth feeling eternally isolated. His visions of the Original Will, Second Will, and gods had made that exceptionally clear.
However...if that was all, he wouldn't be hesitating right now. Unlike the rest of his Party, he was totally allowed to make heroic sacrifices. Rules for thee and not for me. Rob would've discarded his humanity in a heartbeat if he thought there was no other way. Logically, he did think that.
Emotionally, he didn't.
Because he wasn't alone.
Even at his most fatalistic, Rob couldn't overrule the part of him that believed in Riardin's Rangers. If he kept faith...just for a little while longer...
They would grant him a miracle.
It was then that a warbling SCREECH resounded throughout the realms.
Rob and Kismet were unable to suppress their curiosity. Making sure to keep an eye on each other, they cautiously directed a portion of their attention to the screech's origin. Both were fully intending to ambush the other if they detected the smallest hint of carelessness.
They still almost lost composure after noticing what was going on.
At a separate corner of the battlefield, Zamira was tearing into her opponent with what could only be described as ruthless efficiency. The god flailed like a helpless lamb before a butcher, impotently thrashing about as a Skill-wreathed sword carved into it time and again. Mana erupted in a conflagration of panic, but Zamira sidestepped its reprisal with graceful ease, untouched and unfazed as she went back to one-sidedly dominating a literal deity.
Rob resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He was having difficulty understanding what he was watching. It wasn't just that Zamira was winning – it was the way she was winning. From what he could surmise, her stats hadn't increased. She didn't seem stronger or faster than before.
Yet her movements embodied the very pinnacle of swordsmanship as an art form. Precise, calculated, but flowing like water. She was a painter at work, and with every stroke of her brush on the canvas, her final portrait took shape.
One-by-one, all other battles ground to a halt. Seven mortals and seven gods stood transfixed as they bore witness to expertise not seen in many thousands of years.
Like a wounded animal, Zamira's foe – or more accurately, her training dummy – lashed out. Destructive mana surrounded her. Exhibiting zero concern, she dashed forward and imbued her sword with the light of a Skill.
"Lost Art: Moonlight's Mirror." In one swift motion, she sliced up through the mana in front of her. The light imbuing her sword repelled the god's energy, parting its magic like the Red Seas. Zamira immediately dashed into the opening she'd created and scored another vicious blow, disengaging before the god could retaliate.
Lost Art? Rob pondered. Okay, that's \definitely* new.* He'd been in the room when Riardin's Rangers discussed their Level 99 Class Skills, and Zamira hadn't mentioned anything like this. Something must've changed while he was busy fighting Kismet...not that Rob was in any rush to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Zamira moved as a blur of silver and steel, shifting behind her opponent. "Lost Art: Aura Blade." The light enshrining her sword intensified, and when she struck next, it left an injury on the god's mana-body that struggled to heal. By now its form appeared threadbare, like a patchwork quilt that had been ripped and sewn back together countless times.
That was when Rob truly realized what was happening. Zamira's fancy footwork and new Skills were impressive, yet they wouldn't have amounted to anything if she couldn't deal lasting damage – which she was. While her Aura Blade wasn't nearly as effective as Purge Divinity, it had still achieved the combination of raw power and mana manipulation that was necessary to harm a creature of energy.
Slowly but surely, the god was dying.
Everyone else realized that around the same moment. The lesser gods moved to assist their comrade, and Riardin's Rangers quickly intercepted them. Rob caught sight of Keira bashing her god aside with the flat of her greatsword, knocking it away before it could cast a spell at Zamira.
Noticing a flicker of motion, Rob took one step towards Kismet. The god halted in place, his arm half-risen. They exchanged a long look. Kismet didn't want to restart their song and dance, and Rob didn't want to miss the show.
Eventually, the HUMAN let out a chuckle. He waggled his finger at his dance partner, as if admonishing an unruly toddler."LeT hER CoOK."
And cook she did. Unhindered, Zamira methodically dismantled her god. Cut by cut, and piece by piece, the deity was whittled down to a pale imitation of its former glory. Once or twice it managed to slightly graze her with an attack, but that was all.
Its fate had been sealed for a long time now.
"Lost Art: Eight-Pointed Jaws." Zamira hammered the god with a rapid flurry of blows. Each strike carved a line of mana into its body. When the eighth line had been unleashed, the god suddenly crumpled inward, as if it was being chomped on by the maw of an enormous beast.
Piteous screams melded with the sound of a Bladesoul readying her most powerful Skill. Its aura shone with a wicked silver glow, like a falling guillotine reflecting the sunlit rays of a new dawn.
"K-Kismet!" The god reached out to its leader with a trembling limb. "Please! Kism–"
"CREATED ART: GOD-SLAYING SWORD!"
She cut just once.
The god burnt away, leaving not even ashes in the wind.
Rob concentrated with Sense Mana. His mouth split into a feral grin when he searched for the god's essence and detected absolutely fucking nothing. It was gone. Kaput. Finito. Wouldn't have been possible without Kismet draining his own allies to save his skin, but he had, so here they were.
The HUMAN activated Purge Divinity and clenched his fist. He destroyed the essence fragment he'd ripped from Kismet, then fixed the god with a gaze of murderous finality.
"ChECkMaTE."
Kismet flinched, comprehension dawning on him as he envisioned how the rest of the battle would play out. Zamira didn't seem the least bit winded. She had plenty of gas left in the tank, and was currently heading over to team up with one of her allies and slay the next god.
With that in mind...the day's outcome had already been decided. Rob would keep Kismet busy. Riardin's Rangers would steadily clean up the lesser gods. Then, as a full Party, they would gang up on Kismet and beat the everloving shit out of him.
No fuss, no muss.
Kismet began to panic – then stopped, centering himself. He seemed to reach a decision, some plan formulating in his thoughts.
Defiance? Oh, that's adorable. The BERSERKER's grin grew so wide that it hurt. Let's make this a game. His hands pulsed brightly with Purging energy. Will I kill you before my Party members finish up on their end? We win either way, but hey! Can't have them do \all* the work–*
"Elder Alessia is dead."
Rob's breath caught in his throat.
She...what? He'd heard Kismet speak, but, no, that couldn't be–
"Elder Alessia is dead. Remember that I cannot lie."
He tried to respond. No words came out. It felt as if the world had vanished from underneath his feet.
"Elder Alessia is dead," Kismet repeated, for the third time. "She used Soul Burn to keep the Queen of Dragons at bay."
She...she used...
Rob hadn't seen Alessia when he went to check on Fiend territory. Didn't think anything of it. Wasn't like he looked everywhere. Figured he'd just missed her.
But she was...gone? Since Ragnavi? He'd spent days expunging Dungeons and Leviathans, gallivanting around Elatra like a fucking idiot, thinking that at least he'd prevented more people he cared about from dying, when the whole time, Alessia had been–
{BEHIND!}
The warning came far too late.
Even if it had come earlier, though, he still might not have dodged. Kismet's attack wasn't packed full of destructive magic like his other spells. Sense Mana didn't register it as a threat. Rob immediately cast Dauntless Reprisal on reflex, but that didn't help either.
Because this wasn't intended to damage him.
A surge of mana pierced Rob's back. An intense burning coursed through him, as if his veins and skin were simultaneously being set aflame. It was a sensation that, unfortunately, he recognized.
Kismet had directly infused his soul with mana.
This wasn't the first time. The gods had done it once before to refill Rob's Purging energy stores. In fact, although they'd warned him of the consequences, he'd pushed for it rather...vocally.
Despite being inflicted with Soul Instability as a result, Rob didn't regret his choice. Back then, it had been the key to finally ending the Second Will's appalling ambitions.
Now?
It was no better than adding ten tons of weight onto rotting support beams.
Rob fell to his knees. Agony and weakness suffused his body. He felt Purging energy swell within – for all the good it would serve him, because he couldn't move a muscle.
An unsurprising system notification popped into view.
Warning: Soul Instability has increased to High!
--
Thanks for reading!
submitted by Determination7 to HFY [link] [comments]
--
Something inside Rob's head clicked. He exhaled, cleared his thoughts, and concentrated. There was no time to plan – so he made some for himself.
Quick Thinking Level Increased! $^&$#*# → (@^$(#)&
The world went still, as if he'd pressed pause on reality.
Okay.
What Skills was he underutilizing? What stats was he underutilizing?
Go down the list. Reassess your preconceptions. Strength to deal damage. Vitality to survive. Endurance to fight for long periods. Dexterity to catch his prey. Perception to find his prey. Mind to shield his...well, mind. Magic to use certain Skills, especially Rampage. All necessary and important.
Yet not always treated equally.
He felt confident that he was getting the most out of his Strength, Vitality, and Dexterity. They were his bread-and-butter stats. Perception less so, but he couldn't exactly call time-out on the fight to go train his senses. Mind–
Actually, Mind was linked to a surprising number of abilities. Passive boosts like Heat Resistance, utility Skills like Speed Reading, and even things like...
Sense Mana.
He'd never been great at Sensing Mana. It didn't come naturally to him. Then again, what about any of this was natural? That ship had sailed the moment he started making numbers go up by killing squirrels. He wasn't here for an honest duel – he was here to cheat his way to victory over the inhuman despots of the divine realms.
And luckily, nothing cheated harder than Level 99 Skills. For example, this highly interesting bit he recalled from Never Forget Your Rage: 'Significantly increases the user's proficiency with Sense Mana.' He hadn't given it much thought before, simply because manipulating mana wasn't his forte. It didn't seem relevant to how he typically won battles.
Time to fix that.
Rob charged. It was a direct frontal assault with no bells or whistles attached. Quick Thinking slowed his perception of reality to a crawl as he watched Kismet prep his teleport.
