#Metal Recycling Solutions

[re-sourcerecycling]

Metal Recycling Solutions!

Re-Source Recycling offers a wide variety of metal recycling solutions to the industry. Our services include general scrap collection to medium and large-scale machinery and equipment removal. There is no machine too big for the task. We offer total scrap removal services. At Re-Source Recycling, we recycle all types of metals like Steel, Aluminum, Copper, Brass, zinc and many more. Know More: https://re-sourcerecycling.com/metal-recycling/

[iamthepulta]

Making my own post because now capitalism is just revolving in my brain and I want to respond, but I've intruded more than enough. ^^"

I do think capitalism can be solved, and history actually gives me hope because it shows the fundamental need of society. Humans aren't inherently greedy or cruel. The greed and the cruelty are symptoms of a long-standing human need to make things better than they were before: to live comfortably, and without fear.

Capitalism is merely the current expression of this need that we live in.

Solving the need is absolutely possible by establishing a baseline standard of living and resource allotment. And that's comparable to an amount of 'work' that we deem acceptable in our daily lives. Because if you think about it, making coffee every morning with a Keurig gets you a similar product to making coffee every morning with a hand grinder and cold press: one just takes more resources and time than the other.

However, this needs to be flexible because humans are individuals with different needs, and the premise is also questionable because who's setting this baseline anyway?

I personally think it has more to do with government setting a cap on resource imports. (I think it should be stronger than tariffs, personally. Just a hard cap for the year.)

You can't really control demand. That's what most socialists do, and it always fails because humans fundamentally want to make their lives easier. But you can control resource management. If the government says we can only import 20 tons of cotton this year, and we produce 80 tons of cotton, so companies get 100 tons of cotton to do whatever with, and that's it. If we want more cotton, we have to axe some other import.

It 1) makes management visual. 2) gives citizens a personal reason to be invested in their government. 3) will not allocate resources fairly, but will show the true value of a product for the region it's in and prioritize local resources [i.e. if your country does not produce garnets, garnets will be more expensive than gold]. 4) increases jobs since there's far less incentive to outsource work, overall decreasing inequality. 5) encourages a circular economy.

In which case, I suppose I'm for some form of socialist autarky and I think that would solve a decent number of capitalist problems. Companies could no longer overrun workers and there's individual choice behind jobs, work, and some form of style of living.

It IS bad in like- fifty million other ways though. You can't just go from a country used to living in a capitalist society to imposing tariffs and screaming about autarky. Natural resources WILL be destroyed on your own soil and the biggest nation will have the highest quality of living. Imports have to be on a factor of population growth and this might only be possible with nations for a declining population rate. If at all. You also have to add a judicial angle for the people who will inevitably try to take over that system. And, most of all, you have to commit to not going to fucking war over state expansion for resources. Looking at you, Russia.

So I suppose we COULD solve capitalism, at the expense of a whole lot of other problems that are equally meh-to-bad.

Governments are fundamentally resource management machines though, and it's really stupid to pretend they aren't. With resource management, comes capping the fuck out of companies (specialists) that abuse the system (monopolies/oligarchies). When a government doesn't do that (whatever the method), it's failed its purpose as a government and also needs to be put down (revolution).

[elite-clearance]

Professionals you can trust

[scanaconus]

Advanced Metal Recycling Systems by Scanacon

Scanacon’s metal recycling systems are engineered to recover valuable metals from industrial process streams with maximum efficiency. Designed for industries like steel, mining, and metal finishing, our solutions help reduce waste, lower operating costs, and promote sustainable production. With cutting-edge technology and real-time monitoring, Scanacon ensures cleaner operations and improved resource management.

[greenarabia]

Waste recycling for business in Dubai: how Green Arabia helps companies reduce expenses and protect nature

Modern businesses cannot ignore the topic of sustainable development. Companies often face questions about how to reduce their impact on the surrounding environment, save on waste logistics, and maintain efficiency. A solution exists—Green Arabia's services for recycling waste for businesses.

Company Green Arabia, entering the group M.A.H.Y. Khoory, offers individual solutions for offices, warehouses, shopping centers, hotels, and other commercial objects. Its main goal is to turn waste into a resource, reduce the load on the surrounding environment, and help businesses comply with the ecological standards of the UAE.

What includes service?

Audit of waste

Specialists of Green Arabia analyze the structure of your company's waste to determine what can be recycled and what can be reduced at the stage of formation.

Separate collection

Installing convenient containers with clear markings helps employees easily sort paper, plastic, metal, and organic materials.

Regular removal and logistics

The team organizes the removal of recyclable materials by schedule, not interfering with the work process.

Ecological reporting

A report about the volumes of collected and recycled waste is formed upon request—an important tool for internal KPI and external reporting to partners.

Why choose Green Arabia?

Approach adapted to the specifics of your business.

Work with the leading companies on recycling in the region

Support of sustainable image of brand

Real reduction of expenses on waste removal

Green Arabia Website: https://greenarabiame.com/ Phone: +97143393533 Address: Al Quoz Industrial Area No. 3 Dubai, UAE Open hours: 24/7

[gravitainr]

Scrap Aluminium Price | Gravita India

Scrap Aluminium Price | Gravita India Driving Sustainable Value Through Innovation and Recycling

Introduction

In a world where sustainability has become a priority, Gravita India emerges as a global leader in the recycling industry, particularly in aluminium recycling. By transforming scrap aluminium into high-quality products, Gravita India not only contributes to environmental conservation but also drives economic value for industries worldwide. Amid fluctuating commodity markets, the price of scrap aluminium plays a pivotal role in influencing manufacturing, recycling operations, and overall sustainability strategies.

The Growing Importance of Scrap Aluminium

Aluminium, often dubbed the “metal of the future,” is one of the most sustainable and versatile materials available. Its lightweight, corrosion-resistant properties make it the backbone of industries such as automotive, aerospace, electronics, and construction. Importantly, aluminium is infinitely recyclable without compromising quality, consuming only 5% of the energy required to produce virgin aluminium.

The increasing demand for aluminium products, coupled with growing awareness of circular economy principles, has led to an unprecedented need for reliable recycling operations. Scrap aluminium prices, therefore, reflect global supply-demand dynamics, energy costs, and sustainability practices, making them a crucial benchmark for industries dependent on recycled aluminium.

Gravita India: Pioneering Scrap Aluminium Recycling

Gravita India has been at the forefront of the aluminium recycling revolution, offering premium aluminium alloy ingots tailored to meet global industry standards. With an extensive presence across India, Africa, and Europe, Gravita combines cutting-edge technology, sustainable processes, and global expertise to transform scrap aluminium into valuable resources.

