If you clicked on this because you were angry about a whiney liberal or in agreement with the title, please take a few breaths. We are all the same and there is no good that will come of fighting and not hearing each other out. It is okay to disagree. So please I would like a real discussion.
I am a traditional conservative type of guy. A grew up in blue collar hard labor trades in South East Texas.
I love the feeling of putting in the work and being able to step back and see the work you have accomplished.
I have been a welder, a carpenter, a painter, a roofer, and a tree topper, and have served in the Navy. I have felt great pride and kinship with the people I have worked with. Men and women, but mostly men.
I worked with a welder, he was 56 years old and had been working in the field for 2 decades and he made 2 dollars more than myself at the time. He had to take medication that he could barely afford and his benefits weren't great. He loved welding and he was very skilled a great mentor.
But he believed the only way to prove yourself is to hurt your body and push through it, "don't bitch" "try acting like a man". These were some of his manly insights.
He was a tough gut but still he was getting to the point were his health was declining and he sometimes could make it a whole shift.
This kind of behavior is something I've seen time and time again in my time working in the trades. Scares, missing fingers, deafness, respiratory issues, all of these and more. From what I've seen there is a macho disposition of men, especially older seasoned men, in the trades. And I believe this is toxic to men, and their quality of life.
This is my own experience. This may not be true everywhere. My hope is that a new wave of integrity and pride in work, but also care for one another for health and quality of life.
Please let me know what you think.

Company Name	Title	City
Best Buy	Sales Consultant- Income: $17-$19.00/hr. +Commission	Asheville
CarolinaEast Health System	Staff Nurse	Bayboro
CarolinaEast Health System	Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN)	Bayboro
CarolinaEast Health System	Unit Nurse	Bayboro
Georgia-Pacific	Entry Level Production	Brogden
CarolinaEast Health System	Cardiologist 86360	Camp Lejeune
Enterprise Minds Inc.	Axiom Developer	Cary
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill	Medical Lab Tech/Specialist	Chapel Hill
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill	Medical Laboratory Technician	Chapel Hill
Ascendion Inc.	Quality Assurance Manager	Charlotte
Mestek, Inc	Plant Supervisor	Farmville
Mestek, Inc	Set Up/ Lay Out Technician	Farmville
The Hershey Company	Hershey's Part-Time Territory Sales Associate (Fayetteville, NC)	Fayetteville
Information Management Group	Senior Network Administrator with TS/SCI	Fort Bragg
US Facilities Inc	Welcome Center Rest Area Attendant - 057	Fort Mill
Leviton Manufacturing	Product Development Engineer	Fuquay-Varina
Leviton Manufacturing	Associate Product Manager	Fuquay-Varina
Beacon Hill Staffing Group, LLC	Ticketing Office Manager	Gastonia
CarolinaEast Health System	CT Technologist, CT Scanner	Havelock
CarolinaEast Health System	Registered Nurse (RN)	Havelock
ACET, Inc.	EHS Coordinator	Havelock
ACET, Inc.	Electronics Maintenance Technician II	Havelock
ACET, Inc.	Buyer	Havelock
CarolinaEast Health System	Cardiologist	Havelock
Astellas	Clinical Sales Professional, Community Specialties - Hickory, NC	Hickory

Hey guys, here are some recent job openings in nc. Feel free to comment here or send me a private message if you have any questions, I'm at the community's disposal! If you encounter any problems with any of these job openings please let me know that I will modify the table accordingly. Thanks!

My husband and I are going to one of his good friends' wedding this weekend and I am curious about our wedding gift etiquette here. We got married in a few months ago and let them borrow all of our wedding decor that we had made. Over 1500 flowers, our wedding arch, lanterns, centrepieces etc. Its A LOT of decor and I was going to sell it but let them use it first and I will sell it when they are done with it all. They have slightly altered some stuff but not much and I have no problem with it.
I am just curious if we should still be expected to bring a gift or money to the wedding after lending them a few thousand dollars worth of decor for free. My husband thinks we should still give them money and a card about the same amount they gave us for our wedding which was $200 but I don't think anything more than a card is necessary.
It's not a hill I will die on but I am just curious as to what others think or would do in our situation. Thanks Reddit! :D
View Poll

Hello there. I wanted to make a post encouraging anyone from Deschutes or Crook County that has plant questions, indoor or outdoor to reach out to the local Plant Clinic run by Master Gardener volunteers.
What is Plant Clinic? Think of it as a doctors office for your plants. The basic gist is, if you have an issue with any plant, grass, tree, etc… indoor or outdoor, bring in a sample of the problem, or give us a call at one the extension offices. We take down as many detailed notes as possible, and then research the issue. We generally will ask that you take pictures of the issue and email those to us as well. We can also identify pests (some of us love identifying bugs!). Once we have done our research, we reach back out with as much information pertaining to the plant issue as we can, as well as providing solutions with no judgement.
This is a 100% free service. Central Oregon Master Gardeners are a completely volunteer based organization. We just really love plants, and gardening in Central Oregon (it’s a fun challenge!!!!) So please keep in mind when bringing us your sick plants, that we are not paid to do this, so please be very nice.
Things we do not identify, or are able to legally help with (we operate under OSU, which receives federal tax dollars): cannabis, anything mycology related (mushrooms ain’t plants hahaha).
If you are a professional landscaping service, please identify yourself as one so that we may transfer you to the correct person.
Here is the information for each county extension office:
Deschutes County 3800 SW Airport Way Building #4 Redmond, OR 97756
Phone: 541-548-6088 x79630 Hours: Monday-Thursday 9-5, Friday 9-1 (I think this is current for their hours, but will update if not)
Crook County 498 SE Lynn Blvd Prineville, OR 97754
Phone: 541-447-6228 Hours: Wednesday, 1-5 pm
I’m happy to answer any questions regarding plant clinic to the best of my ability. I just started the Master Gardener program in January though, so I am very new!
Have a great day everyone!

Hi, we have an emergency where we have to stay an extra 2 nights at a motel until our apartment is available to live in. Please, help!

