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vprprajakta · 2 years

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Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market Global Opportunity Analysis and Industry Forecast 2027

Market Overview

Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market size is expected to grow USD 7.64 billion in 2027 at a CAGR of 25.0% in forecast period.

Mechanical technology process mechanization is the use of another age of programming and advances. These join the new and propelling limits and abilities of man-made reasoning and AI to create more brilliant robots.

These robots are as of now helping numerous ventures including the car and clinical enterprises. Robot Process Automation (RPA) is different in light of the fact that it permits representatives to make existing programming projects and robots 'more astute.' The workers achieve this by making and programming particular PC projects and robots to play out specific errands. These are frequently specific and incorporate working with information, handling fundamental monetary exchanges, and 'conversing with' different computerized frameworks.

Not every person who contracted Covid-19 infection endured consistently. Many individuals had no side effects; hence, they were uninformed that they had the infection. This made transmission more straightforward. Be that as it may, a little minority (15%) of individuals who got the infection required to have been hospitalized because of different respiratory issues. Of those individuals, 1% wound up kicking the bucket from the infection.

What exacerbated the situation was the way that individuals who got COVID-19 and recuperated could get the infection once more. This concerned numerous states all over the planet. They on the whole pronounced it a 'public worldwide crisis.' These states answered by founding brief isolations and endless lockdowns.

This adversely affected the RPA market since it made it harder for makers of these product items and innovations to source the essential unrefined substances. This constrained the makers to pass on the higher assembling and creation expenses for the end buyer as greater costs.

Key Players

Automation Anywhere (U.S.), Blue Prism (U.K.), Celaton Ltd (U.K.), Ipsoft (U.S.), Nice Systems Ltd. (Israel), Pegasystems (U.S.), Redwood Software (U.S.), Uipath (Romania), Verint (U.S.), Xerox Corporation (U.S.)

Get More Professional and Technical Industry Insights @ https://valuepropresearch.com/report/robotic-process-automation-rpa-market-1136/

Market Dynamics

Drivers

The fundamental drivers of development in the RPA business are the drug and medical services ventures. Notwithstanding, the enterprises that have the most elevated Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market offer are the banking and monetary administrations businesses.

Potential open doors

New open doors are arising as different key ventures all over the planet embrace RPA. This is empowering RPA makers to participate in R&D. These makers are gradually presenting another age of items to advertise. These are 'more astute and more effective. Accordingly, they empower more prominent efficiency among laborers.

Limitations

The significant expense of RPA is a main consideration that is controlling development in this industry. Nonetheless, the presentation of another age of items utilizing new RPA advances vows to change this.

Challenges

One of the primary difficulties confronting the RPA market is that it can conflict with the customary IT division. IT should know that a business is utilizing RPA items or innovations, if not, it may not back up indispensable information and data that this produce. Another significant test is indistinct assumptions. The board and other key partners are not generally clear about how RPA will help both their organizations' efficiency and their workers' efficiency.

Combined development examination

The in general CAGR of the Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market is supposed to be 29% for the rest of 2023. The market is supposed to be worth US$2, Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market million toward the finish of this time.

Innovation investigation

The up-and-coming age of RPA items is better ready to help medical organizations. The Discovery Bot is the brainchild of the American RPA monster Automation Anywhere. It very well may be incorporated into an organization's current savvy computerization stage. From that point it can record workers' activities, report business processes, dissect changes in medical care cycles to decide how mechanization would make them more proficient, and create robotization plans for these cycles.

Portion examination

By type

The Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market is portioned by type in light of the devices utilized for every industry. As it turns out, these devices assist the organizations that utilization them with obtaining higher pieces of the pie in their separate businesses.

By activity

The tasks class can be additionally isolated into rule-based activities and information-based activities. The last class is helpful for the associations that utilization these items and innovations since it permits strategies and stockroom organizations to use sound judgment that will smooth out business activities, make them more proficient and useful, and make the whole association more beneficial.

Chiefs can now involve half and half strategies to screen coordinated factors activities concerning ideal efficiency.

Provincial examination

The principal districts that the Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market relates to are the Asia-Pacific locale, the North American area, the European Union, and the remainder of the world area. The Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market offer is the best in the North American district. This is on the grounds that home to many organizations have put resources into the innovative work expected to make the up-and-coming age of mechanically progressed and profoundly refined advanced mechanics items.

The European Union is a significant locale in this market generally in light of the fact that it has numerous countries that have put vigorously into the innovative work of these sorts of advances. These countries incorporate the U.K. Germany and Italy. The principal justification for what reason is on the grounds that these countries have solid car fabricating enterprises that utilization advanced mechanics innovations seriously.

The market development for the Robotic Process Automation (RPA) Market is supposed to be most grounded in the Asia-Pacific locale. Countries like India and China are encountering quick financial development. This is, thus, prodding interest for mechanically complex and high-level gadgets items like the Fitbit and the cell phone. Makers are answering by utilizing advanced mechanics to speed up the creation of these gadgets. They are likewise attempting to cut the assembling costs down with the goal that they can pass this onto the end shopper as lower costs.

#robotic process automation (rpa) market

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fatehbaz · 4 years

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Sources for thousands of Detroit residents without water access for years; Detroit lead poisoning; history of how Nestle conquered Michigan water; and how Flint residents pay the state more in utility fees in a single month for water access in a single household than Nestle pays the state in an entire year to extract 130 million gallons of water.

A response to this:

I hope these sources might help.

Just for geographic context:

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Nestle, which earns over $7 billion in annual bottled water sales, pays a once-a-year $200 administrative fee to extract over 130 million gallons of water from Evart, while people are poisoned and die in nearby Flint, where a single months’ water utility bill is over $200.

[Source: Jessica Glenza. “Nestle pays $200 a year to bottle water near Flint -- where water is undrinkable.” The Guardian. 29 September 2017.]

Flint became synonymous with lead-poisoned water after government officials, looking to save money, switched the city’s water supply from Detroit city water to water from the corrosive Flint river. Once the city had switched, the number of children with elevated lead exposure doubled; residents reported unexplained rashes and losing hair. An unpublished study recently found fetal deaths in Flint increased by 58% during the crisis. [...] Despite having endured lead-laden tap water for years, Flint pays some of the highest water rates in the US. Several residents cited bills upwards of $200 per month for tap water they refuse to touch. But just two hours away, in the tiny town of Evart, creeks lined by wildflowers run with clear water. The town is so small, the fairground, McDonald’s, high school and church are all within a block. But in a town of only 1,503 people, there are a dozen wells pumping water from the underground aquifer. This is where the beverage giant Nestle pumps almost 100,000 times what an average Michigan resident uses into plastic bottles that are sold all over the Midwest for around $1. To use this natural resource, Nestle pays $200 per year. Now, Nestle wants more Michigan water. In a recent permit application, the company asked to pump 210 million gallons per year from Evart, a 60% increase, and for no more than it pays today. [...] In a state where officials denied Flint’s water was poisoned with lead; where Detroit residents choose between heat and water; where the water-borne, pneumonia-like legionnaire’s disease killed a dozen; and where gastrointestinal bugs spread among residents who lacked (or didn’t trust) water, Nestle’s request seemed like salt on a wound.

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While thousands in Detroit have no water access, even people with water access have high rates of lead poisoning; in one Detroit zip code in 2017, 22% of tested children exhibited lead poisoning.

[Source: Karen Bouffard and Christine MacDonal. “Detroit kids’ lead poisoning rates higher than Flint.” The Detroit News. 14 November 2017.]

Detroit had Michigan’s highest proportion of children test positive for lead poisoning in 2016 — 8.8 percent of kids tested — including one ZIP code where 22 percent were found to have lead poisoning. Data from the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services show children are being sickened by lead in counties from Manistee to Hillsdale and St. Clair, though the rates of lead poisoning in Flint continue to improve.

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In 2020, Michigan institutions and judges continue to allow Nestle to pay minor administrative fee of $200 per each water extraction facility, as Nestle extracts over half a million gallons every single day from single individual wells (ie: just one annual fee of $200 for the Evart well).

[Source: Garret Ellison. “Nestle wins legal challenge to Michigan groundwater extraction.” MLive. 28 April 2020.]

A state administrative judge has upheld a permit that allows global food and beverage giant Nestle to boost the amount of Michigan groundwater it extracts for sale under the Ice Mountain bottled water brand. In a decision dated April 24 [2020], Judge Dan Pulter ruled that Nestle’s plans to withdrawal 576,000 gallons of groundwater per day from the headwaters of two cold water trout streams in Osceola County will not negatively impact the surrounding natural resources. Concerns were raised about potential impacts to Muskegon River watershed and the tiny $200 annual paperwork fee Nestle pays per facility to extract millions of gallons of Michigan groundwater to sell for profit. [...] Much of the broader opposition was from those upset that Nestle could source groundwater at essentially no cost while people in Flint were drinking water contaminated by bacteria and lead, and low-income residents of Detroit were having their taps shut off for non-payment.

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Nestle pumped over 2.5 billion gallons from a Mescota County well; Nestle has now pumped over 1 billion gallons from the Evart wells; the Osceola well now supplies millions of gallons a year.

[Source: Garret Ellison. “Nestle in Michigan: Unpacking the water battle backstory.” MLive. 26 December 2016. Updated 20 May 2019.]

Nestle made a deal [...] to drill four high-capacity wells at their 600-acre private hunting preserve in Morton Township [...]. The water is pumped 12 miles west to Stanwood. [...] The Sanctuary wells pumped more than 2.5 billion gallons between 2005 and 2015. [...] Nestle pumped at 400 gallons-per-minute until Mecosta County Judge Lawrence Root ordered it stopped in 2003 [...]. When Judge Root ordered the pumping stopped, Nestle looked north for another supply. The company found a willing partner in the city of Evart, which has sold Nestle more than 905 million gallons of Twin Creek spring water [...]. Evart wells have accounted for roughly a quarter of Nestle's total Michigan supply since 2005, but in 2014 Nestle discovered traces of perchlorate in its water. The toxic chemical, which is linked to thyroid problems in women and children, came from the Evart well field, which became contaminated with decades of Fourth of July fireworks ash. [...] When Nestle shut down one of its Evart wells because of the pollution, it looked to offset the capacity loss by increasing the pumping rate of an older well it owns in Osceola Township, [...] Nestle did not really use it much until 2011. Since then, the well has supplied more than 45 million gallons. Almost 70 percent of that total volume was pumped in 2015 alone.

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To gain uninhibited access to water extraction sites, Nestle merges with local government institutions and deliberately targets rural, isolated, or “economically-depressed” communities.

[Source: Franklin Frederick. “Nestle: Multinationals as the New Colonial Powers. A tale of Many Cities.” Defend Democracy Press. 22 December 2019.]

In 2002 Nestle hired John Hedley, an ex-MI6 agent – British military intelligence – as Head of Security. Among other things, Hedley was responsible for organizing an operation to spy on civil society groups critical to Nestle in Switzerland, mainly the ATTAC group. When this operation was unveiled by a Swiss investigative journalist that denounced it in the Swiss TV, Nestle had to face a court case and was condemned by the Swiss justice for it. In Wellington County, Nestle Waters Canada has permission to extract 4.7 million litres of water a day in wells at Hillsburgh and Aberfoyle and according to Mike Balkwill from Wellington Water Watchers, “the company has applied to renew those permits, while it extracts water without the consent of Six Nations, on whose territory it operates, and despite public opposition from several indigenous organizations.” [...] The situation is the same in Florida where although the local water authority considers that the water system is in recovery from over-exploitation, Nestle still wants to pump water from Ginnie Springs. The common pattern emerging from these and other cases – in the State of Michigan or in the small city of Sao Lourenco in Brazil – also shows that [...] in many places Nestle “merges” with the local authorities, as in Maine where a Nestle manager was on the State’s environmental protection agency board [...]. Recently, the ex-Nestle’s Head of Public Affairs, Christian Frutiger, was appointed Vice-Director of the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation – SDC, the Swiss Government Agency responsible for Development Aid programmes – where he will be responsible for SDC’s Global WATER program! [...]

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The source of America’s corporate water crisis can be traced back to 1976 when Perrier, now owned by Nestle, opened an office in New York. By 2016, bottled water sales had surpassed soda as the largest US beverage category [...]. Nestle Waters’ 2018 worldwide sales exceeded $7.8 billion. [...] Ultimately, the debate’s particulars lead back to a question at the heart of the issues: should water be commodified and sold by private industry, or is it a basic human right? Former Nestle chief executive and chariman Peter Brabeck labeled the latter viewpoint “extreme” and called water a “grocery product” that should “have market value.” He later amended that, arguing 25 liters of water daily is a “human right,” but water used [for purposes other than drinking, bathing, etc.] shouldn’t be free. [Source: Tom Perkins. “The fight to stop Nestle from taking America’s water to sell in plastic bottles.” The Guardian. 29 October 2019.]

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Tens of thousands of Detroit residents have been without water access since 2014; Detroit water contaminated with giardia, shigellosis, lead; Detroit administrators refused until the pandemic to even declare the water shutoffs a “public health issue,” and Michigan officials blame poor people for spending money on “luxury cell phones” instead of their water utility bills.

[Source: Nina Misuraca Ignaczak. “Detroit Water Shutoffs and a Crisis of Public Health.” Belt Magazine. 9 March 2020.]

The water crisis in Detroit began in earnest in 2014, during the city’s bankruptcy proceedings, when the DWSD abruptly shut off water service to tens of thousands of Detroit residents for nonpayment. [...] But activists have been fighting for years to get the city to recognize water shutoffs as a matter of public health. [...] Since the start, Bouier and other water activists have been fighting a narrative that assigns blame primarily to those impacted by the shutoffs. Early on, officials perpetuated the idea that residents were simply lazy and irresponsible. One official suggested that Detroiters should go down to the Detroit River with a bucket to fetch water. Then-emergency manager Kevyn Orr suggested that customers would rather pay for “luxuries” like cell phones than water. [...] As of early March [2020], activists had renewed their calls to the governor to enact a moratorium [on water utility shutoffs in Detroit], linking poor sanitation to an increased risk of Coronavirus. “Michigan residents have particular reason to fear the spread of coronavirus because the ongoing deprivation of tens of thousands of people from basic access to water and sanitation […]” the group’s statement reads. “Residents deprived of water in their homes have been sharing or borrowing water at an alarming rate – 80% in one study – creating a transmission path for coronavirus, as well as hepatitis A, shigellosis, campylobacter, and giardia, all of which have been plausibly linked to the shutoffs by health officials.”

