The Lexington Public Library has been doing an Android Development course that I volunteer with, and they have some Google developers talking at the next event. If anyone is interested here is the sign up link for the event tomorrow at 5p, Northside branch! https://lexpublib.libnet.info/event/8467850

Introduction of Kaghan Valley, KPK Pakistan

This is a blog post about my journey to Pakistan one of the most beautiful tourist attraction spots in Khyber pukhtoon khan province, District Manserha. KPK is renowned for its beauty and hospitality. The northern Pakistan areas are covered with mountains and lush green trees. It is an adventurous and eye-catching location for tourists. This area is full of tourists in summer; People from all over the world come and explore its beauty every year. KPK is not far from the capital city of Islamabad. It is a well-developed area with public transportation, telecommunication, and accommodation services. All services are available easily. People are well-educated and communicate in English as an international language. Overall, this place is good in terms of environment and services. As a tourist, I am going to explore rounding areas with images and written information.

The Beauty of Kaghan Valley, KPK Pakistan

This summer of 2023 my first destination is kaghan valley in the northern province of Pakistan. Kaghan is a famous destination in Pakistan for many reasons. In many historical books, we find kaghan a place of beauty and romance. Kaghan Valley is located in the Mansehra district of KPK. It is about 158 kilometers northeast of the capital city of Islamabad. This valley is full of the beauty of tall green trees, blue sky, and white snow-covered Himalayan mountains series. Landscapes and waterfalls make this place more beautiful for tourists. The best time to visit kaghan valley is in summer from the month of April to September because the rest of the months, these areas are covered with snow.

The Tourists Attraction Point Of Kaghan Valley Are:

Scenic Beauty: When you enter this beautiful valley, the mountains cool wind, clouds, and mountains well-come you there. Kaghan Valley is surrounded by towering mountains, lush green meadows, crystal-clear lakes, and flowing rivers. The picturesque beauty of the valley attracts nature lovers, adventure enthusiasts, and photographers. The first thing people like to run here and there. They feel excited and fun with the scenic beauty of kaghan valley. People love to take photos and make videos.
Lake Saif-ul-Malook: This stunning alpine lake is one of the major attractions in Kaghan Valley. Surrounded by snow-capped peaks, Lake Saif-ul-Malook is known for its turquoise waters and offers boating and hiking opportunities. Lake Saif-ul-Malook has a historical background. Local Poets use the beauty of saif-ul-malook in their romantic and natural poetry. In most of the local poetry, poets precise the beauty of this lake in their books. This place is the gift of nature for this world. Moreover, a Muslim Sufi saint Main Muhammad Bakhsh tells the story of the Egyptian price and local princes' love story. I must say If you are a tourist must go and check the history of Saif-ul-Malook in local libraries and on the Internet.
Babusar Pass: The highest tourist spot in this area, where you have only 3 months to visit from May to August. Babusar Pass is a high mountain pass located at an elevation of 4,173 meters (13,691 feet) above sea level. It connects Kaghan Valley with the Gilgit-Baltistan region and offers breathtaking views of the Himalayas. Babusar Top as I told you the top place in kaghan and most of the time weather is rainy and cloudy here.
Siri PAYE: Siri PAYE is a scenic plateau located near Shogran, another popular tourist spot in Kaghan Valley. It is famous for its lush green meadows, grazing horses, and panoramic views of Makra Peak. You can find here very beautiful horses.
Hiking and Trekking: If you love hiking and trekking as your favorite hobbies then come in June and July. Kaghan Valley is a beautiful place for hiking and trekking. Several trekking routes and trails lead to high-altitude lakes, glaciers, and peaks. The most famous trek in the region is the trek to Ansoo Lake, which is known for its unique tear-shaped formation.
Local Culture and Hospitality: Well not only here in all areas of Pakistan you will get the best hospitality culture. People love to serve you with a great heart. The people of Kaghan Valley are known for their warm hospitality and rich culture. Visitors can experience the local lifestyle, taste traditional cuisine, and witness colorful festivals celebrated in the area. I must say you need to shop from local markets and bazaars. Because you love to get discounts as tourists. It’s unexpected but people love to present gifts.
Activities in Kaghan Valley, KPK Pakistan
This area of Pakistan is full of activities. If you plan to visit Pakistan's northern areas, you need to plan a holiday trip. You need at least 10 days to complete only this kaghan area. You have local transportation facilities. I recommend you hire a local tourist Guide. Because locals are well aware of the area. The road network is good and you have internet services here. Kicking, trekking, boating, camping, dining, and local festivals are the best activities here in this area.

https://boingboing.net/2023/05/25/kansas-trans-bathroom-ban-immediately-turned-on-cis-woman-and-disabled-son-at-wichita-public-librarys-central-branch.html

Came across this page today. Hope fellow Burnabarians can partake in the future of Burnaby!
Summary: Every municipality in BC is required to have an OCP under the Local Government Act. An OCP is a City bylaw that guides the growth and development of a community over the long term. It provides direction on the key elements that make up a community, including land use, transportation, housing, environment, infrastructure, parks, agriculture, economic development, arts and culture, climate action, and more.
How to get involved: Survey link: The survey portion is opened until end of day July 17, 2023
Events: RSVP here June 14, 6:00-8:30pm: Nikkei National Museum and Cultural Centre June 15, 6:00-8:30pm: The Amazing Brentwood, June 20, 6:00-8:30pm: Bonsor Recreation Complex June 21, 6:00-8:30pm: Confederation Seniors’ Centre
Pop-Up events: Drop by a pop-up event near you when we take Burnaby 2050 on tour to community events, festivals, and gathering places: June 03: Hats Off Day June 04: Environment Week June 21: Indigenous People’s Day at Edmonds Park June 28 (2:30-7 pm): Cameron Recreation Complex June 30 (12-4 pm): City of Burnaby Kiosk at Metrotown July 01: Canada Day at Edmonds Park July 01: Canada Day at Civic Square July 08: Bob Prittie Metrotown Branch, Burnaby Public Library July 15 – 16: VSO & Opera In the Park

LPI (LP Information)' newest research report, the “Wireless Inductive Charging Pad Industry Forecast” looks at past sales and reviews total world Wireless Inductive Charging Pad sales in 2022, providing a comprehensive analysis by region and market sector of projected Wireless Inductive Charging Pad sales for 2023 through 2029. With Wireless Inductive Charging Pad sales broken down by region, market sector and sub-sector, this report provides a detailed analysis in US$ millions of the world Wireless Inductive Charging Pad industry.
This Insight Report provides a comprehensive analysis of the global Wireless Inductive Charging Pad landscape and highlights key trends related to product segmentation, company formation, revenue, and market share, latest development, and M&A activity. This report also analyzes the strategies of leading global companies with a focus on Wireless Inductive Charging Pad portfolios and capabilities, market entry strategies, market positions, and geographic footprints, to better understand these firms' unique position in an accelerating global Wireless Inductive Charging Pad market.
This report presents a comprehensive overview, market shares, and growth opportunities of Wireless Inductive Charging Pad market by product type, application, key manufacturers and key regions and countries.
https://www.lpinformationdata.com/reports/729690/wireless-inductive-charging-pad-2029
The main participants
Samsung
Apple
MAPTech
Energizer
QiConnect Ltd
Legrand
Belkin
NATIVE UNION
OtterBox
Scosche
Zagg
HUAWEI
Xiaomi
Shishang Creative
Ugreen Group
LanHe Technology
Pisen Electronics
ZIMI CORPORATION
Segmentation by type
15W
5W
Segmentation by application
Home
Shopping Mall
Restaurant
Hotel
Others
Key Questions Addressed in this Report
What is the 10-year outlook for the global Wireless Inductive Charging Pad market?
What factors are driving Wireless Inductive Charging Pad market growth, globally and by region?
Which technologies are poised for the fastest growth by market and region?
How do Wireless Inductive Charging Pad market opportunities vary by end market size?
How does Wireless Inductive Charging Pad break out type, application?
What are the influences of COVID-19 and Russia-Ukraine war?
LP INFORMATION (LPI) is a professional market report publisher based in America, providing high quality market research reports with competitive prices to help decision makers make informed decisions and take strategic actions to achieve excellent outcomes.We have an extensive library of reports on hundreds of technologies.Search for a specific term, or click on an industry to browse our reports by subject. Narrow down your results using our filters or sort by what’s important to you, such as publication date, price, or name.
LP INFORMATION
E-mail: [email protected]
Add: 17890 Castleton St. Suite 369 City of Industry, CA 91748 US
Website: https://www.lpinformationdata.com

Thanks u/TheWickedQueen_ for the commission!
This was a six dollar commission so once the commissioner gets a crack at the script it becomes public for anybody that wants it!
I've always kinda disliked the "sexy mafia dude/gal is all into you" cliche. I've always felt that criminals are either romanticized or demonized in fiction, like a slightly less creepy Madonna vs Whore complex. As somebody that grew up in an area with a lot of Ex-cons I wanted to make something more down to earth and explore what its like to be an ex-con a little bit ( I think I've just watched The Wire too much lol).
Also this city isn't based on any real place although I think its probably in the American rust belt somewhere. Its named after the city from Revolt of the Cockroach people
Archive: https://www.reddit.com/ASMRScriptHaven/comments/x9hb9v/script_archive/
If you like what I'm doing swing by my Ko-Fi! And DM me if you want a commission of your own! :https://ko-fi.com/timeraft
You've been coming to this seedy hole in the wall bar for a while, and it's not exactly for the food or the ambiance. No, it's because you've got a massive crush on the former-criminal-turned-bartender who runs the place. You know she doesn't see you that way, but for now, you're happy just to spend time with her and listen to her stories. But today, you'll realize just how badly she's misunderstood your intentions.
Dialogue
Context
SFX
Listener is a quiet shy type living in the inner city(probably early to late 20’s). Speaker is an ex mob boss turned bartender(Probably mid-30’s-early 40’s). They like spending time with the listener and telling stories, but they see a little more of themselves in the young person than they’d like.
And how's my favorite little regular customer on this hot summer night?
You feel that south wind blowing up Saginaw Highway? All hot and dry and smelling like the smog that usually stays way down in the valley? That means it's gonna be a scorcher. So make sure you stay hydrated tomorrow.
Rough day eh? I suppose I can relate. I admire you for sticking it out though, for what it's worth I never could myself. I never took to working, and I paid for it.
I’m surprised you don't have anywhere better to be. What I wouldn't give to be your age again, all alone just before sunset in the dog days of summer. You sure there's no pretty girl out there, just waiting on you to show up at her door and ask if she’s too busy for a little dancing?
No girl? Is there a boy?
Not that either eh? A good looking little thing like you with no place better to be than my little hole in the wall bar. Makes me wonder what you’re really after. I don't suppose you’re here for my pretty face either.
Sets glass on bar
Drink up kid, it's on the house. Finish it up and leave. Don't come round here no more.
Don't give me that look. It's not anything you did.
Listen, you're a good kid. You don't want to hear this, but you’re innocent. Pure as fresh fallen snow. I’d kill to get half of that innocence for myself.
I know you’ve figured out that my regulars are all criminals or ex-cons, they come in here to take a load off. Or sometimes talk shop. I don't care about them, they’re all too far gone for somebody like me to be able to pull them back, but I can stop you at least.
This isn't a place for somebody like you. So finish your drink. And leave.
You remind me of a younger me. The dissatisfied ambitious youngblood, who felt like they weren't going to get anywhere in life unless they were willing to take serious risks.
I spent a lot of time in a place just like this, trying to rub elbows with the people I looked up to.
I told you all the stories before, but what the hell, how about a refresher.
It took a while, but I got in and I was pretty good at it.
Real good.
There was a time not too long ago where I ran this whole neighborhood. Ran the numbers game for a while, that was safe but the returns weren’t the millions I dreamed of so I moved on to more dangerous stuff.
Turned out I was good at that too. Too good. People got hurt. I need you to understand that.
I hurt people. A lot of people. More than I ever got punished for.
And it got me what I wanted. Power. Money. Respect. Fear.
It couldn't last though. You can never be on top all the time.
The sheriffs and the staties couldn't touch me, but I got sloppy with my money and the revenuers locked me up. That's typically how it goes.
I spent ten years in Terre Haute, eight behind bars and two working at the baking powder factory. When I got back to Tooner Flats everything I built was gone, all I had left was this building. I’d never even been inside before. I just used it to launder money.
You ever spend any time in a prison? I know you’re aware it's not a fun time, but you know what really kills you? It's not the gangs or the guards. It's the boredom.
Time slips away from you, but also seems to pass so slow that it's like trying to carve your name in dry cement.
You try to keep your feet on the ground, but you can't all the time.
You get up in the morning at 6, get counted at six fifteen, eat your oatmeal at six thirty, grab a full eight assembling office furniture for the feds. Two hours of rec time, outside if you’re really well behaved. Eat dinner, green Jello on fridays, red Jello every other day. Bed inspection. Choose between the library or the movie. Go to your bunk, lights out.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I went mad for most of year four, came back around to something close to sanity in year six. I never really fully recovered though. I cant really complain I suppose, I deserved to be in there. A lot of people have been in there a lot longer for a lot less.
Here, I want you to try something
Opens a bag of chips and pours them into a bowl
This is a brand of chips they had in the canteen out there in Indiana. You can't normally get this brand outside of prison. I picked up a few bags on ebay because every now and then I find myself craving it. They’re flavored with whatever flavor dust the day shift at the chip factory didn’t use up, so they’ve got a lot going on. Try a couple.
Crunch
Kinda gross right? Wayyyy too much flavor and it all clashes weird. It's like licking the floor at Dollar general.
But believe me. They hit differently when you’re wearing orange and black.
When everything feels and looks the same day and day out, you start craving sensation. Any sensation. This absolute overload of flavor felt like heaven. The closest I ever saw to a riot was the saturday they opened the canteen without a fresh stock of these.
You go a little crazy in there. Just looking for anything to silence that steady drumbeat of monotony. I got really into the twilight books when they were coming out. I know somebody that spent a long time in solitary who spent their time touching cold metal, waiting for it to get warm, letting go and touching it again when it got cold again. Anything to break up the void.
When I look back at those two years where I was on top of the world, they weren't worth it. They weren't worth my time in Indiana. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did.
Downs a drink and slams down the glass
My dad won't even talk to me now.
He was a nurse, down at the VA clinic on Cleveland Boulevard. It’s closed now, I think they tore it down and built a Costco. Back when I was a kid it was still seen as emasculating for a man to take that job, but he was good at it and it paid enough for him to raise me on his own after mom died. I felt ashamed though.
He was a good honest man, and I spent my childhood ashamed of him. And then threw away everything he ever gave me to pursue life as a bigshot.
I tried to visit him the other day. He lives in a trailer park on the other side of old highway nine, way down in the valley now. I could see him in there, on his chair watching the hockey game.
He could see me. I knocked and we made eye contact, but he never stirred from his chair.
I suppose I’m dead to him,and I don't blame him. I just wish to god I wasn't.
So finish that drink and leave. If I see you around again I’ll break your arms.
Listener swears they don't come around because they want to be criminal
Oh no? You’re not in the market for a life of crime? Why do you come around then? Riddle me that. I know it's not for the drinks, I can't mix a cocktail to save my life, and I know it's not for the company. What are you an undercover cop or something?
My stories? You're pulling my leg! I’m just old and full of shit. Next thing you're gonna say you’ve got some sort of crush on me.
Listener does not deny it.
No
Nooooo
Oh god. You’re kidding.
Hysterical laughter
What in the name of Peter and Jane is wrong with you!?
Look at me. I’ve easily got ten years on you. I'm going grey and getting wrinkles.
I’ve got callouses from the prison shop and dark circles around my eyes that won't go away no matter how much I try to sleep. My hands are cold and my face is sad. Little kids cry when they see me at the grocery store.
You deserve some passionate young woman with stars in her eyes. Mine are just empty and tired. I don't have passion in me anymore.
Hell I don't even do anything anymore. All I want to do at the end of the day is make myself some oatmeal and watch the rerun channel. You can do better.
You can do a lot better.
I really can't talk you out of it?
Well who am I to deny you the right to make terrible choices? You can't say I didn't warn you about me. You damn fool.
I’ll tell you what. This place is dead tonight, what do you say we go dancing?
On one condition. You stop hanging around here. If this works it works and we’ll hang out someplace else. And if it doesnt I dont need you floating around like a sad little puppy.
Deal? Good
They kiss the listener on the cheek.
Go back home and clean up a bit, I’ll go upstairs and do the same. It’s ballroom night at the Falcons lodge. I haven't danced in ages and I want to see if I’ve still got it. We’ll see where that south wind takes us from there.
I’ll see you in an hour. On the dot. If you panic now and stand me up I might straight up break your legs.
God you’re an idiot
-30-