Evil often wears a mask.
John Burke felt his tendon tear. It happened just past the DEAD END sign, an instant after his foot struck the edge of the pothole. His right ankle folded and he went down hard--real hard--on the rough asphalt road.
Mid-summer morning, just outside New Orleans. Nylon jogging shorts and a tank top were no protection against road rash. His right knee hit first, then his hands. The pebble-studded pavement devoured the skin on both then bit into his hip, but he barely felt the hip. Maybe the shorts helped, or maybe by then John was in too much pain to notice.
He lay in the street--thank God cars were rare on Cemetery Road--bleeding, clutching his leg. Everything forgotten except his pain. He could see his ankle already starting to swell, turning purple along the inside. When he tried to flex it a white hot bolt of pain shot up his leg.
This is bad, John thought. Really bad. Doctor Van Dykes, surgery, months of physical therapy...
First thing--get off the street. John rolled onto his left side and had to stop and catch his breath as a wave of nausea washed over him. As the blood ran from his hands and knee where the road had carved away hunks of meat, he watched bright crimson drops splash onto the asphalt.
Hundred-year-old oaks overhung Cemetery Road, their branches draped in gray beards of Spanish moss that shaded the street. A quarter-mile past the DEAD END sign, the road bridged over the Chinchuba River, a slow-paced tributary no more than a couple dozen yards wide. Some mornings, mist drifted off the water's surface and into the woods on both sides of the road, giving the place a surreal look.
A perfect place to jog--run--John Burke didn't like using the "J" word. Jogging was what people did on weekends as they watched their bellies grow. John was a runner. At least four times a week with half-a-dozen races a year.
The nearest house--the only house on Cemetery Road--stood at the end, half a mile away, next to the graveyard for which the road was named. Maybe, just maybe, he could limp there, borrow a phone, call Gail. John looked at his watch, just 7:15. His wife didn't leave until eight. If he could get to a telephone she could pick him up and drive him straight to Doctor Van Dykes' office.
The trip was torture. Taking short hops on his left leg, he could make it only ten or fifteen feet before he had to rest. To rest John had to drop his right foot down and put a little weight on it and that sent waves of pain shooting up his leg. Behind him, he saw a trail of blood like red tears on the ground.
At the end of the road, the pavement gave way to a gravel driveway flanked on either side by two white stone columns. A six-foot, spiked, wrought-iron fence disappeared into the woods on either side. Hinged inside the columns gaped a pair of wrought iron gates. Mounted on the left hand column was a brass plaque with the number 100 etched in black. 100 Cemetery Road.
John paused at the top of the driveway and leaned against one of the gates to catch his breath. The drive descended at a slight grade, curved to the right, then vanished into the woods. He'd run past the driveway hundreds of times but had never actually seen the house or the cemetery. There was always something slightly unsettling about the look of it, something that made him pick up his pace as he ran past.
After a deep breath, he started hopping down the gravel drive, using trees along the way as resting points. The house was a hundred yards past the gate. A big two-story, clapboard construction, that looked run down, almost seedy. It had suffered years of wood rot and badly needed a coat of paint.
The gravel path ended at a two-car garage attached to the right side of the house. Left of the house, on the other side, past a stand of trees, John caught a glimpse of the cemetery. He could just make out a low iron fence and a few gray tombstones.
A wooden porch with a decayed railing spanned the front of the house. The front door was solid wood, without windows.
He leaned against the frame and knocked. A minute passed. John knocked again, this time pounding with the bottom of his fist. At least another half minute went by before he heard slippers shuffling on the floor just inside. The door opened just a crack and a white haired old lady peered out. "Yes," she said, suspicion in her voice.
John held up his right leg, showing his bloody knee and black and blue ankle. Exhausted, he didn't have time to mince words. "I'm hurt. Can I use your phone?"
The old lady looked down at John's leg. A look of concern washed over her face as she threw open the door. "Come in. Oh, my goodness, come in."
John stretched his arms across the doorjamb as he hobbled inside the threshold. "If I can just use the phone, my wife will come pick me up."
"What on earth happened?" she said, leading him through the foyer.
"Twisted my ankle in a pothole."
"Oh, my word," she said, turning to look. "Is it very bad?"
"I think so."
"Come sit down. Let me get you something."
The foyer floor was tile, but he wanted to be careful. "I don't want to get blood on anything."
She shook her head. "Don't be silly. Blood washes right out." The old lady stepped toward John and took hold of his left arm, letting him lean some of his weight on her.
In the den, John was relieved to see a wooden floor. As he dropped onto the sofa, he nodded toward a telephone on an end table. "If I can just use the phone..."
A strange look flashed across the old lady's face, but was gone in an instant as she nodded toward the telephone. "That one doesn't work." She pointed toward a door that looked like it led into the kitchen. "You stay put. I'll call somebody for you in just a second, but first let me get you some water."
John tried to protest, but she was determined. While she was gone, he eyed the room. The den was big, with six bay windows overlooking the woods behind the house. The room was filled with old-fashioned furniture and had a cavernous fireplace at one end, but it also had a worn look, and a smell. A smell John always associated with old age, with his grandfather's house in the last few years before he died.
Next to the dead telephone was a framed black and white photo of a pretty young woman in a riding outfit, posing at what looked like the front gate of a ranch. It was the old lady, much younger and much thinner.
When she came back carrying a tall glass of ice water in one hand, John still had both hands clutching his swelling ankle. He jabbed an elbow toward the photo, more for something to say than anything else. "Is that you?"
She nodded. "My father owned the Rocking R ranch.
The name was familiar. One of the biggest meat suppliers in the state. "Owned?" He stressed the past tense.
She nodded. "After Daddy died, we had to sell. Rising interest rates and the drop in beef prices, we got just pennies on the dollar." She sounded bitter.
For a second she stood quiet and John used the lull to introduce himself and explain how he'd hurt his ankle.
She handed him the glass. "I may have seen you jogging before. Looked like somebody was chasing you."
John thanked her and smiled at the image that popped into his head of this nice old lady lurking in the woods close enough to see the road. As he took a long sip from the glass, he noticed a slightly bitter taste that reminded him why he drank bottled. "You live here alone?"
"No. My husband and I are retired. For forty years we owned Muller and Son funeral home."
"That's where we had the service for my father," John said.
"I'm sorry." She patted his shoulder. "When did he pass?"
He had to think for a second. Time flies. "Two years this past spring," he slurred.
She stared at him with a look of compassion. "Our son would have handled that. We sold the business to him four years ago."
John's head began to spin. The glass slipped from his fingers as he crumpled to the floor. Darkness.
* * *
John Burke cracked his eyes and saw blinding lights. Then felt thumping. Someone was thumping on his chest. He opened his eyes all the way. White light, bright white light. Flat on his back, he tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes but his arm wouldn't move--at least not far. Just a couple inches then something held it. Same thing happened when he tried to use his other hand.
John felt a cold hard floor beneath him--the rough surface of cement--as he rolled onto his side. There was something wrong with his hands. They were trapped at his waist as he tried again to shield his eyes from the blinding light.
More thumping, this time on his left shoulder. He blinked several times to clear his vision. His eyes focused on a bearded, bare-chested, fat man, squatting on the floor next to him. A pair of steel handcuffs clamped on the big man's wrists were fastened to a belt encircling his waist.
"You okay?" the man said.
John just stared at him, realizing the man wasn't just bare-chested, he was completely naked.
"I said, are you okay?" the bearded man asked again.
"Where am I?" John's head felt like it was going to split open.
The naked fat man shrugged. "I don't know."
John looked down at himself and saw that he too was bare-assed, his own wrists handcuffed and bound to his waist by a two-inch wide leather belt. Using his elbow and good knee, John started to snake away from his new acquaintance.
"You can't get away," the man said.
Get away from where?
The pain in his ankle made him stop. He looked around, saw he was in a room maybe thirty feet by thirty feet. Besides him and the fat man, there were four other men in the room. All naked, all handcuffed and belted.
The bearded man hadn't moved. "It's not me you got to be afraid of." He pointed toward the room's only door. "It's the old man."
* * *
The old man had been in four times to bring food. Slop was more like it. He came into the room carrying the thick brown paste in a couple of five-gallon buckets. The stuff tasted like it had a lot of lard in it.
"How long have you been here?" John asked.
The bearded man--Skeeter he called himself--just shrugged. "The old man always keeps the lights on so we can't tell the difference between day and night."
Along one wall was a chest-high trough into which their keeper poured the paste. A second trough along the adjacent wall held water. Like animals, the men stood in front of the troughs, stuck their faces into them, and slurped.
Like everyone else, everything of John's had been taken from him while he was unconscious: shorts, shirt, socks, shoes, and most important, his watch. In addition to belted handcuffs, the other men wore leg irons, essentially a pair of oversized, stainless steel cuffs with a foot-and-a-half of chain between them. But John had been spared that, probably due to the size of his swollen ankle.
Skeeter didn't know why he was here, why any of them were here. "I was just hitchhiking"
"Hitchhiking?"
He nodded. "On the interstate."
"The old man was driving a van. Pulled over and gave me a ride. After a few minutes he reaches into a cooler between the seats and hands me a beer. I'm talking about a sealed up beer. Popped the top on it myself. I took couple of sips, remember thinking it tasted kind of funny, like it got spoiled. Next thing I know I wake up here--like this." Skeeter tugged at his handcuffs, rattling the chain looped through the belt.
During the next several feedings John got pretty much the same story from three of the other four men. All hitchhikers, all picked up by the old man. The fourth guy, the one the others said had been here the longest, didn't talk. Just leaned against the wall in a stupor.
"Something in the food," Skeeter said.
"What do you mean?"
Skeeter patted his gut. "I didn't have this when I got here." He nodded toward the food trough. "And it makes you tired all the time."
* * *
Feedings. That's the only way John Burke had of marking the passage of time. Seemed like they were spaced out evenly, several hours apart, figured maybe three times a day. It was after the seventh feeding that the old man came and took away the guy who wouldn't talk--the sleepy guy.
He came in wearing a full-length plastic apron and carrying an electric cattle prod. He used the prod to shock the sleepy guy in the ass and wake him up, then delivered a couple more jabs to drive him from the room. Just after the door closed behind them, John heard the two bolts shoved into place.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked Skeeter.
"That's the third one I've seen him take."
"Do they come back?"
Skeeter shook his head.
"Where do they go?"
"I don't know. But...I'm afraid my turn's coming."
"I want to get out of here," John said, "and that looks like the only way out."
"Bad as this place is, I got a feeling what's on the other side of that door is a lot worse."
Hungry as he was, John barely ate. A couple things he'd noticed, the other four men were flabby and they slept a lot, especially after a feeding. The food--slop they called it--had to be the reason. The thick brown paste made everyone fat and sleepy. Something in it, some type of sedative, and maybe something else, something that made you want more. John couldn't remember ever being so hungry. Still, he only took a mouthful at each feeding.
And while the others slept, John worked. The leather belt around his waist was buckled at the back and secured with a small padlock. The handcuffs ran through a stainless steel ring in front. He'd tested the steel parts, the buckle, the lock, and the ring, but didn't think there was any hope of attacking them; the only weak spot was the leather itself.
So as soon as the others filled their bellies and nodded off, John would hobble to the drinking trough. He'd found a slightly rough edge at one corner and had begun scraping the belt against it. The belt was thick and the leather tough. The going was slow, but at least it was something. And something was better than nothing.
* * *
Just after the twenty-ninth feeding, that's when the old man came and took Skeeter away. He'd taken two more since that first one, and two new ones had come in. They came in one at a time, three feedings apart, and just like he imagined it had happened to him, the old man dragged them unconscious into the room and left them. They'd each awakened, naked, shackled, and groggy.
Then it was Skeeter's turn. He must have known because as soon as he heard the bolts slip back his face turned white. He backed himself into one of the far corners, trying to put as much distance between himself and the door as he could.
Skeeter had told John he used to be a wrestler, high school and college, back before the drugs and the booze, back before he'd hit the road. Since then he'd ridden his thumb, crisscrossing the country in search of a good time. Skeeter put up the best fight John had seen from any of them, but the belt, the handcuffs, the leg irons, and the cattle prod were just too much. One two-minute round was all the former wrestler had in him. After that, he was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own urine, a blubbering pile of flabby flesh covered in scarlet welts.
The old man grabbed the chain between Skeeter's ankles and dragged him through the door. Helpless, John just watched. The most terrifying thing was the old man's lack of emotion. No spark of evil in those eyes, just the look of a tired man trying to get through another day.
By the thirty-fifth feeding--John figured eleven or twelve days since he arrived--he had managed to saw through almost the entire two-inch leather belt, just an eighth of an inch remained.
Only one other of the original five who were in the room when John woke up was left. The old man came in, wearing his black plastic apron, and carrying the prod. In a minute it was over. He'd prodded the man through the door on hands and knees, the poor bastard doing everything he could to keep from getting shocked. This time only one bolt clicked into place.
For what seemed like an hour John sat in the middle of the room and watched the door, his stomach twisted with fear. Just as exhaustion overtook him and his head started to nod, the bolt shot open and the old man swept back into the room, wielding the cattle prod like a sword. John slid backward against the far wall as the old man's eyes fixed on him. But there was no hatred in them, nor malice as he strode toward John, waving the tip of the prod in a "come here" motion. As the cool wall pressed against John's back, he felt his bladder let go, felt the warm liquid spill down his thighs.
I'm going to die.
(to be continued...)