In that same split-second, he focused on Sense Mana, expanding his awareness across the battlefield. I feel...Kismet. Myself. Riardin's Rangers. The lesser gods. Divine essence. Rifts leaking. Energy. Energy everywhere. Yikes. Is this what Malika senses all the time? How can she hear herself think?
Eyes twitching, Rob pruned out any unnecessary information, separating the white noise from what was important. He sharpened his awareness to a razor-thin point and searched. Amidst the clamor of magic, rifts, and divinity, he found...
A disturbance. No larger than a ripple in a vast ocean. Yet it was there. Something new.
Something that had started right when Kismet saw him charge.
The god weaved mana, initiating his escape.
{TEN! YOU–}
Rob smothered the static into a low whisper, rushing towards that tiny ripple. Kismet's teleportation spells were instantaneous, but to an Ascending HUMAN with unnatural Perception and Quick Thinking, nothing in the universe was truly beyond perceiving. He reacted in the space between moments, Sensing where the god's teleport would end up, then heading straight for it.
Which meant that when Kismet re-appeared, Rob was already mere inches away.
PURGE DIVINITY.
He aimed for the center of mass. Leveling High's static had gone silent, as if rendered speechless. Rob watched in slow motion as – without even a hint of resistance – his hand sank into the stunned god's torso.
GOOOOT. YOOOOU. Fingers clenched, energy pulsed, and laughter echoed. A thrill of triumph surged through Rob's veins, like adrenaline mixed with sweet ambrosia. For a brief micro-instant, he was allowed to believe that the battle had been won.
Then Kismet exploded.
It was more startling than harmful – like a Riardin's Special of divine essence detonating in Rob's face. Without warning, the god's mana-body abruptly burst apart, scattering in all directions.
The HUMAN was left in a state of baffled disbelief, holding his arm out towards nothing. Was that...it? Had Purge Divinity triggered the godly equivalent of an allergic reaction? Because it was supposed to eradicate their mana, not do that. And considering that the gods could shape their mana at will, how much would exploding realistically affect them?
What if this was no different than a lizard abandoning its tail?
His suspicions were confirmed when Kismet reformed a safe distance away. The god was clutching his wounded chest area, looking somewhat worse for the wear. Fear and outrage had overtaken his countenance. "How did you discern where I would appear? How?!"
Rob didn't respond. Instead, he stared at the fragment of divine essence clutched in his hand. It was all that remained from what should have been checkmate.
A consolation prize for his failed efforts.
{...Eleven.}
Leveling High said nothing else. It didn't need to. Rob couldn't even fool himself into thinking that he'd proven his point. While this was the most damage he'd inflicted on Kismet so far, it was hardly the decisive blow he'd wished for.
That wasn't enough to warrant another eleven fruitless chases. Not when both his body and the divine realms were treading ever closer to collapse. The ever-increasing weariness of his flesh was proof of that. Victory wasn't impossible, but it seemed increasingly unlikely that he could seize it before catastrophe struck.
I've still taken a step forward. If I make use of Sense Mana again, react faster next time...then Kismet would adapt as well. The slippery bastard wasn't going to be caught off-guard in the exact same manner. He would also be siphoning more mana from the rifts, gradually increasing his power – whereas Rob's had plateaued.
Unless...unless...{unless...}
Unless the HUMAN Ascended.
As if drawn by the pull of destiny, his gaze locked onto the fragment of divinity held within his grip. Rob shivered as a red haze began coating his vision. The essence called to him, singing a melody of transcendence, inviting him to throw off the restrictive shackles of mortality and become something greater.
He just needed to devour it. Accept its divinity unto himself. Embrace his metamorphosis, and gain the might of gods. With his full potential realized...he could save everyone.
At the cost of his humanity.
Maybe the distinction shouldn't matter at this point. Compared to the average Elatran, his mortality was essentially window dressing. What mortal could go toe-to-toe with the creators of a world? Besides, the Blight-child could've been wrong about Ascension changing him. Even if he went and made things official, 'preserving these worlds' would always be his goal. He would still be himself.
Probably.
Assuming that godhood didn't forcibly alter his personality.
Assuming that being subjected to infinity didn't splinter his weary mind.
Assuming that Leveling High wasn't misleading him in some way.
Assuming...a lot of things, really.
I shouldn't be hesitating. Rob glared at the divine essence as if it was a poisonous viper. Of \course* this is risky. It's still less risky than praying I get a lucky hit on Kismet in the immediate future. I've always preferred to roll the dice if it would better my odds, so why–*
{Your true emotions are laid bare to me,} Leveling High interrupted, hissing loudly. {These justifications mask a core of selfishness. You worry that Ascending will leave your friends behind.} It made a noise of distaste. {Apparently, that is more important than ensuring their survival.}
Rob froze. All at once, several puzzle pieces slotted into place.
Leveling High wasn't entirely wrong. He was being selfish. Rob knew that even in the best-case scenario, Ascending would turn him into an existence that was incompatible with living in the mortal realms. It would be like the disconnect he'd felt when visiting Fiend territory recently, only magnified a hundred times over.
None of that sounded remotely appealing. Ultimate power wasn't worth feeling eternally isolated. His visions of the Original Will, Second Will, and gods had made that exceptionally clear.
However...if that was all, he wouldn't be hesitating right now. Unlike the rest of his Party, he was totally allowed to make heroic sacrifices. Rules for thee and not for me. Rob would've discarded his humanity in a heartbeat if he thought there was no other way. Logically, he did think that.
Emotionally, he didn't.
Because he wasn't alone.
Even at his most fatalistic, Rob couldn't overrule the part of him that believed in Riardin's Rangers. If he kept faith...just for a little while longer...
They would grant him a miracle.
It was then that a warbling SCREECH resounded throughout the realms.
Rob and Kismet were unable to suppress their curiosity. Making sure to keep an eye on each other, they cautiously directed a portion of their attention to the screech's origin. Both were fully intending to ambush the other if they detected the smallest hint of carelessness.
They still almost lost composure after noticing what was going on.
At a separate corner of the battlefield, Zamira was tearing into her opponent with what could only be described as ruthless efficiency. The god flailed like a helpless lamb before a butcher, impotently thrashing about as a Skill-wreathed sword carved into it time and again. Mana erupted in a conflagration of panic, but Zamira sidestepped its reprisal with graceful ease, untouched and unfazed as she went back to one-sidedly dominating a literal deity.
Rob resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He was having difficulty understanding what he was watching. It wasn't just that Zamira was winning – it was the way she was winning. From what he could surmise, her stats hadn't increased. She didn't seem stronger or faster than before.
Yet her movements embodied the very pinnacle of swordsmanship as an art form. Precise, calculated, but flowing like water. She was a painter at work, and with every stroke of her brush on the canvas, her final portrait took shape.
One-by-one, all other battles ground to a halt. Seven mortals and seven gods stood transfixed as they bore witness to expertise not seen in many thousands of years.
Like a wounded animal, Zamira's foe – or more accurately, her training dummy – lashed out. Destructive mana surrounded her. Exhibiting zero concern, she dashed forward and imbued her sword with the light of a Skill.
"Lost Art: Moonlight's Mirror." In one swift motion, she sliced up through the mana in front of her. The light imbuing her sword repelled the god's energy, parting its magic like the Red Seas. Zamira immediately dashed into the opening she'd created and scored another vicious blow, disengaging before the god could retaliate.
Lost Art? Rob pondered. Okay, that's \definitely* new.* He'd been in the room when Riardin's Rangers discussed their Level 99 Class Skills, and Zamira hadn't mentioned anything like this. Something must've changed while he was busy fighting Kismet...not that Rob was in any rush to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Zamira moved as a blur of silver and steel, shifting behind her opponent. "Lost Art: Aura Blade." The light enshrining her sword intensified, and when she struck next, it left an injury on the god's mana-body that struggled to heal. By now its form appeared threadbare, like a patchwork quilt that had been ripped and sewn back together countless times.
That was when Rob truly realized what was happening. Zamira's fancy footwork and new Skills were impressive, yet they wouldn't have amounted to anything if she couldn't deal lasting damage – which she was. While her Aura Blade wasn't nearly as effective as Purge Divinity, it had still achieved the combination of raw power and mana manipulation that was necessary to harm a creature of energy.
Slowly but surely, the god was dying.
Everyone else realized that around the same moment. The lesser gods moved to assist their comrade, and Riardin's Rangers quickly intercepted them. Rob caught sight of Keira bashing her god aside with the flat of her greatsword, knocking it away before it could cast a spell at Zamira.
Noticing a flicker of motion, Rob took one step towards Kismet. The god halted in place, his arm half-risen. They exchanged a long look. Kismet didn't want to restart their song and dance, and Rob didn't want to miss the show.
Eventually, the HUMAN let out a chuckle. He waggled his finger at his dance partner, as if admonishing an unruly toddler."LeT hER CoOK."
And cook she did. Unhindered, Zamira methodically dismantled her god. Cut by cut, and piece by piece, the deity was whittled down to a pale imitation of its former glory. Once or twice it managed to slightly graze her with an attack, but that was all.
Its fate had been sealed for a long time now.
"Lost Art: Eight-Pointed Jaws." Zamira hammered the god with a rapid flurry of blows. Each strike carved a line of mana into its body. When the eighth line had been unleashed, the god suddenly crumpled inward, as if it was being chomped on by the maw of an enormous beast.
Piteous screams melded with the sound of a Bladesoul readying her most powerful Skill. Its aura shone with a wicked silver glow, like a falling guillotine reflecting the sunlit rays of a new dawn.
"K-Kismet!" The god reached out to its leader with a trembling limb. "Please! Kism–"
"CREATED ART: GOD-SLAYING SWORD!"
She cut just once.
The god burnt away, leaving not even ashes in the wind.
Rob concentrated with Sense Mana. His mouth split into a feral grin when he searched for the god's essence and detected absolutely fucking nothing. It was gone. Kaput. Finito. Wouldn't have been possible without Kismet draining his own allies to save his skin, but he had, so here they were.