Part 32 on HFY
"I think I found it," I said, knowing that Inanna and Sarisa could hear me. A second later, Sarisa popped into existence next to me. "Huh," she said.
The map she'd shared with the rest of us showed a single row of houses fronting the natural area, but I could clearly see the roof of a building, set far back from the homes amid the trees. A wide driveway with the single white line they used here to differentiate traffic lanes emerged from between two properties with a gate closed over it.
A sign hung from the gate, unreadable with all the bullet holes in it, but the operating hours at the bottom were unmistakable. This wasn't another home, but some sort of public-fronting establishment. "I definitely have no knowledge of this building. I think you've got it."
"Will you get the others?" I asked. Sarisa smiled and vanished again. A few minutes later, Gary and Kathy emerged from around a corner with Sarisa.
"Where's Ana?" Gary asked as they approached.
"She peed herself," I said.
"What?" Gary face scrunched up and I laughed. "You heard me."
"Well, how the hell did that happen?"
I shrugged. "The usual way, I guess. She's been telling me about getting tired and feeling confused on a repeating schedule and having to make an effort to return to her usual health. I suggested she try staying hydrated, because it sounded like dehydration that she was describing. So she started hydrating and..."
"And she forgot to go tinkle," Gary grinned. I winked at him, and then noticed Sarisa giving me a look. I responded with a "what do you expect?" gesture, and she sighed and shook her head. Sarisa never liked it when I told little white lies, even though it turns out she's told a few, herself.
Inanna emerged from the closest home, then. She was still in the same khakis and unbuttoned-most-of-the-way outfit she'd worn in, but she was dry now. "It wasn't pee," she announced.
Gary looked back and forth between us, eyebrows raised. "Okay...."
Kathy suddenly smirked and turned away. Well, damn, that was quick. I had to remember not to underestimate her.
"It doesn't matter," I said, "Look." I pointed to the gate. "That has to be the museum."
"Well, whatta we waitin fer?" Gary asked and walked over to check the padlock on the gate. He gave it a quick look, then took off his pack and dug around for a second, producing a pair of smallish bolt-cutters. He lined them up on the lock's hook and, with a quick jerk, brought the jaws down on it. The padlock fell to the ground with a clatter and Gary opened the gate wide enough to walk in.
We all followed him in through the gate and he pulled it shut and used a rock to wedge it in place. Up the long drive, we found a small parking lot and another shot-up sign. But this one had the words "museum" and "north" still readable in Armenian printed on it, so if we'd had any doubts during the walk up, they were gone.
Inanna simply magicked open the locked front door and we walked in. We split up, wandering the halls and searching the various rooms an exhibits. I moved down a hall with prints of medieval paintings of vikings and little placards describing the circumstances of the original painting as well as the events portrayed. The first three doors I found were bathrooms and a closet. The last entrance had no door in the frame, and it led to a room full of weapons.
A few actual viking-age and earlier weapons sat in glass cases in the middle, with reproductions bolted to the walls. Apparently, the museum was family-friendly, because foam versions of the weapons were stacked in an umbrella stand in one corner.
As I was returning to check another hall, I heard Kathy's voice "I think I got it!"
I followed the sound through a few rooms and found her and the others gathered around a small glass display case on a pedestal in the middle of a room whose walls were bedecked with paintings, both ancient and modern, of Norse Pagan religious subjects. Squeezing between Inanna and Gary, I saw it.
It was just like the last one, except the teeth were arranged slightly differently.
"So can we just, like, take it?" Kathy asked Sarisa. Sarisa shook her head, "Not without interfering with the magic. We have to share secrets again."
We all looked around at each other. This was actually getting more difficult, as we were a pretty tight group. We simply didn't have a lot of secrets. I broke the ice.
"When I was in my junior year, I stole three books from the college library, because they wouldn't let me check them out."
Kathy snickered. "I bet that's the worst thing you've ever done, too."
I turned towards her. "They were three volumes of a history of video games. The nineteen eighties through the two-thousands. I still have them in my closet." Kathy laughed and held out a hand for a fist bump. I gave it to her, unsure of why that would be fist-bump-worthy until she said "I figured they'd be dense academic works on some obscure aspect of history. Or maybe porn."
"The second volume covered erotic games," I admitted, "but there weren't a lot of titillating images, unless a screenshot from Custer's Last Stand is the sort of thing you find sexy."
I felt an easing in the tension of the room which I hadn't recognized until that moment. It had worked. Inanna spoke up next. "I'm keeping the baby," she said.
Everyone looked at her. Sarisa spoke first, "Sister, that is possibly the least-secret secret I've ever heard of. I don't think any of have had any doubt that you would keep the child you made with the man you love."
Inanna turned to me, "Did you know?" I shrugged. "I never really considered that you'd end the pregnancy. It would be very out of character for you."
"And you're okay with that?" she asked me? "Of course," I replied immediately. "Why wouldn't I be?"
She wrapped her arms around me and leaned her head against my chest. I smiled. This was nice, Inanna showing affection without being all grabby.
"I'm going to have to think about it for a minute, then."
Gary took a deep breath. His face clouded for a moment, and then he cleared his throat.
"I killed two civilian boys in Rukha, in Afghanistan back in 2001 to stop them from alerting Taliban in the region. We were moving through some fields, coming down into the valley from the north. We needed to get to a high point that sort of split the valley, to call in some JDAMs on a couple Taliban positions down in the valley. We didn't see the boys at first, they were hiding in some bushes or something. But as we got close, they broke cover and ran. I didn't even hesitate. I knew if they made it into town or to someone with a phone, the locals would fill the streets to gawk and the Taliban would abandon their positions.
"I saw them running, had just enough time to recognize the threat, and then I shot them both in the back. Neither one was armed. Neither one was older than about twelve." His voice was rough and raw. It was obvious he was digging deep for this.
"I still sometimes have nightmares about it," he added, and then he closed his mouth and stared at the ground. I felt the tension ease a bit more.
Kathy put her hand on his shoulder and he reached up to pat it. "I abandoned my best friend throughout middle school, Maryann, because she wasn't popular enough to suit me when we got to high school," she said.
"When we started as freshmen, we both made a bunch of new friends. She had a harder time of it, just because she wasn't as sociable as I was, but she was my friend, so she kinda tagged along as we became the 'in-group'. But some of the other girls didn't like her. Maryann listened to different music than most of us, and liked different actors and dressed different. It was super petty, I know, but at the time, those things seemed important." She laughed ruefully, "Like listening to Shinedown somehow made her a bad person. Anyways, it got worse over our freshman year. When we started sophomore year, I decided to cut her loose. So I told my mom a boy was harassing me, and she changed my number. A couple of the other girls did the same. We gave each other our new numbers, but not Maryann."
Kathy sniffed and I could see moisture in her eyes.
"She just seemed so confused at first. None of us were willing to just tell her that we didn't want to be friends, so we made excuses. I told her my phone was turned off, and said that I had plans every time she wanted to hang out. When she finally figured it out, she didn't even get angry. She just, like, vanished. She stopped coming to school, and stopped eating at the diner where we always used to get burgers after school.
"After a couple of months, I started to get worried about her. So I went to her house and knocked on the door. Her mom answered and told me that Maryann didn't want to talk to me and that I should go. And that was the last I ever heard from her."
Sarisa put her arm around Kathy's shoulder and squeezed her. "It's not too late," she said, then Kathy turned into the hug and they embraced. I heard Kathy take a few shuddering breaths, and then she pulled back. "I know. And I plan to go to her, as soon as this is done. I won't take no for an answer, this time."
The tension eased further. Only the goddesses remained. Inanna had, predictably enough, managed to sneak a hand down my pants while Gary was talking, but her fondling was subdued, more of an idle fidgeting than her usual concerted attempts to arouse me. The thrill of being touched by a goddess remained, however, which is why I was keeping my mouth shut.
Sarisa broke the silence. "I slept with Astoram, once."
"What?" I choked out in unison with Inanna. Inanna jerked her hand free and spun to face Sarisa.
"I thought you said that night with Jerry was your first time."
"It was... Listen, it wasn't actually me who slept with him, but an avatar of mine who lived in my temple in Mohenjo-daro. I was experiencing everything she did, but I wasn't in control of her actions. The truth is, I wasn't even paying her much attention, and she had long since grown into her own being, making choices that sometimes surprised me. Astoram came to her in a manifestation. He pretended to be distraught after Loki had foiled one of his schemes, and he seemed to think the avatar was me in a manifestation. He played at humility, confessed that he was always jealous of how smart I am and just generally seemed remorseful, and possibly not such a bad god, once you got past his public facade.
"The avatar had been quite lonely, and had grown quite human, having lived among them for so long. So she was moved by his words and..."
"And threw him a pity fuck," Inanna said.
Sarissa nodded, "And she threw him a pity fuck, yes. Of course, that was his plan, all along. He impregnated her. He was so livid when he found out she wasn't me that I had to have Krast pin him down until he swore not to hurt the avatar. Even then, I was still so concerned for her safety that I sent her to Scandinavia to bear her son in peace."
"The avatar, that was Aelfrida?" Inanna asked. Sarisa nodded, and Inanna turned to me. "Jerry, now you three are the only people alive who knows the name of Grendel's mother."
"The baby was Grendel?" I asked, surprised. Sarisa nodded again. "Yes, and he was a lovely creature for a very long time, until that drunkard, Hrothgar built his little party shack and drove the poor thing insane with all the noise." She shook her head sadly.
The tension eased more. It was barely there. All eyes were on Inanna now. She gave us all an askance look, as if she didn't like being the center of attention.
Yeah, right.
After a moment's silence, she turned back to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. She leaned her head against my chest again and spoke, not looking at anyone.
"I've thought a lot about what we're doing and what it might entail, from a practical perspective. I've communed with Ixy on it, as well, as he's the oldest of all of us. As best I can guess, the actual method which we're trying to learn is not to kill Astoram, or even to put him back to sleep. It's to cut off his manifestation from his divinity. It would open his domain for grabs by the rest of us. I'm sure Ixy plans to seize as much of it as he can, the moment we succeed.
"I can't think of any other method of defeating him that's even remotely possible. Sarisa, you know we've discussed this." Sarisa nodded. I knew, too. I'd heard them talking about it a few times, and had a general idea of their logic. It was complex and sometimes irrational, but if you squinted just right, it sort of made sense.
The gods' divinity wasn't who they were, but a natural product of living beings interacting with the universe and each other, that occasionally grew into something so coherent and powerful that it took on a life of its own. As best I understood, Ixy was the first god. He came into being when human ancestors began really differentiating themselves from the other animals with their cleverness, a sort of reflexive kickback against said cleverness. Every time an animal did anything, a trickle of energy was added to Ixy's domain, but every time an especially smart animal followed its instincts, he got a huge jolt of power.
Eventually, all that energy coalesced into the nightmarish entity that Ixy can be if you don't know him. Because those ancestors were smart and they contributed so much, Ixy developed a literal mind of his own. A simple mind, about as intelligent as your typical chimpanzee, but with the social bonds of a dog.
As time passed and humanity evolved into its modern state, that growing intelligence that it brought flowed towards Ixy. But Ixy didn't want it. Ixy liked being Ixy. So he sequestered these little disembodied minds off from the rest of himself. And things continued like that for a very long time.
But humanity was only just beginning to get clever. As tribes and clans took hold, complex social behaviors developed, and those behaviors differentiated themselves from the primal energy that defined Ixy. One by one, these energies, these divinities, grew dense enough to power a god on their own. The minds that Ixy had sequestered were not comatose or unaware, and they saw this happening. Eventually, one of them escaped and tied itself to a divinity. They became the first generation of the gods. Hunting, bloodlust, simple lust, hunger, loneliness. Base concepts that all of humanity knew.
This first generation eventually experienced the same fate as Ixy, only without the entirety of the animal kingdom feeding them a steady drip of power, they grew weak as the energies split apart. To offset this, they emanated; breaking off parts of their own minds to take command over the diverging and clumping divinities that had once been entirely theirs. As these emanations seized their own divinities, they became the second generation of gods. Sarisa and Inanna were both second generation gods. The second generation was supposed to serve the first, but after some time, they rebelled.
The first generation was gone; slain somehow in a great war that had been wiped from the minds of all survivors, even the gods themselves. Only Astoram remained of their number. Sarisa and Inanna had discussed how that might have happened, even before Astoram's awakening, and the consensus they had established was that one or more of their 'sibling' gods had learned how to separate a god from their divinity.
Once that was done, then there would be little left but the mind, unless said god had been manifesting. In that case, they would survive not as a disembodied mind, but in whatever form they had taken. And that was what we planned to do to Astoram. What it wasn't, however, was a secret. I looked down at Inanna, who glanced up and caught my eye. When she spoke, I knew she was speaking to me.
"If we succeed. If we find a way to strip Astoram from his divinity, then after we've defeated him, I want to be stripped from my own. I want to live whatever remaining life I have in this body with you, Jerry."
Holy fucking shit.
----
As a reminder, this whole story is available at JerryandtheGoddesses.

All Chapters First Chapter of Alien-Nation Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Alien-Nation Discord Buy A Coffee for the Author
Chapter summary: Vaughn liberates a bunch of people. Elias can't sleep and makes some decisions and receives a weird offer.
Chapter Art- Vaughn's Mask, a World War One Tanker Splatter Mask

Alien-Nation Chapter 169: Jailbreak

A Leslie's Pool Supplies retail outlet made for a strange rally point for any group of people, even moreso now that the whole strip mall along what had been Concord Pike had long since closed. The stainless letters spelled the forgotten name of the shopping center, still proudly adorned the top of the diagram of blank signs ensured at least the brick obelisk was a conveniently obvious marker for the men to find and make preparations for assaulting the jail.
'Morningstar' squadron had swelled their cell's numbers to well over twenty by absorbing the miscellaneous fragments of other cells, whose skills were more generalized. The name carried over to the newly formed Strike Force by virtue of being both the largest and the lynchpin of the operation's success.
This was the largest force of the three organized groups they'd split into, each aiming to try and hit the larger jails along Route 202, the other two branches making a target list of their own. Vendetta had given them an extra half hour to at least get themselves close to in-position, but with only one shortwave had no way of knowing if they would coordinate their strike. He was a known element to everyone even if only by name. At least Elias's words stayed true; All seemed very familiar and well-practiced with their carried weaponry. More importantly, none contested his assigned leadership or questioned his orders.
Vaughn cradled the RPG he'd been given, eyeing the well-lit building just over the carefully landscaped hill. The last had been over a half hour ago. The box-mart across the old highway was the temporary headquarters of the repositioned Troop One, after the suburbs near Camp Death had been cleared, likely soon to be repositioned again. But the size of the old box-mart seemed to indicate several things, that it was largely indefensible, could contain a fair few prisoners, and by its proximity to Camp Death, could be useful to strike regardless.
The flow of traffic was unusually heavy for being well before the crack of dawn. Perhaps people were trying their luck getting up old 202 to try and reach the border that way, after having no luck along other closed border checkpoints. There was a feeling of self-consciousness in carrying heavy weapons out in the open along a suburban highway most had driven along during peacetime, the juxtaposition of old familiar environment and newly familiar activity showing just how much their lives had changed. Moreso as cars rolled along it like it was a Friday night of olde, the two lives- old and new, bumping shoulders for a moment.
"You ready?" He asked, snapping them back to the present.
Mutters of assent was good enough. Haltingly, everyone in the mishmashed strike team moved toward the precinct's bright lights, taking advantage of the long shadows and occasional noise of the passing cars.
It was an unassuming building, the repurposed garrison made out of some retail outlet built back in the turbulent seventies, all brick and little else but tiny glass doors, with not even windows for the occupants to know the impending violence had been approaching. What era will this be known as? Early Imperial? Resistance? Revolutionary? Wondered the teen, as he leveled it at the lobby. Good? Bad? Hell, I'm just the man with the gun.
Everyone levelled their weapons as once, and Vaughn held a hand high. "We're here to liberate the prison, not blow it sky high," he chuckled. It was hardly armored or reinforced- or at least, so it seemed to him. And if it was, then the Data Center had shown the virtue of striking the same spot with concentrated fire beat showering it with dispersed impacts.
At least the glass door looked normal enough. "Bump and grind, forward. Forward!" He hissed. "Aim at that- there- the front door." Easy enough for the homemade launcher to hit, and these were arguably of the lowest utility if things went sideways. Elias had taught him asset management well- it was a waste to throw your best equipment at a stationary target. While the design was tried-and-tested, Vaughn still took a few steps away.
The improvised launcher let out a metallic clunk, and with a surprisingly subdued noise and recoil the projectile was sent tumbling freely, end over end, the cap blown clean off the improvised launcher. A second later, the giant projectile more than made up for it as the round smashed through the glass door, taking the automatic door slightly off the rails and bowing slightly inward- before then blowing both them and a hail of glass fragments outward as the detonation went off inside the main lobby.
Someone in a security forces uniform staggered out.
"Infantrymen, Fire!" Vaughn roared to the infantrymen, most of Morningstar dutifully restraining themselves as a hail of bullets sprayed into the storefront and even stitched up the exterior brickwork. Clearly, some insurgents were better trained than others judging by the tracer rounds and slowly tapering off rounds.
"Advance and reload! Morningstar, spread out and cover!"
The smoke and dust was subdued, at least for now, and left them with a surprisingly clear view into the front entrance. Red streaks were painted up on the wall, black and grey of smoke-dusted debris mixed in like a spin-art collage.
The lobby's contents were an absolute shambles- everything set on a ledge had been knocked about, including the ledges and desks themselves. The security forces inside responded by charging out the main doors to follow just a second later.
A hail of gunfire met them, most of the armored troopers flinching reflexively, their armor plates overlapping and protecting their wearer. A few reflexively tried returning fire despite the harsh stings of rounds tugging on the mix of fabric, bulletproof weave, and shattering off the neosteel plate they wore. The gunfire never let up on those unfortunate few who had charged out from their cover, the complete lack of coordination, dissimilar reloading times from infantry with unequal amounts of time spent with their weapons. Effective equipment and enthusiasm was undercut by poor training, surprise, and total lack of a plan to counter being outnumbered. Morningstar, on the other hand, had the numbers, the angle, and the element of surprise.
One by one the Security Forces lay flat. Either they were dead, had the fight knocked out of them, or were trying to present as minimal target as they could while they lined up their own rifles to return fire. It was hard to say for certain what the intent was, but the outcome was little different. Round after round continued pouring into them from dozens of unevenly sized magazines, an RPG or two sending the bodies of any who tried opening fire tumbling, their limbs likely held on by the durable material underneath. When they landed, their bodies folded like misshapen laundry, pressed into unnatural shapes with the wearer still inside.
The whole front engagement was over in less than a minute. A pale, non-gauntleted hand waved frantically from behind a shattered brick front, red streaking down the fingers.
"Hold!" Vaughn shouted. "Identify!" The hand continued waving, and Vaughn shoved an unwitting volunteer forward to pull the man out from behind, to reveal a man in a stained tee shirt with a dazed expression and blood dripping from a series of scratches on his cheeks, cut in like a cat's claws had raked over them.
"Civilian!" Vaughn bellowed over his ringing ears. "Any others inside?"
The man shook his head and mouthed 'no,' his voice seemingly too hoarse- perhaps from having spent an untold amount of time screaming.
The man was wrong- there were, or at least 'had been' more security forces inside. A sudden blast and the tinkering of shrapnel caused Vaughn to duck, then charge forward, his improvised explosive launcher discarded, swinging his shotgun around from his back to rest in his hands. A Technical had tried to leave via a service bay exit, apparently not even managing to round the corner before an RPG wielded by a Morningstar veteran had upended the uparmored pickup as it pulled out.
A survivor crawled from the wreckage, and Vaughn sprinted forward, pressing the barrel against the shivering man's temple as he raised his empty hands. The wet splatter kicked high, and Vendetta checked for any other survivors, the smoking tip of his shotgun wafting grey in the fluorescent tubes of the old retail outlet.
The technicals were indeed tough, he noted, but the round seemed to have flown into a wheel well, bypassing the plating. No one else inside seemed to be moving- yet still, he made certain. There'd be no theatrics of announcing himself to an enemy who played dead by standing in the open and giving orders, letting them try and exact some measure of revenge, or gasping out some warning to the shil'vati. No, a strike was to be calculated, and that calculation was to be total.
Two minutes later and a clear picture of the aftermath had emerged. Over five hundred prisoners rescued from the cells, cramped together like sardines, hastily erected concrete laid in a grid backstopping a prefab prison. PVC pipes ran from room to room for toilets no less roughshod in their construction, set straight into the dirty linoleum. Quite a few of the prisoners were deafened somewhat. The skeleton crew of Security Forces personnel hadn't stood a chance- supposedly, most were out, working from some kind of list, or perhaps had finished their shift after a long day of throwing people into prison.
Vaughn gestured with the shotgun. "There's your exit, people. If you're still undecided about the Shil'vati, then this was your wake-up call. If you're still undecided about us, then I'm not sure what to tell you. We just risked our lives to save yours. You want to pay it back? You can either pay it forward by helping us with the next prison, or you can help the Emperor of Mankind. Blankets, food, water, soldiers, guns, ammo, whatever you've got that you think might help. He hasn't said it, but I reckon you all owe him, if you've got a decent bone in your body, you'll at least bring him something, offer to try and help. If you want, you can listen in on the radio for instructions, and if you haven't got a shortwave, I'll separate off a few from our strike squad who can fill you in and get you there, if you feel like chipping in on the war effort."
Vaughn lowered the shotgun, taking a shell off his bandoleer and loading it in to replace the one he'd fired.
"That went well," Parker remarked. "And not a bad speech. Short, to the point, and all that. Honestly, I wish I'd brought a whole crew. One for the close-up on that impact. But, uh, that execution..."
"Completely necessary," Vaughn snapped, irritatedly. "That guy was fatally wounded. Putting him out of his misery was an act of mercy. And you'll remember to narrate that, if you got that on film."
"Of course." Parker didn't deny where he'd been aiming the camera- saving Vaughn at least the headache of reviewing the footage, and then having to kill Parker, if it turned out he'd been lying.
"I'm starting to think of these jail cells as something more like a pinata full of prizes. Namely, insurgents and good PR," he muttered. Truth be told, he'd wanted more of a fight. Vaughn pulled the radio from his pocket, and sent out the broadcast. "Done here. 202 North has been cleared. About four fifty good to go in some sense of the word, though where's anyone's guess. Tried sending them your way, don't know if they'll take it. Another fifty will need medical treatment. No casualties on our end. Surprise was total. We've got pictures. No enemies taken prisoner."
Vendetta stared around the lobby, an idea slowly dawning on him.
"Hey! Hey hey hey! Snag armor off any of the ones that you can. Grab any goods that are stocked up, and arm up anyone who says they're headed to Camp Death with the weapons the guys had here. Come on, we can't stay too long here. You-" he pointed at a man who had held down the trigger on his rifle, spraying the building at full auto. "-You're fucking useless at fighting. Gather up the ones who are able and willing to fight, get them packed into a civilian-style police cruiser, and drive them on over to Camp Death. Everyone, help him load up. Get everything you can out of the Evidence lockers into the trunks- they can fit a lot, trust me, I'd know. Camp Death's going to need goodies. Come on, move, people, move!"
Morningstar Squadron had re-mustered on Vendetta.
"Alright, now what?" They almost seemed eager for more.
A smile crept across Vendetta's face, invisible to all as he pointed at the row of vehicle keys.
"I think it's time we hit 141 and a couple more," he muttered, pulling it off the hook. "Now...wheelman, shotgun, or turret?"