Since freshman year I’ve been in and out of trouble, often getting myself in all kinds of nasty situations. It was around that time my grades started to drop and my parents got more complaints from my teachers. I hung with the wrong crowds and would often get suspended. Over the years things got worse. My problems left school and became minor offenses with the law. Everything from shoplifting to vandalism. I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve been dragged home in a squad car, only to be snatched in and scolded by my dad.
In the middle of senior year not much had changed. My grades were overall still piss poor and I almost got busted for selling prescription pills. At that point I had messed up so much that my parents finally decided that they’ve had enough. They gave me an ultimatum. I had just turned eighteen, so they told me either I got my shit together, or they were going to let me go - one more mishap and I was out of the house.
Honestly, I’ve been wanting to move out and get away from my parents for a while anyways. My “unruly” and rebellious acts in high school was a result of their constant bickering and attempts at controlling every aspect of my life. I’ve become more and more annoyed with them as time passed.
After our talk I became determined to stay out of trouble. I still needed somewhere to stay before leaving, and I didn’t want to get thrown out before I found a way to support myself. I was motivated to turn my life around. But I had to start somewhere, and it was in an industry I knew I’d hate working in.
Fast food.
I found a position at a burger joint. After a few weeks of faithfully punching the clock after school, and fulfilling my duty as a cashier, I really was off to a good start. That was until I decided I needed a car. Although my job was only a few blocks away, I thought I would need some reliable transportation for myself in the future.
Obviously I had no money to purchase a new car, so I planned on buying a used one. One day after school I made a trip to the nearest dealership and searched for a used vehicle with a low price. I wanted to get the car as soon as possible, but I had no credit and I couldn’t pay the full price up front. I searched for other solutions.
An old acquaintance told me about a guy called Bucky-Mac. He told me this guy would loan me the money for the car no matter what my credit was like. From what I've heard, Bucky-Mac was primarily a drug dealer, but he also lent money to desperate people on the side.
Apparently he's been around for years, so I found it odd that I've never heard of this guy before. The fact that this guy was pretty much a loan shark did very little to deter me at the time. My sudden enthusiasm and hope that came with finally wanting to get my life together and taking my future seriously kind of clouded my judgment.
I went to the guy that my old friend had informed me of. Bucky-Mac spent a lot of time in a spot located on the other side of town. It was in a wooded area, at the end of a long dirt road deep into a labyrinth of trees. I rode my bike over there that day, so it took me about ten minutes to travel down the dirt road and reach the small wooden house with boarded up windows.
There were four black trucks parked on the property, with a few men hanging out and standing here and there. One guy smoking a cigarette turned and spotted me coming his way. He stopped in the middle of taking another swig and stared at me as I came closer. The other guys nearby spotted me soon after. I rode closer to the guy with the cigarette and hopped off my bike. All the eyes glued on me made me feel uneasy, so I was slow about speaking. After seconds of awkward silence the cigarette smoking guy says,
“Who are you?”
The curious men that surrounded him looked as if they also wanted to know.
“I-I’m Jake. I’m here to talk to Bucky-Mac,” I said.
He nodded his head in approval before flicking his still lit cigarette away. Then he gestured for me to follow him. I was led into the nearly dilapidated house, as many of the other guys had their gaze locked on me as I entered.
The place was mostly dark inside. But there were a few dimly lit areas, many of which were occupied with boxes and blocks of a suspicious substance heavily wrapped in tape. There was a guy inside hauling many of the blocks into the boxes as he taped them up. The house also reeked of marijuana. The scent was so strong I was surprised it didn’t hit me while I was outside.
We made a turn down a hall which had a closed door at the end. The guy in front of me knocked twice when we reached it. The door swung open in seconds, revealing a middle aged man standing in the doorway. He was smiling. He glanced at me quickly then laid eyes back on the guy in front of me.
“Who is this?” he asked.
The guy in front me shrugged his shoulders.
The middle aged man’s smile grew wider. He had one gold tooth. His hair was slicked back, and it shined in the sunlight beaming in through the window behind him.
“How’s it going?” He said, still smiling.
“I’m fine, man. You?” I replied.
Although I felt a little uneasy, I tried to present myself as confident and just as friendly as this guy appeared to be so far.
“Why don’t you come into my office?” He said, stepping back and giving way for me and the other guy to enter.
We walked in then the middle aged man closed the door behind us. There were two chairs sitting in front of a decorative desk, which had a revolver and a half consumed glass of liquor near it. I took a seat in one of the chairs, as the man came and sat behind his desk. The other guy stood by the door.
“So, what’s up? "
“You are Bucky-Mac, right?” I asked.
He picked up the glass of liquor and gulped down what remained before saying,
“Of course, mate! All day everyday.”
I looked behind me and saw the guy by the door grinning. Then I spun back around only to see Bucky-Mac still smiling.
I sighed.
“I need to borrow some cash,” I said.
From there I explained my situation. I told him that I just turned eighteen and was about to graduate high school in a few months. I informed him of my bumpy years of high school, why I wanted to turn my life around after graduating, and how the money would allow me to buy a car, which would be convenient during the job hunting process.
“Hmm, I see,” Bucky-Mac mumbled, staring at his desk, “You seem to be a man of good intent. You made some mistakes, and now you wanna do better. I can respect that.”
He pulled a bottle of booze from behind his desk and started to refill the glass in front of him.
“You know, most people would find this hard to believe. But sometimes I wish I did the same when I was your age,” Bucky-Mac continued, “If I had thought the same as you earlier on, I’d have a much more stable life right now.”
I heard the guy by the door chuckle, as if he disagreed with Bucky-Mac’s statement.
“Thanks, man,” I said.
He offered me a drink, but I kindly turned it down.
“No worries, pal. You have my support,” Bucky-Mac assured, “So how much we lookin’ at?”
The second I left Bucky-Mac’s spot I headed straight for the dealership and purchased the car I’ve had my eye on. Then on the following day I pulled up to school in it. Some of the kids standing in the crowd in front of the school building noticed me as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. A few of them were my friends, and I often walked to school with them everyday.
They were surprised to see me suddenly pull up to school driving a car, and no longer walking with them. I must say, it felt good to drive around in a vehicle that I could say was mine. Although it was only a cheap used one, it was still my first car.
Among some of the kids in the crowd was a girl. She was standing in an area alone by the front doors. She was really tall, towering over most of the boys that stood in a group not too far away from her. Her eyes were locked on me as I drove by.
Abatha is her name. I’ve known her since first grade. No, we weren’t quite friends. If anything we were the opposite. Abatha has been a total bitch to me ever since the first day we met as small children.
It all started in second grade. Abatha snatched a toy from me. Then she proceeded to push me down and go crying to the teacher, saying I was the one that took the toy from her. The teacher believed her, and I was put in time out. I remember seven year old Abatha teasing me for the rest of the day after that.
This small childish incident led to non-stop feuding between us, year after year, well into our high school years. Most of it was initiated by her.
Often Abatha would taunt and harass me every chance she got. It became worse at the beginning of high school when my years of delinquency began. She had many field days laughing and making fun of me the second she found out I’d gotten into some trouble.
Her harassment was never anything more than verbal. Abatha never physically assaulted me, or displayed a desire to do so. I found this odd, as she very well could've, and inflicted some damage due to her large size. She’s always been a larger girl. Even when we were younger she had always been taller than me. By the time junior year came around she was 6’4.
As I pulled into a parking spot I saw Abatha grin before turning and entering the school building.
Two hundred fifty dollar payments a week. That was the deal. I told Bucky-Mac about my job as a cashier and he was willing to work with me. I expected close to half of my check to be gone every time I got paid for the next few months, but it was for a good cause.
I returned to Bucky-Mac’s spot one afternoon after leaving work, to pay him his share. The first week of paying was a piece of cake. Easy in, easy out. But it was when I went back the following week I realized I may have made a grave mistake.
He wanted double of what was paid the previous week. Five hundred dollars.
When he told me that, my stomach dropped. During our negotiation he specifically said two hundred fifty dollars per week. I was confused as to why he was changing the terms and conditions.
“I forgot to mention a little something called…interest,” Bucky-Mac explained, “Look at it this way. You’re helping me, help you.” Bucky-Mac said.
That friendly smile he once had when I first met him had turned into something else.
I already knew there would be some interest involved, because otherwise he wouldn’t make any profit lending money. But I didn’t expect it to be that much. Fortunately I was able to make the payment, as I could work more hours than most high schoolers who were restricted by child labor laws. But I barely had any money left afterwards.
When I went back the third week he wanted a thousand dollars.
One thousand dollars.
I mean, there was just no way he could expect me to pull that kind of cash on the spot. Especially after I told him about my low paying occupation.
I told him I couldn’t pay him that week. Then that’s when the shit hit the fan, and the guy beneath that friendly façade came to surface. Bucky-Mac’s smile faded completely, then he abruptly gained an expression of pure rage.
“We had a deal,” he said, standing up out of his seat.
That same guy from before was standing by the door, but the second Bucky-Mac stood up out of his seat, he moved in closer to me.
With my heart now racing, I mumble, “You didn’t say anything about interest rates this high -”
“We had a deal!” Bucky-Mac shouted.
“Dude, I get that. But w-we agreed to something totally different!” I said, now starting to get even more nervous.
I glanced behind me once more and saw that the other guy was almost leaning right up on me, still glaring. At this point I wanted to just run out of the room.
As Bucky-Mac walked from behind his desk the guy behind me wrapped his arm around my neck, locking me in a tight choke hold. I struggled to break free but the guy was too strong.
“What the fuck is thi - “ I started.
Before I could finish my sentence, Bucky-Mac came and punched me in the stomach. I grunted in pain then coughed multiple times. Then he kneeled down to look me right in the eye, as the guy behind me still had a hold on me.
“Now I’m gonna tell you this, Jake. I don’t like being ripped off,” Bucky-Mac said.
I felt the guy's arm slightly constrict around my neck tighter.
Bucky-Mac searched my pockets then pulled out all the cash I was carrying, which wasn’t very much.
“You’re short on payment,” he continued, “From now on, I want full payments every single week, starting next week. By then, I expect two thousand dollars sitting on my desk….no excuses. Or we’re gonna have some serious problems, Jake.”
Bucky-Mac delivered a few more punches to my gut before the guy behind me finally released me, letting me fall to the floor as I held my stomach.
“You can leave my office now,” Bucky-Mac mumbled, drawing a cigar from the inside of his suit.
After that incident I hadn’t returned to Bucky-Mac’s spot for two whole weeks. Bucky-Mac called my phone constantly during that time. I ignored. Every time my phone rang and I saw his number my heart would instantly leap. I didn’t know what I was going to do. But I had to think of something quick.
In the meantime, everyone at school was already excited about prom. I wasn’t. I had gotten myself caught up in some debt. Prom was the last thing I cared about.
During the next few weeks that’s all everyone at school discussed. My parents even brought it up to me, expressing how they hoped I planned on going to the last prom of high school. At first I disregarded their suggestion and didn’t plan on going. I had no one to take. I was pretty sure anyone I asked would’ve turned me down anyways. But to my surprise, someone asked me to prom instead.
A girl named Alexis. This was odd because I hadn’t interacted with her much over the years, and I barely knew her. But she told me she had no one to take to prom and she’s been checking me out for some time. So reluctantly, I agreed to go to prom with her. Afterwards, we spent some time hanging out and dating off and on. Some mornings I’d even pick her up and give her rides to school in my car.
One morning Abatha caught Alexis and I getting out of my car and heading to the school building. Abatha was standing alone once again. This time she was scrolling away on her phone. She spotted us out in the parking lot, then waited for us to approach her. Another mischievous grin plastered her face.
“Looks like the troublemaker caught himself another fish,” Abatha said as we passed by.
When I didn’t reply, Abatha stepped out in front of us and blocked our way.
I sighed.
“Abatha, not today”.
I had to look up to her as I spoke.
“I don’t wanna get into it with you right now. Please move,” I continued.
I took Alexis by the hand and tried to move around her but she just blocked me again.
Abatha did this often. I’ve had many girlfriends throughout high school. Every time Abatha saw me with a new girl she’d come and embarrass me in front of my date.
Every time.
I sighed again. Abatha chuckled.
“What’s wrong, Jakey boy?...still feelin’ butterflies?” Abatha taunted.
She glanced at Alexis.
“Let me ask you something,” Abatha continued, stepping closer to Alexis, “Does he often get…jittery, when you’re alone?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your busine - “ Alexis started.
“Does he scream when you see him with his pants down?” Abatha interrupted, “Only asking because he did it before. When I pulled his pants down back in sixth grade…..wait, have you seen him with his pants down yet?”
Agitated, Alexis took me by the hand and made her way around Abatha, pulling me along with her. As we trotted along, I glanced back and saw Abatha frowning. I smirked at her as we walked further away. Abatha rolled her eyes in frustration before turning around and going in the opposite direction.
I was just getting off work on one Saturday night, as my shift had just ended. My manager was counting the till and I just cleaned the last table in the restaurant. While I waited by the door for the manager to lock up for the night, I saw a black truck pull into the parking lot outside. The truck parked right beside my car. My guess was a last minute customer. Evidently my manager thought the same because he told me to tell whoever was in the truck that we were closed. When they came to the door, that is. But no one ever did get out of the truck. About ten minutes had passed by and they were still sitting there letting the engine run.
My manager and I stepped outside after he had set the alarm and finished the till. Then the both of us went our separate ways in the parking lot, after the manager had locked the restaurant doors.
When I got to my car I tried to sneak a peek into the truck that was parked beside me but the windows were tinted very dark.
Go figure.
I heard the manager start the engine on his car and pull out of the parking lot. That’s when a door on the mysterious black truck suddenly shot open. A large man hopped out of the back seat and grabbed me from behind, hauling me into the truck afterwards.
As soon as the large man threw me into the back seat, I was reminded that I had told Bucky-Mac where I worked when we first met. I told him part of my schedule, and gave some specifics on times. I had also informed him of some other things I couldn’t recall at the moment. I know I may have told him a little too much but the guy seemed so friendly at first I thought I could trust him.
The guy that hauled me in pushed me further across the seat, before getting back in himself and closing the door. Someone else in the truck flipped on a light. Then I could clearly see Bucky-Mac sitting right beside me. He didn’t look happy.
“Sup, Jake?” He said.
He stared at me with cold and menacing eyes.
There were two guys in the front. They were looking back at me, holding expressions similar to Bucky-Mac’s.
“You’ve missed some payments, and it better be for good reason. Now, I hope you have cash to cover these couple weeks you’ve decided to skedaddle,” Bucky-Mac said.
He continued to glare at me, waiting for a response.
“I-I’ve been trying to get the money. What do you think I’m at this restaurant for?” I stammered.
He snickered then covered his face with his hand.
“Now, that’s a good one!.....But it’s still unacceptable. You haven’t been paying, and you’ve been ignoring my calls,” he snarled.
He elbowed me in the face, striking me right in my nose. My nose began to gush blood.
One of the guys up front lit a cigarette, then that’s when Bucky-Mac and the large guy sitting on my other side started to viciously beat me. They kicked my ass in that back seat for minutes, then the large guy opened the door again before shoving me outside on the ground.
The black truck backed up and took off, leaving me behind in the moonlit parking lot.
My entire body was aching like hell, and one of my eyes throbbed non-stop. I touched my bottom lip. It was swollen, and felt slightly enlarged. I could barely stand up straight heading to my car, as the pain had caused my body to beg for rest.
As I opened my car door, I heard something from a distance. A strange sound. Like a howl. It was echoing out into the night, and it went on for seconds. I turned in all directions making several attempts at finding the source.
I found nothing.
I even glanced at the sky. There was nothing there but the half moon.
I had dug myself deeper into the debt hole by not visiting Bucky-Mac for those two weeks. He increased my debt even more, and accounted for the times I didn’t show up. As expected, he doubled the amount for each week. This meant I owed him a total of eight thousand dollars as of the night in the parking lot.
After that I made sure I stopped by Bucky-Mac’s spot and paid him as much as I could for the following few weeks after, even though it was nowhere near enough. As a result of the low payments, I received more beatings everytime I went. But I had to keep going and pay him what I could, otherwise he’d do something worse if I didn’t show up at all.
But what was I kidding. I was never going to pay off this debt. At this point I realized that’s exactly how Bucky-Mac wanted things. He wanted a constant flow of cash that never ended. Even if I showed up to his office one day and paid what I owed in full, he’d just double the debt and kick my ass again.
The beatings were getting unbearable. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I felt I had to skip out on him for a couple more weeks as a way to catch a break from getting my ass kicked. Again I ignored his calls when he hit up my cell phone. After that I just anticipated the black truck waiting for me outside of my job.
Bucky-Mac didn’t show up at my job anymore. He came to my school instead. After the bell rang and the school day came to an end, fear showered me when I walked outside and saw the black truck parked across the street.
I planned on giving Alexis a ride home that day, so she was by my side as I tried to ease my way to my car. Unfortunately I was spotted as I crawled into the driver’s seat. The backdoor on the black truck swung open, then that same large guy from before came trotting across the street. When the guy approached my car, he swung my door back open then gently pulled me out of the driver’s seat.
“Jake, where are you going?” Alexis said, “Who is this?”
The guy held his arm on my shoulder as he walked me across the street to the black truck. He faked a smile and pretended to be an acquaintance to avoid drawing the attention of the nearby students around us. We got to the truck then the guy shoved me into the back seat once again.
I met Bucky-Mac with an unsettled gaze the second I was thrown in. I could hear Alexis constantly shouting my name outside.
“I thought I wouldn’t have to tell you again,” Bucky-Mac mumbled, “But it looks like you’re a pretty terrible listener!”
With that, the guy up front started to slowly drive away from the school. I glanced out the window and saw Alexis jogging on the sidewalk to keep up with us. The truck made a stop after a block of cruising. They parked near a curb closeby.
Another beating was initiated, and I can tell you this was the worst one yet. They gave me double the amount of blows to my body. I received so many strikes to the face I was surprised I could see at all when it was over.
Alexis peeped through the window with her hands cupped around her eyes, yelling for them to stop.
“Stop it, you’re gonna hurt him!” she cried.
They kept going, punching and elbowing me for minutes. I could feel blood elevating my throat.
Bucky-Mac drew a knife and held it to my pupil.
“Listen here you little shit. The next time you screw me over, not only are we gonna beat you twice as worse and twice as longer, but I’m gonna take my blade…and pluck one of your eyes,” He threatened.
He brought the blade even closer to my eye. Almost to the point where I could almost feel the tip touching my eyeball.
“You can’t afford to test me again, Jake.”
I was shoved out of the truck once more, only to be meant with Alexis crying on the sidewalk. The panic on her face grew more intense when she saw my nose dripping with blood.
“Jake, what’s going on?” she sobbed.
I didn’t answer.
Someone else was walking towards us on the sidewalk. It was Abatha. She saw Alexis crying, then glanced at me. As soon as she saw my battered face there was an expression of concern.
Abatha wasn’t smiling.
Alexis broke up with me the next day. She got spooked by the incident and decided she didn’t want much to do with me anymore. Our plans to go to prom together were also canceled. The incident had given Alexis the wrong impression - that I was still engaging in pathological behavior. She complained of not being able to be around me anymore, saying,
“So these are the kind of people you deal with?!...If that’s the case, then I’m afraid we’re not gonna work.”
She walked away then barely spoke to me anymore after that. Then of course Abatha just had to be nearby to witness and overhear everything. Abatha was already holding her usual grin when I glanced at her.
“Looks like you messed up again, Jakey boy!” She teased, “Your fish unhooked itself and swam away?”
I glared at her angrily, then brushed past her to enter the school building.
It was pretty disappointing for our plans to be canceled. But hell, my whole ideal ending for my senior year had been canceled as far as I knew. Just when I was starting to grow more enthusiastic about senior prom all hope was taken away. Prom was just a month and a half away and I no longer had a date to take. To make matters worse, Alexis had already found another prom date within days after splitting up with me.
Abatha wouldn’t shut up about that. She rubbed it in face for days.
“Well that was quick. We’ll see how fast you can find another date…if at all,” she said before trailing away, giggling.
I lifted a middle finger at her as she walked.
At this point in time I no longer cared about the car. I wished I could return it and take back everything. I just wanted out of this debt with Bucky-Mac, and for senior year to just end already. I was giving up on all hopes for my plans for the future. As a matter of fact, after being too afraid to face Bucky-Mac once again and skipping out on meeting him for another three weeks, I decided that I’d contact the police and inform them of the situation I’d gotten myself in soon. Then let my parents know what was going on.
I was sure my parents would definitely kick me out after finding out I made a deal with a loan shark. But I didn’t care. Keeping a secret wasn’t worth my life. Or in this case - my eye.
Unfortunately I made the fatal mistake of not acting on those thoughts soon enough, as I ended another night shift at work with the black truck waiting for me out in the parking lot. My heart leaped instantly as I felt my body run cold. I wanted badly to just tell my manager everything and beg him to call the police for me. But instead all he did was activate the security system and lock the doors as usual. Then he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving me to endure what was to come.
The black truck pulled out of its parking spot and made its way over to me. That same large guy hopped out and started to haul me into the truck.
“Get his ass in here!!” I heard Bucky-Mac hiss.
We all heard something. Then the large guy holding me paused.
It was the same howling sound I heard before. Again it echoed out into the night, and got louder the longer it went on.
“What the hell is that?” The large guy said.
“Who gives a shit?!! Get him in!” Bucky-Mac demanded.
The large guy did just that.
This time instead of giving me the usual beating quickie, they pulled off as soon as I was hauled into the truck and drove me back to Bucky-Mac’s spot. The truck halted at a stop upon arriving at the small raggedy house.
This was my first time at the spot during the night, and it looked a bit different. There was no kind of artificial light in this wooded area so it was a lot darker than usual. But the light from the full moon above provided enough to see around the dark pit that surrounded us.
The men shoved me out of the truck and started their beating ritual. The other two men joined in this time, punching and kicking me, barely giving me a chance to breathe. In the middle of all this was the sound of the howling again.
The large guy was the only one to acknowledge it. He paused, but Bucky-Mac and the other two continued to beat me.
After minutes of receiving many more blows, they all stopped. The large guy positioned my body to lean against the back tire of the truck. Then Bucky-Mac drew his pocket knife and kneeled down to face me.
I moaned and groaned from the painful sensations moving throughout my body.
"I tried," Bucky-Mac started, "I've really tried to work with you. But it's obvious you're a fraud."
He had some nerve. The loan shark, calling me a fraud.
"I think you get a kick out of not giving me what I want…what I deserve.”
He opened the blade on the knife and brought the point to my eye.
“Now I’m gonna take something away you desperately want….and don’t deserve,” he continued.
I swore I could feel the tip of the blade slightly drive into my sclera. Before it could go any deeper, we all heard that howl for the third time that night. Except it sounded very close this time. So close no one could ignore it. Not even Bucky-Mac. He lowered the knife then glanced behind him, as that’s where it seemed the howling came from.
There was nothing there but a patch of darkness resting between the trees.
“What the - ?” Bucky-mac whispered.
As we all stared at the patch of darkness, two glowing dots emerged in front of our eyes.
Two yellow glowing dots.
Behind the yellow dots came another howl, along with some deep and beastly growls.
The dots started to come closer, then continued until whatever was hiding in the shadows came out into view, and was exposed beneath the moonlight.
The sight of the creature we were looking at had caught us all off guard. Bucky-Mac dropped the knife then all five of us began backing away.
In front of us was some kind of tall and fury beast. The creature stood upright just like a human, and had to be no less than seven feet tall. Its muscles were so defined they practically rippled through its black and shiny coat of fur. Turns out the yellow dots were the creature’s eyes. Those beady eyes were locked on us, as we backed away even further.
The creature opened its long snout full of pointed teeth, dripping with saliva, and let out a deafening, monstrous sound.
"Bucky, what the hell is going on?!" One of the other guys shouted.
"H-how the fuck should I know?" Bucky-Mac yelled.
I could hear the fear and concern in their voices.
The creature let out several smaller growls, then suddenly began sprinting towards us on all fours. Bucky-Mac and his guys drew pistols and began firing multiple shots at the hairy beast.
I turned to run but instantly tripped and fell on my stomach. The sharp pain in my stomach left me stagnant for seconds.
Bullets struck the creature in several areas on its muscular body. The gunfire seemed to do little to no damage, but it was enough to keep the creature temporarily distant. The beast backed off then started to crawl up the walls of Bucky-Mac’s small drug house. The men continued to fire at the creature until it reached the roof.
“Come on, kill this fuckin’ thing!” Bucky-Mac shouted, firing away with his revolver.
With many bullets still striking its body, the creature took a huge leap off the building. It jumped so high I could see the full moon behind it’s body as it accelerated through the air - towards us. It landed right on top of the guy who drove the truck, crushing his puny human body and taking a huge bite out of his head afterwards. Blood sprayed from the exposed brains in his skull, dousing his partner in the face nearby and preventing him from seeing where he was shooting.
The guy screamed and tried to flee the area. He could barely turn around before the creature took one of its paws and ran its razor sharp claws across his face, slicing one of his eyes in the process and leaving three gruesome gashes behind.
Shocked, Bucky-Mac dropped his gun and watched the creature lift his disfigured partner off the ground and pull one his arms clean off his body. The guy screamed in agony as his stump cascaded with blood and fell to the ground like a waterfall. He wiggled and twitched in pain, making several feeble attempts at breaking free of the creature’s grasp.
Bucky-Mac turned and started to flee. The big guy followed behind him, dashing right past me, and leaving me alone with the beast.
The creature turned and started to stare at me with those yellow eyes, still holding Bucky-Mac’s mangled partner in its hand. The fear and terror left me paralyzed. I couldn’t move.
I started to feel a little light headed, and keeping my eyes open became difficult.
The last thing I remembered before I passed out, was those glowing eyes and those sharp canines dripping with crimson.
When I woke up I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. I stood up and scanned the area, only to see the truck still beside me. The mangled bodies of the driver and passenger of the truck were laid out not too far away. But Bucky-Mac and the large guy were nowhere to be found.
The creature had disappeared too.
I wasted no time. Right away I started to run, trying to make my way out of that neck of the woods. While darting through the trees, I came across two more bodies, one slumped on its side and the other on its back.
I ran to one of the bodies and rolled it over using my foot. I almost screamed when I saw the face. It was Bucky-Mac, and he was unrecognizable. His face had been completely torn away, leaving nothing behind but his exposed and bleeding face muscles. His mouth was slightly open. Opened wide enough for me to see his one gold tooth.
The large guy’s torso had been torn open, his body sprawled out, eyes staring out into nothing but the darkness that surrounded him. Dried blood was caked all over his face and neck.
I heard some growls.
This caused me to start running again. I got a glimpse of a pair of yellow eyes hiding in the middle of some trees as I passed by. I ran faster. Then I heard multiple footsteps behind me.
It was following me.
I made it out of the woods and reached a street light out on the road, where I sat down on the curb and took some time to catch my breath. I didn’t hear the footsteps anymore so I assumed I was safe. I also glanced behind me again and saw nothing pursuing me.
That thing had all the time in the world to maul me to bits. It could’ve easily caught me while I was running…so why didn’t it?
For some reason I still felt a bit light headed. I rested my head on my hand. But while doing so I felt a rough substance on my forehead. I brought my finger to my face to see what I had touched. Something blue and dry.
Lipstick.
Someone kissed me.
My parents wondered where I was and wanted to know why I was getting home so late that night. I lied and said I went to a party after work. They were a bit upset that I didn't call and let them know what was going on. I was fine with that. I was just glad to be alive, and for the first time since forever I was happy to see them.
It was that night I realized I would be just fine staying with my parents for a while longer. I also decided that I had no problem working at the burger joint until I figured out what I really wanted out of life, and college just may be a possibility in the future.
I continued to faithfully show up to work and complete my shifts, and wait patiently for my senior year to come to an end.
Meanwhile, the authorities found Bucky-Mac and his men. Then they raided his drug house. No one could identify the cause of their deaths, or tell whether another animal or human was responsible. The story was all over the news, and it had people in town shook. Everyone kept talking about the gruesome killings until the end of the school year. Who or what might have done it was always up for debate.
To this day, no one knows that I was there to see it all. I always got uneasy overhearing someone at school talk about it.
Two weeks before prom I opened my locker to see a pink envelope lying on top of my books. I picked it up and saw Abatha's name written across the front. While tearing open the envelope I sighed and rolled my eyes, expecting to see something crude and belligerent.
There was a folded letter inside, and upon opening it my eyes went wide. My heart started racing, and I was shocked to my core. At the very top of the page was an imprint of lips with…
Blue lipstick.
Below that was a lengthy letter from Abatha, explaining how she really felt about me. How she's felt for a long time. In the last paragraph was something else that left me perplexed.
She was asking me out, and she wanted to be my girlfriend.
She..she also wanted to take me to prom.