The company specializes in manufacturing top-tier aluminium alloys like:

ADC12

LM2, LM6, LM24

Custom grades suited to various casting and engineering methods

Gravita’s focus on eco-friendly production methods enables efficient processing of aluminium scrap while minimizing environmental impact. Their state-of-the-art recycling plants are fully compliant with ISO 9001 and ISO 14000 standards, ensuring quality, sustainability, and safety at every stage.

Scrap Aluminium Price: Key Market Drivers

The price of scrap aluminium is influenced by several macroeconomic and industrial factors:

Global Demand and Supply: Industries such as automotive, packaging, and electronics drive high demand for recycled aluminium. A surge in demand often leads to a rise in scrap prices.

Energy Costs: Since aluminium recycling consumes significantly less energy than virgin production, energy price volatility directly affects scrap aluminium pricing.

Raw Material Availability: Collection, sorting, and transportation of scrap aluminium play a major role in its pricing. Gravita India’s robust raw material procurement network ensures consistent supply and mitigates price fluctuations.

Regulations and Sustainability Policies: Government mandates on Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) and sustainable practices further emphasize the role of scrap aluminium as a preferred raw material.

Economic Conditions: Fluctuations in global economies, trade policies, and geopolitical events have a cascading effect on commodity markets, including aluminium scrap pricing.

Gravita India, with its expertise, effectively navigates these factors to offer cost-efficient and sustainable aluminium solutions to its global clientele.

Why Scrap Aluminium Recycling Matters

Economic Value: Recycling aluminium significantly reduces production costs while maintaining its structural properties, providing cost benefits to industries.

Environmental Benefits: Recycling reduces carbon emissions, conserves natural resources, and minimizes landfill waste.

Energy Efficiency: Aluminium recycling requires 95% less energy compared to mining and refining virgin aluminium.

Circular Economy: By fostering a circular economy, organisations like Gravita India ensure that resources remain in use for extended periods, promoting long-term sustainability.

Gravita India: Setting Benchmarks in Aluminium Sustainability

Gravita India has positioned itself as a trusted partner for businesses seeking quality and reliability in scrap aluminium recycling. Key features that set Gravita apart include:

Global Presence: Operations in 50+ countries, ensuring supply chain efficiency.

Customised Solutions: Tailored alloy compositions to meet client specifications.

Eco-Friendly Practices: Adherence to global environmental standards and minimal waste generation.

Technological Excellence: Advanced recycling facilities equipped with the latest technology for optimal efficiency.

By leveraging decades of experience and innovation, Gravita India drives sustainability while addressing the growing demand for cost-effective and eco-conscious aluminium solutions.

Conclusion

Scrap aluminium prices will continue to remain a vital component in the global recycling landscape as industries shift towards greener alternatives. Gravita India’s pioneering efforts in aluminium recycling set new benchmarks for sustainability, innovation, and economic value. Through efficient scrap procurement, advanced technology, and a commitment to circular economy principles, Gravita India not only delivers high-quality aluminium alloys but also supports a cleaner, more sustainable future.

As industries worldwide look for partners who prioritize sustainability and performance, Gravita India stands tall as the leader in scrap aluminium recycling, offering unparalleled expertise and reliability.

For more information on Gravita India’s recycling solutions and current scrap aluminium trends, visit www.gravitaindia.com.

[mwrecycles]

Waste Management Service Singapore - Eco-Friendly Waste Disposal Solutions

As environmental concerns become more pressing, businesses and individuals are increasingly seeking sustainable waste disposal options. A well-organized waste management system plays a vital role in reducing pollution, conserving resources, and promoting eco-friendly practices. In Singapore, effective waste management solutions not only contribute to environmental sustainability but also align with the nation’s goal to create a cleaner and greener future.

The Importance of Waste Management Services

Efficient Waste management service Singapore ensures that waste materials are handled in a way that minimizes environmental impact. These services include the collection, treatment, and disposal of various waste types, ensuring they are processed according to environmentally safe standards. Businesses, particularly those operating in industrial sectors, benefit greatly from professional waste management systems, as they can reduce their carbon footprint, comply with regulations, and improve operational efficiency.

 

Recycling Services in Joo Koon: Reducing Industrial Waste

One of the most effective ways to manage waste is through recycling. Recycling services Joo Koon focus on repurposing materials that would otherwise end up in landfills. These services help industries and businesses to properly sort, process, and reuse waste products like metal scraps, paper, and plastic. Recycling is a key component of sustainable waste management, as it conserves natural resources and energy while reducing greenhouse gas emissions.

Industrial Scrap Recycling for Sustainable Operations

Companies involved in manufacturing and heavy industries generate large amounts of waste. Industrial scrap recycling Joo Koon addresses this issue by providing specialized recycling solutions. These services manage scrap materials such as metal, cables, and electronic components, ensuring they are repurposed effectively. By recycling industrial waste, businesses not only save costs but also contribute to environmental conservation.

Adopting eco-friendly waste disposal solutions is essential for creating a sustainable future. Efficient waste management services in Singapore offer industries the tools they need to handle waste responsibly while benefiting from recycling and scrap recovery. For organizations looking to streamline waste disposal operations, collaborating with professional services is a step in the right direction. With the support of MW Recycles, businesses can ensure their waste management practices align with environmental goals, helping Singapore stay on the path toward sustainability.

[ihr0]

Commercial Scrap Metal Recycling Solution Florence | Ih-r.com

Discover a reliable and sustainable commercial scrap metal recycling solution in Florence with Ih-r.com. We provide the highest quality services with the utmost care for the environment.

commercial scrap metal recycling solution Florence

[stphns3311]

Who Are We? YES Full Circle is an international tech-based, climate change, and circular economy platform that supports people and organizations to become global sustainability champions. What Does YES Full Circle Stand For? YES refers to Your Environmental Savings. Full Circle refers to ensuring that material we collect, is not landfilled, but is used back,

[creepyclothdoll]

Condemned

Paul loved escape rooms. 

He just loved them. The lovingly-crafted set designs and props, the electric buzz that came from finding hidden items and putting together puzzle pieces, the euphoria of cracking a code, the adrenaline of the ticking clock, and most importantly, the thrill of the escape. 

His friends had long ago stopped accompanying him every week, sometimes more than once a week, to escape rooms in his area. Especially once he started driving hours out of town just to try new escape game centers for a fresh hit of that delicious escape puzzle challenge.

Paul now preferred to go alone anyway. People just bogged him down. He didn’t come to make friends, he came to win. 

