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itsnotamatterofif · 12 days ago

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Hi Anon I’m SO sorry this took me a month! Hope you’re still here to receive this, and I hope you enjoy - warnings for…Anti-steamer sentiment? Train racism? I ran with the headcanon that GA either is or at one point was a steam engine.

✨Want a Drabble? Send me a prompt! ✨ (and I’ll answer it in a month apparently)

“I don’t want you sitting next to me, knob.”

Really, in the tight space of the temporary repair tent, it’s not like Green Arrow has a whole lot of choice. Between Tassita and Orange Flash who are laid out on the two flat beds, and Golden Eagle spreading himself across two of the pop-up chairs, there’s only one space left that Green Arrow can sit his aching body in.

Right next to Golden.

“Deal with it,” he spits back, cradling his sparkling arm as he perches as far away from Golden as possible, “maybe if you don’t want me breathing your air, you shouldn’t have started something you can’t finish, asshole-“

He’s cut off by the sharp hissing of Tassita shushing them both, groggily shifting where he’s curled on the flatbed, and all Arrow can do is huff and turn away as far as possible.

There’s a strained but nice stretch of silence after that, but all that really does is make Arrow realise how much he hurts; his entire frame aches where it’s attached to his chassis, like every piston and each rivet is tender in its placement. With every breath he takes he can feel each individual plate of metal on his body as if everything is just ever so slightly out of place, metal grinding against metal as he rolls his shoulders in discomfort. Really, the last thing he wants to be doing is sitting, but it’s the only way he can wait his turn for the repair trucks, so it’s not really a thing he has a choice in.

“I’ll fuckin’ finish it, trust me.” The silence is interrupted by Golden’s whispered hiss, angry and heated. “Once I’m back in the game, I’ll kick your ass, steamer-“

“That’s what this is about?” Arrow argues, unable to help his head whipping about, “can’t handle the fact you nearly got your shit whipped by a conversion?”

Instantly, an incredibly satisfying snarl curls across Golden’s face like smoke, acrid and vicious as he bares his teeth, and Arrow can’t help but smirk. There’s never been anything quite as fun as riling up Golden, especially not when it’s so easy to do.

“You weren’t even close,” Golden growls, and Arrow spots Tassita shifting up again in preparation.

“Oh, you just hung back to beat me up then?” Arrow asks innocently, “right - see, I thought you punched me in the face because you were threatened, but really you just wanted to be near me! Cute-“

“You shut your fuckin-“

“Is it too much to ask for an ounce of peace and quiet?” Tassita shouts, strained, and Arrow is suddenly aware that Golden is mere inches from his face, “if you’re going to fight again, go outside. Some of us actually want to recover.”

With an audible, incoherent grumble, Golden shifts back, eyes filled to the brim with hatred and locked onto Arrow like a gun barrel; there’s a moment though where the strong image breaks as he eases back, hissing through his teeth in what Arrow assumes must be pain. He likes to think he gave as good as he got, and judging by the valley of twisted metal across Golden’s back where Arrow shoved him into a safety rail, at least something he did left a lasting mark.

“I bet you’re happy,” Golden utters, a hint of pain bleeding into his tone now, “that decrepit steamer won, right? She’s probably like your grandma or something-“

“I’m not a steamer,” Arrow bites, peeling open his chest compartment to show the once shiny diesel engine chugging inside his chassis, but all Golden does is roll his eyes, “and I wanted to win just as much as you did - do you really think I’d put all that effort into a race just to help some hunk of junk win by default? Fuck off.”

Clearly frustrated, Golden huffs a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. “Whatever. At least you’re not going anywhere now.”

“Neither are you,” Arrow points out, “I dunno’ what you wanted to achieve with this - you’re just as disqualified as I am, not unless Greaseball keels over and for some reason picks you as her successor.”

“Right,” Golden mutters, a dry humourless laugh shaking his dented frame, “well, here’s to next year.”

“You just want another excuse to beat me up,” Arrow says with a chuckle, but whatever anger was there has left, only the ache and the frustration at another missed chance of failure remaining; his arm really hurts now, and there’s a visible stream of oil oozing out from under a piece of dislodged plating,

Another laugh from Golden, but this one is more real, more light. It’s kind of nice, in a way, Arrow doesn’t think he’s ever heard Golden laugh like that- what the fuck is he thinking?

“Sure,” Golden remarks noncommittally, “don’t get so close to beating me, then.”

There’s a pause as the repair trucks wander back in, sitting Orange Flash up to begin work on where their leg joint snapped, and even in Golden’s steely eyes, Arrow notices a hint of concern.

He looks over at Golden, sat awkwardly in the chair that seems too small for him now.

“No promises,” he replies eventually, “I’m not losing to you again.”

#stex #starlight express london 2024 #green arrow #golden eagle #pebs writes #skhfjsjd im so sorry this took me so long I’ve been so burnt out and jumping from idea to idea I was so out of it #but now I yearn to write #annoying how it flip flops isn’t it

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motocorsas · 9 months ago

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here's my rundown of all the new 2027 tech regulations:

the most important news is the reduction in engine capacity. the pistons are going to be reduced from 1000cc to 800cc, meaning they generate less power with each stroke. the bore of the pistons is also going to be reduced, which is the width of the piston head. the wide bores that have been in use for some time deliver more power, so reducing bore size means less fuel and air will be used with each stroke. this makes the bike slower, but more fuel efficient.

fuel efficiency has also been taken into account with the new gas tank and fuel regulations. gas tanks are being reduced from 22 to 20 liters for full races and from 11 to 10 for the sprint. essentially, since dorna has reduced bike power, they've reduced fuel capacity as well, since less fuel is needed.

this is where the new sustainable fuel comes in: the new fuel will be a mix of biofuel and synthetic, both of which have a lower power storage by volume compared to gas fuel. this will also reduce power. are you seeing a pattern?

the last time 800cc bikes were used in MotoGP, they were absolutely hated by riders. from 2007 to 2012, engine capacity was reduced from 990cc to 800cc for similar reasons as today; concerns about safety and overtaking. but the bikes were considered some of the worst to ride, due to low torque and inconsistent power delivery, meaning the bike performed best a very narrow rpm and throttle range -- step on the gas for just a milisecond longer, and you'd get shot off the bike. that made highsides much more frequent. mat oxley explains here:

the title of the article is MotoGP 800s - Rot In Peace, which feels like a grim portent of the years to come.

attempts to mitigate the engine's problems with electronics also sacrificed power and overtaking.

sound familiar? right now, riders, stewards and engineers are all complaining about overdone electronics. this brings us to the next point revealed in the presentation, that holeshot and ride height devices will be banned.

these devices program the bike body to shift up and down under certain conditions, carrying momentum and reducing drag. holeshot devices specifically program the bike to start, resulting in the classic rocket-powered starts we see today. riders plant their feet, tuck their heads down, and let the bike do the rest. holeshot devices have their negatives, especially combined with heavy aero -- plenty of crashes occur in the first few corners of a race because the overpowered start combined with heavily engineered aero shoots a rider directly into another's rear tire. this is the sacrifice made for overtuning bikes so that they're perfectly optimized.

but notably, these changes don't mitigate crashes! despite claiming to prioritize safety, reducing power on its own does not reduce crashes. less torque = slower corner exit = riders prioritizing quicker roll speed and engineers seeking higher rpms. and less power = less braking = less overtakes.

none of this is to say that the original 800cc era was inexcusably terrible or that the new era will be as well. but i don't think liberty media or dorna understand what draws viewers to the sport. in the presentation, they justify most of these changes as making bikes more "road relevant", increasing mileage and sustainability. but world superbike already exists to fill that niche, making motogp obsolete in that sense. i'm all for safe and environmentally conscious racing, but as stated above, these new regulations don't make motogp more safe. they also don't make it more eco-friendly either; ethanol fuel is nice, but it's a drop in the ocean compared to the absurd emissions generated by transporting the entire traveling circus from racetrack to racetrack. if there's anything motogp can learn from wsbk, it's a reduced calendar. less travel means less emissions, and longer breaks gives riders time to recuperate from injuries.

in their attempts to make motogp a better entertainment product, liberty media are challenging the integrity of the sport. their unnecessary limitations ignore the true root of most problems -- overworked riders and teams and a bloated schedule -- and waste money in the process. constantly changing concessions and regulations forces manufacturers to spend more and more money developing new bikes; no wonder teams have been dropping out. these concessions don't help anyone but liberty, since they can claim they've "revolutionized" the sport and made it into a safe, sustainable overtake-fest. all they've really done is sanitize it.

#if i sound angry it's because i am. no one asked for this #like no one said oh you know what would be good? rolling back the engines to the REALLY SHITTY MODEL THAT NO ONE LIKED #motogp #tech talks

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whencyclopedia · 7 months ago

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Top 10 Inventions of the Industrial Revolution

The British Industrial Revolution transformed life at work and at home for practically everyone. Noise, pollution, social upheaval, and repetitive jobs were the price to pay for labour-saving machines, cheap and comfortable transportation, more affordable consumer goods, better lighting and heating, and faster ways of communication.

