#hostile architecture needs to DIE

[united-under-skyfall]

the US, sending Eleanor Roosevelt to be the Chair of the drafting committee in charge of creating the Universal Declaration for Human Rights:

[Image Description: a screenshot from the United Nations website. It reads, "Article 25: 1. Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control." End of image description.]

the US: ok so how do we do that

the US: oh, i know! :)

the US:

[Image Description: 2 screenshots from google. The first says, "Types / Types of hostile architecture". In bold are the words "This list is far from exhaustive and is in no particular order." Followed by a bulleted list with many entries that trail off, reading:

"Slanted benches: More than just an uncomfortable seat. ...

Armrests on benches: They're not for your arms. ...

Rocky pavements: The reason behind unusual paving...

Spiked windowsills: Not just for the birds. ...

Segmented benches: An unusual design with a purpose."

The listing has a link with the text reading "More items..." and is from an article titled "15 Examples of 'Anti-Homeless' Hostile Architecture" from interestingengineering.com, November 22, 2020.

It then has another section titled "Cost / Hostile architecture cost" with a blurb that reads "It costs taxpayers $31,065 a year to criminalize a single person suffering from homelessness — through enforcement of unconstitutional anti-panhandling laws, hostile architecture, police raids of homeless encampments, and just general harassment. The cost of providing them supportive housing — $10,051 per year." The section is from an article entitled "The Cost to Criminalize Homelessness" from homelessvoice.org, May 10, 2021.

The second screenshot says, "Purpose / What is the point of hostile architecture" with a blurb that reads, "Hostile architecture is an urban-design strategy that uses elements of the built environment to purposefully guide or restrict behaviour. It often targets people who use or rely on public space more than others, such as youth, poor people, and homeless people, by restricting the physical behaviours they can engage in." This section is from the Wikipedia article for Hostile Architecture.

The last section is titled "Pros / Pros of hostile architecture" with a blurb that reads, "By preventing loitering, hostile architecture discourages drug drops and pushes out the homeless (CNN). These eyesores, which somewhat resemble medieval torture methods, allow hostility to permeate public spaces." This section is from an article entitled, "Hostile Architecture - Dear Asian Youth" from dearasianyouth.org, February 21, 2021.

End of Image Description.]

the US: omg we did such a good job these things totally match we definitely fixed the problem instead of making it worse or harming more people :)))

[Image Description: a gif of a teenager in a leather jacket water-skiing, holding the chord handle with one hand and giving a thumbs-up with the other, grinning at the camera. End of Image Description.]

#hostile architecture needs to DIE #and WHILE WE'RE AT IT #the poverty that disabled people are deliberately kept in and forcing them to choose between that or their medical benefits #ALSO NEEDS TO FUCKING DIE #and ALSO IS NOT IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE UDHR #before anyone says it YES i know it's not legally binding but it's SUPPOSED TO FUCKING MEAN SOMETHING #and considering how instrumental eleanor roosevelt was in creating it you'd THINK they'd take some steps to try to FOLLOW it and #ADDRESS THE ISSUES THAT ARE CAUSING THESE RIGHTS AND NEEDS TO NOT BE MET IN THE FIRST PLACE #instead of TRYING TO MAKE IT HARDER FOR THE PEOPLE MOST AFFECTED BY IT TO LIVE #bite kill fury rage #anti homeless architecture #hostile architecture #universal declaration of human rights #ramble

[tyrannuspitch]

controversial architecture opinion: i don't always dislike brutalism, but i do *specifically* think those pictures of Brutalism With Plants On It that people post to prove brutalism can be good are ugly as hell.

#combination of just not much liking foliage out context (eg i don't like houseplants either) #and 'for fuck's sake those plants are gonna die' #you need soil for plants. give their roots room to breathe!! #the thing about the dandelion-through-concrete aesthetic is that it's accidental and defiant. you can't do it on purpose??? #because that's just putting plants in hostile environments... *on purpose*??? #anyway if you want brutalism and nature you should put it BY THE SEA #'ohh this is our harsh unforgiving architectural style full of sharp geometry and sheer cliffs. hm let's make it a forest' NO YOU FOOLS #MANMADE CLIFFS GO WHERE THE CLIFFS ARE. YOU'RE LITERALLY DESCRIBING THE SEA

[luesmainblog]

I don't have the brains to get screenshots, but the video essay in my head is going off, so some thoughts:

Elemental makes a pretty cool example of how a group can be disabled not because of their bodies being inherently Wrong somehow, but because their environment is actively hostile to them. and this adds into how there are different layers of marginalization depending on where you live.

the city is Designed for water people. because of how water folks work, it is generally Safe for air and tree people, and it isn't difficult to make some minor accommodations for their needs, but it's still consistently obvious that this city is FOR water people. They can move around it much, MUCH more freely than any of the other groups existing here.

Fire people, having needs and concerns significantly different than the other residents, are in active danger in this environment, as well as posing an accidental danger to other residents. There are obvious examples of this, like the way that the aquabus overflows its channel whenever it passes by and this causes a huge splash of water down onto the fire people's hometown, but there are also subtle examples of this.

one scene that stands out to me is the one plant man's office; absolutely OVERFLOWN with plantlife. an accommodation(?) for him which makes the area mildly annoying to get through for water people, and presumably air people, but becomes a minefield for any fire person needing to visit him in person…. which appears to be the standard procedure for withdrawing a paper sent his way. this is kind of hard to explain but disabled people can sometimes find themselves in environments where they "cause damage" because the area was NOT made with them in mind; a fire person is at a risk of lighting those plants on fire, and a person in a wheelchair is liable to knock into your shelves, for the exact same reason: they have no room to safely navigate. and this can make a really shitty situation where the disabled person is blamed for "not being careful" when the real issue is that the area should have been planned better to prevent that sort of incident.

there's also the family visit, which, JESUS there is a lot to examine there, but the two big ones: One, the casual bigotry displayed by the little kids. one of them asks "if you fall in the water, will you Die?" and then proceeds to wiggle the chair, intending to knock her into the water and find out. sadly, this is an (only slightly) exaggerated thing that real kids DO if they are not taught about disabilities and generally taught some god damn manners. a kid might pull on an oxygen chord, or push your wheelchair without asking, try to steal your cane, etc etc. this is an issue of social structure; there's certain things we're Expected to teach our kids and others that are treated as Extra, and disability often falls into Extra unless it's the specific one grandpa has.

the other is how the family gives,,, absolutely NO consideration to her needs in this house. wade and ember are left to quickly figure out how she can safely navigate a water house on their own, expected to follow right away. thankfully they're able to find something easily enough, but it's the mix of architecture and social awareness that puts her in danger just BEING in this house.

more in reblog

#elemental #elemental pixar #ramble #long post

[wifflum]

Video games that suck and why they suck

Dark Souls spawned a wonderful genre with an excellent, new (besides Demon's Souls), combat system that has been improved to have everything you could think of asking for, by games like Stellar Blade. Dark Souls, even though it was first, however, sucks. Here's why it sucks.

Dark Souls was made by a self-proclaimed masochist who said, about the game, "these are ways I would like to die," and then set the entire game design team to the objective of killing the player at every opportunity. It's like hostile architecture as a video game. The game is trying to kill you at almost every step, but it had this amazing new combat system, so that was tolerated. Now the blind sheep that are the masses worship it.

Elden Ring and Sekiro, on the other hand, did not have this incredibly sadistic touch to them, and are far more fun to actually play. And these trainwrecks who love Dark Souls would say it's a skill issue, to not enjoy crawling your way to the next death spot like it's progression in Final Fantasy XIV raids only through a fu**ing level, let alone the boss fights, and would blame the victim of literal and admitted game design sadism.

Red Dead Redemption, Spiderman, God of War, and also Grand Theft Auto (at least the campaign) and Uncharted-- all of these games also suck. This is because they are not made with gameplay in mind, because the target audience hardly gives a sh** about gameplay and just wants an interactive movie. They are, as a popular and often contrarian video game critic put it, "ghost train rides". They are theme park attractions that are purely there to entertain from a distance, and not really to be interacted with like you would expect from a video game. Gameplay is secondary, and it's often almost tertiary it's so far from being considered important. That is why these games suck.

----------------------------

Another somewhat extensive area for video games to suck in, is the Fallout and Elder Scrolls type of games. These games, instead of making story so fu**ing primary that gameplay, the whole point of video games existing at all, is ignored, do the exact same thing with their open-worlds and RPG mechanics. Just imagine a turn-based game like Final Fantasy 7, only the gameplay that can actually kind of stand on its own is actually gameplay that sucks co** and could never stand on its own.

----------------------------

I play video games for combat. To have fun and display skill. Everything else is set dressing for that one primary thing, and games that suck either intentionally obstruct fun combat, like Dark Souls does, or might as well not even include it it's so bad.

-----------------------------

Some other games that suck are fighting games, because in order to get your ration of 3 seconds of neutral game per match, which might be pretty good but in my experience isn't anything to write to my girlfriend in jail about, you have to spend 8 million hours mastering filler moves that waste both players time and just drop the health bars to what they might as well be at the start, which is 3 hits until death.

Tactical RPGs are not that bad, I don't think, but dear God are they stressful sometimes. It's also slow and can get tiresome unless you personally are slow and tired and prefer that pace over action games.

First Person Shooters need defense options other than fu**ing sprint or better offense (throwing a flashbang is an offense action, as is laying a mine) for every situation, which Remnant: From the Ashes really put in sharp relief.

MOBAs, like League of Legends, need to be done differently rather than copying a game that had a barely passing grade on its combat system (DOTA 1 on Warcraft 3) because it took it from an strategy game where you're supposed to be spending 3/4 of your time managing your base and resources and only fighting a small portion of the time. Battleborn actually showed what MOBAs are capable of to some degree, although it didn't have dodges or anything, but got overshadowed by Overwatch which everyone either immediately regretted or regrets now since Overwatch is agony to play.

One game that largely sucked but did not entirely suck, contrary to what everyone and their goldfish will tell you, was Anthem. At one point it had a triple jump, triple dodge, comboing melee character that could frontflip into sniping something in the head or spraying it with submachine gun fire. Yes, that was motherfu**ing Anthem that had that, in the Interceptor Javelin, though the people in the other Javelins did not look to be having much fun.