Months of hot anticipation finally bore fruit when the “Great American Escape” opened its doors to him, at long last. Great American, according to the billboards and posters strewn around town, was the primary attraction of an entertainment mega-complex which took the place of a long-disused waterpark hotel. It would be huge, he knew. Not just physically. His great fear was that it would blow up on social media– maybe even on his feed– and then the solutions would be spoiled for him. So he had to be first.

Great American Escape was so new the day he strode in there that there were still “CONDEMNED” notices stuffed into the recycling bins and old lists of health & safety violations stuck in the vents. 

“One ticket for Mystery Escape,” Paul, slapped his money on the counter and smiled at the teen boy working behind it. He was a short, lithe, wide-eyed man in his thirties with dark greasy hair and one navy blue university sweater he’d kept in moderate repair for a decade and a half.

“No group?” The boy asked. When Paul confirmed this, the boy said, “You’ll have to wait until a group comes in. You need three people at least.”

“When is the next group coming?” Paul asked.

“We don’t have any groups booked today,” the boy replied.

“... So, you’re not gonna let me in?” 

“... Um… yeah. I can’t. Sorry.”

Paul put down another handful of bills. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“I’ll buy three tickets,” he said. He made sure to draw the boy’s attention to the extra $20, a little tip for a helpful front deskman. 

The boy, who was thin and bored-looking with a patchy teen mustache and his elbow resting on top of a stack of I Escaped stickers, glanced at the security camera which flickered in the corner, its blinking red eye frosted over with a decade of dust. The boy took the $20 and shrugged. 

“You won’t be able to escape,” the boy said. “It’s impossible by yourself. But if you want to try… I guess you can try.”

The boy led Paul towards a set of slightly rusty elevator doors, past posters and cardboard cut-outs of characters from “Rattlesnake Gulch Treasure Hunt,” “Escape From Venus,” and “King’s Dungeon Jailbreak.” Paul planned to return to these, but he’d start by going straight for the crown jewel– Mystery Escape, which had been advertised exclusively with nothing but an open doorframe leading to darkness. 

The boy went over basic safety guidelines. The door wouldn’t really be locked, red things were real alarms, things that said “staff only” were really for staff only, etc., blah blah blah, boring stuff.  Paul listened impatiently, but carefully, only because knowing what was “real” (and therefore inconsequential) would give him a leg up in the game. 

“The game starts when the elevator door opens,” the boy finally said. “Floor 3. Good luck.”

The elevator bell dinged, and the doors slid open. The light flickered. Paul stepped inside. 

He waved to the boy as the doors shut. He pressed 3. 

The light above flickered. Paul could almost see his reflection in the red-rusted metal doors. 

The elevator began its ascent, and right away, Paul could tell something was strange. There was a creaking noise, like a train braking. The light flickered. The light sputtered out. 

The elevator stopped.

Paul was trapped. It was pitch black inside the tiny car, which made no sound or movement. 

The first thing Paul did in any escape room was to check around for hidden props. Keys, ciphers, and puzzle pieces were often hidden around a room for players to find, which would then give them a clue as to what to do next. Paul checked around the elevator car for hidden tools. He pulled up the mildewy carpet by its frayed edge– nothing under there but more mildew. But wait! On the bottom of the carpet there were numbers and letters: EL1. What could that possibly mean? 

The next thing Paul did in an escape room was to interact with anything interactable he could see. In front of him was a series of numbers, 1-5, a “door open” and “door close” button, and “emergency.” But “emergency” was red, and red things were inconsequential. 

Paul pushed all the buttons but the last. To his surprise, the door began to open slightly– then jammed. 

Paul mused about the possible meanings of “EL1.” E was the fifth letter, and there were five numbers… But L? 

Maybe it was a cipher. Paul thought on this. 

He started trying combinations of buttons. The cipher thing was the key somehow, he knew it. A cipher worked with a code. Where was the code? Maybe it had to do with the symbols, not the numbers…

Suddenly, it all made sense to him. He pressed a set of numbers and then hit the door open button.

To his delight and satisfaction, the elevator doors creaked open. And with them came light.

Paul could see well enough now to see that he faced a concrete wall, which took up the whole lower half of the exit. But above that half, Paul could see a hallway of a hotel, so tantalizingly close. 

Paul had beaten escape rooms that had physical components to them before, so this was cake. He gripped the edge of the concrete ledge in front of him and pulled himself up. He let out a grunt as his head and arms made it over the threshold. He just had to find something to grip so he could drag the rest of himself through the gap, and then it was on to the next puzzle.

The elevator lurched.

There was a sound. A scrape, a crash, a wet squelch, a snap. It all happened at once, and it was the loudest sound he ever heard.

When Paul finally sat up, he was somewhere completely different. It was dark here. Darker than the elevator car. The darkness of this place was crushing, like the depths of the deep ocean. There was a smell of meat all around. Paul quickly dismissed the idea of trying to adjust his eyes– he’d navigate by feel.

Paul reached out into the darkness and felt nothing. He stood. His hands pushed him up from a strangely soft, lumpy floor. He noticed something strange about the sound of his movements, and let out an inquisitive “Hey!” to check the echo. It did not bounce. He was… outside?

No– he must be in the disused waterpark proper. The building was huge. Paul was delighted by this thought. He’d chosen the right room.

Paul felt around for a wall, a light switch, a puzzle. Anything. 

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” said a deep voice.

“Hello?” Paul said after a moment. 

“You lived a selfish life, Paul. You cared for nothing and no one but yourself and your own pleasure. You were an idolater, a heretic. You raised the Escape Game to the heights of a god. Pity that from this place, there is no escape.”

Paul listened carefully to the monologue. Selfish. Idolater. Raised. Heights. These things might be clues. 

“Paul,” said the deep voice, which seemed to come from above, below, and all around him, “You died a foolish death. Pity that you did not suffer. But now, you will suffer for eternity.”

Paul was already climbing up a staircase he’d found. It was the disused waterpark. Raise, he thought. Heights. The key was to go up. 

He found a craggy, warm wall. There was something under his hand– a button? He pushed it in, hard.

Under his hand, a huge glowing red eye flew open. 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!” 

The eye blinked in pain and fury, welling up with tears. A thousand more eyes flew open along the wall before him, and Paul saw that it was not a wall at all, but some kind of enormous creature. It stirred, its red gaze illuminating the space around them.

“Stupid man. You woke something up.”

But now Paul could see the entire room– or space, or whatever it was. What he’d taken to be the “floor” was a mass of flesh– human hands, it looked like, reaching up stiffly. The hands started to stir as the creature woke from its slumber. What Paul had taken for a staircase was not that. 