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littlemisswonton · 3 years

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How Shanghai is losing its mother tongue

In the past 20 years, Shanghai has surged to become an international commercial, cultural and transport hub with eye-opening speed. While gaining worldwide attention with its fast-growing economy and skyscrapers, the megacity is quickly - and silently - losing a precious part of its own: its mother tongue.

The Shanghai dialect is a part of an ancient language family, Wu Chinese, which originated in eastern China some 2,500 years ago and is spoken by roughly 80million people today.

Known for its soft and elegant sound, Wu Chinese is not mutually intelligible with Mandarin, which is based on the Beijing dialect. And because Wu Chinese has preserved some ancient pronunciations non-existent in Mandarin, classic Chinese literature from hundreds of years ago - such as popular poems from Tang and Ming dynasties - would sound more authentic and rhythmical when being read in it.

The Shanghai dialect, also known as Shanghainese, is a young but prominent member of Wu Chinese due to Shanghai’s prosperity as a colonial trading port between the mid 19th and 20th century. It was a fashionable tongue in the pre-Communist China and introduced many then-trendy Western items to Chinese people’s life through phonetic translation, for example “vez lin” for Vaseline, “fa le niong” for flannel and “kes mi” for cashmere.

It was associated with intellectual, entertainment and political icons, such as novelist Eileen Chang, singer Zhou Xuan and “the mother of modern China” Soong Ching-ling. It also spawned opera, comedy and entertainment productions enjoyed by generations of Shanghai dwellers.

But the distinct lingo, which could be heard in the city’s every nook and cranny up until three decades ago, is struggling to survive the rapid modernisation that has propelled Shanghai to its global status today.

(Soong Ching-ling, the wife of Sun Yat-Sen, was born in Shanghai and spoke the Shanghai dialect all her life. The above picture of her, via Wikimedia, was taken by British photographer Sir Cecil Beaton during the Second World War in China’s wartime capital, Chungking.)

A 2016 survey showed that only 30 per cent of Shanghai residents would use the Shanghai dialect in their daily conversation, while more than half of the locals preferred to speak Mandarin, China’s official language. Another study from 2017 found that nearly 80 per cent of local youngsters between the ages of six and 20 could not speak their mother tongue fluently, highlighting a sombre cultural crisis.

The dialect’s popularity was dealt with a sudden blow in 1992 when the central government launched a hard-hitting campaign to “promote Mandarin”. Aimed to establish a lingua franca for the country, the language movement, however, imposed heavy restrictions on the use of Shanghainese in Shanghai.

Among a list of mandatory rules, school children must receive lessons in Mandarin and were banned from speaking dialect in class and during breaks. Besides, public servants and service industry staff must stick to Mandarin at work. A few years later in 2001, Shanghainese programmes, beloved by the locals at the time, were pulled from TV and radio stations by a language law. Only a few opera and comedy shows were permitted to be run in dialect.

Propaganda slogans, such as “Learn Mandarin, be a civilised person” and “Speak Mandarin is the symbol of civilisation”, appeared ubiquitously in Shanghai during the 1990s and early 2000s, leaving many youngsters feeling ashamed of using dialect.

Some of those compulsory policies were in place for more than a decade, others still remain effective.

(The above photo, via Vmenkov/Wikimedia, shows a ‘Mandarin-promoting’ slogan outside a kindergarten in Shanghai. It reads: ‘Everybody, please speak Mandarin, and standardise the language and writing.)

Qian Nairong, a Chinese language professor at Shanghai University, views the school ban a major cause of the dialect’s decline. He notes that the city’s primary school pupils were prohibited from speaking the Shanghai dialect on campus from the 1990s for over 10 years. As a result, several generations of Shanghai children grew up unable to express themselves well in their mother tongue.

“The inheritance of Shanghainese has met a rift when it comes to people born after 1985,” lamented Prof Qian during an interview with China News.

The ardent Shanghainese promoter authored a comprehensive dictionary in 2007 in a bid to romanise the dialect and standardise its written form. Five years later, he penned a petition with 81 other scholars, calling authorities to set up systematic regulations to protect Shanghainese.

Unfortunately, these grass-rooted efforts are yet to yield substantial changes in the government’s directives. Moreover, they might have come a little too late to alter millennials’ communication style.

Wang Kanyu, a 30-year-old Shanghai author, admits that it is difficult for her to hold a conversation purely in the Shanghai dialect because she talks to her friends and colleagues mostly in Mandarin.

Born in 1990 to a local family, Ms Wang began her primary school education in 1997 and was strictly forbidden from speaking the dialect by her teachers.

“I remember we promoted the using of Mandarin in my primary school. We had rankings with stars for pupils in our class. If anyone spoke Shanghainese, they would have a star taken away from them,” Ms Wang explains slowly using the Shanghai dialect.

“In middle and high school, all of my classmates were from Shanghai, but few of them would talk to each other in Shanghainese because most had got used to using Mandarin.”

She says as she grew up, she rarely conversed in Shanghainese with anyone outside her family. “Therefore, I am not accustomed to speaking it now. Besides, I feel that I cannot speak it well,” adds Ms Wang.

(I was among the very last generation of Shanghai children to be taught predominantly in my mother tongue throughout my school years. Above is my kindergarten graduation photo taken in the summer of 1989. I am in the front row, the fifth to the left.)

Apart from the tough Mandarin mandate, Shanghai’s swiftly shifting demographics pose as a challenge.

The city’s population ballooned by a third between 1998 and 2018, largely due to an influx of migrants from around the nation in search for work and better life. In other words, more than eight million out of Shanghai’s current 24million citizens did not grow up speaking the Shanghai dialect and rely on Mandarin to communicate in their daily life.

Huang Peide, a 37-year-old native, considers this a primary factor that prevents many Shanghai locals from using dialect.

“It is not that Shanghai people don’t speak Shanghainese any more. The fact is they have fewer and fewer people to speak it with,” Mr Huang points out using a mixture of the Shanghai dialect and Mandarin.

He says: “Environment can change people. For example, for people born after the 1980s, many of their friends, colleagues and clients are not from Shanghai. If they talk in Shanghainese, the listeners can’t understand. So what can you do?”

Mr Huang and his wife, both born in Shanghai, are encouraging their eight-year-old son to communicate with them in Shanghainese at home, “but he sometimes uses it, sometimes doesn’t”.

The father notes that around a third of his son’s classmates are from non-Shanghai-native families, and some 30 per cent of the teachers are non-Shanghainese speakers. Therefore it would not be practical for his son to speak the tongue while in school.

“In daily life, I insist teaching him the dialect, but he doesn’t have the environment to use it outside our home,” Mr Huang admits.

(The Shanghai dialect, or Shanghainese, could be heard in every nook and cranny of the city up until three decades ago. This picture, circulating on social media and believed to be taken in the early 1990s, shows pedestrians and cyclists on Nanjing Xi Road near the Jing’an Temple.)

Prof Qian believes it has become “urgent” to protect Shanghainese and the “key” is to encourage Shanghai youngsters to converse in it.

“The inheritance of a language relies on people, especially children,” the 75-year-old urged in a recent column. “We must let Shanghai pupils bring Shanghainese, which they have spoken with their parents since infancy, to their schools freely and allow it (the dialect) to be used after class. This is the key to passing forward Shanghainese.”

The academic, who has also developed a Shanghainese input method for computer users, stresses that promotion of Shanghainese is not aimed at marginalising Mandarin, but to build a society where the two can co-exist in a “harmonious” way.

“‘Bilingual people’ who can switch between Shanghainese and Mandarin can, for sure, have a more smooth, natural and free life in Shanghai. Furthermore, there are more and more occasions for [people to use] English. Therefore, Shanghai will certainly become a ‘multi-lingual’ society,” Prof Qian writes. “… In a diverse society, we need to build a harmonious, ‘multi-lingual’ life. Mandarin and Shanghainese can achieve a ‘win-win’ situation in Shanghai.”

Prof Qian’s comments echo the social stigma Shanghai locals face while talking to strangers in dialect. Out of fear that the addressees would not understand Shanghainese, and thus they would be regarded as “discriminating against migrants” - a sensitive topic in today’s Chinese society – many have now abandoned Shanghainese entirely in public and at work.

Mandy Chen, an analyst for a Fortune 500 firm in Shanghai, considers the discrimination topic “an interesting social discussion”.

“Normally, if we go to a less-fortunate place and hear the locals talk in their dialect, you won’t think they are discriminating against you. But if we go to a more developed area and hear the local use their dialect, you might feel that they are excluding you,” says the 36-year-old “new Shanghai citizen”, who can understand Shanghainese but has not actively learnt it.

(The Shanghai dialect spawned opera, comedy and entertainment productions enjoyed by generations of Shanghai dwellers. This picture shows Shanghainese stand-up comedy legends Yao Mushuang, right, and Zhou Baichun, left.)

Ms Chen grew up in northern China’s Inner Mongolia and has lived in Shanghai for 10 years on and off after moving to the city for university. She says she doesn’t mind - sometimes even prefers – her friends and colleagues speaking Shanghainese to her. But she acknowledges that some non-natives would, indeed, feel being looked down upon if spoken to in Shanghainese.

“This is more a psychological issue of the listener than a language issue. Often, the speaker doesn’t have any intention to show prejudice against the listener. It could be that they sound cold naturally,” she explains.

While the lingo-in-crisis is yet to be officially allowed in school or added into the curriculum, many of the city’s community schools have set up Shanghainese courses intended for “new Shanghai citizens” who moved to the city from other places.

“To pay more attention to teaching Shanghainese to new Shanghai citizens would be very beneficial to their children’s adoption of Shanghainese,” Prof Qian pens.

Ms Chen confesses that if she has a child in Shanghai, she would be happy to learn Shanghainese and the Shanghainese culture together with her son or daughter, so “my child can somehow relate to Shanghai as their hometown”.

She says that due to her family background, she grew up speaking only Mandarin. Still, she supports the idea of protecting Shanghainese because dialect is “a symbol of a region” and “a bridge between a person and their native culture”.

“I don’t wish to see Shanghai children unable to understand Shanghainese one day. It would be very unfortunate. For one thing, many cultural nuances and household gossips can only be expressed thoroughly through dialect,” Ms Chen points out in Mandarin. “In this regard, I am a sad example. If you ask me to talk, I can only use Mandarin.”

#shanghai dialect #shanghainese #mother tongue #mandarin #local culture

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firstagent · 3 years

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Review: Digimon Adventure: (2020) Episode 32: Soaring Hope

In this episode, the team struggles against the Digimon Takuya beat singlehandedly in episode one of Frontier, so they call in the Digimon Takeru got saddled with in episode three of Zero Two.

It’s too early to say the show is finding its legs again, but there are encouraging signs from every angle. It’s a rare time when a new evolution feels earned after we get time to get inside a character’s head. One of the kids is actually hit by an attack, in a way that even impacts the fight. Circumstances prevent Taichi from dominating the spotlight, useful as he continues to contribute nothing of value to the show. And there’s a new evolution mechanic that holds a lot of storytelling potential if it can be utilized the right way. That’s a big if, especially as evolution mechanics continue to be frustratingly vague. For all the good things offered here, there are just as many signs that the show still doesn’t know what it’s doing.

After all the time we’ve spent gnashing our teeth at the lack of any sort of character depth, of course the one to stand up and demonstrate how it’s done is Patamon. He’s been struggling ever since the DarkKnightmon fight, with only Komondomon’s intervention saving him and Takeru from Fangmon’s attack. The resulting feeling of inadequacy is explored beautifully as Lopmon reaches his subconscious. While meant to be encouraging, the reminder of everything he’s been through in the past only builds up that feeling of helplessness. This is a Digimon who has been through everything and given up so much, only to be stuck in a fragile body, unable to step up when everything’s going to hell again. As far as the Digimon themselves, this sort of depth is right up there with the main players of Xros Wars. As far as characters in this series, it’s near the top with that alone.

We even get signs of life from Takeru! He’s been an empty shell since his arrival, but he supports his partner in a more meaningful, more revealing way than we’re used to. He ties in a story from his past and his appreciation for Yamato’s patience through a struggle, extending that same kindness to Patamon. It doesn’t tell us much, but he’s opening himself up, something the other kids have been hesitant to do. It’s also a reversal from the usual norm of the Digimon supporting the children. Perhaps we should be treating the Digimon partners as the true main characters of this show, with the children resigned to blunt accessories. It’s a terrible waste of the Adventure kids, but building on the Xros Wars route and turning the partners into genuine featured characters would be an intriguing path if explored evenly and consistently.

The action is transparently tailored to let Patamon be the star, but all the contrivances in the world are worth it to take the spotlight away from Taichi. For the second time in the series, Sora is not granted the same immunity from damage Taichi and Yamato receive, laid up after a nasty hit. The nature of the chase jostles Taichi, MetalGreymon, and Garudamon out of position. Patamon and Takeru defiantly protect Sora, stirring something within Patamon to rise to the occasion and remember the fight that’s always been with him. It’s not a revolutionary kind of growth, but it’s effective and told well and we’re cheering for Patamon as he evolves to… Pegusmon??