The HUMAN activated Purge Divinity and clenched his fist. He destroyed the essence fragment he'd ripped from Kismet, then fixed the god with a gaze of murderous finality.
"ChECkMaTE."
Kismet flinched, comprehension dawning on him as he envisioned how the rest of the battle would play out. Zamira didn't seem the least bit winded. She had plenty of gas left in the tank, and was currently heading over to team up with one of her allies and slay the next god.
With that in mind...the day's outcome had already been decided. Rob would keep Kismet busy. Riardin's Rangers would steadily clean up the lesser gods. Then, as a full Party, they would gang up on Kismet and beat the everloving shit out of him.
No fuss, no muss.
Kismet began to panic – then stopped, centering himself. He seemed to reach a decision, some plan formulating in his thoughts.
Defiance? Oh, that's adorable. The BERSERKER's grin grew so wide that it hurt. Let's make this a game. His hands pulsed brightly with Purging energy. Will I kill you before my Party members finish up on their end? We win either way, but hey! Can't have them do \all* the work–*
"Elder Alessia is dead."
Rob's breath caught in his throat.
She...what? He'd heard Kismet speak, but, no, that couldn't be–
"Elder Alessia is dead. Remember that I cannot lie."
He tried to respond. No words came out. It felt as if the world had vanished from underneath his feet.
"Elder Alessia is dead," Kismet repeated, for the third time. "She used Soul Burn to keep the Queen of Dragons at bay."
She...she used...
Rob hadn't seen Alessia when he went to check on Fiend territory. Didn't think anything of it. Wasn't like he looked everywhere. Figured he'd just missed her.
But she was...gone? Since Ragnavi? He'd spent days expunging Dungeons and Leviathans, gallivanting around Elatra like a fucking idiot, thinking that at least he'd prevented more people he cared about from dying, when the whole time, Alessia had been–
{BEHIND!}
The warning came far too late.
Even if it had come earlier, though, he still might not have dodged. Kismet's attack wasn't packed full of destructive magic like his other spells. Sense Mana didn't register it as a threat. Rob immediately cast Dauntless Reprisal on reflex, but that didn't help either.
Because this wasn't intended to damage him.
A surge of mana pierced Rob's back. An intense burning coursed through him, as if his veins and skin were simultaneously being set aflame. It was a sensation that, unfortunately, he recognized.
Kismet had directly infused his soul with mana.
This wasn't the first time. The gods had done it once before to refill Rob's Purging energy stores. In fact, although they'd warned him of the consequences, he'd pushed for it rather...vocally.
Despite being inflicted with Soul Instability as a result, Rob didn't regret his choice. Back then, it had been the key to finally ending the Second Will's appalling ambitions.
Now?
It was no better than adding ten tons of weight onto rotting support beams.
Rob fell to his knees. Agony and weakness suffused his body. He felt Purging energy swell within – for all the good it would serve him, because he couldn't move a muscle.
An unsurprising system notification popped into view.
Warning: Soul Instability has increased to High!
--
Thanks for reading!
2024.05.20 05:36 chillin2114_ Need help/direction to fix potential GoDaddy mistake EARLY
I need some help folks. I've finally taken the step past the brainstorming, note-taking, business planning, and I bought my domain for my business idea to just start MOVING and to FAIL FAST. .Well, I mighta done that already, lol. I got my domain off GoDaddy today, and I did buy a business e-mail (I think this is more of the part where I screwed up). I want heavy customization down the road for my website, because I am intending to have a sophisticated AI model involved in my website. To clarify, my "grand slam" vision for this would be to have millions of monthly visitors.
I am learning web development and stuff, and like I said, I don't want to stick to a cookie-cutter template for my website. My idea revolves around elegance and nice UI/UX.
Should I move my domain out of GoDaddy now to prevent future headaches? And if so, how do I go about dealing with this business e-mail I created? I am fine with eating a $25 cost, I am not fine with having to rebuild everything down the road, because I foolishly chose a scummy company to work with.
I know it may depend on my use-case, but any sort of direction or context for this would help. I still haven't purchased hosting for my domain either.
submitted by chillin2114_ to webdevelopment [link] [comments]
I am learning web development and stuff, and like I said, I don't want to stick to a cookie-cutter template for my website. My idea revolves around elegance and nice UI/UX.
Should I move my domain out of GoDaddy now to prevent future headaches? And if so, how do I go about dealing with this business e-mail I created? I am fine with eating a $25 cost, I am not fine with having to rebuild everything down the road, because I foolishly chose a scummy company to work with.
I know it may depend on my use-case, but any sort of direction or context for this would help. I still haven't purchased hosting for my domain either.
2024.05.20 05:23 chillin2114_ GoDaddy Mistake - Too late to fix?
I need some help folks. I've finally taken the step past the brainstorming, note-taking, business planning, and I bought my domain for my business idea to just start MOVING and to FAIL FAST. .Well, I mighta done that already, lol. I got my domain off GoDaddy today, and I did buy a business e-mail (I think this is more of the part where I screwed up). I want heavy customization down the road for my website, because I am intending to have a sophisticated AI model involved in my website. To clarify, my "grand slam" vision for this would be to have millions of monthly visitors.
I am learning web development and stuff, and like I said, I don't want to stick to a cookie-cutter template for my website. My idea revolves around elegance and nice UI/UX.
Should I move my domain out of GoDaddy now to prevent future headaches? And if so, how do I go about dealing with this business e-mail I created? I am fine with eating a $25 cost, I am not fine with having to rebuild everything down the road, because I foolishly chose a scummy company to work with.
I know it may depend on my use-case, but any sort of direction or context for this would help. I still haven't purchased hosting for my domain either.
submitted by chillin2114_ to Entrepreneur [link] [comments]
I am learning web development and stuff, and like I said, I don't want to stick to a cookie-cutter template for my website. My idea revolves around elegance and nice UI/UX.
Should I move my domain out of GoDaddy now to prevent future headaches? And if so, how do I go about dealing with this business e-mail I created? I am fine with eating a $25 cost, I am not fine with having to rebuild everything down the road, because I foolishly chose a scummy company to work with.
I know it may depend on my use-case, but any sort of direction or context for this would help. I still haven't purchased hosting for my domain either.
2024.05.20 05:17 harriskeith29 Why self-forgiveness was the key all along to Anakin Skywalker's redemption (fan analysis)
TLDR- Anakin Skywalker couldn't overcome Darth Vader or the Dark Side with the forgiveness of others. The only way to let go of his hate, return to the Light Side, and finally find peace was by forgiving himself.
From the moment he was first "consumed by Darth Vader", as Yoda put it, the greatest fundamental challenge for Anakin to return to the Light was never being forgiven by others. It wouldn't make enough difference if everyone he'd ever hurt or killed sincerely told him "I forgive you", if his mom appeared in a vision to console him, if Padme herself died still believing there was good in him, or even if his own son was willing to die believing there was good in him. Whatever they said or did wouldn't change his heart.
The core of Vader's hatred and pain was never about needing or wanting others' forgiveness or remorse, which is a major reason why he stayed a devout Sith for so long. Because the Sith's strength in the Force comes from their emotions, that way of life became an outlet for him to continue living in the personal Hell that, deep down, he thought he deserved (since all he had left for so long were self-imposed negative emotions). He was his own worst judge & critic. It wouldn't matter how much he did to atone for his crimes (except perhaps to the victims & their loved ones) if he still held himself in nothing but contempt.
In the Sith Lord's mind, even with all this power + the Empire's armies at his disposal, he felt like a failure who deserved his suffering. At every opportunity to repent, he chose to stay on the Sith's path because he didn't believe any other path was left to him. Quoting a review of the Darth Vader comics:
"The kyber crystal he’s trying to force into a Sith crystal, to crush its will beneath his own, fights back with throwing at him what Anakin Skywalker still wants to do, the right thing to do, saying that it’s still possible. It shows him that it’s still possible. But Vader refuses it. That path is no longer possible, it would go against everything he’s sacrificed to get where he is, his betrayal of the Jedi, his killing Padme (so he thinks), his turning his back on the Republic, the murders he’s committed, the monster he’s made himself, it would all have been for nothing if he turned back now. All he would have on that path is nothing, Vader thinks.
Never mind that he would have the right thing, never mind that Obi-Wan would see him as Anakin again and would have forgiven him, would have taken him back, never mind that he could have saved the galaxy from Sidious’ cruelty and horrors. Vader still forces himself to believe that all of that would be nothing. He has to keep moving forward, the sacrifices he made, the things he did and will do, have to be worth it, and that won’t happen on that other path. This new life is his only choice now. The only way out is through. This is all there is."
Vader was dead set on forcing this path to be worth everything he'd lost. He didn't believe he deserved any better after all he'd done. He convinced himself Anakin symbolized weakness from a failed past, but one could also interpret that he believed (even if he wouldn't admit it to himself) he was unworthy of the name.
Vader told Luke "There is no conflict. That name no longer has any meaning for me.", but the anger in his voice during that assertion suggested otherwise. The name Anakin Skywalker simultaneously served as: A) A reminder of his failure to save those closest to him. B) A reminder of when he had family, friends, and so much in his life to be grateful for (in spite of hardships & losses) that he took for granted. Self-loathing was all he understood anymore, and it was that hate that helped give him so much power even with his injuries.
The only way Anakin could find his way back to the Light, even for just one final self-sacrificial act, was to receive forgiveness from the most important person, the one at the root of his decades of hatred... HIMSELF. As long as that self-hatred continued fueling his immersion in the Dark Side, nobody could reach him regardless of who they were or how they approached the situation. Even when his inner conflict started to emerge thanks to Luke's influence, he still believed it was "too late" for him to turn back or be anything else.