Hello new/returning player! Whether you're considering buying or you've just installed it and don't know where to start, there's a good chance you have some questions about the game. I've been playing pretty much since launch, and since the Discord imploded and the in-game tutorial kinda sucks, I figured this would be a good place to put together a comprehensive guide to everything you need to know about Railroads Online. Feel free to scroll through the headings to find what you're looking for!
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Is it worth the money?
Railroads Online is exactly what it says on the tin and exactly what you see in the trailer. There are railroads, they are online, and you do have complete freedom to build your own railroad in a sandbox environment. If that's your cup of tea, try it! Steam's refund policy allows you to refund the game if you have less than 2 hours played and you've owned it for less than 2 weeks, so even if you don't like it when you start, you have a safety net. That said, this game is in early access. And, the regularly-updated branch is a beta to the early access, so it is seriously lacking polish in certain areas. This game is physics-based, and that can take a toll on performance for trains longer than a dozen cars, and the Beta branch reportedly has some people's GPUs on their knees. Updates also regularly introduce bugs, ranging from mildly amusing to make-sure-you-back-up-your-save-file. For some people that sort of thing is understandably not worth $35, while for others it gives the game character. I've gotten close to 10 hours of playtime for every dollar I spent on it, so obviously I'd be inclined to say it's worth it, but everybody's experience will be different.
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Note: The following guide is geared towards the Beta version of the game. This version has the most features, looks the best, and receives regular updates, though there are a number of known performance and stability issues. The majority of it still applies to both versions of the game regardless, though the largest changes have been to track laying.