"Accidentally Cut Content"

[Author's Note: Hey Everyone. I made a really dumb mistake and included part of the next chapter in the previous one's end in my rush to get it out the door. So the first couple paragraphs will be a repeat, but this IS a new chapter. I even updated those first four or five paragraphs slightly.]
I couldn't sleep well on the cot that night. Though I noticed hours ticked by, every moment seemed to be spent tossing and turning. I even tried resting with the mask off, held in my hands, but the risk to my identity being discovered if anyone barged in caused me enough stress to worsen the situation. Eventually, I gave up, kicked the covers off and donned the mask again, making my rounds around the camp, trying to calm myself down by taking a midnight stroll. Instead, I felt eyes countless following me, and I had to force myself to stand tall for them. For the thousandth time, I thought of this as my Valley Forge.
As I patrolled, I could hear whispered prayers, muttered plans of action, and mercifully, snores. At least some were getting some sleep. I could see orange lights reflecting off the clouds from where I knew Wilmington lay. It seemed Vaughn was keeping busy, if indeed it was his handiwork.
A few shipment inspections and a routine update from a sentry later, and I felt caught up to speed. I noticed Radio from the corner of my eye, seemingly also unable to sleep.
I almost jumped a foot in the air when I felt the tap on my shoulder, only to find G-Man's mask staring into mine. How strange that such a haunting visage was a comfort to me.
"Hey. Can't sleep?" He sounded surprisingly serene. Or maybe it was just tired resignation. His hands seemed stuck in a familiar claw-like shape after holding the soldering iron for so long, and my fingers ached in sympathy. My mask's filters took much of the scent of smoke I could smell from the distant fires, but I was sure that if I wasn't wearing my mask that G-Man would smell faintly of molten silver solder. I'd wondered how we'd repaired and updated so many railguns so quickly. Now I knew what he'd put himself through.
"I can't," I confessed. "G-Man, I'm sorry what happened with your father. Hell of a birthday." I hadn't even had a chance to give him the present I'd bought him- a couple new filters, and vintage craftsman toolkit, 'from before they sold out,' as Verns had phrased it. The memory of his voice already felt distant, somehow.
"Wasn't your fault. Even if Town Hall wasn't your big idea to get them to retaliate, you know? Then they'd still have done something. But, uh, thanks for saying that. And thanks for trying to get dad out. I'll remember that." George said quietly, then the conversation ended when he turned away and went to the edge of the embankment. Just like that.
I could never quite get a read on him, but I wanted to respect his distance. Whatever he was feeling, he seemed to want to feel it alone, and to keep his own counsel on the matter.
I continued course toward Radio.
"Any word from Miskatonic?" I asked hopefully.
Radio offered a noncommittal shrug, then dropped it in a hurry, raising one hand to massage his chest. "They say 'this is your war,' but did ship us a small container."
"I saw."
I hadn't exactly expected them to line up alongside us in the trenches in their white coats, but I'd hoped they'd have had some kind of wonder drug or noxious gas we might deploy. Something toxic to the Shil'vati but not us. The best they'd given us so far were experimental bullets and toxic-tipped arrows and knives, the former of which supposedly could potentially the armor, if fired with enough force and impacted with a good angle. If true, then I supposed they might be moderately useful in an ambush, and they had helpfully included a pair of compound bows. I had conducted a pretty decent survey of the defense, but I hadn't thought to ask if any were experienced archers. I also couldn't imagine taking someone off a railgun, large caliber rifle, or even an old cannon to hand them a bow and arrow without feeling like I was somehow offering them an insult without equipping it myself, and there was better I could think to do with the remaining minutes before the Shil'vati would inevitably come looking than to practice.
They'd fallen out of favor for a reason, and it wasn't that the earliest guns outperformed bows.
They had also supplied a small cache of rifles that were more likely to pulverize than penetrate unless the armor had been compromised already. These were still appreciated, but hardly the game changer I wanted in return for all we'd sent them.
Then Radio leaned in, voice kept conspiratorially low. "They did, however, mention an exfiltration for you."
Sam had been right, I wouldn't get back anything close to the value of what I'd sent out. At least, not unless I was willing to abandon everything and everyone, to cut and run for my life. Such a decision would be the inglorious end of the revolution, spelling doom for everyone in it, and all of humanity's culture. I'd forever be remembered as a coward, if I was so lucky to be remembered at all.
"Well, I'm not going."
"Okay, but here's a real head-scratcher. Did you show them where Camp Death is? I've been careful not to broadcast our coordinates, and my little helpers haven't been talking with Miskatonic. And the person on the shortwave mentioned that the border would free up tomorrow morning, then mentioned the interstate right up against the back of our base as a meeting point. They said Last Exit Before Pennsylvania. That's right there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "And I didn't mention broadcasting without a cat's paw or relay. I mean there's a chance they triangulated, but throwing together a plan that fast? Nah, man, they knew."
I searched my memory. "I'm certain that I didn't mention it to them...did Hex? She did that internship. No, wait, she got picked up and dropped off at Warehouse Base. Unless she mentioned something on the drive past? She said they were somewhere North." Now that Radio had mentioned it, I was left with a bit of a puzzle. How did they know? How much did they know about us?
"They had to have known somehow. And if they didn't know before and just figured our location out, then I bet you it's not long before the Shil'vati figure it out themselves and come sniffing," Radio resignedly threw a hand up. "Should we update the signal? Start directing people straight here?"
We had numbers, yes, but we could still do to take more in, especially if the fighting dragged on or casualties mounted higher than I projected. "How long until they're sure we're here?"
Radio yawned under his mask, the animated glass-plated mask he wore misinterpreting it with an ASCII shocked ":O" face. "We've been broadcasting all night, so, who knows?"
"Well, if it was just a signal they picked up on any random given day, how long would it typically take for the Shil'vati to muster a response?"
"Depends on the day." At my silent stare, he objected further. "They sometimes respond pretty fast to that sort of thing, but these aren't normal times, E. They used to come to check out wherever I broadcast from within an hour or two or two, but remember, they've kind of got their hands full right now thanks to Vendetta's jailbreaks. Plus, there's so many more signals." He checked the screen of his shortwave and chuckled, then lightly massaged his chest again. "I'm sure we've already gone way past."
"Alright. If we see anyone snooping around us, add our location to the broadcast. That way, anyone in the resistance or is sympathetic but isn't sure where Camp Death is can find their way here. In the meantime, though, I still think we're best not leaking it. At least with the sentries having set in the final claymores and outer defenses, we should be well-situated to ward off anything they throw at us."
"Maybe. Maybe not," George said from behind me, and I froze.
"Why not?"
He'd helped build this place. He'd know any weaknesses as well as his father.
"They might have cloaking tech, or some other means of infiltration," his voice was a dry rasp.
I shuddered thinking about it. "That's a good point," I muttered. "Assassination and recovery might be up their alley...except, I think they're terrified of what losing me might mean for their hostages."
"I'll be honest. I don't think she cares at this point," G-Man countered. I couldn't fault his gloomy disposition. I could just hope that he didn't want something bad to happen to us, to balance out that something bad had happened to him, from some weird sense of fairness.
"Yeah?"
"Think about it for a second. What happens if you die? Then what does that let her do if that happens?"
It was with a startle I realized he had a good point. Azraea had committed to a shocking all-in, something that would shake the political landscape and memories of countless denizens of the state. Months of carefully planned schemes involving carefully planned defensive patrols meant to reinforce one another, frustrate, and hinder our operations had culminated in us adapting, learning. We thought we had her beaten, especially when we destroyed her monitoring, data collection, and reporting asset in Something Else Square. Then she'd pulled something like this out of a hat, catching us totally flat-footed, rounding up who-knew how many of us before we could muster. What other assumptions had I made that were incorrect? Would she hold fire, if she knew where I was if it meant sparing the hostages? Or were they now just an 'acceptable, if regrettable' loss? When your opponent becomes unpredictable, issues arise, especially when you're counting on them to do certain things.
If it was, then I'd just done her work for her, and all of us would be dead the moment she figured out where we were, and at least the end would come faster than I knew it had arrived.
I realized I was staring up into the orange-lit cloudy night sky. I could voice none of this, not without undermining morale and potentially sparking a panic.
"If she was going to start bombarding the state, she'd have started already by now," I chuckled. "The borders are sealed, right? Why wait? Why bother trying to build some sense of dread? She's not a vampire who feeds on fear. I choose to not be afraid of what she may do. I instead intend to plan around it, to the extent that we can. Besides, if I die, what would the twins do to the hostages?"
George made a disappointed growl, his sore hands turning from awkward claws into shaking fists. "That may be the point. If the Twins do anything to the hostages in retaliation for your death, then maybe as long as she didn't pull the trigger, she thinks she'll be absolved of whatever damage their deaths mean to them."
I wasn't sure she thought that way. Heck, after months, the woman was still an absolute enigma to me. Governess Bal'shir, I understood- the flurry of speeches and photo-ops and handshakes at civic meetings with 'literally-who's-that' of 'what-community' had been carte blanche for us to grow. Ministriva was a lying snake, and once we pieced that together, I ripped her apart. But Azraea? What drove the Fleet Admiral to come down here? Duty. There wasn't any sort of hard policy she followed that I could tell, not that I knew Shil'vati military doctrine well, being an outsider such as I was. Perhaps it was the greater liberty afforded her of being both Governess and General that made it seem like her plans shifted and changed in ways that made it hard for me to keep up. Or maybe she was just at such a rank and in such a position of power to where she could make her judgment calls. If so, that begged the question: What was 'the line' for her? I had a feeling I'd somehow crossed it already. Probably Radio's tape of me fucking the Empress, if I was to be honest. Most unfair to be judged for something that hadn't been my decision, though I doubted an apology from either of us would amount to much.
I looked over to my Lieutenants. They'd helped carry me this far. I'd be foolish to ignore them now. What could I do to at least mitigate the risk that he was right, and there was someone looking to kill me, right here and now?
"Alright, fine, you've convinced me. Instruct the sentries to get the next dozen people who we intake to help patrol the inner perimeter, and to keep a watch for...well, I mean, a stealthy seven foot tall purple alien with giant tits?"
"Something invisible," George supplied.
"Alright, for anything shifting in the tall grasses that they can't immediately see- I can't really ask them to keep an eye out for something they can't see, can I?" I was suddenly too tired to think properly.
"I'll explain it," G-Man offered.
"And I'll get the sentries ready to take over the radio, explaining how it works, then I'll try heading to bed, too," Radio offered, and I realized that a yawn sounded very strange through a voice modulator- his ASCII helmet seemed to fritz out again for a second.
"I should change my sleeping quarters, too," I muttered. "They'll almost certainly check the command cabin for me, if they manage to enter. I'll pick a tunnel- uh...somewhere."
"Might be smart. Could be they'll try and take out the explosives shed, too. Make it look like an accident on our part, get rid of any hostages, and then get a free pass to exact vengeance on the state. Got anywhere in mind?"
I thought to myself. Where might be a good resting area? There were many tunnels that led to bunkers, firing outposts, and even to stowage areas. Any one of them might do in theory, but I knew of one that overlooked one of the two streams that ran along the side of Camp Death. I didn't want to situate myself either too low to where I was on the very front of the lines- why make an assassin's job even easier by putting myself on the perimeter, after all? But the creek should make a pleasant bit of white noise- and also get me away from the center shed. "Probably facing North, along Perkins run. G-Man, you look absolutely dead on your feet. Get some rest if you can, you've certainly done enough and gone through enough for today."
"There's...still things to do."
"There always will be. If the others are finished doing their repairs, lock the shed," I muttered. "I know the hostages are in there, so post a sentry or two there, too, to watch over the entrance. You're right that she may try some kind of underhanded tactic." It wouldn't do much if they decided to set charges against the side or something, and the subsequent explosion would be, in a word, 'cataclysmic'. "This was supposed to be a relaxing walk to help me rest..." I scratched at my chin under the mask, feeling the beginnings of the few scratchy hairs that had grown since I'd last shaved, and feeling the cool fresh air without the filter as the wind kicked up.
"Sorry," G-Man offered sheepishly. "I'll go tell 'em."
While he ambled off, I followed Radio back to his pile of equipment.
"Before we split then, one last thing."
"Yeah?" Radio asked.
"Have we recovered Verns?" I asked Radio. "Any word?"
"No, not that I've heard," Radio confessed. "Vendetta's been mostly quiet, I think to hide his heading from anyone who might be listening, but I know that he's struck at least three jails and counting. Some of the ones he's freed are trickling up to us here on foot, and it seems he and Morningstar are acting like a human wrecking ball. The troops are calling it Operation Smash-and-Grab."
"Smash-and-grab," I laughed, thinking of the pun. "I like it. Do we have a more recent headcount?"
"Sam said we've got enough to last about three days of continuous, round-the-clock fighting with the hundreds of people we have here. If we get a resupply run- well, I suppose it would depend upon how big a hole gets blasted in the encirclement. Or, well, something to that effect. Look, man, I'm 'Radio', not 'Telephone,' and I don't have the head for this logistics shit that you two do. You want to talk to Sam, you get the man on the radio yourself, or ask one of the Sentries I'm sticking here to manage the comms. Point being, you try and get hold of him. I'm done for the night."
I could have said something witty back, but it felt counterproductive, and would only delay the sleep I was now well overdue for.
"I've got an idea for an update. The ones Vendetta's letting loose? They can gather supplies and wait for the signal to reinforce, or to agitate, or can organize people into a more focused group, one that can punch through whatever blockade they try and form up. It'll also force the Shil'vati to not concentrate forces on our back door-" I pointed back at the interstate. "Even if they clear them out, the opportunity for us to encircle and destroy and then break out is too high for them to really try to do a mass deployment along our back." Sam was, I knew, something of a career criminal. Able to rub elbows with the worst elements of humanity. He was a facilitator, I knew, not really a leader. "Can you tell him-"
Radio was already fiddling with the dial. "Already on it," he muttered. "Lotta profit in looting, should be easy for him to steer people with that, or something. Get some sleep, E."
I went up to a sentry, requisitioned a sleeping bag someone had helpfully brought, went into a trench and told him where I'd be if I was needed. I waved to Radio, and crawled into the gunnery tunnel, almost stepping on another four people already laying in it. I loosened my laces, clutched my sheathed knife, and fell into a fitful sleep.
All Chapters First Chapter of Alien-Nation Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Alien-Nation Discord Buy A Coffee for the Author

Greater Melbourne has a bunch of LGA's, from biggest to smallest:

• City of Yarra
• City of Port Phillip
• City of Stonnington
• City of Maribynong
• City of Melbourne
• City of Bayside
• City of Glen Eira
• City of Moonee Valley
• City of Merri-bek (formerly Moreland)
• City of Darebin
• City of Boroondara
• City of Maroondah
• City of Banyule
• City of Hobsons Bay
• City of Whitehorse
• City of Monash
• City of Kingston
• City of Manningham
• City of Knox
• City of Brimbak
• City of Greater Dandenong
• City of Lesser Dandenong
• City of Casey
• Shire of Nillumbik
• Cite of Whittlesea
• City of Hume
• City of Melton
• City of Wyndham
• Shire or Mornington Penninsula
• Shire of Cardinina
• Shire of Yarra Ranges

What is something you like about one of them?
Maybe you like the bin designs in Yarra? Maybe you like the public libraries of Darebin? Frankston's food safety compliance system? the architecture in Wyndham? the terrible suburb names of Knox?
Pick a council. Pick a thing you like. Could be something the council is actually responsible, could be something that is just a fluke of where boundaries were drawn.

Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse
÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷
First Previous [Next]()
÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷

POV: Milko

I didn't know how Mateo did it. Forgave so easily. I was not that good; not that benevolent.
The way I saw it, the galaxy was a cruel thing tenanted mostly by uncaring inhabitants who willfully caused pain and suffering to other beings, or at least felt no concern for the hurt they dealt or tolerated.
Whenever I thought about my father - the begetter of children he never saw as people but merely expendable commodities - I started to seethe and sulfuric, slender ringlets of smoke drifted menacingly from my nostrils.
It's not like I didn't try to be better, I really did. Those hours trying to get help from him to my mother bleeding to death in front of me spawned a darker me. The hours sitting in my mother's and siblings' blood with the quiet of their deaths screaming in my mind, those hours depleted something vital in me.
I am able to forgive if not forget. I forgave the commander when he intentionally hurt me with the gravity change. I forgave the IASO for her antics in our initial interview. But my sire? I didn't think so. Other Coltavalke? I didn't feel like being a member of that particular gang.
So how is Mateo ok with Ouer, the Eoan teenager?!? Her entire species was guilty of the most horrible acts against sentients and sapients. I understood not blaming the kid but how did he stay in the same room without being overwhelmed with disgust and fury?
Well, Mateo was befriending the monster lookalike and I was there to support him.
We were behind the door of the youth habitation unit belonging to Saša, Ouer's guardian for the moment. An almost breathtakingly handsome, young Deblom male opened the door.
Deblom male: Yes? Who're you here for?
Milko (after shaking his head slightly to clear her thoughts): I'm Milko, a Coltavalke, and this is Mateo, a human. We're here for Ouer.
Deblom male: Who?
Mateo: It's ok, we're on the list of approved visitors.
Deblom: Great for you.
His handsomeness was waning in my eyes. There's no beauty in the galaxy to make up for these manners. Still, I tried again, politely. I tried to keep smoke from escaping but keeping it in was making my eyes water.
Milko: This is Saša's habitation unit, isn't it?
Deblom: Maybe.
Mateo: Is Saša here?
Deblom: ^Don'tknow.
Or care, it seemed. He was leaning to the doorframe at an increasingly alarming angle. His eyes were half closed in a way he probably thought was sexy but came across as exhausted and dull. Suddenly I saw Ouer in the room behind the obtuse Deblom.
Ouer: Are you here to see me?
At the sudden sound of the low gurgling Eoan nightmare fuel of a voice, the Deblum guy exceeded his maximum lean angle and unceremoniously plonked on the floor. It was very satisfying to see him blinking several times like a confused Huuq.
I held Mateo's hand and we curtly stepped over him to our new friend.
Milko: Good...
Mateo: ...morning,...
Milko: ...Ouer!
Ouer: You came! You actually came! That guy kept telling me you didn't mean it as a promise. He said nobody would think twice betraying the likes of me!
Saša (stepping into the room from some smaller room in the back): Who said that?
It took him about half a human second to find the Deblom guy on the floor wearing an obnoxious smirk. He was lying in a weird pose on the floor, one leg bend up, opening his crotch area in a way that would be obscene if it weren't so utterly ridiculous. Saša sighed.
Mateo: Saša, we came to take Ouer to play in the private shore area. One of our friends is already there. If Ouer wants to come, of course.
Saša: This is just having some good-natured fun together, kids only?
Milko: "Young people", please, not "kids"! Sir.
Saša: Of course. It was just a slip of the tongue.
Mateo: Then yes, sir, just us. If we happen to start discussing some legal stuff, we'll inform everyone. It's not the idea, though.
Saša: Ouer, do you wish to go?
Ouer: Oh, yes, yes, please!
Saša: Use the lift at the end of the corridor. Tierpe, c'mon, let's go discuss this in my office. Up, up, up: other people need to use that threshold. It's not there purely as a background for your pin-up poses!
Mateo: We have a friend, Caleo. Please, be very careful with him. He very nearly died a few days ago. He is aquatic, small, and cute.
Milko: He used to be enslaved, his entire life until now. And his slavers directly caused his condition. He had never seen a bath, not to mention a beach. He wasn't taught anything. He didn't even have a name until Mateo gave him one.
Mateo: We were there when he woke up, and feel very protective towards him. He doesn't know how the real world works.
Milko: He has known no kindness.
Mateo: He has never had anything, not even the basics.
Milko: They didn't give the enslaved children even a glass or a mug to drink from. A bowl on the floor if they were really lucky, mostly just some used water was splashed on the floor for them to lick.
Mateo: I took a bath with him on our spaceship. He - an aquatic child - had never before been immersed in water!
Milko: Sorry to rant on you. It's not like you did anything to him.
Mateo: The injustice of it, the sheer agony these kids endured...
Milko: ...it just gets us very riled up.
Mateo: Partly because of our own trauma and enslavement. Which was not that bad.
Ouer: Not as bad?! You almost died. Your sister did die. You were tortured and eaten for months until you rescued yourself!
Milko: Not to mention the slave work we were forced to do at the space station, Mateo.
Ouer: Aren't you still having physical problems you are here to fix? And the degree of enslavement and torture is not some competition! What one person might not even remember might be extremely traumatic to another. And it doesn't mean they're weaker or anything.
Mateo: Wow, Ouer! That was well put! Race you to the elevator!
Milko: No fair! My legs are short!
Ouer (whisking by Milko): Well I don't have legs at all, just one muscular foot!
Really wouldn't have thought it possible but despite Mateo's head start the legless mollusk won the race. Soon we were at the private shore. It was - of course - an artificial beach with one-third sand and two-thirds water. The HOTCHI-station had several of these as well as other environments to help with rehabilitation after surgeries or hospital stays.
It was perfect for our purposes. Ouer wasn't guilty in any way of the previous attack on the HOTCHI station. But his physical form would trigger horrendous memories in several patients and many of the staff here. We decided public areas were to be avoided, for now.

POV: Ouer

I couldn't believe it. All my life I had been hiding, knowing exposure to others would only bring suffering and death. Our species was hated for good reason and our form was disgusting.
And here I was, on the very station our hated warriors had desecrated in acts more vile than anywhere else. But I was allowed to move around and meet people! And now someone - two someones - wanted to do something incredibly nice to me!
Their friend had never been immersed in water in his life. Mateo and Milko seemed to find this especially condemning since the child was of an aquatic species. Like me.
I didn't know if I should tell them that I hadn't even ever seen enough water to submerge in. I wondered if it would make me look too pitiful.
"Shore." I knew what the word meant. I had seen a low-resolution picture of one. I almost hyperventilated thinking I'd get to see one in real life. It was artificial, I knew that. But most things in space are.
We stepped in the omnidirectional hover-lift. The lift had minimal friction as it hovered magnetically in the shaft. The ride was smooth, as were the transitions from vertical to horizontal.
But the best part was the interior of the lift. Even though the travel only took some minutes there was ample room and an abundance of seating options. This was a hospital and the convalescents were given every opportunity to do things and not just forlornly lie on a bed.
One side was for mammals with seats that conformed to different kinds of people. On the opposing side were perches and nests for avians. That section also had branches and caverns for insectoids.
And the back wall, directly where you looked when you entered, was the section for aquatic and amphibious species. With a push of a button, you could get either freshwater or saline water in different concentrations.
You could get totally underwater, sit in a seat partially underwater, or get water osmotically just by holding onto a bar with a partially permeable membrane. I used the last method. These humans, they think of everything. You could even add small molecules of nutrients of your choice to the solution. It was so refreshing after so long in the relatively dry spaces the Terrans preferred.
In truth, when the elevator ride was over I kinda wishes it had lasted longer. But the siren song of a shore was too enticing to ignore.
The elevator chauffeured us right outside our private shore. The door faded out to let us pass into a corridor. A small cephalopod child was impatiently waiting for us.
They were mostly diaphanous with a blue tint, possibly for sun protection. Some parts of them were darker blue, presumably for more protection against harmful UV and galactic cosmic radiation.
They had no hard external shell or internal bone, three hearts were visible, and their delicate tentacles were curling and uncurling with excitement.
Caleo: Mateo! Milko! Is the shore here? Right here? I feel weird but good weird. Is that normal? Who is that with you? Are they nice? I'm feeling sooo good weird!
Mateo: Slow down a tad, Caleo! Good weird is probably excitement. Excitement is a really good feeling, right?
Caleo: Yes, good, good! Good weird excitement! A good, new word!
Milko: Caleo, this is our new friend Ouer. She is an Eoan, of the good ones. Ouer, this is our friend Caleo. We don't know the species' name, though.
Ouer: Very good and exciting to meet you, Caleo. My parents taught me how to recognize many sapient, aquatic, and amphibian species. You know, not to... accidentally mistake them for a food source. Caleo is an Urtsas. They are masters in camouflage.
Mateo: Wow, thanks, Ouer! Did you hear that, Caleo? Your people are called Urtsas!
Milko: Later, it would be really great if you, Ouer, could tell us what else you know about the Urtsas. We hope to eventually contact Caleo's people, maybe even some relatives.
Mateo: But now, behold the shore!
The large door dissolved into the air and revealed the paradise within.
Warm airflow with tiny drops of salt water caressed me tantalizingly, practically propelling my body toward the shore. I felt directional warmth and light. It looked like the ceiling wasn't there. Instead, it looked like the sky, incredibly high above. And the warmth came from a light yellow ball in the sky. I looked at Mateo, incredibly. He lifted his shoulders for a moment.
Mateo: Our cradle has one white-colored yellow dwarf star. I'm told this is an approximation of how it looks seeing it through Earth's atmosphere. It looks yellow.
Ouer: You're told? You haven't been there?
Mateo: We were six when our detestable uncle decided to kill us slowly by selling us to an Eoan ship as food. The few years with him before that weren't any better. We weren't let outside much, and he had newspapers glued to cover the windows for some obscure reason. I must have seen the Sun, but don't recall.
Milko: I'm not even sure if there are beaches on our planet. The space station we grew up on definitely didn't. This will be our first time experiencing this as well! Let's go!
These two were candid when talking about their frankly horrible past. But they were not wallowing in the wretchedness of it all. They looked towards new, positive experiences with their heads held high. They had their severe trauma. I had seen that myself. They just seemed to grasp whatever positive experiences they encountered with all manipulation extremities. And then share it others.
The floor transitioned into fine sand. There was a rockier part but I wanted to feel the sand under my foot. It was so much finer than the coarse rubble my family had to acquiesce with. Rubble made from ground, non-metallic spaceship salvage.
I reveled in the sublime experience of the smooth sand, the sunshine, and the glorious breeze. Only it was cut short by excited, high-pitched squeals. I turned around at couldn't help but laugh.
Now I knew my form was monstrous. That was the day I found out my laugh was a sound causing instinctual, instantaneous horror in other beings. Had it only been Mateo - whose association with the sound was in all probability horrific. But no. Equal terror had engulfed also Caleo and Milko, who had never heard it before.
Mateo recovered first. He had stepped in front of Milko protectively and was extending a hand to yank Caleo to safety as well. Milko had dropped her head. Something was coming out of her nostrils, something gaseous, burning, and sulfuric. Also, some sort of chitin plates on her back were raised.
Caleo had frozen mid-squeal. Half of his tentacles were pointing up at varying angles, clearly just thrown sand up in the air. A few were digging sand out of his gelatinous body, and the rest had been threading the sand, making him half-sink inside the sand dune.
I couldn't help it. It was all so hilarious. I fell backward into the sand and roared in laughter. As I said, Mateo recovered first.
Mateo: That... that eldritch sound came from you?
Milko: Eldritch?
Mateo: Right. It's a handy word for something otherworldly, eerie, and unnatural that inspires immediate fear.
Milko: A good word working hard to convey a lot of meaning.
Mateo: Quite. Ouer, was that your laughter?
Ouer: Well, yes. Caleo looked so adorably funny, I couldn't help it!
Hardly had I said that when something sandy and sticky with way too many thin tentacles jumped on my unsuspecting and unprepared soft part. It was my turn to squeal shrilly. Except it came out more like a feeble yelp due to the tentacles pressing on my air-breathing organ.
I was stunned for a moment. A good thing I was. The child was obviously not attacking with menace but incredibly with joy. They were laughing in a way that distantly mimicked mine! Seeing that my other two friends' alarm converted into hilarity as well.
The sand was fun but the smell of salt water and the sound of the water moving rhythmically soon became irresistible. When we arrived at the point where the water started we all just looked at it in wonder. It was magical. It was soothing. Peaceful. Awe-inspiring. Home.
In the shallow, the water was turquoise and moved further into the sand and then back again in a gentle, slightly froth-edged movement. The water seemed to sparkle in the light of the sun. I was hypnotized.
Mateo: Those are waves! They're so...so... beautiful!
Ouer: Yes, that's the word I was looking for: waves!
Caleo: Ayeeeij!
We turned to look at Caleo who was waddling towards the water. He stopped at a place where the water was only a few centimeters deep.
Caleo: Ooooh, I like this moving water! And I like the water-sand that moves under me! C'mon, you slow people, come try this!
That was all the rest of us needed to join the kid. Mateo had quickly taken off most of his clothes and was wearing short pants. I had to fast intake a large amount of air when I saw the scars on his body.
I would never, ever, in any circumstance belittle anyone's trauma again like I did when we first met. How - just how - had he survived?
He joined Caleo in the shallow water, lifting his legs like a decapod crustacean, trying to bring wet sand up with his toes and throwing water on himself - and Caleo who happened to be near him. Caleo retaliated by sucking water in through their body and then squirting it on Mateo's face in a stream. A war ensued, one with water, wet sand, and laughter as weapons.
I looked at Milko. She stood timidly at the fringe of the water, just letting the very tips of her feet touch the water. She felt my gaze and looked a little embarrassed.
Milko: I don't think our planet has surface water in any meaningful quantities. We have mountains and meadows, valleys and small mountain brooks. And rocky desert galore. I'm also not sure if my form is compatible with floating.
Mateo: Neither is Ouer's. You could always dive and just come back up for short periods to take some air.
Milko: Brother, you don't swim either!
Mateo: No. But I can always stand and walk in shallow water. And I can sit in the water!
And that's when he plopped down to sit. The water splashed everywhere, even on Milko. I got some, too. That's when Milko charged right in front of Mateo, made herself as wide as possible, and splashed him really well when she plopped down to sit.
Mateo cleared the water from his face and laughed. But that was the moment the dragon girl had waited. She lifted and struck the water hard on her long, prehensile, and powerful tail. Mateo got a good spurt of salt water into his open mouth.
By then Milko had sprinted away. Mateo gave chase. But the two were laughing the entire time. It was just play.
I went to the shallow and let the waves wash my lower body. It was almost overwhelming. Caleo approached me and tapped my shell with one thin tentacle.
Caleo: I know. More water than you can understand. I had no words. I couldn't think, just feel.
We stood there together for several minutes, two aquatic beings, pondering things too big for our brains.
Caleo: Wanna go deeper?
Ouer: I'm afraid I go underwater completely and my gills won't work. I have never needed them before.
Caleo: Don't worry. Even if they don't work, you can hold your breath until you get up again.
Ouer: You are very smart.
Caleo: No, I'm dumb. No one says it here, but my owners did. All the time.
Ouer: They weren't your owners, Caleo. They were criminals, kidnappers, and slavers. Slavers of children, which makes them the worst of all slavers.
Caleo: What is kidnapping?
Ouer: Take a person away by force or by lying and not letting them go.
Caleo: They didn't do that. They bought my egg and made me. So I was theirs to do what they liked with.
Mateo: Is that what they said? They were lying to you. They didn't make you, Caleo. Your parents did.
Caleo: But maybe my parents gave ... sold...
Milko: That doesn't matter. Stolen, bought, kidnapped, cheated, found, incubated, whatever. You are a sapient being and sapient beings cannot be owned.
Mateo: Ouer was right: they didn't own you. They were illegally keeping you imprisoned, they hurt you and they forced you to work for them. They are scum.
Caleo: Scum?
Mateo: You know how trash comes to the surface of water? If you have really dirty, trashy, smelly, horrible water, what comes to the surface of that? The most horrible of the horrible? That is scum.
Caleo let out a peal of surprised laughter. We all joined. Then we all went a little deeper into the water. Caleo suddenly disappeared from view to our alarm. But soon I could see them swooshing here and there, propelled by their tentacles. I pointed them to Mateo and Milko.
I approached the deep carefully. The more of my body I got under water the better I felt. The buoyancy of the water made me feel a lot more graceful. A lot less monsterlike.
At some point, I realized I was getting oxygen from the water when my gills were still above it.
Ouer: Mateo and Milko, why am I breathing water without my gills?!
Milko: I read about this. Many beings like you can breathe through your skin. And your gills double as a sort of mouth.
Ouer: Mouth?!? You're not serious!
Mateo: It's true. If you are in a body of water that has food particles, your gills trap those small particles. You are quite remarkable, Ouer!
Ouer: Can you come with me to the deep water? I'm a little apprehensive still...
Mateo; I would love to ... but ... I don't know how to swim...
Ouer: Oh, I'm sorry I asked.
Mateo: It's nothing. I mean...it doesn't matter.
Caleo: Ouer! Ouer! Ouer! Come and swim with me!
Mateo: Go on, Ouer! Go have fun!
And fun I had! I started to feel like these people could be trusted. Mainly because they genuinely wanted to give me and Caleo a wonderful day. And they asked no questions or even hinted that I should now reciprocate somehow.
I slept so well after that day. I only wondered if our planet used to be like that. I also wondered if my parents experienced water like that.
And slowly I started to feel some hope for the future. Maybe my people could find a watery home. Live and not only exist.
÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷¢÷
First Previous [Next]()

I've been working in public libraries since high school, so 25 years at this point. I was a page, desk person, worked in technical services, and finally as a branch manager for the past 18 years. I'm done.
I love libraries. I love reading. I love helping people. I feel like we've strayed so far from what libraries traditionally do without any support and the staff and management are suffering from whiplash and what I'd call compassion fatigue, particularly since the pandemic.
We've been called upon to fill in the gaps left by social service with no training, not enough staff, little/no security, piled upon day after day. Where I worked they kept adding more services despite the protests of staff.
There were consistent issues with patrons in crisis that the services attracted, the staff and I were unprepared and not trained to deal with, up to and including daily microagressions and just incidents of violence.
There was never adequate time to get staff trained properly, because the training didn't really exist. As a result of these occurrences we had high absenteeism due to physical and mental health issues experienced by the staff. I was constantly in a state of hiring new staff and trying to make up being short staffed.
When I reported all of this to administration I got very little support or it came too little too late. Their responses to events was to shush them up. Events happened at other branches in neighborhoods that were predominantly white and their reactions were much different.
Unfortunately, though they are happy to throw social services they force the staff to administer because it makes the library system look good, they know nothing about actually what it takes to do it. I invited administration multiple times to spend more than a few minutes visiting while I was manager and they never did.
Libraries need to invest in their staff as much as they do these programs. It takes time and money to hire and train new staff and they won't have any to keep up with the demand of these services. They might also consider that libraries are not prescriptive and merely a means for someone to take action "themselves" to better their lives.
I am not a social worker. I am a librarian. That's all I ever wanted to be. If libraries ever become that again maybe I'll come back 😌

Hello fellow parents! I’m a first time mom to a 2 year old girl. She starts daycare this week (I will also be starting work there) and I’m super anxious about our health (mainly hers). Not only for her well being but for financial purposes, if she’s out the whole week due to being sick, i will also miss work and will still have to pay. Throughout my 2 years of being a parent I’ve read and heard many many stories of how their kid was sick for literal weeks/months after first starting daycare. I have a pretty good immune system, I get a major cold/the flu MAYBE once a year, sometimes not at all. In the 2 years my daughter has been alive she has gotten a few very minor colds and had maybe 2 fevers. She is currently still breastfeeding so I know that helps boost their immune system. We also go out in public regularly- the grocery store, theme parks, regular parks, the library, the mall, we like going out! I guess I’m looking for some personal stories for reassurance? I want to hear that you sent your kid to daycare and everything was fine LOL