It’s a head-scratcher, but it’s too early to say whether it’s the “intriguing twist in mechanics to be explored later” kind or the “hey, just for fun, let’s do this one instead” kind. Lopmon suggests that all the collective battles has shut down Angemon for good, but there’s no good justification for why Angemon was available before fighting DarkKnightmon but not after. There better be more going on here than just bad timing. If it’s something we aren’t fully aware of yet, using Pegusmon in his traditional role of evolutionary detour makes perfect sense. If not, this is blatant pandering to Zero Two fans and another bullet point on why this season is shamelessly bad.

We’re stuck waiting on two factors to really assess the idea of alternate evolution and the show’s commitment to it. One is when and how Angemon appears again, because he obviously will. If something beyond Patamon’s control is blocking evolution and something, likely involving DarkKnightmon, needs to be unlocked, that’s a good sign. Further validating the idea is if other Digimon have to resort to alternate evolutions at some point. If Angemon is blocked, could that be why Tailmon hasn’t appeared yet? There’s certainly a number of alternate forms her path can take. When thought out well and applied consistently, it’s a refreshing mechanic that could define a system that thus far refuses to show its work. But given how it hasn’t, we’re past the point of letting signs of promise in one episode generate too much hope.

My Grade: B+

Loose Data:

Komondomon was shown with a big enough saddle that we never considered that he could be another Digimon you could go inside. They really love those this season. Have to wonder how that works that Sora can just stick her hand out of his fur from inside.

While Takeru gets rounded a little more, they’re doing everything in their power to neuter anything interesting about Yamato. The kid who refused to work with or for others is now shown to be a supportive big brother who has no problem entrusting Takeru to Taichi’s care. So boring.

Taichi suddenly asking about the others is a terribly awkward segue, but it’s no surprise that Mimi’s in a far more interesting predicament than they are. We’d say we want to know more about this Golemon-Togemon fight, but Joe’s suddenly got a lot less interesting now that there’s actually a clear threat.

Koshiro actually seems upset that somebody other than him found out about the ISS situation. The prospect of misinformation doesn’t help anyone, but he really seems to think it would be better if he and he alone dealt with the crisis in secret. What an ass.

It’s laughably evident that the writers forget that the kids ride their Digimon into battle at every opportunity. Pegusmon goes into a spinning attack with Takeru on board and it’s never brought up.

To everyone’s relief, Pegusmon is treated appropriately given his apparent level. He’s permitted his standard debut evolution bonus, of course, but he’s only enough to hold off Cerberumon long enough for the much stronger MetalGreymon and Garudamon to get back in the fight. They even let him get off the final shot to save face!

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore! Support the site by joining our Patreon!

#digimon #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure (2020)

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kalyan-gullapalli · 4 years

Text

Post # 128

Bharat's Ratna...

If Pamulaparthi Venkata Narasimha Rao were alive today, he would be 99 years old. On 28th June, 2021, he would have turned 100. So this year, the Telangana government is celebrating his birth centenary year. Chief Minister K Chandrasekhar Rao led the bandwagon of people demanding Bharat Ratna for PV (as he was fondly known), with BJP leader Subramaniam Swamy supporting this demand. Reports appear that Dr. Manmohan Singh wanted to give him a Bharat Ratna when he was Prime Minister.

Glowing tributes flew from all and sundry, even from Congress, whose party he belonged to, and who conveniently chose to ignore him since 1996, when he stepped down as PM.

No matter how significant PV Narasimha Rao's life was before 1996, it probably must have been hell since then, till 2004, when he died of a heart attack. First of all, he got no credit from his own Congress party for the path-breaking economic reforms he instituted and pulled the country out of the deep shit it had been pushed into by former governments and their policies. Dr. Manmohan Singh, instead, got all the credit.

Next, he was blamed for the party's 1996 electoral defeat, dumped and replaced by Sitaram Kesari. He was excluded from every Congress Working Committee meeting since.

To rub salt on wounds, he was charged with many corruption cases, some of them by his own party colleagues. He supposedly went through a very bad phase financially and had to sell his Banjara Hills house in Hyderabad to pay for his lawyers.

When he died, while undergoing treatment in AIIMS, his family requested that being a former PM, he should be cremated and his remains buried in Delhi. But Sonia Gandhi and her cronies didn't even allow his body to enter the AICC building in Delhi. That's when Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister YS Rajasekhar Reddy intervened, flew the body back to Hyderabad, and had it cremated with state honors.

But why was PV, a freedom fighter before Indian independence, a career Congress-man, an Indira Gandhi loyalist even in Emergency days, a State Chief Minister, a cabinet minister with Foreign and Home ministries and an ex-Prime Minister, treated with such disdain in his last few years? And now, why this drama about a Bharat Ratna? Therein lies a tale...

In 1991, PV Narasimha Rao had practically retired from politics. He had by then, seen it all, done it all. Renowned as a scholar - he was fluent in 17 languages - and known to be indecisive - a requisite for survival in the Indian National Congress in those Indira days - he was cooling his heels, when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated, in the midst of electoral polling.

Congress emerged as the largest party in those elections, but didn't have majority. Sonia didn't want to enter politics just as yet. So PV was persuaded to head a minority government, simply because he was deemed harmless, and asked to lead a nation rocked by the worst economic crisis in its history - the country was bankrupt and had to pledge 68 tonnes of gold in return for aid from IMF, and was grappling with political uncertainty - this was the third government in as many years.

To put it mildly, to survive 5 years - 5 eventful years - and produce the results that he did, was nothing short of miraculous. If a Prime Minister's performance is to be measured by the difference he made to the country while in office, PV Narasimha Rao was probably the most significant Prime Minister India has ever had.

1. Economic reforms:

PV Narasimha Rao was the true father of Indian economic reforms. He brought in a technocrat - Dr. Manmohan Singh as the Finance Minister of India, and backed him 100% to implement necessary reforms. He himself headed the Commerce and Industries ministry to dismantle the socialist policies of the License Raj. His ability to steer unconventional, unpopular reforms through opposition, while heading a minotity government gave him the title Chanakya of Indian politics. Dr. Manmohan Singh says PV was "his friend, philosopher and guide".

2. Nuclear testing:

Today, the world credits Atal Bihari Vajpayee government for India's nuclear testing programme, which culminated in the Pokhran tests of 1998. However, the tests were actually planned in 1995, during PV's term in office. They were dropped under American pressure when the US intelligence got the whiff of it. In 1996, when PV stepped down and Vajpayee became PM, PV met Vajpayee and updated him on the progress of the nuclear programme. Vajpayee said later, "Rao told me that the bomb was ready. I only exploded it." APJ Abdul Kalam described PV Narasimha Rao as a "patriotic statesman who believed that the nation is bigger than the political system".

3. Foreign policy:

He decided in 1992 to bring into the open India's relations with Israel, which had been kept covertly active for a few years during his tenure as a Foreign Minister, and permitted Israel to open an embassy in New Delhi. Today, Israel is one of India's best friends.

He ordered the intelligence community in 1992 to start a systematic drive to draw the international community's attention to Pakistan's sponsorship of terrorism in India and not to be discouraged by US efforts to undermine the exercise.

Rao launched the Look East foreign policy, which brought India closer to ASEAN. Subsequent governments have pursued this policy as well. Today, Narendra Modi is a strong advocate and practitioner of this policy.

He decided to maintain a distance from the Dalai Lama in order to placate Beijing, and made successful overtures to Tehran. These policies paid rich dividends for India in 1994, when Benazir Bhutto's efforts to have a resolution passed by the UN Human Rights Commission in Geneva on the human rights situation in Jammu and Kashmir failed, with opposition by China and Iran.

4. Crisis management:

After the 1993 Bombay blasts, PV personally visited Bombay and after seeing evidence of Pakistani involvement in the blasts, invited the intelligence agencies of the US, UK and other West European countries to examine the facts for themselves.

It was during his term that terrorism in Punjab was finally defeated.

He also directed negotiations to secure the release of Doraiswamy, an Indian Oil executive, from Kashmiri terrorists who kidnapped him, and Liviu Radu, a Romanian diplomat posted in New Delhi in October 1991, who was kidnapped by Sikh terrorists.

He also brought the occupation of the Hazratbal holy shrine in Jammu and Kashmir by terrorists in October 1993 to an end without damage to the shrine.

In 1993, a strong earthquake in Latur, Maharashtra killed nearly 10,000 people and displaced hundreds of thousands. PV Narasimha Rao was applauded for using modern technology and resources to organise major relief operations.

Okay. By now, I am convinced he has done enough to have become a high-performance Prime Minister, despite his inaction during the Babri Masjid demolition and the pan-India rioting that happened after that. But why the disdain, especially from within his own party?

Some commentators say that his shabby treatment largely owed to the fact that, in the dusk of his career, he refused to serve as a seat-warmer to the next generation of Gandhis. Once he became the PM, this previously indecisive, harmless, grand old man acted like the buck stopped with him. He stopped visiting Sonia Gandhi regularly, which she resented. In him, the Gandhi family detected a rival power centre that could diminish their centrality to the party and its fortunes.

Some others say that Sonia Gandhi was unhappy with the pace at which Rajiv Gandhi's assassination case was progressing. A few others say that Congress ‘punished’ Rao for his failure to safeguard the Babri Masjid and jeopardise the party’s long-nurtured Muslim vote bank.

Whatever be the real inside story, I feel compelled to reproduce the most glowing tribute to PV Narasimha Rao I read in the past few days.

“Rao is to India what founding fathers Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson are to the United States; Friedrich List to Germany; Hayato Ikeda to Japan; Lee Kuan Yew, Goh Keng Swee and Albert Winsemius to Singapore; and Deng Xiaoping to China.”

In my book, Pamulaparthi Venkata Narasimha Rao is 100% a Bharat Ratna - a Jewel of India.

#pv narasimha rao #congress #prime minister #chief minister #indian economic recovery #economic liberalisation #globalization #dr manmohan singh #rajiv gandhi #indira gandhi #sonia gandhi #telangana #andhra pradesh #bharat ratna #bombay blasts #israel #pakistan #babri masjid

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

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The Miys, Ch. 70

After every serious arc, I like to do a fluffy chapter. Super fluffy. And this one is no exception.

There are three people I cannot thank enough for helping with this chapter. First up is @charlylimph-blog for helping me get the character of Charly right. You may remember her briefly as the woman with the collar from the Food Festival arc.

Second, of course, is @satan-parisienne for beta-ing the stuff I churn out. She is in town for New Year’s this week, and I had the absolute pleasure of watching her reactions in real-time (something I haven’t gotten to do in several months)!

Last but not least, @baelpenrose, who has been giving the last few chapters a read to make sure the story is consistent and to poke holes in anything I may have missed or got mixed up.

Happy New Year, and I hope to see you all in the New Roaring 20s!

”Sophia, we sorta kinda maybe need to talk?”

I glanced up from my datapad, rubbing the cramp in my neck as I did. With Insert Winter Holiday – and the crisis with Else – behind us, the backlog at work basically qualified as cruel and unusual punishment in most Terran jurisdictions. Unfortunately, we weren’t on Terra anymore, so I was working twenty hour days trying to get things back on an even keel. Neither my joints nor my partners were very appreciative of it, but at least Conor and Maverick complained less than my spine did.

When I saw my visitor, I stood with much crackling to greet her. Charly bounced in, completely oblivious to my crunchy joints. “You work too much,” she scolded without preamble. “We need a ladies’ night – you, me, Tyche, and Xiomara. No arguments.”

Arching an eyebrow at her uncharacteristically demanding tone, I glanced over her shoulder. A dark silhouette that rivaled Conor’s height flashed a quick, blinding white grin. I shrugged and looked back to the energetic brunette in front of me. “And when am I supposed to have time for a ladies’ night, Charly?”

“I already talked to Xiomara, who talked to Tyche, who told Alistair to clear your calendar the day after tomorrow. So, tomorrow night, we’re getting cute and going out!”

“Three out of four of those names are in relationships,” I pointed out.

“So? It’s drinks with the girls. I tried to ask Grey, but they don’t want to go.” She dropped her eyes and pouted at my navel before looking back in the direction of my face. “Still. It’s not like we have to be on the hunt for sexy fun times just to go out and have drinks together. It’ll be fun. And you know you love the Undine, you just haven’t had an excuse to go back with everything going on.”

Bacon Bloody Marys… I shook my head vigorously, focusing on the present. “You do realize that Xio, Tyche, and I are probably going to talk about work, right?”

“Duh. Geez, that’s what the booze is for. Complaining about work is enhanced… by the booze.”

I sighed. Ever since she had been released from medical observation, I had learned that saying no to Charly was incredibly difficult. Even Tyche just kind of went along with her in something of a confused daze. I swore, the woman had a superpower – people just agreed with her. The only thing standing between her and Galactic domination was the same low threshold my sister and I shared for being around people.

If she was this eager to go out, to a bar, for a girls’ night, who were we to say no?

“Can I at least take today to think about – “ I tried in vain, only to be cut off.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Girls’ night! Girls’ Night! Ladies’ gonna get druuuuuunk!” she started chanting and dancing in a circle.

Sure enough, the next night saw Tyche fussing over my outfit and hair, gently trying to tousle it into something she obviously understood and I didn’t. Xiomara was laughing hard enough that the only thing saving her from an abrupt, face-first introduction with the floor was the doorway she was leaning against. When I tried to turn my head to scowl at her, Tyche used one very firm fingertip to turn my head back to her. “I’m almost done. Would you just hold still? Sheesh,” she grumbled.

“You know I hate getting dolled up,” I pointed out sulkily.

She ignored me, instead stepping back to look at her handiwork. “I think that will work,” she finally pronounced with a nod.

The mirror she held up made me want to scream. “I look exactly like I did before!” I cried in confusion. “Why did you spend an hour making my hair look exactly the same!?”

With a low growl, she rolled her eyes and shook her head at a now-gasping Xiomara. “Some people just don’t understand,” she sighed dramatically. Glaring at me, she pointed at my hair. “This does not look the same. It looks intentional.”

Xiomara temporarily sobered up enough to contribute her two cents. “Before, you had bed-head. Now, you have sex hair. Big difference.”