He couldn't bear the thought of going back to the path of the Light when his most defining memory of being on it was when he betrayed everything/everyone that life had given him. For all these years, he adamantly believed he could have saved everyone if only he'd been stronger. If only he hadn't allowed the Jedi's dogma to hold him back from his full potential. That ambition led to him losing Padme. He may have even believed in some warped way that turning Luke (and/or Leia) to the Dark would allow them to be a family again.
Even if Luke killed Vader to take his place at Palpatine's side, they'd still be connected in that they'd be links in the chain of Sith history + legacy. It was only in the moment of seeing Luke about to be killed that Anakin finally broke through, screaming "ENOUGH! It's time to LET GO! Let go of the past, let go of your hate (echoing Luke)! Your family needs you! Your son needs you! He is the best of you and his mother! You're RIGHT HERE! You can make a different choice this time. It's NOT too late! You can still SAVE HIM! SAVE HIM!!!!!"
And so, at the cost of his life, he did. When Luke said "I'll not leave you here. I've got to save you." and his father replied "You already have. You were right about me.", Anakin was implying that Luke was right about letting go of hate. That would only be possible to do if Anakin forgave himself. THAT'S how he was able to die, ascend, and be reborn as a Force Ghost. THAT was the most vital step from the start to his redemption.
By accepting everything that had happened on his journey, acknowledging that the direction he went was wrong, realizing it was ultimately his own choice even when accounting for Palpatine's influence, and no longer letting his negative feelings hold him down, he'd finally achieved peace with himself and the Force.
submitted by harriskeith29 to StarWars [link] [comments]
From the moment he was first "consumed by Darth Vader", as Yoda put it, the greatest fundamental challenge for Anakin to return to the Light was never being forgiven by others. It wouldn't make enough difference if everyone he'd ever hurt or killed sincerely told him "I forgive you", if his mom appeared in a vision to console him, if Padme herself died still believing there was good in him, or even if his own son was willing to die believing there was good in him. Whatever they said or did wouldn't change his heart.
The core of Vader's hatred and pain was never about needing or wanting others' forgiveness or remorse, which is a major reason why he stayed a devout Sith for so long. Because the Sith's strength in the Force comes from their emotions, that way of life became an outlet for him to continue living in the personal Hell that, deep down, he thought he deserved (since all he had left for so long were self-imposed negative emotions). He was his own worst judge & critic. It wouldn't matter how much he did to atone for his crimes (except perhaps to the victims & their loved ones) if he still held himself in nothing but contempt.
In the Sith Lord's mind, even with all this power + the Empire's armies at his disposal, he felt like a failure who deserved his suffering. At every opportunity to repent, he chose to stay on the Sith's path because he didn't believe any other path was left to him. Quoting a review of the Darth Vader comics:
"The kyber crystal he’s trying to force into a Sith crystal, to crush its will beneath his own, fights back with throwing at him what Anakin Skywalker still wants to do, the right thing to do, saying that it’s still possible. It shows him that it’s still possible. But Vader refuses it. That path is no longer possible, it would go against everything he’s sacrificed to get where he is, his betrayal of the Jedi, his killing Padme (so he thinks), his turning his back on the Republic, the murders he’s committed, the monster he’s made himself, it would all have been for nothing if he turned back now. All he would have on that path is nothing, Vader thinks.
Never mind that he would have the right thing, never mind that Obi-Wan would see him as Anakin again and would have forgiven him, would have taken him back, never mind that he could have saved the galaxy from Sidious’ cruelty and horrors. Vader still forces himself to believe that all of that would be nothing. He has to keep moving forward, the sacrifices he made, the things he did and will do, have to be worth it, and that won’t happen on that other path. This new life is his only choice now. The only way out is through. This is all there is."
Vader was dead set on forcing this path to be worth everything he'd lost. He didn't believe he deserved any better after all he'd done. He convinced himself Anakin symbolized weakness from a failed past, but one could also interpret that he believed (even if he wouldn't admit it to himself) he was unworthy of the name.
Vader told Luke "There is no conflict. That name no longer has any meaning for me.", but the anger in his voice during that assertion suggested otherwise. The name Anakin Skywalker simultaneously served as: A) A reminder of his failure to save those closest to him. B) A reminder of when he had family, friends, and so much in his life to be grateful for (in spite of hardships & losses) that he took for granted. Self-loathing was all he understood anymore, and it was that hate that helped give him so much power even with his injuries.
The only way Anakin could find his way back to the Light, even for just one final self-sacrificial act, was to receive forgiveness from the most important person, the one at the root of his decades of hatred... HIMSELF. As long as that self-hatred continued fueling his immersion in the Dark Side, nobody could reach him regardless of who they were or how they approached the situation. Even when his inner conflict started to emerge thanks to Luke's influence, he still believed it was "too late" for him to turn back or be anything else.
He couldn't bear the thought of going back to the path of the Light when his most defining memory of being on it was when he betrayed everything/everyone that life had given him. For all these years, he adamantly believed he could have saved everyone if only he'd been stronger. If only he hadn't allowed the Jedi's dogma to hold him back from his full potential. That ambition led to him losing Padme. He may have even believed in some warped way that turning Luke (and/or Leia) to the Dark would allow them to be a family again.
Even if Luke killed Vader to take his place at Palpatine's side, they'd still be connected in that they'd be links in the chain of Sith history + legacy. It was only in the moment of seeing Luke about to be killed that Anakin finally broke through, screaming "ENOUGH! It's time to LET GO! Let go of the past, let go of your hate (echoing Luke)! Your family needs you! Your son needs you! He is the best of you and his mother! You're RIGHT HERE! You can make a different choice this time. It's NOT too late! You can still SAVE HIM! SAVE HIM!!!!!"
And so, at the cost of his life, he did. When Luke said "I'll not leave you here. I've got to save you." and his father replied "You already have. You were right about me.", Anakin was implying that Luke was right about letting go of hate. That would only be possible to do if Anakin forgave himself. THAT'S how he was able to die, ascend, and be reborn as a Force Ghost. THAT was the most vital step from the start to his redemption.
By accepting everything that had happened on his journey, acknowledging that the direction he went was wrong, realizing it was ultimately his own choice even when accounting for Palpatine's influence, and no longer letting his negative feelings hold him down, he'd finally achieved peace with himself and the Force.
2024.05.20 05:09 alex_yangster Thoughts on this
So there’s this situation where there’s this girl at work and when I first got the job, she was considered like my mini leader for this program and then we have like two program managers above her. I got to know her a bit more throughout my time at the job and even outside of work. We’ve worked out a couple of times and grabbed lunch or boba too. And it’s weird cause during that time she’s been dating some guy for two years. And then something happens two weeks ago with her boyfriend, but not exactly sure if they are still together cause she had some other coworker pick her up in downtown when it was 2AM in the morning. All she told me that one day when we were going to workout was that her boyfriend said he was tired of whatever this relationship is going and she said that she was tired too. And then two days after she became happy. Kinda sus to me for some reason lol. Oh and we’re 6 years apart (age wise). At times she calls me a nerd, but I don’t get offended cause it was really out of pocket and I just assumed maybe she’s interested and likes me? Oh and another thing is that, I’m an Asian American and she’s White, and she’s been to Taiwan for a year for college. She loves to speak Chinese to me when she can get the chance to speak Chinese with me. I recently had a party at my place invited my friends from work and from the gym. She brought some nonalcoholic drink and it was cool. It was interesting cause everytime I was near her and talking to someone, I could see in my peripheral vision that she would always be staring at me. She’d always laugh a lot at things I would do whether if it was me jumping up and down and enjoying the song that was bumping or if it was karaoke. We sang love story by Taylor Swift together and everytime the word “baby” would come up, she’d stare at me. After the party, she was like one of the last people to leave too. I drank some vodka (shots of it) and that hurt my stomach for a bit. She saw that I did that and was worried, but I told her that I was okay. When she got home she texted me and said she had a good time with this smiley face —> 😊 and she told me to be good and behave myself to not drink too much vodka again. The next morning I woke up got a text from her and she wanted to check up on me. I appreciated the message and sent her a thank you type message to her and didn’t think much of it. Last Thursday I planned a bit of a mini party, but two of my friends weren’t able to make it and I was going to text this girl we should hangout another time, but the door bell rang. I cooked us dinner and got some sushi too. She brought some wine too. She said that her relationship with her boyfriend is “in the rocks”. We played some video games and so basically this next part she was sitting on the floor and I was sitting on the couch cause she couldn’t see well so she had to sit on the floor to get closer to the TV. There was a moment where she touched my knee (for me I don’t really have interest in her and I don’t even know if she still with her boyfriend). And she playful hit me too. All of these are signs that I can see that she likes me, but she’s a very interesting person cause one day she’ll think I’m weird and then the next day she likes me and those days when she thinks I’m weird, I don’t think much of it because I don’t like her like that.
Do you guys think the way she brought some wine was some indication of wanting to go further in the night and get down with all that freak shit. Does she like calling me nerd because she thinks I have no game or she likes me? Just curious on what you guys think of this.
submitted by alex_yangster to dating_advice [link] [comments]
Do you guys think the way she brought some wine was some indication of wanting to go further in the night and get down with all that freak shit. Does she like calling me nerd because she thinks I have no game or she likes me? Just curious on what you guys think of this.
2024.05.20 04:23 smavinagain THEORY: New song is about dissociative amnesia and overcoming it (Memory merge)
Alright, so this is probably gonna be short because there's no lyrics yet and i have an auditory processing disorder BUT! I think I can make out what is being said (found the lyrics as i was writing the post, prepare for this to be a long one)
little background info: Amnesia is loss of memory, these can be experiences, facts about yourself, etc etc. Everyone knows that trope in fiction where guy hits their head and forgets who they are, that's generalized amnesia, super rare, usally it's more localized/selective (specific period of time or memories related to a specific thing). Dissociative Amnesia is the term for when amnesia has a psychological origin instead of a physical origin, usually caused by trauma or other intensely stressful events. I know a lot about that 'cus I got dissociative amnesia
ANYWAY
now that that has been explained, here is my EVIDENCE!