Any shortlist of inventions is bound to be far from complete, but the following have been chosen not only for what they could do but also for how they permitted other inventions to become possible and how they transformed working life and everyday living for millions of people. The period under consideration is also important and here is taken as 1750 to 1860. With these criteria in mind, the top 10 inventions of the Industrial Revolution were:

The Watt Steam Engine (1778)

The Power Loom (1785)

The Cotton Gin (1794)

Gas Street Lighting (1807)

The Electromagnet (1825)

The First Photograph (c. 1826)

Stephenson's Rocket (1829)

The Electrical Telegraph (1837)

The Steam Hammer (1839)

Mass Steel Production (1856)

The Watt Steam Engine

The steam engine, which harnessed power from the expansion of heated water, is often cited as the single most important invention of the Industrial Revolution, principally because so many other important subsequent inventions used it as their power source. The steam engine was born from the necessity to pump out flooded mine shafts and enable deeper mining. The first steam pump was invented by Thomas Savery (c. 1650-1715) in 1698. In 1712, Thomas Newcomen (1664-1729) perfected his more powerful steam pump to drain coal mines of water in Dudley in the Midlands.

To make the steam engine more useful for other purposes, it had to be made more efficient both in terms of fuel consumption and power. The Scottish instrument maker James Watt (1736-1819) and Matthew Boulton (1728-1809) kept tinkering with the workings of the steam engine until, in 1778, they had perfected a separate condenser to vastly increase the engine's efficiency. Power was also increased by the steam powering the piston down not just up (hence its name, a double-acting engine), increasing the 'horsepower', a term coined by Watt. The engine also had its power converted to a more versatile rotary motion using a flywheel. Using just one-quarter of the fuel of Newcomen's engine, Watt's engine was cheap enough to use almost anywhere. Steam engines kept on evolving, notably with the expansion steam engine, and they benefitted from ever-better tool machinery that could make stronger and better-fitting parts.

By 1800, Britain boasted over 2,500 steam engines, most of them used in mines, cotton mills, and manufacturing factories. 500 of these engines were made by the Watt and Boulton factory in Birmingham. Every walk of life was affected. Steam now powered fountains, threshing machines, sewage pumps, and printing presses. Essentially, any work that required pushing, pulling, lifting, or pressing could be made much more efficient using steam-powered machines. Steam engines were harnessed for trains and steamships, and, aptly, all these uses caused a boom in the coal mining industry, which had been the origin of the machine in the first place.

#History #1778 #1785 #1794 #WHE #[#]

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scotianostra · 17 days ago

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On 19th January 1736 James Watt, developer of the steam engine was born in Greenock.

Watt had little formal education due to poor health in his youth, but pottering about in his father's shop he developed an interest in trying to make things "work like clockwork".

In his late teens he went to London to learn to be a "mathematical and philosophical instrument maker", and when he returned to Glasgow he got a job making instruments with Glasgow University, who gave him accommodation and a workshop.

In 1763 John Anderson, who featured on last Monday's post, asked him to repair an early steam engine he had acquired. This early model, known as a Newcomen engine, was very inefficient. The cylinder (where the piston was) had to be heated when steam was admitted, and then gradually cooled again to condense the steam. This wasted a lot of time and fuel. Two years later, while wandering aimlessly through Glasgow Green, Watt hit upon the idea of condensing the steam in a separate vessel. This removed the need for heating and cooling, making the engine faster, safer, and more fuel-efficient. A stone in Glasgow Green marks this spot, where the industrial revolution really began. (Later, in 1778 Watt presented Anderson with a micrometer he had designed and made, as a gesture of thanks.)

Watt went into business with Matthew Boulton, a Birmingham engineer, producing engines based on this new approach. Engineers from all the industrialised countries flocked to see their factories.

Watt's engines were initially used for pumping water from Cornish tin and copper mines. Later, the new cotton mills, which had been built near fast-flowing rivers to take advantage of water power, almost all switched to steam. Gradually, mills began to move toward the centres of population. At first, steam power was used mainly for spinning, but eventually weaving was also powered by steam engine. By 1819, the year of Watt's death, there were 18 steam weaving factories in Glasgow, with 2800 looms. (This was excellent news for factory owners, but hundreds of unemployed handloom weavers were not so enthused.) The increased power-to-weight ratio of the new engines also permitted their use for marine propulsion - in 1788 a steam-powered catamaran was taken across Dalswinton loch by William Symington.

Despite his success, Watt was a rather insecure and jealous man, who did not like others having their own ideas. When one employee of the company, a man named William Murdoch, experimented with high pressure steam engines, Watt discouraged him from patenting and continuing his work, even though his engines were potentially much better and smaller than the ones Watt himself had invented. Murdoch never patented his design, and returned to fixing Watt's own engines. (However, Murdoch did make another important contribution, to gas lighting.)

Apart from his steam research, which he originally carried out in the grounds of Kinneil House near Linlithgow, Watt was involved in many other projects. He solved the problem of how to convert the up-and-down piston movement to rotary movement (so that engines could power looms, bellows, and other mechanical devices), he created the term "horsepower", and he also invented the rev. counter, a machine for copying sculpture, and a letter copying press (a very early photocopier!).

When Watt retired in 1800, he had become a very rich man.

In 1882, 63 years after Watt's death, the British Association gave his name to the unit of electrical power - and today James Watt's name is to be found written on almost every light-bulb in the world.

Among the pics is a reconstruction of his workshop in Heathfield Birmingham.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #engineer #inventor

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canmom · 1 year ago

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entropy and life//entropy and death

This is a discussion that spun out of a post on web novel The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere. However, it's mostly a chance to lay out the entropy thing. So most of it is not Flower related at all...

the thermodynamics lesson

Entropy is one of those subjects that tends to be described quite vaguely. The rigorous definition, on the other hand, is packed full of jargon like 'macrostates', which I found pretty hard to wrap my head around as a university student back in the day. So let's begin this post with an attempt to lay it out a bit more intuitively.

In the early days of thermodynamics, as 19th-century scientists like Clausius attempted to get to grips with 'how do you build a better steam engine', entropy was a rather mysterious quantity that emerged from their networks of differential equations. It was defined in relation to measurable quantities temperature and heat. If you add heat to a system at a given temperature, its entropy goes up. In an idealised reversible process, like compressing a piston infinitely slowly, the entropy stays constant.

Strangely, this convenient quantity always seemed to go up or stay the same, never ever down. This was so strictly true that it was declared to be a 'law of thermodynamics'. Why the hell should that be true? Turns out they'd accidentally stumbled on one of the most fundamental principles of the universe.

So. What actually is it? When we talk about entropy, we are talking about a system that can be described in two related ways: a 'nitty-gritty details' one that's exhaustively precise, and a 'broad strokes' one that brushes over most of those details. (The jargon calls the first one a 'microstate' and the second one a 'macrostate'.)

For example, say the thing you're trying to describe is a gas. The 'nitty gritty details' description would describe the position and velocity of every single molecule zipping around in that gas. The 'broad strokes' description would sum it all up with a few quantities such as temperature, volume and pressure, which describe how much energy and momentum the molecules have on average, and the places they might be.

In general there are many different possible ways you could arrange the molecules and their kinetic energy match up with that broad-strokes description.

In statistical mechanics, entropy describes the relationship between the two. It measures the number of possible 'nitty gritty details' descriptions that match up with the 'broad strokes' description.

In short, entropy could be thought of as a measure of what is not known or indeed knowable. It is sort of like a measure of 'disorder', but it's a very specific sense of 'disorder'.

For another example, let's say that you are running along with two folders. Each folder contains 100 pages, and one of them is important to you. You know for sure it's in the left folder. But then you suffer a comical anime collision that leads to your papers going all over the floor! You pick them up and stuff them randomly back in the folders.

In the first state, the macrostate is 'the important page is in the left folder'. There are 100 positions it could be. After your accident, you don't know which folder has that page. The macrostate is 'It could be in either folder'. So there are now 200 positions it could be. This means your papers are now in a higher entropy state than they were before.

In general, if you start out a system in a given 'broad strokes' state, it will randomly explore all the different 'nitty gritty details' states available in its phase space (this is called the ergodic hypothesis). The more 'nitty gritty details' states that are associated with a given 'broad strokes' state, the more likely that it will end up in that state. In practice, once you have realistic numbers of particles involved, the probabilities involved are so extreme that we can say that the system will almost certainly end up in a 'broad strokes' state with equal or higher entropy. This is called the Second Law of Thermodynamics: it says entropy will always stay the same, or increase.

This is the modern, statistical view of entropy developed by Ludwig Boltzmann in the 1870s and really nailed down at the start of the 20th century, summed up by the famous formula S=k log W. This was such a big deal that they engraved it on his tombstone.

Since the Second Law of Thermodynamics is statistical in nature, it applies anywhere its assumptions hold, regardless of how the underlying physics works. This makes it astonishingly powerful. Before long, the idea of entropy in thermodynamics inspired other, related ideas. Claude Shannon used the word entropy for a measure of the maximum information conveyed in a message of a certain length.

the life of energy and entropy

So, everything is made of energy, and that energy is in a state with a certain amount of thermodynamic entropy. As we just discussed, every chemical process must globally increase the entropy. If the entropy of one thing goes down, the entropy of something else must increase by an equal or greater amount.

(A little caveat: traditional thermodynamics was mainly concerned with systems in equilibrium. Life is almost by definition not in thermodynamic equilibrium, which makes things generally a lot more complicated. Luckily I'm going to talk about things at such a high level of abstraction that it won't matter.)

There are generally speaking two ways to increase entropy. You can add more energy to the system, and you can take the existing energy and distribute it more evenly.

For example, a fridge in a warm room is in a low entropy state. Left to its own devices, energy from outside would make its way into the fridge, lowering the temperature of the outside slightly and increasing the temperature of the inside. This would increase the entropy: there are more ways for the energy to be distributed when the inside of the fridge is warmer.