“You. Two. Are. Loony,” I ground out. I reached to run a hand through my hair in frustration, only to have Tyche intercept it.

“Don’t you dare. I don’t have time to fix it,” she ordered before dragging me out of my office, my hand still clutched tightly in her grasp. Groaning as loudly as possible in hopes of rescue, I reluctantly allowed myself to be pulled along until we reached the Undine. Once outside, my sister stopped and dropped my hand, giving me one last once-over before seeming content that I hadn’t managed to wreck her painstaking work in the last forty meters.

I was permitted to enter the pub under my own power. Making our way to the back of the space, we found Charly had already claimed a high-top. As soon as we were visible, Coffey gently cupped her jaw in one massive hand and gave her a kiss that was paired with a look that clearly meant Stay out of trouble. Charly just gave him an angelic smile.

Frankly, the odds of that were fifty-fifty. Charly wasn’t reckless – not by a long shot. On the contrary, I had learned in recent weeks that she was usually very quiet and extremely cautious. In absolute, direct conflict with this was an underlying need to play pranks on unsuspecting victims.

Given her usual demeanor, ‘unsuspecting’ was synonymous with ‘everyone on the Ark except Noah and Coffey’. Well, Coffey at least suspected it, but he wasn’t exactly immune to pranks. When I asked her about it once, she just shrugged and told me “Hey, if I’m going to be punished, I may as well deserve it.”

The man in question waved one hand at the three of us before disappearing into the crowd. I honestly had no clue how he did that – he was easily the second tallest human on the ship. More annoyingly, he did it all. The. Damned. Time. It was profoundly frustrating, albeit very impressive. Squashing the sigh I felt bubbling up, I turned back to the table. Tyche and Xiomara were already seated, leaving me a seat across from my sister.

No sooner did I climb onto my seat, than Sebastian came through the crowd with a tray full of drinks. Coconut rum and fruit juice for Tyche, an enormous Bloody Mary for myself, neat whiskey for Xiomara, and eye-catchingly blue something-slushy with a huge wedge of pineapple and an umbrella for Charly. She caught me looking and held it up so I could see it better. “It has alcohol, I swear – blue curacao, cognac, and rum.”

With a skeptic glance, Tyche sniffed the drink and wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like a hangover.”

“Nuh-uh,” Charly retorted. “It sounds like fun!”

Xiomara rolled her eyes before downing her whiskey with a wink at me. “If we’re here to drink, may as well, right?”

An hour and a half later, Sebastian was taking away our most recent set of empty glasses, ducking Tyche’s hand as she gesticulated wildly. She was telling some story to Charly, who had slowly scooted her chair closer and closer. At the moment, she was leaning on the part of the table that was actually in front of my sister, watching and giggling as Tyche enthusiastically flailed and made exaggerated faces. I could not figure out for the life of me what story she was telling, but a few minutes later she tipped her head back with a clap of her hands and a peal of laughter. This sent Charly into a fit of giggles, face down on her arms.

I glanced at Xiomara, who was smiling, but still clearly sober despite her drinks. With a conspiratorial tone, I told her “They are soooo drrrrr… draaa…. dur-rur-rur… Inebriated. Very inebriated.”

Xio stopped mid-sip to arch an eyebrow at me. “You seriously couldn’t get out the word drunk so you went with, of all things, inebriated!?”

Tyche and Charly collapsed into howling laughter at the disbelief in her tone. I just tapped my temple and sat as straight as I possibly could, offended. “Dain bramage, Xio. Loooooots of brain damage.” I ruined my scolding tone by belatedly realizing what I had initially said and snorting with laughter.

That seemed to break the dam to pieces, because I started giggling and could not stop myself no matter how hard I tried. It didn’t help when, just as the giggling started to trickle off, Charly howled “Dain Bramaaaage!” at the top of her lungs and blindly toasted the room with a mostly-empty hurricane glass. The gesture sent the wedge of pineapple on the rim into a tumbling arc…

Right into Xiomara’s whiskey, droplets splashing her face.

I didn’t know whether it was the pineapple or the wet-cat look on Xio’s face, but either way, it was the funniest thing the three of us had ever seen. Soon, Tyche and I were leaning against Charly, fighting for breath against the laughter that was possessing us like minor demons.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Xiomara mock-sneered. “Go ahead, laugh it up. I swear, you three are –“

When she stopped mid-sentence, Tyche popped up like a meerkat. Almost immediately, she was smacking my shoulder and shaking Charly. “Look! Looklooklooklooklook.”

Xiomara was frozen, face slack, mouth half-open with the dying breath of whatever she was about to call us. Her eyes were glued to the entrance of the Undine. I felt two different spots in my neck pop as I snapped my head around to see what she was staring at. At first, all I could see was just an ocean of people getting after-work drinks and socializing… granted, it was a little quieter than I expected, and more people were talking in hushed tones than I remembered from bars back home, but maybe I was just out of touch.

Tyche saved me again by reaching across, grabbing my jaw, and turning my head to face what Xiomara was looking at: a beautiful woman, about my height, with what seemed like miles of thick, black hair, and a stunning blue saree with warm gold and pale green details coming over her shoulder. I could see how she was a show-stopper, honestly, but Xio’s reaction seemed a bit dramatic.

In contrast to this, Charly’s head came up, dislodging Tyche’s hand. “Oh, that’s just Parvati! She’s an artist. I think she told me once she did murals in the Before?”

The statement seemed to snap Xio out of her trance. “What? How do you know her?”

Oblivious to the demanding tone, Charly shrugged. “She works with Hannah a lot. Like, a lot-lot. So I’ve met her a few times. She’s really lovely, honestly. Some of her work is in the database… she did a lot of politically-charged protest art, like this one…what was it called?” She snapped her fingers a few times, lost in thought. “Started with a ‘G’ I think? Refugee something?”

“Refugee Guernica!?” my sister and I demanded at the same time.

“Yeah! That one. The really violent one.”

The piece had been extremely controversial: a hyper-realistic mural of climate refugees, posed to evoke the original Picasso work and gaunt with starvation. That, alone, would have been palatable to the powers-that-were. However… the artist had gone one step further and portrayed what had been livestock in the original work as human beings, feasted upon by the fattened rich. It had also been in true-to-life color, which hadn’t helped soften any blows. Tyche and I had both been breathless the first time we saw an image of it.

“That is the person who did that mural?” Tyche asked, pointing a finger at the woman across the bar.

Charly nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! Parvati Fletcher. Remember? Signed all her murals with a little arrow, fletched with peacock feathers?”

Xiomara’s eyes narrowed. “She did the one decrying the Baconists, didn’t she?”

“Yeah! Animal Farm, the scene where the pigs were adding ‘but some animals are more equal than others’. I don’t know if Parvati has it in her to hate, but the closest I ever saw her come was when she compared Baconists to the rich. She said that the only difference between the two was that Baconists were more honest about wanting annihilate humanity.”

Dark eyes narrowed as Xio flicked open her datapad, summoning data furiously. Abruptly, she relaxed. “I remember this file… We suspected her after what happened on Level One, but Noah confirmed on three separate occasions that she was telling the truth.”

“Duuuuuhhhhhhhhh,” Charly intoned, rolling her eyes comically. “Vati doesn’t argue much, but one thing that will always make her speak is the fact that she only believes that humanity is at its best if everyone is given the opportunity to be their best.”

“That’s… why she’s here, isn’t it?” I asked with dawning comprehension.

“Well, yeah. Why else? You’re here for the same reason, right? You believe in the best in a person, no matter the person, right? Well, she believes in that… It’s like, if you’re a psychologist, she would be a sociologist. She believes in the best in humanity, not just the best in a person.”

Huh. That was a breath of fresh air. I glanced back at Xiomara. She looked lost, and I followed her sight back to the same blue and earth-tone saree, shining dark hair, and a bright white laugh. I glanced back and forth a few times before the realization hit me between the eyes like a sledgehammer. The gaping stare, the quick background check and almost melting relief… “Xio?” I whispered in that special, extra-quiet volume only drunk people can use. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Tell the whole bar, why don’t you?” she grumbled.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” I held my hands up placatingly. “I just…. I had a completely different idea in mind for your type, that’s all. Took me a bit to realize I was so, so wrong.”

“Oh, yeah, peopling-queen?” she smirked. “Do tell, what did you have in mind as ‘my type’?”

“Well, I saw this video once of a lady who broke a pumpkin in half between her thighs…” I gave her a pointed look.

Next to her, Tyche nodded vigorously. “And more sharp objects. We both thought your affections could only be won by someone who could best you in single combat.”

Charly scowled. “There are more types of combat than fighting, you two. I bet Parvati has incited more political uprisings than any four people at this table.” My brows furrowed and I opened my mouth to say something, but Charly rolled her eyes again and cut me off. “Yes, Sophia. I am aware there are only four people at this table. That’s the point.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #science fiction #original sci fi #apocalypse #alcohol #art #earth is space australia #original fiction

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thetranquilteal · 4 years

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Tethered - A One Shot [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

Being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

Modern Day Firefighter AU. One-shot. Inspired by personal feelings of anxiety and helplessness this Australian bushfire season.

A/N: I had just settled myself down in front of my computer with the intention of editing Part II of The Gift when the news caught my notice. For many Australian’s like myself, bushfires are not anything new. Every year hazard reduction burns are conducted (weather permitting), friends and family who volunteer with local fire brigades are likely to get called out at unexpected times, we pay attention when the State Department issues a Total Fire Ban. But the news that day was worrisome. It was alarming. It was downright anxiety-inducing. A literal state of emergency. I looked down at the story on my screen and asked myself… What would Claire and Jamie do in this situation? The answer, I found, was easy: they would be right there in amongst it. Fighting. Healing. Doing anything and everything they could to help the cause. Then I began to wonder… what if Claire was in my situation? What if she, too, was a primary carer who had little ones relying upon her, who had little to no extended family to provide support, who couldn’t simply walk out the door - no matter how much she wanted to? After much thought, I came to understand that - just as there is strength in staying to defend and strength in leaving everything behind - there is strength in going in headfirst and strength in staying behind.

That being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

She was tethered.

And all she could do was worry.

Claire's hand hovered over her phone sitting on the kitchen bench and she caught herself, purposefully pulling herself away and over to the sink where a pile of dishes were waiting.

Reading the news would bring no relief, she knew, only reports of more people evacuating homes, an ever-increasing number of people missing and warnings of extreme weather forecast for the days ahead, all guaranteed to intensify the sense of helplessness that had been hovering over her ever since Jamie had left.

It was a feeling as hot and sticky as the heat itself - and one she had come to hate.

In all her thirty years, she had seen and done many things. She had served with an army, graduated medical school and worked in the most adverse and trying conditions with Doctors Without Borders. She had been arrested during protests, been beaten, wounded, patronised and, at the worst of times, betrayed by those she relied on most. Most recently she had relocated to a new country, become a foster mother and survived childbirth twice.

Yet nothing compared to staying behind while Jamie went with the Rural Fire Service to the front line.

It had to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

Even now, two weeks after Jamie had received the call, she was itching to move. To take action. Drop Fergus, Faith and Brianna off with trusted friends and head for the hills. Literally.

She looked down at her gloved hands, covered in soap suds and clenched them tightly before opening them again to look at them plainly. There was so much more they could be doing - should be doing - other than washing multicoloured milk stained cups and jam smeared plates.

Respiratory problems, minor burns, heat exhaustion and dehydration, for example, were things she was well trained and equipped to deal with. But staying at home to look after the house and the children while her husband, friends and colleagues risked their lives during a state of emergency? Not so much.

Welcoming Fergus into their home had been both simple and easy. As an 8-year-old he had been happy to go wherever she and Jamie went, be it home or away, on a schedule or travelling across land and sea at only a moments notice. So much so, in fact, she had caught him attempting to stow away in one of the RFS trucks, adamant that he was not only old enough to go with the men but it would be beneficial for the team to have someone as small and fast as he around to help them.

Having Faith and then Brianna, however, had been something else entirely with periods of enforced bed rest, a near-death experience during birth and now being on maternity leave during a crisis challenging her in ways she had never expected.

She let out a sigh and pulled the plug out of the sink, deciding to leave the now clean pile of dishes to the elements in favour of giving in and scanning her phone for updates. Again.

‘Too Late To Leave’ the latest headline read and, just like every other time she came across those words, a shiver ran through her leaving goosebumps along her skin in its wake. Her throat tightened at the thought of something happening to Jamie or any of his team members and tears welled up in her eyes, from frustration or despair she didn't know.

Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

Not a moment too soon, Faith bounded through the kitchen door, hands full of colourful flowers pulled from the garden.

"For Mrs Cook!" Faith announced, holding out the bouquet proudly, her both smile wide and innocent, as Fergus joined them notably red-faced and out of breath.

"For Mrs Crook?" Claire corrected with a smile of her own as she reached for one of the clean cups behind her.

More than once she and Jamie had expressed to their foster son that caring for the little ones was not - and never would be - his responsibility yet the 11-year-old could always be found nearby actively looking after them, be it redirecting Faith’s attention when her antics turned dangerous or rocking Brianna’s crib when something startled her from slumber.

The least she could do, she figured, was refuel him at any given opportunity.

"Aye! Mrs Cook!" Faith repeated unfazed, her red curls bouncing eagerly.

"We haven't gone down to see Mrs Crook nor Mr Martin since the day before yesterday,” Fergus paused to gulp down half the cup and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We were thinking to take them some iced tea -”

“And flowers!”

“- and some flowers," Fergus added clearly, his eyes sparkling.

"That's a wonderful idea,” Claire agreed proudly. The days had been warm and at times the air so thick with smoke the normally busy roads were abandoned in favour of air-conditioned residences and she had made a point of regularly contacting their most at-risk neighbours just 'in case'. Such thoughtfulness from the children warmed a part of her, somewhere deep within her chest, that she hadn’t realised had grown cold. “I’ll get Brianna ready while you collect the fresh jug from the refrigerator."