Paul was making some real progress. As the hands clamored over each other, rising like tentacles from around the immense eyes, Paul hopped onto the face of the thing and started using the eyes as hand-and-footholds, which was their obvious use. Paul could spare no time on figuring out little things like that the honest way, he was on a clock. As he stepped on the creature’s eyes, it let out another unearthly roar and started to rise. 

There was a hole in the ceiling. Yes– this was meant to be a cave of some sort, and it had an exit. 

“You idiot,” the voice boomed. “You–”

Paul kicked the creature in the eye a few more times to make it rise faster. A tsunami of pale, writhing hands on wiggling stems shot up towards him to slap him away, but by the time they reached him, he was already through the hole. 

Paul scurried through the tunnel as fast as he could. If it was a three-person puzzle, you couldn’t waste any time.

He came to the next room, which was well-lit– a nice reprieve. In this room, a sweltering cave, some props department had gone all-out carving little demon faces that stuck out from the sides. These gargoyle-like stone structures leered at him and grinned in anticipation.

“The flametongue is coming, kindling,” the demon voices hissed. “Ready or not!” Paul heard a splashing, gurgling sound up ahead. He took quick note of some of the quirks of the gargoyle faces– most of them had black scorch marks on them, but some didn’t. That was a clue. The light from the other end of the tunnel grew brighter, as did the gurgling. Paul realized what he was meant to do, climbed up the protesting gargoyles, and found a set on the ceiling which had no scorching on them. Below, a wave of red-hot boiling sulferous-smelling magma flowed down, passing over the other gargoyles, who screeched and sputtered in it. Another puzzle solved. Paul dropped down once the stones cooled, and hurried up the tunnel– no time to spare. Only one more wave of “fire” passed before he solved the gargoyle pattern and pulled the right ones out of the wall in sequence to reveal a hidden exit.

This escape room was huge. He made his way through a room which featured a river of moving knives, which he was able to avoid by memorizing the timing and patterns, and climbed up into a room full of blistering ice and animatronic zombies which lurched toward him, their bodies crackling as they froze just as soon as they’d moved, their lips split by the cold. This puzzle was a simple matter of lining up the giant shards of ice in the room so that the light concentrated and blasted a hole through the glacial wall. 

Paul’s own body was profoundly frostbitten by this point, but he didn’t notice. He was on a timer. 

By the time Paul finally made it past the “three-headed-dog on a chain” puzzle, that subterranean voice from the first room had caught up with him.

“Paul,” the voice said. “There is no hope. There is no escape. Do you understand? You are dead, Paul–”

“Ssh,” Paul said, gazing at the puzzle before him. 

The door was immense. It seemed to stretch above him and beyond for miles. It was carved from stone older than the bedrock of earth, and above it, in an arch as large as the firmament, there was carved a phrase:

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

This was clearly important, because the deep voice had already voiced it earlier in the game. After checking the area for tools, Paul ran through anagrams. There were a lot of little props around the big door– lots of discarded holy texts, some bones, some strange bits of giant insectoid carapaces which Paul could not immediately identify. The bibles and such had bits burned and torn off of them in places. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. That was a ciper, maybe. He was sweating. He had to be at nearly an hour already. He started arranging the bones.

“What you are doing is futile nonsense,” the deep voice said.

Aha! By turning the phrase above the gate into numbers and then matching those numbers to the non-burned sections of each holy text, organized by the printing date, Paul had discovered an anagram which, when re-ordered, spelled out skeleton key prop, ds flo knemb yyuq. Paul had only bothered to spell out the first three words, however, due to the time crunch. That was all he needed to understand what to do, and he had done it: he had connected all the bones into one big key.

“I don’t think you understand, Paul. This is not a game. You cannot escape your fate. You cannot escape your death. You cannot escape damnation. You cannot escape from Hell.”

Paul slid the giant skeleton key into the lock. It took all of his strength to shove it to the back. Behind him, the host of hell scrambled over each other up the lip of the abyss– the thousand hands and eyes, the fire-spitting gargoyles, the lurching ice zombies, the great black dog, and many others, come to claim him for their own special torment.

Paul turned the key. There was a click. 

Well– more of a thunderous clunk.

The deep, gravelly noise of the stone door opening reverberated all throughout Hell.

“What the–”

“Hell yeah!” Paul shouted. He ducked through the door.

The red eye of the security camera caught it all. The man, crawling through the gap in the elevator. The lurch. The fall. The split.

The hopeless paramedics, the traumatized front desk boy, the shaking venue manager, the anxious lawyers, the dozens of police putting up brand-new yellow “do not cross” signage around the old hotel. 

The red eye of the security camera watched on as people in grim uniforms put the larger piece of what had been paul into a black bodybag and fetched the rest from the third story floor. 

“Used to love this waterpark when I was a little kid,” said one of the paramedics to another. “Now I hope they tear it down.”

“Wasn’t this place a lawsuit magnet back in the day?” said the other. “I remember a kid–”

The paramedics both noticed at the same moment that the body bag was moving. A lot. 

“Is he alive in there?” The first paramedic choked out, even though he understood that the answer had to be no. But then the zipper started sliding down. The bag was opening from the inside.

The headless body of Paul Gibson sat up. It reached out with its stumps of fingers, covered in cool dark blood, and rolled out onto the hotel lobby floor. Both paramedics screamed and leapt away as the decapitated Paul stumbled to its feet and lurched forward. It felt around without its fingers, leaving smears of blood on the front desk, the wall, the table, the “do not cross” tape, until it found the small white cooler on the floor. He pried it open with his mangled hands and lifted his own iced head out. 

Paul put his head on top of the gristle that was his neck. He had it the wrong way around, but his eyes opened and he smiled through bloody teeth. 

“I ss-ss-olved the b-a-ag puzzle,” the formerly dead man sputtered. “Did it a-all mys-self.”

He turned around to face both paramedics, so that his front side faced away. 

“Uh… congratulations,” the second paramedic said.

Paul choked up more blood and grinned wider. He stumbled toward the front desk, toward the paramedics. They backed away from him in horror as he reached out the wrong way and grabbed a commemorative I Escaped! sticker from the top of the pile.

“Th-a-ank you,” Paul said. “I’ll be su-ure to come back soon!”

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 14 "A World in a Grain of Sand"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

A/N: Giving you the eyebrow 🤨 because no one seems to have picked up on a tiny, little, important detail that was to be found in the last chapter, or at least no one mentioned it 😌 Finally I can write what I really crave to write. IT'S SCIENCE TIME 💖

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Day 31

"I have one last question, little slave," Vladimir Harkonnen drones from his afloat position, a celestial body of massive dimensions in front of the somber backdrop of his throne room, black within black with only a single glow globe illuminating the back of him. He prefers to shun the black sun these days, as glorious as it may be, it brings out the myriad of spider veins beneath his frail, aged skin.

