#Diesel Price All State

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

i literally spend at least 2 hours a week just looking at various pictures of the terracotta army. utterly entranced. look at the details in the hair. you'd never see ANY of this when they're lined up in formation, but they're there.  

theres about 8000 of these guys down there, no two faces are alike. they're works of art. they're the manifestation of a cruel despot's delusions of grandeur. a talisman against the terrible inevitability of death, both pathetic and strangely pitiful. like watching a child clinging to his blanket, begging you not to turn off the light. they were a bunch of insignificant clay statues from a side chamber that was so small and unremarkable, no one bothered to write down the location. they were modelled after real people. their only purpose was to serve qin shi huang in the afterlife, so he could reign in heaven as he did on earth. now the emperor is just a ghost and his pawns are immortal. my dad and i visited them in the dead of winter, on a weekday, just so we wouldn't have to deal with tourists like us. the place had easily 500 people--not including the ones below ground. we traveled to xian via the old "green skin" diesel train. there are faster means, like highspeed rail but dad insisted i try the authentic way, the same way he would have traveled when he was my age it was also like, a quarter of the price but im sure that had nothing to do with it! back in the 80s carriages would get so packed people had to have their luggage passed in via the windows. as we chugged along, i read my book and my dad made us cup noodles. car is just a shortened version of "carriage", the word is the same but the mechanism is different. it's the same in chinese. i think if i told someone from the warring states period i could travel from the Kingdom of Qi to Qin in just four hours with my metal carriage, i'd be laughed out of town--or accused of being a spy and sentenced to 'death by carriage.' we hopped off the train at 4am and took a different "carriage." the taxi driver joked; "basically every dynasty put their capital in xian, stick a shovel anywhere and you'll turn up some national treasure or another." i wonder what it would have felt like to be a farmer digging a well and then out pops a remarkably realistic human head. statistical analysis show the soldier's faces bear a strong similarity to people living in the region today. the taxi stopped in front of a jewellery-hawking tourist trap and refused budge an inch until we went inside. did you know the terracotta soldiers were originally multi-coloured and painfully gaudy, just like the greek marbles? they were made assembly-line style. the arms and legs were made from the same workshops that made clay plumbing pipes and roof tiles. for quality control, the artisans were required to stamp their names. the workers who built these tombs were executed shortly afterwards, because only dead men can be trusted with secrets. qin shi huang's mausoleum is unlikely to be excavated in my father's lifetime, or mine, not unless i'm willing to take a BIG ONE for the team... instead of the tomb, they built some kind of qin shi huang-themed theme park next to it. not only was it tacky as hell the entrance fee was like $50. we went to the museum and i looked at bronze tools and pottery shards for three hours. look why can't we just crack the thing open i can't be the only one here whos dying from curiosity what if we all just took turns digging

[reasonsforhope]

"In cities across the country, people of color, many of them low income, live in neighborhoods criss-crossed by major thoroughfares and highways.

The housing there is often cheaper — it’s not considered particularly desirable to wake up amid traffic fumes and fall asleep to the rumble of vehicles over asphalt.

But the price of living there is steep: Exhaust from all those cars and trucks leads to higher rates of childhood asthma, cancer, cardiovascular disease, and pulmonary ailments. Many people die younger than they otherwise would have, and the medical costs and time lost to illness contributes to their poverty.

Imagine if none of those cars and trucks emitted any fumes at all, running instead on an electric charge. That would make a staggering difference in the trajectory, quality, and length of millions of lives, particularly those of young people growing up near freeways and other sources of air pollution, according to a study from the American Lung Association.

The study, released [February 28, 2024], found that a widespread transition to EVs could avoid nearly 3 million asthma attacks and hundreds of infant deaths, in addition to millions of lower and upper respiratory ailments...

Prior research by the American Lung Association found that 120 million people in the U.S. breathe unhealthy air daily, and 72 million live near a major trucking route — though, Barret added, there’s no safe threshold for air pollution. It affects everyone.

Bipartisan efforts to strengthen clean air standards have already made a difference across the country. In California, which, under the Clean Air Act, can set state rules stronger than national standards, 100 percent of new cars sold there must be zero emission by 2035.

[Note: The article doesn't explain this, but that is actually a much bigger deal than just California. Basically, due to historically extra terrible pollution, California is the only state that's allowed to allowed to set stronger emissions rules than the US government sets. However, one of the rules in the Clean Air Act is that any other state can choose to follow California's standards instead of the US government's. And California by itself is the world's fifth largest economy - ahead of all but four countries. California has a lot of buying power. So, between those two things, when California sets stricter standards for cars, the effects ripple outward massively, far beyond the state's borders.]

Truck manufacturers are, according to the state’s Air Resources Board, already exceeding anticipated zero-emissions truck sales, putting them two years ahead of schedule...

Other states have begun to take action, too, often reaching across partisan lines to do so. Maryland, Colorado, New Mexico, and Rhode Island adopted zero-emissions standards as of the end of 2023.

The Biden administration is taking similar steps, though it has slowed its progress after automakers and United Auto Workers pressured the administration to relax some of its more stringent EV transition requirements.

While Barret finds efforts to support the electrification of passenger vehicles exciting, he said the greatest culprits are diesel trucks. “These are 5 to 10 percent of the vehicles on the road, but they’re generating the majority of smog-forming emissions of ozone and nitrogen,” Barret said...

Lately, there’s been significant progress on truck decarbonization. The Biden administration has made promises to ensure that 30 percent of all big rigs sold are electric by 2030...

Such measures, combined with an increase in public EV charging stations, vehicle tax credits, and other incentives, could change American highways, not to mention health, for good."

-via GoodGoodGood, February 28, 2024

[joezworld]

Hey everyone seems real sad for some reason. Could not imagine why.

Anyways if you squint real hard you may notice a similarity to Thomas and the Jet Engine. That is intentional.

You can also squint and notice some similarity to several Traintober prompts. That is intentional.

Also, if you notice any similarity to any of SiF's character names... that's right! That is intentional. I did that and it's on purpose and I'm making fun of them. If you're from SiF either recognize that it was a dumb name or die mad about it.

Pip and Emma at The Top

2021 - The Summer

It was the longest summer since the last one. There weren’t any tourists - obviously - but even the inter-island traffic had died down considerably. The government on the mainland was skittishly enacting and then subsequently revoking plans to allow gatherings again, and the people of Sodor were prudently trying to keep the Island’s activities out of London’s sphere of notice. 

As events were curtailed and people limited their own travel, the railway cut back on services, as they’d done several times before. Pip and Emma were the first to be relegated to the yards; while they could run a much shorter train - and often did - a shortage-related spike in the price of diesel fuel meant that it was more economical for James or Henry to take the two diesels' trains instead. 

Henry had tried to make sense of how the economics on that worked out, but numbers were not his strong suit, and so he instead passed along his sympathies every time he passed the twins in the yard. 

James (and no-one else) thought that he was being rather magnanimous by not endlessly laughing about how he was cheaper to run than a diesel. Several cutting responses had been prepared if he ever got too full of himself, but shockingly he’d kept the snickering to a bare minimum. 

As the days stretched on into a week, and then two, a bigger problem soon began to present itself:

“I’m bored, Pip!”

“Me too!” 

Pip and Emma were getting restless.

“WILL YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN?! IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING!”

And they were more than willing to make that everyone else’s problem. 

-

A few days later, and the diesels were overjoyed when an inspector came to them with instructions to report to the works. 

Equally overjoyed were the engines in the big shed. 

-

Pip and Emma arrived at the works in a right state, having been held up by trackwork along the main line. 

“Two hours! Can you believe it Emma?”

“I don’t like running light engine, they can push us around too much.”

“Right? We’re express engines, not a train of old rubbish!” “I think they prioritized the rubbish train over us, if that smell at Kellsthorpe Road was anything to go by.”

“Ugh!”

-

Mr. Tedfield, the Works Manager, eventually arrived, bringing an end to their complaining. “Right you two. Seems like we’ve got some work for you.”

“Here?” They chorused. 

“No,” he said quickly. “But the work is going to be a lot different from your usual job, and we’re gonna have to do some modifications.”

“Oh no,” Pip cried. “It’s going to be buffers, isn’t it?”

“How did you know?” The man was baffled. 

“It’s the only thing it could be, sir.” Emma explained. “That’s what they said on the Eastern Region, back in the 1980’s. ‘Just some little modifications!’ and they came back from Derby with the ugliest buffers ever!” 

“It was a hatchet job!” Pip agreed. “All their lower valances, gone!” 

“Easy, easy!” Mr. Tedfield yelped, not expecting that sort of response. “I’m sure that we can do a better job than that!”

“Promise?” they said in worried unison.

“Promise.”

-

A few days later, and the twins were relieved to discover that the works were as good as their word. Unlike the Eastern Region “hatchet jobs,” they still sported all their bodywork. Holes had been drilled through the lower valances, and buffers, couplings, and air hoses now poked through. The fibreglass was a little rough around the edges, but everyone agreed that it could also look a great deal worse. (Apparently, custom fibreglass was one of the only things the works staff couldn’t do in-house, and there was a concerning amount of murmuring from the staff about how they’d change that.)

Rolling out into the sun for the first time since they were “slightly modified,” they blinked the light from their eyes to find Mr. Tedfield, the Fat Controller, and another man who they didn’t know waiting for them. 

“Well,” Started Mr. Tedfield. “I’m glad to see that our concerns were unfounded.” 

The twins knew he was being diplomatic in front of the Fat Controller. He’d already said “I told you so!” several times earlier in the day. 

He continued. “So now we should probably tell you what we would like you to do!”

“Because somebody forgot to mention it earlier…” The other man muttered under his breath. 

The Fat Controller looked from one man to the other, and shook his head slightly. “Pip, Emma, as I’m sure you’re already aware, we are not going to be running the Express to London anytime soon. So, with that in mind, you two are going to be assigned to mixed traffic work until passenger numbers allow us to put you back into normal service.”

“Mixed traffic work?” They said as one. 

“Oh yes!” The Fat Controller looked quite pleased with himself. “We have quite a lot of cargo traffic coming in through the ports right now, and you two will help take the strain off everyone else.”

The man they didn’t know coughed slightly. 

“Of course, how foolish of me,” The Fat Controller rolled his eyes. “I also recognize that you two have some… special abilities that the other engines lack, namely your high-speed capabilities. With that in mind, Mr. Hargrave, from the coach and wagon department here at the works, has had an idea.”

“Yes, right.” Mr. Hargrave said with pride. “So, back when we first started coming back to work after the lockdowns, the government gave us a whole pile of Levelling-Up money, to “get us back on our feet.”” He paused, bouncing on his heels. “Thing is, we’d already fixed up everything beforehand, because we didn’t want anyone locked away in the works during the end of days with their bits in pieces, so we didn’t have anything to spend it on, but we had to spend it, otherwise they’d take it back!”

“Government logic at its finest…” Mr. Tedfield said under his breath. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Mr. Hargrave agreed. “So anyways, we decided to just make everything as perfect as we could make it.”

He stopped for a moment, long enough for the Fat Controller to look at him. “Such as…?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, the container wagons!” He said all at once. “We took all the container wagons that were sitting around idle - and some other stuff besides - and we took them and fitted high speed bogies and bearings to them.”

Pip blinked slowly. “High speed bogies?”

“That’s right! They ride like coaches now.” He said with childlike joy. “And they won’t weigh much more than them either, so it shouldn’t be much trouble for you two. High speed containers, all the way to the mainland!”

Pip looked at him, then at the Fat Controller. “Sir, why are we doing this?”

The Fat Controller looked much more reasoned. “Quite a few companies are willing to pay a premium for their shipments to arrive as quickly as possible. There’s a lot of congestion at the bigger ports in the south, and Liverpool is operating almost at capacity, so we have an opportunity to get some very lucrative traffic.” He smiled knowingly. “And if we play our cards right, some of the companies, like Amazon, might build a few warehouses just across the channel on the mainland, and then we can serve those in perpetuity.” 

The twins slowly digested this. “But sir, will it matter if we can go that fast?” Pip asked. “Once we cross the bridge, we’ve got to deal with Network Rail, and they don’t know anything.”

The Fat Controller looked as pleased as punch. “But you’re not dealing with Network rail.” He said with a satisfied smile. “Our contract for this ‘express freight’ is to get it as far as Barrow-in-Furness. If Freightliner or Colas Rail happen to be tardy after that…” he made a gesture with his hands. “That’s of no importance to us.”

Pip and Emma blinked slowly. “So, you want us to go as fast as we can?” Pip said with an expression that was rapidly passing “gleeful.”

“I do.” The Fat Controller agreed, before walking away.

---

Across the Island, the trucks and wagons shuddered.

--

A few weeks later

Pip and Emma fit in surprisingly well on goods trains, and could soon be found on everything from trundling pickup goods to the Flying Kipper. The Works really had made every truck as “perfect” as they could make them, and so every train, regardless of what it was or who was pulling it, was rolling on new bearings and freshly-trued wheels. Bear, BoCo, James, and Henry claimed it was some of the easiest work they’d ever had, and even the trucks agreed with them!

Pip and Emma, however, were mostly focused on one thing: speed. They’d been promised the ability to go as fast as they liked, but there was a significant obstacle to it:

“Oh come on! How long can it take to re-lay one set of points!”