The last games that suck, which I think everyone largely knows they suck, are Ubisoft games. Now Far Cry isn't that bad, because it still has a reasonable focus on gameplay, but Assassin's Creed games have combat that is almost as ass as Rockstar games' gameplay.

Just, all you have to do, lol, is take some reasonable approximation of soulslike combat, with an actual functional deflect if you include one, unlike Rise of the Ronin, and do whatever your little gimmick is on top of that. People will fall over themselves saying how amazing it is. Just make ACCEPTABLE gameplay with whatever your horsesh** is that your audience of nitwits loves, and it will be something as if from an advanced society in the future.

Although, I personally think the window for that is closing and it wouldn't be jaw-dropping anymore, with soulslikes branching out so much. All we really need now is a soulslike MMO and that'll be the kitchen sink, and I think it's rapidly approaching. All I would ask of someone doing that is that you model the PvP after Guild Wars 1 Random Arenas, and you'd have to study that pretty extensively because there's a lot of nuance that made it so good, but it was namely an extreme difficulty to combat, like you'd get from a PvE game set to Insanity difficulty, somehow enveloping the PvP experience.

----------------------

Anyway, that's how video games of today almost all suck. And it's because they're not really video games; they're either like a simulation of something, traveling or getting stronger, or just straight-up a movie, with video gameyness slapped onto the side like a sticker, with about as much effort put into the application. The games that are good, as video games and not interactive media, which is what a lot of these things should be distinguished as, ask the user to display skill and they make that display enjoyable and varied. There's a million ways to screw up the execution of that design or to excel at it, but only a few games even set that objective of good combat as an actual goal.

But, if it makes makes money it's fine how it is, fu** foresight and artistic integrity, and we must all keep churning out pig slop to the pigs.

#dark souls #battleborn #overwatch 2 #red dead redemption #spiderman #call of duty #remnant from the ashes #league of legends #warcraft 3 #dota 2 #god of war #elden ring #sekiro #fromsoftware #game design #hidetaka miyazaki #anthem #video games

[fadeintocase]

Was reading a thing about how Homestuck was a coming of age story for people growing up entirely on the internet and that it was one of the earliest stories to do so.

One detail I think that people miss about it is how in that era, early Homestuck seemingly unwittingly was dripping with its roots in the sheltered suburbanite domination of online culture pre-2010. Not just with the memes, but with the demographic assumptions. That the initial characters are all spoiled brats from beginning to end.

It begins in a way that is meant to be relatable and comfortable to upper middle class kids in the mid 00s, back when that was most of the only demographic that had the privilege of having their own computer in their own room.

It creates a setting in which these kids in well-off families are not just isolating themselves, where there is supposedly this otherworldly emptiness to the world around them that keeps them isolated, and where the privilege of their situations are like underplayed, seen as an annoyance or an obstacle. Dave and Jade have especially fantastical living situations, but John lives in a big generic suburb and Rose lives in a contemporary architecture mansion. It doesn't allow for uncomfy questions like "do they have friends at school?" because a deeper pain point for kids who lived on the internet back then is that no, they didn't, and never tried to. "is there anything material this character is lacking" in the beginning, no, they are surrounded by basically everything they enjoy. And "how did their family afford all that?" tends to be answered with "in a way that annoys me, ugh", which in my recollection was also the default attitude of spoiled brat suburbanite kids i knew in school.

And it creates that world as a default appropriate for that spoiled suburbanite demographic in that era, where like, obviously if you're on the internet all the time, your family is probably rich. Obviously if you're on the internet all the time, it's because the outside world is bleak and hostile to you in comparison. You don't mind the crazy wealth or the means to isolate away with everything around you that you want or need. Don't mind that. Think about how sad you are that you're on your computer all the time. Make that the bleak atmosphere you're trying to escape.

And make it so that when you're in a world that is supposed to be challenging you, you still have the means to make enough in-world money and surround yourself with everything you want. And every character gets this ability right away, and that sense of suburbanite material spoiled comfort is never challenged. Watching people die and facing heroic decisions are more fathomable in this story of coming of age challenges than having less than your privileged childhood provided you.

In a world a decade later where everyone and their grandmother in all walks of life from all continents has roughly equal ease of access to the internet, that fandom grew desperate to reinterpret the characters because they felt too bland and generic.

And that's because they were. They were based on a very nilla wafer type of existence that was all there visibly WAS on the internet at the time they were created. That's why the game is called Sburb. They were created to be relatable to the most suburbanitis-laden kids of its time. Alternia explores more kinds of status and living situations and how those ppl interact with online communities. However, the story doesn't seem to be sending up tropes about suburbanite existence, it seems to avoid pointing out it's obvious hallmarks to be more comfortable to a sheltered, suburbanite audience. As self aware as it got, I don't think it displays much of a will to question one's own ideas of default.

#randomly saw some tweets and have had this buzzing through my head while editing

[dolphin1812]

Hugo’s sympathetic to this order and its loss: of its general status as religion becomes less of a part of French society, of its nuns (as they die), and of its own structure (as the number of nuns is so small that they can’t keep all their traditions anymore). It’s horrifying to see how quickly this wears down the nuns:

“The burden is implacable, and remains the same for the few as for the many. It weighs down, it crushes. Thus they die. At the period when the author of this book still lived in Paris, two died. One was twenty-five years old, the other twenty-three.”

The strain clearly caused premature deaths, and it was likely psychological as well as physical. Praying “perpetually” is difficult with so few to make sure it’s done at all times, but it must also be very isolating, making the sleep deprivation (and the austerities) much worse.

At the same time, he’s very clear on another point: the convent had to go. Society no longer endorsed it, finding it so “rigid” that everyone came to “recoil” at it:

“At the beginning of the Restoration, the convent of the Petit-Picpus was in its decay; this forms a part of the general death of the order, which, after the eighteenth century, has been disappearing like all the religious orders. Contemplation is, like prayer, one of humanity’s needs; but, like everything which the Revolution touched, it will be transformed, and from being hostile to social progress, it will become favorable to it.”

“Progress” is overtly mentioned in the last sentence here; as social values were irrevocably changed by the Revolution, it’s impossible for the convent to return to its former status. In fact, it was destined to “die” because of the decreased status of religion. Its horrific aspects may have hastened this end, but there was no chance of it really recovering. It’s sad on the individual level (the suffering nuns), but, to return to the Conventionist, can the pain of individuals (whether they be kings or nuns) be compared to the structural injustices these systems inflict? 

Hugo doesn’t reject the convent entirely, either. He argues that both “contemplation” and “prayer” - its two main functions - are “human needs.” He also says that “demolitions” must be followed by “reconstructions,” implying that while the convent itself follows a cruel model, its goal is, in some ways, a noble and vital one. A similar organization that does not deprive women to this extent (possibly to please the wealthy, based on the story of a convent’s founding in the previous chapter; and limited to the wealthy, based on that same story) should arise in its place.

(It’s also very Hugo to use an architectural metaphor to describe this).

I really love this paragraph:

“In the meantime, let us study things which are no more. It is necessary to know them, if only for the purpose of avoiding them. The counterfeits of the past assume false names, and gladly call themselves the future. This spectre, this past, is given to falsifying its own passport. Let us inform ourselves of the trap. Let us be on our guard. The past has a visage, superstition, and a mask, hypocrisy. Let us denounce the visage and let us tear off the mask.”

History always serves a purpose to Hugo, and here, it’s an educational and political one. Knowing history teaches us how to avoid the worst of it; avoiding these wrongs is inherently political. The Restoration, for instance, may have been that “counterfeit” posing as the “future,” bringing back a political order (the monarchy) and a religious emphasis that could not align with the values of the populace for long. History can’t be too judgmental, as Hugo insists that while we cannot “understand all,” we should “insult nothing.” Still, this idea of studying the past with this goal in mind is inextricably linked to his notion of Progress, which stipulates that the world must develop in a certain way and that we must be aware of possible obstacles (with “masks” or not) to that.

Spoilers below:

Reading about the decay of the convent really underscores how vital it was that Jean Valjean decide to leave it with Cosette. The decision was obviously important in that it let her experience more of the world before she made any choices on how to live her life, and it’s a key instance of Valjean prioritizing her well-being over his own. However, it may have literally saved her life as well. If Cosette had become a nun to stay in the convent, she would have been 32 when there were no longer enough nuns for the prioress to be an elderly woman. She would have been older than the women who died under the strain of their roles, assuming that the strain wouldn’t have killed her too. Staying in the convent would have chained Cosette to an old, rotting social order that would have destroyed her. Valjean was already scarred by this order (through the bagne) in a way that he never fully recovers from; he saved Cosette from the same fate. 

#les mis letters #lm 2.6.11 #jean valjean #cosette #I am done with finals! so hopefully I'll be able to put more thought into these posts #although I genuinely know nothing about convents and probably couldn't elaborate if I tried #but now I just have graduation and will hopefully be able to write more once we're back to the plot!

[catiuapavel]

With Tactics Ogre re-releasing in less than a week, there are many battles I’m excited to re-experience and one of these is the dreaded yet thrilling...

Boed Fortress (CH3) - Neutral Route - Against Oz

I love this battle just as much as I love getting my fingers stuck in a door that was shut violently. Sometimes we need to need something to remind us we’re truly alive and that something might just be a nightmare-fuel migraine-inducing strategy level.

Boed Fortress is a particularly frustrating level, just in terms of architecture. You start at the bottom of a near unclimbable bastion, with a hard-hitting boss supported by healers perched high around him.You know you’re in for an awful time when you start at the bottom of a map but don’t worry, it gets better. Everyone’s favourite mission type, the dreaded rescue mission, makes an appearance. Just to spice things up, you have to rescue Cerya who is just a few tiles away from the boss and in the middle of all his troops, and she isn’t exactly keen on making it easy for you either. You could let her die but then Oz would get what he wants and it wouldn’t really feel like a victory.

This cannot get worse... Unless, maybe, we gave the unit to rescue another disadvantage... Say like a status effect that prevents her from going down too fast? This is exactly why Oz decides to cast Leaden on her.