"Yes, Lord Baron?" The unremarkable slave's voice echoes from below.

"What is this… ancient piece of metal in my dear nephew's toy's room?"

"I believe you must know more about it than I do. I assume you had it examined before it was unloaded and brought inside?"

"Naturally!" Vladimir raises his voice. The slave with her bowed head can't see the way the aged Baron squints to get a clearer picture of her. Afloat as he is, she is little more than a splotch of white against black, and an unwelcomely blurry one.

The examination had revealed a human shaped mold, cushioned with gel pads, thick tubes for coolant, a recycling system with residue nutrient solution, solar panels for energy harvesting. No traces of radiation or explosives. It almost seems like the metal box is exactly what the sisterhood had made it out to be. A hibernation chamber for a fossil from another time. However, it wouldn't be the first myth created by the Bene Gesserit.

"I know you are looking for something substantial, my Lord, and so was I," the slave speaks after the Baron's elongated pause. "But I'm afraid the truth is as embarrassing as it is mundane. I've come to believe that she keeps it close out of raw sentimentality. She's a sentimental creature, that woman."

Lilia has always loved danger and the long, twisted inkvine scar on her shoulder from girlhood days is just one proof of that. Perhaps that's why she so effortlessly serves the Baron velvet lies.

"Ah-h-h, like my Feyd-Rautha then. It doesn't surprise me," the Baron drawls, lungs expanding with a raspy heaviness to each intake of air.

In all his years as Giedi Prime's sovereign, Vladimir Harkonnen has never learned that the promise of a kind embrace outweighs the threat of violence tenfold and that a spark of human goodness can sway a servant's loyalty quicker than a snap of a whip.

"She calls it her sarcophagus," Lilia adds with a tiny scoff that doesn't go unnoticed by the Baron now that he has lowered himself and sinks back into the much more comfortable seat of his throne. The intimidation tactic has fulfilled its purpose.

He bellows. "So, she's got good humor too! A pity she's not a boy. I could have borrowed her sometimes."

The obedient set of Lilia's shoulders and her lowered gaze don't betray the noxious clench that has her stomach convulsing. Perhaps this is the only advantage of being a woman in the Harkonnen palace pyramid.

Day 45

The lack of color that had once bothered her into the throes of a slowly crawling depression is now a pleasure. The blackness of her abode has come to serve as the perfect desktop for columns of text and equations, formulations and simulations and hand-written notes that have her mouth moving and her eyeballs racing.

Her sarcophagus leeches the day's sun, side panels open to give way to rotating cooling fans. The Central Processing Unit of the computer that makes up half of the machinery inside buzzes from the strain she puts on it.

Astronaut M2-84 has finally come home and picked up the work of her own, chosen destiny.

Talking to God, Mikhail had whispered to his wife, is what the Lady is doing. But what she really does is think, read, calculate. Engineers born on the cusp of the astronautic age don't have their oily hands in tool boxes. Most of the time, they tell machines how to build other machines, and to do so, one needs to understand the laws of physics. 

This is how Feyd-Rautha finds her each night. Sometimes sunken against the cushions of her bed, or slumped over her desk, staring at the wall with dancing pupils. And other times, like tonight, she sits right by her Sarcophagus, shoulder pressed against the humming metal. She claims the connection between computer and chip is quicker this way.

Silently, Feyd's stride carries him across the room towards his precious engineer. Movement catches his attention at the right and the sight he finds causes a slow tilt of his head.

One quarter of her bed is filled out by a misshapen form, tucked under duvet and whalefur. Glugo lies prone on its stomach, limbs folded tightly against its covered body. Only one front arm-leg peaks out and cradles her plushie against its innocent pug face. Something glossy-white with small handles on each side is held in front of Glugo's mouth by tiny face-hands with liquid sloshing inside.

She has tucked Glugo in like a toddler. And, from the looks of it, she has printed it a sippy cup.

Feyd-Rautha feels all sorts of warmth filling out his chest. If because he wants to be tucked in like a toddler, or because his only friend is finally receiving the gentleness it deserves, or because of a different reason entirely, he can't tell. He raises his hand to wave at Glugo who gurgles softly in return, one tiny face-hand unlatching from the cup handle to wave back.

Glug glug glug.

"You're losing weight." Feyd approaches his beloved slowly. "I don't like it."

"One second, I'm at ninety-eight point five. Seven. Ninety-nine."

"Have you found out anything interesting today, my darling?"

He is long past asking what exactly she's doing, why they aren't simply figuring out a way to get his uncle to take his shield ring off so they can get a blade between his ribs. Or rather a sword, to pierce the obscene, fatty flesh costume he calls his body.

"Your spice—" His darling slurs with a concerning jump to her pupils.

"I don't take spice anymore." Feyd tilts his head and squats down before her, lifting his hands to cup her cheeks.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Ah, wait, what do you mean, not anymore?" Finally, her eyes regain focus and her arms fill with tension, fingers moving up to encircle Feyd-Rautha's strong wrists.

"There's my darling," he smiles with pretty, full lips and glinting teeth, stroking her cheeks. "So, what about my spice?"

"Not your spice in particular." Her hand flings out to gesture at the universe above. "Your spice shares a few molecular compounds with the medication I took to prepare for the cryo sleep." 

Feyd-Rautha's features slip into disbelief, a fresh frown carving deep into the smooth expanse of his forehead.

"Why does this surprise you?" She wonders.

"Spice is unique to Arrakis. Power over the spice means power over everything. How could you have had spice back on Earth without sandworms?"

"First of all, spice, much like anything else, is just protons, electrons and neutrons. With the right tools, you could, in theory, synthesize any molecule."

"And you have such a tool in your Sarcophagus?" 

"No! God, no." She laughs out loud and curls her arms around Feyd-Rautha's shoulders in a much needed embrace. Her very eyeballs ache and her spine feels calcified from leaning against the sarcophagus.

To him, it must seem like the solution to just about anything might be hidden in her cryo pod or in her precious chip, but it really holds only a fragment of the technological advancements of Old Earth. The last generation before mankind had embarked to the stars was an ingenious one. They had to be, and their knowledge is safely tucked into the 80 Billion terabyte hard-drive of her supercomputer. She may not have all the tools, but the knowledge to build them — in theory.

She taps the top of the cryo pod and hums. "Building molecules from scratch is not like building houses out of toy blocks. You need to accumulate tremendous amounts of energy in a lab environment to trigger complex chemical reactions."