On her way out of the kitchen she picked her phone up off the counter and slipped it into her back pocket before scooping Brianna up out of her bouncer and following the elder two children out the door.

"Come home to me, soldier," was the last thing she said to Jamie.

She would have to trust that he would.

"Keep the bairns safe," was the last thing he said to Claire.

He would have to trust that she would.

There was no point in worrying about things he had no control over, he knew. Not when the ash beneath his feet was like snow, covering every surface the eye could see, and flames in the distance reached heights he never imagined possible, producing smoke so thick it threatened the sky's existence.

To consume the very air they breathed.

Jamie pulled up his visor and wiped the ever-present sweat off his forehead with a dirty sleeve.

With moderate temperatures and low winds, they had expected to spend the day reinforcing containment lines in preparation for the days ahead, a much-welcomed respite from the gruelling 16-hour shifts they had been partaking in so far.

Just halfway to their assigned location in the National Park, however, they had received an urgent request for assistance in the Valley where a spot fire had taken the local crew by surprise. Together they had managed to protect all nearby buildings - including one he later found out was heritage-listed and an important part of local history - and were taking a moment to rest before getting back on the highway.

"Hey, Fraser! Catch!"

Jamie turned and caught the bottle of water in his gloved hands smoothly. He tucked it under his arm to take off his gloves before opening the bottle and lifting it to his dry, chapped lips.

"Taing," he called back, his voice still scratchy but strong, and lifted the now mostly empty bottle in a show of gratitude.

Left to his own devices for a moment more, he took the opportunity to look around as his heart rate slowed to a more reasonable beat. Except for their fleet of three trucks and two utility vehicles, each strategically parked to form a line of defence, the road was barren and the lack of wildlife combined with the eerie orange glow filtering through haze left him with an unusual sense of unease.

The very first time he had signed up to volunteer with the local brigade, he had been a young lad living in the Scottish Highlands, determined to follow in his late father’s footsteps, and in the years that followed learned from some of the toughest and most experienced senior members not only how to deal with the myriad of things they would undoubtedly encounter but what it truly meant to be a firefighter and part of a crew.

For some years now, he had considered himself both highly skilled and well informed, worthy of the seniority bestowed upon him and prepared for anything that would fall across his path. Yet, in all his years fighting fires, he had never experienced a summer like this.

It wasn't just the challenging terrain, unprecedented severe weather conditions or the growing number of losses that settled upon his shoulders, as heavy as the equipment they carried on their backs, that was testing him - threatening to push him beyond his limits.

It was also the first time the job had taken him so far away from his family. And for so long.

The first day or two had been easy with specialist reports, numerous briefings, allocation of equipment and the challenge of building a team under extreme conditions taking most if not all of his time and energy. But as they became familiar with the situation and settled into a somewhat regular routine, he found himself thinking of his family more and more. It was not uncommon for him to lay on a makeshift bed on the station floor in the wee hours of the morning, his body exhausted to the point of collapse but mind not yet following suit, and find himself wondering how they were or what they had been doing in his absence.

Even on their busiest days, when they stood on the front line, feet planted firmly on the ground, sweat running down their backs and hearts racing in their chests, they were there, not so much in conscious thought but a subtle sensation. As though something was pulling on him, reminding him that their mere existence provided him with purpose.

A purpose to fight, yes, but also a much newer purpose to come home.

At the signal of their Crew Leader, he drained the last of his water and climbed up into the cab of the truck.

Right now, they were headed into the unknown, their uniforms blackened and scorched in places before they had even truly begun. He didn’t know what they would come to face in the next few hours, how long this beast would rage or much damage it would ultimately cause.

All he knew for certain was that none of them were invincible, that what they were facing here - yesterday, today and tomorrow - was bigger and stronger than he and the crew would ever hope to be.

And he also knew he needn't worry.

He was tethered.

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #fan fic #jamie x claire #Jamie Fraser #Claire Fraser #fergus fraser #faith fraser #brianna fraser #firefighter au #modern day au #one shot

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newstfionline · 3 years

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Friday, October 30, 2020

U.S. refugee admissions (Foreign Policy) The number of refugees allowed into the United States in the coming year will be at its lowest level in modern times, after the White House announced just 15,000 refugees would be allowed settle in the country next year. According to a White House memo, 5,000 of those places will go to refugees facing religious persecution, 4,000 are reserved for refugees from Iraq who helped the United States, and 1,000 for refugees from El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras; 5,000 open slots remain, although refugees from Somalia, Syria, and Yemen are banned unless they can meet special humanitarian criteria. The future of U.S. refugee policy hangs on Tuesday’s vote: Former Vice President Joe Biden has promised to increase annual refugee admissions to 125,000, while the Guardian reports that a second Trump administration would seek to slash such admissions to zero.

Days From Election, Police Killing of Black Man Roils Philadelphia (NYT) There is a grim familiarity to it all. In the final days of a bitter election, it is a reprise of the terrible images that the country has come to know all too well this year: The shaky cellphone video, the abrupt death of a Black man at the hands of the police. The howls of grief at the scene. The protests that formed immediately. The looting of stores that lasted late into the night. It began on Monday, when two officers confronted Walter Wallace Jr., a 27-year-old with a history of mental health problems. A lawyer for the family said that he was experiencing a crisis that day and that the family told officers about it when they arrived at the scene. In an encounter captured in video that appeared on social media, Mr. Wallace is seen walking into the street in the direction of the officers, who back away and aim their guns at him. Someone yells repeatedly at Mr. Wallace to “put the knife down.” The officers then fire multiple rounds. After Mr. Wallace falls to the ground, his mother screams and rushes to his body. Mr. Wallace later died of his wounds at a nearby hospital, and the neighborhood exploded in rage. In the days since, dozens have been arrested, cars have been burned and 53 officers have been hurt. On Tuesday, Gov. Tom Wolf called in the National Guard. On Wednesday, the city declared a 9 p.m. curfew. And once again, the people in the neighborhood where it all took place were left to consider what had happened and what, if anything, could be done about it.

Zeta soaks Southeast after swamping Gulf Coast; 6 dead (AP) Millions of people were without power and at least six were dead Thursday after Hurricane Zeta slammed into Louisiana and made a beeline across the South, leaving shattered buildings, thousands of downed trees and fresh anguish over a record-setting hurricane season. From the bayous of the Gulf Coast to Atlanta and beyond, Southerners used to dealing with dangerous weather were left to pick up the pieces once again. In Atlanta and New Orleans, drivers dodged trees in roads and navigated intersections without traffic signals. As many as 2.6 million homes and businesses lost power across seven states, but the lights were coming back on slowly. The sun came out and temperatures cooled, but trees were still swaying as the storm’s remnants blew through. Louisiana Gov. John Bel Edwards said the state sustained “catastrophic” damage on Grand Isle in Jefferson Parish, where Zeta punched three breaches in the levee. Edwards ordered the Louisiana National Guard to fly in soldiers to assist with search and rescue efforts and urged continued caution.

Violent criminal groups are eroding Mexico’s authority and claiming more territory (Washington Post) Organized crime here once meant a handful of cartels shipping narcotics up the highways to the United States. In a fundamental shift, the criminals of today are reaching ever deeper into the country, infiltrating communities, police forces and town halls. A dizzying range of armed groups—perhaps more than 200—have diversified into a broadening array of activities. They’re not only moving drugs but kidnapping Mexicans, trafficking migrants and shaking down businesses from lime growers to mining companies. It can be easy to miss how much the nation’s criminal threat has evolved. Mexico is the United States’ No. 1 trading partner, a country of humming factories and tranquil beach resorts. But despite 14 years of military operations—and $3 billion in U.S. anti-narcotics aid—criminal organizations are transforming the Mexican landscape: In a classified study produced in 2018 but not previously reported, CIA analysts concluded that drug-trafficking groups had gained effective control over about 20 percent of Mexico, according to several current and former U.S. officials. / Homicides in the last two years have surged to their highest levels in six decades; 2020 is on track to set another record. Mexico’s murder rate is more than four times that of the United States. / Hundreds of thousands of people have fled their homes to escape violence; the Mexican Congress is poised to pass the country’s first law to help the internally displaced. / More than 77,000 people have disappeared, authorities reported this year, a far larger total than previous governments acknowledged. It is the greatest such crisis in Latin America since the “dirty wars” of the 1970s and 1980s. / The State Department is urging Americans to avoid travel to half of Mexico’s states, tagging five of them as Level 4 for danger—the same as Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq. President Andrés Manuel López Obrador has created a 100,000-member national guard to reclaim areas with little state presence. It’s not clear that will make a significant difference. Years of Mexican and U.S. strategy—arresting drug kingpins, training Mexican police, overhauling the justice system—have failed to curb the violence.

Many Cubans hope US election will lead to renewed ties (AP) Not so long ago the tables at Woow!!! restaurant in Havana were filled with tourists ordering mojitos and plates of grilled octopus. But as President Donald Trump rolled back Obama-era measures opening Cuba relations, the restaurant grew increasingly empty. Now entrepreneurs like Orlando Alain Rodríguez are keeping a close eye on the upcoming U.S. presidential election in hope that a win by Democratic challenger Joe Biden might lead to a renewal of a relationship cut short. “The Trump era has been like a virus to tourism in Cuba,” said Rodríguez, the owner of Woow!!! and another restaurant feeling the pinch. Few countries in Latin America have seen as dramatic a change in U.S. relations during the Trump administration or have as much at stake in who wins the election. Former President Barack Obama restored diplomatic relations, loosened restrictions on travel and remittances and became the first U.S. chief of state to set foot in the island in 88 years. The result was a boom in tourism and business growth on the island. Trump has steadily reversed that opening, tapping into the frustrations of a wide segment of the Cuban American community that does not support opening relations while a communist government remains in power. He put into effect part of a previously suspended U.S. law that permits American citizens to sue companies that have benefited from private properties confiscated by the Cuban government, put a new cap on remittances, reduced commercial flights and banned cruises. The president has also forbidden Americans from buying cigars, rum or staying in government-run hotels. A Trump reelection would likely spell another four years of tightened U.S. sanctions while many expect a Biden administration to carry out at least some opening.

Winter gloom settles over Europe (Washington Post) The clocks were dialed back an hour across Europe this week, and the long nights come early now. The hospitals are filling up, as the cafes are shutting down. Governments are threatening to cancel Christmas gatherings. As new coronavirus infections surge again in Europe, breaking daily records, the mood is growing dark on the continent—and it’s not even November. The reprieve of summer feels a long time ago, and Europe is entering a serious funk. Germany and France announced national lockdowns Wednesday to try to get the virus under control. The new measures are less restrictive than in the spring, and yet they face more resistance. People are no longer so willing to remain confined to their homes, venturing onto balconies in the evenings to applaud health-care workers. Many people remain scared of covid-19, but they are exhausted and frustrated—and growing angry and rebellious. In a sign of the times, the head of the World Health Organization recognized the “pandemic fatigue that people are feeling” but urged “we must not give up.” The smugness in Europe about having bested the Americans under President Trump is fading with the daily record-breaking counts.

Young and Jobless in Europe: ‘It’s Been Desperate’ (NYT) Like millions of young people across Europe, Rebecca Lee, 25, has suddenly found herself shut out of the labor market as the economic toll of the pandemic intensifies. Her job as a personal assistant at a London architecture firm, where she had worked for two years, was eliminated in September, leaving her looking for work of any kind. Ms. Lee, who has a degree in illustration from the University of Westminster, sent out nearly 100 job applications. After scores of rejections, and even being wait-listed for a food delivery gig at Deliveroo, she finally landed a two-month contract at a family-aid charity that pays 10 pounds (about $13) an hour. “At the moment I will take anything I can get,” Ms. Lee said. “It’s been desperate.” The coronavirus pandemic is rapidly fueling a new youth unemployment crisis in Europe. Young people are being disproportionately hit, economically and socially, by lockdown restrictions, forcing many to make painful adjustments and leaving policymakers grasping for solutions. Years of job growth has eroded in a matter of months, leaving more than twice as many young people than other adults out of work. The jobless rate for people 25 and under jumped from 14.7 percent in January to 17.6 percent in August. Europe is not the only place where younger workers face a jobs crunch. Young Americans are especially vulnerable to the downturn. In China, young adults are struggling for jobs in the post-outbreak era. But in Europe, the pandemic’s economic impact puts an entire generation at risk, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

3 dead in church attack, plunging France into dual emergency (AP) A man armed with a knife attacked people inside a French church and killed three Thursday, prompting the government to raise its security alert status to the maximum level hours before a nationwide coronavirus lockdown. The attack in Mediterranean city of Nice was the third in two months in France that authorities have attributed to Muslim extremists, including the beheading of a teacher. It comes during a growing furor over caricatures of the Prophet Muhammad that were republished in recent months by the satirical newspaper Charlie Hebdo—renewing vociferous debate in France and the Muslim world over the depictions that Muslims consider offensive but are protected by French free speech laws. Other confrontations and attacks were reported Thursday in the southern French city of Avignon and in the Saudi city of Jiddah, but it was not immediately clear if they were linked to the attack in Nice.

Germany does not believe Thai king has breached state business ban: source (Reuters) Germany does not believe that Thailand’s king has so far breached its ban on conducting politics while staying there, a parliamentary source said on Wednesday, after lawmakers were briefed by the government. Following a meeting of the Bundestag’s foreign affairs committee, the source said the government had briefed lawmakers that it believes the king is permitted to make occasional decisions, as long as he does not continuously conduct business from German soil. When asked about the status of the king, the government told the committee he has a visa that allows him to stay in Germany for several years as a private person and also enjoys diplomatic immunity as a head of state. Thailand’s political crisis has made the king’s presence a challenge for Germany, but revoking the visa of a visiting head of state could cause a major diplomatic incident.