To cool the fridge we want to move some energy back to the outside. But that would lower entropy, which is a no-no! To get around this, the heat pump on a fridge must always add a bit of extra energy to the outside of the fridge. In this way it's possible to link the cooling of the inside of the fridge to the increase in entropy outside, and the whole process becomes thermodynamically viable.

Likewise, for a coherent pattern such as life to exist, it must slot itself into the constant transition from low to high entropy in a way that can dump the excess entropy it adds somewhere else.

Fortunately, we live on a planet that is orbiting a bright star, and also radiating heat into space. The sun provides energy in a relatively low-entropy state: highly directional, in a certain limited range of frequencies. The electromagnetic radiation leaving our planet is in a higher entropy state. The earth as a whole is pretty near equilibrium (although it's presently warming, as you might have heard).

Using a multistep process and suitable enzymes, photosynthesis can convert a portion of the incoming sunlight energy into sugars, which are in a tasty low entropy state. This is a highly unfavoured process in general, and it requires some shenanigans to get away with it. But basically, the compensating increase in entropy is achieved by heating up the surroundings, which radiate away lower-temperature infrared radiation.

the reason we don't live forever

Nearly all other lifeforms depend on these helpfully packaged low-entropy molecules. We take in molecules from outside by breathing in and eating and drinking, put them through a bunch of chemical reactions (respiration and so forth), and emit molecules at a higher entropy (breathing out, pissing, shitting, etc.). Since we constantly have to throw away molecules to get rid of the excess entropy produced by the processes of living, we constantly have to eat more food. This is what I was alluding to in the Dungeon Meshi post from the other day.

That's the short-timescale battle against entropy. On longer timescales, we can more vaguely say that life depends on the ability to preserve a low-entropy, non-equilibrium state. On the simplest level, a human body is in a very low entropy state compared to a cloud of carbon dioxide and water, but we generally speaking do not spontaneously combust because there is a high enough energy barrier in the way. But in a more abstract one, our cells continue to function in specialised roles, the complex networks of reaction pathways continue to tick over, and the whole machine somehow keeps working.

However, the longer you try to maintain a pattern, the more low-probability problems start to become statistical inevitabilities.

For example, cells contain a whole mess of chemical reactions which can gradually accumulate errors, waste products etc. which can corrupt their functioning. To compensate for this, multicellular organisms are constantly rebuilding themselves. On the one hand, their cells divide to create new cells; on the other, stressed cells undergo apoptosis, i.e. die. However, sometimes cells become corrupt in a way that causes them to fail to die when instructed. Our body has an entire complicated apparatus designed to detect those cells and destroy them before they start replicating uncontrollably. Our various defensive mechanisms detect and destroy the vast majority of potentially cancerous cells... but over a long enough period, the odds are not in our favour. Every cell has a tiny potential to become cancerous.

At this point we're really not in the realm of rigorous thermodynamic entropy calculations. However, we can think of 'dead body' as generally speaking a higher-entropy set of states than 'living creature'. There are many more ways for the atoms that make us up to be arranged as a dead person, cloud of gas, etc. than an alive person. Worse still should we find we were in a metastable state, where only a small boost over the energy barrier is needed to cause a runaway reaction that drops us into a lower energy, higher entropy state.

In a sense, a viral infection could be thought of as a collapse of a metastable pattern. The replication machinery in our cells could produce human cells but it can equally produce viruses, and it turns out stamping out viruses is (in this loose sense) a higher entropy pattern; the main thing that stops us from turning into a pile of viruses is the absence of a virus to kick the process off.

So sooner or later, we inevitably(?) hit a level of disruption which causes a cascading failure in all these interlinked biological systems. The pattern collapses.

This is what we call 'death'.

an analogy

If you're familiar with cellular automata like Conway's Game of Life, you'll know it's possible to construct incredibly elaborate persistent patterns. You can even build the game of life in the game of life. But these systems can be quite brittle: if you scribble a little on the board, the coherent pattern will break and it will collapse back into a random mess of oscillators. 'Random mess of oscillators' is a high-entropy state for the Game of Life: there are many many different board states that correspond to it. 'Board that plays the Game of Life' is a low-entropy state: there are a scant few states that fit.

The ergodic hypothesis does not apply to the Game of Life. Without manual intervention, the 'game of life in game of life' board would keep simulating a giant version of the game of life indefinitely. However...

For physical computer systems, a vaguely similar process of accumulating problems can occur. For example, a program with a memory leak will gradually request more and more memory from the operating system, leaving more and more memory in an inaccessible state. Other programs may end up running slowly, starved of resources.

In general, there are a great many ways a computer can go wrong, and few that represent it going right.

One of the ways our body avoids collapsing like this is by dedicating resources to cells whose job is to monitor the other cells and intervene if they show heuristic signs of screwing up. This is the evolutionary arms race between immune system and virus. The same can be true on computers, which also support 'viruses' in the form of programs that are able to hijack a computer and replicate themselves onto other computers - and one of our solutions is similar, writing programs which detect and terminate programs which have the appearance of viruses.

When a computer is running slowly, the first thing to do is to reboot it. This will reload all the programs from the unchanging version on disc.

The animal body's version of a reboot is to dump all the accumulated decay onto a corpse and produce a whole new organism from a single pair of cells. This is one function of reproduction, a chance to wipe the slate clean. (One thing I remain curious about is how the body keeps the gamete cells in good shape.)

but what if we did live forever?

I am not particularly up to date on senescence research, but in general the theories do appear to go along broad lines of 'accumulating damage', with disagreement over what represents the most fundamental cause.

Here's how Su discusses the problem of living indefinitely in The Flower That Blooms Nowhere, chapter 2:

The trouble, however, is that the longer you try to preserve a system well into a length of time it is utterly not designed (well, evolved, in this case) for, the more strange and complicated problems appear. Take cancer, humanity’s oldest companion. For a young person with a body that's still running according to program, it's an easy problem to solve. Stick a scepter in their business, cast the Life-Slaying Arcana with the 'cancerous' addendum script – which identifies and eliminates around the 10,000 most common types of defective cell – and that's all it takes. No problem! A monkey could do it. But the body isn’t a thing unto itself, a inherently stable entity that just gets worn down or sometimes infected with nasty things. And cancer cells aren’t just malevolent little sprites that hop out of the netherworld. They’re one of innumerable quasi-autonomous components that are themselves important to the survival of the body, but just happen to be doing their job slightly wrong. So even the act of killing them causes disruption. Maybe not major disruption, but disruption all the same. Which will cause little stressors on other components, which in turn might cause them to become cancerous, maybe in a more 'interesting' way that’s a little harder to detect. And if you stop that... Or hell, forget even cancer. Cells mutate all the time just by nature, the anima script becoming warped slightly in the process of division. Most of the time, it's harmless; so long as you stay up to date with your telomere extensions, most dysfunctional cells don't present serious problems and can be easily killed off by your immune system. But live long enough, and by sheer mathematics, you'll get a mutation that isn't. And if you live a really long time, you'll get a lot of them, and unless you can detect them perfectly, they'll build up, with, again, interesting results. At a deep enough level, the problem wasn't biology. It was physics. Entropy.

A few quirks of the setting emerge here. Rather than DNA we have 'the anima script'. It remains to be seen if this is just another name for DNA or reflecting some fundamental alt-biology that runs on magic or some shit. Others reflect real biology: 'telomeres' are a region at the end of the DNA strands in chromosomes. They serve as a kind of ablative shield, protecting the end of the DNA during replication. The loss of the telomeres have been touted as a major factor in the aging process.

A few chapters later we encounter a man who does not think of himself as really being the same person as he was a hundred years ago. Which, mood - I don't think I'm really the same person I was ten years ago. Or five. Or hell, even one.

The problem with really long-term scifi life extension ends up being a kind of signal-vs-noise problem. Humans change, a lot, as our lives advance. Hell, life is a process of constant change. We accumulate experiences and memories, learn new things, build new connections, change our opinions. Mostly this is desirable. Even if you had a perfect down-to-the-nucleon recording of the state of a person at a given point in time, overwriting a person with that state many years later would amount to killing them and replacing them with their old self. So the problem becomes distinguishing the good, wanted changes ('character development', even if contrary to what you wanted in the past) from the bad unwanted changes (cancer or whatever).

But then it gets squirly. Memories are physical too. If you experienced a deeply traumatic event, and learned a set of unwanted behaviours and associations that will shit up your quality of life, maybe you'd want to erase that trauma and forget or rewrite that memory. But if you're gonna do that... do you start rewriting all your memories? Does space become limited at some point? Can you back up your memories? What do you choose to preserve, and what do you choose to delete?

Living forever means forgetting infinitely many things, and Ship-of-Theseusing yourself into infinitely many people... perhaps infinitely many times each. Instead of death being sudden and taking place at a particular moment in time, it's a gradual transition into something that becomes unrecognisable from the point of view of your present self. I don't think there's any coherent self-narrative that can hold up in the face of infinity.

That's still probably better than dying I guess! But it is perhaps unsettling, in the same way that it's unsettling to realise that whether or not Everett quantum mechanics is true, and if there is a finite amount information in the observable universe, an infinite universe must contain infinite exact copies of that observable universe, and infinite near variations, and basically you end up with many-worlds through the back door. Unless the universe is finite or something.