Getting Started

Warning: Remember, this is Railroads Online. There is no "offline" mode, strictly speaking, but you can drag the "player limit" slider down to 1. If you're going to play with other people, use a password. If you ever forget to, and someone comes in and undoes all of your hard work, you will never forget again. You have been warned!
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Your first railroad
So, you've launched the game! Congratulations! Now what? Well, it's probably good to get yourself oriented first.
The game spawns you in on the spawning platform. The three tracks you've spawned next to are permanent, and they are where new equipment spawns when you purchase it. You are given Betsy, a flatcar, and $2000 for free, and the rest is left up to you.
Before you run any trains, you'll need to build some track to run them on. Take care here, because there is no edit tool; if you build something, the only way to change it is to delete sections and rebuild. Measure twice, cut once, and make it look nice the first time so you don't have to redo it later. Or something.
Press G to bring up the majority of your sandbox tools: Track Construction, Facilities, Locomotives (the shop), Demolish, Rerail, and Logging, plus the Respawn button. I will cover all of these tools in time, but for now, all you need to be familiar with are the Track Construction tab, the Demolish tool, and the Logging tool.
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Track Construction
Track laying in this game has been... fucky... for a long time. It's a LOT better now than it used to be, but I still recommend downloading RROx (Railroads Online Extended) and using the fast sprint cheat when you're building. It will save you hours (not to mention the other features it offers).
First of all, everything in this game except for rolling stock is FREE! Go nuts! Want to triple-track the main? You can! Want to fill the entire southern half of the map with water towers? Your call! Fun first, safety third. Anyway:
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In the Track Construction menu, you will be greeted by a bunch of track options. Feel free to place them wherever to get an idea of what they are.
The first row is, of course, 3 foot narrow-gauge rail. The I, II, and III varieties are identical except for the amount of ballast. I has some, II has a bit more, and III has a lot. On cliff faces, too much ballast can cause ugly clipping, so it's best to use tier I when you can and step it up if it's too short. The game will not let you place a node if the spline is not supported by ground or some other structure at every point.
The default building mode is spline mode. Click once to place the first node, and click somewhere else to place the second node. Boom! You've placed your first track segment. If you click on the ground, it will face whatever direction your UI currently says it's facing, but if you click on another piece of track it will do its best to connect to the other node as smoothly as possible. This can result in some janky turns if you're not careful, so keep that in mind. There are keybinds to rotate the endpoints to face the direction you want them to. Track will not snap to another track unless you see the glowing chain link icon above it. If you don't see it at first, walk around a little, staring at the desired connection point until you trigger the hitbox.
The other building mode is circle mode. It does what it says on the tin– your track will follow a circular arc with the radius you specify. Use smaller segments if you can, because for some reason the angles get weird if you try to do more than 90° in a single segment. In this mode, you can snap to existing track on your first click, but it will not snap to another track for your second click because it only cares about following the circle. This build mode is useful for a number of reasons, not least of which being the ability to see what your maximum turning radius is. A 30 meter radius is the minimum, but on your main line you should aim to stay above 60-100 meters to avoid derailments at high speeds.
Next in the menu: switches. If you know what trains are, you probably know what switches are. In RRO, if a switch is pointing one way, and you come in from the other, it will automatically align with you to let you through, unless A.) you are in a handcart, or B.) it is the 3-way stub switch. Also note that they are not perfect mirror images of each other (not sure how they managed to mess that up but oh well), which may cause problems when creating complex structures like yards.
The 90° crossover piece is your friend when designing parallel tracks. You can chain them together to ensure equal spacing, matching angles, or you can simply use them as placeholder nodes to snap your track to if you need to delete part of it. Two crossover pieces are far enough apart for two trains to pass each other comfortably, so it's handy for smoothing your double-tracks, if you choose to build them. The 45° crossover piece is also good, for when you want a spacer piece that's slightly longer than the 90°, or if you don't want your simple wyes to be a hundred feet across. (Still waiting on that 10° crossover, Astragon.)
Turntables are what you expect them to be. The plain Turntable I is small enough to fit in some tight spaces like yards, but a lot of locomotives will only fit on Turntable II. Turntables have historically been a bit buggy, particularly if you reload a save while something is on it, so be wary.
The bumper is a bumper. 'Nuff said.
Embankments are ballast without the rail. They're nice as decoration around the base of certain structures, or as filler in between the tracks in yards, or as ballast for bumpers and crossovers. You can also access a similar trackless version of the stone wall by using its drop-down menu.
Bridges and stone walls work exactly the same as ballast track: they will not allow you to place a node if the spline is not supported everywhere. However, there is a workaround for this: nodes can be supported by ballast. If you use small enough segments, 3 Ft Rail III can be used to cross gaps using just the previous segment's ballast as support. If you fill the gap with ballast, you can place your bridge on top of it, and then remove the ballast later. You can pretty it up with some stone walls as supports, if you want to.
​
And that's everything currently in the Track Construction menu! The Engine Shed and the Coaling Tower also have small pieces of track, but they are kept in the Facilities menu.
Note: You can make it to pretty much every industry in the game with less than a 3% grade. In real life, this is considered pretty steep, but in-game you can get away with even steeper track if you can't be bothered to work out the best path.
​
Demolish Tool
The demolish tool is delightfully simple. It deletes things! By default, it only deletes rail, but that can be changed with the drop-down menu. Be very careful using the "All" option-- you could accidentally delete your rolling stock.
​
The Logging Tool
The logging tool will probably be your second most-used tool, right after track construction, because everywhere you want to place track, there are trees in the way. You can click almost anywhere on the tree to remove it, and it does this for free, but you might have trouble removing a tree if the bottom two-thirds of it are buried in ballast. If spam-clicking feels tedious, you can hold down the mouse button until the saw finds a part of the trunk that it likes.
​
That should be everything you need to know to build your first railway!
​

Industries

In Railroads Online, your objective is money. Moneymoneymoneymoneymoneymoney. But u/Embite, I hear you ask, how do I GET money? Well, I'm glad you asked! The answer is industries.
There are 9 industries in RRO, which you can see on the map: the Smelter, the Sawmill, the Logging Camp, the Freight Depot, the Iron Ore Mine, the Oil Field, the Ironworks, the Refinery, and the Coal Mine.
Each industry has inputs and outputs. For example, the Logging Camp has two output platforms: one for logs and one for cordwood. To load a car with the output, simply position your railcar where the crane drops the cargo and click the crane to start loading. For some outputs like the iron mine, there's a chute instead of a crane, but it's the same idea. When you unload a car, the cargo teleports to the side you clicked on, so make sure you're standing on the platform that you want to deliver to.
The inputs and outputs for each industry is listed in the table below.
​

Location	Input	Output
Freight Depot	Anything	Nothing
Logging Camp	Nothing	Logs, Cordwood
Sawmill	Logs	Beams, Lumber
Iron Ore Mine	Beams, Lumber	Iron Ore
Smelter	Iron Ore, Cordwood	Raw Iron, Rails
Coal Mine	Beams, Rails	Coal
Ironworks	Lumber, Raw Iron, Coal	Steel Pipes, Tools
Oil Field	Beams, Steel Pipes, Tools	Crude Oil
Refinery	Lumber, Steel Pipes, Crude Oil	Oil Barrel

You should notice a few things:

1. Logging Camp has no inputs. This is where the supply chain of RRO starts. The lumberjacks do all of their work for free, and they will never run out of logs, or cordwood.
2. Freight Depot (the big warehouse near spawn) has no outputs. This is where you can return to sell whatever products you've collected and turn them in for straight cash. You get the same amount of money regardless of which buyer you send cargo to, so it's recommended that you try to deliver to another industry whenever possible, since you get money AND more cargo to sell, rather than just the money. If all you need is money though, the Freight Depot is where to go.
3. There is a clear progression from one industry to the next. I've ordered the table so that once you've connected to one industry in the list, your railroad will have access to all of the cargo needed for the next industry down.

While it's best to try and deliver to new industries whenever possible, sometimes (especially early on) you will simply run out of money for all the new railcars you need to haul the stuff. For the early game, my best suggestion is to run beams from the sawmill straight to the freight depot. Stake flats (which carry beams) are among the cheapest rolling stock, and each carload is worth $72, compared to $60 for a flatcar of logs. You only need 3 beams per car, so it's fast to load and unload. While cordwood is also easy to do, with each carload worth $80, each flat is much more expensive to buy, and each car carries 8 units of cordwood, making the loading time much longer. Plus, many more industries use stake flats than the cordwood flats, so you will be investing in the future of your railroad as you go.
Another way to make money in RRO is via Firewood Depots and Coaling Towers, which brings us to the next available construction tool,
​
Facilities
Facilities are buildings you place down yourself to facilitate the management of your railway. At the top of the menu are the Sand House, the Firewood Depot, and the Coaling Tower. They're very self-explanatory: The Sand House contains sand to refill your locomotive's sander, the Firewood Depot is where you restock on firewood, and the Coaling Tower is where you restock on coal. The Sand House is, as far as I can tell, unimplemented as of 5/29/2023, but the others are very important. In RRO, you need to produce the fuel that runs your railroad.
Firewood Depots are easy to stock, not least of all because they spawn in full of firewood, in case you run out in the middle of nowhere. To refill a Firewood Depot that has been exhausted, you simply unload any form of wooden cargo (logs, lumber, beams, or cordwood) onto the side of the platform that doesn't have firewood on it. When designing your yards, it's always smart to make space for a firewood depot, because the platforms are spaced far apart and most locomotives in RRO run on firewood.
Coaling towers do not spawn in stocked with coal, and coal is not available until about half of the map is connected by your railroad, so coal-fired locomotives will be a late-game commodity. Once you have access to them, though, they are restocked in much the same way as firewood depots.
Water towers are also important. Without water, your trains have no steam, so place these wherever they're convenient. They refill slowly on their own.
Engine sheds are purely cosmetic in this game, since the locomotives don't require servicing or shelter. They are, however, available in a variety of nice paint schemes, and a roundhouse is a great way to spruce up any boring-looking switching yards.
The last facility is the Telegraph Office, which is the most convenient structure in the game. Wherever on the map you place one, your map will be updated with a brown box with a T in it. Clicking his box allows you to teleport to any telegraph office from anywhere else in the game, saving you a lot of walking between industries and yards.
​
Locomotives (the shop), and Companies
The shop is where you use your hard-earned money to buy locomotives and rolling stock. You can check your funds in-game by pressing P. The "tier" of an item is the level your player needs to be in order to purchase it. Your level increases every time you deliver cargo to an industry. When other players join your game, they can join your company by pressing Tab and clicking "Join Company" next to your name. When they do this, any delivery they make will count as a delivery for you, not them, which increases your money and XP much faster than doing it all alone. Employment is forgotten when the player relogs.
​
Rerailing
Rerailing is finicky. Basically, you click "rerail," spam LMB on whatever you're trying to rerail until its name appears in the UI, and then walk around looking at track until it appears where you want it to. You can flip it around with LMB, and then drop it with RMB. Rerailing on switches currently seems to be a little broken.
​
Respawning
This option will send you back to the spawn yard if you ever manage to get stuck. It was more useful before telegraph offices were added, and most of the gamebreaking ways to get stuck have been patched, but if you want to use it you simply click and hold until you respawn.
​

Trains!!!!!!1!1!!!