First
Memory transcription subject: Luke Schmidt, Human Businessman
Date [standardized human time]: December 18th, 2136
I was the only human in the bar. I chalked it up to timing and chance, as it wasn’t a hostile bar. Aside from a few glances and the fact that people passing by my table took great care not to touch me, I had no issues. I could barely keep my head off the table, but that was more a function of tiredness than anything. I had arrived on Venlil Prime only a few days ago, and the goofy sleep schedule messed with my brain. Barlethy Shipping did provide us with blackout curtains to set up over the windows of our bedrooms, but it was still challenging.
That wasn’t even mentioning all the work I’d been doing. I was a salesman for Barlethy Shipping, which had been established for about 50 years prior to First Contact. FTL ships were horrendously expensive, and usually only the government had access to them, but the Barlethy billionaire family cared quite a bit about expanding their business on this frontier, and were willing to pour millions into private FTL ships for their employees, as well as efforts to ensure that the Venlil legal system wasn’t a hassle. I was meant to set up business deals with aliens, using a variety of methods of varying moral standing, and although others had already done so, there was still a whole planet of opportunity.
As such, I had been talking to Venlil, viewing their wares, and traveling almost all the time I’d been here. When I wasn’t doing that, I was eating and sleeping. I really needed a break, so after fourteen hours of business, I arrived at the bar for a much-needed drink. I’d made a few successful deals thus far, so hopefully Barlethy Shipping wouldn’t mind the downtime too much.
I wasn’t really paying attention to the aliens around me, as I was rather exhausted, so I didn’t notice when the unfamiliar alien walked up to me. I did not recognize which species this was, which energized me. New things always did. The species was honestly rather ugly, which was weird because all the aliens I’d seen thus far were either cute or sleek, in my opinion. They had rough gray elephant skin with sparse thick, black hairs scattered around it, which made them look more like a hairy human than like an alien with fur. The top of their snout dangled down over their mouth, and they had short tusks and weird little giraffe horns. Their tail curled up like a squirrel’s, and their fingers were long, thin, and far too numerous. They looked like a squat, mammalian Arxur. And then, they sat down across from me.
“Hello there. You’re unique too! Isn’t that fun? Being the only one of your kind in sight really isn’t all that fun, but you get used to it,” she said, in a friendly, conversational tone that was apparently female, according to my translator.
I didn’t think that unfamiliar aliens were willing to get within an arm's length of unfamiliar humans. Maybe the Venlil or our other good allies, but I had never seen this race before. I said as much. “Pardon me, but who and what are you? I have never seen your species before, and I don’t think you’re allied with humanity.” I figured that she must be a regular here, since nobody gave her a second glance. Maybe she’d expressed wanting to meet a human for a while. I still had no idea what her deal was, though.
I think I came across a little harsher than I intended, but she didn’t seem to mind. She began, “Oh, pardon my manners. My name is Polkif, and I am a Zhetsian. You’re right, we’re not allied with humanity, and there aren’t a whole lot of us on Venlil Prime, so you probably haven’t heard of us. We don’t have a very large diaspora. I’ve been here a few years, and I’m used to being a novelty.”
I hummed, interested. Some part of me was always eager to talk to aliens, and I could indulge that now. Most of the time, my interactions with aliens were distinctly more… hostile, than I’d like, but that was unavoidable. Well, here was an opportunity to avoid hostilities! Though, I was still wondering why this wasn't shaping up to be hostile, so I asked, “Why are you comfortable walking up to random, unfamiliar humans? Even people who have been here since First Contact with us and who generally like humans aren’t often comfortable doing that. Especially since we have a reputation for being aggressive when drunk.”
Polkif snuffled, which my translator told me was laughter. After a few seconds, she said, “Well, we’re Zhetsians! We’re expected to be bold. We do have to be mindful of other species’ norms when offworld, but I don’t think they’ll kick my door down and drag me off to the predator disease facility just for being excited about talking to a human. I suppose you don’t know if they will until they do it, but I’ve gone this long without biased officers bagging me, so I figure my logic holds up. Besides, I don’t mind standing out and having to make an effort to fit in if it means I can avoid the current issues on my native planet, Miluja. Well, the issues are everywhere in Zhetsian space, but they’re especially strong there.”
I was intrigued, and thoughts of tiredness were out of my mind. Of course, there were a whole lot of aliens with all different cultures and histories, but this was new, even compared to other aliens I knew of, and was shaping up to be exciting. I would be especially tired later, but I didn’t mind the adrenaline that interest and excitement gave me right now. I prompted her, “What kind of issues?”
Polkif obliged me. “Civil unrest issues. All five Zhetsian planets are having issues with stampedes, mobs, protesting, and armed rebellion, but on Miluja it’s devolved into a civil war. Or Colony World 3, as it’s known offworld. They don’t like that we landed on naming it after Milu, since they say he had predator disease, but it’s tradition to call it that, and I like it better than the generic name, at least.
“Once the Cilany broadcast came out and reached us, it was pandemonium. Due to the anti-predator religion, a lot of people assumed that we were predators, so we split from the Federation. All the death cults and secret predator or predator-diseased sympathizers came out of the woodwork declaring this to be proof that they were right all along, and now everyone should join up with them and make a utopia, or something. Of course, all the elements that prevented those guys from making themselves known before were still there, so the government and the Federation-sympathizers cracked down on them. The rebellious elements were emboldened, though, and had quite a few guns and lots of repurposed farming equipment, so they fought back. This led to all the sympathizers still in the government to come out and support the rebellion too, except they were discovered, and you had tusk-fights in offices everywhere. It devolved from there, and now the whole planet is engulfed in civil war.
“The other planets are doing better, though not by much. Nitto is probably doing the best out of all of them, since the overwhelming majority of the government and populace was able to unite around the Nitre Rebellion’s legacy and kick the Federation out. Kipresa and Colony World 4 are undergoing low-level fighting and their share of unrest; their problems are mitigated by the fact that most of Kipresa just want to make money and aren’t up for fighting, and Colony World 4 knows that its denizens are mostly criminals, so they have a habit of not looking too closely as long as you don’t cause problems and there continue to be people willing to buy their ore. Mother Plains, our homeworld, has had more luck with the government cracking down on rebellion and dissent, but there are still decently sized patches that are held by rebel forces, and the Federation and government are growing more unpopular by the day.
“In short, there’s fighting and disruptions everywhere, though the last ship that came from Zhetsian space came a month ago, and I’m not sure how it’s progressed without me. The fact that no more ships have come is troubling enough. As for alliances, I can’t imagine that the UN wants to get involved in our civil wars, especially since most of the official governments would reject them anyway. So, we’re not allied with either the Federation or the UN, and I think we're best off focusing on getting ourselves to a stable position before helping anyone else with their problems.”
I sat back, stunned. Of course, in the back of my mind, I had figured that there might be intraspecies fighting somewhere in the Federation, but I’d started to discount that as a possibility, with how herd-focused and timid the Federation seemed. Species-wide civil wars and unrest was not what I expected. Though, if that’s what the situation back home was like, no wonder it seemed perfectly safe walking up to strange humans. I’ve known a few people from countries with civil unrest issues, and while some of them are intensely paranoid, some are fearless and barely blink at what normal people would consider notable dangers.
She continued after a few seconds. “I’m not quite sure where I stand on the issue. I am quite willing to call my home Miluja, and I have a lot of family who are farmers and on that side of the conflict, but you get leery of supporting such people after long enough away. The walls have ears when it comes to expressing dissent, you know. You’ve got to be on high alert if you want to do things the Federation government doesn’t approve of without them knocking on your door. It gets exhausting to hold such opinions after a while, in the face of all the opposition to them.”
She shook her head side-to-side slightly, and it occurred to me that she was probably looking for listeners in her blind spot. She had lowered her voice, too, so that I had to strain to hear her over the din of the bar. Even with how milquetoast that bit of opposition to the Federation ideology seemed, she didn’t seem like she wanted people to notice it. I’d had my share of paranoia, certain that the aggressive and somewhat underhanded negotiation tactics I’d used would be revealed, and I’d be fired and cause a huge diplomatic incident that would end in me being burned to a crisp. Well, her concerns couldn't have been that bad, since she seemed to settle down quickly enough. After she was done, she tipped her head back a bit to sip from her drink. Her snout prevented her from tilting the glass to her mouth all the way.
I decided to talk about myself a bit, since she seemed inclined to sit in silence, though she didn’t move away from my table. “Well, I’m sure you know about Earth. I’m here because I’m a representative of Barlethy Shipping, and I’m supposed to be negotiating deals with aliens, mostly Venlil. It doesn’t sound like we’ll be dealing with Zhetsians anytime soon, if it’s as bad as you say over there. I’ve been here for about a week on this trip, though I was here for a few weeks already during the Battle of Earth, and I’m already exhausted. Work and a weird sleep schedule will do that for you. After I’m done here, I’m going back to my hotel to sleep.”
Polkif responded, “Ah, I see. I’ve been an offworld business rep before, and it is not fun. Seeing other planets is enjoyable to a degree, but the schedule is grueling, other planets always have weird day/night cycles, and people tend to look down on Zhetsians as rebellious. I left for Venlil Prime about five years ago to help run a new branch of the farming equipment manufacturer I did sales for, though they try to hide their Zhetsian origins, and I exclusively work in non-public-facing roles. I was supposed to come back last month, but that didn’t pan out for obvious reasons. Oh well, I’ve got stable employment, since they’ve kept me on, and I think I can manage.”
I checked my holopad, and noted the time. It was 30 minutes until I wanted to go back to my apartment and sleep, since I’d scheduled an hour for this. A few thoughts flashed through my mind, most notably that getting back earlier would result in even more sleep, and that Polkif seemed nervous about discussing certain topics where others could hear. An idea sprang to mind, and I voiced it. “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, but I probably ought to start heading back to my hotel room. Do you want to discuss more things on the way? I’d love to hear more about you and your species, but it’s rather crowded in here.”
Something glinted in her eyes, and her fingers started twitching madly, bringing to mind images of sea anemones with bony tentacles. She responded, in a rather weird tone, “Oh, I’d love to do that. I don’t need to be anywhere for another three claws, so I’d be glad to discuss things on the way. Why don’t we finish our drinks and go?”
I’d almost finished my drink, so I downed the rest just as she chugged over half of her glass at once to finish it. As she hopped off the stool, I stopped leaning on the wall behind me, a poor substitute for a backrest, stretched my back a bit, and then grabbed my things and followed her.
It was rather empty outside, with only a few scattered and easily-avoidable groups of Venlil here and there on the street. I started towards my hotel, and Polkif followed. Once we’d gotten a decent ways away from anyone, Polkif started talking in a quiet but still conversational voice. “So what would you like to know?”
“Anything interesting,” I said. “Perhaps why you have a reputation for being rebellious, or why your government doesn’t like this Milu character, or why some of your planets are having it worse than others.”
“The walls have ears, but I have better vision and probably better hearing than you and most Venlil, so I’ll stop talking if there’s a chance of unwanted listeners. Do note that what I'm about to tell you is not the official history, and I could get in very serious trouble if people knew that I believed, or at least seriously considered, this stuff. I can drag you down with me if you start telling people about it. Capiche?”
This sounded serious, especially since her tone had gotten noticeably sharper. She seemed a lot more alert and less casual now, even considering the comments she made in the bar about the officials who handled predator disease, which reminded me of the old “knock on the door” of governments who took away people who opposed them, now that I thought about them. That was worrying, but it was probably something that required more context to understand. Also, it did not occur to me that aliens would have a word that translated to “capiche”, but I considered that it was context-appropriate and nodded. Polkif continued.
“Alright, so the first thing to know is that unwanted ideas and movements that spring up among us never quite manage to die, however much the Federation wants them to. We have quite a few dissident groups that are officially labeled “death cults”, as well as a lot of rebellious movements that the Federation has been working to stamp out. Many of these groups have survived centuries of opposition, and sometimes they preexist First Contact. The most notable of these groups are Linked Chains, the Steward Branch, the Inside, and the Nitre rebellion stuff on Nitto. Though, Linked Chains has spread offworld and has a pretty significant non-Zhetsian membership, so it isn’t near-exclusively Zhetsian like the others.
“What you should know is that, apart from a handful of bog-standard criminals and a few people looking for an excuse to cause harm, nobody dies or supports dying or misery in those groups. The Steward Branch is a religion that, especially now, is suspected to have been the original, true religion of Zhetsians, and which has as a core doctrine the idea that all life is precious and necessary for gaining true understanding. Including the predatory life. Linked Chains thinks that predators are necessary for the ecosystem to function properly, something that you humans seem to agree with. The Inside and the pro-Nitre stuff are the anti-Federation movements on Miluja and Nitto, respectively.
“The official accounts are pretty accurate as far as the origins of three of the movements, though Bilte is not evil, stupid, or manipulative like they portray him, the non-Steward branches are likely some combination of invented or blown way out of proportion by the Federation, and they like to underrepresent the amount of animosity that lingered after the Nitre rebellion’s resource issues were handled. Really, you need unofficial sources to get good histories for anything involving those movements. The thing they lie the most about, though, is the origins of the Inside on Miluja.
“A little over a century ago, Miluja, then only known as Colony World 3, started a program of reintroducing certain predators onto the planet in order to deal with pests. We’re a farming colony, you understand, so dealing with pests was a rather large priority, and sheer practicality overwhelmed the propaganda in this instance. The Exterminators Union threatened to withdraw over these changes, the planet called their bluff, and they left, only to realize that nobody wanted them back. A bounty system was implemented for unapproved wild predators, but a lot of other predators besides the original pest-killers started hanging around and coming out from the unannihilated parts of the wilderness that had been left when the Union left. People stopped minding, apparently. You can still access The Seven Sons of Aboulo TV show if you know where to look, it tells you something about what it was like back then. Much better than the contemporary first iteration of The Exterminators, which was a piece of over-the-top propaganda, though I digress.
“Of course, that wasn’t going to last forever. I can only imagine the reason we didn’t get shut down instantly was because we were, and remain, a bit of a backwater, and they all bought into their own lies enough that they thought we’d collapse on our own due to our changes. We didn’t, so they started helping the process along.
“The Farsul showed up to Zhetsian space and started poking around. The Farsul poking around in an unimportant, obscure species like ours can only mean trouble. They did some preliminary reconnaissance, then they threatened us if we didn’t disarm all of our civilian ships. We had the bright idea to retrofit all of our ships with guns, but apparently that encourages predator behavior, or something. Those made up almost all of our fleet! We really couldn’t afford the sanctions, scrutiny, accusations, and ostracization that would come from defying the Farsul, so we dutifully disarmed our ships, and shortly thereafter the Arxur showed up.”
At that, Polkif stopped talking, and a Venlil suddenly came out of a building that we had assumed was closed, almost hitting us with the door. The Venlil only heard the last part about the Arxur showing up, according to my calculations, and after a look of startlement that he shared with us, he turned around and headed the opposite direction. Polkif exhaled, and said, “The annoying thing about Venlil Prime is that there isn’t a night when everyone sleeps. There’s always a sizable portion of the population awake and active at any given moment, so you can’t avoid people staring at you nearly as much as you’d like.”
I bet a lot of people stared at Polkif. She seemed to be a regular in that bar, but elsewhere? Given that Polkif had stopped talking before I noticed the Venlil coming out of the building, I got the feeling that she was hyper-aware of scrutiny and always thinking about how people would perceive her every move. The walls have ears, after all. No wonder she was so noncommittal in the bar, compared to here. I figured that I should keep my observations to myself, though, and responded, “I can see that. On the bright side, not having a night means there’s nowhere you shouldn’t go at night. Wait, does the Federation even have street crime?”
Polkif snorted, which my translator told me indicated derision, same as for humans. “You’re more likely to get reported for predator disease for being out alone than to get mugged. But, yes, that will happen on occasion. Usually it takes the form of criminals running up, grabbing your bag, and running off again, no violence or confrontation involved. I know for a fact that there’s more violent crime than the Federation likes to admit to, though. Anyway, back to the story? Nobody’s watching.”
“Please.”
“Alright, so where were we? Farsul, ships, Arxur… Ah yes, the Arxur raid. After our fleet was significantly reduced, a fleet of more than a thousand Arxur ships showed up to Colony World 3. Normally this would be a death sentence, but a combination of tactics, guts, and on-the-ground resistance ended in us decimating the Arxur fleet, which then retreated with almost no cattle. Miluja hasn't had any Arxur problems since; they say we taste bad, and decimating their fleet probably put us firmly in the “don’t bother” camp. Fine by us! Anyway, during the battle, we’d asked around for help, but the other planets weren’t willing to divert resources, and I also suspect they wanted to avoid retaliation. They had to have known about the Farsul ship order. We also sent a few scouts further away to ask for help from other species, and that fleet did show up! Once the battle was already over and the Arxur were already retreating. Lazy cowards barely fired a single shot.
“As you might imagine, that fleet, known as the Assistance Fleet, stuck around. They offered to help us rebuild our bombed infrastructure and almost-annihilated fleet, for a hefty sum of cash and quite a lot of food. The other requirement was that we revert all of the changes we had made regarding predators and accept what was essentially an occupation. Our remaining pristine wilderness? Gone. Our new and unique ideas? Either well-hidden, taught away, or trapped in the minds of those stuck in facilities. Our wildlife? Mostly gone, although the original netry birds and jutalem are still around, despite the best efforts of the exterminators. Stubborn little bastards, they are. Some have taken them as a sort of symbol.
“The last important bit from that period is Milu. Things really sucked after the Assistance Fleet established themselves, as stated previously. Milu was a bureaucrat who schemed to smuggle out a whole bunch of information that the Outside occupiers wanted to destroy, subverted a great many efforts to diagnose people with predator disease and kill predators, and even worked to convince the physical fleet to head home instead of being threatening in our orbit. All around a stellar guy. He eventually got found out, diagnosed, and sent to a facility. The Outside tried to publicize it, for whichever reason, maybe to demoralize the Inside. It instead turned into a huge scandal, which ended in somebody blowing up the facility Milu was kept in, which resulted in several staff members dying and most of the inmates escaping, including Milu, who was never seen again. People started calling the colony Miluja around that time. Means something like “Milu’s Continuation” in the old Zhetsian language that people use to name things. As you can imagine, the Outside does not like that name, and while using it isn’t enough for a diagnosis, it will get you a whole lot of scrutiny that can easily lead to one.
“So, that’s that, mostly. Lots of fighting, lots of rebellion, lots of farmers telling their children all the things they don't teach in schools, and always the looming Federation ready to squash anything they don’t like. Personally, I’m quite surprised you lot managed to get a foothold. They go so hard on the propaganda.”
That was… a lot to take in. ‘Why does the Federation let them be like this?’ and ‘How horrible can the Federation be?’ were hardly original thoughts at this point, so I latched on to the one thing I understood well. “Well, Tarva was nice and nobody rushed us until we could handle it, and those were the lucky parts. Beyond that, it’s really a matter of time, as people see us not snapping and eating them. Personally, I suspect that the Federation going so hard on the propaganda was their undoing. They tell everyone that predators are pure evil, then predators who aren’t pure evil show up, so people figure the old framework no longer applies and they start judging things more rationally.”
Polkif hummed for a second, then responded, “That’s a decent theory. One would hope that some of that tolerance would extend to me, but I suppose you’re new, and old habits die hard. You know, there’s a few places on the planet I can’t go because of how riled up the populace is about predators, especially lately with you humans arriving. We’re the rebels, so I must be doing something horrible! Clowns, the lot of them.”
I imagine Polkif couldn’t get away with much, if what I took from her was accurate. Her race may have had some leeway with how deviant they were expected to be, but everything about her told me she was always under a lot of scrutiny. Though, this information didn’t seem like someone who perfectly obeyed every law and whim of the Federation would know about. So, I asked her, “If you’re under so much scrutiny, how do you know all this stuff? These unofficial histories don’t seem like something you could easily access.”
Polkif spoke again, but slower and with a weird cadence. “There’s more scrutiny for the Zhetsian diaspora than for Zhetsians on Zhetsian planets. That’s not to say that you aren’t always on high alert at all hours of the day because you never know who’s watching, who’s listening, who’ll report you, and what they’ll take as a sign that you have predator disease, or need your assets confiscated, or what have you. It just means that you have more trustworthy confidants and more leeway on Zhetsian planets. More people who can tell you stories and pass around contraband.
“As a relevant example of contraband, have you ever heard of The History of Non-Sapient Predators?”
I said, “No, I haven’t.”
She started twitching her fingers again, and the front of her snout flopped around a bit. I wasn’t aware she could move it. Then, she spoke. “The History of Non-Sapient Predators is one of the most well-known contraband books, at least amongst Zhetsians. It’s generally considered unsafe for us to get involved in movements offworld, and I’m not sure what contraband books exist elsewhere. Anyway, it’s up there with The Wild and Wondrous Deep, The Linked Chain, and The Social Strain. It’s an anthology of documents from the Galactic Archives, detailing the rise and fall of Colony World 3’s anti-Federation movement, as well as the context it takes place in.
“Most of the documents are publicly accessible in the Galactic Archives, just arranged in an unflattering manner. Some of them require special credentials to access, and a few are definitely not in the Archives, or reference documents that aren’t. It’s a common rumor that the Farsul Government Employee Registry doesn’t exist and is either completely hidden for some reason or a code for something else; also that many documents that used to be on the public network but classified were deleted or moved to a secret location or network after this book was created.
“It’s published under a pseudonym, and there are many theories on who made it. Whoever created it would have had to go to the Farsul homeworld, since the Archives are located there, and would have had to find a way to access non-public documents. It was definitely compiled before Milu, since neither he nor the name Miluja are mentioned. It cuts off after the Rebuilding starts. It was likely made by either a Zhetsian from Miluja or someone who greatly values Miluja, since it’s really only our history, despite the broad-sounding title. I’m sure there are other books detailing other species’ forgotten histories and interactions with non-sapient predators, but I don’t know about them. This is the history of our non-sapient predators.
“Anyway, that book is the defining source of the actual history of the Inside and Colony World 3. Copies are rare, but I used to know someone who had one back on Miluja.”
Wow. With every word that came out of Polkif’s mouth, a picture was being made of the side of the Federation that was so old and paranoid that it wouldn’t reveal itself, even now that Federation narratives were being questioned across the planet, or especially now that that was happening. Though, apparently Polkif wasn’t so paranoid as to hide it from me. I knew that my status as a human made people assume I was comfortable with predatory things, but I found that I did not take Polkif for the type to trust anyone she wasn’t extremely confident in. So I asked her, “Why are you telling me all this? I know I’m a human, but I could tell people. I’m a stranger to you.”
She snuffled again. “Remember when I said that I could drag you down with me? Well, I’ve actually been looking into you for a bit. You’re the only human I’ve seen out here, what can I say? I was interested. I’m quite good at navigating electronic things, and I happen to have discovered several dossiers of blackmail that your shipping company has provided you to help you make deals. Perhaps not as predatory as it could be, but I’m sure I could portray it properly if I needed to make this known to appropriate parties. I’m sure you know how illegal it is and how much of a diplomatic incident this would create.”
Wait.
She knew about that?
Sudden terror gripped me. I liked to think of my activities as aggressive business tactics, but her statement reminded me that it was still blackmail and would likely end in jail time and a diplomatic incident if I were caught. She also refueled the paranoia of getting reported for it that had been plaguing me ever since I arrived on Venlil Prime as a businessman. And, since this random alien who was simply interested in me could find it, that meant that I was in a very precarious position. Out of fear, and desperation, I shot back, “If I reported you, wouldn’t law enforcement just take you away before you could do anything, and wouldn’t they not listen to you if you’re a known predator? You seemed to imply that back at the bar.”
She replied just as quickly, “Exterminators. They deal with cases of predator disease, or really any crime involving the Zhetsian diaspora as they like to assume that we all have predator disease. Anyways, as you’re a human, they’re much less likely to believe anything you say, and that combined with experience and security measures means I will absolutely have time to send it off before they get me. I can be anonymous if need be. And don’t you try to delegate reporting to anyone or do it anonymously; if anyone comes knocking on my door, I’m blaming you, and out this goes.”
Well, damn. I stopped in the middle of the street to think, barely noticing Polkif’s eye glittering as she stopped next to me. I really should have known that someone like Polkif would only reveal anything to anyone if she was very sure that they wouldn’t reveal anything. Whether because she trusted them as people, or because she held something over them. I drastically misjudged her; she was intensely paranoid, but so good at masking that you never knew until she was already acting against you.
The aggressive negotiation tactics already stressed me out. When combined with Polkif’s knowledge of them, they made me feel far out of my depth. My mind was racing, but something did occur to me, and I asked her, “Do you do this frequently for the sake of it, or do you want something from me? You don’t seem the type to task unnecessary risks.”
More snuffling, of what I thought was a distinctly different character than previous snuffling. Probably a malicious laughter, if I had to guess. “I did have an idea that required a human. When I said that I had no copy of The History of Non-Sapient Predators on Venlil Prime, I lied. Had to see how you reacted, after all. I do indeed have a copy that I took with me from Miluja, and have made copies of it since. I was thinking that humanity having a copy would be useful. You guys can translate it, make copies, get famous and make boatloads of cash off of it, or whatever else you can think of. The Federation doesn't have eyes or tendrils on Earth, so the book, our history, won’t die, or at least it has a greater chance not to. I have no clue how many copies there are across the Federation, but I know it’s not that many. I was under the impression that humans quite liked the preservation of knowledge and history, based on what I’ve seen of humanity’s reaction to the Cilany and Yotul situations. So, you wouldn’t mind preserving important history that's been suppressed by the Federation.”
That was… surprisingly benign. I was about ready for her to demand I fork over all of my money, go rogue with my company ship, or commit crimes against exterminators and the government. A little bit of smuggling, especially of something this important, was nothing, especially compared to the activities I’d been engaging in. I already had to smuggle in some of the negotiation material, anyway.
She continued, “As I said, this book is very, very illegal, and even as a human you’re likely to get in a lot of trouble for having it. As you’ve already been able to hide all that blackmail, you shouldn’t have a problem hiding this, but do be careful, and do not get caught. Only look at it once you’re back on Earth, away from prying eyes, and don’t let your company find out until you don’t need their support. I'd recommend keeping your identity wholly separate from your ownership of that book. As for getting it to you, I happen to know that you’re going to be going to a certain library to do research on Venlil agricultural history tomorrow - you really shouldn’t use the DailyMemo112 app, it has poor security - so when you get there, look out for the book titled “History of Agricultural Exports of Venlil Prime: Volume 18” by “Bitsly” in the agriculture section. It’s a fake cover, obviously, with a few fake pages too, but it's what you're looking for, so take it and go. You should probably buy a few other books about Venlil Prime trade, for cover. Any questions?”
Aside from the fact that she casually mentioned that she knew about my daily schedule for the remaining 2 weeks of my trip, that was surprisingly straightforward. A few plans for what I'd do with the book were even percolating in my mind; I'd translate them to English, of course, and then I could post them anonymously online, maybe I could put a paywall or tip jar in there to make money off of it? I didn't need the money, since my job paid me well, but this could blow up, and I wouldn't be one of Barlethy Shipping's spacefaring employees if I didn't keep an eye out for opportunity. None of these ideas were something I needed Polkif for, though. So, I replied, “No. Uh, thank you for telling me all this? Fascinating stuff.”
“You’re welcome, and thank you, if you pull this off successfully. Oh, and don’t tell the UN. They care quite a bit about Venlil laws and sovereignty, you know. Them knowing will attract attention that neither of us want. Never tell anyone anything unless you absolutely have to, you know. Now, I believe that is your hotel right there?”
I looked away from Polkif, and noticed that we were indeed in front of the huge, gray hotel building I was staying in. I wasn't sure how Polkif knew it was mine, but I probably shouldn't have been surprised at that point. It spoke to how adrift and detached from all non-business endeavors I was on Venlil Prime that I didn’t recognize the area around the place I was staying until it was pointed out to me. With a sudden bout of melancholy washing out some of the paranoia, I said, “Indeed.”
She flopped her snout around a bit, twitching her fingers all the while. I assumed, or at least hoped, that this was the Zhetsian version of smiling. “See you never, probably. Further contact would only be suspicious. The walls have ears, so be careful. Goodbye.”
I watched her walk off, back towards the bar. I entered my hotel, feeling dazed now that everything had time to settle in. The adrenaline was wearing off, and with nothing new or exciting to occupy my attention, I crashed hard. Exhaustion, combined with the events and emotions of the past hour, made me incapable of having thoughts more complex than a sense of paranoia and a desire to go to bed.
I stumbled up to my room and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, without even pulling the blackout curtains over the window.
Previous