Anyway, living forever probably isn't on the cards for us. Honestly I think we'll be lucky if complex global societies make it through the next century. 'Making it' in the really long term is going to require an unprecedented megaproject of effort to effect a complete renewable transition and reorganise society to a steady state economy which, just like life, takes in only low-entropy energy and puts out high-entropy energy in the form of photons, with all the other materials - minerals etc. - circulating in a closed loop. That probably won't happen but idk, never say never.

Looking forward to how this book plays with all this stuff.

#fiction #sff #web serials #entropy #physics #biology #thermodynamics #the flower that bloomed nowhere #ok that's all i have to say about the first twelve chapters lmaooo

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blizzardfluffykpop · 11 months ago

Text

Broken Belts

Summary: Of course, the one day you decide to take it out for a spin, your classic car decides the repairs you were avoiding need immediate maintenance. Leading to you needing to head to a garage to fix them.

Oneshot

Fluff, Strangers to Dating, Fast burn?

Possible Warning?: Referring to a car as ‘Baby’.

Word Count: 4,956

‘Old-School’ Mechanic! Younghoon X Reader

[Long a/n w/info to go: If you’re changing your serpentine belt when it’s past due as you will do here, pls change the pulleys too- but rn you will not do that :) Very simplified car terminology: crankshaft: rotates pistons which runs the engine, alternator: keeps the battery charged, power steering: helps you turn easily, idler: keeps the engine running while it’s ‘sitting’, and water pump runs water throughout the system. Serpentine belt: The belt that keeps all the pulleys (that are attached to above terms) in time with each other, can be one or multiple. In this fic there will be two: A power steering serpentine belt & an air conditioning belt. Lastly, the two cars featured are a: ‘70 Boss 302 Mustang and a ‘71 Maverick. Lastly but not least; a special thanks to @jinkoh for helping inspire another Younghoon fic.].

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You knew better. You swore you knew better, but even with the loud squealing of the serpentine belt, you still kept driving it. Because, of course, it wouldn’t break before you had time to change it. After all, it was just the first few days of summer. You wanted to enjoy the weekend with your Boss 302 Mustang, whether or not it was screaming. You’d replace them during the week when you had the time, but this was the first weekend, so it’d be fine. Your air conditioning had been malfunctioning recently, but in your mind, it was because the car was fifty-some years old. You just rolled the windows down and enjoyed the weather. Maybe, if it was a newer car, the computer would be screaming at you now to see a specialist. But that was the pleasure of older cars. You never had to deal with extra lights telling you the exact mileage when to do things. You could do it at your leisure, and like the serpentine belt, you’d fix it at your leisure.

So, with that thought in mind, at the turn of the green light, you slammed on the gas, the car roaring as you sped down the route ten miles over the speed limit. Your car needed to feel the breeze, even if it meant a ticket. You laugh as you continue down the sunset strip. It feels good to be behind the wheel after two seasons of waiting. You make it through two more green lights before hitting another red light. You pout and wait for it to turn green as you notice you're the only one waiting at the intersection. When the light changes, you get on it again, flying through the intersection.

You start turning your wheel to follow the curve when you hear a ‘snap’ sound over your radio. Your eyes widen as you lose power steering. Maybe it was good that your daily driver told you when to change things. “No, no, you promised me a nice weekend. Come on, baby.” You gulp as the wheel gets harder to turn. You make it past the curve, throwing your four-ways on, and a hundred feet after it, manage to pull it over onto the side of the road. You check it’s clear before popping the hood, getting out of the car, and shutting the door. You slip your fingers between the grill and opening and move the latch to the side, lifting up the hood, praying it isn’t one of the belts. You raise it until you can put the prop inside the slot. You let the hood rest on it before looking over the engine before locking eyes with the two-belt pulley system. It was the reason why you were avoiding repairing it this weekend. It was rotten to deal with one, but two? That's nightmare fuel. You look at the air conditioning belt and see it’s intact even though it’s dry-rotted. You sigh in relief before checking the power steering belt and watch as it falls off and onto the ground. You look up to the sky before shaking your head, “Well… I definitely can’t make it home, but I can get it to a garage at least.”

You get on your knees and grab the fallen belt. You check it over to see the clean snap and dry rot. And shake your head again, “There goes my nice weekend.” With a sigh, “I know, I know it’s my fault. I should have fixed you the second I heard your squealing. But I’ll fix you now, baby. It’s okay.” You look for the dimension numbers as you listen to the soft breeze. You hum as you type them on your phone as someone zooms past you reminding you you're still stuck on the road in the middle of nowhere. You lift the hood off the prop, locking it in place. You lower the hood down gently and let it drop the rest of the way. It clicks in place, and you get back inside your car.

You look up the nearest garages, looking for one with spaces to rent and a mechanic experienced in older automobiles. And luckily, the closest happens to be Younghoon’s Garage, an automotive repair shop. You read further to see he specializes in classic car maintenance and dabbles in the newer stuff. And that he allows for people to rent out garage spaces to work on their car. You sigh in relief. It was going to be okay. You didn’t have to deal with an inexperienced mechanic telling you how to work on your car. Nor did you have to worry about letting someone work on your baby, either.

You call up the garage and hear the voice of a person around your age answer, “Younghoon’s garage; what can I help you with?” You gulp your nervousness back; it's probably just the mechanic’s son taking the call. “Uh, I need to rent a garage today.” He hums on the other line, “Okay~ I have three available. Feel free to bring your car down any time today before six, or I won’t be able to let you in.” You thank him and tell him you’re two miles away and you’ll be there soon. “Okay, I’ll be waiting!” You hang up and place the belt on the floor. You turn your car over, pressing in the clutch, scolding your car, “Now, don’t give me any more troubles until we get to the shop, baby.” You shift it down to first, release the handbrake, and give it some gas before checking to see it’s clear. You grit your teeth as you turn the wheel to get it on the road before heading to the garage.

You couldn’t be happier to see the old-fashioned neon sign saying, “Younghoon’s Garage.” You groan as you turn the wheel, putting everything into it just to make it turn left. As you pull in, you see someone leaning against the entryway of a garage door. His hair is slightly in his eyes as he looks down at the ground. He looks up as you get closer, and you see him for the first time. You’ve never seen someone make a gray denim overshirt and white tee look so good. You huff out a breath as he waves you in, walking to the back of the garage. He guides you onto the lift, and if you weren’t struggling behind the wheel, you would have been stunned by his pretty smile. When he motions for you to stop, you tiredly put it into park, putting the handbrake down before turning it off. You shake your hands, getting the feeling back in them after gripping the wheel tightly to maneuver it.

You open your door and get out to see him waiting for you. He greets you with a warm smile, and you smile back as you shut the door behind you, “Hi, I’m (Y/n).” And he smiles, “Nice to meet you, I’m Younghoon.” You stop your jaw from dropping and tell him it’s nice to meet him, too. You didn’t expect him to be the owner. He looks at your car, “Your belt was squealing.” You sigh, “I know…” He shrugs as he laughs, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did the power steering belt snap? It looked like you were struggling to turn it.” You nod, and he pats your shoulder, “I’m glad you got here safe then.” You sigh, “Me too.” He smiles and tells you, “Anyways, the garage is all yours to use! If you need parts or anything. Feel free to see my office.” He points to the door that leads out of the garage. He gives you one last smile before leaving, and you smile back.

You roll down the garage door, not wanting to deal with the slight breeze blowing inside while you’re working. You prop the hood up and head to the toolboxes, looking for the sockets and wrenches. You take the socket wrench with you and test the sockets against the bolt until you find the right size. And with ease, you loosen the idler pulley. You ratchet it back into place after removing the belt. You read the dimensions and write it down on your phone before heading to Younghoon's office. You open the door and find he’s nowhere to be found. You look down at the counter, trying to figure out what to do. When you see a ripped sheet of notebook paper, “(Y/n), if you need me, I’m in the garage two doors down!” You smile, not expecting his penmanship to be so pretty. You walk out the front door and hear the loud sounds of an air ratchet. You follow them to the garage he told you he’d be in. And see him pulling a back tire off of a Maverick. You take the sight in momentarily before reminding yourself that you’re here to work on your vehicle, not admire the shop owner. You come up to him, and before you can say anything, he rolls the tire up against the wall and sees you first. “Hey, (Y/n)! Whatcha ya need?” You smile, “My belts, but I can wait for you to finish this up.” He shakes his head, wipes his hands off on a white towel, and gets off the roller, “No need! I have another hour to replace the brakes on this Maverick.” You laugh and shrug, “If you say so.”

He leads you back to the shop, and that’s when you catch the smell of his cologne for the first time. You shake your head; of course, he smells good too. He holds the door open for you and lets you in. He runs his hand through his hair as he asks, “What sizes?” You tell him, and he nods, “I’ll go get them from the back.” You watch him disappear behind the shelving units. He peeks his head out for a second, and you resist smiling about how cute he is as he asks, “Anything else?” You shake your head and tell him, “No, I’m good.” He comes the rest of the way out, and you have to remind your heart that even if looks cute, he’s just doing his job. You thank him as he gently puts them in your hands. He heads out the front door while you head back out the side door to your garage.