"Did it really happen or were they pieces thrown around, the past is built on lies and one word could break it down" not 100% sure I wrote that right, but whatever. I think this line could be about a false view of the past as a result of dissociative amnesia and that "one word" or piece of evidence could shatter that because they could realize they don't remember something (most people with dissociative amnesia don't realize what they don't remember unless it's pointed out)
"Floating recollections scanning for patterns to compare" This line seems to indicate the protagonist (speckle) can remember some things around the event/events/period of time that is forgotten and is trying to compare fragmented memories "floating recollections" to piece together what happened
"The sweetness of your face, and the tenderness of your warm embrace, somehow they left a bitter taste." I think this line indicates the dissociative amnesia was caused by a person, perhaps someone who caused severe stess/trauma after appearing to be nice.
"There's nothing to trace, painful times they were all erased"
I think this means that the painful memories (trauma/severe stress, maybe something else) were "erased" as is the thing that happens with dissociative amnesia
"And yet my body's screaming don't make the same mistakes"
I think this is talking about their behaviour still being influenced by the events, despite the lack of recall ability, as events that were forgotten with dissociative amnesia are not actually "lost" in the brain per say, but have been shown to often still influence behaviour even if they cannot be consciously recalled.
"Can I go ahead and surrender, to the visions that I just can't remember" This is an interesting one, some people who have past trauma they can't remember will have flashbacks that they can't remember the content of once they end (I would know, I get these)
"Reveal all the trauma I suffered I'll relive it all to be born much stronger"
I think this is about the dissociative amnesia being remembered/finding out about the events another way
"Then there's no way someone else can repeat What you did to me"
Sounds like the person is not wanting to get over the trauma and keep it in their head so they're always prepared for the future if/when something like that were to happen again
""Did that really happen?" Thoughts into voices now reshaped"
Perhaps doubting that it really happened if the dissociative amnesia hasn't fully lifted or simply denial?
"I wished for recovery But was given no escape"
This could be interpreted quite a few ways, could be that the person was unable to escape during the trauma (as is often the case with complex traumas, the type that is more likely to cause dissociative amnesia) or is unable to escape the memories of the trauma in their mind, perhaps both.
"Now I see through all your endeavours And the sinful scars that I'll hold forever"
I think this is about them being able to see through the person who caused the trauma's facade of niceness or something like that, and about the permanent mental scarring(or maybe physical too) as a result of the trauma
"Was there any chance for me to run Was there something different that I could've done"
Ruminating over the trauma/blaming self for it possibly.
"I'm left with a mangled mind that repeats What you did to me"
Sounds like it's talking about flashbacks/intrusive memories as a result of PTSD, and a "mangled mind" meaning all the consequences of that.
"There was a reason they were thrown away Why they were locked behind from my display"
Possible regret from finding out the memories? In therapy it's often approached very carefully as when the amnesia lifts a lot of terrible emotions can bubble up really fast.
"And now my memory's in disarray It forced a reinstall Remember to forget them all"
Not entirely sure what this means but maybe it's about still-existing gaps in memory because of the amnesia or the memories were remembered suddenly and "forced" back and now want to be forgotten again
That concludes my lengthy interpretation of "Memory Merge" by Yonkagor! Perhaps the music video releasing tomorrow will shine more light on what this means!
submitted by smavinagain to YonKaGor [link] [comments]
little background info: Amnesia is loss of memory, these can be experiences, facts about yourself, etc etc. Everyone knows that trope in fiction where guy hits their head and forgets who they are, that's generalized amnesia, super rare, usally it's more localized/selective (specific period of time or memories related to a specific thing). Dissociative Amnesia is the term for when amnesia has a psychological origin instead of a physical origin, usually caused by trauma or other intensely stressful events. I know a lot about that 'cus I got dissociative amnesia
ANYWAY
now that that has been explained, here is my EVIDENCE!
"Did it really happen or were they pieces thrown around, the past is built on lies and one word could break it down" not 100% sure I wrote that right, but whatever. I think this line could be about a false view of the past as a result of dissociative amnesia and that "one word" or piece of evidence could shatter that because they could realize they don't remember something (most people with dissociative amnesia don't realize what they don't remember unless it's pointed out)
"Floating recollections scanning for patterns to compare" This line seems to indicate the protagonist (speckle) can remember some things around the event/events/period of time that is forgotten and is trying to compare fragmented memories "floating recollections" to piece together what happened
"The sweetness of your face, and the tenderness of your warm embrace, somehow they left a bitter taste." I think this line indicates the dissociative amnesia was caused by a person, perhaps someone who caused severe stess/trauma after appearing to be nice.
"There's nothing to trace, painful times they were all erased"
I think this means that the painful memories (trauma/severe stress, maybe something else) were "erased" as is the thing that happens with dissociative amnesia
"And yet my body's screaming don't make the same mistakes"
I think this is talking about their behaviour still being influenced by the events, despite the lack of recall ability, as events that were forgotten with dissociative amnesia are not actually "lost" in the brain per say, but have been shown to often still influence behaviour even if they cannot be consciously recalled.
"Can I go ahead and surrender, to the visions that I just can't remember" This is an interesting one, some people who have past trauma they can't remember will have flashbacks that they can't remember the content of once they end (I would know, I get these)
"Reveal all the trauma I suffered I'll relive it all to be born much stronger"
I think this is about the dissociative amnesia being remembered/finding out about the events another way
"Then there's no way someone else can repeat What you did to me"
Sounds like the person is not wanting to get over the trauma and keep it in their head so they're always prepared for the future if/when something like that were to happen again
""Did that really happen?" Thoughts into voices now reshaped"
Perhaps doubting that it really happened if the dissociative amnesia hasn't fully lifted or simply denial?
"I wished for recovery But was given no escape"
This could be interpreted quite a few ways, could be that the person was unable to escape during the trauma (as is often the case with complex traumas, the type that is more likely to cause dissociative amnesia) or is unable to escape the memories of the trauma in their mind, perhaps both.
"Now I see through all your endeavours And the sinful scars that I'll hold forever"
I think this is about them being able to see through the person who caused the trauma's facade of niceness or something like that, and about the permanent mental scarring(or maybe physical too) as a result of the trauma
"Was there any chance for me to run Was there something different that I could've done"
Ruminating over the trauma/blaming self for it possibly.
"I'm left with a mangled mind that repeats What you did to me"
Sounds like it's talking about flashbacks/intrusive memories as a result of PTSD, and a "mangled mind" meaning all the consequences of that.
"There was a reason they were thrown away Why they were locked behind from my display"
Possible regret from finding out the memories? In therapy it's often approached very carefully as when the amnesia lifts a lot of terrible emotions can bubble up really fast.
"And now my memory's in disarray It forced a reinstall Remember to forget them all"
Not entirely sure what this means but maybe it's about still-existing gaps in memory because of the amnesia or the memories were remembered suddenly and "forced" back and now want to be forgotten again
That concludes my lengthy interpretation of "Memory Merge" by Yonkagor! Perhaps the music video releasing tomorrow will shine more light on what this means!
2024.05.20 04:17 Stephersyas Scorpio man stands behind me a lot?
There’s a Scorpio man I work with who stands behind me frequently. There’s been at least four separate occasions where I turn around and I can see him standing right behind me from my peripheral vision. Recently he was standing behind me but initiated conversation. I didn’t even realize he was there the whole time. We don’t know each other very well, but I sense he’s aware of me. I actually don’t mind considering he’s pretty cute, but do any of you Scorpios do this too? His energy feels quite dominant in a good way. Intense but not overbearing. I recall I was walking back to my department and like a magnet he attached himself next to me and walked along side of me before getting behind me. Perhaps he wanted to say something and changed his mind. Again, it’s appealing because I find him attractive, but oh man. 😅
submitted by Stephersyas to Scorpio [link] [comments]
2024.05.20 04:09 thegreatestmeicanbe The thing that annoys me most about horror/thriller movies...
With slasher flicks especially but I've seen it in other genres, is the character's total lack of peripheral vision. I know it's played up for the movie but damn it annoys me. How can you not see the killer right there?!
I saw The Strangers: Chapter 1 yesterday and it's full of that...thus, the rant.
submitted by thegreatestmeicanbe to horror [link] [comments]
I saw The Strangers: Chapter 1 yesterday and it's full of that...thus, the rant.
2024.05.20 04:02 goBerserk_ Project Napoleon Chapter 5
First Previous Next
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.”
submitted by goBerserk_ to HFY [link] [comments]
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 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.”
2024.05.20 04:01 Muted-Willingness854 Calling out younger people with subarachnoid hemorrhages
I’m an 18 year old male and I had a subarachnoid hemorrhage almost 2 months ago. I fell out of my dorm bed while sleeping one morning (8am sunday) and fell onto the hard wood floor. When I woke up on the floor, I didn’t feel any pain in my head, so I went back to sleep. At 11:45pm on monday immediately after finishing a workout, it hit me like a bus. Partial loss of vision, unable to stand, complete loss of strength and uncontrollable puking. My friend took me to the ER, where I was transferred and had non-invasive surgery. They sacrificed an artery and coiled the aneurysm.
In the hospital and immediately after getting released, I had extreme pain in my tailbone, hamstrings and glutes that caused me to struggle to walk and sit. Constant head pains and daily restrictions have made me feel like I’m not myself. Luckily, the head aches are not as bad anymore and the hamstring pain is infrequent, but I live in fear about my future.