This fight is your punishment for your half-backed decisions. You couldn’t go Lawful Route and you couldn’t commit to Chaos Route? Then suffer the consequences. But this battle is also why you should play Neutral Route tbh (that and the fact that Oelias and Dievold are wonderful, underrated characters that I will defend with my life)

There is something about this battle I’m excited to find out too: Tactics Ogre Reborn is based mostly on the PSP Remake, but with adjustments that feel vastly more reminiscent of its original SFC release. Well it so happens there is a minor difference in this battle from one version to the other. In the original Tactics Ogre, Oz casts Charm on Cerya (Who is surprised he can do this? He’s the most charming character in the game after all... 😬) whereas in the PSP remake, he casts Leaden on Cerya. So I’m curious to see what they will go with this time! I’m biased toward Cerya being leadened. If she’s charmed, she will climb down as fast as possible to attack you and that would make the battle marginally easier... We wouldn’t want that. 

Boed Fortress is a living nightmare, a masterclass in hostile video game levels and I cannot wait to have to restart it about 50 times. I hope it makes me cry a little.

#underrated best worst video game boss battle #tactics ogre

[bengiyo]

180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us Ep 7 Stray Thoughts

I got a lot of food cooking today, so we're watching this while two things are simmering. Excited to see how In handles Sasiwimol's return after last week's reveals.

In almost looks like he exorcised something with how drained he looks.

Ah the first lie: Obscuring Wang's role in the leg injury.

Sangkam, like the nurse in Romeo and Juliet, is the one holding this entire operation together.

It's kinda uncomfortable to see Sasiwimol gloating about winning out over BL dramas in front of two queer men, particularly when I suspect she knows about both of them.

She scoffs at the suggestion of making her next project about a young man falling for his uncle. The awkwardness continues.

Sasiwimol is clearly concerned about what In could have revealed to Wang.

This framing on the couch is amazing. Sasiwimol is holding on to In's wrist, almost as if she's unconsciously restraining him. Wang is resting a finger on In's other hand and touching his leg against his. He's also on the side with the crutch. To me it looks like Wang wants to offer support, but cannot do so obviously by looking at In.

Well this conversation went about how I expected. Mol happy that Wang wants to study, then mad that it isn't a field she approves of at a location where she can observe Wang. Now confused and upset about his admission about his feelings for In.

Ah, there you are, my beloved architectural bars. Will you be able to shield In from Wang's admissions?

Oh ho! The bars have a new ally: the line of the window panels.

Wang pushes past the bars and demands In justify his determination to stay closeted. I love Wang's assertion that the world never belonged to the homophobes, and that he will not wait for them to die to live his life.

This is incredibly hard for In, because I don't know how he can sort his old feelings for Siam and his new feelings for Wang when there's so much overlap.

I also feel for Wang when In shuts down like this and just doesn't talk.

I was very invested in the completion of this bridge, but we still need to install guardrails.

It's interesting, that on many levels I can see Mol's read on the situation and that Wang has perhaps misplaced his desire for paternal love with In. It's possible she's right, but Wang is 20 and has a right to figure that out for himself. I'm feeling rather mixed at the moment, but generally am on the side of letting Wang determine the path of his love life.

Noteworthy that Mol never asks In for any perspective or what he wants. She just asserts that he must help her make Wang "normal" again, and that her life is full of disappointment. In must help keep her from losing her son. This is where she loses me, and it is not a surprise that she turns hostile to In when he doesn't show enthusiastic support.

I try not to be harsh against Sasiwimol, but I am deeply morally opposed to her inherently need to suppress and control all of the men in her life.

Though this dinner is awkward, I love this lightning effect. Feels very much like a stage production. Like it's supernatural in origin.

Okay, this fight is intense, and for once punctuated well by sound. In is correct that Wang should be a philosopher. He drew out of Sasiwimol what the major problem was immediately. He refuses to go somewhere with her until she confronts his truth, to which she responded that she does not care about his truth and will continue to enforce her worldview.

Oh my goodness, I need to know the tea about the night Siam drove away. Wang has clearly carried this for most of his life.

Wang asking the questions that define the core conflicts in play here, only for both In and Sasiwimol to run away.

Absolutely incredible work from everyone this episode.

#180 degree longitude passes through us #Ben watches

[kenapiece-main]

Hey, hey. US-infrastructure ppl and authorities or whoever is responsible for making executive decisions in public social architecture.

PLEAAAASE make more spaces for ppl to just hang out in (semi)outdoors.

"Why, we got parks," THE ONES YOU DONT HAVE TO PAY FOR AND AREN'T IN BIG CITIES SUCK ASS

"There's no space" YOU HAVE NOTHING BUT SPACE, MIGHT AS WELL LET PPL HAVE SOME COMFORT IN HANGING OUT THERE (and replant flora as well)

"Who would want that" Literally anyone who likes to go outside from time to time (hint: almost everyone of your citizens) and would liek to NOT have to either pay or drive a shitload to be able to hang out in a nice space.

"But homeless ppl will take advantage-" go fuck yourself and die mr."we need to make benches more homeless hostile"guy

~ sincerely, european who's chilling in some sort of geometric stone art thingy rn where other ppl are also just hanging out, in the middle of the city

#joel ramblies

[knifefightscene]

About architecture that is just hostile towards disabled people. Literally old asian bathroom designs and some white dude was like we need to bring this back because squating is good for you i am gonna be honest with u dude u can squat whenever u like but many of us cannot do that shit we will die

#wars flashbacks to how TRAUMATIZING PE was

[kvhaani]

MUSE: KAINAAT ANSARI

Date written: early 2022

Short summary: This is set in an alternate reality earth in the 1800s. The names of multiple different kingdoms, continents and countries have been changed to reflect that. This starter focuses on Kainaat Ansari, an adventurous princess who escapes her ancestral home for the first time with her body guard and personal friend, Himmat Mohal.

Kainaat’s breath catches in her throat at almost everything she takes in. Bandonese culture is absolutely enthralling, she thinks, as her eyes drink in the complex architecture and the stunning clothing worn by the most prosperous of aristocrats in the magnificent ballroom. Gatherings of the most affluent in society is not a foreign concept for her; having lived her entire life in a palace a hundred times grander than this charming room, Kainaat has grown quite accustomed to such ostentatious displays of wealth and opulence as a normal part of life.

Despite this, the Chatron finds that she often needs to collect her jaw off the polished floor. So many new and wonderful rarities for her to behold in this room alone— if she weren’t so awed by every little detail, from the type of alcohol being served to the style of makeup being worn, Kainaat would surely feel small and out of place here. 

/That/ is a feeling she’s slowly familiarising herself with. 

When Kainaat had been planning her escape from the high-walled prison that was her ancestral home, she had mentally prepared herself for the fish-out-of-water feeling; after all, she would be leaving all that was familiar and known, all that was /safe/— only to travel to a location that she’d only ever read about in her favourite lessons. Kainaat hadn’t so much as left her home city of Iravat. It was where she’d been born twenty six years prior, and most likely where she would die, unless she took matters into her own hands and broke free from the royal family’s ironclad hold on her.

Himmat Mohal, a stoic old ex-seaman and her closest royal advisor, had been the only one she’d trusted to help her get out. He had taken her aside before the journey to explain how different her life was about to be. Himmat had tactfully made Kainaat aware of the fact that she’d never left the safety of Khalsa Palace; she had no real exposure to new culture; many foreign practices would come as a shock to her. Kainaat had been adamant on pressing forward with the voyage anyway. 

Clearly she’d underestimated /just/ how different everything would be. 

When she had arrived at Bando’s shores posing as the daughter of a Chatran diplomat (Himmat Mohal had such excellent acting skills, who knew?), she couldn’t stop herself from gaping at all the brilliant new sights and sensations, much like the fish from the aforementioned fish-out-of-water idiom. The bustling port itself was filled with so many new things for her to explore that she spent the first six hours of her life as a runaway animatedly rushing from one loud vendor to the next, sampling the various items they had to offer. 

Iravat isn’t close to the ocean at all, perhaps that’s why it’s the capital of the Chatra Empire— less risk of invasion from hostile enemies overseas. Unfortunately, it also means they don’t get to sample the kind of seafood delicacies denizens of coastal cities get to enjoy on a regular basis. The first time she had tried Yeoneojang at the port, and the flavours had burst to life on her unsuspecting taste buds, a dazed and overwhelmed Kainaat had wondered how she could ever go back to eating regular Chatran chicken dishes ever again. How she envied the Bandonese! 

By the time the sun began to kiss the horizon and the ocean started to reflect the gorgeous orange-red canvas painting the sky, poor Himmat Mohal had started drowning under the various items of clothing she’d purchased. All the vendors had retired that evening with much heavier pockets (and Himmat Mohal had retired that night with severely sore arm muscles). 

Kainaat could barely get herself to sleep that night; partly from the excitement of exploring the famous city of Cheonsang the next day, and partly from the dread of being found out. She had lived a remarkably sheltered life within the Iravat palace walls; Chatran tradition mandated that she remain hidden behind a veil until her wedding day. Kainaat’s unobscured face had never been seen by anyone who did not already live within close contact of the royal family, or men who were potential suitors, a fact that she would use to her advantage to extend her stay in Bando for as long as possible. 

Of course, there was always the threat of the Chatran Council sending envoys to bring her back by force but they’d have to find her first. She had left a goodbye note in flawless Chatran script on the satin sheets of her bed but had never mentioned where she would be going, or with whom. While she shudders to think what would happen if she and Himmat were to be caught, Kainaat believes the risk is worth it.

So why Bando, of all places? For one thing, it’s far away from home— at least according to the maps Kainaat had poured over in the royal library. She liked to study maps of foreign lands and distant territories, imagining what her life might be like if she were a sailor like Himmat Mohal used to be. Her favourite destination to dream about had always been Bando. 

Kainaat still remembers her first history lesson— back when she still had baby teeth and could barely reach the top of her study table— she would sit and listen to her tutors talk about the kingdom and its refined cultural traditions. As she grew older, Kainaat would listen in on chatter from the maids and traders frequenting the palace, excitedly conversing about the growing ethnic diversity in the city of Cheonsang. She would spend her days in the royal library, absorbing all the scrolls available on Bando— there weren’t many, but she liked to read the ones available to her over and over again, never getting tired of them. 