China’s New Confidence on Display (Foreign Policy) The Chinese leadership is currently meeting in Beijing to set economic and political goals for the next five years. In the run-up to the plenum, speeches by President Xi Jinping and others have demonstrated a bold confidence that this is China’s moment. As economic policymaker Liu He put it, “Bad things are turning into good ones.” Despite the damage to China’s global reputation this year, its leaders seem to believe that Western economic weakness and mishandling of the coronavirus have created opportunities. That may be true, but it may also encourage dangerous overconfidence, as happened in 2009, when the Chinese leadership was convinced the economic crisis had significantly weakened Washington. That overconfidence is most frightening when it comes to Taiwan, where recent saber-rattling has again raised the specter of an invasion. Distinguishing signal from noise on Taiwan is difficult, but the traditional restraints on Chinese military action—fear of U.S. intervention, reputational damage, and corruption inside the People’s Liberation Army—have weakened. The odds of Chinese action in Taiwan increase if the U.S. election doesn’t produce a clear result, or if a lame duck President Donald Trump embarks on a scorched-earth program on his way out—since Beijing may be convinced that a distracted Washington has no will to block it.

#headlines #news

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years

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Datura: Prologue

Warning: The following story contains mentions of suicide, depression, anxiety, manipulation, abuse, and vivid descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this series will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

Datura: 0 I II III IV V VI Vll

“You once swore to me that whenever I asked you for a simple favor, you would do it. No questions asked. No hesitation, remember?” Jimin stood towards the edge of the bed staring at you with a lack of emotions you had never witnessed before. His dark eyes merely pools of emptiness. No remorse. Nothing. “You won’t break that promise now will you, baby?” His voice was so soft and sweet, as it always was and you knew that man would kill you and do it with the prettiest of words. As tears rolled down your face and you choked back a sob, you shook your head.

“That’s a good girl. See that is why you are our favorite [y/n]. You always do what you're told.” Taehyung’s mellow tone calmed your heart despite the current situation. There was a warning, a double meaning, in his words and you did not miss it. If you lost their favor, you were just like everybody else: useless, worthless, a waste of space. Jimin walked towards you with the delicacy of a dancer, his steps to light it almost looked like he was hovering. The way an angel might, but he wasn’t one. His lips brushed against yours as if reminding to remind you of why you were doing this. Why you had agreed to all this in the first place. They were both waiting for you to speak, to allow them to proceed with this inhumane ritual. All you could do was nod lightly, so as to not allow the uncontrollable sobs to break free from the cage that was your mouth. It was all the confirmation they needed.

“Let’s begin.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a bad habit and those tended to kill. All you were doing was dancing, desiring so desperately for the high to last forever. It never did. Usually, someone got to close and demanded your attention, forcing your feet back onto the concrete dancefloor and reality. Sometimes it was a stranger that accidentally bumped into you or the group of girls you’d tagged along with that night. The circumstance never mattered because it elicited the same response: an eye roll and a small “fuck off.” Due to safety concerns, however, you often had to succumb to whatever the group desired even if meant leaving after barely an hour had passed. Tonight would be different though, after six months in the city, you trusted your instincts enough not to get kidnapped, murdered, or sacrificed to a cult. Perhaps you were deluding yourself into the idea that this was normal behavior – seeking a release from everything. All responsibility, all pressures, the suffocating weight of it all that crushed you in your daily life.

It would be easy to blame others for your behavior. Particularly those who had raised you, but dwelling on the past only surfaced things and feelings you long tried to forget. It only worsened your anxiety. Only worsened the withdrawal. The feeling was never instantaneous: you sometimes found yourself on the dancefloor for hours until it hit, sometimes mere minutes, sometimes it would never happen. In those nights, came the pain, anxiety attacks, and existential crisis that seemed to desire to ruin you entirely. It never did, but it got closer to it every day. Yet none of that mattered tonight, for there was something in the air. The streets seemed emptier, nightlife quieter as if people were afraid to draw too much attention to themselves: it was a warning. One you would have headed if not for the need you’d felt since you had woken up. It was a feeling you had never experienced but that had you anxiously counting down the seconds until the sun went down. Once night came you would be permitted to escape into your own personal wonderland – too bad it would soon be perverted.

Passing through security was a breeze since you got to cut the line. They knew your face at this point; and though in the beginning, they tried to make conversation or even flirt once they picked up on your disinterest they stopped. It wasn’t even past midnight, yet the bar was overcrowded. You had considered a drink but there were simply too many people tonight and though you could be careless, you weren’t about to be entirely reckless. As you made your way to the dancefloor something felt off. There weren’t any words to describe it, but the feeling caused your entire body to behave abnormally. A nauseating feeling hit you, your mouth felt dry, and your heart pounded against your chest. There was a ringing in your ears that if you focused enough on it almost felt like murmurs. As quickly as it had come it left, replaced by a familiar want. The high seemed to come easier tonight. The DJ playing songs that you were entirely unfamiliar with, but that your body naturally responded to.

Finally, you felt the buildup; the sensation of transcendence outside of the material world. A blissful subspace you never knew existed until accidentally encountering it one night. Now it was your preferred drug of choice. These moments, as far and few as they were, gave you the will to live. What a pity you would be robbed of it tonight. You felt him before you saw him: cold eyes that penetrated through you. The meaning behind them eliciting dangerous behavior. When you opened your eyes, he was all you saw. Tall, dark brunette, with beautifully tanned skin that peeked out from under his collar. His sharp features eluded an air of importance and bourgeoisie you had never encountered before. He’s what you imagined Adam to have looked like if he existed. There were no words to be exchanged for he was too far away, sitting several meters away in a booth right at the center of the entire club. From there he would have a perfect view of everything, yet his focus was entirely on you.

It was unnerving, but you soon realized there might be something more as you felt the familiar tightening down there. As if he knew the effect he had on you, the man leaned back into his seat a devilish smirk carved on his beautiful lips. Who is he? “Don’t you know it's rude to stare?” Hot breath fanned against your ear and caused goosebumps to rise all throughout your body. Instantly you turned around to face your assailant but were left stunned. If the other man was Adam, then this one was so beautiful Eve would be jealous. His feline eyes were lined with charcoal and there was a sensuality he exuded with every breath he took. Completely enraptured by the sight of him, you failed to notice when he approached you again; overstepping any boundaries that might have been in place. You don’t exactly know how long you stood there gawking, most likely more than appropriate, but he seemed not to mind for he caressed your cheek softly. “Aw, baby. You’re so cute.” At his pet name, your cheeks flared up, causing a giggle to leave his lips. How is a man giggling this attractive?!

No time was given to dwell on it however, for he soon took your hand and entangled it with his; giving it a light kiss so as not to scare you. “Why don’t you join us? I’m sure Tae would love to meet you.” You were about to ask who Tae was until his eyes darted past your shoulder and over to where the other man was sitting. They seemed to communicate silently before his attention returned to you. It was as if your body reacted before you had time to process everything that was occurring, and the words slipped out of your mouth before you could understand the weight of them, “Alright.” This wasn’t like you. Normally once the high was over, you would call an uber and head home. Crashing into bed and sleeping peacefully the way you only in a state of euphoria. Maybe this was the beginning of a new bad habit, one that would lead to your untimely end.

None of that mattered though, for the smile given to you was enough to take you to heaven and back. The man guided you carefully towards the booth where Tae if that was his full name, was sitting. Though perched forward and anxiously waiting seemed to describe his posture much more. When you reached the booth, the man allowed you to go in first so that you would sit in between the two of them. Though considering how little personal space you had, squished would be a better description. The air around them was thick and tense, but you couldn’t tell yet if it was a bad thing or a good thing. Their focus was entirely on you and it made you incredibly uncomfortable, due to this you cast your eyes down allowing for your hair to lightly obscure your face. That didn’t last long as Tae placed his hand on your chin and pulled it up, its grip soft but firm. “Jimin, I don’t think she has any manners.” As your eyes widened, Jimin let out a hearty laugh. “Go easy on her, Tae. Baby is just shy, right?” The way Jimin pressed his entire body against you, just to whisper that last part in your ear had you breathless. He seemed to have picked up on this, for he made a pleased mhm as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Tae still didn’t look convinced and before he got even more upset, you felt the best thing to do was apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” It came out so soft, it was difficult to believe the men next to you heard it, but they did. Tae released your chin and gave you a polite smile, before casting his eyes down on your entire body. “What’s a girl like you doing out on a night like this? It isn’t safe.” Despite not knowing anything about the two men they inspired a series of emotions in you, that made your previous highs look like child’s play. “I came to dance. To forget.” Tae seemed pleased at your response, for he smiled again but this time it was a large boxy smile. Had you not been distracted, by the feeling of Jimin’s palm sliding up your clenched thighs closer to your core you might have died of shock at how innocent Tae looked. The actions of Jimin reminded you their intentions were anything but. “We can help you forget, baby. If that’s what you want?” Jimin’s words were like the sweet taste of Belladonna before you died. “All you have to do is let us know,” Tae spoke watching the entire thing with an amused look on his face.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

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toonpunk-game · 3 years

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Fluff Updates 4: Some Core Concepts

Well, it’s time for another one of these. We’re going to do a little housekeeping, first and foremost: we’re going to show you the currency of the world--the rainbow-colored Chromatic Dollar; the inkbloods, whose condition of is spoken of seldomly and somberly; and, rather belatedly, Toonpunks themselves! What is a ‘toonpunk’, how is it different from a ‘cyberpunk’ or a ‘steampunk’, and why would anyone want to be one? Read on and find out!

The Chromatic Dollar

If you’ve been in the open population for any length of time, you’ve probably seen or heard about the Chromatic Dollar—usually called “CDs” or “Hands”. This is the currency of the world today—not the only one, of course, but definitely the most important one. Almost everywhere you’ll ever go, hands are the preferred legal tender: you’re going to get paid in them, and odds are you are going to steal quite a few. So, for those of you who don’t already know, time to get yourselves learnt!

The CD is an asset-backed currency—which means that in theory, each bill represents a fixed quantity of ink. However, it’s not quite so simple as that (get used to that phrase, newcomers). Rather than being directly traded at a depository for ink, most CDs contains ink in themselves: each dollar is woven out of fabric, and tinted by being immersed a watered-down mixture of colored ink. When submerged in cold water, this ink can be drawn out of the bill, leaving it blank. As you may recall, inkish life needs a regular infusion of ink to survive. What this means is that chromatic dollars are, in fact, literal meal tickets: normal civilians can immerse them in cold water to bleed the ink out of them, creating a mixture that is substantial enough to maintain an inkish life form, but is not strong enough to be classified as a hazardous material.

Of course, even that is not quite so simple. Of the 7 CD denominations of CD—White, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Red, and Black—only 5 actually contain ink within them. The white and black CDs do not actually contain any ink at all, due to respectively being worth very little and being worth a really great big bunch. White bills are the “single unit” denomination—they represent precisely one “CD”. They are not actually dyed, and are simply desaturated colored bills. Their value comes from the fact that they can be traded in bulk to the Morbux cartel reclamation facilities in exchange for bills of greater worth. They are often used as a baseline currency for small transactions—specifically as tips in retail or service industries.

Yellow bills are the smallest denomination which actually contain ink. They each contain approximately 1/1000 of a milliliter of ink, and are worth 500 CDs. Other denominations are Green (1000 CDs, or 1/200 of a milliliter); blue (5000 CDs, 1/100); purple (10000 CDs, or .2 milliliters); and red (50000 CDs, or .5 milliliters). Black bills, like white bills, do not contain any ink in themselves; but unlike white bills, are worth such a ridiculously high amount that it is actually impossible to store that much ink in a single bill. Specifically, a black bill is worth an entire liter of ink, or 200,000 green bills—a whopping50 million CDs. Black bills are basically never put into circulation—they were only invented so that governments and mega-corporations would have an easier time arranging bulk ink transfers between each other. Instead of physically procuring and delivering ink en masse, they could simply transfer bills (or credit for a bill, more accurately) and redeem them with their bank of choice.

History of the Chromatic Dollar

The Chromatic dollar was introduced into circulation by Black Sea Banking in 2090, 2 months after the Frontier Development Bill permitted the production and exchange of company-owned currencies. While frontier companies were the primary beneficiaries of this provision (since it allowed them to reestablish the “company store” of bygone eras) BSB was the first major company to introduce private bills for widespread circulation. A limited run of black, red, and (now-defunct) orange bills were distributed to several of BSB’s partners in lieu of liquid ink; and then, after this initial success, BSB allowed its inkish employees to receive a portion of their salary in CDs instead of their normal currencies. The option proved enormously popular, since it allowed inkish persons to sustain themselves without making trips to dedicated ink depositories. Demand steadily grew, until an inordinately successful write-in campaign garnered 16.5 million signatures imploring BSB to introduce the CD into public circulation. After drafting the exchange rates, BSB began printing chromatic dollars for public use in 2092—and it was all uphill from there.

Now, just over 200 years later, the CD is the most common currency in local space. It’s traded on all civilized worlds, and a number of the uncivil ones as well. Wherever electronic infrastructure exists, the CD will soon follow—even to places as remote as Pluto. The only place it has not found purchase is on the frontier worlds, where efforts at civilization are often bowled over by six-pack wars, or other even more unpleasant things…

Inkbloods

In most materials, elemental ink is sparse—less than 0.002% of the total composition. In the Saskatoon municipal area, this number can go as high as 0.006. In human beings, this number skyrockets to 0.65%—the highest concentration outside of ink-based life forms. While this might not sound like much at a glance, it must be understood that even a small amount of ink carries enormous potential: differences of as little as .05% blood-ink-concentration have been shown to increase life span, muscle growth, and cognitive capacity by tremendous amounts—upwards of 20%, in many cases. Naturally, there is a tremendous temptation to use it as a performance enhancer—and it is here that inkbloods enter the equation.