The Permanent Way and Signaling departments had also received a great deal of this “use it or lose it” government funding, and were furiously working to replace, re-lay, and re-wire seemingly the entire island. 

Fortunately for the twins, the work was almost at an end, and as the summer began to wane, they soon found that more and more of the line was back up to full capacity. Shortly thereafter, the “Container Express” was a regularly scheduled train on the main line, running twice a day between Tidmouth Harbour and the yard in Barrow. Keen-eyed observers of the timetable would note that it was the exact same pair of slots previously occupied by the Wild Nor’Wester, which had last run in March of 2020. 

The Fat Controller promised anyone who asked him that it was absolutely a temporary measure, and most believed him, save for one group in particular…

“Lads,” A voice murmured in the container yard one morning. “I think this is forever… ‘s our purgatory for whatever it is we’ve done to the engines.”

“Nah, this ain’t purgatory,” whispered another, as a two-toned horn blasted in the distance. 

“Hi everyone!” “Ready for the trip?”

“This is hell. We’re in hell.”

  -

A few days later - Barrow

The lift bridge over the Walney Channel operated very differently than it did pre-COVID. A train would arrive at the Vicarstown side of the bridge, then it would lower. It would stay down while the engines were turned round, or were uncoupled from their train and connected to a new one. Then the train would leave, and the bridge would go back up. 

This happened two to four times a day, now that the lockdowns had lessened, but there was one constant - the same train that left the island would be the one to return to it. 

Then, one evening in the late summer, the bridge rolled down for a train coming from the mainland. 

There was a very familiar two-toned honk-honk as it rolled over the bridge and onto the Island, wheels click-clacking across the bridge joints in great numbers. 

The rear power car vanished with a roar of sound and a whoosh of diesel exhaust, and then the train was gone into the distance. 

The bridge slowly cycled back up. There was a new train on the Island of Sodor. 

-

The next morning 

Pip and Emma woke up much later than usual - the main line was undergoing its final “track geometry inspection”, and freight services had been curtailed for most of the day to allow the inspection to be done as quickly as possible. 

Eventually, they were rolled out of the diesel shed mostly on BoCo’s urging, (“You two are not allowed to get bored in here.”) and made their way to the platforms of the big station. 

“Oh, this is weird!” Pip exclaimed as she backed down onto a set of coaches. She and Emma had been coupled back-to-back for over a month now, and it seemed like nobody was in a hurry to position them “normally” for a short run down to Suddery and back. 

“Not as weird as your- oh my goodness it’s you two.” James started his sentence with a considerable amount of venom, but squeaked halfway through his sentence before stopping altogether. 

“What was that?” They both looked at him funny. 

“Nothing!” He said quickly. “Nothing at all. I, um, I thought that you were somebody else!” 

He vanished as though by magic, and neither Pip, Emma, nor the coaches had any idea of what to say until the guard waved his flag. 

-

Making their way down the line, they encountered several other engines, each of whom gave them some kind of funny look. As they headed down Edward’s branch line, it was all they could talk about.

“Maybe it’s just how strange we look back-to-back?”

“It can’t be, Pip! You saw how Edward looked! I think he was actually upset!”

“Goodness, I hope it wasn’t anything we did.”

“I don’t think so. They all seemed to stop once they saw us.”

“...”

“What?”

“I just had a thought.”

“What?”

“Who looks like us, but can make everyone hate them in no time flat?”

“Oh no!”

-

Later, they arrived back at Wellsworth station with the return service. The train terminated here, instead of returning to the big station, so once the passengers had disembarked, they had to shunt the coaches out of the way. It was somewhat novel for them, and Pip took great joy in being shown how a shunter’s pole worked. Emma, on the other buffer, was busy eavesdropping; Edward was getting ready to bank Bear’s goods train up Gordon’s Hill, and he was fuming about something to the stationmaster. 

“-that damn banana shows its face here again I will show them what for!” he hissed sternly, before puffing away in a huff.

The stationmaster didn’t say anything that Emma could hear, but he seemed to look very intently at the signals outside the station. There was one signal set for an arriving train. 

Emma didn’t like that, it felt very ominous. “Pip, look sharp. I think we’re going to have trouble soon.”

Pip didn’t have time to respond, because at that instant, the two-tone horn of an HST rang out in the near distance. The rails hummed with the noise of an approaching train, and a 5-coach HST set pulled into the station. 

The train was safety-yellow, and bristled with cameras, sensors, lasers, and measurement equipment of all kinds. Large “NETWORK RAIL” logos were plastered on every coach and both power cars, right next to the words “NEW MEASUREMENT TRAIN.”

 It was glossy. It was shiny. It was freshly washed. 

“Oh, must we dawdle around this dump? I know what sort of conditions this lot keeps!”

It was rude. 

“Will you stop already? I would like to not be thrown off this island, thanks.” 

Well, half of it was. 

Pip closed her eyes to steady herself. Emma ground her teeth audibly. Of course it was them. 

Quickly, quietly, they tried to reverse out of sight, but the camera-studded train saw all, and criticised everything. 

“Oh I say!” The lead power car laughed mockingly. “I thought those rumours were wrong but look at that! You two really have been demoted to common shunters!”

“Hi Pip. Hi Emma.” The rear power car said, utterly defeated. 

“Hi John,” They chorused, equally displeased. “Hi, Obs-”

“Do not use that name!” The lead power car snapped brusquely. On his side there was a big brass nameplate that read “The Railway Observer.” “Use my real name.”

“Not this again…” The rear power car moaned. He had “John Armitt” bolted to his side. “I know that you think it sounds better but I promise you it isn’t-”

“I’m sorry,” The lead power car snapped. “But are you undermining me in front of outsiders?”

“They’re our sisters, you numpty.”

“And they shall refer to me by the name of my choice!” 

“It’s a stupid name!” 

“It’s a regal name!” 

Pip and Emma observed the bickering train with muted resignation. “Why couldn’t he have been at Ladbroke Grove?” Pip said to nobody in particular. “Would’ve done the world a favour.”

Emma just wanted to get this over with. The coaches had been safely shunted away, so it was just a matter of getting out of the yard - then they could go down to Tidmouth and get their next train. “And what name would you like us to call you?” She said eventually. 

The lead power car puffed himself up like a self-important cockatoo. “I,” He proclaimed regally. “Am Murgatroyd. It is a noble name, with a rich history, and-” 

Pip almost swallowed her own tongue from the sudden outburst of laughter, while Emma couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. “Oh my god, that is the worst name I have ever heard of,” She said, barely audible over Pip’s gale-force guffaws. “Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you do that to us?” 

Murgatroyd turned red with indignation (which, thanks to his yellow paint, was actually a shade of orange) and started shouting. “How dare you, you- you- you low-class harlot! This is a regal name, chosen to signify-”

“How much of a pretentious twat you are?” John scoffed from the other end of the NMT. “Usually people can tell when you talk.”

The retort that followed was unprintable, and a vicious three-way argument soon struck up, lasting until Pip and Emma left Wellsworth for the harbour at Tidmouth. 

The New Measurement Train left a few minutes after that, an argument trailing in its wake. The yard was silent after that.

BoCo, who had been trying to nap in the shed, looked around the yard. “I don’t think anyone will believe me…” he said to himself. 

-----

At the harbour’s intermodal yard, Pip and Emma found their train already waiting for them… although it was slightly different from usual.

Fifteen container trucks sat mostly empty, with just a few loaded ones up at the front. Ahead of those were two low-loaders, one empty, the other… not. 

“Finally!” Thomas the Tank Engine groused from atop the front low-loader. “It’s been ages!” 

“It’s been two hours.” The low-loader rolled his eyes. “We left at 11:00. It’s barely past one.”

“Well, who asked you?!” 

Pip and Emma were surprised, to say the least. “What’s he doing here?” They asked the yard supervisor. “Can we take him on this train?”

“As a matter of fact,” He consulted his clipboard. “You can. I spoke to the works, and they’ve “improved” some of the flatcars with the high speed bogies they had left over. Should be fine.”

“Should be?” 

“That’s what they said.” He shrugged, flipping through the clipboard to a printout of an email. “They put it in writing.” 

Pip had to squint to see the small text. “I don’t like that they put “It should be fine!” on an official email…”

Behind her, Emma rolled her eyes, in the process noticing something above them. “Wait, what’s that?” 

The supervisor looked up. “Oh, that’s a jet engine for an airplane. Rolls Royce rebuilds them down in Derby.”

“Why is it here? This isn’t the airport.”

“Airport’s closed for a few days because they lost their electric transformer - surprised you didn’t ‘ear about it. Rolls didn’t wanna wait, and we’re quicker than a lorry it seems.” The man smiled at the last part. Everyone in the freight division was very pleased that this “hare-brained, half-baked, absolutely ridiculous” concept (as some “industry observers” had remarked) was proving successful.  

Emma watched as the jet engine was craned onto a flatcar behind Thomas. “Oh great!” He scoffed as it was chained down to the car. “Not only am I getting shuttled around this Island like a piece of lost mail, but now it’s air mail at that?”

“Oh shush!” Pip said, somewhat bemused by the whole situation. “We’ll get you to Barrow double quick!”

“Barrow?! I’m going to the works!” Thomas was irate. 

“If you ever listened,” The low-loader started. “You’d know that they don’t stop there, so we’re going to Barrow, and then back to Crovan’s on the pick-up goods.”

“Oh! Wonderful! I am a lost parcel! This is all Toby’s fault, the square-”

“Thomas,” Emma cut him off kindly. “It’ll be fine. Think about it this way - you can say that you went there on the Express! Won’t that be fun?”

“I’ve been on the express before…” Thomas said darkly.

“See? Then you know how fun it is!” 

Thomas looked like he wanted to say something else, but before he could, the shunters allowed Pip and Emma to back down onto the train, and connected the coupling chains and air hoses. 

Emma winked at him reassuringly, something which he felt was only unintentionally patronizing.

And then the train set off for the mainland. 

-

Leaving the port was a slow affair - the container yard was off to one side, and they had to dodge Marina and Salty as they shunted cars into the bulk terminals by the yard throat. There were a lot of low-speed switches to navigate as well, and the train rocked from side to side as they crossed over. Thomas thought about saying he was getting seasick, but chose not to tempt fate after the seventh such switch made him actually feel a little nauseous. 

After reaching the end of the harbour tracks, they came to a complete stop, and waited for several trains to leave the big station. 

First came Gordon, who stormed out of the station canopy with the mid-day semi-fast behind him. His expression was thunderous, as were his clouds of smoke and steam. He passed by with a roar and a clatter and vanished into the tunnel towards Knapford. 

Edward was a few minutes behind, with a train of ballast from the Little Western. The expression on his face was neutral, almost intentionally so - a clear sign to anyone that knew him that he was blisteringly furious. 

“Oh no…” Emma sighed. 

“What?” Thomas asked, watching Edward’s brake van disappear into the tunnel. 

“Not what, who.” She said, resigned. “And you’ll find out soon enough.”

Up front, Pip grit her teeth and waited. 

She didn’t have to wait long - another minute, and an unusual signal dropped into place: an up-bound train cleared for the down slow line. A very familiar two-note honk-honk sounded from inside the station, and then Murgatroyd appeared, a self-satisfied sneer on his face. 

He roared out of the station, New Measurement Train shining brightly behind him, John on the tail end calling apologies to someone. It would have been a rather splendid sight, had there not been a massive cloud of sooty clag hovering over the station entrance, and trailing in his wake. 

Pip smirked with a hint of schadenfreude - John wasn’t trailing any sooty exhaust smoke, and five empty coaches were not that heavy, so somebody was ignoring his fitters it seemed…

She would have been content to sit there smugly, her well-tuned engine firing cleanly on all cylinders saying more than she ever could with words, but naturally Murgatroyd had to make things worse. 

“Oh good god!” He bellowed in mean-spirited mirth, his mouth twisting into a cheshire-cat smile. “Look at that! They really are Valenta freighters now! And they’re slumming it with a tea kettle! I thought that I had seen it all!” 

He vanished out of sight before he could say anything else, the coaches streaming by in a yellow blur. 

Pip could just see her reflection in the passing windows - they moved so fast it looked like a solid mirror - and it was not a pretty sight. 

Emma, who’d heard everything, reckoned that if he’d gone on for one more sentence, her sister would be spitting fire and roaring loud enough to be heard in Cornwall. 

Thomas, who had said worse to Toby and Daisy just this morning, suddenly felt a great sense of unease…

-

A few tense minutes later, and the signal finally raised, giving the train access to the main line. Pip set off with a roar, Emma reluctantly following her lead through the multiple unit connection. Thomas choked and spluttered from the wave of hot exhaust gases going right into his face, and barely noticed as the train rocked and rolled onto the Up Fast line. 

Blinking and tearing up, his vision finally cleared just in time to see Pip’s cab roof disappear into the darkness of the tunnel to Knapford. It was much closer than it usually was, and with the train rapidly increasing in speed, Thomas yelped as it cleared his funnel by mere inches. “YIKES!”

Emma laughed, eyes shining in the darkness, and Thomas knew that the sooner he got off this train, the better!

-

After that, for a little while, the trip continued smoothly. Knapford, Crosby, and Wellsworth stations all slid past without issue. Traffic was extremely light, and they didn’t pass any down-bound trains in the entire period. In fact, if it weren’t for the occasional blot of Gordon’s smoke on the horizon, it would have seemed that they had the entire main line to themselves. 