Besides the constant tours of the royal library, Kainaat also liked to sit in the courtyard with Himmat Mohal and listen to tales of his travels to the far away land. She would pester him with questions about the food and the people and his favourite landmarks to visit— to his credit, he’d always answer with patience, no matter how many times she would ask.

She doesn’t know when it had happened but after a certain point, she stopped going to the library to pour over the map and imagine herself in various different locations— Kainaat’s wishes of seeing the world dissolved and she soon began to imagine her life purely in Bando; in Kai’s mind, the kingdom became a place where cultures from all corners of Endal gathered and made a name for themselves. She wanted so desperately to be one of those people too. 

Now that she stands in the impressive ballroom, Kainaat breathes a gentle sigh of deep contentment. Dark eyes drink in the vibrant colours, barely-blinking so she doesn’t miss a single thing. The lively, upbeat music acts as fuel to the spirited energy radiating within the Half-Moon Hotel, vivacious characters dancing to instruments she has only ever seen in pictures. Hearing them in person feels surreal. The patrons engage in pompous discussions in various languages left and right, some she recognises and some that sound completely bizarre. Servers in sophisticated looking maroon waistcoats carry trays of exotic dishes, offering beverages and snacks in exquisite silver platters to guests without a drink in hand. 

Kainaat herself hasn't yet touched a drop of the stuff— Himmat Mohal hasn’t imposed many restrictions on her on the trip but the one decree he remains firm on is the ‘no alcohol’ rule— though judging by the way many of the members seem to stumble while they dance, or slur their words when they speak, she supposes she’s not missing much. 

She can’t seem to get enough of the different clothes adorned by the various guests representing different cultures. Kainaat herself is wearing a deep red chiffon saree adorned with delicate golden embroidery and decorative gold lace stitched onto the hem. It had been a little difficult to explain to the local tailor how to get the style right but with weeks of back and forth, he finally designed one to her liking. 

Kainaat’s extravagant accessories include matching gold and red chooriyan bangles, a gold bindi and red jhumka drop earrings, of which the left connects to her nose ring in an elegant arch known as a ‘naath.’ She wears an extravagant white neckpiece meant to draw attention to her collarbones and completes the look with various sized matching rings. 

Though she is no longer in Iravat, she is determined to represent her own culture to these foreigners too. The colour and quantity of a young woman’s jewellery in Chatra is meant to signify protection and prosperity, so while it is a little heavy wearing all this and walking around, Kainaat does her best to hold her head high and appear regal.

She still can’t believe she’s here in Bando, taking in an ambience that far exceeds her expectations and transcends the boundaries of her wildest imagination. It’s truly a dream come true. 

Just when Kainaat thinks she can’t possibly feel any more excitement, a strange loud noise ripples through the room, startling her. Kai jumps and accidentally bumps into Himmat, who shoots her an amused look in response to her spooked expression. He’s wearing an ivory-coloured Sherwani with a matching plain turban and a metallic Chatra seal. 

“What was that?” She asks in native Chatran, patting down her crimson saree as a deep embarrassed blush colours her cheeks the same colour.

“Look up there, rajkumari,” Himmat replies, pointing up to the mezzanine, where a man stands holding a mallet. “It’s called a Chau gong. Used to get attention.” 

“Well, it seems he has my full attention now,” she scoffs, trying to focus on the man’s words— Rubandic, she realises— instead of the feeling of her racing heart thundering against her chest.

Kainaat considers how refined he sounds, the velvety notes in his tone delighting a part of her that had always wondered what the language sounded like in its pure form, without her Chatran tutor’s accent.  

#KAINAAT #oc ; kainaat

[xtruss]

German Statesman, Oskar Lafontaine, Slams Hypocrite, Hegemonic and US’ Scrotums Licker EU Leaders' Spinelessness, Demands NATO's Dismemberment, Closure of US Bases

Oskar Lafontaine

— Ilya Tsukanov | Monday November 28, 2022 | Sputnik International

Germany has found itself reaping the consequences of the crisis in Ukraine, facing skyrocketing energy and food costs, recession and the danger of permanent deindustrialization as Washington and Brussels continue to call for more and more sanctions against Russian energy to try to “Punish 😂😂😂” Moscow for its military operation in Ukraine.

The United States and its allies have spent the entire period since 2014 preparing for a confrontation with Russia in Ukraine, Oskar Lafontaine, a veteran German statesman with over forty years of political experience under his belt, has said.

“Of course, I also mean the conflict in Ukraine, which began with the Maidan putsch in Kiev in 2014. Since then, the US and its Western vassals have been arming Ukraine and systematically preparing it for confrontation with Russia. Ukraine thus became a de facto, if not de jure, member of NATO. This backstory has been studiously ignored by Western politicians and the mainstream media,” Lafontaine told Deutsche Wirtschafts Nachrichten in an interview published Sunday.

“For more than 100 years, it has been the declared aim of US policy to prevent German business and technology from merging with Russian raw materials at all cost. It is perfectly clear that, if you take this history into account, we are dealing with a US proxy war against Russia which has been prepared for a long time,” Lafontaine said.

Crop of Spineless Leaders

Lafontaine, who has worked under Willy Brandt, Helmut Schmidt, Helmut Kohl and Gerhard Schroder, and served as president of the Bundesrat, minister president of Saarland, minister of finance, and leader of Die Linke and the SPD, blasted the current crop of German and European leaders for going along with policies which have brought Berlin to the brink of disaster.

“It is unforgivable that the SPD in particular betrayed the legacy of Willy Brandt and his policy of détente, and did not even seriously insist on compliance with the Minsk Agreements,” the politician said, referring to the 2015 peace agreements meant to restore peace to the Donbass.

Lafontaine slammed the German government over its limp-wristed response to the destruction of the Nord Stream pipelines, which he characterized as a “declaration of war on Germany.” It was “Pathetic and Cowardly” of the federal government to try to “sweep incident under the carpet,” despite evidence that “the USA either carried out the attack directly or greenlit it,” the politician said.

“It was a hostile act against the Federal Republic, and not only against us, and once again makes clear that we must free ourselves from American tutelage,” Lafontaine stressed. The politician pressed his country’s leaders to force the removal of all US military bases and nuclear weapons from German soil, and called for the creation of a European security architecture with France, separate from NATO, which he called an “obsolete” alliance that acts as a “tool to enforce the US’s claim to remain the sole power in the world.”

Lafontaine admitted that freeing Germany from Washington’s grip wouldn’t be easy, but stressed that he can’t see “any alternative” to such a radical step. “If we and other European countries continue to remain under US tutelage, they will push us over a cliff to protect their own interests,” he said.

“To use a hackneyed expression: We are experiencing the birth pangs of the transitional phase from a unipolar to a multipolar world order. And the question arises whether we will have a place of our own in this new world order, or be drawn into Washington’s conflicts with Moscow and Beijing as American vassals,” the politician emphasized.

Recalling his decades of experience in politics, Lafontaine lamented in decades past, German leaders, “at least in some conflicts, had German interests in mind, and did not throw them overboard in anticipatory obedience” to Washington. “You need to have a backbone when you are the head of a country. The image of Chancellor Scholz standing like a schoolboy next to President Biden when he announced that nothing would come of Nord Stream 2 was humiliating.”

Ukraine Disaster

Asked whether he believed Washington has achieved its aims in Ukraine, Lafontaine said that the answer was both “Yes and No,” with the principle successes being the ruined relations between Russia and the European Union, and the “Sidelining” of Berlin and Brussels “as the US’s potential geostrategic and economic rivals, for the time being.”

“They are setting the policies of EU states even more than before the Ukraine conflict (thanks also to compliant politicians in Berlin and Brussels). They can also sell their dirty fracking-derived gas, and the US defense industry is doing great business,” the politician said.

“On the other hand, they have not succeeded in ‘ruining Russia’, as [German Foreign Minister Annalena] Baerbock put it…overthrowing [Vladimir] Putin and installing a puppet government in Moscow to get better access to Russian raw materials, as was the case in [Boris] Yeltsin’s time,” Lafontaine said.

“And I have the impression that Washington has now realized that they are biting on granite here. Despite massive arms deliveries to Ukraine and the dispatch of numerous ‘military advisors’, Russia, which is a nuclear power, cannot be defeated militarily. In addition, Western sanctions are proving to be a boomerang: they hurt Western states more than Russia and will cause deindustrialization, unemployment and poverty. Working people in Europe are paying the price for the world power ambitions of a mad elite in Washington and the cowardice of European leaders,” Lafontaine concluded.

[ravndowling]

Top Latest five Minecraft Server List Urban News

different types of recreation modes and different recreation modes and. You can find Survival servers or a Resourceful server, or any of the different types of recreation modes.

And clearly grieved. You will also find numerous different types of day work to earn coins, along with a wealth of sports to take part in. One of the main rules of the server is the ability to make friends quickly. They will be your friends.

We've compiled a list of the best Minecraft servers, and within you'll find a variety of choices to look through and find one that is compatible with your preferences. Signing up for a server is really easy, much too because all you have to do is open Minecraft, enter the server's name as the title then paste the IP handle that you will see at the start of each entry in to the box beneath.

As with Minecraft Middle-earth, it's still in development and work is currently being performed on the Lannister bastion of Casterly Rock. Do you want to know your Winterfell from your Dreadfort It is possible to take part and help to build the following home of Loss of life and oppression.

The dream of the architect, Minecraft has actually been an amazing creative outlet for players who can build for their coronary heart's content, and all without the need of recognizing one line of code.

When playing on servers that use the match strategy the goal is to make money from in-recreation as a rookie and increase your

They provide massive online worlds where thousands of Minecraft gamers can compete or collaborate with close friends and frenemies in various online games. (Sources: Wikipedia, Minecraft)

For numerous Minecraft servers read more would be the ideal architectural paradise for people who are fond of online electronic Legos, a fantastic Imaginative outlet for gamers who enjoy making and designing almost anything. While Minecraft is a standalone server, it functions as an independent server, the online Minecraft servers allow players to create groups, team up engaging in exciting projects and, in many cases, manage their own contests. The most interesting part is that as fascinating portion is, they can do all of that without knowing of a single line of code.

It's not yet conclusive however it's likely to bring a lot of excitement to those who wish to be King for an entire day. We're still waiting to find out if Direwolves can be petted.