I am attempting to run my TF project on a Jenkins Pipeline, however I keep failing.
Can someone give me an idea of what could be wrong as I have no idea how to properly decipher Console Output.
​

Started by user azureadmin Checking out git https://github.com/Shubham1106/JenkinsCICD.git into C:\Users\azureadmin\AppData\Local\Jenkins\.jenkins\workspace\[email protected]\b1fd1ec90e3066750df9bc3d40fcc567fb7a43ea3ef160f8b2395957c32fc582 to read Jenkinsfile Selected Git installation does not exist. Using Default The recommended git tool is: NONE No credentials specified > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe rev-parse --resolve-git-dir C:\Users\azureadmin\AppData\Local\Jenkins\.jenkins\workspace\[email protected]\b1fd1ec90e3066750df9bc3d40fcc567fb7a43ea3ef160f8b2395957c32fc582\.git # timeout=10 Fetching changes from the remote Git repository > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe config remote.origin.url https://github.com/Shubham1106/JenkinsCICD.git # timeout=10 Fetching upstream changes from https://github.com/Shubham1106/JenkinsCICD.git > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe --version # timeout=10 > git --version # 'git version 2.40.1.windows.1' > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe fetch --tags --force --progress -- https://github.com/Shubham1106/JenkinsCICD.git +refs/heads/*:refs/remotes/origin/* # timeout=10 > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe rev-parse "origin/main^{commit}" # timeout=10 Checking out Revision 59649ab7937d2128398917fc44cb81a054aedb6d (origin/main) > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe config core.sparsecheckout # timeout=10 > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe checkout -f 59649ab7937d2128398917fc44cb81a054aedb6d # timeout=10 Commit message: "Update Jenkinsfile" > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe rev-list --no-walk 7eab32408c452e13316e3945c98ebbc05d7e4dbf # timeout=10 [Pipeline] Start of Pipeline [Pipeline] node Running on Jenkins in C:\Users\azureadmin\AppData\Local\Jenkins\.jenkins\workspace\AzureresourcesDeployWithJenkins [Pipeline] { [Pipeline] stage [Pipeline] { (Declarative: Checkout SCM) [Pipeline] checkout Selected Git installation does not exist. Using Default The recommended git tool is: NONE No credentials specified > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe rev-parse --resolve-git-dir C:\Users\azureadmin\AppData\Local\Jenkins\.jenkins\workspace\AzureresourcesDeployWithJenkins\.git # timeout=10 Fetching changes from the remote Git repository > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe config remote.origin.url https://github.com/Shubham1106/JenkinsCICD.git # timeout=10 Fetching upstream changes from https://github.com/Shubham1106/JenkinsCICD.git > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe --version # timeout=10 > git --version # 'git version 2.40.1.windows.1' > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe fetch --tags --force --progress -- https://github.com/Shubham1106/JenkinsCICD.git +refs/heads/*:refs/remotes/origin/* # timeout=10 > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe rev-parse "origin/main^{commit}" # timeout=10 Checking out Revision 59649ab7937d2128398917fc44cb81a054aedb6d (origin/main) > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe config core.sparsecheckout # timeout=10 > C:\Program Files\Git\bin\git.exe checkout -f 59649ab7937d2128398917fc44cb81a054aedb6d # timeout=10 Commit message: "Update Jenkinsfile" [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // stage [Pipeline] withEnv [Pipeline] { [Pipeline] tool [Pipeline] tool [Pipeline] withEnv [Pipeline] { [Pipeline] stage [Pipeline] { (Declarative: Tool Install) [Pipeline] tool [Pipeline] envVarsForTool [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // stage [Pipeline] withEnv [Pipeline] { [Pipeline] stage [Pipeline] { (Terraform Init) [Pipeline] tool [Pipeline] envVarsForTool [Pipeline] withEnv [Pipeline] { [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // withEnv [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // stage [Pipeline] stage [Pipeline] { (Terraform Validate) Stage "Terraform Validate" skipped due to earlier failure(s) [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // stage [Pipeline] stage [Pipeline] { (Terraform Plan) Stage "Terraform Plan" skipped due to earlier failure(s) [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // stage [Pipeline] stage [Pipeline] { (Waiting for Approval) Stage "Waiting for Approval" skipped due to earlier failure(s) [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // stage [Pipeline] stage [Pipeline] { (Terraform Apply) Stage "Terraform Apply" skipped due to earlier failure(s) [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // stage [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // withEnv [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // withEnv [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // withEnv [Pipeline] } [Pipeline] // node [Pipeline] End of Pipeline Also: org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.actions.ErrorAction$ErrorId: c1ff2cd4-b9d4-47c4-aedb-440ec6cf31d9 java.lang.NoSuchMethodError: No such DSL method 'ansiColor' found among steps [archive, azureKeyVault, bat, build, catchError, checkout, deleteDir, dir, echo, emailext, emailextrecipients, envVarsForTool, error, fileExists, findBuildScans, getContext, git, input, isUnix, junit, library, libraryResource, load, mail, milestone, node, parallel, powershell, properties, publishChecks, pwd, pwsh, readFile, readTrusted, resolveScm, retry, script, setGitHubPullRequestStatus, sh, sleep, stage, stash, step, timeout, timestamps, tm, tool, unarchive, unstable, unstash, validateDeclarativePipeline, waitForBuild, waitUntil, warnError, withAzureKeyvault, withChecks, withContext, withCredentials, withEnv, withGradle, wrap, writeFile, ws] or symbols [GitUsernamePassword, Number, Open, agent, all, allBranchesSame, allOf, allowRunOnStatus, always, ant, antFromApache, antOutcome, antTarget, any, anyOf, apiToken, apiTokenProperty, architecture, archiveArtifacts, artifactManager, asIsGITScm, assembla, authorInChangelog, authorizationMatrix, azureAdAuthorizationMatrix, azureCLI, azureKeyVault, azureServicePrincipal, batchFile, bitbucket, bitbucketServer, booleanParam, branch, branchCreated, branches, brokenBuildSuspects, brokenTestsSuspects, browser, buildButton, buildDiscarder, buildDiscarders, buildRetention, buildSingleRevisionOnly, buildUser, buildingTag, builtInNode, caseInsensitive, caseSensitive, certificate, cgit, changeRequest, changelog, changelogBase, changelogToBranch, changeset, checkoutOption, checkoutToSubdirectory, choice, choiceParam, cleanAfterCheckout, cleanBeforeCheckout, cleanWs, clock, cloneOption, close, command, commentPattern, commit, commitChanged, commitMessagePattern, contributor, created, credentials, cron, crumb, culprits, defaultFolderConfiguration, defaultView, deleted, demand, description, developers, disableConcurrentBuilds, disableRestartFromStage, disableResume, discoverOtherRefs, discoverOtherRefsTrait, downstream, dumb, durabilityHint, email-ext, envVars, envVarsFilter, environment, equals, experimentalFlags, expression, extendedEmailPublisher, file, fileParam, filePath, fingerprint, fingerprints, fisheye, frameOptions, freeStyle, freeStyleJob, fromScm, fromSource, git, gitBranchDiscovery, gitHooks, gitHub, gitHubBranchDiscovery, gitHubBranchHeadAuthority, gitHubEvents, gitHubExcludeArchivedRepositories, gitHubExcludeForkedRepositories, gitHubExcludePrivateRepositories, gitHubExcludePublicRepositories, gitHubForkDiscovery, gitHubIgnoreDraftPullRequestFilter, gitHubPRStatus, gitHubPlugin, gitHubPullRequestDiscovery, gitHubSshCheckout, gitHubTagDiscovery, gitHubTopicsFilter, gitHubTrustContributors, gitHubTrustEveryone, gitHubTrustNobody, gitHubTrustPermissions, gitLab, gitList, gitSCM, gitTagDiscovery, gitTool, gitUsernamePassword, gitWeb, gitblit, github, githubBranches, githubPRAddLabels, githubPRClosePublisher, githubPRComment, githubPRMessage, githubPRRemoveLabels, githubPRStatusPublisher, githubPlugin, githubProjectProperty, githubPullRequests, githubPush, gitiles, gogs, gradle, hashChanged, headRegexFilter, headWildcardFilter, hyperlink, hyperlinkToModels, ignoreOnPush, inbound, inheriting, inheritingGlobal, installSource, isRestartedRun, javadoc, jdk, jdkInstaller, jgit, jgitapache, jnlp, jobBuildDiscarder, jobName, junitTestResultStorage, kiln, label, labels, labelsAdded, labelsExist, labelsNotExist, labelsPatternExists, labelsRemoved, lastDuration, lastFailure, lastGrantedAuthorities, lastStable, lastSuccess, legacy, legacySCM, lfs, list, local, localBranch, localBranchTrait, location, logRotator, loggedInUsersCanDoAnything, mailer, masterBuild, maven, maven3Mojos, mavenErrors, mavenGlobalConfig, mavenMojos, mavenWarnings, message, modernSCM, multiBranchProjectDisplayNaming, multibranch, myView, namedBranchesDifferent, noGITScm, node, nodeProperties, nonInheriting, nonMergeable, none, nonresumable, not, organizationFolder, overrideIndexTriggers, paneStatus, parallelsAlwaysFailFast, parameters, password, pattern, perBuildTag, permanent, phabricator, pipeline, pipelineTriggers, plainText, plugin, pollSCM, preserveStashes, previous, projectNamingStrategy, proxy, pruneStaleBranch, pruneStaleTag, pruneTags, pullRequest, pullRequests, queueItemAuthenticator, quietPeriod, rateLimit, rateLimitBuilds, recipients, redmine, refSpecs, remoteName, requestor, resourceRoot, restriction, restrictions, retainOnlyVariables, rhodeCode, run, runParam, sSHLauncher, schedule, scmGit, scmRetryCount, scriptApproval, scriptApprovalLink, search, security, shell, simpleBuildDiscarder, skipDefaultCheckout, skipStagesAfterUnstable, slave, sourceRegexFilter, sourceWildcardFilter, sparseCheckoutPaths, ssh, sshPublicKey, sshUserPrivateKey, standard, status, statusOnPublisherError, string, stringParam, submodule, submoduleOption, suppressAutomaticTriggering, suppressFolderAutomaticTriggering, swapSpace, tag, tags, teamFoundation, teamSlugFilter, terraform, text, textParam, timestamper, timestamperConfig, timezone, tmpSpace, toolLocation, triggeredBy, unsecured, untrusted, upstream, upstreamDevelopers, userIdentity, userSeed, usernameColonPassword, usernamePassword, viewgit, viewsTabBar, weather, withAnt, zip] or globals [currentBuild, env, params, pipeline, scm] at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.DSL.invokeMethod(DSL.java:219) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.CpsScript.invokeMethod(CpsScript.java:124) at java.base/jdk.internal.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke0(Native Method) at java.base/jdk.internal.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(NativeMethodAccessorImpl.java:77) at java.base/jdk.internal.reflect.DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.java:43) at java.base/java.lang.reflect.Method.invoke(Method.java:568) at org.codehaus.groovy.reflection.CachedMethod.invoke(CachedMethod.java:98) at groovy.lang.MetaMethod.doMethodInvoke(MetaMethod.java:325) at groovy.lang.MetaClassImpl.invokeMethod(MetaClassImpl.java:1225) at groovy.lang.MetaClassImpl.invokeMethod(MetaClassImpl.java:1034) at org.codehaus.groovy.runtime.callsite.PogoMetaClassSite.call(PogoMetaClassSite.java:41) at org.codehaus.groovy.runtime.callsite.CallSiteArray.defaultCall(CallSiteArray.java:47) at org.codehaus.groovy.runtime.callsite.AbstractCallSite.call(AbstractCallSite.java:116) at org.kohsuke.groovy.sandbox.impl.Checker$1.call(Checker.java:180) at org.kohsuke.groovy.sandbox.GroovyInterceptor.onMethodCall(GroovyInterceptor.java:23) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.scriptsecurity.sandbox.groovy.SandboxInterceptor.onMethodCall(SandboxInterceptor.java:163) at org.kohsuke.groovy.sandbox.impl.Checker$1.call(Checker.java:178) at org.kohsuke.groovy.sandbox.impl.Checker.checkedCall(Checker.java:182) at org.kohsuke.groovy.sandbox.impl.Checker.checkedCall(Checker.java:152) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.sandbox.SandboxInvoker.methodCall(SandboxInvoker.java:17) at WorkflowScript.run(WorkflowScript:17) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.pipeline.modeldefinition.ModelInterpreter.delegateAndExecute(ModelInterpreter.groovy:137) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.pipeline.modeldefinition.ModelInterpreter.executeSingleStage(ModelInterpreter.groovy:666) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.pipeline.modeldefinition.ModelInterpreter.catchRequiredContextForNode(ModelInterpreter.groovy:395) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.pipeline.modeldefinition.ModelInterpreter.catchRequiredContextForNode(ModelInterpreter.groovy:393) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.pipeline.modeldefinition.ModelInterpreter.executeSingleStage(ModelInterpreter.groovy:665) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.pipeline.modeldefinition.ModelInterpreter.evaluateStage(ModelInterpreter.groovy:288) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.pipeline.modeldefinition.ModelInterpreter.toolsBlock(ModelInterpreter.groovy:539) at ___cps.transform___(Native Method) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.impl.ContinuationGroup.methodCall(ContinuationGroup.java:90) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.impl.FunctionCallBlock$ContinuationImpl.dispatchOrArg(FunctionCallBlock.java:116) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.impl.FunctionCallBlock$ContinuationImpl.fixArg(FunctionCallBlock.java:85) at jdk.internal.reflect.GeneratedMethodAccessor552.invoke(Unknown Source) at java.base/jdk.internal.reflect.DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.java:43) at java.base/java.lang.reflect.Method.invoke(Method.java:568) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.impl.ContinuationPtr$ContinuationImpl.receive(ContinuationPtr.java:72) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.impl.ClosureBlock.eval(ClosureBlock.java:46) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.Next.step(Next.java:83) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.Continuable$1.call(Continuable.java:152) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.Continuable$1.call(Continuable.java:146) at org.codehaus.groovy.runtime.GroovyCategorySupport$ThreadCategoryInfo.use(GroovyCategorySupport.java:136) at org.codehaus.groovy.runtime.GroovyCategorySupport.use(GroovyCategorySupport.java:275) at com.cloudbees.groovy.cps.Continuable.run0(Continuable.java:146) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.SandboxContinuable.access$001(SandboxContinuable.java:18) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.SandboxContinuable.run0(SandboxContinuable.java:51) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.CpsThread.runNextChunk(CpsThread.java:187) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.CpsThreadGroup.run(CpsThreadGroup.java:420) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.CpsThreadGroup$2.call(CpsThreadGroup.java:330) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.CpsThreadGroup$2.call(CpsThreadGroup.java:294) at org.jenkinsci.plugins.workflow.cps.CpsVmExecutorService$2.call(CpsVmExecutorService.java:67) at java.base/java.util.concurrent.FutureTask.run(FutureTask.java:264) at hudson.remoting.SingleLaneExecutorService$1.run(SingleLaneExecutorService.java:139) at jenkins.util.ContextResettingExecutorService$1.run(ContextResettingExecutorService.java:28) at jenkins.security.ImpersonatingExecutorService$1.run(ImpersonatingExecutorService.java:68) at jenkins.util.ErrorLoggingExecutorService.lambda$wrap$0(ErrorLoggingExecutorService.java:51) at java.base/java.util.concurrent.Executors$RunnableAdapter.call(Executors.java:539) at java.base/java.util.concurrent.FutureTask.run(FutureTask.java:264) at java.base/java.util.concurrent.ThreadPoolExecutor.runWorker(ThreadPoolExecutor.java:1136) at java.base/java.util.concurrent.ThreadPoolExecutor$Worker.run(ThreadPoolExecutor.java:635) at java.base/java.lang.Thread.run(Thread.java:833) Finished: FAILURE 