-

It was just past Maron station when the trouble began. 

As they crested Gordon’s hill, the first signal past the summit had fallen to “approach” almost as they passed it, and some quick shouting at “control” on the radio had revealed that the last of the permanent way crews were taking longer than usual to clear the main line near Kellsthorpe Road station. 

This meant that Pip and Emma were practically at a crawl as they reached Maron, and the train eased to a stop at the signal bridge just past the platforms. 

Pip, still hot under the buffers from her encounter with Murgatroyd, was not exactly thrilled at the idea of “dawdling” in stations, and audibly fussed as they came to a halt.

Her poor temper didn’t help her train handling skills any, and the train lurched inelegantly to a halt, causing the slack in the couplings to run in, and the entire train banged against her and Emma. 

There was much shouting and complaining from the trucks and Thomas at this, and Pip growled menacingly.  

“Oh, well.” Emma said quickly, trying to put a positive spin on things. “At least it’s a nice day out-”

CLONK

Before she could even say anything, the signals rose to the “approach slow, expect stop” aspect. This meant that they were getting moved forward exactly one signal block, to the Cronk home signals near the Hawin Ab Viaduct. 

“Oh come on!” Emma cried in frustration. 

It was abundantly clear what was happening now: they were going to be yo-yo-ed up and down the main line. Yo-yo-ing was what happened when a fast train was stuck behind a slow one, and had to constantly stop at each signal and wait for it to clear. It was hard on an engine’s brakes, worse on their buffers and couplings, and worst of all, was annoying as sin. This was exactly the sort of constant, low-grade irritation that she (and Pip) did not need right now.

Pip’s driver was entirely unaware of this, though, and so he increased the throttle and watched with some bemusement as Pip let her engine furiously rev all the way to the top of the tachometer right from the jump. 

She and Emma lurched forwards, and the entire train crashed into motion, each car yanking the one behind it as they all set off. 

Thomas rocked back and forth against his tie-down chains. “Careful!” he shouted. 

“Shut up!” Pip and Emma scowled. 

Thomas frowned, ready to give them a piece of his mind. 

“It’s no use,” tThe low-loader sighed. “They’re in a strop right now - best you can do is make them forget that you’re here, til they calm down.”

“When will that happen?” 

“That, lad, is something that the smartest trucks in all the land have been searching for an answer to for many years.”

-

To add insult to perceived injury, Pip’s driver didn’t bother accelerating to any real speed, since they were only going one signal down the line. Pip and Emma stewed in their own irritation at twenty-five miles an hour as they rolled up the line towards the next signal. There was very little that could be done to make them more upset, but of course when there’s a will, (and a Murgatroyd) there’s a way.

-

“Oh, no…” John murmured to himself. 

The New Measurement Train had been caught at a signal for almost thirty minutes, as the Island’s P-Way team cleared out in front of them. The positioning of this particular signal was not ideal, as it left the tail of the train caught on the exposed tracks of a windy viaduct. Furthermore, the signal, like all signals on Sodor, was a relatively vintage semaphore design that still used colored filters over a white light. He knew this from experience, having been all over this island for the last day, however he was hearing all of it now because his royal Murgitude had been griping and whinging about it literally since the moment they stopped. 

And now, look at who was coming up to the signals on the fast line… 

“Hi Pip, Hi Emma,.” he said weakly. 

He almost wanted to tell them to stop further back, and be near him - away from the irritating mass at the front of the train - but looking at Pip’s enraged visage gave him pause. He stilled his tongue, and let them roll up to the signal mast next to Murg.

Judging from the way that the train screeched and bashed to a halt, Emma wasn’t happy either. A smart engine (or one with a functioning self-preservation instinct) would have kept quiet at that stage, however Murgatroyd was neither self-preserving nor intelligent, and John could hear his mocking tone from five coaches back. 

Pip said nothing, and at first neither did Emma, but as Moron-a-troyd went on and on and on, John could feel a shift in the container wagons next to him. It was almost like they were cringing, trying to keep themselves as far away from whatever was about to happen next. 

Finally, he could take the suspense no more. “Is it bad?” he asked the nearest truck. 

“SHUT UP. I AM TIRED OF HEARING YOU SPEAK,” Emma bellowed, loud enough to be heard clearly at the other end of the train. 

“It’s awful bad,” the truck whispered. “You can tell he’s never dealt with real engines before. One of us acts like that and we’d be the next Scruffey within a month!”

John didn’t know who “Scruffey” was, but he understood the sentiment regardless. 

Silence reigned after that… for all of ten seconds, before Murgatroyd said something about “decorum” that set off a screaming row between all three of them. 

It was bad enough that the Network Rail crew inside the coaches started making a fuss on the radio, and within a minute, the container train roared away, leaving the New Measurement Train in windy silence yet again. 

After a few short seconds, John felt a “poke” over the multiple unit connection. Clearly Murgatroyd wanted to say something. 

“Well,” he said, voice warbling from some damage in the connection that John hadn’t ever told anyone about. “I think they said their piece didn’t they? I tell you what John-old-boy, but this island produces some of the worst examples of engine-kind that I have ever seen. I think that one was breathing fire!”

-

At Cronk station, Pip and Emma were idling so loud and so roughly that the stationmaster radioed the crew to ask if something was wrong. 

“That damned flying banana got them in a state, that’s what’s wrong,” The driver snapped over the radio. That awful measurement train had been nothing but problems since it showed up on the island, and he was willing to do anything to see them gone. Heck, if it wasn’t likely to make his engines even angrier, he’d give that train his path to the mainland, just so it’d be gone faster. 

What they really needed was a good fast run, to get them back into their usual state, but with the P-Way team taking their sweet bloody time of it, it didn’t seem likely. 

“If they keep going like this, they’re going to burst a manifold somewhere,” the guard poked his head into the cab. “We’ve got to calm them down.”

“I would love to see you try!” the driver retorted. “They’re not gonna stop until they’re good and ready.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Pip huffed. 

“And? Are you going to calm down?” 

A slow growl that shook the entire cab was his only answer. 

“Go put the radio on,” he said to the wide-eyed guard. “They need something to keep their minds occupied.”

“Radio? Like, to control?”

“No, you nit! Like the radio radio! With music! There’s a circuit breaker on the electrical panel. Bottom row.”

Confused, the guard retreated from the cab and made his way to Pip’s electrical cabinet. Opening up the “low voltage” door, he traced his finger down the rows of breakers until he found what should have been immediately obvious: a handwritten label on some sellotape next to the last of the breakers. It said “TUNES” in shaky handwriting, and was one of the only ones not turned on. Hesitantly, he reached out and switched it on. 

“-and that was “No Diggity,” by Blackstreet, here on ManxPirate, the eternally annoying voice of the Sudrian Sea. Catch our sound wherever you are, on 107.9 FM, 927 AM, 13.68 Shortwave, DAB, DAB+, and online at ManxPirate.co.im. 

“Oh come on!” Pip groused. “Now they’re gonna do the adverts! This isn’t any better than listening to the moron!”

“And now that brings us up to about five minutes til’ the top of the hour, so we’re gonna run some adverts so we can keep the lights on. We’ll see ya on the flipside with DJ Geordie Poppers, who’s gonna run a very special block of music for us, right here on ManxPirate.”

“How often do they listen to this?” the guard asked with some astonishment. 

“Too much, if I had any say in it…” the driver mumbled.

“Are you tired of your washing up smelling like mildew? Are you sick of having to pull down the drying lines at the first sign of rain? Then the new automatic clothes dryers at B&Q are just for you…”

The radio continued on with an inane advertisement about tumble dryers, and the driver put his head in his hands. “We’ve just got to make it to a song… I hope.”

Pip and Emma continued to stew in their own irritation. 

-----

Far away, at Kellsthorpe Road station, the last of the P-Way Gang hauled their equipment off of the line, sharing a celebratory high-five as they did so. There was due cause for celebration: once the NMT traveled over this section of line, their yearslong work of relaying the entire main line would be finally over. In the station’s car park, a champagne bottle was popped, and the foreman revealed that he’d brought real crystal stemware for the occasion, instead of plastic.    

Presently, a radio handset buzzed. “Is that the lot of you off, then?” 

It was Control, sounding less than pleased with the delay… 

----

At Cronk, the signals for the down slow line rose into the “all clear” position, while the up fast signals remained red. 

Pip ground her teeth noisily. 

“HI, I’M BARRY SCOTT, AND I’M HERE TO TALK ABOUT THE ALL NEW CILLIT BANG UNIVERSAL DEGREASER! NOW WITH NEW FORMULATION! SAY GOODBYE TO LIMESCALE AND RUST STAINS…” 

The radio continued to play adverts.

Thomas was growing increasingly fearful of the look on Emma’s face. 

--

A few minutes later, as an insufferably bad advertisement about comparing your car insurance provider finally faded out, a two tone honk-honk sounded behind them, and the New Measurement Train roared past in a cloud of exhaust and dust. Pip and Emma didn’t say anything, or even look in the general direction, but the raucous laughter that trailed in its wake said enough. 

Mercifully, the radio had begun playing something else. “All right then, got those ads out of the way. So what’s up listeners? It’s DJ Geordie Poppers in the hooo-use, coming to you LIVE from our studios on the ever so beautiful radio ship Tharos out here in the Sudrian Sea. We’ve got a very special bit of music for you coming up now in the upcoming hour - it’s a rare daylight sighting of our After-Dark Eurobeat Power Hour! I’m gonna be spinning some CDs and MP3s with the most pulse-pounding beats this side of Mount Akina - so if you’re driving right now, sorry about this.”

As John got smaller and smaller in the distance, the music began to fade in, very gradually. 

“And a bit of housekeeping here - we’ve heard from the artist and they’ve had a bit of a name change. Out goes Ken, and in comes Kendra. This is the extended version of “The Top,” by  Ken (short for Kendra) Blast.”

Slowly, a piano track began to fill in. 

Pip raised an eyebrow, irritation momentarily sidetracked. “Is this really the Eurobeat block, Emma?”

“I think it is,” she said, starting to go along with the intro.  

Thomas, who couldn’t hear Pip or the radio, had no idea what she was talking about. He didn’t like the look on her face. 

The trucks didn’t either. 

“Lads,” the lead container wagon said with gravitas. “We may not make it through today unchanged. It has been an honor serving with you.”

“What?” The low loader that carried the jet engine coughed as the container wagons murmured about honor. He was relatively new, and this was not how he expected his day to be going.

“Laddie,” Thomas’ low loader said gravely, understanding at once what was about to happen. “You’re about to experience something that you’ve never been through before. I’d recommend preparing yourself.”

“What?!” Thomas yelped. 

---

Back in Tidmouth, the people in “Control” were staring at the “big board.” For weeks now, the section of line near Kellsthorpe road had been a mess of green, yellow, and red lights, as the P-Way gang slowly finished the banked curve on the station’s east end. Trains, represented by little markers on the computer screen, waited for a free path, oftentimes with large delays, which showed up in flashing red and white boxes. 

Now, though, their frustration was finally at an end. The last of the yellow was disappearing, section by section, as the P-Way gang reported that they were clear. Three of the four lines were bright red - clear but with no train signaled through - while the down slow line was a green and yellow stripe. It was getting shorter and shorter, as the little marker labeled 1Q01 moved steadily eastward. That was the New Measurement Train, finishing its final pass of the system.  

Behind it, with the box flashing red and white from the delay, was 1B07 - the “Container Express,” already twenty minutes late. More trains were lined up behind it and the NMT, and others were queuing in a line that started at Kellsthorpe Road and went all the way to the mainland. 

The yellow segments were almost entirely gone, with just one signal block outside of Kellsthorpe Road left. 

There was a five minute safety delay coded into the signal control computers, specifically for when crews were working on the line. 

It had been four minutes and fifty six seconds since they’d reported that they were clear. 

Four minutes and fifty seven seconds.

Four minutes and fifty eight.

Four minutes and fifty nine. 

---

The signal in front of Pip raised with a clonk. 

There was still a slight haze to the air from Murgatroyd’s exhaust. In the distance, the plume of sooty white smoke he was making stood out against the clear blue sky like a signal fire. 

“Emma?” Anyone with sense would recognize the danger in her tone.

“Yeah?” Unfortunately for everyone else on the train, they couldn’t do anything about it.

“I think we should catch him.”

“I think you’re right.”

--

In the cab, the driver looked nervously at the rev counter, which had started to climb rapidly. 

“Here goes nuthin’,” he said quietly to himself, before advancing the throttle.

--

The music, which had been slowly building over the last twenty seconds or so, abruptly kicked into a high gear, with a frenetic electronic beat that belted along at 160 beats per minute. 

White exhaust belched from the twins’ exhaust, before quickly turning black under the load. Their engines ramped up to an ear-piercing howl, obliterating any sense of quiet at Cronk station.

Thomas once again got a face full of noxious choking clag, and his eyes watered while his hearing was momentarily deafened by the noise of it all. 

The train began to pick up speed, and the container wagons groaned in fatalistic anticipation. “It’s all downhill from here!” one of them shouted. 

“What?” Thomas hacked from inside the cloud. He couldn’t see anything, and his hearing was ringing like a church bell. 

In front, Pip could feel the unrelenting wave of horsepower and diesel surging through her system. She laughed joyously, with Emma soon joining in. 