We have now custom-made plugins, a great Local community, and many other options that are exclusive to us. We've been continuously improving our server, introducing more options, and servers that are focused about gamers feedback.

The most well-known type of Minecraft servers. Also known as SMP (Survival Multi Participant), these Minecraft servers are authentic to a variety of facets of the original sport's survival one participant manner which allows you to free well being & die by receiving tumble hurt and being attacked (by mobs and players) or drowning. In the survival Minecraft server you need to ensure that you defend yourself from the elements and hostile mobs (Primarily Creepers), prior to the darkness falls.

Additionally, it is an Earth geopolitical activity way, so make sure to Verify that out. After you're done, why don't you take a look at the Herobrine environmental seed, which was discovered earlier in the calendar year? Minecraft servers

There's even a race called Turbo Kart Racers, which happens to be a surprisingly thrilling racing game that can pit you in opposition to other players to strive to get to the finish line first. It's great fun and they keep it updated so it's worth the effort.

#MINECRAFT SERVERS

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

i am once again posting about the very serious and real impact of extreme heat in climates not adapted for it

last year, the record-breaking heatwave in the pacific northwest killed at least 30 people in king county (the county where Seattle is) and an estimated 1408 deaths throughout all of western north america

these consist of the homeless and/or poor and elderly, almost entirely

the people who die in heatwaves are the people without access to air conditioning, fans, water, the ability to stay indoors, the ability to not do physical labor, etc, and whose neighborhoods have aspects of poverty and environmental racism that make them worse in the heat (lots of concrete, little greenery, bad infrastructure)

(the prevalence of hostile architecture and anti-homeless people sentiment in seattle and portland does not help)

most homes in this region do not have air conditioning. historically, it wasn’t needed. the last 10-20 years have brought new summer high temperatures that didn’t used to be normal. this region has high humidity and does not cool significantly over night. the low overnight temperature is typically about 20 to 25 degrees lower than the daytime high. this makes heat feel worse than the same temperature in a more desert-like area with lower humidity and lower overnight lows.

this is climate change happening. this is climate change killing people right now. it’s not in the future. it’s here right now.

take people seriously when they talk about extreme heat. it’s a serious issue

#every time this happens i get so angry #especially by the reactions of people from areas like the south #where heat is normal #YOU GUYS HAVE INFRASTRUCTURE FOR IT #YOUR REGION IS SUPPOSED TO BE THAT HOT #IT ISN'T NORMAL HERE #IT'S NOT SILLY THIS IS LITERALLY ACTIVELY KILLING PEOPLE RIGHT NOW

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Altered Carbon- Out of the Past (1.01)

Pairing: Nova Griffiths (OC) x Takeshi Kovacs

Summary: When Nova is contracted for a new job, she's introduced to a part of humanity's past. The job seems to be a bust, but it becomes clear that it's anything but.

Warnings: mentions of suicide!, cursing, guns, rebirthing(?), sword+knives, blood, mentions of shitty parents

Word Count: 6441

“Just…” I sighed, looking out through the droplets of rain on the windows of the bus stop, “I just want you to be safe, E.J.”

“I know. I will be, Nov. I promise.”

“Alright, good. Look, bug, I’ve gotta run.”

“New job?”

I snorted, looking at his grin on the holographic screen. “Possible new target, yeah.”

He nodded. “Promise you’ll be safe too?”

I nodded right back, a smile on my face. “Promise, E.J. Love you, bud. Talk to you later, yeah?”

Another nod. “Go.”

I sighed as I checked the time.

Shit.

I was going to be late if I didn’t haul ass. I flicked the display of the watch away and pulled my helmet on. I straddled my bike and kicked the stand up. Hopefully, this payout would be worth it.

***

“Justice! Let the dead speak! Justice! Let the dead speak!”

The chant became static as I pushed my way through the crowd, and up the steps of Alcatraz prison. Lieutenant Ortega from the local police department had reached out and told me she would give me a ride up to the Bancroft residence.

“Griffiths!”

I popped onto my toes and saw the lieutenant waving me down. A blond man stood next to her, his face angry, but eyes seeming disoriented.

“Ortega, hey.” I held a hand out for her and she gave me a firm shake. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last twenty minutes.”

“These people are something else. Nova Griffiths, you’ll be working with this gentleman here.”

“Nice to meet you.” I stuck my hand out, and he did the same.

“You shouldn’t have come back!” A man shouted over my shoulder, cutting my new partner off before he could start his sentence.

The crowd’s chant changed, “No resleeving!”

“Well shit, let’s get outta here.” I gave Ortega a grimace, letting his hand drop.

We began to push our way back through, dodging the picket signs and the face painted protestors. A man with white and black markings on his face took a step towards us and pushed me out of the way. I stumbled backwards, and my partner reached out, preventing me from falling off my feet.

“You will not be forgiven!” The protester spat in his face.

I used the existing grip on my arm to pull myself back in front of him. I spat in the protester’s face and shook my partner’s grip loose.

“Well, that’s gonna keep him busy a while.” My partner guided me to walk in front of him as we continued to push through the crowd.

***

“Spirit savers and Afterlifers. 653 failed, and still they can’t stop yelling.” Ortega spoke.

“What is 653?” He asked, looking up from the paper.

“Something about spinning up murder victims to testify who killed them.” I kept my eyes on my feet, feeling nauseous.

“Why wouldn’t you spin them up if they’re witnesses to their own murder?”

“Archdiocese says you only get the sleeve you’re born with. Once it dies, they spin you back up for anything, even to identify your killer, your soul goes to hell.” Ortega looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

“I think no one in the archdiocese has ever been murdered.” He looked out the window, and then to me. “Nova?”

I snorted, finally looking up. “I think they’re all full of shit.”

He fell quiet as he observed the city. I studied his silhouette as he stared. The sleeve was handsome. Strong features, a strong jawline, a deep voice. Light colored eyes and swept-over hair.

“So what were you in for?” I asked, trying to get a sense of why he was so silent.

“Ah, little bit of this, little bit of that. Blew some shit up and killed some people.” He caught a look from Ortega in the rearview. “Some people just need killing.” He grinned.

I felt a grin rise on my own face, but Ortega didn’t seem to share the amusement.

“And how do you decide who deserves to die?”

My partner shook his head with a small sigh. “Depends on the day. I mean, anything can set me off. Interstellar dictatorship, genocide, people who talk to much.” He looked over at her for the last part before letting out another sigh.

I giggled, and Ortega shot me a look.

“Right now I’m feeling pretty hostile towards Laurens Bancroft, whoever the fuck he is.” He pulled something from his pants pocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Bancroft, he’s one of the first founding Meths.”

“What’s a Meth?”

“You don’t know what a Meth is? How can you not know?” Ortega chuckled. “You're dressed like one.”

“Like I said, I’m not from around here.” His demeanor changed.

I eyed him. He was fidgeting with his hands. Ortega went on, reciting something from the beliefs of the Meths. I decided to unbuckle myself and slide into the middle seat. He took notice and looked down at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“How long have you been under?”

He looked away, sighing again.

“How long, man?” I whispered again.

“Two hundred fifty years.” He didn’t look my way again.

“Shit.”

We busted through the clouds, and I slid forward, still unbuckled. He caught me by the hood of my jacket before grabbing my upper arm, pulling me back into my seat. I swallowed my pride and buckled back up.

“They call it the Aerium.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Guess they don’t have this where you come from either, huh?” Ortega gave a teasing smile.

She guided the car to hover over the property as we sat in silence. He readjusted himself back in his seat, and Ortega seized the silence once more.

“So, where were you born? Home planet, that kinda thing.”

“Not here.” He was dead-pan.

“That’s a little vague.” Ortega chuckled.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s my abuela. She always said, Kristin, you can find a way to talk to anybody.”

“Especially when they’re trapped in a car with you.” He shot back.

She looked forward with a sigh, and I stifled another giggle.

“Our quick and messy little lives are so small to them. They build their homes up here so the clutter of our existence is out of their sight.”

We only shared a look in the backseat.

***

The landing of the hover-car was rough, accompanied by various quick remarks.

“Come on, last chance. Just give me a name.”

“Takeshi Kovacs.” He got out of the car and straightened out his clothes. “Look me up.”

Ortega immediately did so while I scrambled out of the car after him.

“Holy shit. Is that why…”

Kovacs glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“You can’t be who you say you are. All the Envoys died.” Ortega tried to catch up with us as she shouted.

“All except one.” Kovacs caught me by the arm, pulling me to stand behind him.

I peered around his frame, only to see Bancroft’s multiple goons with their guns pointed toward us.

“Not another step, Ortega.”

“Aw come on. I’m Bay City PD and you know it, Curtis.” Ortega continued to walk toward them. “So lower your weapons and tell me where your boss is, because I really would like a fucking word.”

“Lieutenant Ortega, you’re trespassing on private property. Apparently, you’ve stolen one of our limos as well. I could have you shot.”

Ortega snorted. “Yeah, go ahead. Try.”

A police vehicle landed to our left, and Kovacs covered me a bit more with his own body.

“Why did you drive the Envoy? Isaac was supposed to do that.”

The police car door opened, and a man in a suit dragged a boy out.

“Look, I’m not drunk, okay? I was just loosening up a little. Let go of me.”

“We picked him up on a DUI.” The man explained to Mrs. Bancroft.

“Which is how we came into possession of your vehicle.” Ortega explained.

Mrs. Bancroft whispered something back and forth to, presumably, her son. She turned back to face us. “This is police harassment.”

“Yeah.” Ortega scoffed again. “There’s your kid, there’s your car, here’s your mercenary, and there’s your… new pet terrorist.” She gestured towards Kovacs, annoyed. “You’re welcome.”

“Bounty hunter, not a mercenary.” I scowled.

She walked past us, and Kovacs scoffed this time. “The terrorist can hear you. I’m standing right here.”

“Yeah, good. Cause we’re not done, you and me.” Ortega snapped at him before getting into the police car. I inched my way out from behind Kovacs until I was standing next to him.

Mrs. Bancroft chuckled as she walked toward us. “Forgive me. I’m Miriam Bancroft. We’ve not been properly introduced.”

She gave Kovacs a weak handshake, followed by a snake-like smile my way.

“Welcome to Suntouch House.” She turned on her heel, and we followed.