Below is the Jenkinsfile content

pipeline{ agent any tools { "org.jenkinsci.plugins.terraform.TerraformInstallation" "terraform" } environment { TF_HOME = tool('terraform') TF_IN_AUTOMATION = "true" PATH = "$TF_HOME:$PATH" } stages { stage('Terraform Init'){ steps { ansiColor('xterm') { withCredentials([azureServicePrincipal( credentialsId: 'Jenkins', subscriptionIdVariable: 'ARM_SUBSCRIPTION_ID', clientIdVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_ID', clientSecretVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_SECRET', tenantIdVariable: 'ARM_TENANT_ID' ), string(credentialsId: 'access_key', variable: 'ARM_ACCESS_KEY')]) { sh """ echo "Initialising Terraform" terraform init -backend-config="access_key=$ARM_ACCESS_KEY" """ } } } } stage('Terraform Validate'){ steps { ansiColor('xterm') { withCredentials([azureServicePrincipal( credentialsId: 'Jenkins', subscriptionIdVariable: 'ARM_SUBSCRIPTION_ID', clientIdVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_ID', clientSecretVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_SECRET', tenantIdVariable: 'ARM_TENANT_ID' ), string(credentialsId: 'access_key', variable: 'ARM_ACCESS_KEY')]) { sh """ terraform validate """ } } } } stage('Terraform Plan'){ steps { ansiColor('xterm') { withCredentials([azureServicePrincipal( credentialsId: 'Jenkins', subscriptionIdVariable: 'ARM_SUBSCRIPTION_ID', clientIdVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_ID', clientSecretVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_SECRET', tenantIdVariable: 'ARM_TENANT_ID' ), string(credentialsId: 'access_key', variable: 'ARM_ACCESS_KEY')]) { sh """ echo "Creating Terraform Plan" terraform plan -var "client_id=$ARM_CLIENT_ID" -var "client_secret=$ARM_CLIENT_SECRET" -var "subscription_id=$ARM_SUBSCRIPTION_ID" -var "tenant_id=$ARM_TENANT_ID" """ } } } } stage('Waiting for Approval'){ steps { timeout(time: 10, unit: 'MINUTES') { input (message: "Deploy the infrastructure?") } } } stage('Terraform Apply'){ steps { ansiColor('xterm') { withCredentials([azureServicePrincipal( credentialsId: 'Jenkins', subscriptionIdVariable: 'ARM_SUBSCRIPTION_ID', clientIdVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_ID', clientSecretVariable: 'ARM_CLIENT_SECRET', tenantIdVariable: 'ARM_TENANT_ID' ), string(credentialsId: 'access_key', variable: 'ARM_ACCESS_KEY')]) { sh """ echo "Applying the plan" terraform apply -auto-approve -var "client_id=$ARM_CLIENT_ID" -var "client_secret=$ARM_CLIENT_SECRET" -var "subscription_id=$ARM_SUBSCRIPTION_ID" -var "tenant_id=$ARM_TENANT_ID" """ } } } } } } 

Thanks.