I’m extremely passionate about lifting weights and have played sports my entire life, but I’m paranoid that if I return to weightlifting that it’ll rebleed and I’ll have to go back to the hospital or possibly die. I’m also really nervous about “being normal” again and everything makes me paranoid of a rebleed.
I say all this because I want to hear from other younger people who have had a SAH, and how they’ve returned to life. Along with that, are my emotions/concerns are normal, and are they irrational?
submitted by Muted-Willingness854 to BrainAneurysm [link] [comments]
In the hospital and immediately after getting released, I had extreme pain in my tailbone, hamstrings and glutes that caused me to struggle to walk and sit. Constant head pains and daily restrictions have made me feel like I’m not myself. Luckily, the head aches are not as bad anymore and the hamstring pain is infrequent, but I live in fear about my future.
I’m extremely passionate about lifting weights and have played sports my entire life, but I’m paranoid that if I return to weightlifting that it’ll rebleed and I’ll have to go back to the hospital or possibly die. I’m also really nervous about “being normal” again and everything makes me paranoid of a rebleed.
I say all this because I want to hear from other younger people who have had a SAH, and how they’ve returned to life. Along with that, are my emotions/concerns are normal, and are they irrational?
2024.05.20 03:53 antheiheiant Feeling really rattled for the first time
Hi all,
First of all: My fullest respect to all ER workers and emergency service workers. You lot are a amazing.
I do wanna preface this by saying that I am neither. I work in the medical department of a football (soccer) club, so I'm there in the emergency, but also long term after. Hope I'm still good to post here. (the flair Advice would have worked as well tbf)
Needless to say, most things we do are orthopedic issues, traumatic injuries, surgery, general sports medicine etc.., you get the gist. We are sort of the general practitioners for these guys too though. If they have a medical issue of any sort, they'll usually come to us first, so we do have a bit of experience in other fields too. Extreme examples: This season we had a case of myocarditis and a case of sepsis. Sepsis was caught early with no long term consequences, but the guy (only 19) with myocarditis had severe complications. He's had a heart attack, spent a week in a coma and now has a pacemaker. Seeing this young guy struggle to get up from the breakfast table and take the five steps over to the buffet is heartbreaking. And in hindsight, it's probably bothering me more than it should have. Doesn't help that the likely cause is a direct misjudgement on our part, when we cleared him for training too soon after a viral infection.
So I've kinda been carrying this around me for a while and there are a few other private and work related issues that have caused me to be burned out a bit. And as life sometimes does, it just threw me the two most extreme workdays possible in my profession.
To paint the scene: I'm stood on the training pitch just observing. I hear a blood curdling scream from another pitch. I grab my shit and haul ass over there. What meets me there is an open fracture of both tibia and fibula. But not just any open broken leg fracture, best I can describe it is that his leg nearly amputated. It was hanging on by a big patch of skin, part of his muscles, like two tendons and miraculously, a handful of blood vessels. People were vomiting and dry heaving at the sight. You could have run anatomy course there. We put a tournequet on, dance the usual dance of what/how much analgesics and/or anaesthetics to give someone who's clearly lost a lot of blood. Decided that this is a case for the air ambulance and ultimately somehow managed to stabilize the leg without cutting of the last blood supply. It was a feat. Surgery (one of many) went well and he's doing well considering the circumstances. I still don't know how this happened btw. We do film every training, but nobody has been brave enough to watch that scene yet. The lad who (of course accidentally) did this to him is still inconsolable.
Next day on the training pitch, I hear a sound anyone in my concrete profession fears. A clash of heads and a good one at that. I turn around to find two people on the floor. One moving and clearly just dazed, the other one fully unconcious and not moving. I grab my shit and haul ass over there again. Upon closer inspection I notice blood running out of one of his ears and his mouth, a clear liquid running out of his nose and a dropping face. Not ideal. When he came back around he slurred his words, was extremely confused, complained of a bad headache and nausea, hearing and vision loss on one side and then started vomiting. Not forgetting the racoon eyes. Anyways - We got to call the air ambulance again. And if you guessed severe intracranial injuries and a basilar skull fracture, you are absolutely correct. He'll get surgery as soon as the swelling has gone down enough. The really heartbreaking part was when he didn't recognize his mother, who was watching the training and in absolute hysterics, anymore. Again, it was bad luck and nothing else, but the player that was involved in the head duel is devastated.
And I've come to realise - So am I. It should not affect me so much, but it does. These were two extreme unprecedented days for me and the entire medical team (cue the ER nurses laughing), but everyone else seems to have moved past it. But it's such a different story when they aren't strangers, but you see them every day and they are your friends. Rationally, I know I'm a bit burned out, hence why it affects me so much, which is scary to me.
I love my job and I usually bring 200% of enthusiasm to work every day, so this is truly the first time I ever felt this way. But I know I'm not the only one who's felt like this before. Do you have any advice on how I could get myself up and going again?
submitted by antheiheiant to emergencymedicine [link] [comments]
First of all: My fullest respect to all ER workers and emergency service workers. You lot are a amazing.
I do wanna preface this by saying that I am neither. I work in the medical department of a football (soccer) club, so I'm there in the emergency, but also long term after. Hope I'm still good to post here. (the flair Advice would have worked as well tbf)
Needless to say, most things we do are orthopedic issues, traumatic injuries, surgery, general sports medicine etc.., you get the gist. We are sort of the general practitioners for these guys too though. If they have a medical issue of any sort, they'll usually come to us first, so we do have a bit of experience in other fields too. Extreme examples: This season we had a case of myocarditis and a case of sepsis. Sepsis was caught early with no long term consequences, but the guy (only 19) with myocarditis had severe complications. He's had a heart attack, spent a week in a coma and now has a pacemaker. Seeing this young guy struggle to get up from the breakfast table and take the five steps over to the buffet is heartbreaking. And in hindsight, it's probably bothering me more than it should have. Doesn't help that the likely cause is a direct misjudgement on our part, when we cleared him for training too soon after a viral infection.
So I've kinda been carrying this around me for a while and there are a few other private and work related issues that have caused me to be burned out a bit. And as life sometimes does, it just threw me the two most extreme workdays possible in my profession.
To paint the scene: I'm stood on the training pitch just observing. I hear a blood curdling scream from another pitch. I grab my shit and haul ass over there. What meets me there is an open fracture of both tibia and fibula. But not just any open broken leg fracture, best I can describe it is that his leg nearly amputated. It was hanging on by a big patch of skin, part of his muscles, like two tendons and miraculously, a handful of blood vessels. People were vomiting and dry heaving at the sight. You could have run anatomy course there. We put a tournequet on, dance the usual dance of what/how much analgesics and/or anaesthetics to give someone who's clearly lost a lot of blood. Decided that this is a case for the air ambulance and ultimately somehow managed to stabilize the leg without cutting of the last blood supply. It was a feat. Surgery (one of many) went well and he's doing well considering the circumstances. I still don't know how this happened btw. We do film every training, but nobody has been brave enough to watch that scene yet. The lad who (of course accidentally) did this to him is still inconsolable.
Next day on the training pitch, I hear a sound anyone in my concrete profession fears. A clash of heads and a good one at that. I turn around to find two people on the floor. One moving and clearly just dazed, the other one fully unconcious and not moving. I grab my shit and haul ass over there again. Upon closer inspection I notice blood running out of one of his ears and his mouth, a clear liquid running out of his nose and a dropping face. Not ideal. When he came back around he slurred his words, was extremely confused, complained of a bad headache and nausea, hearing and vision loss on one side and then started vomiting. Not forgetting the racoon eyes. Anyways - We got to call the air ambulance again. And if you guessed severe intracranial injuries and a basilar skull fracture, you are absolutely correct. He'll get surgery as soon as the swelling has gone down enough. The really heartbreaking part was when he didn't recognize his mother, who was watching the training and in absolute hysterics, anymore. Again, it was bad luck and nothing else, but the player that was involved in the head duel is devastated.
And I've come to realise - So am I. It should not affect me so much, but it does. These were two extreme unprecedented days for me and the entire medical team (cue the ER nurses laughing), but everyone else seems to have moved past it. But it's such a different story when they aren't strangers, but you see them every day and they are your friends. Rationally, I know I'm a bit burned out, hence why it affects me so much, which is scary to me.
I love my job and I usually bring 200% of enthusiasm to work every day, so this is truly the first time I ever felt this way. But I know I'm not the only one who's felt like this before. Do you have any advice on how I could get myself up and going again?