"You've already built a chair from scratch, and a gun. And now a sippy cup for Glugo?" He states with an incredulous rasp of his voice.

"I couldn't bear seeing it drink from dog bowls anymore. And it struggled so much with cups and glasses, Lilia had to change the sheets twice because the poor thing kept spilling everything."

"You… You are fascinating, my darling." She doesn't miss the spark of arousal that lets Feyd's eyes half disappear under a fan of long lashes. "My point still stands, you've built other things before."

"Yes, but the materials were already there, I just had them pressed into the shape I desired." Feyd tilts his head and she cradles his jaw, stroking across the plushnes of his cheeks. "Were you not taught about chemistry?" Slowly, he shakes his head. "Ah, well, I will explain it to you another time then."

Feyd slides his mouth into her palm, groaning softly. "You know so much. How is it possible that you had spice 24 millenia ago?"

"Not spice. I said my pre-cryo medication shares a few interesting enzymes with spice." She slides one palm around Feyd-Rautha's nape of the neck and softly brings their foreheads together. "My people also used to think their own civilization was the pinnacle of all that has ever been. It was unthinkable that maybe the Aztecs or Sumerians were more advanced. That's how you are too. 

   You think spice is unique to Arrakis and the technological advancements you have derived from the Holtzman effect are the peak of what is achievable, because it suits you so nicely. But human evolution has never been a linear incline. You have fascinating medicine, Gholas and space travel… But who knows, maybe my people were smarter than yours. Maybe our engineers and chemists were smarter."

"You know so much," he moans again and she knows better than to keep boring him with details. One day, when the many other fires in his heart have settled, she can stoke his interest in science. Feyd is smart. He will come to be fascinated by it. 

"This universe is devouring itself because there is no innovation," she softly murmurs. "No one dares to go further, look further, break out of the pattern. Maybe they don't want to, because the consequences scare them. Mentats only do as their Lords bid…"

When Feyd's lips close in on hers, with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy stare, her ramblings subside into grateful, blissful silence, choosing to welcome his tongue in her mouth instead.

Day 59

"Silence!"

The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam's voice ripples in the shape of a waveform pattern across the engineer's interface, recorded many decades ago by Baron Harkonnen himself and transferred to the House archive for research purposes.

Other lines of the same encounter, she is certain, were deliberately removed. Such as when the Reverend Mother, then a young woman, had ordered the Baron to hold still so she could mount him and steal the seed out of his body that would sire the Lady Jessica.

She only knows of this story because of Feyd-Rautha, and what it had cost him to learn it, she doesn't even want to know.

"Silence!"

She can only imagine that Piter de Vries' research on the matter might have consisted to a considerable amount of snide mockery, going by Feyd's recountings of the late mentat, hence why the files were so perfectly abandoned and ready for her to pick apart.

Carefully, she separates the impressive cluster of different wavelengths that make up the audio fragment, finding portions all the way from the high-frequency to the low-frequency audible spectrum, some even so low that they are no longer perceived as sound by the human ear.

The astronaut remembers how the Reverend Mother had tested her in an archaic show of deference, forced onto her knees with her hand in a box while the older woman addressed the pain receptors in her brain via an inaudible wavelength. She may not have moved her lips, but that doesn't mean she didn't cause the air molecules to oscillate.

Technically speaking, this renders the mysteriously omnipotent sisterhood into little more than ventriloquists. That image of demystification offers at least a little comfort to the humiliation provided by the memory of searing pain in every nerve.

She reclines in her chair, swallowing against the dry itch in her throat while she strings together a few fairly simple lines of code.

Curiously, the voice doesn't affect her physiology when played from an artificial source, such as the micro speaker soldered onto her chip's tiny board.

She can only assume that by manipulation of the larynx, wielders of the voice can propel pressure waves in a way that a speaker can not. How exactly this forces the human brain into submission, the engineer cannot tell, but she doesn't need to, to tinker on some offensively simple counter magic to the Bene Gesserit's seemingly almighty tool of control.

Noise cancellation is as simple as letting a speaker emit a sound wave with the same amplitude but an inverted phase. The sound waves cancel each other out in destructive interference.

As much as this scientific victory entices her, it frustrates her endlessly that all of the side research she picks up to take her mind off the real problem bears more fruit.

"Refreshments for you, my Lady!" Lilia's voice snaps her out of her brooding thoughts. The maid slips through the door, bringing a tray of fresh fruit and the stimulating citrus drink that her Lady has come to enjoy as of late. "It's been three hours, it's time to take a break."

"Ugh, three? Felt like one." That explains the dry throat. The relic arches her spine and presses her knuckles against her closed lids until tiny flashes prickle across the dark.

Lilia's footsteps close in at her side along with four other pairs of hand-feet. She sets the tray down on the desk.

"And have you made any progress today, my Lady?"

"Not with the one thing that matters, but yes." She reaches for the pitcher but finds her hands gently shooed away by Lilia who insists on pouring the glass for her, tiny bubbles fizzing in the lemon water.

"Oooh! Have you thought about these visions, my Lady?" The handmaid's ears perk up with interest, enamored with the story of how Feyd and her Lady had gotten to know each other in dreams ever since she had indulged her.

Lilia regards the phenomenon of their getting acquainted with the eyes of a romantic. For the engineer however, this is the only topic that frustrates her more than finding a workaround for the Holtzman effect to get past the Baron's shield.

"Dreams, visions, I don't fucking know. I don't even want to think about them because they drive me fucking crazy." The engineer reaches for her glass and drinks with big gulps, making the maid flinch by how forcefully she slams it back down.

The crescent shaped scar she herself had created on Feyd's clavicle when grappling for his blade is the same that had decorated his skin in their lucid dreams. So, visions? But the topics they had discussed during their shared nights are events of the past. It defies logic, it's paradox. The thing that scares her the most, however, is the fact that the Baron's abuse was still real in those dreams. If they truly were visions of the future, does that mean her research is in vain and he will live?

There is no phenomenon that can't be explained, not even prophetic dreams. But not by her, and not yet.

"Sorry," she apologizes and rubs her temples, finding Glugo staring at her with big, milky eyes, one hand-foot clinging to Lilia's skirt. The engineer's heart softens at once and she leans towards her insecure looking friend. "Aw, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to scare you both, my poor, little— Aw!"

Glugo curls four out of its eight limbs around her calves and rests its chin on her knee, pearly eyes aimed unerringly at the pitcher of sparkling drink on the desk.

"That's citrus," she explains. "I don't think you'll like citrus…"

One of the Tleilaxu creature's oily-black hand-feet clutches the table's edge, another incessantly reaches for the glass container.

"Okay, fine, but just a tiny sip. Where's your cup?"