***

“Shouldn’t that be in a museum?” Kovacs asked as we walked under the branches of a large tree.”

“I have a weakness for Elder civilization artifacts. I collect them, among other things.”

“This must’ve cost a fortune to ship here.”

She hummed as Kovacs reached for one of the lower-hanging tendrils.

“A few lifetimes, as well. But cost was no object. This is the only Songspire tree on Earth. No one really knows what they are. They could’ve functioned as part of Elder civilization architecture. The largest ones ever recorded are thousands of meters high.”

The look on Kovacs’ face was one of recognition. “I know. I’ve seen them.”

“Stronghold. Of course.” She nodded. “Laurens is in his study. I’ll show you up.”

As if voice-activated, the elevator doors to her right slid open. Kovacs and I eyed each other before following her into the small room. Something felt off. We stayed silent as the elevator began to ascend. I kept myself tucked in between him and the corner, and Miriam stood opposite of him. She continued to eye him before beginning to play with her necklace. The metallic clicking caught his attention, and he looked up.

“Is it true you can look into a person’s eyes and know exactly what they’re thinking?”

Kovacs hummed. “No, Envoys don’t read minds.”

“What a pity.” She smiled.

Kovacs seemed uncomfortable, and the elevator dinged before anyone could say anything else.

“Good luck, Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths.”

Kovacs gestured for me to exit first, and he followed close behind. We let out simultaneous sighs as we heard the doors close again. We began to walk down the long hallway, trying to keep pace with each other. The study was silent when we walked into it, and I began to feel sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms Griffiths.”

We looked up to see Bancroft on the balcony of his study, drink in hand. “My apologies, my son failed to drive you here. You have to forgive my endlessly misplaced optimism.”

“That’s alright.” Kovacs looked back around the study. “The ride was very instructive.”

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure it was. Details are, after all, an Envoy’s stock-in-trade.” He began to walk down to the level we were on. “Or were, I guess I should say. Immersion and total absorb. Wasn’t that the term, hmm? Whatever answer you may seek, it is precisely where you are not looking.”

“You’ve read Falconer.” Kovacs finally spoke, eyes on me as I kept my own on him.

“I was alive during the uprising, yeah.”

“Yeah?” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “So was I.”

“Oh, y-yes, my apologies. It’s all in the distant past for me, but for you, of course, it’s all rather different. There are very few of us now, who saw firsthand what the Envoys could do. Ah-ha. Yes. A-And I have to admit that I had a grudging admiration for you. Trained by Quell herself to be the most formidable fighting force that the galaxy had ever seen.”

“Well, that would sound better if we hadn’t lost.” Kovacs quipped.

“Although this might, might interest you.” Bancroft handed Kovacs a small leather-bound booklet. “Oh, it’s all corneal streaming now. There’s something about the simplicity of holding the written word in your hand. The very-very heft of it. As men have done for countless centuries before us.”

Kovacs seemed to leave the current plane of existence as he flipped through the book, fingers gingerly running over the pages. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it at an auction. Supposedly, it is written by Falconer in her own hand. Judging by your reaction, it appears I might have got what I paid for.”

Kovacs snapped out of it, bundling the book back up and clearing his throat.

“Listen to me. I spent this entire morning being well and truly fucked around with, so, uh, let me be painfully clear. Some things can’t be bought. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here,” he glanced down at me, “but I, for one, cannot. Now, I didn’t ask you to bring me back into this world. In fact, I fought a war to stop people like you from happening.” Kovacs began to step closer to Bancroft. “So, if someone doesn’t tell me right now what the fuck this is all about… I might very well lose my temper.” He smacked the booklet into Bancroft’s chest, and I felt my cheeks begin to grow flush.

“Understood. Now, this is a full pardon, signed by the president of the Protectorate.”

Kovacs only gave a look of disbelief. “Power is a matter of influence, Mr. Kovacs. And I have had a great deal of influence at the UN. If you agree to my terms, your sentence will be reduced to time served. And then I will open up a very generous line of credit in your name. DNA trace accessible. And when the investigation is over, you may keep this sleeve or choose another. To your own specifications.”

Kovacs said nothing, and I hung back. Bancroft turned to me.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ms. Griffiths. Your parents will be pardoned as well.”

My heart immediately felt like it was going to blow a hole through my chest.

“Finally, I will pay you both a salary of 50 million UN credits. That’s a fortune. You can have any future you want.”

Blood kept rushing to my head, and my ears felt red hot. My vision blurred, and my body began to shake. I felt ready to pass out. Bancroft began to speak again, walking away this time. Kovacs gently put a hand on my waist and guided me to follow, sensing the loss of equilibrium within my body.

“All I ask is that you solve a murder.” Bancroft pulled a white sheet off a wall.

“Whose?” Kovacs stopped us both in front of the blood-splattered wall.

“Mine.”

“This is where I died. When Miriam found me, my head had been vaporized.”

Kovacs’ hold on me had grounded me enough for him to let go. He began to pace the room, and I looked over the brains on the wall.

“It’s an energy weapon?” Kovacs asked.

“Yes. A particle blaster. I keep one for personal protection in a biometric safe that only Miriam and I can open.”

Kovacs and I immediately shared a look, and Bancroft caught on. “Go ahead. Say it. Everyone else has. Either I committed suicide, or my wife murdered me.”

“But you’re still here, meaning your stack is intact, so… you must remember what happened.” The light hit Kovacs in a new way, and I noticed the scar on his sleeve’s eyebrow.

“I’m afraid it’s completely destroyed. RD’d, as they say.”

“So how?”

“Full-spectrum DHF remote storage backup?” I asked.

Bancroft nodded and Kovacs looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Do you know what that is?” Bancroft asked him.

“Yeah. Just never met anyone filthy rich enough to afford it.” Kovacs scoffed.

Bancroft seemed like his pride was hurt, but he shrugged it off. “Well. I need to show you two something.”

He led us up the stairs to where he had been lurking when we arrived. Kovacs and I shared a look as we followed. I had to double my pace to keep up with Kovacs, who was more likely than not over a foot taller than me.

“Sometimes I come up here when I have decisions to make or difficulties to face.” Bancroft began. “I think about the ancient explorers, back when one could spend a lifetime pursuing the possibilities of the Earth, the oceans, the stars.”

My eyes flickered around the maps and old news articles framed up on the walls. Humanity had landed on the moon for the first time over 400 years ago. These artifacts must’ve cost fortunes.

Bancroft sighed. “I was born in London. When I first moved to what was then, of course, known as the United States, it still had the faintest echoes of the new and brash culture that it once was.”

I glanced over at Kovacs, who was tinkering with something on one of the multiple desks. Bancroft said something about the age of adventurers, and I heard the beeping of a screen. I pulled my eyes from Kovacs and followed his line of sight. A telescope spun our way, and Bancroft gestured toward it.

“Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Kovacs and I shared another look, and he sensed my hesitation. He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back before taking a step forward, peering through the eyepiece.

“It’s a Protectorate satellite. Military grade.”

Bancroft hummed. “It is military grade, but it’s not the Protectorates. It’s mine.”

Kovacs’ face took on an unreadable expression as he straightened up, making a subtle effort to keep himself between Bancroft and I.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Every forty-eight hours, my stack is automatically needle cast to it.”

“So your current self has no memory of what happened?” I peeped up from behind the six-something, two hundred-something slab of muscle in front of me.

“No, whoever killed me pulled the trigger ten minutes before my backup went through.”

“Which means all of your memories from those forty-eight hours are gone.”

“Completely. There was an attempted hack on my satellite feed moments after my death. Somebody wants me dead.”

Kovacs peeked back at me over his shoulder. This time, I understood the look in his eyes. Who wouldn’t?

Kovacs took a breath before beginning to slowly circle Bancroft. “For all we know, you did try to kill yourself.”

“You just botched the job.” I deadpanned.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths, I am not the kind of man who would take his own life. And even if I were,” his eyes turned toward me with a menacing glaze over them, “I’d not have bungled it in such a fashion.”

Kovacs noticed and, once more, took a step in front of me.

“If I’d meant to die, I’d indeed be dead.”

Kovacs chuckled. “I don’t want your money. Or your pardon. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here, but I’ll take eternity on ice. Thanks.” He turned on his heel, and I scurried to stay at his side.

If he was out, then so was I. I didn’t trust Bancroft and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be stuck in this alone.

“You should take the day, Mr. Kovacs. Go into the city, remember what it is to feel alive. And then, give me your answer. O-oh, and please do take the book. Like everything else I’m offering you, it’s yours if you want it.”

Kovacs looked down at me, and I nodded up at him. Without another word, we made our way out of his study and, with the luck of Miriam not being around, out of the house.

***

In the car, Kovacs stared at his hands. He was beyond deep in thought. It seemed like a flashback that he was struggling to fight his way out of. He was adamant in his decision to be put back under. The driver was going to drop me off on main street in Bay City. I was going to see E.J. for the first time in almost a year. Kovacs would, as Bancroft had suggested, take a night in the city. After that, he would return to Alcatraz, and I would never see him again.

“Ms. Griffiths.” The driver caught my attention.

I looked up, seeing that we were pulled over on the main road. I blinked, and looked up at Kovacs.

“Guess this is goodbye?” I grinned.

He chuckled, but his own grin fell and he shook his head. “Don’t get involved with Bancroft again. I’ve been around long enough, and people like him don’t change.”

I nodded, watching his eyes as they deepened while he thought. “I won’t. Don’t worry about me.”

He met my eyes, and his grin returned. “Stay safe, kid. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, I suggest you keep it.”

I nodded. “I will. Be safe, Kovacs.”

“Takeshi.” He spoke as I opened my door, ready to get out.

“What?” I looked back.

“Call me Takeshi.”

I smiled, knowing I’d never see him again and that it wouldn’t matter what I called him.

“Goodbye, Takeshi.”

“Goodbye, Nova.”

***

I ran through the rain, dodging the group of teenagers doing the same. I shouldered the metal door open and ducked in, out of the weather. The air inside was stale and there were cobwebs in each corner of the lobby. After it had begun to pour, E.J. had called and asked me to meet him here. It looked like the hotel hadn’t been touched in a few years, give or take. More likely give.

“Eli?” I called out, clutching my bag over my shoulder.

“Ms. Griffiths, welcome.”