2024.05.20 03:47 Ok_Marsupial9182 advice?
hii,
so last week i made a post about side effects, my doctor advised i stopped taking them until they went away, then to try again once ready
so it's been 5 days now and i decided to start again on 2.5mg again and this time the symptom is more my actual vision which is stressing me out massively.
so i took the med as usual, it got to around 10pm and my vision started to feel worse (i do suffer with general vision anxiety often) and so i thought nothing of it and now it's just gradually got worse but i don't know why with it being such a small dose! my vision has since gone foggy like, it feels like my eyes are very watery when i don't think they are (i get dry eye quite often) and usually use eyedrops to help this. and so i've been putting a few drops in where ever, but now i can't focus my eyes properly and it feels like i have tunnel vision or some sort. i suffer with a lot of glare in my eyes because of anxiety, but it has worsened since then and everything is either bright or blurry. i've had the odd headache which i know is standard and some eye discomfort in which i took paracetamol and that took that pain away easily. but now i have this weird blurred vision that isnt shifting and is stressing me out, some slight double vision. i currently have blepharitis too so i'm not sure if it's that or something else, but i have been washing my eyelids often to keep on top of it, it's like..my eyes feel cloudy or some sort as well as not being able to focus. ive tried eyedrops as mentioned and wiping my eyes also but nothing...
it's late in the night and this is making me so anxious because it's late and i don't know what to do with this
my eyes were dilated but i think theyve gone back to normal since then
any advice? thank you!
submitted by Ok_Marsupial9182 to lexapro [link] [comments]
so last week i made a post about side effects, my doctor advised i stopped taking them until they went away, then to try again once ready
so it's been 5 days now and i decided to start again on 2.5mg again and this time the symptom is more my actual vision which is stressing me out massively.
so i took the med as usual, it got to around 10pm and my vision started to feel worse (i do suffer with general vision anxiety often) and so i thought nothing of it and now it's just gradually got worse but i don't know why with it being such a small dose! my vision has since gone foggy like, it feels like my eyes are very watery when i don't think they are (i get dry eye quite often) and usually use eyedrops to help this. and so i've been putting a few drops in where ever, but now i can't focus my eyes properly and it feels like i have tunnel vision or some sort. i suffer with a lot of glare in my eyes because of anxiety, but it has worsened since then and everything is either bright or blurry. i've had the odd headache which i know is standard and some eye discomfort in which i took paracetamol and that took that pain away easily. but now i have this weird blurred vision that isnt shifting and is stressing me out, some slight double vision. i currently have blepharitis too so i'm not sure if it's that or something else, but i have been washing my eyelids often to keep on top of it, it's like..my eyes feel cloudy or some sort as well as not being able to focus. ive tried eyedrops as mentioned and wiping my eyes also but nothing...
it's late in the night and this is making me so anxious because it's late and i don't know what to do with this
my eyes were dilated but i think theyve gone back to normal since then
any advice? thank you!
2024.05.20 03:40 Middle_Ad9004 It’s as long as you want it to take
Seeing to many folks on here asking how long it took one to become profitable and the truth is- it’s as long as you want it to take.
Going fast doesn’t mean better but learning efficiently means more.
Find a strategy and sharpen it, remember that a dull blade will do nothing more then a razor sharp one.
Collect data of losses and wins but focus more on wins to see what you’re doing right, focusing on losses stretches your vision thin, there could be a million things going wrong and that is far more difficult to identify then what you’re doing right -repeatedly.
Be persistent and don’t stop showing up regardless of the results at the end of the day.
Declutter your mind, free up storage for room of what you need to become successful- this will help you retain more important information and less useless information.
Set goals, specify what you want, how you will get it, what you’re willing to give up in order to achieve it and set a realistic date on it. Read this in the morning when starting up and at night before resting.
Have conviction in your goals, show up everyday, put in the reps and develop a bulletproof mindset for success and you will achieve what you want, when you want it.
Many cheers to all, you are the captain- don’t sink your own ship, give it a chance to sail.
submitted by Middle_Ad9004 to Daytrading [link] [comments]
Going fast doesn’t mean better but learning efficiently means more.
Find a strategy and sharpen it, remember that a dull blade will do nothing more then a razor sharp one.
Collect data of losses and wins but focus more on wins to see what you’re doing right, focusing on losses stretches your vision thin, there could be a million things going wrong and that is far more difficult to identify then what you’re doing right -repeatedly.
Be persistent and don’t stop showing up regardless of the results at the end of the day.
Declutter your mind, free up storage for room of what you need to become successful- this will help you retain more important information and less useless information.
Set goals, specify what you want, how you will get it, what you’re willing to give up in order to achieve it and set a realistic date on it. Read this in the morning when starting up and at night before resting.
Have conviction in your goals, show up everyday, put in the reps and develop a bulletproof mindset for success and you will achieve what you want, when you want it.
Many cheers to all, you are the captain- don’t sink your own ship, give it a chance to sail.
2024.05.20 03:39 BeyondTurbulent35 The story explain my current situation, need help!
I want to keep the story in short,
I had several eyecontacts with a girl in the bus, so I said “Hii “to her one day, her reaction was like “what?”
So I thought it is all in my mind and moved on, after that I started ignoring her but she was still looking at me and talking about me with her friends( with the help of peripheral vision), at frist I thought she is probably saying to her friends like look that creepy guy who approached me. But one week, two week and third week, I felt like she was keep looking at me, I felt like she wants to talk to me.
So I started give her attention again, we had eyecontacts again, I also saw she tried to be near me in bus. But I did not approach because I do not know she likes me or not.
After two week, when she started ignoring me again, I thought I have to find out what is going on, and I approached her again, and she said no.
At present, I am ignoring her for a year now, my friend is telling she is checking me out many times.
The thing she gives single like there is something between us but when I approached, she acted like she does not even know me.
I want to hear your thoughts guys on this.
submitted by BeyondTurbulent35 to dating [link] [comments]
I had several eyecontacts with a girl in the bus, so I said “Hii “to her one day, her reaction was like “what?”
So I thought it is all in my mind and moved on, after that I started ignoring her but she was still looking at me and talking about me with her friends( with the help of peripheral vision), at frist I thought she is probably saying to her friends like look that creepy guy who approached me. But one week, two week and third week, I felt like she was keep looking at me, I felt like she wants to talk to me.
So I started give her attention again, we had eyecontacts again, I also saw she tried to be near me in bus. But I did not approach because I do not know she likes me or not.
After two week, when she started ignoring me again, I thought I have to find out what is going on, and I approached her again, and she said no.
At present, I am ignoring her for a year now, my friend is telling she is checking me out many times.
The thing she gives single like there is something between us but when I approached, she acted like she does not even know me.
I want to hear your thoughts guys on this.
2024.05.20 03:37 BeyondTurbulent35 Need help in my current situation, please read the whole story.
I want to keep the story in short,
I had several eyecontacts with a girl in the bus, so I said “Hii “to her one day, her reaction was like “what?”
So I thought it is all in my mind and moved on, after that I started ignoring her but she was still looking at me and talking about me with her friends( with the help of peripheral vision), at frist I thought she is probably saying to her friends like look that creepy guy who approached me. But one week, two week and third week, I felt like she was keep looking at me, I felt like she wants to talk to me.
So I started give her attention again, we had eyecontacts again, I aslo saw she tried to be near me in bus. But I did not approach because I do not know she likes me or not.
After two week, when she started ignoring me again, I thought I have to find out what is going on, and I approached her again, and she said no.
At present, I am ignoring her for a year now, my friend is telling she is checking me out many times.
The thing she gives single like there is something between us but when I approached, she acted like she does not even know me.
I want to hear your thoughts guys on this.
submitted by BeyondTurbulent35 to Crushes [link] [comments]
I had several eyecontacts with a girl in the bus, so I said “Hii “to her one day, her reaction was like “what?”
So I thought it is all in my mind and moved on, after that I started ignoring her but she was still looking at me and talking about me with her friends( with the help of peripheral vision), at frist I thought she is probably saying to her friends like look that creepy guy who approached me. But one week, two week and third week, I felt like she was keep looking at me, I felt like she wants to talk to me.
So I started give her attention again, we had eyecontacts again, I aslo saw she tried to be near me in bus. But I did not approach because I do not know she likes me or not.
After two week, when she started ignoring me again, I thought I have to find out what is going on, and I approached her again, and she said no.
At present, I am ignoring her for a year now, my friend is telling she is checking me out many times.
The thing she gives single like there is something between us but when I approached, she acted like she does not even know me.
I want to hear your thoughts guys on this.
2024.05.20 03:19 Reddit_Gabordo I practice medicine at a rural area
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.
"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...
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:
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.
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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
END2024.05.20 02:44 Jake_CB I’ve failed my best friend
I had a 5.5 year old white German Shepherd. One night I came home from work and he was not eating, the next day he still hadn’t eaten anything. Later that night his neck and face were incredibly swollen so I rushed him to the emergency vet. The vet sedated him and examined his throat and showed me that his tonsils were the size of golf balls. They also ultrasound and aspirated his swollen neck but nothing was shown. They sent me home with antibiotics and anti inflammatory saying that if it does not get better that it could be an abscess due to a foreign body such as a fox tail weed which we do have in our yard or an allergic reaction and we should plan CT/Exploratory surgery and told me it could be around 3k for those before treatment and stay. The diagnosis at the time was majority cellulitis.
During the course of his medicine he improved greatly. His facial swelling went down, he started acting normal, eating as usual, but his throat swelling was still present.
After the medicine was finished he was still good until 2 days later his eyes looked a little red. I planned on going to a standard vet that was 2 days out because he was still playing, eating, etc. The next day I came home and his eyes were half red and looked to be filled with blood. I was freaking out and noticed he was, what I thought at the time lethargic and also not eating again.
I brought him back to the emergency vet (about a week after initial visit) and as soon as I walked in they told me he was blind (bilateral hyphema) and my heart sank, I could only think if I brought him in the previous day then maybe his vision could’ve been saved as he could see 24 hours prior. Shortly after telling me that, the vet immediately told me it doesn’t look good. He had a fever of 105.9 and the swelling in his neck was firm as a rock. She first said it could very well be cancer. The inflammation was so bad it caused the bleeding in his eyes. She then told me they couldn’t do anything because they didn’t have a CT machine there but decided to x ray him anyway. Nothing showed up.
After the x ray the vet just looked at me. She told me that she read in my report that I couldn’t really afford a CT scan and the future surgery and that she could prescribe me another round of medicine to give it one last shot and to think about “quality of life” during that week. I immediately knew what that meant and I lost it. Man in his 30s crying for the first time in a while in front of all these people. She then proceeded to tell me that “It would be an alright choice to put him to sleep now.”
It was a blur, she kind of just guided me in there and it started happening, placing IV etc... Honestly I can’t even remember if I said anything or shook my head a certain way to result in this but I went along anyway thinking is was the right thing. Anyway, 30 minutes later he was peacefully, permanently, asleep in my arm. Then I just walked out with his collar that I came in with and left him. My shirt covered in his hair and slobber…
I feel an incredible amount of guilt. He was purely innocent and so happy. Playing ball with me not even 24 hours prior. It was true I didn’t have money to pays for the thousands in vet bills. I have a stay at home wife and a 1 year old and 3 year old boy and didn’t have the type of money I had prior to all of that… but the thing is I had him first and he didn’t ask for any of this. Looking back I should have sold my car and took a bus to work or something to just try the CT. I cannot believe I let him go so easily.