After setting the new ones down, you take and toss the old ones into the rubber disposable bin. You find a clean rag and wet it with soap and water to clean off the pulleys. One dirty rag later, everything is cleaned and ready for its new belts. You head to your glovebox and pull out the modified diagram you made when you last replaced the belts. You mutter to yourself, “Next time, I’m getting a serpentine kit, so I only have to fix one belt.” You sigh as you look over your notes before slipping the new power steering belt out of its packaging. You fold and put it away, having already memorized the modified diagram. You slip it underneath the crankshaft pulley, before pulling the belt up to the alternator pulley, and slipping it over it. The easy part is over. You slide it underneath the water pump before moving the belt to where the power steering pulley is to wind it around. You work the belt up to the pulley, and it starts giving you a hard time. It takes two tries before you can muster all of your strength in your hands to force it up and over. You let out a breath of relief and take a break for water, sitting on the shop chair, knowing that the worst belt was over.

You take your time before heading back to the engine. The last step would be easy. All you had to do was get this over and out of this garage, and you’d be set for the next forty to seventy thousand miles if you’d play your cards right. You sigh as you pull the big belt out of its packaging and play with it, debating if your car was worth the trouble. You shake your head, deciding to do it, checking your diagram one last time before slipping the belt under the crankshaft pulley. After several minutes of struggling, you finally get the belt over the idler pulley. You grumble at it before attempting to push it over the a/c pulley. You try several more times but continue to come up short, just getting it to skim the top of it, not being able to push it over. You decide to let it go, thinking it’ll rest on the idler, and you watch as it slips right off both and onto the ground.

Having enough, you yell at it, “You gotta be kidding me!” You get down on your knees and pull it off the floor as you hear the office door fly open. You look to see Younghoon rushing out, “I heard you yell! Are you okay!?” You glare at the belt, “I’m okay… just mad at an inanimate object.” He chuckles, “You had me worried there.” After a moment, he gently asks, “Can I help?” You give him a look, “Wouldn’t that cost more…” He shakes his head with a laugh as he tells you, “You’ve already spent three hours here. I’ve got my money's worth.” You chuckle, “I guess so. And only if you want to.” He smiles and comes around to the front beside you, “Which belt are you working on?” You pull your diagram out showing him, “The air conditioning belt.” He nods, looking over it as he memorizes it, “Okay, let’s do it together.”

He rolls his gray sleeves up before holding his hand out for the belt. You hand it over, and he has you switch sides. He reaches his arm down and slips it under the crankshaft pulley. When he lifts his head, he compliments you, “You did well on the other belt!” You thank him, and he lets you pull it over the idler, and with a struggle, you push it over. His arm brushes yours as he reaches for the belt, “You hold it tight on the idler, and I’ll try to push it over the AC, okay?” You nod and clasp your hand over it so it doesn’t move off of the pulley. And with a grunt, he shoves it over, and your jaw drops before you go, “I loosened it up for you.” He looks over at you, and he winks, “Sure.” You look away to hide your fluster making a show of picking up your socket wrench. And he asks, “What size do you have so we can make this job go quicker?” You tell him, and he walks away as you start tightening down the bolts. He leans down beside you, putting his arm inside to tighten the crankshaft pulley. As you bump his side, you look over at him and give him an awkward smile, and he laughs as he does the same. You both continue bumping into each other until it’s all set in place, exchanging little smiles each time.

Once it’s all seated in place and perfect, he goes, “Start ‘er up!” You grin, and he backs up from the front as you hop inside and turn it over, giving it some gas until it roars. You pop out, and he goes, “Well, it hasn’t come flying off yet. So I think we did a good job.” You smile, “I think so too!” You both get closer, looking over the engine, watching the two belts spin around the pulleys. You step back, and he raises his hand up, you smile as you give him a high five, and he smiles back. You head back inside your car and turn it off. When you pop back out, he asks, “What do you say to takeout?” You blink at him, “Huh?” He tells you, “You’ve been here for almost three and a half hours and haven’t eaten. And I’m quite hungry for dinner. So, what do you say to takeout?” You shake your head, “You don’t have to-” He shakes his head back at you, “No, you’ve worked your ass off to get this thing here, and then you had to struggle with these belts. So what would you like?” You smile, “Something delicious.” He nods, “I know just the place. You get everything cleaned up, and I’ll order, okay?” You nod, “Sounds good.”

He heads to his office while you put all the tools you’ve borrowed away into their proper places. Throwing the dirty rag into a bucket for rags before heading back to your car and lifting the hood up off the prop, setting that down first before you shut the hood. You head to his office to see him bringing a chair in for you to sit on and hold your hands out, “Got anywhere to wash my hands?” He nods, “Yeah,” he moves from behind his desk and shows you to it. “Feel free to use it how you like.” You nod and give him a small, “Thanks!” You make your way back just as he’s placing the bags of food down. He hears you walking towards him and goes, “Just in time~” You smile and walk over as you figure out whose box is which.

As you eat, you think about what to say to him. When it hits you, you tell him, “You know, I thought you were an old man.” He tilts his head at you as he leans back, “Why’s that?” You laugh, “You pretty much work only on classic cars. And when you answered, I thought I was talking to the owner's son or something.” He runs his hand through his hair as his lips press together, “Oh, I hope it was a pleasant surprise.” You laugh, “Yeah, it was nice.” He smiles, and after a pause, he says, “You know, we’re a little odd?” You ask, “Why’s that?” And he tells you, “We both like working on old cars.” You shake your head, “I guess we are a little odd.” You both giggle, and he claps his hands together, which makes you laugh even harder. Finding it endearing, the words, “So cute,” slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes go wide, and you quickly look down, digging into your food, acting as if your food made you say it. You don’t see his ears turn red, but you feel his stare on you as you eat, yet he doesn’t say anything. So you figure he just brushed it off. After a few moments of silence, he says, “You know I’ve never worked on a Boss until today.” You gasp, finally looking up at him, “What about ridden in one?” He shakes his head, “Never. Only ever seen them at car shows.” You smile as you tell him, “I guess we’ll have to change that. What do you say we take my car for a test drive after this?” He grins, “I’d like that.” You eat another bite, and he asks, “What do you say to ice cream?” You smile, “I’d like that. It'll be my treat for helping me.” He smiles, “Okay, and I’ll guide you to it while you show me what your baby can do~” You grin, “Okay!”

When you’ve both finished eating, you clean up your trash and toss it in the can. He clicks the button for the garage and leads you out, “I’ll have to shut from inside, but I’ll guide you off, okay?” You nod and head to your car. Hopping in, you turn it over, checking the door is fully up before you start easing the car off the lift, looking over to the side to see him motioning you. You gulp as you hear your back tires hit the ramp, and he smiles at you, encouraging you to keep going. You get your car off the lift and onto the pavement outside and watch as the garage door shuts in front of you. He comes out of the shop with his keys in hand, and you pop the door open for him, “Hi.” He smiles, “Hi.” You watch as he sinks into the seat, his knees practically to his chest. And you both laugh before you say, “You can put the seat back.” He scoots the chair and leans it back. And with a sigh, he says, “That's a lot more comfortable.” You shake your head, still laughing, “I bet.” Making sure his seatbelt is on, you ask, “Ready?” He smirks, “Born ready.”

You reverse until you can spin it around and drive onto the main route. Instead of hearing the squealing, you hear the gentle roar of your motor. And he tells you, “It already sounds better.” You smile at him as you shift into first gear, “It does.” You smoothly transition from second to third gear as you get up to speed. He relaxes in the seat as he watches you drive, and you feel excitement as you race down the road. You pat the wheel, “That’s it, baby~” Out of the corner of your eye, you see him smiling at you, “What?” He shrugs his shoulders, “Nothing.” You ask, “You sure?” He smiles, “You just look good behind the wheel.” You blush, “Is that so?” He hums, “Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything else, and you both listen to the radio, unsure of what else to say.

You shift it into fourth as the speed limit finally reaches seventy. And he lets out a little cheer, and you grin over at him, and he asks, “How fast can it go?” You smirk, “Wanna find out?” He nods excitedly, and you check behind you to see an empty street. You look at him with a smirk before slamming down on the gas and taking off. You watch as you fly up to eighty, quickly hitting ninety. You grin as you push a hundred, “It can go faster if you’re up for it?” As you take a glimpse at him, you see his sparkling eyes, “Hell yeah!” Your grip on the wheel gets tighter as you watch the road more intensely, and just as you hit 110, you see headlights coming towards you. You ease up on the gas as you pout, “We could have hit a hundred and thirty…” Your speed quickly drops, and he says, “Well if it’s any consultation-” You look over at him as your gauge drops back down to a safe seventy, “Hmm?” He grins, putting his hand over your other hand that’s now resting on the shifter, and links his fingers through yours, “That was the coolest experience I’ve had in months!” You giggle at him, “I’m glad you enjoyed it~” He smiles as he tells you, “And we’re about an intersection from the ice cream place.” You grin, “That’s even better news!” You slow down further as you get through the intersection. You notice his hand still over yours and squeeze his fingers as you shift down. He tells you to turn left as you shift into second. With one hand, you spin the wheel left and pull into the ice cream stand. You pull in, put into park, and look at his hand. He gasps as he quickly removes it from yours, and you resist your pout until he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was-” You shake your head, “I liked it.”

You get out of the car and offer him your hand, and he smiles as he links his hand in yours. You order your ice creams and pay for them before heading to the pickup line. You both talk quietly as you wait in front of the window. The person behind the window asks, “One cone and one sundae?” You both nod and take yours and some napkins before walking away, “Where do you want to sit?” He looks at the tree close to the car, “Underneath the tree?” You smile, “Sounds good to me.” You sit side by side underneath the tree while the sun slowly starts setting in the sky, and you ask, “So, what do you like to do for fun?” He smiles, “Watch movies and play video games.” You nod as you eat another bite of ice cream, and he asks, “What about you?” You smile as you tell him before asking, “Got any pets?” His eyes twinkle as he tells you about Bori and shows you photos of her. You grin, “She’s so cute!” He smiles, “The cutest.”