Now, with a line of track connecting your spawning yard with the logging camp, you're ready to finally fire up your Porter 0-4-0 and run some trains! In case you're new to operating a steam locomotive, here's a quick rundown of the controls:
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Controls
First, open up the firebox and throw a few logs on the fire. Pick up logs with LMB, look at the firebox until the UI displays its temperature in the top left, and throw with RMB. You can throw logs back onto the pile if you picked up too many (you can hold up to 5 at once). Now you have to wait for the fire to heat up, which then makes the boiler heat up, and then you will finally see the dial on your pressure gauge increase. Once you've got pressure, you can move the locomotive.
The big lever above the firebox is the regulator, aka the throttle. It basically controls how fast your built-up steam enters the cylinder, or in other words, how much power you're sending to the piston, and by extension, the wheels.
The lever coming out of the floor is the reverser (or the Johnson bar), which controls at what point in the cylinder's stroke steam is allowed to enter the chamber. All the way forward means that steam comes in anytime it would push the wheels forward, and all the way back means that steam comes in anytime it would push the wheels backwards. In between, it controls whether the steam flow is constant, or if it comes in short bursts. Or, at least, that's how it works in real life. IRL you can achieve more efficient steam usage by setting the reverser bar near the middle and letting the regulator stay open; however, in RRO, as far as I can tell it simply multiplies the % the regulator is open and the % that the reverser is set and uses that number as the "go amount." So, for all intents and purposes, the reverser is just another regulator (in RRO).
The lever to the right of that is the brake. Betsy (i.e. the Porter 0-4-0) has a mechanical brake, meaning it applies braking force as long as you have it on. In some locomotives, though, the brakes are powered by a steam-powered compressor, which you need to activate yourself via a valve somewhere, or else your brakes will have no effect.
The whistle and the bell do as you expect. There is another handle which opens the cylinder cocks, which as of 5/29/2023 is purely cosmetic, as are the sanders. IRL, cylinder cocks are used to blow condensed water out of the cylinders, and sanders are used for extra traction in slippery conditions.
Finally, most locomotives have lamps that you can turn on and off with LMB, or by using the steam-powered generator, if it has one.
And that's pretty much it! Different locomotives have different features, and levers are often in slightly different places, but they all operate on the same general principles. Locomotives are also often specialized for a particular job. For example, engines like the Eureka are specialized for high speeds with low power, while engines with shorter wheel bases like the D&RGW Class 48 are specialized for sharp turns and yardwork, while the geared locomotives like shays and heislers are specialized for steep tracks in mountainous terrain. You can find a number of resources online to find statistics for each of the different RRO locomotives.
​
Coupling
The 3 foot narrow-gauge railway in RRO uses what is called "Link and pin" coupling, which uses, unsurprisingly, links and pins. To couple two cars together, you need enough space to fit a link between them. Press LMB to insert a link in the coupler. Only one car should have a link. Once the link is in place, push the cars together and use RMB to place a pin in both couplers. Et voila! Your train is now longer.
Tender locomotives have unique couplers. First of all, instead of a link, tenders are connected to the cab by a drawbar. Press LMB on the tender, then back up the locomotive and use RMB to hitch it to the drawbar with a pin. For locomotives with cowcatchers, the front is outfitted with a drawbar as well, which can be extended and retracted with LMB. This link is weaker than the usual link-and-pin, so only use this for short, slow trips or yardwork.
​

External Tools

While straight-up modding RRO is currently very difficult, there do exist certain external tools to help provide you with a more enjoyable experience with a game that is, at times, excessively grindy.
RROx
RROx, or Railroads Online Extended, is by far the most useful RRO extension I've come across. It offers a real-time minimap (that maps your rail lines for you!), remote control of locomotives, cranes, and switches, unrestricted teleporting, cheats like free money, fast-sprint and flight, as well as optional access to all of these features for other RROx users that join your game. It even provides everything necessary to create a plugin of your own, if you're so inclined.
​
Railroad Studio
railroad.studio is a free online save file editor for RRO. With it you can replace trees, rename/repaint locomotives and rolling stock, delete track, cheat in money, etc. Currently the go-to save editor.
​

Technical Bits

Just some extra technical bits that are worth knowing:

• A lot of the game's files are stored in your AppData/Local folder under the name arr, a name inherited from the devs' previous game, American Railroads.
• Your save files are stored in %localappdata%\arr\Saved\SaveGames.
• A number of config settings are stored in plaintext .ini files in arSaved/Config/Windows, where you can edit settings like the maximum view distance beyond what is usually allowed. The maximum setting typically allowed is 3, but I've increased this to 10 without any notable performance drop. Nevertheless, edit settings beyond supported values at your own risk. The game needs to be restarted for settings changed in this way to take effect.

​

Miscellaneous Tips

• All controls can be rebound in the controls menu.
• You can change your POV with V, and you can lean left and right with R and T.
• If you prefer to drive with the GUI instead of in first person, you may have an easier time finding the button prompt by standing in front of the locomotive rather than inside it.
• Placing a switch, then a 45° on the turnout, and finally another switch so that the straight edge is parallel with your first switch, creates two lanes that are far enough apart to fit the switch's lever on the inside.
• If you back far enough away, track and ballast hitboxes will despawn and let you place things inside of them.
• There is a large, flat plateau northeast of the smelter that is a convenient place for a yard connecting the smelter, iron mine, and coal mine.
• There is a lot of space for a yard just over the hill west of the freight depot.
• The un-deletable track southeast of the spawning track is for the shop.
• The game keeps a list of every tree you've cut down and uses this to load the map, which (allegedly) makes the game take longer to load if you cut more trees than you need to. Use a save file editor like railroad.studio to replace missing trees.
• The walkway on Bridges II is always on your left as you build it.
• You can snap track to turntables if you rotate it to where you want the connection to be.
• Firewood depots only replenish the piles if every pile is missing at least 5 logs.
• If you're strapped for cash, loading a car with logs and then immediately unloading that car to a firewood depot on the other side is fast, easy money. This is pretty cheaty though, so you might as well save yourself some time and just use a save file editor.
• A switch's turnout is about 10 degrees.
• Locomotives don't respond to changes in the controls until a 1-second timer counts down. The timer resets every time you make a change, but letting go (releasing left-click) applies the change immediately.

​
That's pretty much everything I've got. I hope that this guide has been of use to you! If I forgot something, got something wrong, or you have an idea for how to improve this guide, feel free to leave it as a comment below. Happy railroading!

there was an experiment or smth, 2 3 months ago, where some flatties paid $20000 to prove the earth is flat and the result was: it's round. how do you feel about this? do you think they were paid to lie? do you still think it's flat? don't you have doubts? and why would everyone believe from the beginning of time that it's round if it's not? do you think you're smarter than roundies? also, Jules Verne has the book "Around the World in 80 Days", why do you think it was named that and not "Along the World"? also, why every globe that presents the planet is, well, round? just a way for the government to trick us? also, why do you think the majority believes that the earth is round and only a few that it's not? and how could the earth be round and us not seeing Dubai from England or anything from anywhere? a flat place means a flat place, everything can be seen with your eyes. but can you see those from far away? or if you go up a hill how could you? isn't it flat so impossible to climb cause you know, it's a line, how could you go up or down when it's a line? you can't, exactly. how could you walk into deep woods and all the trees are at different heights? shouldn't they be in a line, all at the same height? how could you fall from a high hill? isn't it, well, again, flat, a line? you can't fall from the hill because the hill doesn't exist since the earth is flat. and the last and most important question, what's your proof? and I mean, obvious proof, not saying "look at the beach" or "why there's not any video from someone going around the world to show it's round" because that's not proof. I need proof to change my beliefs, you saying we're stupid and random stuff that doesn't really prove anything doesn't make me change them. I need facts, true pictures, true anything to be sure you are right and not us.

AITA for pooping on a hike?
Last weekend my brother (43M) and I (41M) made a date to go to a pub far away (5 miles, but over a big hill). It's something we do every so often in the better weather when he's in the area. We vary pubs, but it's always a nice afternoon that gives us a nice sense of satisfaction when we get to the pub and sit down for a couple of hours to have a few scoops and some scran.
So we leave my house and start heading through the countryside and get to the big hill, which is about halfway. I don't know why, but my wife's chilli often gives me the squirties the next day (I think I might be allergic to pulses) and unfortunately for me, she had made it for us the night before.
As we started heading up the big hill, I could feel that my bowels were not happy, and let my brother know. He didn't really seem to care, kept soldiering on and chatting away about various things. After a few minutes it felt like I was having contractions. I had to stop and hold on to the fence, much to his bemusement.
'I'm going to blow' I said, 'have you got any tissue?'. He said he didn't, he had a hanky, but refused to give it to me. He looked offended that I had even asked, and said I should just hold it in. Time was of the essence, so I hopped over the fence, waddled out of view into the trees and relieved myself. Once I had done my best to clean myself up, I headed back to the path, but my brother wasn't there. I figured he had kept on walking to give me a bit of privacy, so I pushed on up the hill.
When I got to the top he wasn't there, and I couldn't see him ahead on the way down. I gave him a call, and he didn't answer, so I kept walking. Once I got to the pub, he wasn't sat outside, so I went in and again he wasn't there. I started to wonder if he had gone to the other pub in the village, so after doing a bit more cleaning in the toilet, I got a pint and gave him another call. Again no answer. I sent him a message, then called my wife.
She answered, and told me that my brother had just got back to our house. She was gardening, and was confused why he was back. He told her about what happened, and said that he was pissed off I would just poop out in the open (I was concealed by trees). Apparently my wife chewed him out because she knows how much I look forward to our pub trips (and how much her chilli can wreak havoc with me), but he got in his car and left.
I was upset, so told her I would head home once I finished my beer. 15 minutes later, just as I was finishing, she arrived at the pub so that I could still have a few beers, we had some food and she drove us home. I really appreciated her joining me, and promised I would help with the garden the next day.
I didn't message my brother, but he apparently messaged other people as various people in my family including my parents have been in touch since telling me off for pooping in someone's garden (it wasn't anyone's garden, it was public land) and abandoning my brother.
AITA?
​
Not sure why this got deleted from AITA and AITBF, hardly hardcore?
Also, that wasn't me that posted the link on eFests, that's someone shit stirring. I posted my write up on hobby drama and then on the glastonbury subreddit. I made some corrections based on the discord chat, and now using my lunch to re-up this ffs. I didn't expect it to go down well with either side, I just wanted to write something up for the history books lol.
I'm probably going to stop posting from this account now, probably. It doesn't matter who I am.
And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