“Holy shit, it’s still you?” I turned to Poe, the AI that ran the place.

“It’s not like anyone stays here anymore. No need for an upgrade.”

I turned on my heel and saw E.J. sitting at the bar, drink in hand.

“Dude, you are nineteen, put that shit down.” I made my way over to him, stealing the glass of liquor and downing it. “Poe, stop giving my little brother alcohol.”

“He’s a paying customer, Ms. Griffiths.”

I rolled my eyes and held my arms out. E.J. stood from his seat and embraced the hug, rocking me back and forth from side to side. We had stayed at the Ravel Hotel on one occasion, for two months straight. Our parents were off-planet for a racing event, and they had left us with our uncle. He died in a gang-related shootout two days into our parents’ trip. After a week on the streets, we found our way into The Raven. We had gotten in contact with our dad, and he sent the money to Poe.

“How’ve you been?”

I sighed as he finally let go of me. “It’s been kind of crazy.” I sat down next to him.

“Tell me about it?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, Poe?”

“Yes, Ms. Griffiths?”

“Nova.” I corrected him. “You’ve known me since I was 12, you can call me by my first name. Can I get a-”

“White Russian, White Russian!” E.J. shouted.

“Eli, stop.” I giggled before looking back at Poe. “Fine. Two White Russians please.” I grinned.

I held my finger to the pay-spot on the bar, pulling it away once it clicked. Poe shuffled our drinks out, and I handed one off to E.J. The door opened, and Poe fluttered over to the front desk. E.J. and I didn’t bother looking over. Probably just some sick freak who needed to get his rocks off. He grinned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I rolled my eyes as he held the pack out to me.

“You can’t say shit, I’m 19.”

“Stop being cocky.” I pulled one between my lips and held it up to the lighter he held in his hands.

“Never.” He grinned again as he took a drag of his own cigarette. “So. Who’s the target?”

I scowled. “It fell through.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose a target? What happened?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned in. “You know Bancroft?”

E.J. snorted, blowing his cigarette smoke in the other direction. “The fucker who thinks he’s god?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Made this whole big deal about how his last sleeve got his brains blown out but his stack stayed intact.”

“Sounds like he just fucked the job up.”

I grinned. “Exactly what I said. So we split.”

“We?” He repeated, again raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you play well with others?”

“Shut up.” I shoved his shoulder. “It was gonna be a special case. Turns out god is just a fucking moron.”

The door opened again, and this time we looked up. There was no way that many people were just coincidentally here. I immediately rose and pulled E.J. along with me as four men and one woman, all with guns, barged in. I looked toward their intended target.

Takeshi?

“He won’t be needing a room. So much for Envoy Intuition. Voodoo bullshit.”

“Envoy?” E.J. hissed at me as I pulled him to duck behind the bar.

“Just shut up. Do you have anything on you?”

“What?”

“Weapons, Eli.” I hissed back.

He patted himself down, and I pulled my blade from my bag and flicked it open. It was the only good thing my father had left me with. A dagger that transformed into a sword with the flick of a wrist. Eli twisted a silencer onto his gun and matched my position.

“Pardon me, wayfarer, we’re in the midst of conversation.” I heard Poe.

“Shut up, you piece of digibrain shit. My microwave is smarter than you.” The man with his gun on Takeshi’s neck snarled.

“I just want one thing to go right today.” I heard Takeshi’s gruff voice.

“Clearly.” Poe sighed.

“Too bad.”

I began to creep up from my toes, onto my knees. Takeshi turned to face the first man, holding his hands behind his back.

“They said you’d be dangerous. I thought you’d be bigger. They made me bring all this backup. What a waste of my time. I don’t need them.”

By now, I was on my haunches, peering up over the counter of the bar. Poe made eye contact with me and gave the slightest shake of his head. Although he was just a bundle of code, Poe had become more human than some people. He cared about E.J. and I, in his own strange, AI way.

“Fuck you, Dimi.” One of the men hissed, only to earn a bullet to the head.

Dimi? I had to take this fucker down for sure. I’d never have to work another day in my life.

“I have to clean that up.” Poe sighed.

“What?” Dimi growled.

“Uh, he had it coming.” Takeshi nodded. “He was rude.”

E.J. had made his way up next to me, gun held tightly. Poe shook his head at us once more.

“I could take you myself without even breaking a sweat.” Dimi got in Takeshi’s face. “Move.”

He shoved Takeshi to the middle of the group, which meant that they all now had their backs to us. Takeshi caught my eye over the counter, and his eyes widened. I gave him a cocky grin, and E.J. looked between the two of us, confused.

“Good sir, I cannot assume host prerogatives without payment.” Poe urged Takeshi.

“You want to get him a hot towel?” Dimi taunted. “You’re some kind of moron, staying in an AI hotel. Possessive like a crazy girlfriend. No one stays in them anymore.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

Dimi hit the top of Takeshi’s spine with his gun, and the Envoy crashed to the ground with a grunt. I made my choice. I tapped Eli’s gun and pointed my sword toward the woman, who was the closest to us.

“For guest amenities, please, touch the screen.”

Dimi hit Takeshi in the face this time, sending him sprawled onto his back. Eli and I stood slowly, boots silent against the wooden floor. He was taller, and by now, far stronger. We nodded at each other, and he clapped a hand over her mouth. I knocked her gun out of her hand with my sword, catching it in my hand before it could clatter to the floor. The others were too distracted with beating Takeshi up to notice.

Poe’s cold eyes flickered between Takeshi getting his shit rocked and us. The woman struggled, and I made another quick decision. I cut her throat, and Takeshi began to speak at the same time, covering the gurgling sound. E.J. grabbed her now limp sleeve and dragged her to the side.

“It’s not voodoo, which, by the way, absolutely is bullshit. It’s a form of subliminal pattern recognition.” Takeshi began to explain, keeping his eyes ahead as he crawled back toward Poe.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dimi grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up, putting his gun to Takeshi’s face.

As Dimi continued to threaten Takeshi’s sleeve, if not his stack, E.J. and I continued our quiet routine. Another man down, another sleeve thrown aside.

“You know, it’s about the details.”

Another hit, Takeshi landing back onto the coffee table. I flinched, surprised it hadn’t broken under his weight.

“Where’s the big bad boy Envoy killer from the past?” Dimi shouted.

“Twenty seconds.” Poe reminded him.

I grimaced. I couldn’t make my way to the front desk and do it for him without being noticed.

“Fight, goddamn it! What, you lost your balls? Did something change while you were down?”

Takeshi got back to his feet, staging himself between the back desk and Dimi. “Nothing changed.”

Two kicks to the stomach. I had enough. I looked at Eli and gave him a nod.

“People like you are still stupid.” Takeshi ended up at the front desk, finger in the right place.

E.J. took his first shot, and Dimi turned at the small noise. I thrusted my sword through another man’s chest. Poe lowered the machine guns from the ceiling, and I dropped to the ground, ducking behind a column to keep myself safe. I watched as E.J. did the same. Poe cocked a shotgun and began to shoot people down, and Takeshi began to pummel Dimi.

One of Dimi’s people tried to back behind a column, having the same idea we had. I counted the rounds that Poe’s machine guns fired, finding the right timing. I ran from the safety of my cover and plunged my sword into the man’s chest, dropping his sleeve down into the open fire. The men dropped like flies, and I kept my eyes on Takeshi. He round-house kicked Dimi in the stomach, and I swallowed hard. It was rather difficult to deny just how attracted to him I was becoming.

“Nova!”

I turned toward E.J.’s voice, only to see a man much bigger than me coming my way, a knife in his hand. I struggled to scramble to my feet, slipping in the blood of the sleeves I had killed. I fell flat onto my back and held my sword up, hoping I had enough coordination to shield myself from his knife.

There was the sound of Poe’s shotgun, and the men fell down on top of me. I groaned as I felt his knife slice through the skin of my thigh. The only person left was Dimi. Takeshi had him cornered against a sofa, fist raised.

“Who sent you?”

Dimi laughed, and I coughed, spitting blood aside as E.J. came running, pulling the sleeve off of me. I felt my consciousness begin to slip away, and I struggled to stay awake. E.J. pulled me up to sit, letting my back rest against a column. I watched from behind heavy eyelids as Takeshi put Dimi in a chokehold.

“Who sent you?”

He squirmed his way free, putting himself in the direct way of the machine guns. Takeshi urged Poe to hold back, but Poe didn’t listen. Dimi went down, and Takeshi sighed heavily.

“Ask this of your microwave, miscreant.”

Poe became quiet once he sensed that he had done something Takeshi didn’t like. “Apologies. Your room beckons.”

“Bite this.” E.J. shoved his leather belt between my teeth and didn’t give me time to react before pulling the knife from my leg.

I couldn’t help the scream that tore through my throat. Takeshi’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to our sides, hand immediately coming to my shoulder. He ripped a sleeve off and immediately began to tie it around my wound, flinching when I did.

“Nova, what happened? Are you okay?”

I coughed, and blood speckled onto his white button-up. E.J. brushed my hair out of my face and I winced.

“Sorry, Takeshi.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fucker nailed me when he dropped.” I pushed out, feeling light-headed once more.

“I can stitch her up.” E.J. grabbed my hand, squeezing it to try and keep me awake.

“No.” I hissed.

E.J. knew what he was doing, but it always hurt like a bitch. Takeshi looked me over and sighed, pulling me off the column so that he could hoist me into his arms.

“I’ll help you hold her down.” He adjusted me bridal-style and stood.

“God, fuck you both.” My voice was scratchy, and the lights began to look spotty.

“Just rest, Nov. We’ve got you.” Eli whispered, and I let the darkness consume me as my sleeve went heavy in Takeshi’s arms.

***

“What happened to a meal, getting laid, and restacking forever?”

I looked up from my plate to see Ortega walking over to us, hands on her hips. Takeshi took a drag of his cigarette before looking her way.

“I got interrupted.” He downed a shot.

“Who the fuck are these guys?”

“I don’t know.” Takeshi shrugged. “But they knew me.”

“Di-”

“They called you by name? Are you sure?” Ortega cut me off and I sighed, going back to pushing around the pasta on my plate.

“Eat.” Eli urged me.

I sighed again. “I really don’t want to.”