You two continue talking until you finish your ice cream. You get up together and throw away your trash. “Since you’ve never worked on one or rode in one before. Have you driven one?” He shakes his head no, and you ask, “Do you want to?” He blinks, “Seriously?” You hum before you ask, “You’ve driven a manual before, right?” He nods, and you smile as you hold your keys out to him, “I trust you.” He takes them in his hands, “You sure?” You agree as you head to the passenger side, “It’s not often I get to sit over here.” He looks at you over the roof, “Well, today’s your lucky day then.” You grimace before you say, “Overall, yeah.” He laughs, “Maybe not entirely. But how about right now?” You smirk, “It's better cause you're here.” He laughs as he sits down and shakes his head at you. He has to push the seat back again as you adjust your seat to have a straighter back. You both shut your doors and put on your seatbelts before he looks over at you and turns it over, giving it a little gas before it roars to life.

He lets up on the handbrake and engages the clutch, letting it slide into first. You watch him as he sticks his tongue out while he pulls out of the parking spot to concentrate. You giggle as you look at him, and he looks over at you and winks. You shake your head, and he pulls onto the road and shifts into second, quickly changing into third, then fourth as he gets it up to seventy. When he’s comfortable driving, no longer concentrating, you bump his hand that’s resting above the shifter. He grins over at you and takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers.

You look at your joined hands and wonder how today went from rotten to wonderful. But as you trail your eyes up to his, “It was because of you.” He gives you an odd look, “Huh?” And you smile, “You made my day go from rotten to wonderful.” He squeezes your fingers, “My day was boring before you showed up.” You laugh, “Is that because I gave you something to do?” He shakes his head, “No. It’s not often someone as pretty as you walks into my shop.” You pout, “How often is not often?” He smiles, “Well, considering I’ve only seen you once? Once.” You roll your eyes, “Smooth,” but grin as you watch the streetlights fly past you.

You let his hand go so he can shift down when you see the shop in the distance. And before your hand can completely part from his, his pinky catches yours. You giggle as he shifts with your hand still partially in his. He slows down and parks in front of the garage you were in before. When you have to get out of the car, it’s his turn to pout as he shuts off your car. “What?” You ask as you shut the door behind you, “I still want to hold your hand.” You laugh as you hold your hand out for him to take again, “Okay.” He takes your hand in his and leads you to the shop door. He unlocks it and turns the light on before walking to his desk and sitting on his shop chair.

He asks you to sit down in yours, and you do, before you ask, “So, how much do I owe you?” He looks back at you, “I don’t feel like it’s right to charge you after we just went on a date…” You roll your eyes, “Before that, I was just a regular customer.” He shakes his head, “Regular customers are old gearheads…” You laugh, “So does that make me special, or do you invite them to eat dinner with you too?” His face twists up in disgust as you cackle, “Ew…” You ask again, “Anyways, what’s the total?” He sighs, “$80…” You roll your eyes, “The real total…” He shakes his head, “I only charge $27 an hour.” “Really? Even for the parts?” He shakes his head, “I can’t charge you for them when I helped you.” You give him a confused look, “But you only helped me with one…” He shrugs, “And?” You blink at him, “Why?” He grins, “Because you’re cute.” You shake your head at him, “I don’t know how you stay in business.” He smirks, “Probably because you never came in before.” You blush, and with your free hand, you fish out your card and shove it into the card reader. “What if I want to charge you something?” He blinks at you, “What do you mean?” You grin as you ask, “A date with me on Friday?” He gives you a small smile, “I would go on a date with you for free…” You shrug, “Okay, so free of charge, what do you say to date with me on Friday?” He grins, “I’d love to.”

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materialsscienceandengineering · 1 year ago

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Work

In thermodynamics, work is defined as a transfer of energy - either by a system to the surroundings or vice versa. There are different forms of work, and different mathematical equations, depending on the energy in question. Pressure-volume work, where the volume and pressure of a system changes, is one of the most commonly taught forms. (The pressure-volume relationship example is typically an ideal gas in a frictionless piston, simplifying things considerably.) However, it is important to note that while work is energy, it is specifically energy in transit, though the units remain the same (J, or Joules, in SI units). In equations, work is typically represented by a capital W.

Sources/Further Reading: (Image source - NASA) (Goethe University Frankfurt) (Thermal Engineering) (LibreTexts) (Wikipedia)

#Materials Science #Science #Thermodynamics #ThermodynamicThursday #2024Daily

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copythatblogs · 5 months ago

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when people talk about the new rules for 2026 i hear them say it’s gonna be an “engine formula” a lot. what does this mean?

FORMULA EXPLAINED - Part One Engine Formula

When referencing the FIA's new set of rules & regulations for the 2026 season, you may hear people talking about something called "engine formula".

Engine Formula is all the parts that are put together to make the engine work like components and batteries.

The 2026 engine is to be a 50/50 split between internal combustion engine and electrical power, dropping the MGU-H (which i'll cover soon) and massively upping the MGU-K (which will also be covered soon) to a power output of 350kW or around 469bnp.

The current hybrid (engine) set-up includes the energy store, the V6 engine, the turbocharger, and two other components.

Said components are the MGU-H and the MGU-K. Let's start by focusing on:

What they are

What their purpose is

MGU-H Motor Generation Unit - Heat The MGU-H is a compound of the hybrid-electric internal combustion engine. (this is literally just the name of the engine) Its job is to convert heat energy from exhaust gas into electrical energy. - Acts as an anti-lag system for the turbocharger.

MGU-K Motor Generation Unit - Kinetic The MGU-K is a kinetic energy recovery system connected to the crankshaft with the main task of converting kinetic energy into electrical energy. Much like the MGU-H but different. - Kinetic energy is the energy an object has because of its motion. - The crankshaft is another engine component. It is a piston that converts the linear motion generated by the engine into rotational motion. (in simpler words, it converts the vertical movement of the pistons into horizontal rotational movement which drives the wheels via the gearbox.)

For 2026 they plan on completely dropping the MGU-H system and upping the MGU-K system to have a significantly larger power output (as stated above). Removing the MGU-H is the most significant change being made to the engine as they are literally removing a whole component.

They are making this drastic change as they deemed it "too complex, with too little road relevance for manufacturers." - essentially, a bit too difficult for manufacturers (the people that make it) to understand completely how to make it, as they are more used to working on engines build for the roads. Hence "road relevance".

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

That's a wrap for part one of "FORMULA EXPLAINED" by copythat!

Thanks for your read! If you're new here, have a quick read at my intro post for this series.

*all feedback and constructive criticism is welcome!*

also, if you'd like to - follow my Instagram! @/copythatblogs

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tacetnix · 5 days ago

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"Don't Deal with a Dragon" shadowrun ozzy???? shadowrun ozzy????? i dont know shit about shadowrun but may i get a shadowrun ozzy??

Send me "Don't Deal with a Dragon" and I'll assign your character a Shadowrun character concept" | ACCEPTING

---- In the depths of Europe, a tiny village is barely a dot on a map. They have connection to the Matrix, but they're the kind of remote that GridGuide never even considered them as a possible place to implement self-driving cars. After all, the vehicle population was on average older than the company itself. These were a people that didn't need to be sold cars.

But what they were sold was a religion. They were sold mechanical workers to help till their fields and clear the snow and hang up the lights for their blackbird rites and rituals.

This was a place that used the Matrix as one did the old 'net. Watching videos, for trideo development was unnecessary. Why have holograms when a handyman or codejockey could turn the scrap of old satellite tech into uplinks, route 'em to old televisions that would make even the most tech-illiterate sprawler gag.

In a village such as this... who would expect the pastor of the church to be one of the most technologically-advanced of his people? To have made pilgrimage to the cities of Europe, taken of their strengths, while maintaining the humility of his position? A man with a flock of crows, who learned to adapt to the changing times, rather than stay stuck in tradition and rite. A flock of chrome bones and cameras for eyes, with minds of code made to evoke the personalities and livelihood of the corvid they impersonate.

---- The man was a Rigger, whose spine and nerves had been invaded by technology, who could connect to compatible vehicles and drones and become them. The twitch of a finger flexes pistons, a tensed shoulder turns the steering axle, a clenching of the diaphragm introduces gas into the engine and the car goes. Eyes become windows into the soul of the machine, cameras on the dashboard giving the rigger an out-of-body experience... and far more granular control than was otherwise humanly possible. Each and every one of his bird-drones, made to look like the real things, could be inhabited, the only indication that anything was any different was that the bird would go still. It would 'forget to act', and it would pay more attention. Blink... and you'd miss it. The less said about any magician who claims "Raven" as their mentor spirit in his presence, the better.

Any of Father Oswald's birds could be possessed so, lending an air of credibility to tales of children and sinners being watched by the godly. When money grew tight, the preacher would leave sermons for... who? Altar boys? The devout? Someone would have to tend to the village whilst he travels to the cities, he would indulge in their lights and their vices, and be paid to smuggle, kill, and steal.

His body is marred by cyberware; smuggler's compartments form pockets that were taut in his youth, and remain strengthened by their implantation despite the rigors of age around them. Small pouches in the flesh, large enough and water-tight to carry things over borders and through rent-a-cop inspections. Obvious chrome keeps others from searching the old flesh, and law enforcement are all the more fools for it.