Dear Esteemed Sir or Madam,
I beg your pardon for the slight delay in my response, as I was most pleasantly taken aback by the contents of your missive. Pray, allow me to introduce myself as William Alexandira Poorman, or simply, Wilem A. Poorman. 'Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, albeit through this digital ether.
Firstly, I must convey my utmost gratitude for your most generous proposition. Your purported wealth has instilled in me an unbridled joy, akin to a merry squirrel stumbling upon an oak tree laden with acorns. Verily, the prospect of financial gain hath filled my humble heart with an indescribable mirth.
However, I must confess that I find myself in a most peculiar predicament. Alas, the wheels of fate have conspired against me, and I find my coffers bereft of the conventional currency thou desirest. Instead, I am constrained to request an alternative form of remuneration – the ethereal wonders known as Steam cards.
Fear not, dear sir or madam, for this unusual request comes with good reason. You see, in my quaint abode, nestled amidst rolling hills and chirping birds, I find great solace in the realm of virtual entertainment. The flickering glow of pixels and the melodious symphony of digital adventures have become my refuge from the travails of the mortal coil.
Should you be amenable to this modest alteration in the exchange of fortunes, I shall humbly accept thy offer with open arms, like a wayward minstrel embracing a fiddle. Pray, enlighten me as to the specifics of this transaction, that I may make the necessary preparations to ensure a seamless and harmonious transaction.
Until we correspond again, I remain, with utmost anticipation,
Yours faithfully, Wilem A. Poorman

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Chapter Summary: Scopes: Borzun sneaks a signature from her superior to pass on to the Fleet Admiral
First Contact: Human Security Forces Patrol gets dispatched to investigate the radio signals, and are killed. They do not get a report off, but go missing

Scopes

On Board Space Station 13

"-Got a signal," Chief Data Officer Remec's live audio feed cut out from the video she was richly enjoying, the interruption immediately spoiling her lovely, if otherwise lonely weekend night.
"What was that?" She choked out, lurching awkwardly in the low gravity. She may have been off her shift, but if she was being bothered now... It had better be important.
The Chief Data Officer muted herself on the new local call, a wave of the hand switching her mic back to what she had been watching. She whispered an apology to the cam-boy, and paused their private session, guilt wracking her, Some part of her mind liked to believe that he genuinely would miss her.
Using the fully immersive setup for this constituted a degree of misuse of her equipment, but she was far from alone in the practice.
Supposedly, low gravity enabled all kinds of exotic positions, and she intended to take full advantage of the noiseproof cabins each Data Officer was provided. Curiosity had given way to vague plans after enough sessions. First, she was thwarted from having alone time with the Asset. Now, she felt she was building trust with one who had caught her eye.
The special bodysuit may have kept her insulated against the faulty old air ducts' temperamental nature as she moved about the station from office to office, but it was restrictive and uncomfortable. More consequentially, taking it off and putting it on was noisy, if not easy to do quickly for the sake of any emergencies that might happen on-board a ship.
The bodysuit's crinkling finally tapered off after wrapping itself around her form with an almost vacuum seal firmness, and she switched on her camera, hoping she didn't appear flushed or sweaty. Borzun's gracile, almost-masculine face filled the main view screen.
"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said. I think the comms array on this old hulk's finally starting to give out," her junior officer apologized.
Great. If Borzun went ahead and filed a report, that would require an inspection. Remec silently mourned the waste of credits. Even if it wasn't her purse, Remec knew she had a limited number of credits she could skim for 'Cultural Research' before someone would take notice, especially if the allotment for maintenance didn't amount to enough to effect so simple a repair.
"Perhaps it was just a software bug. I can hear you just fine, you can hear me, right? I was just asking: 'What seems to be the issue?'" Remec fibbed and tried to change topics in the same breath.
"We've got a rogue signal, unencrypted. Apparently the emergency radio system has been hijacked, priority one ticket from the surface."
She lamented that with this potentially pending repair bill hanging over her head, she couldn't tap it for the bribes she'd need to sneak him, or someone like him up here like she'd hoped. What a waste.
"'Priority one'?"
"Ma'am, please, we have to hurry, it's an emergency," Borzun's shamelessly pleading voice was grating, and Chief Data Officer Remec forced herself to not grunt in annoyance at being addressed in that tone, and she shook her head free of the mental cobwebs and out of the pleasant, lingering tingles of the afterglow. What a terrible way to come down from such heights.
"Yes, I'm aware what a priority one is. I was just...settling another fight between The Decimals. Apparently their Data Teams are threatening to hurl themselves out their airlocks, just so that they can board the other's space stations and attack each other."
"Of course, ma'am. I did hear they'd recently been placed upon separate vessels. This isn't about that, though."
Remec almost felt insulted that Borzun sounded almost like she didn't believe her; The excuse was grounded in truth well enough. Her last meeting having been a debriefing of what went on at Space Station 92. It had been split into decimals, 92.2, 92.4, and '92.6', or 'Data Team Balkans,' as they were now known, with the probability they'd soon need a 92.8 just to cover the same geographic are of what had once been just 'Satellite 92.'
Apparently the posting had been an unending migraine for their poor Chief Data Officer, and equally as frustrating for the General on the ground who found her troops making a show of firing ineffectually at units from other postings to curry favor with the locals. Remec could still hear the seething tone of their Chief Data Officer, "I don't care how effective it is at ingratiating yourself with them, firing your weapon at other law-abiding Shil'vati without provocation is still a crime! It is considered what civilian governing authorities call a 'War Crime' on this planet! No, being a 'War Criminal' is not 'Based,' and their continued existence is not a provocation! It could potentially violate our treaty with Earth's government! Other factions could legally have grounds to jump in to conduct 'peacekeeping'!"
Borzun's expression seemed pensive- lost in thought despite the so-called emergency that had pulled Remec away from her fantasy.
The only consolidation she had was that as bad as things were for Space Station 13 presently, at least their problems were temporary, and confined to the planet's surface.
"What's the issue? I already read that the Public Address signal was hijacked. Just reset it." That didn't require bothering her.
"We did," the young svelte Data Officer offered apologetically, skin looking more blue than purple in the artificial light. "No effect. We need them turned off for now, and that requires your clearance. The message is instructing the insurgent humans how to resist, and is spreading disinformation that we are kidnapping everyone. That's greatly hampering the efforts of the Governess-General, so she really wants this done, fast."
"It's not 'everyone'," the commanding officer snorted in annoyance. "It's a...couple dozen thousand." The number was high, she had to admit, and still climbing. Quite an impressive percentage of the state's small population. She had a nagging sense that an even larger pile of work was about to be placed squarely on her desk for all this mess, and fought to resist dumping the resentment she felt at this near-certainty on her subordinate, when simply dumping the paperwork would be far more productive.
"It's certainly distressing the local population, causing a great deal of unrest. Even the reinforcements that were deployed to Delaware may find themselves embroiled in riot control," Borzun agreed readily enough, though she sounded somewhat distracted as she spoke, her eyes flicking to the side, likely as she prepared the form signature. "Since it's an emergency system, that requires an override, and since it's a communications signal, that's our domain."
"Done," she muttered, signing it without even reading and giving it a hand gesture. and felt grateful that at least Borzun was efficient in her interruptions. So much better than dealing with the Asset, who remained under the Marines' lock-and-key, but kept trying to lodge all kinds of complaints and empty threats. The file disappeared off her desk just as quickly as it had appeared, and Borzun seemed relieved to have gotten her permission.
Hope blossomed in the bosom of Remec that this would be over fast enough to rejoin the session.
"Was that all?"
"Sent," Borzun chirped, though her face was mirthless. "There's also the matter of local shortwave radio signals. We've been operating on orders to jam the channels, but they are operating on military bandwidths reserved for use of security forces and other agencies, but are clearly local individuals. This is in defiance of local and federal law. Again, that will require clearance to do so. Human authorities consider this quite a significant breach of law."
"You have my permission to shut those down, too, or otherwise jam them."
"Rather than shutting them down by jamming, since they seem to just jump channels and crowd the airwaves further, Lieutenant Goshen- sorry, Captain Goshen and Lieutenant Lesha believe that this presents an opportunity to steer us toward their points of origin, and to add them to any prosecutions we mount on the arrested, and to make up for the missing data we lost when the Data Center was destroyed. We can try mobilizing small task forces to isolate the busier signals and disrupt them. That won't drain womanpower too much, and might even bring peace to the state. Or, we may end up achieving Azraea's goal of flushing the rebels out, and finding others who are sympathetic to the insurgency and bringing them to justice. At the least, it might reclaim some equipment out of their hands, temporarily crippling their ability to continue coordinating before the 'primary' election."
"I see. So you're asking me to not shut the signal down, in case anyone else asks. Is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am. If the signal is jammed, they'll jump channels, and we may lose information we're gathering, too."
"Alright, sure. I'll refuse any requests to shut them down, make sure the officers are informed to not lodge such requests to us." Anything to get her moment alone back. "And Borzun? Just a reminder; You don't need my permission to cooperate with the Governess-General's forces or to comply with her orders," Remec added. She noted with mounting irritation she had enough time to restart the session, but that the timer was ticking down, while Borzun didn't hang up.
"These ones seem to be live signals, delivering instructions to teams and coordinating chaos. Can I be dedicated to that, and use your clearance to utilize visual scanning once the sun rises? I may be requested to guide patrols to investigate these."
Remec was almost ready to pull her hair out. Visual observation from the satellites was always fiercely resisted by noblewomen. She almost denied the permission, but knew Azraea's wrath would likely follow if the Data Teams were held back on her orders. Like she doesn't hate us enough.
"Are they evacuated?"
"Who?"
"Who do you think I mean, the Empress? I'm asking if the Noblewomen from Delaware are still there, of course!" Remec finally snapped, and the slender Data Officer recoiled as if she'd been slapped by the rebuke.
"As-a-aah...yes, ma'am?" Borzun tried. "The order was sent out, I believe all families are off-world, spare one. They're apparently looking for a girl, gathering the family before liftoff per the evacuation order, but I've got two files here? Must be a clerical error."
A judgment call, then, but a simple one.
"Fine. Permission granted. But keep your gaze confined to areas of operations, and only if you think it would help an already active operation. Don't let your curiosity get the better of you."
"Yes ma'am," Borzun reported, sounding overly-repentant. Naturally, fragile Borzun wished to dodge witnessing or working with the unpleasantness of rounding up terrorists. Likely she'd been hoping for a 'no.' "What if I find and intercept a signal? Should I trace it?"
The content of the signals they'd shut down and guided to the interior after intercept were likely disturbing, and Borzun was undeniably among the softest of those aboard the old relic that served as Space Station 13. Remec had hoped the girl would have gained some toughness in Earth's gravity, or at least a hardened heart from being in approximate proximity to a terrorist strike's explosion. Then she might have learned to understand what a terrorist riddled state truly meant, and the necessity of their duties, but instead the opposite had happened. She'd come back with an even softer spot for the humans.
Oh well, there was little point in having a potential sympathizer in such a position or subjecting her subordinates to it out of some vague, unhelpful cruelty. Maybe more exposure would finally do her good. Toughen her up, and get her to stop crying to her seniors whenever something went wrong. Remec, sign this. Remec, can I do that? Now that Remec thought about it, even the level of permission she'd been bothered for didn't require her signature- Borzun was senior enough to shut down signals on her own.
"Of course. Find the signals, the broadcasters, and shut them down locally, if you know what I mean."