Glugo glugs cluelessly, looking at Lilia for help. Still, both women are uncertain if the being has any grasp on human language, or if it simply recognizes a question by the inflection of one's voice. 

The handmaid locates Glugo's cup in the folds of the duvet and quickly washes out the remnants of pink liquid over the sink in the bath before filling a finger of citrus inside. The creature's hand-feet tippy-tap on the tiles, reaching for the shiny container to take its first curious gulp.

Glugo's pug face puckers into a scrunched up grimace at once, face-hands releasing the sippy cup with an indignant noise.

Glurgh!

Day 93

It is a few weeks later, while Feyd and Mikhail are out brawling, that she figures it out.

"M'lord, I really am sorry," Mikhail laments, his flesh stripped of color as the black sun roars down on his bare torso. The na-Baron and he are prowling around each other in a tight circle, unarmed aside from their fists.

"You told me already." Feyd-Rautha's grating voice cuts through the sweltering air. The training ring's roof is retracted, giving way to blazing white skies and a heat that Giedi Prime's life forms have adapted to. "Five times. Another time, and I might just cut out your tongue."

"Ya know I had to take yer Lady to them bath chambers. Baron commanded it, and I can't just—" 

"Shut up, boy!" Feyd's boots crunch in the sandy gravel, shoulders rolling. He is stronger than Mikhail, rounded arms and pectorals contrasting a powerful, slender waist. The guard's physique is more wiry, taut muscles stretched across visible ribs. The glorious sun brings out an overabundance of gray scars.

"Boy, eh? Ain't any older than you, my Lord!" Feyd is surprised, tilting his head at the deceptive edges of the guard's features that make him look closer to 40.

"Fine, then shut up, brother!" Feyd bares his teeth and clenches his fists hard, veins rippling across his forearms. "What are the rules?" 

Mikhail's fist springs forward and punches Feyd-Rautha in the guts. He nearly doubles over, groaning in pain. Spit drips from his open mouth into the sand. 

"Rules?" The guard quips and aims his elbow for the na-Baron's nose. Feyd dodges with a semi-graceful dive to the side, taking the blow to his ear instead. He tastes blood on his tongue.

This man is bold. He has no manners. Feyd likes him. 

Mikhail is smaller, thinner, but he fights like a mongrel, like someone whose ferocious survival instincts have carried him from across the svart valta all the way to the royal palace in Barony. And Feyd struggles.

And by the black sun, he loses. Few things have ever excited him so much. After nearly an hour of grappling in the scorching heat, Feyd-Rautha finds himself on his back in the gravel, panting for dear life, ears ringing from the last punch square across his jaw. He barely hears Mikhail's voice when he praises that he had fought well, but he feels the brotherly smack on his sandy chest, right on top of a wicked bruise.

Every bone and muscle burns when he drags himself to his personal bath chambers. It was, undoubtedly, the best fight of Feyd-Rautha's life.

"Lilia! I've got it! I fucking got it, do you see this?!"

Pixelated particles give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"What, my Lady? See what?" The maid dashes into the bedroom from the antechamber with flying skirts.

"It's so simple, I'm so stupid." The relic has jumped up from the desk, fingers twisted like claws around the back of her chair while her chest heaves with laughter and a threat of tears. Lilia, of course, cannot see the baffling results of the simulation on the engineer's interface.

The Lady lurches over to the cryo pod, leaving the tilted chair swaying and falling down on the tiles with a bang. She mutters something along the lines of 'must build it', before her voice dissolves into foreign, ancient tongues and a shiver runs down Lilia's spine. Her voice so alien, her ways so enigmatic, she truly is a relic cracked open, pouring her forbidden knowledge into the world. 

But she is also a human and Lilia feels her Lady's voice and shaking body teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown as she snaps open several compartments of the sarcophagus.

"You figured it out, that's wonderful!" This barely gets the engineer's attention, so she curls her fingers around the woman's shoulder, gently forcing her away from the compartments. The relic slumps down with her back to the sarcophagus.

"I need to build it. I know there's laser diodes in there, I only need to—"

"Please, my Lady, you need to breathe deeply. Why don't you explain it to me first?" Lilia squats in front of her, holding her wrists in her warm hands. Her Lady is trembling, her breath too shallow and fast.

"It's so simple, I could build it in an hour."

"Please, do me the favor," Lilia insists and brackets the woman's trembling knees between her own. Finally, her Lady exhales a long sigh and lets her head sink against the humming metal.

"Alright," she agrees and starts with a jittery voice. "So, you're aware of what the Holtzman effect is?"

"Ah, yes, I think so?" The maid hadn't really known the term before her Lady had started rambling about it. "Shields and heighliners?"

The one discovery that has shaped the entire human universe and kept it shackled since then, and the average commoner barely even knows its name. The relic doesn't hold it against Lilia. In a world where “eat or be eaten” takes on a literal meaning, the last thing to worry about is science. So, she wills her voice into calmness. If she's going to try and explain it, she at least wants to do it well.

"The Holtzman effect is responsible for the four major technologies that have made the world into what it is today. The first one — shields. No fast-moving object can pass through a shield, so guns like these?" She points towards her nightstand. "They've been useless for millennia. That's why you've resorted to close combat weapons."

"I was wondering why you went for a gun and not a blade." Lilia tilts her head. Close combat weapons are all that she's ever personally encountered. She knows that lasguns exist and that each Great House has an arsenal of atomic warheads, but every soldier has a sword on their hip, not a gun.

"Melee weapons seem so…" The engineer struggles to find a corresponding word in Galach. "Medieval to me. Archaic. Warfare on Earth was nothing like this."

"What was it like?" Lilia whispers in awe, noticing her Lady's shaking abate second by second.

"You could obliterate entire cities within the blink of an eye. A million different ways to set a home on fire and kill a population from a thousand miles away. It was terrible." Which is why what she has discovered is just as terrible.

The relic continues. "The other three technologies derived from the Holtzman effect are suspensors, glowglobes and space travel. You know why I was in that metal coffin here?" She taps against the sarcophagus. "Because a journey within our own solar system would take several years. You however can travel to the other side of the universe within the blink of an eye, through a quantum tunnel."

Lilia has never left the planet, but to imagine trade and travel without space-folding almost strikes her as ridiculous. All of humanity, reduced to just one, single planet. The cradle of mankind. The thought humbles her.

"And all four of these are based on one single effect?" Lilia considers herself an intelligent woman, but she doubts she can understand what took her Lady weeks to figure out.

"The essence of the Holtzman effect lies in how subatomic particles interact with each other."

"Subatomic?"