I don’t know why I’m posting this. I guess I think that someone should know what I’ve done.
Sorry.
submitted by Jake_CB to Petloss [link] [comments]
During the course of his medicine he improved greatly. His facial swelling went down, he started acting normal, eating as usual, but his throat swelling was still present.
After the medicine was finished he was still good until 2 days later his eyes looked a little red. I planned on going to a standard vet that was 2 days out because he was still playing, eating, etc. The next day I came home and his eyes were half red and looked to be filled with blood. I was freaking out and noticed he was, what I thought at the time lethargic and also not eating again.
I brought him back to the emergency vet (about a week after initial visit) and as soon as I walked in they told me he was blind (bilateral hyphema) and my heart sank, I could only think if I brought him in the previous day then maybe his vision could’ve been saved as he could see 24 hours prior. Shortly after telling me that, the vet immediately told me it doesn’t look good. He had a fever of 105.9 and the swelling in his neck was firm as a rock. She first said it could very well be cancer. The inflammation was so bad it caused the bleeding in his eyes. She then told me they couldn’t do anything because they didn’t have a CT machine there but decided to x ray him anyway. Nothing showed up.
After the x ray the vet just looked at me. She told me that she read in my report that I couldn’t really afford a CT scan and the future surgery and that she could prescribe me another round of medicine to give it one last shot and to think about “quality of life” during that week. I immediately knew what that meant and I lost it. Man in his 30s crying for the first time in a while in front of all these people. She then proceeded to tell me that “It would be an alright choice to put him to sleep now.”
It was a blur, she kind of just guided me in there and it started happening, placing IV etc... Honestly I can’t even remember if I said anything or shook my head a certain way to result in this but I went along anyway thinking is was the right thing. Anyway, 30 minutes later he was peacefully, permanently, asleep in my arm. Then I just walked out with his collar that I came in with and left him. My shirt covered in his hair and slobber…
I feel an incredible amount of guilt. He was purely innocent and so happy. Playing ball with me not even 24 hours prior. It was true I didn’t have money to pays for the thousands in vet bills. I have a stay at home wife and a 1 year old and 3 year old boy and didn’t have the type of money I had prior to all of that… but the thing is I had him first and he didn’t ask for any of this. Looking back I should have sold my car and took a bus to work or something to just try the CT. I cannot believe I let him go so easily.
I don’t know why I’m posting this. I guess I think that someone should know what I’ve done.
Sorry.
2024.05.20 02:38 ithurtswhenip6996 Help with heart/lung issue. Please.
Hello everyone. 24, Male, 270lbs, 5'11", quit smoking like 2-3 months ago.
So I'll start from the beginning. On June 22nd 2023 I moved to USA from a country in Europe. Everything ok at first, no issues at all. Used to live with a couple of people and it was all good. On October 1st I moved to another state where i was alone.
It was around March when I started feeling dizzy, vision was "blurry" like my peripheral vision was somehow bothering me and I was tired. I've been to an Urgent Care where they took some blood samples and did an XRAY of my chest. I posted pics with them but they looked like they are okay (normal for a 270lbs man).
After, I went to a cardiologist that did an echocardiogram and an EKG. He said everything is fine and gave me some Meclizine 12.5mg for dizziness.
Went to get my eyes checked for my peripheral vision and they said it's also okay. When I try to read something I just lose my focus also.
A week went by and some friends from my country visited me. During their stay I felt nothing, it felt like I had zero issues. They left and time passed by. Last week, May 10th I got a bit sick, with a sore throat, I lost my voice for like a day or two, had a little bit of fever but felt better after.
The problem now is the following. My blood pressure (I've been monitoring it home) ranges from 120/70 to 150/90(for example when I take it the first time might be 150/90 but after 5 minutes it can be 140/80 for example). My throat goes sore like I'm hoarse before going to sleep and when I wake up, but during the day is ok. I have crazy shortness of breath now, my eyes are again bothering me like I feel that something it's not normal.
When I do some effort, even the slightly effort I just can't breathe. Yesterday I went up 10 stairs, down 10 stairs and lost my breath. Went back in the apartment so I can take my blood pressure out of curiosity when I couldn't breathe and it was 180/99/89. When I do workout in the gym, the first minute cuts my breath but then I am not tired at all, I am okay and I can breathe normally, it's only that I'm just yawning quite frequently. After the stairs incident yesterday, been to the gym, did my workout cardio, climbed 11 floors and 5 min after my workout I took my blood pressure and it was around 140/80 (forgot to save it). Also when I press with my finger in the middle of my sternum, kinda hurts a bit but it feels like it's the bone that hurts from the pressure.
I will post pics with the EKG, Echo, Carotid Duplex, Blood Samples, everything.
People told me it's literally from anxiety/stress since I am alone and so far away from family. What should I do? The shortness of breath that I have right now I can really feel it, and it's bothering me so much.
BTW, I want to mention that I have a cat and we live in the same room, but I don't think it's from the cat.
Thank you very much!
There are the pictures with everything.
submitted by ithurtswhenip6996 to DiagnoseMe [link] [comments]
So I'll start from the beginning. On June 22nd 2023 I moved to USA from a country in Europe. Everything ok at first, no issues at all. Used to live with a couple of people and it was all good. On October 1st I moved to another state where i was alone.
It was around March when I started feeling dizzy, vision was "blurry" like my peripheral vision was somehow bothering me and I was tired. I've been to an Urgent Care where they took some blood samples and did an XRAY of my chest. I posted pics with them but they looked like they are okay (normal for a 270lbs man).
After, I went to a cardiologist that did an echocardiogram and an EKG. He said everything is fine and gave me some Meclizine 12.5mg for dizziness.
Went to get my eyes checked for my peripheral vision and they said it's also okay. When I try to read something I just lose my focus also.
A week went by and some friends from my country visited me. During their stay I felt nothing, it felt like I had zero issues. They left and time passed by. Last week, May 10th I got a bit sick, with a sore throat, I lost my voice for like a day or two, had a little bit of fever but felt better after.
The problem now is the following. My blood pressure (I've been monitoring it home) ranges from 120/70 to 150/90(for example when I take it the first time might be 150/90 but after 5 minutes it can be 140/80 for example). My throat goes sore like I'm hoarse before going to sleep and when I wake up, but during the day is ok. I have crazy shortness of breath now, my eyes are again bothering me like I feel that something it's not normal.
When I do some effort, even the slightly effort I just can't breathe. Yesterday I went up 10 stairs, down 10 stairs and lost my breath. Went back in the apartment so I can take my blood pressure out of curiosity when I couldn't breathe and it was 180/99/89. When I do workout in the gym, the first minute cuts my breath but then I am not tired at all, I am okay and I can breathe normally, it's only that I'm just yawning quite frequently. After the stairs incident yesterday, been to the gym, did my workout cardio, climbed 11 floors and 5 min after my workout I took my blood pressure and it was around 140/80 (forgot to save it). Also when I press with my finger in the middle of my sternum, kinda hurts a bit but it feels like it's the bone that hurts from the pressure.
I will post pics with the EKG, Echo, Carotid Duplex, Blood Samples, everything.
People told me it's literally from anxiety/stress since I am alone and so far away from family. What should I do? The shortness of breath that I have right now I can really feel it, and it's bothering me so much.
BTW, I want to mention that I have a cat and we live in the same room, but I don't think it's from the cat.
Thank you very much!
There are the pictures with everything.
2024.05.20 02:29 Designer_Win_5644 Advice on ROP/ Laser Surgery
My LO is a 24 weeker, currently 47 weeks and on home oxygen support (1/8 L). His last 3 ROP evaluations stayed the same - Zone 2 and Stage 2. Even though his ROP haven't progressed from last few months, Opthamologist felt its getting hard to evaluate him without putting him on anesthesia. As there is a risk of putting him on anesthesia every 2-3 weeks with still requiring Oxygen, he wants to evaluate and perform Laser Surgery next time - even though ROP still haven't progressed. 1. I'm concerned about getting Laser surgery (long term impacts to peripheral vision) when it's not required, but understand where his ROP doctor is coming from and he doesnt think injections would do anything for him. Did anyone go through similar situation and had other alternatives that worked out ? 2. What long term consequences did you guys notice for having laser Surgery for your LO and what short term issues did you encounter being on Oxygen support.
submitted by Designer_Win_5644 to NICUParents [link] [comments]
2024.05.20 02:23 NotSoSlimShady1001 The Spirit of a Predator - Chapter 25: An Open Door
[ First / Previous ]
Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.
The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans, as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
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submitted by NotSoSlimShady1001 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.
The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans, as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
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2024.05.20 02:17 MonkRX Is it time? Losing Radar for Tesla Vision + FSD v12
 | Version 2021.24.11 here. Should I upgrade? submitted by MonkRX to TeslaModel3 [link] [comments] What do I lose, what do I gain? I've been avoiding Tesla Vision because of the initial loss in AP performance. But I've demoed FSD 12 and it seems amazing. What features do we think regressed or advanced that makes the jump worth or not? I've noticed things like, unable to play games while driving is a thing. Loss of radar, loss of 90mph speed limit. There are other things that are "dead" on my version - Netflix/Disney/Amazon all require a "newer browser" to play - smart summon doesn't work (does not connect) - is this for the entire fleet or just older SW versions? There are also nice things like - no nags when looking away from the road - is this a really big deal on the newer versions? https://preview.redd.it/t41i84zm5h1d1.jpg?width=1735&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ab499d4a089596b558c995f88a8f89dc498d5996 |