​
Hi everyone! This is a complete English translation of the Aniara sequel book by Harry Martinson called Doriderna that was put together after the author died. This translation was put together using various translation programs that can be found online, so I can't guarantee that it is a perfect translation, but it's better than nothing. I will also post the original in Swedish so you can improve the translation or look up words etc. if you want. Hope you enjoy!
I would also like to let everyone know that I am also working on my own Aniara fan fiction short story that I call "The Lost Voices of Aniara". This story tells about the events aboard the Aniara from the view point of another passenger and attempts to add more details to the story. It should be ready in the next week or two.
​
HARRY MARTINSON
The Dorides (Doriderna)
Remaining poems and prose pieces in selection and with preface by Tord Hall Albert Bonniers Förlag
​
PREFACE
For reasons I will not go into here, Harry Martinson did not publish any new work in the last years of his life. There is therefore a very large literary legacy, the publication of which began in the fall of 1978 with "Längs ekots stigar" (Along the paths of the echo), published by Georg Svensson. This collection contains only a few purely scientific poems - the emphasis is on nature poetry. The selection was made from unpublished material - which had nevertheless reached the proof stage - in three previous collections.
It remains to address other lines of thought in Harry Martinson's work: the ideas in Aniara, which in various forms occupied his imagination until the end. To follow the continuation of this great theme - at least in part - is what I am trying to do in this second selection from the surviving archive.
​
The 103 songs in Aniara were part of a larger set of poems, and the author then worked for several years on a sequel, to be called 'The Dorids', the people of the tribe of Doris. Around 1959 there were about 80 songs - most of them in more or less completed drafts. The dominant figure in the Dorids would not be Isagel or the Mimarobe, but Nobia, the Samaritan from the tundra planet and deportation site of Mars. Nobia would be a norna (fate goddess), though not a cruel goddess of fate, but a norna who weaves goodness into the fabric of the world.
But the whole project remained a large-scale endeavor. The reasons were many: illness, world events, which seemed to be moving towards a fulfillment of the prophecies in Aniara, and which gave him an increasingly dark view of life: he told me that "Aniara has become a neurosis" ... I feel like Mima being blown apart'. But the decisive reason was surely his demand for absolute freedom in his creativity. He did not want to be confined, and the result was, as he himself said, 'I have stepped out of Aniara'.
The fact that Harry Martinson stepped out of Aniara, and thus also out of the Dorides, does not at all mean that he left the motifs or ideas found there, which cover the scientific field from atoms to stars. Rather, it means that he was able to write without direct connection to the characters of Aniara and the Dorides in particular.
I have therefore considered it justified to call this entire collection the Dorides, even though the prose pieces and several poems do not have a clearly visible connection with such a title.
In order to comment briefly on the selection, I would like to say a few words about Harry Martinson's attitude towards modern science (it is my intention to return to this subject in more detail).
There are two main lines. One is deterministic, and has its roots in classical physics, founded by Newton, which dominated until the end of the 19th century. It has a philosophical form in the law of causation, which means that if you know enough facts about a certain course of events in the present and in the past, you can precisely specify the course of events in the future. Examples of such events in the 'big world' - the macrocosm - are solar and lunar eclipses.
But in the world of atoms - the microcosm - this determinism does not apply. Heisenberg demonstrated this through his uncertainty relation, also known as the indeterminacy principle. In the atoms, individual events are indeterminate, we cannot discern any causality - there is randomness. But chance can be mastered by the methods of statistics, and we must content ourselves with a "statistical causality", which describes the course of events in the atom with the highest possible degree of probability.
It is this second, indeterministic line that has long been followed by most physicists. But there is one major exception, and that is Einstein. At the 1927 meeting of physicists in Brussels, for example, he asked Bohr, Heisenberg and others with mild irony whether they really believed that God plays dice - "ob der liebe Gott würfelt". Einstein was convinced that the universe follows an ordering principle, a geometric structure, which can be called a world soul. This is a pantheistic view that is reminiscent of Spinoza.
Similar ideas are already present in Aniara, but in this selection the picture has become more sharply defined. Harry Martinson does not believe that chance plays a decisive role in the course of the world, as is clear from several poems and prose pieces. He believes more in Einstein than in dozens of other Nobel Prize winners. Apart from these authorities, he follows his intuition.
His approach to religion has often been quoted: he chooses the Riddler over the God. This belief is reflected in 'The Riddle'. In 'Poems on Light and Darkness', published in 1971, Harry Martinson, with 'The Inner Light' and 'The Bird in the Phoenix Bell', presents the events inside the atom itself. These poems show that - although 'Aniara' and 'The Dorides' are more about stars than atoms - he never lost his interest in the microcosm. In this selection, it is the atoms that are more interesting than the stars.
The bard enters the atom. He describes the course of events in a world which is completely beyond our senses and which, despite the enormous aids of science, we will probably never be able to understand exactly. The story itself probably comes from Gamow's book "Mr. Tompkins Explores the Atom". Published in Swedish translation in 1946, it is, along with "Mr. Tompkins in Wonderland" (also 1946), the versatile Gamow's best popular science books. Harry Martinson rated them highly.
The two poems 'Submerged as in a dream but still awake' and 'Actually, the comprehensibility was slight' depict a journey of thought into the atom, and the same motif recurs in several other places.
The poem "A Cosmic Thickness Lying Boundlessly Spread" poetically depicts a world development related to the hypothesis of the "stationary universe" put forward by Hoyle and others, and to Klein-Alfvén's "symmetrical cosmology". For several reasons - mainly aesthetic - Harry Martinson did not like the theory of 'the big bang', which was celebrated by most scientists. His poem should have been written quite a long time ago, and perhaps he would have changed his mind if he had been given the opportunity to understand what the "cosmic background radiation" - with a temperature of about 3 degrees above absolute zero - means for the credibility of "The big bang". It took natural scientists some time to become convinced that this radiation can best be interpreted as a fading glow after an unimaginable cosmic explosion some 18 billion years ago.
This selection also contains several pieces of prose, which in general do not need any comment. But I would like to mention a few. For "The Figuration Patterns of the Goddancer's Juggling Program", in three sections, there is a drawing by Harry Martinson, reproduced on the cover of this collection. The spread comes from Hindu philosophy: we see 'Siwa's juggling dance before Brama'. The dominant curves are so-called lemniscates, which were already known to the ancient Greeks. The lemniscate looks like an eight and is the mathematical symbol for infinity. It is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the product of its distances to two given points is constant. In the center of the drawing there are several small curves. They are ellipses, and an ellipse - also first studied by the Greeks - is defined as the trajectory of a point under the condition that the sum of its distances to two given points is constant. The result is a geometric pattern, similar to a flower, which at the same time provides a poetic image of the complex interplay of forces in the atom with outward and inward energy impulses The juggler finds it increasingly difficult to work with his ball-particles as he progresses through the periodic table of the elements. In the end, he "dances the spectral theme in the dance of the Phoenix" - a symbol of the indestructibility of both energy and poetry, and a recurring motif in Martinson's poetry.
"Delsaga om tidens ariadnetråd" (Part of the saga of the Ariadne thread of time) is almost a fantasy about four-dimensional space, where you have to be careful not to get on the wrong track. The selection of prose pieces ends with "Some fairies dancing in the summer night near a quiet lake". It is a cheerful tale where the author combines a love of the Swedish summer with a love of light.
​
I made this selection at the direct request of Harry. He even said several times that I should have all his scientific poems and prose pieces. But I think I judged this offer correctly when I saw it as an expression of his great generosity towards his friends. I always replied that he himself should complete and select what was to be published. But in his last years he did not want to publish anything. I therefore promised to make a selection if he did not change his mind.
​
He did not, and this collection is the result.
Finally, I would like to thank Ingrid Martinson and Georg Svensson for the understanding and assistance they have given me in bringing this selection to fruition.
​
Tord Hall
​
​
The Dorides (Doriderna)
The book you hold was written in Mima's hall.
Now, on a secret wavelength, it is sent home to you, my friend, who for some years inhabits a spherical beach called the Valley of Doris.
In other words, it was written so close to your own being that nothing could be closer to you than those described here. You are one of them.
​
Over the graves, the indifferent wind spreads
the whisper of the immortal gods
that no loss is foreseen in the grand scheme of things.
But what do the gods - those wasteful billionaires of the heavens - know about the beautiful and wonderful Doris?
how she was worth saving forever
and that whoever loved her
can never be comforted by the gods' continued waste.
About her a bird sings now alone in the tree of the grave. Of her as she was, the glorious one, if no other, the Dorides' thrush sings.
​
The window was full of stars,
The Leonids' swarm of stars came, then you know the time.
Autumn was gone, its yellowing burnt.
The lookout tower, closed on the wooded mountains.
I stood as a child of a time that saw the stars detach from the roofs towards a room where novas frightened a more distant valley, I found other myths than those I was used to picking hurled at me from the space of the Leonids.
I stood in the cathedral of fear of dreams.
The great copper woman who lay there with her back soldered to the lid of the sarcophagus drove horror into me, cast my foot with lead.
That the copper woman knew who I was, I immediately sensed as a deadly weight, and that I had been summoned here by herself, by the queen of copper, of that I was certain.
In empty benches sat forgotten years, from the emptiness of the auditorium the organ pipes shone like stalactites in the vault of a cave and there was nothing, no light, no hint that gathered my crumbling courage.
For everything was fulfilled as it was written in stone once when the water abandoned the green and it was said that man will go away and become the dead slave of the dead dust.
And as I stood there gripped, filled with horror
for this judgment and epitaph
which was predetermined and rehearsed
in the mute trumpet of the seraphim of the stones,
bells fell suddenly from the towers to the earth that rocked with an ore-broken thunder, and the copper woman rose, a scream of remembrance drawn from afar to her lips as she drew me in close to her copper body in terrified death.
He woke up. There was light. It was day.
And the Samaritan Nobia sat silent, but still heard the echo of the screams his dreams had squeezed out of his fear.
She searched for words simple enough for a stranger to grasp, but not so simple as to drive away his trust, hardly won yet.
In simple action she finally found them.
And she stood up and smiled with milk
From the moors of Gondrin to the mouth of this fugitive.
​
​
It is no exaggeration to say that space gave us long winter evenings rolled into one - the one that lasts. Our leisure time finally became a grim question with ice in our eyes and a frozen flame.
It became necessary to tell stories from reality - as it can be taken. I chose to tell about King Basii, who, supported by Chefone, forcibly turned himself into a god and magician in a celestial drama.
The Goldonder King felt like God and determined to live up to the gods he built himself a city in the sky.
It was a global world city of goldonders assembled into a kind of hive heaven.
But Basil's space-city, though it contained twelve million men in his service, was not enough for him; he had another built, and the greatest city in the world was soon in space. That city was a marvel to behold: a mighty golden dome, surrounded by three bionomically serving drabants, one of which was called the Vegetable City, one the Fish Drabant, and the third the Sting.
​
The names reveal their role and purpose.
So Basii sits in his heavenly land. The aquarium dragon orbits faithfully and Stings follows it with fattened animals and the vegetable moon amounts to the redwood.
The golden dome was the city of retreat for all climbers and celestial rebels, for gamma was a poison to all alike and all poor and rich alike had to choose between death and escape.
So many preferred the city of Basil.
But although he rules over twelve million
inhabitants of the great city of space, he is still very rarely happy.
And although the dragons in a faithful circle
raise animals and grow fish and wheat
Basil's only pleasure is when he gets
with Vulvis, the royal slave, to bathe in Lethe.
But all the deliciously good virginity
that can be enjoyed in Basil's harem
is in its nakedness a skin of fear.
of frightened dissimulation. And his love story
...is but a tale to be seen from the outside..,
and all his lust a forced voluptuousness.
​
Thus in The Night of Aniara I draw a little picture that everyone can understand from the rich treasure of reality.
And every time I make an arabesque in the hall of Mima about this space grotesque that Basil's space city can probably be said to be, I can for an hour or so make people sigh: the best is here anyway.
From Basil's false heaven we preserve. No, I'd rather travel with Aniara.
But soon the alarm goes off. The bells proclaim that the images of the fairy tale are overtaken by visions here that distress ignites.
And quickly to the halls I return.
​
The Goldonder's garden bubbled with glamour. A party was being held there and Chefone was there. He showed us a picture of the smith of happiness: the goldonder king Basii, a portrait jubilantly taken on the day the fifteen thousandth goldonder lay in the field ready for the wave of endlessness.
Then we were each seized by thoughtfulness and went to our own in solitude.
For in every ship of this number there was a Mima locked up in its cage.
The Rapid criminal was much loved and could operate as he pleased under the protection of the admiration he aroused. He always appeared at great speeds and abducted women whom he brought to Chefone in light blue rapid rockets.
Of course it was criminal, the people of the valley thought, but the charm was so close to the deed that the rampart was breached by sheer admiration and open worship soon followed the advice of restraint at the murder pedal.
​
Tucked away in a corner of our gondola, I pretend to smile at some rough fellows who spend their evenings with mockery and violence, with a devilish flutter as their sole aim.
They look at me and find me mortified,
- The clear approval is what they expect...
and I'm close to being squeezed badly
every time they jokingly glance at my grave door.
The brute is approaching, his dull face with many a foolish whim weighing on his mind.
And many a scowl missed by pigs from the worst corners of the soul he throws at me.
And when, full of fear, I strike with depleted strength in the dull face, the troll is only amused by my blow and raises his eyebrow with interest.
Then I flee between the troll's legs and out the other side of the danger of death.
How this happened can only be fully explained by the light of the gopher and the fourth tensor theory.
​
Here came the sober, composed and sober man who always kept his soul in trim and stuck to the dry, honest maxims of life.
Now he went into the fire with his imagination.
His cool reason was completely burned His sober composure was fried in seconds when the photo turbo in Xinombra exaggerated the cold matter.
And yet I can't help but admire the man as he made his way to the office where he had been employed for many years
and where, despite offers to flee to the tundra, he provided punch cards for thousands who broke up every day.
There died a man who never raised his voice, who always remained true to his calm tone, the martyr of calm composure who was burned when the cruel fires of excess were lit.
​
One is often chilled to the rock crystal by everything one hears before the ear falls like gray-white ash into the cremation hall.
And the girl from Rind who sees nothing is often heard to ask beyond the eye: how is the world of such torment visible? What is to be seen in this madness, where eeriness against eeriness is heard to answer?
Cultivating insight seemed futile
and many fell away from the faithful crowd.
and its program which was to see through
so that with the transparency of evil
as lens and instrument
try to find new signs
and new ways for the land of Gond.
Most people grew tired and withdrew from the room of the Truth Service, and Nobia sat for long periods almost alone, trying to hold on to her looms, always tormented
by the blood moisture of evil memories, the echoes of horror
surrounded her days
and made the Mara a bedfellow
who tore the fabric of the noman
and raped Nobia's dream
and the mood of life over the moors of Gondria.
It is as important to us to have friends
in the houses of distant worlds as at home by
the familiar road of the green earth.
You are reflected in endless eyes, watched by immense spectators.
They never interfere, but they watch the sewing and the mining,
the nurse and doctor on the rounds and the weapons in the shamelessly cruel wars.
Your own position under their eyes may be likened to the position you take with one whom you do not wish to grieve, but to share joy and to please.
So spoke the old astronomer, and then laid his head down to rest.
And he went smiling to the eternity that had been waiting by his side all his life.
His forehead shone with its ideas, even in the dead of death in the years of space.
He was among those who know the fairies of everything, those who get to comb Berenice's hair.
​
But for the longest time I still want to believe that this is the torment of an evil dream and the ship Aniara a phantom from which I will wake up in the Valley of Doris.
Perhaps everything is a nightmare and I want to wait with poison and a knife. They say there are dreams of a kind that seem as long as a man's life.
Out of the dust you were born, from its gifts you were supported.
You did not manage the gift, many a meadow you made desolate.
What is beyond this sea is called Going down deep among riddles too great to be found in a grave.
Faith can never cover more than what you see in spirit.
​
All the other things are too much to bear.
Do you hear the sound of the rescue team calling from an emergency station that is one of a thousand others, regardless of faith?
Now guess where the road leads and what Paradise is.
One of a thousand rescue stations scattered along the coast here.
Now I want to sing to my ear and ask it to listen to a voice that descends not to destroy the language I have collected for comfort. For the comfort of life and death, I whisper the price of sensitivity every time the sinful flow of language storms the breeze of the spirit.
​
One night Heba lay awake in the city of Aniara and heard the painter's joyful painting.
The skilled varnisher was varnishing the years that would one day end on a stainless steel stretcher.
And suddenly from Heba there was a shout against the smooth roof.
The skilled varnishers know their business well.
Too hard to become joy, too happy to become sorrow. The painters paint everything in Aniara's castle.
​
We know that we have been left out of the higher insight of the ocean of mystery and that we lack the tools to reach the depths of clarity that Mima once gave. But since Mima's death, the average of what we achieve of truth is not very high average is what is required if the choice of new paths is to be avoided.
A small number reach the values that should be the average to reach.
The others are satisfied with the flow of thought,
the rattle with which time is made to pass.
A daughter of my mother, called Tovi, was born in the night of space. Alas, dear ones, where can the crowd's demand for sensation and wonder lead us?
First came, as it should be, the blissfully sweet and indescribably pure birth, when the mimicry lay naked, uncovered and panting in the golden bed of the formula.
To her camp now came the mimicry and winged it
the naked one, as when the butterfly flies the honey chalice of its flower, in Dori's meadows. The description is not given (much to my regret) because there is always the possibility of a wave of miracles taking place in secret, to the great disappointment of many who wish to see how the mimagyne makes love, and from what angle the picture of the goddess's love life should be taken in order to really reach the audience.
Can it not be enough that Tovi gave birth to an allegorical child whom Isagel happily suckled at her breast and practiced miracles and consolation You may think so yourself, but others think otherwise.
For not even a mimagyn can defend the fruit of her womb against the human hyena who demands a clear answer on every point of what precedes it all: the prelude to sowing,
with the insides of the thighs well described in a clear image that gives the "public" a feeling that it was in the bed.
​
Yes, it has happened that I have sometimes asked myself (in private silence, of course) whether the smooth ice of superficiality does not have enough joy, and that the great swallows in these spaces are only terrible wakes which, compared to the agile princess and heartlessly threatening with superior power, will in the end become the cold room of beauty.
So small a strip bears, the other breaks, and all the incomparably large gapes with the same dark death which, unchanging with cold upon cold, only imitates itself.
To raise one's hand then with a light-year pound and demonstrate the fugue of eternity on terrible organs, while the girl in the icy distance dances, hardly greater to see than a fly flown away towards the light, it is to chill with the great weapon as when the superpower with the powers the element hides coldly makes its rows in the land of Gond against unsuspecting cities and, although itself dismissing all talk of sin punishment and trial, nevertheless treats the human with such terrible flame that this terrible torrent of loose gamma released by those who do not mean sin punishment nevertheless cruelly destroys both Yaal and Gena and melts down to ashes the wonder Heba
With the same fire they turned on Chebeba.
​
Posterity does not understand you so easily.
It judges according to the image of posterity
and counts up the time you lived in
as rows of negligence, as offenses
against the spirit of foresight, the duties of thought.
To this it adds the work of suffering
and piles up, as blind as a judge
as you were blind as a criminal, case by case.
Can those who have killed the foundations of joy and destroyed the great city of joy have the right to the joys of life?
Does Cain have the right to be happy?
Can those who strangled the joys of Xinombra and burned the valley of paradise have the right to heights of heaven other than Aniara's daily agony?
I ask but never get an answer. I have to arrange for pastimes
for the hordes of Aniara and manage its entertainment.
​
A wave of newly awakened hatred swept through the mountains where Nobia lived in deep mines and ghostly white lights illuminated every thread of life in the fabrics she wove.
She had sought and found the thread of life - a discovery of how healing rays are empowered by the inner council of things and fused with the heart of the atom.
And while hatred swelled around the mountains
and wounds screamed in the valley of time.
she wove day and night until the color of victory
and the skin of life rose in the hall of death.
Of her beauty little can be said. It was lost in a wave of radiation but the clear purity of the soul could be weighed; in healed wounds we saw her reflection.
​
Then I will throw you out of your chair. I will break your armchair view, because it is false and holds a convulsive security in a time that has slipped out of its rooms, but also the other way around: that it becomes a view without deep insight.
From this world, I shall send you happiness today to the kingdom of love, to the evil shore where the Samaritan Nobia and others spread works of love from country to country.
Figuring out the ways of evil and tracking down all the poison in the city of hate was futile, for hate stood there with heavy blocks united row by row.
Within its walls there was life and movement in the birthing centers and squares where human beings were conceived and human beings were born and human life in the human gap was destroyed. It was best to pretend that this city of self-righteous evil existed as nothing more than a devilish childhood that would mature, grow tired of itself.
We resolved to keep on sending saints there for the longest time.
from the saints' camps as long as the funds lasted
and as far as the need still aroused the heart.
This plan was tried for nine years, during which the Rind camp of saints bled to death: an act of self-sacrifice based on faith in the powers of good. But the heavy wall of hate stood just as hard, and the fatigue of leadership followed the act of hate; only too great was the throne of victory we had.
A single city consumed the power which we had thought sufficient for the transformation of the world.
​
On a rare occasion, the happiness of being free from desire also came.
Then the emptiness suddenly became populated by a kind of spiritualized mystery.
We walked the spirit's path of happiness along the beach, exchanging thoughts, making fortune cards.
It was evening and sunset in the sea.
Night fell, but the land of thought stood firm.
He woke up. She said: guess where.
I can't, he said. How did you get here? The same way you did: up the gravel path and then straight to the left among the cypresses. There was a dewy path the moonlight itself went there with light steps which I tried to imitate.
And when everything was past and the path was over
I managed to become a clear crystal and find you, my friend, on this path.
It is so transparently wonderful here.
We no longer exist. All that was is over.
Neither god nor devil here reaches us anymore and the end is the cruel parody of life.
​
Where is the plain text?
This is what I'm looking for.
The one that fits but still gives song.
After thanking God that he was a wasp and not something else, he continued between the leafy branches and stung the farmer.
Laid out by spiritual mobs, the truth becomes worse than the lie. When the mob washes the barley, it is never clean.
The rabble always wash in the dunghill from the Augean stables.
​
​
Matema's camel bells ring in the deserts of speech where the caravans of unfinished quarrels
never reach their oasis, only become more camels.
Immersed as in a dream but still awake, I found myself changed and so naked that no dream has words for what it was like when, transformed by the stone, I cut down towards the inner realms and while this was happening I became smaller, smaller and even more stripped of layers and layers of time and space as I sank further and further into the stone, deeper and deeper into things.
Who undressed me, wore me down so much that no conceivable smallness so small on this earth can be imagined unless one is long since beyond what every comprehensible thought wants to deny.
And yet I was being stripped and reduced still further in no direction.
So sunk, unceasingly sunk in
towards even more breathtaking reduction
I retained in my dream a way of seeing
and understand that I was traveling into
to the dimensions, the innermost
who with their interior work with their interior
and whose interiors compose the world.
They scare children with darkness, criminals with punishment and sinners with realms beyond death where the vengeful desire to torment has transported its arsenal of tormenting images.
But sorrow follows us every day, and joy follows us every day.
We ourselves are the sorrow, we are also the joy, everything human is rooted in humanity, and no human being can escape humanity, not her hatred and her self-degradation, nor the joy she spreads, nor the love she forms.
There is a third land that is not death and not life, but the reality that pervades all realities, and spins the very thread of the fabric from which dreams are woven. Yes, I had come to the rooms where these threads are spun. When I arrived, I stepped out and saw no longer surprised the smallest fairy, who herself was not at all surprised to welcome me to her inner land.
And although we were both unimaginably smaller than two grains of traveling dust on a suit on earth, we thought we were big here in this smallest room to which I have now come and which nevertheless encloses with its vault a separate world of realities formed.
On the contrary, I cannot describe what I saw of strange things, but that will follow when the habit of telling stories has been practiced for other habits than what life offers,
and other things than those called death.
For though beyond all I have known
this was not death
and though within all I have known
this was not life.
​
Actually, the comprehensibility was slight, as when multiples arranged in layers, and layered in the directions of space, make the fabric of the dream omnidirectional structural and become a fabric consisting of paths where the thread is only thought of as a path as a sign that here the shuttle has gone, but where is the thread? The thread is the path. I saw how the gnome was in a quandary as to which of two different possibilities to give clarity.
Then came formulas of such an elusive nature that the gnome was again gripped by the anxiety
which arises when the explanation is attempted but little response is felt by the pupil.
And with a look that shone as if with sorrow, he signaled a break in the dilemma. And with a formula more magical than comprehensible, we left the atom.
We expanded to other contexts and sat on a leaf next to a bee eagerly searching for honey in a meadow.
​
The Dance
Around the great star of the day we shall orbit the years we have been given to live, and our family for a few thousand centuries, perhaps more, perhaps less, no one knows.
But the time that we are orbiting is so small compared to that of the suns where they wander around in orbits in the galaxy our family named the Milky Way, luminous to behold.
What can our eyes see, our hearts cry out at the thought of atoms going around in the same way with waves and particles.
Some have called this the dance of the gods - it is always being danced by everything in the universe.
All indications are that among the arts of the muses
the art of dance is the first and the last,
and we are in it, dancing out
our role in the dance, it is already being danced
in other worlds separate from our time,
in other dance theaters,
yet one thing is clear
that we are dancing our turns.
Our role in it
is ours and no one else's.
Our own role in the dance art of all worlds.
​
Economic overview
Our earth wanders alive alone, around the sun our dear parent.
As far as the giant tubes reach no living neighbor to see.
Desolate and empty on the one who received the name of the god of war, burning hot and desolate on the one who received the name of the goddess of love.
Jupiter, planet of Zeus
ice-clad to two hundred times the height of the Himalayas.
The others are death's door.
Beyond that, light years to the next planetary village.
So each sun has only one living person, and that one is a leased farm, indefinitely and to an unreliable and dangerous race.
​
Here is a world of light distributed in the mystery of things.
Here is the salvaged light in the innumerable rooms of the stone.
Wands point with poles directed to their rooms inside mountains and stones, spinning mystery.
Deep in her fairy tale, she lives for the sake of the tale.
the norn who has learned to spin the yarn from the wool of the riddles.
​
The spirit of Ideema from space in endless lines gathered the seeds into the durable wood of the suns.
From far beyond time the hydrogen came in modest garb and built for its God the ingenious nests of the atoms.
Come, let us nurture the foundation of our life. The green sphere we have been given to live on in the universe's lottery system.
When the next lucky draw can get rid of the Milky Way's big tombola we do not know and can never reach.
But we do know one thing for sure: the next draw will not include us.
​
A stranger called chance shuffles the cards and deals them to the local players.
Every single poker face keeps a straight face.
There are plenty of goldfish in the tureen here.
According to the law, the silent coincidence itself is the last to raise its hand, with ice in its stomach.
Soon jaws of granite are chewing the cigar.
Where is the bundle of happiness among the starlings?
That question is answered when chance wins.
Then the shot goes off, chance's life disappears. His house of cards collapses, but soon everyone at the counter thinks it was a nice fish, that no one won, that chance herself was told by Smith and Wesson what chance was.
by Smith and Wesson what chance should do.
( translation to be continued )

​
https://preview.redd.it/09pej4x90r2b1.jpg?width=334&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ea6be7354cd46428d9dbb502e63846074ee58c9c
"It's Conan The Barbarian meets The Three Stooges meets Dolemite with more lo-fi bloodshed, pop-art visuals, and bizarro dubbing than the boundaries of reality can handle." - American Genre Film Archive
Originally Turkish, but overdubbed so that all the crazy martial arts can better be understood. The plot is still lost in translation, but, who cares, when Lionman is out kicking butt and taking names? :D
WHAT: The Sword and the Claw
WHEN: June 1 @ 5:30pm
WHERE: 120 Metcalfe st (Ottawa Public Library, Main Branch Auditorium)
COST: FREE
*******************************************************************************
OBMN on Meetup: https://www.meetup.com/badmovienights/
OBMN on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/OttawaBadMovieNights
OBMN on Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/obmntv
OBMN on Dlive: https://dlive.tv/ottawabadmovienights
OBMN on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ottawabadmovienights/
OBMN on Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/useOttawaBadMovieNights
OBMN on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5CBxqPHqk4HEMlYJZL8y-Q
OBMN on Vimeo: https://vimeo.com/532398655
OBMN on TikTok: ROFL
OBMN on Trovo: RIP

We have a 19 month old girl. She is fiercely independent and won’t (willingly) stay in her high chair a minute longer than she has to. As such, my husband and I have actually never taken her out to eat at a restaurant. Heck, when we do takeout, we have it after she goes to bed because she eats her dinner in 5 minutes and then is screaming to get out of her chair.
It has honestly never even caused us an issue with plans. She goes to bed at 6:30-7 so when we do date night or go to a social dinner kind of thing, the babysitter arrives at bedtime and we are out. We kind of just thought we would bring her down the road when she can sit still longer, especially with how much it costs to eat out. We do take her in public a LOT, so it’s not like we just avoid taking her in public at all. When we go out, we work on listening, being safe, etc. Grocery shopping, mall, library, etc., many different places every weekend. We don’t let her run off and once she starts throwing a tantrum, we give one warning and then we pick her up and just leave immediately.
She has never gotten better about screaming in her high chair at home so I don’t know that there would be any point trying to get her “used to” a restaurant.
Just wondering what everyone’s thoughts/experiences have been with their own children.