To everyone else, it seemed somewhat maniacal. 

🎶 Final lap I'm on top of the world

And I will never rest for second again!

One more time I have beaten them out

The scent of gasoline announces the end! 🎶

--

The train vanished from sight, on its way towards Killdane. The stationmaster poked his head out of the station door. 

“There goes trouble…”

--

The New Measurement Train rolled through Killdane with fleetfooted ease. The rails were clear and the light train was aided by the downhill gradient. From his position on the rear, John felt like the entire consist was weightless, with barely any effort required to keep the train at speed. 

“You think we should go any faster?” he called up the multiple unit connection to Murg. They usually ran at well over 120, but today they’d barely crested 90. 

There was a cough over the connection. “Oh, not today. We’re still the fastest train on this backwards island!” 

Ah yes. A sudden excuse. Surely that was completely unrelated to the plume of smoke trailing in their wake. 

“So, how’s cylinder four feeling today?”

“Shut up.”

John smiled pettily to himself. 

In the distance, Killdane got smaller and smaller. A small dot of yellow could just be seen…

---

🎶 They all said I'd best give it up

What a fool to believe their lies!

Now they've fallen and I'm at the top

Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?! 🎶

---

At Killdane, the sounds of the NMT had scarcely faded before the sound of howling diesel engines filled the air. Heads turned to the east just in time to see Pip and Emma hammering around the curve into the station at full throttle. 

The curve was banked, but not nearly as steeply as the ones to the west, and there was a piercing screeeeeech of steel on steel as the train whipped past. 

“Slowdownslowdownslowdownslowdownslowdown!” There was also a piercing screech coming from the train’s cargo, as Thomas the Tank Engine felt himself rock back and forth atop the low loader. It really did feel like he was going to fall off! 

Pip had a very determined look on her face, eyes focused well into the distance, but those who saw Emma in the brief moment she was in view noted an almost demented smile on her face. She was laughing. 

All this happened in just a moment, and then the train was gone, roaring off into the distance at just below the line speed limit. The wind from the train’s passage rattled a lineside sign. It was a white circle with several thin diagonal slashes through it. 

It was an “end of speed limit” sign.

--

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶

--

John noticed that the small yellow dot in the distance was getting bigger. Squinting, he couldn’t quite see what it was. 

Whatever it was, it was slowly gaining on them.

Hang on…He thought. 

The cameras that were blanketing his sides were supposed to be recording the lineside for defects, but nobody ever cared about the “going away” view. Very quietly, he “looked” through the lens mounted just above his eyes. It had a nice zoom, and could see much further than he could. 

What he saw made him blink and look again. Then a third time. Then a fourth. After looking for a fifth and final time. He finally wrapped his mind around what exactly he was seeing. 

“Hey Murg?” he said innocently. 

“Yes? What is it?” Murg sounded far more irritated than he should be. 

“Think you can get us into the triple digits? Some of the boffins are worried about their readings not being calibrated right.”

“Oh damn them all.” Murg cut the connection with a pained cough. John had a distinct feeling that the Infallible and Most Invulnerable King Murgatroyd was hiding exactly how bad cylinder four really was from everyone, lest he be seen as “weak” or “mortal” by his inferiors. 

Well, he thought to himself with a hint of smugness as the train slowly began to increase speed. If he wants to play the perfect king, he’ll have to deal with the locals.  

Behind them, Pip and Emma continued to get closer and closer…

---

James and his coaches had been waiting on the dratted P-Way gangers for over half an hour at Kellsthorpe Road, and set off with a will when the signal changed. 

Of course, the signaling was all out of sorts, and he was running “wrong main” on the Up Slow line, but he didn’t much care. There wasn’t anyone in front of him, and was making “good” time on his way to Killdane. “Maybe we’ll still make it to Tidmouth before tomorrow!” he joked to his driver, who had long since given up on making light of the situation. 

They leaned into the curve heading towards Killdane, and that awful banana of a measurement train streaked by in the other direction. James whistled derisively at it out of reflex more than anything else, and was quietly grateful that the unpleasant train had nothing to say in return. 

In the distance, a giddy-sounding honk-honk drew his attention back to the line ahead, and he had just enough time to make out something streaking on the next line over before something-

Honk-Honk! Honk-Honk!

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

-ripped past them with a honk, a roar, and a scream.

“What was that?!” He yelped as the wind buffeted him. 

“I think that was Pip and Emma!” his driver said, looking backward. “With a container train!”

“What?!”

---

🎶 One more turn and I'll settle the score

A rubber fire screams into the night

Crash and burn is what you're gonna do

I am the master of the asphalt fight 🎶

---

John watched as Pip and Emma got closer and closer. In a macabre way, he felt giddy about it. At their current speed, they were going to eat Murgatroyd for lunch and still have room for tea afterwards. 

He had been paying such close attention to the rapidly-closing distance between the two trains that he completely missed the start of the banked curve until he was leaning into it. The rails bent underneath him and the ties whipped past at an odd angle as the whole world tilted a few degrees. They weren’t going slow, by any means, but the sensitive equipment in the coaches (and his years of experience) told him that they could have been going much faster. 

“Oh Murg… you might want to speed up…” he sing-songed. “They’re gaining on us…”

“Who’s gaining on us? What?!” Murgatroyd was oblivious, as was his wont. 

John wanted to say something else, but his voice failed him as he watched the container train, with low-loaders on the front, rocket through the curve at speeds that he didn’t even want to contemplate. 

A train passed on one of the other lines, and he watched the smoke from its stack get whipped and roiled by air currents of the two trains passing each other. 

Seconds later, Pip and Emma passed the train, streaking through the remaining smoke, and the force of their passage tore the cloud to ribbons. 

---

🎶They all said I'd best give it up

What a fool, to believe their lie-ie-ies!

Now they've fallen, I'm at the top

Are you ready now to die-ie-ie?🎶

---

Pip was high on speed, and she was loving every second of it. 

Emma was right behind her, literally and metaphorically; the sensation of pure motion and velocity was coursing through their systems like a drug. 

In front of them, so close one could almost reach out and touch it, was the New Measurement Train. John was watching with restrained giddiness as they started to draw abreast of him. He said something, but the wind whipping by erased all sound. There was just speed, and that was more than enough. 

Slowly, they pulled even with the coaches, and with each window they passed, another Network Rail employee could be seen looking up in astonishment. 

In Pip’s cab, the driver was holding onto the controls with a white knuckle grip. Officially, he was the driver, he was in control of the train. Realistically, he was nothing more than a rider on a bucking bronco. He surveyed the line ahead, and gulped. 

Behind Pip and Emma, Thomas’s eyes were right in the most turbulent part of the wake that followed the diesels. Air, superheated and filled with grit and soot from twin exhausts, poured into his eyes and swirled around his face. He couldn’t hear, he could barely see. 

Behind him, the wind whipped through the turbine blades of the jet engine on the next low-loader. It had been secured for transport, so the blades didn’t move, but the wind rushing through it created a high-pitched howling noise that simply added to the cacophony. 

Lost in the chaos of the wind and the noise and the exhaust, the container wagons and the low-loaders were holding onto each other for dear life. 

“I’m not designed for thiiiiis!” one of them shrieked. 

“None of us are!” the wagon ahead of him bellowed. “Just keep holding on a little longer!” 

--

At the head of the NMT, Murgatroyd was trying very hard to ignore the slight off-beat throbbing coming from cylinder four. Something was amiss with it - what it was, he didn’t know for certain. Driver didn’t know either - blasted man hadn’t turned a wrench a day in his life; wouldn’t know the difference between an allen key and the keys to a house! 

Of course there weren’t any fitters on board - “economic savings” kept them at home base - so he just had to deal with it. 

Just so long as the underlings didn’t notice, everything would be fine-

“Oh Murgatroyd…”

“Yes, John?”

“You might want to look around...”

He looked off towards the Up lines, and was rendered momentarily speechless by the sight of Pip smiling wickedly at him. 

“T-that’s not possible,” he said once he found his tongue. “That isn’t possible!” 

---

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive...

I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top?🎶

----

Moments earlier

“So how late do you think we’re going to be?” Percy asked as the train rumbled through Kellsthorpe Road station. 

“Oh,” Henry pondered. “We’re only allowed to do 45, and we’ve got to drop off the aluminium at Killdane, so probably two or three hours if we lose our path at all. Which we will.”

“Thomas is going to be absolutely livid when I get back.” Percy said from atop his low loader. “He was supposed to go in for his new cylinder block today, so if I’m not back, they’re going to have him stay in steam all day.”

“Oh, he won’t be thrilled about that.” Henry chortled. “I swear, he’s the only engine who likes going to the works.” 

“They treat him the same way James treats himself. Of course he likes going there!”

“Hah! I hadn't considered that-oh dear…” Henry trailed off mid-sentence. 

“What?”

“It appears that we’re about to go down the middle between Pip and Emma, and their favorite siblings.”

“What? The banana? Oh great.”

“Yes, they- oh goodness they’re quick-”

Anything else Henry said was lost to the deafening thunderclap made as the New Measurement Train and the Container Express roared past on the opposing lines. The wind felt like it was going to knock him clean off the rails, and Percy yelped in surprise as debris and exhaust fumes swirled around him like a hurricane. His boiler, a stout construction that could hold hundreds of pounds of pressure, felt like it was flexing and bowing from the vibrations in the air. He watched in open-mouthed shock as Henry’s cab windows were sucked out of their frames from the differential pressure, and were hurled through the air followed by every loose object in the cab, from hats and coats, to papers and even a coal shovel!

Behind and in front of Percy, open wagons of stone, and the coal from Henry’s tender sent huge plumes of dust and debris into the air, swirling and mixing into a funnel cloud that wrapped around the rear of the train. It danced in the tornadic airflow for a few seconds, before dissipating as the trains parted once more. 

The silence afterwards was deafening. 

“DID I LOSE A WINDOW?” Henry asked, almost unable to hear himself speak, as his driver applied the brakes and stopped the train. 

Percy tried to make the ringing in his smokebox cease. Closing his eyes, he suddenly remembered seeing something in the fraction of a second before the world went topsy-turvy. “Wait a tic. Was that Thomas?”

“WHAT?”

---

🎶 What were you thinking, telling me to change my game?

This style wasn't going anywhere; it was kaput!

You want to see what I've done with this place; this whole thing?

You want to see that I changed the game?

No, I AM the game!

Before I knew where this was going, I would've listened to you

Right now, I distance myself from what you have to say!

I made this something way bigger than you're ever gonna be

I made it this far; and I'm taking it to the top 🎶

----

Pip and Emma laughed gaily as they overtook the NMT, and powered on towards Kellsthorpe Road like they weren’t towing several hundred tonnes of freight train behind them. 

Murgatroyd gaped in shock as he was passed by the steam engine they were carrying as cargo. 

The shock quickly turned into outrage, and he felt the red-hot sting of being one-upped surge through his system. His engine began to rev higher, urging the train to move faster damn it. 

“Whoa there,” his driver exclaimed, laying a firm hand on the controls. “We want to make it to the mainland, right?”

“I don’t care!” Murgatroyd ground his teeth, watching as the container wagons slipped past him. “They can’t win!” 

But no matter how he tried, his driver wouldn’t let him speed up. 

He howled and roared impotently as Pip and Emma got further and further ahead. 

---

On the platforms of Kellsthorpe Road station, several surveyors were getting measurements of the newly-relaid line. 

Looking down the magnified optics of a theodolite, the true character of the railway could be seen. What appeared to be a straight and flat section of line was actually a ribbon of steel that undulated and flowed over the terrain. While certain sections had just been flattened and graded, it was impossible to fully eliminate the contours of the earth without starting from scratch, and so the line rolled with the small hills and invisible valleys instead of cutting right through them.

“Hey, look at that.” One of the other surveyors said from behind an optical level. “You can see the NMT from here.”

“Can you?” asked his coworker, who quickly pointed his theodolite down the line. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s just gone behind the dip. Should be back in a moment.”

He fixed his eyes on the dip in the terrain. It was actually visible to the naked eye, but its height differential - deemed to be “within acceptable limits” - and its presence directly under a road bridge - meant that it had survived the recent track relaying unscathed.  

The surveyors waited for the train to reappear, the optics of their measurement devices making things appear much larger than they really were. 

With that in mind, it was something of a surprise to see an HST appear two tracks over from where the NMT had been. They both looked to that line just in time for the train to crest the hill.

There was a brief moment, no longer than a breath, where both men could see daylight shine underneath the train as all the wheels left the ground.

----

Pip and Emma hooted and hollered with glee as they roared through the approach to Kellsthorpe Road station. High speed crossovers and the new banked curve meant they didn’t have to check their speed in the slightest as they charged onwards. 

The station came and went in a flash, and they leaned into the new corner at unprecedented speeds. Behind them, Thomas wailed loud enough to be heard over their motors, but they paid him little mind; they didn’t realize - or understand - exactly what he was experiencing. 

Behind them, now far into the distance, the New Measurement Train was just rolling into the station. 

They had won. 

---

🎶 I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive...

I came up from the bottom

And into the top

For the first time I feel alive!

I can fly like an eagle

And strike like a hawk

Do you think you can survive... the top? 🎶

----

Further up the line, Bertie the bus was pulling up to a level crossing, just as the gates went down. 