“Kristin!” The man Takeshi and I had seen drop off Bancroft’s son was there, working on the scene. “Four of them are just local muscle, but this sleeve is registered to Dimitri Kadmin. Ulan Bator registry.” He showed Ortega the tablet in his hands.

Ortega punched his arm, excited. “We got him.”

“Got who?” Takeshi looked over at me.

“Dimitri Kadmin, hitman out of Vladivostok.” I cut Ortega off this time. “Otherwise known as Dimi the Twin. Does a lot of work for the yakuza. Bastard doesn’t trust anyone, so he double-sleeves.”

“Isn’t the penalty real death?” E.J. asked.

Ortega’s partner nodded. “We hold onto his stack, and sooner or later we catch the other version of him out there, and then he’s done.”

Ortega let out a string of curses, and her partner looked her way. “What, what’s going on?”

“Stack is fragged. Not enough left to spin him up to interrogate. Fuck.”

“You couldn’t just disable them?” Ortega hissed at Poe.

“I was coming to the defense of my first guest in about a decade.” Poe took a shot of his own.

“With enough firepower to bring down an airplane.” Ortega spat back.

“Hey, Poe is fully licensed for customer protection. You know that. Not to mention, I got fucking knived.”

“You’ve shot people for less.” Her partner reminded her, and she brushed him off.

“So, Dimitri’s a high-end hitman?” Takeshi spoke up.

“Yeah, top of the line.” Ortega scowled.

“Then Bancroft’s death wasn’t a suicide.”

“Of course. Because who would wanna kill an asshole like you?” Ortega’s partner scoffed.

“Plenty of people. A few centuries ago.” Takeshi lit another cigarette.

Resleeved in the body of a hard-core nicotine addict was how he had put it.

“Kovacs doesn’t merit this kind of hit unless they wanna stop him from looking into Bancroft’s death.” I put together what Takeshi himself had been getting at.

“Instead of blaming us, how about you apply your impressive policing skills.” Takeshi scoffed at them.

“Less than eight hours out of the tank, and you’re already up to your eyes in organic damage and real death.”

Takeshi grabbed his unicorn backpack, which I had learned an hour ago was full of illegal street drugs, kissed the top of it, and slung it over his shoulder. He held his hand out for me, and I looked between him and E.J. My little brother nodded at me, and I took Takeshi’s hand, letting him help me off the stool.

“I could find a way to arrest you two for this.” Ortega threatened.

“Yeah?” Takeshi taunted as he led us past them. “You make up your mind, we’ll be upstairs.” He helped me stay steady as we wove through the sleeves strung on the floor.

Ortega tried to come after us, and her partner grabbed her, pulling her back and telling us to leave it. My foot slipped over a piece of glass, and I winced, grip on Takeshi’s hand tightening.

“Here.” He held my hand with one of his and grabbed my waist with the other, letting my weight rest against his side.

I felt like I was going to faint as his muscles moved under his shirt, rubbing against my own body. He hit the button to our floor and closed his eyes. I felt his body relax, but his grip on my waist stayed firm.

“Takeshi?” I whispered, looking up.

He met my gaze.

“I need to take the case. These people know who I am. I can't put my brother at risk like that.”

He only nodded and looked forward once more. His eyes fluttered shut, and he seemed to be absorbed into another flashback, like he had been in the car after we met Bancroft. It seemed to entrap him even as he led me to my room. He was fighting hard, his fingers beginning to bunch up the material of my shirt. I said nothing, returning the reassuring hand on his back. He helped me get to my bed, and, without a word, tears forming in his hazel-green eyes, turned and walked out of the room.

I laid on my back and sighed. This man was torn apart beyond belief, but he was a force to be reckoned with. This would be, by far, the most intense job I had ever and would ever work.

#altered carbon #altered carbon fic #altered carbon oc #takeshi kovacs x oc #takeshi kovacs x reader #takeshi kovacs #nova griffiths #junowrites

[oflgtfol]

i know the nuclear waste storage thing proliferated throughout tumblr but the conversations around it never really like, properly addressed WHY i personally find it so profound and meaningful lol

it’s just. the reason it’s written like that is because this is for long-term storage. not 100 years. not 200 years. literally tens of thousands of years, to the point where the commonly recognized symbols and languages of modern day will very likely not even exist anymore. we all know what a nuclear warning symbol looks like nowadays, but we have absolutely zero guarantee that the people of the year 20,000 will be able to recognize what it means and the danger it presents. we have no idea the what kind of scientific background they will have, if they will even know what nuclear waste IS - whether that's because science has degraded over time, or because it advanced so much that nuclear waste became obsolete, or whether they know what it is but have an entirely different understanding of it than we do nowadays, etc etc.

the report about this states that the best course of action is to continuously reaffirm our current methods. make sure that our current symbols remain in public conscience, continuously educate about this, continuously update current text warnings with language as it evolves over time. that is the best case scenario.

but science is not science unless you account for all cases - especially the worst case. so how do you communicate with a group of people that you have no shared language, no shared knowledge of warning symbols, no shared scientific knowledge with?

the text warning above is only one part of the general plan to warn away from storage sites. it also includes hostile architecture as a way to physically block people from reaching the storage site, as well as a visual symbol of you're not welcome here as a warning. there are also pictographic depictions of people's faces scrunched up in disgust, fear, anger, under the assumption that emotions and facial expressions will be a unifying factor where all other forms of communication fail. in a way, this text warning is the very last resort for keeping people away.

it's written in this utterly strange way that sounds nothing like the way people actually speak. but it's written like this because it's supposed to be easily translatable, both in the literal words and also in the general concepts, in order to account for linguistic changes over time as well as possible changes in scientific and cultural knowledge.

instead of saying "there is nuclear waste here. leave" it instead calls it some sort of "emanation of energy" and it describes the general geographic area using words like "center" and "below." these are easily translatable phrases. they may not have the words or even the concept of nuclear waste, but "emanation of energy" is probably the easiest description of radiation without getting into the jargony, untranslatable science of it. if this future people is aware of nuclear radiation, then it's enough to extrapolate what exactly we're talking about here, and if they aren't aware of nuclear radiation, then it's still enough to understand that there is something intangible, invisible, and dangerous. and the warning cannot describe where exactly the waste is located using modern terms, but "center" and "below" are pretty universal concepts that have existed long before us, and will presumably persist long after us.

but what i really want to pinpoint is how they focus on the harm it causes. they describe it as an emanation of energy but they don't call it "the energy." they call it the danger, and they say "The danger is to the body, and it can kill." body, kill, danger, these are all concepts that transcend time period. people have always had words for these concepts, and they are intimately understood regardless of when you are. above all else, these words can be translated, and they are the most important words in this entire message because of that.

we have no idea if humanity as a race will even exist on these time scales. every day it feels like we’re inching closer to our own demise. and so often when anyone talks about the future even 50 years from now, you’re met with jokes like “bold of you to assume we’ll still be alive then.” it’s such a bleak outlook on life, the assumption that we’ll be gone so soon, and with it comes this uncaring attitude about future generations. why put in the work and effort to preserve things when we'll be gone in the blink of an eye, and on a more callous level, why try to improve things when i won't be alive then anyway, etc etc.

so to dedicate so much thought towards warning people SO far in the future that we cannot even imagine the state of their language, their knowledge, their culture, is just so profound to me. it’s the ultimate sign of human compassion, of caretaking and helping others in need. thousands of generations will separate us from anyone who can come close to being the intended audience of these warnings, and yet we care so much about them that we’ll go to such lengths to protect them from this danger. we can so easily hand wave it, say oh but that’s in the far future, who cares, just keep using our current language and symbols, but no! we want to reach through time and make sure that people stay away for their own health

it especially hits me because this is the impact of our own poor decisions. nuclear waste is so toxic that even thousands upon thousands of years from now it will still be deadly. and we're literally burying it in the ground and leaving it for future generations to deal with. playing with such powers before we’re ready, before we know how to properly handle it, like we’re playing God with things powerful beyond our control. the sheer hubris of it all. and the nuclear waste and the danger it poses both now and in the future is reaping the consequences of it. but the people in the future did nothing to deserve it, it was not their generation who did this, yet they’re dealing with the consequences of what their ancestors did

and so i feel like, this message is both a warning and an APOLOGY. “This place is not a place of honor... no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here... nothing valued is here.” this phrase is there to signal that no, this isn’t buried treasure, this isn’t anything you want to be digging around in, even the people of its time were in danger from it. as always, it’s a warning. but the way it's worded feels like something else, too. this place is not a place of honor. all the scientific advancements and awards and medals of honor going towards the development of nuclear energy and weapons and all things nuclear - and yet, this place is not a place of honor. one of our most shining achievements is also our heaviest burden. because here we are, having to warn our descendants in the far far future of the danger it poses, entirely because we were messing with things before we had the proper capability to handle it safely and responsibly. it’s a warning, yes, but it's also an apology. a way of humbling ourselves. "We considered ourselves to be a powerful culture," and yet, "this place is best left shunned and left uninhabited."

and so taking the time to think these things through, of how to communicate to people tens of thousands of years in the future to keep them safe and healthy, feels like both a show of human compassion for the sake of compassion, and also yet another form of apology. because this isn’t some freak accident. this isn't a naturally occurring danger. this is directly caused by our current actions. if they fall sick or die because of exposure, that is because of us, because of what we did and then buried in the ground to hide and forget about, and so it’s really only right that we take responsibility for our actions and the unintended consequences and ensure that no one else is harmed by them

TL;DR, i love this message so much because it's an admittance of hubris and playing god. it's an apology, it's a show of regret, and it's humbling ourselves in dealing with the consequences. it's communication between generations and reaching through the ages to directly talk to our descendants. it's an extraordinary link over time, between vastly different peoples, and we use it to express basic compassion and humility. it's a message about humanity, with all of our worst, but also all of our best.

#whenever i say ‘we’ i mean that in a very broad sense as in ‘humanity in general during this current time period’ #of course i am not blaming YOU as an individual for nuclear waste and its unfortunate side effects LMFAO #brot posts #this is like my fifth fucking essay about this thing . ive thought and said so much about it help #this is by far my longest one though lol and hopefully my most comprehensive one #still not entirely sure i explained it properly though. DX #it just. it makes me feel things OK !!!