---- Accompanied by crows, the runner known as "Flock" keeps abreast of developments in the nearby cities. Old friends, from before he went into retirement ("this time for certain" he would say, lasting anywhere from months to years before he took another run) do not reach out first. They always wait, and they always think of him when opportunities flitter over their commlinks, trickling down through the shadownet and across their desks. How many crews has he run with, missions and schemes concocted over weeks or months, executed to perfection before he left for his little village again, several thousand nuyen the richer, and expecting never to see comrades and coworkers again?

How many times did he leave with one of their number left in a shallow grave?

No, Flock was an enigma, and in his career he's forgotten more than most runners ever get to learn. He was alive when the first Orks and Elves were born, when the dragons emerged and the Sixth World was made manifest. His has been a life of adapting to an ever-changing landscape, more aware than any of you how fluid the Megas' hold on the world truly are, no matter how monolithic and untouchable they present themselves. He is a sailor, and he is guided by only one north star.

PRIORITY TABLE: AACEE [ Skills / Attributes / Resources / Magic & Resonance / Metatype ]

A - SKILLS (46 points for individual Skills, 10 points for Skill Groups)]

A - ATTRIBUTES (24) [ Spread between BODY / AGILITY / REACTION / STRENGTH / WILLPOWER / LOGIC / INTUITION / CHARISMA, usually starting at 1/6, but different Metatypes have different starts and limits ]

C - RESOURCES (140,000¥) [ Spend this before starting the game to determine what your character owns; you cannot keep more than ~1,200¥ after your spending spree. This accounts for buying your lifestyle, clothes, armor, weapons, vehicles/drones, etc. ]

E - METATYPE ("choose one"; just kidding, Priority E Metatype locks you to being human.) >> Human (1) [ Add the number after your metatype to your EDGE attribute. EDGE is your 'Luck' stat.

E - MAGIC or RESONANCE (NONE, you're MUNDANE, old man!)

#confessthysiins #Shadowrunner Assignment #A Message From the Investors! | Ask #[ This was a fun one to theorycraft ]#[ god these are long ]

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dangerprone2000 · 9 months ago

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Hi guys! I know it’s been a while 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 but I’m finally on vacations and i promise I’ll be more active all of these days! Here’s the first draft of chapter one !!! Hope you guys enjoy it! More Fraphne content coming soon 💗💗💗

Chapter 1.

She snuggled into the warmth of her sheets, trying to fall asleep.

The smell of jasmine in the air helped her relax after a particularly hard day.

She had been hiding in her room for four days from that woman, from the disfigured ghost that now haunted her every time she closed her eyes, in her dreams, her knight in shining armor always rescued her from her bloody prison, and the toothless smile of her tormentor. Daphne had never seen such a brutal scene before, a body rotting in her internal juices, decaying little by little as the bugs ate her flesh.

It was comforting to know that even if she opened her eyes, her knight would still be there, not exactly there, and not exactly hers, but Fred Jones had always made sure to get her home safely.

She thought about all the times she had seen a lifeless body, which were, sadly, more than she would like to admit. She had a big family back in Scottland, and she assisted to a couple funerals to an open casket. She remembered the crushed, strangely deformed face of one of her uncles, his body, an empty shell, and she realized she was afraid of death.

The patter of the rain drowned out the sound of her cell phone in a drawer of her nightstand, where it had been since Daphne decided that putting it away would help her think more clearly.

The sound of her window sliding away brought her back to reality, and she jumped, grabbing whatever she had on hand to defend herself against it. Out of a nightmare, the corpse had finally come for her.

She scanned the room in search of the intruder, but a solid massive silhouette was tangled in the curtain, unfolding across the wide frame immersed in darkness.

“Fred?”

He smiled, throwing his wet coat over her desk.

“You are going to be the death of me” she said, wiping the palm of her hands in her night gown.

“The butler said you were very sick” “Pretty much something contagious” He chuckled, taking a seat next to her. “And your phone, oh, it works! It didn't seem so when I called you the first thirty-three times.”

“Haha. Very funny.”

Fred finally straightened up, taking a slightly more serious posture.

“You have called it sick for three days. We were worried about you.”

We were. We, not I. She decided to ignore the sting piercing her gut and hold on to the full sentence, feeding her hope that after all, it meant he cared too, at least a little bit.

“You don't look sick.” He insisted.

She wondered how she could joke after what had happened, what they had both done.

“It's after two.”

“Yeah, that's why I didn't use the front door.”

Fred's body sprawled on the mattress with naturally, his blonde hair blown by the wind, extending on her pillow like liquid gold strands.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, crawling under her covers. Perhaps, he also wanted to feel a little less alone, after all, Daphne and Fred were inseparable, like the spark and gas that pushed the pistons to start an engine.

Like the spark she felt at the tips of her fingers every time they touched.

“So,” she said, avoiding his eyes, “are we going to address the elephant in the room?”

His face hardened, trying to avoid the thorny topic. “We only did what we had to do to escape unscathed from a crime we did not commit.”

Daphne nodded. Maybe if they kept repeating that to themselves, they would start to believe so.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Earlier that morning,

Fred woke up in his room, disoriented and sweaty.

His dad stood in front of him, sipping coffee from his favorite black mug.

Fred could tell he was mad at the way he looked at him. Maybe he already knew, maybe they were in trouble. Maybe not.

He sat down, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

It was often better to stay quiet and wait, after all, it wouldn't be the first time his father got mad at him for something that wasn't exactly related to him.

“You have slept the whole afternoon” He said, turning his back” I’ll wait for you Downstairs to get dinner like decent people do” and then, left him alone in the room.

He couldn't stop having nightmares about Daphne. Thinking about her all night, her eyes all white and cloudy, threads of blood adorning her angelic face.

And the way that nightmare started was particularly disturbing, with her elegant limbs dancing and twirling around her rooms as she undressed.

And why would he ever be fantasizing about that?

Daphne's beauty was obvious to everyone, but Fred preferred to reserve those kinds of thoughts for the girls in his adult magazines, and not directly towards his best friend. It felt immoral, somehow wrong.

Once again Fred’s head was divided: his thoughts were fast, but he couldn't feel more than one thing at once, otherwise he would implode. So, he better keep it cool.

First thing first, he got to deal with his father. He would have time to think about his weird dreams and their meanings later.

Or never.

Probably never.

Fred got up, taking a glance at his messy room: his bed was damp, a lot of blankets and pillows were scattered on the floor, where two of his crashed scale models, a pillow had landed on them during the night, thanks to the movements of his restless sleep.

It was kind of annoying to think about it, because he really liked those two, and he spent weeks, months, working on them, the smaller they were, the more effort it took for them to be accurate.

He lifted a few broken pieces, realizing they were almost shattered.

Fred would have to start at the beginning, the mechanisms were broken and repairing them wasn't an option, it would be a complete waste of time. He took them and put them in the trash can.

He took a seat on the table, right in front of his father.

“I don't want you fooling around with your friends this week, Fred.”

“Any particular reason or just the regular one?” he stroked.

“We found a body decomposing in the swamp near Gatorsburg this morning.”

His heart stopped for a moment. Fred's body froze in place, as if he was glued to the chair, he kept his arms under the table, trying to hide the trembling of his hands.

They weren't supposed to find it yet. Not enough time had passed to erase the evidence, the traces. He hoped that the bacteria in the water and animal activity had left too little to analyze. Not that he didn't want to discover who murdered that girl, but rather a desperate attempt to erase their own traces left back in the crime scene.

He couldn't just call the police and hope for the best when he couldn't justify how he knew where to find the body. In no way did they come out well, having illegally listened to the police on the radio, and having contaminated the entire scene. Not only would they look guilty, but it would also ruin the entire re-election campaign if it became known in the press.

Four days passed until they heard about it: A couple of freaks from LA went to Crystal cove on their honeymoon, probably in search of low-budget paranormal experiences.

Crystal Cove was always full of people Looking forward experiencing all kinds of phenomena. He wasn't exactly a believer, but still, he had seen enough weird things to give it a shot.

“This couple's car ran out of gas a couple miles far from the forest” His father explained “There was nobody around to help, so they walked looking for a gas station, until they found the body floating on the shore.”

Fred stared at his father's face blankly, trying to keep a steady breath. He pictured his face behind the bars of a real prison. And Daphne, what about her? She wouldn't survive in jail a single day. Why then had he pressured her to hide the body? Easy. He had experienced police operations way too closely to know that the first to find the body was going to be the main suspect.

And speaking about Daphne, she had been called out sick all four days, missing exams, a theater rehearsal, and refusing to leave her house no matter how many logical reasons he gave her.

She didn't even let anyone in.

The mayor snapped his finger at him, like he was able to smell his panic, the burning worry on Fred's face.

“What's wrong child? Nothing to say? I'm going to start thinking you are finally maturing”

The table went silent for a couple of minutes. “You haven't acted this weird since you reached puberty.”

Fred shook his head.

If the killer did exist on the same existential plane as him, he or she was smart enough to make it look like Amanda's just stepped on the wrong place, at the wrong time… Or maybe it was the witches.

Maybe Amanda had messed with them.

Maybe no one was safe on Crystal Cove.

Fred Jones Sir must have noticed how pale his son face was, or the way he uncomfortably shifted on his seat right after their little talk.

That was when Fred Jones started shaking, so badly he had to drop the cutlery.