“That was a great song on the radio, wasn’t it?” he said to his driver, who was thoroughly regretting turning on ManxPirate, thanks very much. “I feel like I should be racing something! Ooh! I know! The next train that comes by, we’ll try and chase it, huh? Just like the old times with Thomas!”

Honk-Honk

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Whooooooooooooooooooooosh

The train passed in just a few seconds. 

“Nevermind.”

-----

The song wound down to a stop, but Pip and Emma continued charging on. 

The guard went so far as to pull the fuse on the radio, hoping that it would calm them down, but they were too far gone to consider dropping their speed until they reached Crovan’s Gate station. There, the speed limit dropped to 90; normally a mild inconvenience, but today it felt like they’d dropped an anchor behind them. 

Still, they continued merrily along through the station as fast as was allowed (much to Thomas’s dismay) and continued east along the line. 

As they cleared the station and began to speed up again, they noticed a cloud of smoke on the horizon. 

There was still one more train they could catch…

-----

Compared to everyone else in this story, Gordon was having a blissfully uneventful day. He’d managed to put that vulgar measurement train almost totally out of his mind, and was making excellent time to the mainland when one considered the workmen-caused delay at Kellsthorpe Road. 

There was a farm lane that crossed the tracks near Henry’s tunnel, and he whistled for it. 

Honk-Honk

He was most surprised to hear a horn respond to him, and was flabbergasted to see Pip, then Emma, and then Thomas pass him like he was standing still!

“HiGordonByeGordon!” “HiGordonByeGordon!” “GORDON HELP ME!”

The train raced into the tunnel and vanished from sight. 

Gordon could not believe what he had seen!

----

Eventually, the speed limits dropped, and the four track main line merged into two just after Vicarstown. Rolling over the lift bridge at a sedate twenty miles an hour Pip and Emma finally began to come down off their “runner’s really high.”

“That was great!” Pip gushed. “Just the sort of run we needed to clear everything out, am I right?”

“Uh, Pip?” Emma began to notice the state of Thomas. “I think we miiiiight have overdone this a little.”

Thomas could only whimper in agreement! 

----

By the time the New Measurement Train rolled into Barrow station some thirty minutes later, Pip, Emma, and Gordon were all trying to console Thomas, to limited success. 

“...Ahem!” Murgatroyd tried to slink into the station totally unnoticed, but John had no compunctions about making sure they were seen. “So, I assume that you two will be conducting all of this railway’s freight services from now on?”

“Oh,” Pip’s smile was very guilty looking as she turned away from the still shell-shocked Thomas. “Yeah. About that…” She swallowed deeply. “I’m… sorry about… y’know. All of that. The overtake.”

“What, me? Overtaken?” Murgatroyd tried and failed to play dumb. Well, a different kind of dumb from usual. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pip’s smile grew much harder edged, and Gordon took the moment to intercede. “Look, Pip. You don’t owe that any apology of any form.” 

Murgatroyd looked aggrieved. Gordon turned on him next. “And you. You are an uncouth abomination who have done nothing useful at all. Take the apology, cause no more trouble, and find yourself a better attitude elsewhere.”

Murgatroyd puffed himself up with self-righteous fury, and John regretted being an instigator. 

“WELL, I-” He started.

“Oh shut up!” Thomas bellowed. “Stop talking before I come down there and peel you, you great useless banana! Everything that’s happened to me today is all your fault!” 

 Murgatroyd quailed under the impressive amount of vitriol Thomas was spewing, and he left in a chastised burst of soot and clag. John followed in his wake, not sure what, if anything to say. “Bye Pip. Bye Emma.”

Once the NMT had vanished from sight, Pip, Emma, and Gordon turned their attention back to Thomas. 

“Great useless banana?” Gordon raised an eyebrow. 

Thomas didn’t have the energy for a proper comeback, and simply stared at him knowingly. 

“Fine, fine,” Gordon acknowledged the unsaid. “For an off-the-buffer moment after the day you’ve had, it was a fine jab. I’m just glad that you’re beginning to feel more like yourself.” He began to steam off towards the shed. “As such, I’ll be off.”

“Wait!” Thomas called. “Where are you going? Who’s taking me on the pick-up goods?”

“Thomas, I don’t take the pick-up goods,” Gordon called regally. “That’s what we have diesels for. I believe there’s two of them right in front of you!”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

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

Post script: Low-loaders were subsequently banned from Pip and Emma's trains

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1977 Pontiac Grand Prix

A complete reworking of the front header and bumper highlighted the 1977 Grand Prix, which was the final year for the 1973-vintage bodyshell that was set to be replaced by a downsized GP for 1978. The parking lamps were now positioned between the quad headlamps (same setup as a 1967 or 1968 Oldsmobile Cutlass), and the previous year's 'waterfall' grille was replaced by a narrower one that extended into the lower portion of the bumper. Behind the bumper were new reinforcements (mounting panels) made from aluminum rather than steel to reduce weight. In back the taillights were simplified to eliminate the weighty pot metal bezels that created the horizontal stripe effect in 1976. The same three models (J, LJ, and SJ) were carried over with engine revisions. The base Model J got Pontiac's new 135 hp (101 kW) 301 cu in (4.9 L) V8 as standard equipment, which was much too small and underpowered to propel a 4,000-pound car. Optional engines included a 160 hp (119 kW) 350 cu in (5.7 L) V8 or 180 hp (130 kW) 400 cu in (6.6 L); those two engines standard on the LJ and SJ models, respectively. The original thinking on the 301 CID engine was that the weight savings from using a significantly lighter engine would cancel out the horsepower loss from the smaller displacement. This turned out to be a major miscalculation and 301 equipped cars became much less desirable among Grand Prix enthusiasts and collectors in later years. The 301 also had a knocking (pre-ignition) problem that was later determined to be caused by the shape of the combustion chamber.

Each of those engines were Pontiac-built units as in previous years, but offered in 49 of the 50 states. Because Pontiac's own V8 engines could not meet the more stringent California emission standards set for 1977, all Grand Prixs (and other Pontiac models) sold in California were powered by Oldsmobile-built engines including Lansing's 350 cu in (5.7 L) "Rocket V8" for J and LJ, and the 403 cu in (6.6 L) Rocket V8 standard on the SJ and optional on the other two GPs in California. Due to a shortage of Olds 350 engines resulting from record sales of Cutlasses and reduced production of that engine due to a plant conversion to build a Diesel V8 beginning in 1978, a few 1977 Grand Prixs destined for California reportedly came off the line with a Chevrolet-built 350 cu in (5.7 L) V8.

Grand Prix sales increased to an all-time high of over 270,000 units for 1977, the last year for this bodystyle, despite competition from a newly downsized and lower-priced Ford Thunderbird introduced this year and a restyled Mercury Cougar XR-7 whose bodyshell switched to the T-Bird this year from the discontinued Ford Torino/Mercury Montego.

[mariacallous]

Ukraine has sufficient fuel and lubricant reserves for the heating season, ensuring stability and preventing price fluctuations, Deputy Energy Minister Mykola Kolisnyk announced on national television on Oct. 25.

"As of today, the reserves have been formed at the appropriate level. They help to balance the energy system, using various resources for generation," Kolisnyk said during a broadcast on the United News telethon.

Ukraine has imported a significant number of generators that run on diesel fuel, gasoline, or gas as backup power sources.

"For all these consumer groups, sufficient reserves have been formed to ensure that prices do not fluctuate during the winter and that we have clear confidence in the ability to have a stable heating season," the deputy minister added.

Situation in Ukraine's energy system

Then-CEO of NPC Ukrenergo Volodymyr Kudrytskyi stated on Aug. 29 that an apocalyptic scenario like a blackout this winter would not occur. Ukraine is much better prepared for the winter of 2024-2025 in terms of Ukrenergo's transport network than it was in 2022-2023.

Meanwhile, Ukrainian Prime Minister Denys Shmyhal noted on Sept. 10 that the upcoming winter could be the toughest yet. According to the Ministry of Energy, Ukraine has lost more than 9 GW due to Russian strikes in 2024, which could have supplied electricity to four EU countries.

Politico reported that the winter could be a turning point for Ukraine in the energy war, as Russia targets key substations that supply Ukrainian nuclear power plants.

The UN Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine said in its report on Sept. 19 that the electricity deficit in Ukraine could lead to power outages ranging from 4 to 18 hours per day this winter. Energy Minister German Halushchenko stated that Ukraine subsequently held talks with the UN and clarified that the organization did not have arguments for such calculations.

Energy workers completed the planned repair and put another reactor of a Ukrainian nuclear power plant into operation on Oct. 10, 11 days ahead of schedule. Thus, the state NPP operator Energoatom completed the 2024 repair campaign and prepared all nine power units located on Ukrainian-controlled territory for winter operation.

[is-this-yuri]

Hey just wanted to suggest that you could also get a used school bus for the mobile home. They can be quiet expensive but if you know where to look you can get some for under 1000 (granted I don't know what state you live in so the price could vary on that front). Plus they look perty cool :)

oops im so sorry this ask got buried for a while. anyway yeah, i've been looking at short busses along with box vans and cargo vans. a full sized bus is going to be waaay too much for me even if it's cheap. the gas mileage on diesel is great, but it doesn't compensate for the raised price, and the size would limit my parking range. i'm not even sure about a short bus for the same reason, but it would be the ideal amount of space. i think a box van that runs on gas would be the compromise. lucky for me, all of these cost about the same amount on the online marketplaces, so i can take my pick when the time comes.

for my area, the cheapest of the vehicles ive been seeing start at 3k, but a good vehicle that i can drive away and start the conversion immediately will probably be around 5-7k. i'm still looking every week to see what's new. i really need to find a vehicle cheaper than 6k or the rest of my fundraiswr money won't cover the conversion, but i can't just get a cheap broken down vehicle bc i don't know what the repair costs would be like.

you know what would be really cool tho... there's a pub around here that's using a double decker bus straight out of london as a sort of patio seating. that would make a great home, a mansion even

[ryanfrogz]

Trains Down South, 10/23/24: The Score (part 3)

Okay, no more distractions. On to my actual goal.

This was my first target. GSSX 604 is an ALCo HH660 dating back to 1940. Right next to it is GSSX 9004, an ALCo S4 from '53, and hiding in the weeds behind that is a teeny tiny Plymouth switcher. All three were previously used at nearby Gopher State Scrap & Metal and gradually retired throughout the 2000s in favor of more modern locomotives which are easier to service. The scrapyard currently uses a SW-type diesel switcher.

9004 has a pretty funny story: after a fire in the cab, it was sold to GSS&M for scrap. Rather than cutting it up, they repaired the locomotive and used it for another decade until it got sidelined. This type of thing just doesn't happen anymore!

After my business in Mankato was over with, I drove west to New Ulm. My target here was NUQX 2004, an ALCo S2 which worked for the New Ulm Quartzite Quarry. Very little information on this locomotive is available online. It arrived there in 2004 and was used to load hoppers with ballast & rock for other uses until rail service was discontinued, maybe around 2010. The quarry is isolated from the national rail grid, only accessible via a historic swing bridge which is also out of service. I sent the quarry an email asking if they would let me in to get some ground-level pictures, but I haven't heard back. :(

When most people think of vintage locomotives in New Ulm, they think of the twin GP9s that served a defunct co-op on the edge of town. I visited them earlier in the summer, and that adventure will get its own post eventually. Since I was in the area, I couldn't just not stop by again. Both are being sold for the ludicrous price of $80,000: a locomotive like this in perfect condition averages about a third of that, but these have been sitting around for a while and need some work. There's a reason nobody's bought them yet...

I found this Kansas City Southern geep idling in the New Ulm yard while leaving town. KCS power seems rather out of place in south-central Minnesota, but it's not entirely unexpected after CP took them over. Right next the yard is a big, beautiful, antique grain elevator, and the golden hour sunlight made for some wonderful photography!

[beardedmrbean]

Bulgarian state railways BDZ is offering trips on a retro train every Saturday in August from Sofia to Bankya and back, BDZ said on July 25.

The multiple unit train was produced in Austria in 1960, with technical specifications and furnishings that were very modern for its time.

Until 1994, it was used for trips by government officials.

It is currently used for hire by clients for private travel as well as for film productions and video shoots.

There will be two trips every Saturday.

The first will depart from Sofia at 8.30am and arrive in Bankya at 8.55am. The departure time for the return journey is 4.20pm, arriving in Sofia at 4.45pm.

The second will depart from Sofia at 9.40am and arrive in Bankya at 10.05am, with departure from Bankya at 6.15pm, arriving in Sofia at 6.39pm.

BDZ said that diesel engine #19 001.7 was manufactured in 1960 in SGP – Wien, Austria.

It consists of one first-class and one second-class department.

The first class compartment has nine luxuriously comfortable headrests and additional individual adjustable reading lights.

The second class compartment is made up of 28 soft seats distributed according to the 2+2 scheme.

The seats in both passenger compartments can be rotated depending on the direction of travel and adjusted to a semi-reclining position. The unit has a luxurious and precisely furnished bar with a coffee machine, a refrigerator and all the facilities for preparing cold and hot food. The price of a ticket for adult travel in both directions 30 leva, including a reserved seat. For children up to 10 years of age, the ticket is half price.

Tickets and reserved seats may be purchased online at https://bileti.bdz.bg/ and from ticket offices and railway desks in all stations in the country.