An “inkblood” is any meatman who has a BIC of 2% or higher; and has maintained such for longer than 24 hours. The human liver can filter out small quantities of ink, much as it can filter out alcohol or other substances; but there are some people who deliberately maintain a high BIC for an extended period of time, for several reasons: at a glance, inkbloods are more physically able than most humans—the ink within their bodies swells their muscle mass to considerable proportions, and they often enjoy sharpened senses and longer lives. Furthermore, they often display an enhanced aptitude for illustration and inktek. However, there is a damning dark side to this: all inkbloods will, with time, invariably descend into utter raving insanity.

First among the inkblood degenerations, both in severity and in order of onset, is an immutable compulsion towards self-flagellation. Over the course of their derangement this will increase from such relatively benign things as discomfort with their hairstyle, to the wholesale removal of fingers, limbs, and eyes. While these compulsions never drive the inkblood to suicide, they will leave them hideously disfigured: while the ink will regenerate small portions of their bodies over time, any limbs or large internal organs removed will usually have to be replaced.

As of writing, no medical consensus explaining this phenomenon has yet been reached. Potential explanations range from acute derangement resulting from over-acuity of the senses, to a form of cognitive decline no more remarkable than mercury poisoning; but there are others on the fringe of the medical community, who whisper of a spiritual dimension to the ink--one which reacts poorly to prolonged observation...

Toonpunks

What is a “Toonpunk”? Most of you reading this will already know—but those of you from very isolated areas, or those of you who have just incarnated, may be unfamiliar. The word shows up often enough to return billions of search engine results; and it’s such a common talking point that a whole 3.5% of all current news articles feature it as their primary subject (according to Billiun analytics from 2302). It is a recognized word in over 500 languages as disparate as Russian, Urdu, Japanese, Quenya, and English.

Vernon Vernacular’s Living Dictionary defines Toonpunk thusly: 1. Noun. A person, most commonly young and/or of inky description, who commits criminal actions including theft, assault, vandalism, arson, murder, and jaywalking, as a form of protest or self-expression. 2.Adj. Slang. Of or referring to anger or disdain towards large corporations, incumbent governments, The Inkquisition, capitalism, or functioning society as a whole.

“Toonpunk” is a stylistic movement that began in the year 2045, though its roots trace back to a year earlier. During The Rabbit’s I-day gag spree, billions of people were astonished to learn just how much devastation had been wrought by one animal in the name of slapstick. Among them were numerous working-class meatmen, many of whom were disillusioned with the dehumanizing day-to-day existence of a late-stage capitalist world. Knowing that the single greatest act of vandalism and destruction in history was committed “because I wanted to” captured the imaginations of people who had very little power of their own.

As Bloody March carried on, the tension very rapidly became unmanageable. Nearly every country on Earth was struggling under the weight of an unprecedented refugee crisis, and a slew of freak environmental disasters. Many governments employed violent and reactionary measures which often only compounded the issues—most famously during the P-K massacre in Russia. By the end of the month, wide-scale riots were commonplace throughout most of the civilized world, and would not simmer down again for almost 3 years.

It was during this period that the first Toonpunks began appearing. Shortly after The Rabbit disappeared, a number of disparate gangs began emulating his unique brand of terrorism: prioritizing vandalism, property destruction, and public visibility over material gain. This form of high-risk-low-reward crime was described by many of its practitioners as a form of rebellion or self-expression against an increasingly bizarre and stifling world. This was most notably espoused by High Noon and the Longcoat Gang on April 1, when they defaced the side of the Thunder Tower Office Plaza and publicly lynched Thomas Thunder’s 2 youngest sons.

Toonpunk didn’t become a popular movement for almost 3 decades. After the Thunder Tower incident, it was generally regarded as a form of neo-terrorism; and it did not receive its Robin-Hood-Style grassroots support until 2084, when the new meatman generation spawned a vocal anti-Inkquisition counterculture. Nostalgic for their forefathers’ liberty of expression, the Confederacy of Classic Culture lead a brief but eventful series of public demonstrations. When the Ministry forcibly disbanded them three months later, its supporters were forced to adopt a more unconventional and direct form of protest—and so the modern Toonpunk mythos was born.

Today, Toonpunks are often regarded in the same way that hacktivists were in the 21st century, and beekeepers were in the 22nd—as a small minority working outside the law for the good of the people; and they are often romanticized in movies, television, and music. In the common parlance, “Toonpunk” is often mistakenly used to refer to any inkman criminal or gang, regardless of their ideology—much to the chagrin of its devoted supporters.

That’s enough about the philosophy side of things, though—how does this affect you? If you’re reading this, you are most likely a Toonpunk—or one of your friends is, or you stole this from one. Judging by the company you keep, we here at Electric Eye can tell a few things about you:

-You’re probably broke. According to our own research from 2300, 65% of self-identified Toonpunks and Toonpunk sympathizers exist within or just above the poverty band—with the remainder primarily coming from middle-class arcology families. 25% of those polled reportedly spent between 1500 and 2700 hands a month on food, with most of the rest going towards rent; and 70% reportedly have no form of personal motorized transportation. A small but notable minority of toonpunks exist within the upper strata of society—most having identified their lifestyle as a “gilded cage”.

-Your job is probably terrible. Most lower or middle class toonpunks in our poll were working temporary or menial jobs—usually as factory hands, miners, construction workers, data entry clerks, personal assistants, or retail employees. 60% were working part-time, while another 34% were working as day laborers; and 43% were additionally pursuing higher education on top of their job and illegal enterprises. Many from the upper salary bands described themselves as “not in employment, education, or training”—which has by itself lead to the stereotyping of upper-class toonpunks as either spoiled, bored sociopaths; or misguided activists.

-You could be doing this for basically any reason. When we asked our subjects what originally drew them to the toonpunk lifestyle, we received numerous different answers. Most of these fell into one of a few categories. 24% of those polled stated that they had been laid off or fired from their legitimate employment during a time of financial stress—commonly cited reasons were mortgage, children, or medical care. 22% did it for themselves, stating they liked it, they were good at it, and they truly felt alive. 16% stated that it was simply the way of life they had always known; and a further 16% maintained that they had no additional attraction to the toonpunk life, and were merely lashing out at a corrupt and unjust world.

8% were pursuing some form of revenge against an estranged friend, family member, or co-worker; and 7% took it on as a “one-time-thing” needed to pay a debt of gratitude, blood, or actual debt. 6% cited an intense criminal compulsion due to mental illness, or that they were simply drawn that way. 3.7% maintained that they were victims of one or more shadowy and malevolent conspiracies with city/world/solar-system-changing implications; and finally, 1.3% stated the belief that they were the pawns of extra-dimensional beings, for whom the whole of our universe is a work of simulated misery they created for their own twisted entertainment.

#cyberpunk writing #Cartoons #cyberpunk #worldbuilding #scifi writing

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jannasophia · 5 years

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Can you tell us more about Ronan? Like some info about all the kingdoms and places? Your worldbuilding seems so fascinating I’d love to know literally everything *heart eyes*

Anon, you have no idea what a can of worms you opened up here :DSorry in advance, this will be long!

Empire of Asturia

The empire used to be a small state simply called Asturia, until its then King grew a bit too ambitious, decided to expand his realm and declare himself emperor. After centuries of warring, marrying the right people, annexing and bullying smaller states into submission, the empire has become the largest nation in the history of the continent.The empire itself is split into smaller counties, duchies & land- and margravines, loosely resembling the shapes of their initial sovereign nations.Right beneath the emperor in status are the Princes or Fürsten. None of them own land per se, but those are the people controlling the fate of the empire. The senate made up of ‘ambassadors’ from the various territories now contained in the empire has very little power, and is more often than not a farce to make them feel like they have a voice in the capital.Even though the emperor rules alone, there is one person whose words may weigh even more: a True Immortal called Salain de Avennes, who has made Karisan his patron city.

Bregón

Once the counterweight to an ever hungry empire, Bregón lost much in the last war. Among those things were control of the Harrow (the main pass accross the Wilds), two regiments of finely trained soldiers (they walked too far into the Wilds and never returned) and their reigning King (assassinated by what many believed to be an old lady - nobody knows because they never got caught). The twins who inherited the throne were too young and inept to say the least. Now the crown is struggling while the merchants’ power grows with every passing day. The trade with Koshar is lining their pockets with gold, gold which they increasingly refuse to pass on to the reign - even though the king has tried to better himself after his sister’s ‘hunting accident’ (what a classic).

Dornhan

Not much to say about Dornhan, as it mostly consist of salt marsh, normal marsh, a few windy islands off the coast, hungry peasants and at least two to three kings at a time. Generally nobody knows what’s going on up there and nobody cares. They say a Bregón king tried to overthrow Dornhan once and returned home after walking 10 feet into the country.

Altarath

In Altarath the sun is blotted out every midday by an obstruction in the sky they call ‘Okirin’. Basically, there is a small eclipse every day.It’s a dark, mostly barren and harsh land, ruled by a True Immortal called Ashishkaia Anaetta Kladia, Queen of Altarath, The Eye of Okirin, who is almost worshipped as a goddess by some. The Altheli are a reclusive people, they are rarely found on the continent, but they are easily discern-able by their white pupils.

Norotvoi Islands

South of Altarath, the storm tossed Norotvoi Islands are also under the shadow of Okirin. The Norotvoi are excellent seafarers and explorers and the only people who somehow made something like a democracy work. A new leader is chosen every 6 years at a special gathering and every citizen over the age of 20 is allowed to vote (unless they stand on the deck of a ship).

Fervir

Fervir borders on eastern Asturia, and is a rather rough and archaic land. Early attempts by the empire to overthrow the state were thwarted immediately and so a peace treaty was installed, which both countries have kept to this day. It might be, because Fervir is mostly mountainous, with little means to grow resources, and their most notorious export is a steady stream of fearless warriors (getting a Fervir body guard has become somewhat ‘chique’ in Karisan). The country is divided between Arls, who rule their lands in family clans. The High Arl is seated in Falkanger, and is a chosen member of one of the many Arl families.

Lattvhila

Desperately cold and frozen, especially in winter. Nomadic families roam its tundra, who sometimes make the bothersome journey to Fervir, to sell furs, silver and whatever strange things they found under the ice.

Zaferya

‘The Bridge to the East’ is covered by steppe and desert, but that hasn’t stopped its people from building tall, tower-cities all over the planes. They always sit on top of a well, and the water is distributed evenly through a system that outsiders would describe as ‘this shouldn’t even work’.

Koshar

Koshar’s climate is rather subtropical, bordering on a desert farther inland. Its coast, however displays a much more temperate, mediterranean climate. Koshar is essentially a monarchy, lead by a man they call Adar-Malik. The Kosh are gifted artisans and craftsmen, and their pigments are in such a high demand that merchants travel as far as Norotvoi and Altarath to sell them.

Other important places..

The Wilds

The Wilds are a vast expanse of mountains and forest smack in the middle of the continent. They could almost be described as another realm, as nobody has been mad enough yet to claim ownership of them. That is why there is practically no border between Bregón and the Empire, except for a few mountain passes where the two nations meet.The Southern Wilds are a lot tamer, and not completely infested with everything straight out of your worst nightmare.

Norik

Norik, or formerly the sovereign confederacy of Norik, is now a province of the Asturian Empire, located in the north and bordering to Fervir. Its governmental system used to be similar to that of Fervir, only that it was ruled by Lords, who only chose a High Lord in times of crises. Such a crisis arose when the Empire came knocking on their door. Before the decisive battle, however, a treaty was strung up and the High Lord blackmailed into signing it, which turned out later to enable the Empire to take over the whole confederacy without compromise.

Naturally the entire population felt betrayed in such a way, that the first rebellion formed a mere week after the annexation. Ever since the Empire has been trying its hardest to gain control over its most unruly province, which continues to revolt.

Cara Reka

For some ungodly reason Cara Reka escaped the Empire’s notice when it was looking for new conquests. Maybe because the little kingdom was too small, or maybe because it lies even behind Norik and the generals just couldn’t be bothered anymore, or maybe because their cavalry is deadly and made up of Rivenhorses.

Kirchenfal

Kirchenfal used to be an independent, theocratic country, west of the Southern Wilds. They believed only priests are permitted to study and learn magic (it’s called the Pulse but that’s a whole other thing so I’ll just call it magic here), which put not only the role of leadership, but also their military and guard into the hands of their church. Back then the land used to be rich with Hakkon Silver - a mineral that shortly enhances one’s magical abilities - and when the Empire started expanding its eyes soon fell upon them.Led by greed, a general named Alos de Brevi raided the country, overthrew the trifecta church, ordered every priest and monk executed and mined the silver until there was none left to be found. Despite the Karisan court being in uproar over the cruelty of the undertaking, the money and power the silver brought soon quieted most critics and Kirchenfal has reluctantly been absorbed into the empire as county palatine, ruled by the de Brevis. Robbed of not only their main source of income, but also of their ruling class and any way to learn magic, the Falese soon surrendered to their fate, although sparsely uprisings occur and many young people flee west into Bregón or south into Koshar.

Taifa of Inezra

The little mass of land at the very western tip of the continent had been gifted to a Kosh general called Inezra al Yanin, who aided the King of Brégon in a battle against southern raiders. It was subsiquentially named after her, and when she retired from the army she set up residence in a small port she re-named Abderral. Under her patronage the small seaside town soon grew into a bustling harbour city and a haven for artists and scholars. Its library surpasses even the Karisan Archives in size and its five universities are renowned, not only on the continent, but also overseas.After al Yanin’s death, her son took over ruling the taifa, holding up his mother’s values.