“I’m a little bit tired, so if you excuse me…”

The man on the suit do not hesitate after dismissing his son.

- Thank you very much for taking the time to read it and give me your recommendations, XOXO.

#fred jones #daphne blake #fred x daphne #scooby doo #mystery inc #mystery incorporated #fraphne #scooby movies #scooby gang #fred scooby doo #daphne scooby doo #daphne x fred #shaggy scooby doo #velma scooby doo #scooby dooby doo #scooby doo memes #scooby doo fandom #scooby doo fanfiction #scooby doo series

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othernaut · 1 month ago

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Character Creation Challenge 2025, Day 3: A Song of Ice and Fire Role-Playing Game

In the Low Tower at Skystone, there is a fire ever-burning. The fumes climb up from the slit windows and paint the sky silvery-grey. A light flickers in the evening sky to mirror the hills' scattered smelters and oil-houses. Next year, some new refinement to claw back a portion of the day into the waiting hands of the workmen.

Along the Wind Road run couriers in the shadow of the mountain. They are given a strip of black braided leather to wear at their throat, to warn off the more reasonable raider clans; false packages to appease the others. No women; the raiders will rob a man but take a woman, and it is critical the packages reach their destination. Good pay in the employ of the Opal Lord's unmarried daughter. Safer than most courier work in the Mountains of the Moon.

Some jostle on the gravel of the Wind Road, or bring the wrong horses and stumble on changing terrain. Some burn in an unquenchable fire sprang from a secret satchel, diamond-bright heat sticking to the skin and consuming even the sand under the body. No scavengers will touch the things after; the brass of their buttons and buckles melts into the stone. She comes out for these, accompanied by a few seasoned killers of the Black Band. Prods the char with arcane instruments, makes notes in her little book. Heaps the gravel over the mess and is gone. Takes nothing.

They see her at holidays, at tourneys, at wargames. The family Syelle, they go grey early: pale blue eyes and hair painted streaks of red and ash-white. Precise hands, surgeon's hands, with pits and gouges in the nail beds. She eats, she says pleasant things; she stays removed. She plays what games are put before her.

Point Pride is a wealthy mountain and Skystone a wealthy estate; this is a known thing, and it brings the usual grifters and mummers, the fortune-tellers and wizards from far-distant lands. The Opal Lord's unmarried daughter gives these creatures more of an ear than would be decorous. Some are sent away with nothing, some with little less than they asked for. Some speckle those cold blue eyes with fascination and are invited inside for tea and conversation.

Sometimes they are even seen to leave.

In the Low Tower at Skystone, there is a fire ever-burning. The gas that lights the lanterns is odorless and is piped to their nozzles in delicate tubes strung in curlicues along the walls. New advancements in the mines spur pistons into new seams with thunderclap force. The smallfolk in their pits and taverns have learned to speak of the Opal Lord's unmarried daughter with kindness, should they speak of her at all.

Enough gravel and char for everyone in the shadow of the mountain.

*****

Lady Erin Syelle Adult Expert The barren first daughter of Lord Bale Syelle dedicated herself from a young age to her education, learning engineering and alchemy to make best possible use of her family's fortifications and natural resources. Destiny Points: 3 Benefits: Lucky Drawbacks: Fear (Confinement) Awareness 3 (+1B Notice), Cunning 3 (+1B Decipher, Logic), Education 5 (+1B Research), Healing 3, Language 2 (Valyrian), Marksmanship 3, Persuasion 3, Status 4, Warfare 3 (+1B Tactics), Will 3 (+1B Coordinate, Dedication), All Others 2 Background Events: Held hostage by another house as a ward or prisoner (bad betrothal - promised to House Royce upon her moonblood, which never arrived); Achieved a significant deed (alchemical, if not petrochemical in nature - can make fire wax and refined rock oil, keeps the secret real close); Traveled across the narrow sea (Educational trade - her ciphered secret for deeper mysteries unknown in the West). Possessions: 10 gold (Stiletto, mace, light crossbow, hard leather armor, travel kit (tent included), maester's kit, myrish lens and far-eyes, traveling clothes, noble's clothes, rounsey (Clever), sweetsleep (3 pinches), salt and spices for barter)

Intrigue Defense: 10 Composure: 9 Combat Defense: 7 Health: 6 Armor Rating: 3 Damage: Stiletto 2, Mace 2, Light Crossbow 3

Goal: Knowledge - Erin has had more contact with true and magical power than most, and craves it. Motivation: Fear - Her position is precarious, and knowledge has ever been her shield. Virtue: Humble - Her station matters only in the doors it opens; knowledge is in all places, great and small. Vice: Cruel - Capable of deploying the most heinously inventive revenges.

*****

House Syelle Realm: The Mountains of the Moon Motto: "Quality Endures" Coat of Arms: Sable and argent, embattled per fess, charge of a winged eye displayed. Defense: 41 (Excellent defenses, man-made but utilizing the mountain's natural features.) Influence: 43 (A powerful minor house with a colorful history; Maximum Lord's Status 5.) Lands: 31 (A large-ish area of land, holding multiple terrains.) Law: 26 (Typical level of law, crime common but under control.) Population: 21 (Typical population, with steppe farms and nomadic homesteads, larger communities near the fortress.) Power: 29 (A modest force of soldiers, including some trained career troops.) Wealth: 51 (Rich, wanting for nothing.) Holdings: Castle (Skystone Castle, defending the mines); Three heirs (Erin, first-born daughter; Vincen, second-born son, with wife Hanna of Red Lake; Carina, third-born daughter); Mountain (with hamlet), Hills (with road); Elite Guerrillas (The Black Lord's Band, elite mountain troops derived from the clans), Trained Infantry, Trained Archers x2, Trained Support (combat engineers!), Trained Peasant Levies (miner brigade!); Mine, Maester, Artisan (all weapons forged in-house are castle-forged), Sept.

First Founding: Established, founded during Aegon's conquest. Declared around Point Pride, one of the largest mountains in the Vale, as a Valyrian-led watch-house for the Vale's child lord - and, later, to exploit the gemstone mines found in its belly. Produces opal, chalcedony, onyx, quarried stone, lead, tin, and staggering amounts of rock oil; agricultural resources tomatoes, potatoes, tea, wool, cheese, clear spirits, but mineral resources far outstrip these in export value. Historical events:

11, Infrastructure. The house was established during a period of expansion and prosperity.

15, Villain. The rightful lord utilized his newly-established power to rule over the local bandits and wild men from the shadows, rather than crush them as was his mandate. Decades of tacitly permitted banditry resulted.

13, Favor. Motivated by the headsman's axe, the lord turned his bandit army over to the direct control of the king, both winning favor and fulfilling his familial oath in one go.

8, Scandal. A string of assassinations rocked the house's leadership, ending with a feeble lord on the throne, though the true power - and, many say, the orchestrator of the murders - was his lowborn lady.

6, Madness. Later in life, the rumored-murderous lady perished after a short illness, leaving the now extremely elderly and thoroughly insane lord to rule the mountain in truth for a distressingly long span.

12, Ascent. Through strong trade ties with the Maesters of Oldtown, a later lord and his elder bastard brother were given a startlingly comprehensive education, leading to a strong trend of capable administration and scientific advancement in the house.

*****

I really, really enjoyed this one.

I bought SIFRP, like most of my role-playing books, secondhand. I bought it not long before the show puked on itself and fell over. I had just enough time to flip through the book and wonder at the fascinating house creation rules, all the little bits and pieces built in to add flavor and a place in the world, right before no one wanted to play it with me anymore.

Everything I've built for this challenge, prior to this one, felt like an exercise - something I had to do more than something I wanted to do. Something I was going through as a process of discovery. This was something I wanted to play with for a long while and had never gotten the chance. The house creation rules looked bitey and detailed - I love whenever an RPG gives players a shared resource, something like a ship or a big manor, that they have to build themselves, invest themselves into. In a setting like A Song of Ice and Fire, I knew this had to be the big selling point, bigger than the individual characters, and from what little I'd engaged with the book before the show stopped being culturally relevant, the whole endeavor in the RPG looked just as comprehensive as I hoped it'd be.

It was fascinating going into this after ruefully building a character in Burning Wheel. The amount of bookkeeping inherent in building a house and a character in SIFRPG was a little bit greater than in Burning Wheel, but I found myself going back to the numbers well by choice, over and over, to add more details and discover the next stage of my weird little mountain billionaires' story. That's actually a good word for it, discovery - fortunes shifted about as much, if not more, in SIFRPG's house/character creation as it did in Burning Wheel, but in all aspects I felt like I was uncovering something about the character, rather than trying to wrestle it into place.

And, really, the house and the character feed into one another. The sense of place given by the shared history and location absolutely informs what pops out at the end, and the order in which the book guides you to take it, with that shared house and history first, is absolutely the right way to go. The end result is a tangible sense of place and persona, a character who both knits into and has the potential to meaningfully change their environment - something that feels capable of standing in the world it came from, with all its established characters and history, which is also markedly unusual when creating a character in a world with such an impactful IP.

Next up: Capitalism, by way of industrial metal.

#character creation challenge #new year new character #sifrpg #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #no really this is the first one i've made for this challenge that i'm pissed i don't get to immediately play #oh hey what would make this world worse ONE-WOMAN OIL INDUSTRY WOOO #and this character has all of the hallmarks of any one of my early self-insert RPG characters except #y'now #being in ASOIAF apparently just makes you... like that

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