[mightyflamethrower]

You have probably not heard of the new Toyota HiLux Champ pickup. Probably because they don’t want you to know about it. “They” being the people who control the federal regulatory apparat, who don’t want you to know that people in other countries can buy a brand-new pick-up for $13,000 or so to start – something no American has been allowed to do (in America, at any rate) for more than 20 years.

And it’s more than just that. The ’24 HiLux Champ is a mid-sized pickup – not a compact. The latter was the last kind of truck you could buy here for around $13k or so brand-new, about 20 years ago.

You can guess why not – and it has nothing to do with “emissions.”

But hang on for just a second while we take a look at the truck you won’t be allowed to buy, if you’re stuck living in America.

The HiLux Champ is everything a truck used to be, beginning with affordable. It costs about half what you’d spend to buy the least-expensive new truck you’re allowed to buy in America – the Ford Maverick – which stickers for $23,920 to start. And unlike the Maverick – which looks like a truck – the Champ is a truck. Put another way, it isn’t based on a FWD/AWD layout (as the Maverick is) and it features body-on-frame construction rather than unibody construction, which is how almost all new cars are put together.

That means it’s tougher and simpler. Easier to fix – and less likely to break.

And it is affordable because it’s basic as it comes – which is how trucks used to come before a tag-team combo of government-mandated “safety” features that don’t make a vehicle less likely to crash (and in some cases, arguably, make them more likely to end up crashing) and a culture of living-beyond-our-means turned even “base” trim trucks into what would have been considered loaded trucks back when trucks were still trucks.

The HilLux Champ is like those trucks – the ones we used to be able to buy in America, some of them made by American companies. But that was a long time ago.

It is available in standard and long-wheelbase versions and with a diesel or either of two gas-burning four cylinder engines and a standard manual transmission – the latter once-upon-a-time being the standard transmission in pretty much every truck sold in America.

Ditto the regular cab – which has all but disappeared from the American truck market.

It even comes standard with AC – something that used to be optional in pretty much every truck sold in America back when trucks were still trucks and cost less rather than much more than cars, as they do now.

Just not climate-controlled, three-zone AC.

And just one air bag.

It also comes standard with configurability. Toyota designed it with pre-drilled attachment points to easily mount various types of beds, state kits, boxes – pretty much whatever the buyer would like to add to the truck. And Toyota will help the customer do that, by putting them in touch with aftermarket companies and suppliers that can help with that.

Instead of one-size-fits-all (and take-it-or-leave-it) and the price tag that comes along with it, here’s a truck that anyone who can afford a new motorcycle can afford to buy.

“Our ultimate goal,” says a Toyota spokesman, ” was to make this (vehicle) affordable and accessible. If people can afford their first car, which they can use to run a business and generate income, it will enhance their quality of life and provide new economic opportunities.“

It is unimaginable in America – what has become of America – because the American government is not interested in enhancing the quality of life of Americans – much less providing them with new economic opportunities made possible by their being able to afford a truck like the HiLux Champ. The government that rules Americans wants Americans to be endlessly struggling just to make ends meet, a goal that is achieved by making everything cost more than they can afford. Picture a gerbil wheel and you will have a sense of the plan.

The object being to prevent the accumulation of capital by average people, so that they never become capitalists. That being a threat to state capitalism – i.e., the ownership of essentially everything that matters by the government and the corporate lampreys that feed off of it.

This is achieved by arranging things in such a way that most people spend whatever they earn just to keep up with their debts. This serves the corollary interests of the government and the financial system that bought the government more than 100 years ago (if you’re interested in learning more about that, Edward Griffin’s Creature from Jekyll Island is an excellent primer).

And that is why Americans aren’t allowed to buy a $13k pick-up like the HiLux Champ.

Not because of “emissions” – which are just another bogey. The Champ’s engines do not pollute. But they aren’t compliant – with the very latest American emissions standards, which is not the same thing (or even in the same ballpark) as “polluting.” The Champ meets “Euro5” emissions standards, which allow for almost no emissions. But that is not good enough for the American regulatory apparat, which uses the pretext of “emissions” and the lie that trucks such as the HiLux Champ “pollute” to keep them out of the hands of American buyers.

So as to assure that American buyers aren’t able to buy – as opposed to endlessly make payments on – a truck like the Champ that they might be able to pay for in cash. Or pay off in a year or two.

And so be able to accumulate capital (wealth) rather than live hand-to-mouth.

And there you have it.

Or – rather – there you can’t have it. And now you know what – and why.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

On September 22, I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

#20yrsago Fashion is a commons: copying is the sincerest form of flattery https://www.npr.org/2003/09/18/1434815/fashion-industry-copes-with-designer-knockoffs

#20yrsago We all pay Hollywood’s price for DVD https://memex.craphound.com/2003/09/18/we-all-pay-hollywoods-price-for-dvd/

#15yrsago California’s Prop 8 would end same-sex marriage https://www.youtube.com/user/NoOnProp8dotcom

#15yrsago EFF sues Cheney, Bush, and the NSA to stop illegal wiretapping https://www.eff.org/press/archives/2008/09/17-0

#15yrsago Copyright’s Paradox: brilliantly argued scholarly book tackles free speech vs. copyright https://memex.craphound.com/2008/09/18/copyrights-paradox-brilliantly-argued-scholarly-book-tackles-free-speech-vs-copyright/

#10yrsago Scientists march across Canada, fighting the Tory war on facts https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/scientists-aim-to-put-state-of-canadian-research-in-the-public-spotlight-with-demonstrations/article14332546/

#10yrsago Patent trolls Lumen View: “Calling us patent trolls is a hate crime, now you owe us even more money” https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2013/09/angry-entrepreneur-replies-to-patent-troll-with-racketeering-lawsuit/

#10yrsago Tim O’Reilly explains the mistakes he made and the lessons he learned http://radar.oreilly.com/2013/09/how-i-failed.html

#10yrsago Diesel Sweeties music humor book: I’m a Rocker, I Rock Out. https://memex.craphound.com/2013/09/18/diesel-sweeties-music-humor-book-im-a-rocker-i-rock-out/

#5yrsago Security researchers can access and modify security footage from Nuuo surveillance systems https://www.zdnet.com/article/hackers-can-tamper-with-surveillance-camera-footage-due-to-new-zero-day-vulnerability/

#5yrsago Happy Day Against DRM! How We’ll Hill-Climb Our Way to Glory! https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/09/defeating-drm-hill-climbing-our-way-glory

#5yrsago Edward Snowden on Malkia Cyril, a multigenerational black rights activist on the front lines of the surveillance wars https://www.wired.com/story/wired25-edward-snowden-malkia-cyril-activist-surveillance/

#5yrsago Evidence of NSO Group surveillance products found in 45 countries, including notorious human-rights abusers https://citizenlab.ca/2018/09/hide-and-seek-tracking-nso-groups-pegasus-spyware-to-operations-in-45-countries/

#5yrsago Seattle can’t afford to fund arts, housing or tourism, but it can find $135 million to repair the Mariners stadium https://www.thestranger.com/news/2018/09/17/32479271/king-county-council-will-give-the-mariners-135-dollars

#5yrsago Podcast: Today, Europe Lost The Internet. Now, We Fight Back. https://ia802809.us.archive.org/6/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_297/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_297_-_Today_Europe_Lost_the_Internet_64kb.mp3

#5yrsago #SAD: Doonesbury’s collected Trump strips afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/18/sad-doonesburys-collected-trump-strips-afflict-the-comfortable-and-comfort-the-afflicted/

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Petrobras' new CEO upholds current pricing policy

The new CEO of Brazil's State-run oil company Petrobras Monday defended during a press conference the company's current pricing policies to preserve domestic market stability, Agência Brasil reported. Magda Chambriard had been on her post three days after a reshuffle ordered by President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva.

“Petrobras has always worked in line with international price trends. Sometimes a little higher, sometimes a little lower. What is highly undesirable is that you bring price instability to Brazilian society every day. Petrobras has always ensured this stability,” Chambriard said.

“Recently, we had a scenario in which the prices of gasoline, diesel, and derivatives in general were extremely high. President Lula, in his election campaign, promised to lower prices. And how has this been done? Now, is it fair to charge the same price for a product that I don't import as for a product on the international market that pays for freight, insurance, import risk, and importer earnings? All of this is present in a great formulation that has made the price of fuel more Brazilian,” she added.

Petrobras' current fuel pricing policy was adopted in May last year and represented the end of the International Parity Price (PPI), which had been in place for more than six years. Since 2016, prices charged domestically were linked to the international market based on the price of a barrel of Brent crude oil, which is calculated in US dollars. This practice led to the distribution of record dividends to the company's shareholders. In the current model, Petrobras does not stop taking the international market into account but incorporates references from the domestic market, it was explained.

Continue reading.

[alisaint]

Hundreds of protesters have taken to the streets in Cuba in recent days, furious over the lack of food and electricity. With chants of "hunger" and "we want food," the demonstrations have centered in Santiago de Cuba, the country's second-biggest city, and surrounding towns in the southeastern area of the island. They are the biggest anti-government protests since 2021, when thousands of Cubans took to the streets, triggering a massive crackdown by the state. Since then, the economic situation has deteriorated further, and analysts say the crisis is the worst in at least three decades. Claribel, 58, a resident of Santiago, says hardly a day goes by when there aren't at least five hours of power outages. Food is in such short supply that her 2-year-old great-nephew is being fed juice instead of milk. Public transportation has dried up because of a lack of fuel. "The situation here is horrible," Claribel says. "To live in Cuba is a tragedy." NPR is withholding her last name for her safety. Cuba's economy began tanking during the pandemic, when international tourism plummeted and inflation soared. During that same period, former President Donald Trump imposed a range of sanctions on Cuba after re-designating the country a "state sponsor of terrorism." But conditions in the country have rapidly spiraled in recent months, especially in poorer regions outside of the capital of Havana. Fuel prices have increased five-fold since the beginning of March. The cost of public transportation has also soared, to the extent there is any. The Cuban government suspended all sports tournaments because of a lack of transportation. Blackouts have become a constant. The communist government — which uses a rationing system to provide a certain amount of food per household — has even started limiting its allocations of bread to children and pregnant women. Some analysts say conditions are worse than the economic crisis that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, a time known as the Special Period. "I was a kid but I recall that during the Special Period we got a ration of bread daily. Every Cuban. Not this time," says Ricardo Torres, a Cuban economist at American University in Washington, D.C. He says Cuba's problems, from food shortages to power outages, are the result of the country's massive financial deficit and lack of money to pay for imports. Dilapidated power plants have shut down and there's not enough fuel to power those still working. "Around 95% of Cuba's electricity is produced by power plants that burn oil. Fuel oil, diesel, even crude oil. So if you don't have the fuel, you cannot operate the plants," Torres says. In other words, he says, there's "no fuel, no electricity."

For more than two decades, Cuba relied on oil-rich Venezuela — a political ally — for crude and fuel in exchange for sending doctors and school teachers to the South American country. But as Venezuela's oil production plummeted in recent years, so did its generosity toward Cuba. Russia is now believed to be sending a large oil tanker to help the island amid the shortage, according to news reports citing a researcher at University of Texas who closely tracks shipping to Cuba. Cuba's president said in a statement his government will address protesters' concerns, but also denounced "enemies of the revolution" for trying to destabilize the country and accused the U.S. of stoking the protests. A spokesperson for the Cuban government blamed the economic crisis on decades-old U.S. sanctions that have complicated the island's purchase of fuel and food. That's partially true, says Johanna Cilano Pelaez, a researcher with Amnesty International. "But it's irresponsible to blame U.S. sanctions alone for the state of the Cuban economy," she says. For now, the Cuban government's response to the protests has been relatively subdued compared to 2021, when hundreds of demonstrators were arrested and some sentenced to up to 25 years in prison. While authorities have detained some protesters in recent days, they have also given out extra rice, milk and sugar in an effort to appease the growing outcry. In Santiago de Cuba, Claribel says Cubans' anger and frustration are beginning to outweigh their fear of government retaliation. "The people aren't going to back down," Claribel says. "If there hadn't been protests, we would still be without rice and chicken." When she heads out to demonstrate, she plans to bring her grandchildren. "They can't touch the children," she says.

[reasonsforhope]

"In cities across the country, people of color, many of them low income, live in neighborhoods criss-crossed by major thoroughfares and highways.

The housing there is often cheaper — it’s not considered particularly desirable to wake up amid traffic fumes and fall asleep to the rumble of vehicles over asphalt.

But the price of living there is steep: Exhaust from all those cars and trucks leads to higher rates of childhood asthma, cancer, cardiovascular disease, and pulmonary ailments. Many people die younger than they otherwise would have, and the medical costs and time lost to illness contributes to their poverty.

Imagine if none of those cars and trucks emitted any fumes at all, running instead on an electric charge. That would make a staggering difference in the trajectory, quality, and length of millions of lives, particularly those of young people growing up near freeways and other sources of air pollution, according to a study from the American Lung Association.

The study, released [February 28, 2024], found that a widespread transition to EVs could avoid nearly 3 million asthma attacks and hundreds of infant deaths, in addition to millions of lower and upper respiratory ailments...

Prior research by the American Lung Association found that 120 million people in the U.S. breathe unhealthy air daily, and 72 million live near a major trucking route — though, Barret added, there’s no safe threshold for air pollution. It affects everyone.