...I think I’m gonna stop here lmaoYOU SAID YOU WANTED TO KNOW EVERYTHINGThanks for asking haha ♥

#ronan #HYMNS #world building #asks #anon #long post

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uk-news-talking-politics · 4 years

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Stop shaming: This crisis calls for generosity, not denunciation

By Jonathan Lis

The last few weeks have been the most bewildering of our lives. The things we took for granted are now lost. The things we considered normal are now taboo. It has shown millions of people at their best: volunteering in their community, shopping for neighbours, coming together to applaud the NHS. But for all the altruism and kindness, it has revealed something else too - a profound national puritanism. Every week brings new public enemies. First it was the dog-walkers who had driven a short distance. Social media shamed them and individuals found angry notes left on their cars. Then it was the sunbathers. They were denounced for spreading the virus and Piers Morgan called for the NHS to deny them treatment. Now it is the people who walk together in the street or stop to greet neighbours. Daily reports emerge of passers-by shouting, swearing or even calling the police. It is always absurd when people declare that East German-style communism could never have reached freedom-loving Britain. You suspect that if it ever had, a quarter of the population would have signed up as secret informants in the first month. Then, of course, we have the police themselves. They are performing a vital role, and many have been subjected to unacceptable abuse. But a minority of officers are behaving poorly. Individual forces have talked or tweeted about checking shopping trolleys and non-essential supermarket aisles. People have been forced off park benches, as though the legislation specifies you cannot sit down while exercising. One man was arrested when attempting to deliver goods for a vulnerable neighbour. And some police have appeared to invent entirely new laws about how many householders are allowed out at any given time and how far from their homes they are permitted to travel. This behaviour not only brings individuals into close proximity with one another. In its obvious over-reach, it risks costing public trust in the police, and therefore in the regulations themselves. In short, it is not going to curb transmission of the virus. There are two distinct things happening here. The first is a moral policing of one's neighbours. The second is a gratuitously heavy-handed interpretation of the rules. They have numerous things in common. There is the culture of shaming. Twitter has been flooded with footage of people daring to visit parks, which remain open, even as the vast majority observe social distancing. Various police forces, meanwhile, have boasted about their punishments and posted pictures of the offences. Then there is the loss of proportion. Of course there are good reasons to stop people sunbathing, as it encourages others to do the same and theoretically creates crowds. But it is not itself the enemy. It is not in the same league as hosting a barbecue or a football match, and in most cases it is safer than going to the supermarket. Equally, it may not be ideal to drive a short way to take exercise, as the car might break down, but it is far safer to take exercise in an open space than on the pavement, and accidents can also happen when people stay at home and do DIY. Third is the failure to empathise. For many people this will be the most stressful moment of their lives. They may feel lonely, claustrophobic, anxious about their health or livelihoods or those of their families. Many do not have gardens and will be suffering from their lack of personal space. Some will be in agonising or abusive relationships and need some time to themselves. And others really will need to sit down when they exercise. But what this really amounts to is a culture of prohibition. It produces an opportunity not to enforce public health but uncompromising obedience. It focuses not on stopping the virus, but pleasure. Individuals see a ban, often subjectively interpret it, then judge others for not following it as overtly and faithfully as they are. It is as though some people are competing to see who can be the most hardline and unbending, and casting anyone less rigid as directly responsible for people's deaths. Of course, the most important thing is that the regulations are there for a valid reason and people should follow them. I am not advocating sunbathing. But, aside from washing one's hands, only one thing will stop the virus: maintaining physical distancing. If people are guided by that one central rule, there is no reason why they cannot sit somewhere quietly on their own or with members of their household. If the area becomes too busy, notices should (and in some cases already do) ask people to go elsewhere. If people are endangering safety, engagement may prove more constructive than condemnation. A compulsion to judge should not trump an instinct to understand. The problem in recent weeks is that we have focused on the rules themselves, not their purpose. Much like Brexit before it, they have become something we do because the government tells us, not because they are valuable on their own terms. This is the basic tenet of an illiberal democracy, which places people in service of the law, rather than the law in service to people. Sitting down while exercising will not spread the virus. Nor will going for a second run. The government recognises we need to go to the shops and actually recommends we take exercise. The key is to stay safe while doing the things that we are advised or need to do. People are trying to get by in difficult circumstances, and we should respond with generosity and pragmatism. We can stay both mentally and physically healthy if we keep our distance, wash our hands, and treat ourselves and one another with kindness. The lesson of suffering is not that everyone should suffer in solidarity. It's that we make the most of life, safely, while we're lucky enough to enjoy it.

#coronavirus

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livvyplaysfinalfantasy · 5 years

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I'll say that although 4.3 and the subsequent ending of the Doma arc will never be among my favorite parts of XIV's story, I've nonetheless come to see it differently.

A lot of this change - or maybe acceptance - came from some heartfelt discussions I had with friends and acquaintances following 4.3's release. By far the most insightful things I heard about the story were from female and nonbinary friends who endured domestic abuse similar to Yotsuyu's. Usually, I try my utmost to amplify others' voices when it comes to observations that have changed the way I interact with a story; given the sensitive nature of these themes, though, I'd instead like to open this bit of coverage with an acknowledgement that a lot of what has shaped my thoughts on this arc has been seeing how it has affected those closest to me - for better and for worse.

Now, 4.3 opens with a lot of the same things I greatly disliked about 4.2 - including a truly bizarre moment early on in which Yotsuyu telling Gosetsu to take off his clothes while still having the mind of a child is played off for laughs. That said, it can't be denied that 4.3 makes much more of an effort to show Yotsuyu's point of view than 4.2 ever did from the very beginning, even going so far as to show the player that Yotsuyu's memories of the atrocities she committed are returning to her in bits and pieces.

And Yotsuyu's initial response to seeing flashes of cruelty that she doesn't understand is to go out of her way to help Gosetsu. When he offhandedly mentions persimmons from Namai, she slips out of the Doman enclave to head for Namai and bring him back a persimmon herself. As a result, the people of Namai see her face and recognize her as the woman who brought them so much grief - but with Hien's intervention and the young girl Azami's forgiveness, a crisis is averted. Nonetheless, though Azami brings Yotsuyu a persimmon, she's more startled than ever at the horrible things she's starting to remember herself having done.

From here on out, the story again ratchets up the cruelty directed at Yotsuyu. Asahi's master plan for bringing back Yotsuyu's memory is to reunite her with his parents - her biological aunt and uncle, who abused her throughout her childhood and exploited her as an adult. Clearly this interaction upsets Yotsuyu more than any of the others she's had: whereas she was able to protest against Yugiri and Hien and even the villagers of Namai, her encounter with her adoptive parents is enough to nearly make her dissociate. Through it all, her only motive is to ensure that she brings Gosetsu his persimmon; Asahi, though, threatens her with the promise that she will "come back" to them - and takes back the mirror he gave to her at the end of 4.2.

As the others ponder over the changes that have taken place in Yotsuyu and what this might mean for Asahi's peace negotiations with Doma, word arrives that Yotsuyu has disappeared from the enclave again - for the second time in one patch. It's absolutely nonsensical as a plot development that she wasn't being guarded, but at this rate, I didn't expect much from anyone's writing after the last patch had Hien write off a slaver with "it's not my place to judge."

When you go to search for Yotsuyu, you find only her adoptive parents lying dead in a pile of rubble, and you receive a vision through the Echo of all that transpired.

Yotsuyu, her memories having returned in full, ran away with the intention of killing herself. Then Asahi's parents appeared at the last second. Asahi's mother berates her - "You're the bane of our existence, Yotsuyu! A font of misery!" - which brought several of my friends to tears. Asahi's father discusses openly his plans to once more sell Yotsuyu into sex slavery. Those words are all Yotsuyu needs to hear for her bitterness and anger to return in full at 35:20:

Yotsuyu: Ah, my beloved parents. No sooner do I wake from gentle slumber than the world returns in all its cruelty. Yes, this is how it always was. How it was meant to be. To the very depths have I sunk, my soul steeped in spite and rotten to the core. The self-righteous hide behind "justice," but I need no such mask. Father. Mother. Was it not you who made me into this monster? Who taught me the truth of this miserable world?

And with that, her first action upon returning to her "former" self is to kill her abusive parents.

Initially, I was of the mind that it felt cheap and wrong to delve so deeply into such an intimate portrayal of abuse - that this scene was just one more insult to add to Yotsuyu's heaping pile of injuries. It also felt to me, going through this scene for the first time, that the story had simply set Yotsuyu up to fail: an entire patch in which it was emphasized that any chance she might have had at a new life was now moot, because players were made to see that she likely never had a real chance at redemption if even she thought of herself as being "rotten to the core." And yet a friend confided in me that they found this scene not just satisfying but even empowering in its own right: a woman's abusers are portrayed as the monsters they are, and that woman can have her revenge against those who made her life a living hell.

And after rewatching this scene, I can't argue with that point.

As soon as the bodies hit the floor, who should emerge from the shadows but Asahi, who planned all along for Yotsuyu to murder his parents - and this time, he offers her the means to achieve "a deeper vengeance" against those who have wronged her. She accepts, of course. The one thing that strikes me revisiting this patch is the parallel between this scene and the one from 4.0 in which Zenos breaks down the last of Fordola's confidence in order to prompt her toward joining the Resonant Project.

You relay your findings to Hien, who then relays them to Gosetsu offscreen. Regardless of what the consequences of Yotsuyu's reawakening may be, however, you agree that the peace negotiations cannot be permitted to falter.

#LPFFXIV:S

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247locksmithtx5-blog · 5 years

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#24/7 locksmith Cincinnati Ohio #emergency locksmiths Hamilton #car locksmith Hamilton #emergency locksm

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thecrisisblog · 5 years

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Ripple Effects of an Academic Crisis

(Photo Credit: National Lampoon’s Animal House, Universal Pictures, 1978)

There is a metaphor in the law called “fruit of the poisonous tree.” Simply stated, it describes evidence that is obtained illegally. If the tree is tainted, then anything and everything — such as fruitful evidence — that comes from that tree is tainted as well, and cannot be used. Even if that evidence could convict or exonerate someone. It’s simply inadmissible.

Which brings us to two questions no one has yet fully addressed about the widespread college admissions cheating scandal, known euphemistically as “Varsity Blues”: First, what should happen to the students who gained admission to colleges and universities and medical schools through the illegal acts of their parents? Should they, too, be deemed “inadmissible?” Should the students be penalized, especially if they had no knowledge or participation in the illegal acts of their parents? Is this what’s meant by the sins of the father, and should the inequity of those parents be visited upon the heads of their (perhaps) otherwise innocent sons and daughters?

As a crisis manager whose clients over the years have included major colleges, universities and medical schools across the country, I have helped selected bastions of academia wrestle with even thornier problems. And it’s not easy. Peoples’ — innocent peoples’ — lives are on the line.

Some might say it’s a dilemma worthy of Solomon. Maybe.

But consider this: What happens to the innocent children of, say, bank robbers? If the parents are later caught after the crime has been committed, and the children had no knowledge of the crime or any direct or indirect participation, do the kids get to keep the loot or the things the loot bought if their parents are later carted away in handcuffs? Certainly not. How is that any different from the college cheating scandal? I submit it’s not.

But wait, you may cry: What is there to be given back? Actually, quite a lot. For starters, there’s the admission itself, which has a substantially high actual and intrinsic value, especially from an “elite” school. Should the student be permitted to stay in school?

No.

I hear talk from schools saying each instance will be decided on a case-by-case basis. That is a fool’s path that will lead to bigger and more complex crises down the road.

And it is a certain route to negative press and major litigation. Why would any school want to open itself to that hornet’s nest?

Expulsion, for starters, should be a no-brainer, across the board. If the student herself did the actual cheating and was caught, she would be held accountable and most likely expelled and no one would question that decision. I submit the same rules — and punishment — should apply. And if you think about it, what punishment could be worse than parents having to explain to their child that they were kicked out of school because their parents cheated to get them in? What possible “extenuating circumstances” could exist that would justify allowing any of these scarlet letter students to remain at school?

And how do you remedy the pain and suffering of those otherwise qualified applicants who were denied admission to their dream school because a cheater took their spot? You cannot, except perhaps by making a comeuppance example of those scions of the wealthy and entitled. And that example is expulsion, pure and simple.

Second, the schools that were involved have a new and even more onerous crisis burden. They have unwittingly devalued their own best prize: a diploma. What makes one school’s sheepskin so coveted over another’s is the perceived difficulty in obtaining it. School’s go out of their way each year to boast about their low acceptance rates. This year, for example, for the class of 2023, Harvard (not named thus far in the cheating scandal) had nearly 43,000 applicants, and its acceptance rate stands at an all-time low 4.6 percent. Yale (which was named in the recent Justice Department announcement) boasts a low 6.3 percent acceptance rate out of more than 35,000 applicants. That hard-to-come-by degree has historically been worth big bucks in the job market. But if it should become viewed as merely an expensive plaything acquired by overly-rich and overly doting parents for their otherwise unworthy kids, its value would drop sharply and fast.

And what about those who have already graduated? Should they be spared repercussions? You can answer this yourself: What should happen to a lawyer who in later years is found to have paid someone to take the bar exam in his stead? What would the Bar Association do? There would certainly be a proactive move to disbar the cheater. And how would you feel if you learned that a doctor who was about to operate on you cheated to get into medical school? Has your confidence level just plummeted as you are being wheeled into surgery?

The ripple-effects of this academic crisis will be felt for many years to come. All schools — whether named in the indictment or not — face a crisis of confidence. Schools that were named need to shore up their weaknesses and let the world know the changes they’ve made for the overall integrity of the institution. They need to assure the world that going forward, admission to the school cannot be “bought” by wealthy miscreants. They also need to announce that they have ousted those who obtained admission fraudulently.

Schools not named should tread carefully and not give in to the temptation to brag or boast that they or their faculty were not involved. I don’t believe any school is completely innocent, and it’s awfully messy to have to recant a statement with egg on your face.

For I am confident that at some point, some disgruntled disappointed college applicant will peddle a tale of skullduggery in the admission process of even dear old Faber College that not even “double secret probation” can cure.

Colleges and universities have to work hard to rebuild their now-tarnished reputations, as do the “legitimate” students and graduates. This will not be easy given the information age in which we now live. For, in the pitched battle between perception and reality, perception always wins.

#Varsity Blues College Admissions Cheating Scandal

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