They Say First Contact's the Hardest

[Meanwhile, back at Camp Death...]
The staccato pops of gunpowder rifles sent me from 'fast asleep' to wide awake in a heartbeat.
I threw the blanket and sleeping bag off of me, boots flopping loosely after I'd left them undone to avoid cutting off my circulation as staggered to my feet, finding my way to standing tall but disoriented.
The muffled crack of energy weapons being discharged responded, and I ran to the light- finding myself staring out at the almost empty stream below. I doubled back just in time to hear deafening responses of rounds fired from railguns split the air.
I passed over the hard dirt floor, pushed my way past a sentry who had come to find me, and climbed up the trench ladder to watch, dozens of others pushing their way out from the claustrophobically packed bunkers and tunnels to see the commotion.
Blinking the sleep from my eyes and grateful for the rapidly adapting shaded lenses, I saw distant figures pushing their way through the tall grasses as ever more rounds began to fire at them, several charging down from Camp Death and running them down where they fell, chasing the path of beaten down grasses to finish the job.
Maybe they were true loyalists. Maybe they were just well-trained. Maybe they came from countries long locked in bitter civil wars, where surrenders led to fates worse than dying on one's feet. Whatever the reason, the last of them finally staggered and fell. None of them had even tried to surrender. I could respect that, even if I found myself on the other end of the conflict as them.
By the position of the sun and season, I guessed it might be around six in the morning, and we'd just had first hard contact- that I was aware of.
Shit.
I looked over to Radio's pile of equipment, a masked insurgent with the golden stripe of yellow electrical tape wound around their mask to indicate their role flashed me a thumbs up. I approached the sentry after seeing no more movement, hearing the distant gunfire as insurgents fell upon the Security Forces soldiers with zeal. I didn't hear any more lasgun fire. "Please tell me that was turned on," I gestured to the jammer.
"They were spotted on approach from the field. I powered on the jammer in the way I was instructed. They promptly stopped advancing on us, likely having lost contact with their superiors, and began to turn back before coming up the hill. We decided it was better than letting them wander out of jammer range and summon reinforcements."
"Good," I muttered. I could see G-Man poking his head out of the Command Cabin. Had he and George put that idea in my head just to steal my bed off me? I shook my head. George wasn't that underhanded; Not that I minded. He'd had a rougher day than almost anyone.
"Haul them and their equipment in. Get any wounded of ours to the doc bot. We can interrogate them."
The sentry gave a hand on heart. "Sir."
And so the first blood had been drawn. The squad was only six soldiers, I learned. Half a squad, or two 'pods.'
In the time since last night, the slow trickle of ones-and-twos had turned into a steady stream pouring into Camp Death. Now that the morning shone through the thick trees ringing our little forest. I wondered idly if the trees had always been so- certainly it didn't seem to me Verns had ever mentioned such heavy machinery as to bring those trees, and my swing of a hatchet hadn't even caused the bark to split off from the trunks.
Knowing I was stalling, I paced the ramparts, delivering quick reminders, last second orders to the new arrivals. Eventually it became clear even to me that I was being more of an annoyance than helpful leader; The sentries knew their duties well. So I resigned myself to dutifully patrolling the grounds, never far from the radio tower, nor the ramparts, keeping a chest puffed out and a brave face again, occasionally striking a pose as I squinted through my mask, as if I could make the enemy materialize.
I dared not call it a facade, no matter how true it might've been.
[Author's Note: Almost did it again, had to delete the first attempt at a post because I left in too much.]
All Chapters First Chapter of Alien-Nation Previous Chapter

Previous landlord was a private owner and while he had a reputation of not returning deposits, he would only let people with 700 credit scores move in.
Things were quiet and chill.
New management took over and they really just started letting whoever move in who can afford it. Now we got hill billys always working on their trash heap vehicles in the lot. (I love rural and country life but these guys are the shade tree type)
Any way it's been ok but I got this slob woman with blue hair beneath me and really I don't care.
But the other day I parked in a usual spot. Mind you the lot does not have painted parking lines and often we give each other enough space, usually more than a standard parking spot.
I pulled into the open gap which was probably the width of 1 and 3/4s parking spaces, not really enough for two cars let alone my SUV and her piece of shit 2006 Chevy avalanche.
So I park in the middle and Jabba was talking to a neighbor in her shit mobile and yells out "hey can you move over! You're taking up two spots!"
I look at the space on either side of my vehicle, then over to all the empty spaces in the lot and say "uh no problem"
I moved my car over and she then parks next to my car. I go to my passenger side to let out my dog and of course there is 0 space for her to open her door with mine open. So I take a bit longer than usual so she has to sit in her car and think about her actions.
Meanwhile the rest of the week, her shit car has been taking up the same "two spots" she accused me of taking...
She's obese, rude and obviously has a shit life so I just leave it alone but half of me wants to call her out but it's not worth it in my small community
Just wanted to vent

Mud and rain accompanied Edmund and his new companion as they walked along the railway track, exiting the tunnel and seeing the familiar broken railway bridge up ahead. Edmund motioned for Artur to duck behind the nearby rusted train carriage with him. Dozens of military men walked around up ahead, moving around equipment and talking amongst themselves. The lack of military stalkers worried Edmund. It was clear whatever was going on, the military were keeping it as clandestine as possible.
“You seen much of what these lot have been doing Artur?”
“Actually yeah…” Artur muttered, “Given that my previous posse figured me for a pussy I often got scouting duties. They figured if I didn’t have it in me to kill anyone, I could at least play lookout. They’ve been moving stuff around now for at least 3 weeks. Seem to want to lock cordon down tighter than a nun’s-”
Edmund interrupted the bandit before he could finish his vulgar quip.
“Three weeks you said?”
“Yeah man, three.”
Edmund’s sense of unease only increased, acutely aware that the massacre that had befallen his comrades had happened more recently than whatever it was that the military were doing.
“Ok what else Artur?”
“I dunno man. Just seen them moving weapons, including some turrets and the like. Seems like they are trying to fortify the bridge as their spot.”
“Whole of Cordon probably…”
“You reckon?”
“Yeah, they’ve got Agroprom and likely the swamps now, maybe have finally taken the train yard too. Mercs also gave them access to some of Dead City.”
“Fucking hell…you think they’re trying to take the zone?”
“Not all of it no, further north and to the east are still much too dangerous for whatever little forces Ukraine’s government can spare to go losing military in. If they were able to take the place in one go, we wouldn’t be here gallivanting around. It’s no secret the military simply does not have the funding or power to take the whole zone. Furthermore, from what I’ve heard from outside sources taking the zone is not popular for domestic policy and any politician who would have to explain to a mother why their run of the mill soldier son died in chernobyl would be out of a job in an instant.”
The cogs turned in the young bandit’s mind as he listened to Edmund’s very brief lesson on military politics in the zone.
“Thus why, other than the odd spec ops or military stalker, the military are content just to police the borders and stop people entering?”
“Exactly.”
Edmund began moving motioning for the bandit to follow as they darted to a nearby tree, then a boulder, moving as stealthily as they could. The bandit was hardly trained in stealth, but he was not clumsy neither, something that gave Edmund a small level of comfort.
“What’s the plan?” Artur whispered.
“Observe for now. Want to see if there is a way we can sneak past. A guard not paying attention or a swapping of post.”
Artur bit back the urge to ask Edmund what if no opportunity came. He did not want to piss off the one person who may be his ticket to getting out of the zone and he found that he oddly trusted the man, even if it was only due to seeing first hand what he was capable of.
Minutes turned into tens of minutes as the time passed, but no opportunity seemed to present itself. Military men were looking in all directions and Edmund had spotted no less than 32 men milling around, under and above the railway line, setting up defenses and otherwise just keeping watch.
Edmund looked at his watch, it would only be around another 2 hours until nightfall.
“Get comfy but not too comfy, we’re going to need to wait a few hours.”
The two men spent the next two hours waiting behind the rocky outcrop they had nestled behind with two completely different reactions. To Edmund, waiting for hours in one spot was nothing new, hell it was part of his training before he entered the zone. Artur was much less comfortable, constantly readjusting to stave off pins and needles, a mixture of boredom and anxiety making him constantly toss between wanting to do something and wanting to do nothing at all. Eventually night fell and lights that had been set up near the bridge swept the area, the noise of generators working off in the distance.
“Fuck man, they have spotlights?”
“Easy Artur, still much easier to get around than the light of day. Now get ready to run and stay low.”
“The fuck?” Blurted out Artur in panic. “Thought you said we were going to sneak?”
“No, what we are going to do, is run like fuck after I kill the lights ok?”
“You sure man?”
“Yes Artur, I’ve been watching these so called ‘soldiers’ for two hours and not spotted a single night vision device between them. They are about to go from eyesight adjusted for 1000 lumens to complete darkness and let me tell you those torches won’t show enough.
Two spotlights swept over toward the rookie village and two toward the direction of garbage. Only the former would need to be dealt with. Edmund took a breath, having already analysed exactly where he needed to shoot. The Mosin Nagant he had scavenged was not suppressed, so it would be immediately obvious that shots would be fired after the fact.
“Artur, down the grass, under the bridge and then back up form the right and beeline it to the outside of the Cordon, that’s where we’re going ok?”
Artur nodded wordlessly, a lump in his throat as he knew how dangerous things were about to get. Two Mosin Nagant shots rang out, everything left of the bridge being plunged into darkness as the two men ran as fast as their bodies could take them. Shouting ensued behind them, but the utter darkness of night and the long grass seemed to conceal them as short ranged flashlights shone hopelessly over random spots avoiding the two men. No shots rang out, but this did nothing to ease the two men’s feelings. Artur had already picked himself back up from a fall he had not even felt as they sprinted for under the bridge, careful to also stay away from the farmhouse. Edmund could afford himself a brief glance as they sprinted by. The farmhouse was definitely inhabited by military, a sizeable force although at a glance not as large as that of the bridge. Artur let out a yell, panickedly falling backward onto the ground. The blunder likely saved his life, an equally startled military man shooting above Artur where he was previously standing. Edmund had already shot the man in response, the bark of a sawed off killing what Edmund presumed was a scout of some kind. He hauled Artur up, barely breaking stride to quickly put another slug into the fallen military man’s skull to finish him off.
The two kept running, gasping from the exertion. Substance abuse had hardly been kind to Edmund’s body and Artur had never exactly trained his running much in life. Still, the two were fit enough to press on, emerging over the hill and seeing the glow of fires as nearby men chatted.
Thank fuck, Edmund thought to himself. The chatter was that of untrained men and as the two men approached the entrance, Edmund could see the mismatched clothing of Loners occupying the village.
“Freeze!” Yelled the guard stationed at the front, his sawed off drawn.
“Easy.” Edmund replied, through gasps of air. “Just trying to get away from the conscripts”
“And?!” The guard yelled sarcastically clearly on edge. It dawned on Edmund he was dressed up like a stereotypical bandit and so was his companion.
“Ah I get it man, I look like a bandit huh?”
“Yeah, you fucking do, put your guns down.”
“He’s not a bandit!” Artur piped up. “I am, so I’ll put mine down-”
Edmund admired Artur’s sudden bravery in sticking up for him, but motioned for him to keep his gun on him, now not being the time for him to try anything. Thankfully others had come over to see what all the ruckus was about, including Wolf.
“Wolf, get this rookie to ease off the trigger before he blows my fucking head off by accident.” Edmund ordered him.
Wolf was not sure who this bandit in front of him thought he was to order him around, but figured such a level of authority was worth at least hearing out. Wolf lowered the shotgun in the man’s hands.
“Did everything right keeping the gun trained on him, but we can relax now.”
The loner guard took the hint, relaxing his stance as the sawed off now pointed much less threateningly at the ground.
“How do you know who I am?” Wolf asked.
“Because I literally know you Wolf, just can’t reveal my identity for…well I can’t even tell you that until we are in private.”
“And why would I let you go in a room with only the two of us there?”
Edmund raised his hands walking slowly to Wolf as Wolf pulled out his pistol and aimed. Edmund was unfazed, walking slowly and calmly as he approached Wolf and whispered in his ear.
“It’s me, Edmund.”
Wolf holstered his pistol as quickly as he drew it, easing up at the sound of the name. He did not know Edmund a great deal, but had met him enough times to know he was an ally and a capable one at that. Wolf turned and addressed the rest of the Loners.
“These two are friends and are to be treated as such.”
With that one sentence, all guns were holstered, most loners simply returning to their fires, the more curious ones watching and listening. They would have to stay curious, Wolf ushering Edmund and Artur into a more private bunke basement of the area. The two men had a lot to discuss and Edmund owed Wolf an old favour…
​
Editor's note: Something a little less emotionally heavy given the last chapter. Not to say the theme will turn particularly happy, but the heavier stuff will take a backseat to conventional action and mystery...for now...