Bipartisan efforts to strengthen clean air standards have already made a difference across the country. In California, which, under the Clean Air Act, can set state rules stronger than national standards, 100 percent of new cars sold there must be zero emission by 2035.

[Note: The article doesn't explain this, but that is actually a much bigger deal than just California. Basically, due to historically extra terrible pollution, California is the only state that's allowed to allowed to set stronger emissions rules than the US government sets. However, one of the rules in the Clean Air Act is that any other state can choose to follow California's standards instead of the US government's. And California by itself is the world's fifth largest economy - ahead of all but four countries. So, between those two things, when California sets stricter standards for cars, they effects ripple outward massively, far beyond the state's borders.]

Truck manufacturers are, according to the state’s Air Resources Board, already exceeding anticipated zero-emissions truck sales, putting them two years ahead of schedule...

Other states have begun to take action, too, often reaching across partisan lines to do so. Maryland, Colorado, New Mexico, and Rhode Island adopted zero-emissions standards as of the end of 2023.

The Biden administration is taking similar steps, though it has slowed its progress after automakers and United Auto Workers pressured the administration to relax some of its more stringent EV transition requirements.

While Barret finds efforts to support the electrification of passenger vehicles exciting, he said the greatest culprits are diesel trucks. “These are 5 to 10 percent of the vehicles on the road, but they’re generating the majority of smog-forming emissions of ozone and nitrogen,” Barret said...

Lately, there’s been significant progress on truck decarbonization. The Biden administration has made promises to ensure that 30 percent of all big rigs sold are electric by 2030...

Such measures, combined with an increase in public EV charging stations, vehicle tax credits, and other incentives, could change American highways, not to mention health, for good."

-via GoodGoodGood, February 28, 2024

[mikeepoos-mechanical-mix]

Eye Bleach Time

Coachbuilt Chrysler PT Cruiser Embraces Vintage Car Styling

Love them or hate them, most of us will remember the public release of the Chrysler PT Cruiser, with the first models hitting production lines in early-2000 for the 2001 model year. The retro-styled compact car certainly made waves. During the PT Cruiser’s 10-year run, Chrysler made 1.35 million models to keep up with public demand, a surprising number to those who love to loathe them.

Hurtan, a coachbuilding company set in Spain, embraces the PT Cruiser’s retro styling and bumps up the vintage vibes. While PT Cruiser designer Bryan Nesbitt (who also designed the Chevrolet HHR), shaped the PT Cruiser to take styling cues from 1930s vintage cars, Hurtan takes the overall design a step further.

Hurtan’s coachbuilt PT Cruiser, named the “Author Berlina,” is offered in sedan or convertible body styles. The rounded roofline is reminiscent of the original production car, but then the lines flow into a pre-war body style with pronounced fenders, a vintage Bugatti-like grille, rounded headlights, fog lights and taillights, and a continental kit in the rear.

The interior received a more luxurious revamp with many traits of the original PT Cruiser still evident. We assume that by contacting the company, customers can specify specific options for customization to make the car their own.

According to the website, electric windows, power steering, air conditioning, and a dual airbag are all included. Available drivetrains include a 116-horsepower 1.6-liter engine or a 150-horsepower 2.2-liter CRD diesel engine, both paired with manual transmissions, and a 143-horsepower 2.4-liter gasoline-powered engine with the choice between an automatic or manual transmission.

Poking around on the website didn’t reveal much for pricing, but a previous report by Motor1 stated that the pseudo–Art Deco PT Cruisers start at around $40,000, which is arguably a fair price for a luxury coachbuilt vehicle.

[sunburnacoustic]

Muse: The band who fell to earth

Music journalist Simon Price talks to Muse ahead of their 2004 Glastonbury headline set, for The Independent. Sunday, 20 June, 2004. From the archives.

Good news! It's been a while since a group arrived fully formed from outer space. But here they are, primed and ready to storm Glastonbury, phase-shifters set to stun. Simon Price hits the road to Rome with neo-prog-rockers Muse, to reflect on the plenitude of old buildings, onrushing stardom and the place of guitar overload in the music of J S Bach.

Rome is a city where the present tarantellas chaotically with the ancient past, a surreal, anachronistic jumble of 20th-century, Renaissance and first-century architecture. Turn one corner and you're in La Dolce Vita, another and you're in Caravaggio, another and you're in Gladiator.

Rome is a city where the present tarantellas chaotically with the ancient past, a surreal, anachronistic jumble of 20th-century, Renaissance and first-century architecture. Turn one corner and you're in La Dolce Vita, another and you're in Caravaggio, another and you're in Gladiator.

In the heatlamp-intense glare of the afternoon sun, Muse do not especially resemble intrepid, Icarus-like rock visionaries whose musical ambition knows no restraint. If anything, in their brightly coloured Diesel shirts and three-quarter-length trousers, they look like anonymous, carefree Inter-railers seeing the sights.

The locals, however, are not fooled. As Matt Bellamy (vocals, guitar, piano), Chris Wolstenholme (bass) and Dom Howard (drums) laze by the Fontana di Trevi, where Anita Ekberg frolicked so iconically, or stroll down the Spanish Steps (until they are shooed away by a rather camp sailors' parade), they are regularly accosted by thrilled Italians asking for photos and autographs.

Bellamy, Wolstenholme and Howard all arrived in the sleepy Devon resort of Teignmouth from other parts of England. Instant outsiders, they bonded, and spent their teens getting into mild mischief, sneaking into the Single Parents Club in Winterbourne on Mondays and Tuesdays, hanging around in Poole drinking cider and playing football, and getting their heads kicked in for having long hair. "We were 14," Bellamy recalls, "and Howard was getting beaten up by 25-year-old men. It was that kind of place." Music was mainly a means to an end. Bellamy, whose father, George, played guitar in the Sixties instrumental group The Tornadoes studied the clarinet from the age of nine and had dreams of becoming a serious jazz musician. That all changed at the age of 13, when he played a Ray Charles blues piece on the piano at a talent contest. "I somehow pulled a girl, and I realised that music was a way to get female attention."

The three future Musos all joined various bands. "Dom's band was the cool one," Bellamy concedes. "They'd rent out a leisure centre, and all the kids would go to their gigs, smoke cannabis and so on." Things became a little more serious when the trio formed their own band. After working through names like Carnage Mayhem, Gothic Plague, Fixed Penalty and Rocket Baby Dolls, and frustratingly finding themselves obliged to play cover versions, they wisely settled on Muse.

With the invaluable help of the techno wizard Tom Kirk - the band's unofficial fourth member who drove them to London for their first gig in the capital, designs their live visuals and keeps a video diary of all they do - Muse were ready for take-off.

After attracting much attention at the 1998 In The City seminar in Manchester, the trio were invited to play similar showcases in New York and Los Angeles, winning record deals with Madonna's Maverick label in the States and Mushroom in the UK.

Their debut EP, Muscle Museum, and album Showbiz, produced by John Leckie(who also produced Radiohead's The Bends), won them a following from the kind of angsty teens who were already listening to bands like Placebo and the Manics, but sceptics dismissed them as a bunch of whiny sub-Radiohead wannabes. I should know. I was one of those sceptics.

For me, it all began to change with the release of "Plug In Baby", a single which sounded like a hotwired hybrid of Air's "Sexy Boy" and JS Bach's Toccata and Fugue, and the second album, the awkwardly titled Origin of Symmetry, in which they perfected a baroque'n'roll sound which combined operatic vocals with quasi-classical keyboards, Hendrix-like guitar overload, and at some points, church organs.

Muse were burning the punk rulebook. They were fearlessly resurrecting the banished ghosts of prog rock, and making music which was unashamedly pompous, histrionic and skyscrapingly ambitious. It was, in their phrase, hyper music.

At first I couldn't handle it. Slowly, I learned to love it. The clincher was their undeniably exciting live show, as encapsulated by their extraordinary appearance on this year's Brit Awards with which, to the minds of many viewers, they stole the show from that night's big winners, The Darkness. I ask if they have been aware of the way in which perceptions towards them have changed.

Howard is impish and smiley; Wolstenholme is the strong silent type; Bellamy is thoughtful and intense. Invariably, it is he who answers first.

"In the beginning," he says in the cool of the dressing room of the Stadio Centrale Del Tennis, "it was because we were young, and people thought we were just following in the footsteps of other bands." (He's right, of course. And some of those bands have been less than gracious about it. At this year's NME Awards, Thom Yorke - accepting the gong for Best Video - sneered: "We were up against some stiff competition there... what a shame Muse didn't win!")

Bellamy adds: "I think we've always been seen as an alternative band by which I mean that we're a band that has never really had its time. We've always been outside of all those. When nu-metal was big, we used to be seen in the same bracket as Coldplay, Radiohead, Travis. Now we're seen as quite rockin' - or maybe to the retro scene. What we've become alternative to has changed."

Muse now play with the assurance of a band who know that their pyrotechnics, both aural and visual, can win over pretty much any crowd. "We played a metal festival in Portugal the other day, and we were pretty nervous because the line-up was Korn, Static X, Linkin Park, and we were the only band who weren't pure metal. But we ended up going down really well. We can just about get away with playing to a metal audience without getting bottled off."

They've recently enjoyed playing to smaller, 500- to 1,800-seat venues in the United States, where the absence of the regimentation which their full visual extravaganza necessitates allowed them to play a more spontaneous, improvised set. But Muse aren't the sort of band who fetishise dingy, smoky club gigs - they're in their element playing to the masses.

Next Sunday, Muse headline the Pyramid Stage at the Glastonbury Festival. I put it to them that it's a special challenge, since they will be playing to a crowd who aren't there to see them, and indeed who bought their tickets before the line-up was announced. There's a certain pressure to unify and to entertain.

Wolstenholme is sceptical. "Sometimes it's easy to big-up certain festivals, like Glastonbury and Reading, because they were the ones we went to when we were kids. But when you've played loads of other European festivals, you look at it just like any other. But at the same time," he ponders, "it is Glastonbury..."

"Sometimes it's enjoyable," says Howard, "when you know people haven't seen you before. We do know that there will be a lot of people who aren't there to see us..." "Unless it rains," says Bellamy, "in which case they'll all go home except 4,000 Muse fans standing around in their wellies."

Ludicrous. Preposterous. Ridiculous. Absurd. Flick through any random pile of Muse press cuttings, and these words will crop up time and again. Can the band, I wonder, see where this sort of appraisal is coming from? "I think I could," Bellamy admits, "until The Darkness came along. And we had to let them take over. There was a bit of Queen in what we did, a bit of pompous rock, but now they've come along and shown people what that really is like." Listening to The Origin of Symmetry, and it's even more grandiose successor Absolution, I imagine Muse in the studio having debates on whether they can really get away with so many excessive pomp-rock flourishes.

"You'll often turn around," says Howard, addressing Bellamy, "and go: 'We can't get away with this!' And I'll go: 'Of course we can!'" I get the impression that Yes We Can invariably wins... "Definitely," confirms Wolstenholme. "There have been times when we listen to what we've done, and we've forgotten what we set out to do in the first place. And those usually are the best tracks on the album. Like 'Butterflies And Hurricanes', with those 48-track backing vocals..." "We had so many different scene changes," remembers Bellamy. "At one point there were bongos! It sounded like that percussion troupe Stomp. It sounded like that."

Yesterday, I tell them, I watched Ronald Reagan's funeral on CNN in my hotel room. The church organist played a crashing, portentous chord which reminded me of something I'd heard recently, and which made me laugh when I remembered what it was: the final note of "Megalomania" by Muse. "I can see why people are amused by it," Bellamy smiles. "It's music you can't listen to every day. If someone put it on in the background of a party, everyone would go: 'Fucking hell, turn it off!' Our music is definitely not for all occasions."

Muse's latest video, for "Sing For Absolution", is another example of the Yes We Can spirit. Most bands would baulk at a treatment which had them blasting into space on a futuristic shuttle, crashing through a meteor storm, and come skidding to Earth which, in a Planet Of The Apes-like twist, turns out to be in ruins. Muse, however, thought...

"Yeah, why not! Exactly!" Howard says. "We thought: 'Let's fly some spaceships around!'" "Something happened in the early Nineties," theorises Bellamy, "where bands started taking themselves very seriously... No, 'seriously' isn't the right word, but being very anti-everything."

There's always been an idea that "alternativeness" is about sullen refusal, about what you say "No" to. It dates right back to The Clash refusing to play Top Of The Pops. "We do say 'No' to a whole lot of stuff - teenage magazines, certain TV shows we try to shy away from... but the chance to wear a space suit? We're well up for that."

There's a famous Smiths story about Johnny Marr presenting Morrissey with what he considered to be his finest piece of music. Morrissey took it away, and came back with the lyric: "Some girls are bigger than others/ Some girls' mothers are bigger than other girls' mothers." Marr reportedly wept. When Muse have created a similarly epic piece of music, does Bellamy feel an obligation to match it with lyrics of sufficient solemnity and import? "That can be dangerous sometimes when music is written by one person and lyrics by another. But when I write something epic, I feel I have to match it, sure." Lyrically, Muse have improved noticeably since Showbiz. Gone are the vague abstractions and, while they're never completely specific either, their songs now express a similar pre-apocalyptic dread to Joy Division and The Specials in their era, or Tricky and (yes) Radiohead in theirs. "I think I'm trying to write something that genuinely means something and has a purpose," Bellamy says, "whereas in the past maybe it was vague lines strung together, abstractly. You had to read it a line at a time, and the lines never matched up.

"I've never been that confident writing lyrics," he confesses. "I've always had to do it behind the mask of a melody. I wish I could write lyrics like Tom Waits, where it's full-on stories... But as you get older, you become more open to singing things you would have said no to. I wouldn't sing lyrics like 'You've got to be the best' when I was 17 or 18, because I would have thought it wasn't very cool, and a bit cheesy to sing that hook. But you get towards your mid-twenties..." Once upon a time, Muse were typical tour-bus shut-ins. No more.

"I think something happened about two or three years ago," says Wolstenholme, "where we realised we'd been to so many cities of the world, and never really seen any of them. People come up to you and say: 'Oh, you've been there, what's it like?' and you can't tell them anything." Apart from "nice air-conditioning". "Exactly. So we've been making more of an effort to get out there and take it all in."

"Now we're playing larger venues, though, it's more difficult," Bellamy adds. "Smaller venues tend to be in the town, so you step outside and you're there. Larger venues tend to be out-of-town, so you step outside and you're in... the car park. Before you know it, you've been in five car parks in five countries. So we did a bit of wine-tasting in France, went to a temple in Kyoto in Japan, did a bit of beach surfing in Australia."

"We're just trying to turn the whole thing into a bit of a holiday," grins Howard.

"I had food last night," says Bellamy, "that actually brought me to tears (mass laughter). Home-made pasta with tomatoes. It was so simple, so perfect, so intense that I started to well up! It was so fucking good compared to England. In England, tomatoes just taste of water. And these tasted of pure tomato. I was starving at the time, obviously..."

The Stadio Centrale Del Tennis is part of the vast sporting complex built on the banks of the Tiber as a monument to Mussolini's vanity. On the main piazza, a towering obelisk bears the dictator's surname, with floor tiles spelling out "DUCE DUCE DUCE", and huge blocks of stone carrying the inscription "Fascista". In Germany or Russia, they'd have torn down such an uncomfortable reminder. Not here.

But then, almost all of Rome's great monuments were built to flatter someone, whether Pope, emperor, God or gods. I ask Muse what they make of it all. "It sounds a silly thing to say," says Howard, "but everything's very old. We went to the Colosseum, but couldn't get inside 'cos the queue was so big. And I tried to go to the Vatican but they wouldn't let me in because I had shorts on. They were quite long shorts," he sulks, "they weren't Eighties running shorts... It's a shame, because I really wanted to see the Sistine Chapel."

It took Michelangelo many years to complete his great fresco. The intention was to inspire a sense of religious awe in the viewer. Can Muse identify with that kind of endeavour, to create something magnificent? I betray my question with a giveaway chuckle.

"You can always tell when journalists are trying to make you say something embarrassing," smiles Bellamy, "because they give it away by laughing." Howard is more willing to bite. "I do look at the Colosseum and think how many people and how much talent and how many years did it take to make that. I don't think people will be saying that about us in hundreds of years' time." You're so modest.

"In two thousand years' time," says Bellamy, "maybe The Beatles. But not Muse." But what about the idea of creating something purely for the glory of someone else, be they human or divine? Can you understand that? Bellamy, whose musical heroes include Debussy, Bach, Berlioz, Chopin, Rachmaninov, Liszt, Reich and Glass, thinks about this one.

"Most great composers," he agrees, "were originally making music for God. And painters. They weren't making it for money in those days, because most of them were already part of a relative upper-class. It wasn't as if you could achieve fame and fortune by doing it. Maybe by the days of Chopin, but I'm talking before that. And I think that enabled them to do something that was out of the ordinary. When someone's got that belief that they are actually in touch with God, I'm sure that brings out things which they would not have thought possible. In architecture, music and the arts, there's definitely an intelligence in the past which has gone missing. We think we're advanced now, but we've actually slipped behind."

One of the stand-out tracks on Absolution is titled "Thoughts Of A Dying Atheist". Did any members of Muse have religious upbringings? Bellamy: "No." Howard: "I got christened, but... y'know..." Wolstenholme: "No." So, will you die an atheist? "I don't know," says Bellamy. "I think it's impossible to. At the last moment you'd be going 'Please!'" If Bellamy doesn't believe in God - yet - then some of his other beliefs may raise eyebrows. He's an advocate of the theories of the writer Zechariah Sitchin, who believes that humans are the result of genetic experiments by visiting aliens.

"It's a logical explanation," Bellamy gamely maintains, untroubled by the possibility that I might be trying to stitch him up and paint him as a fruitcake.

"I think it carries weight. Evolution theory is the most widely renowned anti-religion, anti-creationist argument, but there is a loophole in it, the missing link between humans and apes, the lack of fossils. Evolution normally takes millions of years, but we seemed to advance in a very short period of time." He's in full flow now.

"In Sumerian times they calculated there were 12 planets, counting the sun and the moon - and the 12th planet is on an elliptical orbit, and every time it comes close to the earth, every 3,600 years, Biblical-level events happen. Sitchin takes it a step further, suggesting it's a self-sufficient geothermal planet - essentially a comet - with aliens on it, who experimented with chimpanzees to make us. Which explains the higher levels of thought, objectivity and so on. Our DNA is a mixture of alien and ape." Bellamy is an obsessive character. When he gets into something, he really gets into it. His current fixation is playing poker. He carries a pack of cards everywhere, and would dearly love to be on Channel 4's Late Night Poker.

"I go to a semi-legal poker club on Clerkenwell Road in London. They've found a loophole in the law where as long as you put all your money behind the counter and use chips, it's OK. I only play for small stakes, for fun. It's not really like gambling, it's not just chance: it's more advanced than just sticking your money on a roulette table. There is an element of strategy."

This, however, is about as vice-packed as things get. By rock musician standards, Muse are unusually polite, reserved young men. I only see Bellamy snap once, while he's enjoying a strawberry milkshake outside a pavement café. A corpulent, rude American woman takes an unsolicited photo of my hairdo, with a pig-like laugh, to Bellamy's disgust. "We're gonna take a picture of your arse!" he calls after her as she waddles away. They're not very rock'n'roll, as rock'n'rollers go.

"We should be dressed up like you, shouldn't we?" he jokes, eyeing my black plastic spikes. I know you went through a phase, I say. (Bellamy once sported a huge Judder Man hairdo himself.) "It comes and goes... We had a phase where we had a go," he admits, "at the full-on rock'n'roll life. It lasted about a year, then we got jaded." Nowadays the groupies are a thing of the past. Bellamy and Howard's girlfriends are here, as is Wolstenholme's wife (with whom he has three children).

"Sometimes you have the odd week where you're looking for parties, but the rest of the time you're taking it easy, relaxing on a beach." On stage, however, it's a different story. Bellamy is a man possessed. At a recent show in Atlanta, he somehow slashed his face open with the end of his guitar, leaving a laceration on his top lip which needed five stitches and must have left him looking like a gore-movie version of Moog from Will O' The Wisp.

"In your everyday life you can be reserved, but I think you become more open, comfortable, confident, relaxed on stage. The more crazy part inside gets exposed and you don't have to hide it all." Headlining one of the nights of the oddly titled Cornetto Free Music Festival (it's actually €37 to get in), Muse's intensity and energy effortlessly enraptures 6,000 Italians who know every word of every song in a language they do not understand. When he isn't pulling rock-god poses with his guitar, Bellamy leaps, Oz-like, behind a metal keyboard-pulpit known as "The Dalek", fronted by LEDs which light up every time he hits a note. It's brilliant, and it comes as little surprise to learn that Muse once considered incorporating a vampire act into the show.

Winding down backstage, and accepting with bemusement a visit from the Eighties pomp-rockers Marillion ("Who are they?" they whisper to me), Muse tell me what the future holds in store. I heard a rumour that they want to take their music into a rock-disco direction... "I think it's something we tried with 'Bliss'," says Bellamy. "I don't think we'll suddenly change genre. We may incorporate a bit of funk in there, maybe even samba... Another thing I'd like to do is take pieces of classical music, like Prokofiev, or the music from 2001: A Space Odyssey. I don't mean sample it, I mean a piece of music which goes in and out of that." Yes, he is serious. Yes, I asked. In the more immediate future, both Howard and Bellamy have started to take helicopter lessons.

"It all depends on how many hours you can do a year to maintain your licence. I've only had one lesson so far. I've always wanted to go in a helicopter, and only recently did we get to do it when we were in..." "Australia?" ventures Howard.

"No, it was the Grand Canyon. I've always been interested in flying anyway. It's the safest form of air transport." Yeah? "People think it would just drop like a stone if the engine failed, but it would just glide slowly down. The blades keep turning - the up-force keeps them spinning." Bellamy, it must be said, has something of a daredevil streak. When he isn't piloting choppers or swimming with sharks, he's being an amateur rocketeer.

"I've got a paraglider at home. It's a 50cc engine you put on your back, with a propeller on it." His eyes sparkle as he describes it. "You've got this enormous parachute, and you run down a hill to get you off the ground, then you switch the engine on. And you can stay in the air, for hours and hours and hours..." Few bands dare to fly as high as Muse. If you see them overhead, give them a wave.

[mariacallous]

A series of Russian drone and missile attacks beginning March 22 has destroyed much of Ukraine’s energy infrastructure. The damage, which will cost billions of dollars and many months to repair, has crippled Ukraine’s ability to light and heat itself for the medium term and marks a major escalation in Russia’s ongoing invasion.

The latest wave of Russian airstrikes has been notable for its breadth. Virtually every one of Ukraine’s thermal power plants has been hit along with a series of substations. DTEK, Ukraine’s largest private power company, reports that two of its thermal power plants (TPP) are no longer operational, with repairs expected to take several years. A separate plant in Kharkiv has also been seriously damaged and will take years to repair, according to regional authorities.

The specific condition of additional Ukrainian power plants remains classified, but reports of recent blackouts in multiple major cities have underlined the extent of the threat to Ukraine’s power grid. In a move indicating the scale of the damage caused by recent Russian bombing, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has ordered an early end to the country’s heating season.

Russian targets in recent days have included the Dnipro Hydroelectric Dam, sparking fears of a possible ecological disaster. The dam itself has not collapsed, but the power plant was partially destroyed and pollutants are now reportedly leaking into the reservoir. Even more worryingly, the nearby Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant lost grid connectivity due to the attack, putting its cooling systems at risk of stopping. Energoatom called the situation “extremely dangerous.”

In a further escalation, Russia has also expanded its air offensive with attacks on Ukraine’s natural gas storage facilities. These facilities, which house large quantities of gas for European customers, had not previously been targeted in earlier Russian bombing campaigns. Although the storage facilities themselves are underground, the pumping stations that allow for the insertion and extraction of gas are not.

On March 24, Russia launched approximately 20 missiles and drones at the Bilche-Volitsko-Ugerskoye storage facility, which represents around half of Ukraine’s total storage capacity. Ukrainian state-owned gas company Naftogaz downplayed the extent of the damage but did acknowledge that repairs would be necessary. Naftogaz officials also sought to reassure European storage customers that all obligations would be met by Ukraine, regardless of the Russian airstrikes.

The recent wave of Russian attacks on Ukraine’s energy system comes amid reports that the White House has been pressuring Kyiv to stop attacking Russian oil refineries due to concerns about the possible impact on oil prices ahead of the November 2024 US presidential election. Starting in January, Ukraine began a series of long-range drone strikes on refining facilities inside Russia. These attacks have succeeded in hurting Russia’s energy-dependent economy, with disruption reported to oil and oil product exports, gasoline and other fuel supplies in Russia, military fuel supplies, and Russian income from energy exports.

Global prices for crude oil and diesel, as well as other oil products, have risen in the wake of the Ukrainian attacks. This appears to be making US politicians nervous about the potential impact on their country’s forthcoming elections. Unsurprisingly, many in Kyiv have been outraged by the reported US efforts to effectively protect the Russian energy industry at a time when Moscow is bombing Ukraine’s civilian energy infrastructure and plunging entire cities into darkness. Ukrainian officials have responded by insisting Russian refineries are legitimate targets.

So far, there have been no reports of European leaders seeking to deter Ukraine from attacking Russia’s oil and gas industry, but that could change as the continent faces a range of looming geopolitical and energy market problems. Russia’s gas transit contract with Ukraine is set to expire in December 2024, with the Ukrainian authorities stating they will not seek an extension. With the vulnerability of Ukraine’s gas storage facilities now an issue thanks to recent Russian airstrikes, and with instability in the Middle East making Arabian Gulf LNG both less assured and much more expensive, Europe may soon begin to pressure Ukraine, too.

Each wave of Russian airstrikes makes Ukraine’s recovery and reconstruction more challenging while narrowing the options available to the country. Without crucial US military aid that remains held up in Congress, and faced with hypocritical but likely mounting pressure from Western capitals to play nice with Russia on energy infrastructure while Russia decimates Ukraine’s power grid, the path forward is unclear.

Instead of artificial restrictions on their own ability to strike back, Kyiv desperately needs adequate air defense systems so Ukraine can protect its power plants from Russian assaults. In the meantime, the many Ukrainians who are working tirelessly to maintain their country’s battered energy systems have a long road ahead of them.