"Any type of matter is made of smaller building blocks. This metal for example is made of all kinds of molecules, which are made of atoms, and every single atom is made of protons, electrons and neutrons. These are called subatomic particles. Protons and neutrons make up the nucleus of an atom, and you can imagine the electrons orbiting the nucleus almost like planets a sun."

The handmaid quite enjoys that mental image. It's like the smallest particles exist in a cosmos of their own. "So, the Holtzman effect has something to do with protons, electrons and neutrons?" Lilia imagines, if she could have gone to school like she wanted as a girl, it may have been something like this.

"Almost. It gets even smaller. Protons and neutrons are made of quarks, tiniest quantities that cannot be divided any further. I could go into more detail and talk about quantum physics," the relic pronounces a word that is just guttural enough for Lilia to imitate without all too many struggles. "But that won't be necessary for now."

Even though her Lady has stopped shaking, Lilia doesn't want to release her wrists yet. She is glued to the engineer's lips, soaking up what sounds like forbidden knowledge, like having a peek through God's microscope.

"What is a Holtzman shield made of? What do you think?" The engineer wraps her own fingers around Lilia's slender wrists and the maid sinks from squatting on her soles to sitting down on her bum, stretching out her legs on either side of her Lady's.

"I don't know, my Lady. Uh, something that repels?"

"Yes, that's right," she nods encouragingly. "There are several forces in the universe that attract and repel. The most well-known force of attraction is gravity. And electro-magnetism— Opposite poles attract, equal poles repel each other. But there are other forces that work on a subatomic level."

The engineer pauses without urging her and Lilia takes a moment to think.

"I'm guessing there's a subatomic force that keeps these, uh, nuclei together? The protons and neutrons? Because if not, everything would just be falling apart?"

It almost frightens her to imagine what her very own body must look like on its deepest level. A cluster of tiniest quantities, held together by forces as invisible as her Lady's interface.

"That's perfectly true!" The woman from Old Earth beams, fingers clenching around Lilia's wrists. "The force responsible for that is called the strong nuclear force. On an even smaller scale, the strong force holds together the quarks that make up the neutrons and protons, but you already said it just right."

Warmth fills out the handmaid's chest and she slowly begins to understand the feeling that had her Lady nearly panicking earlier. Her own heart drums against her ribs quick and hard.

"Okay, so now what about the Holtzman shield and how can you get past it?"

"For that, we also need to take the other subatomic force into consideration. It's called the weak force. Isn't that creative? Despite its name, the weak force is technically stronger than gravity, but it is only effective at very short distances and it can change one quark type into another. What do you think happens when such a change occurs?"

"Hmmm," the Harkonnen woman ponders. She doesn't want to disappoint her Lady who is putting so much effort into her explanation. "If quarks are the smallest quantities that make up anything, I suppose when something changes on the lowest level, this change translates to the highest level as well?"

"You're a natural, Lilia." Upon that, the maid blushes purple and finally releases the relic's wrist in a sudden burst of shyness. "Such a change can turn one element into another. It happens all the time, in every sun. And also in radioactive decay. This is important."

"How so?"

"Imagine if that radioactive decay was amplified. Imagine throwing a huge amount of energy at a substance that is already sporadically decaying. Imagine a whole chain reaction of it. This is what triggers a nuclear explosion, the kind that obliterates an entire city."

Lilia's eyes grow wide with understanding. "So, that's why, when you shoot a lasgun at a Holtzman shield, it triggers a nuclear explosion?"

"That's right. I believe shields are made up of nuclei and rely on both the strong and the weak force to repel incoming objects on a subatomic level."

"All of that was fascinating, but how does it help us get past the shield?" Suddenly it's us, not you. Lilia has clutched the fabric of the relic's trousers over the knees in both of her fists. What the engineer's poor Feyd-Rautha currently lacks in fascination, Lilia makes up for a hundredfold.

"Oh, that was just the prelude." The engineer's lips twist into an almost mischievous little grin. "It's just what I need to take into consideration, so I don't accidentally blow up the shield and the city instead of passing through it."

"Just the prelude? My Lady, I think I'll go insane if you don't get to the point!"

The relic bursts out laughing. "We're almost done, I promise! Imagine you're riding in a groundcar and next to you drives another one with the exact same speed. When you look at it, it seems like you're both standing still, because the relative speed between both cars is zero." Lilia nods and the engineer smiles knowingly. "Now imagine you're a bullet and you want to pass through a Holtzman shield which only allows slow-moving objects to pass."

"Then I'd need the shield particles to move in the same direction as I do, only a tad slower, so that my relative speed is like that of a slow blade."

"Congratulations, you've just figured out how to trick a Holtzman shield."

"That is absolutely genius, my Lady."

"No, it's actually so simple." The woman shakes her head. "The difficult part is how to put the shield particles into motion, but I've figured something out." She summons the pixelated particles that are only for herself to see once more, nuclei that make up a Holtzman shield, accelerated by a burst of calibrated laser light, and how they give way to a bullet that cuts through them like a harpoon through water.

"Now I only need to build a proper gun," the engineer concludes.

Lilia has never cared much about the rest of the universe, and the universe has never cared much about her. Why would she care if her Lady, who has always been good to her, sets everything on fire?

When the door to Feyd-Rautha's personal bath chamber rushes open, he knows it can only be his darling, because the scanner only recognizes her handprint when he is inside.

The na-Baron is submerged to the jaw in oily-black liquid to soothe his bruises, a diluted version, heavily scented with the essence of exotic fruit and spices. He cannot breathe the unadulterated variant without gnawing memories of horror.

Her hectic footfalls cause him to spin around in the tub with worry, but before he can even utter a greeting, he finds his woman sagging down on her knees in front of him and his face captured in her palms.

"I've found a way!" She sobs.

"You've found a way?"

Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, bringing her forehead against his. She's found a way. To kill the Baron and destroy the universe.

She is so elated, her joy could make a star rotate, it could set the world on fire. She kisses Feyd hard on the lips, melting against the wet expanse of his chest when he embraces her in his strong arms. His muscles break into tremors just like hers had an hour ago. 

All of her doubts have flown away like comets in the sky of a fiery dawn.

"Feyd-Rautha, would you be my husband?"

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour

— Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

A/N: Pretty much none of the physical concepts mentioned are made up. I've tried to use real physics to offer explanations for Frank Herbert's fantastical inventions that make the Dune universe so unique.

I'm not even close to the level of genius that I admire in my favorite sci-fi authors, but all of this was so insanely much fun to come up with. I have more ramblings about space travel, suspenders and glowglobes, but they weren't really necessary for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. I'm very proud ❤️

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst

[seat-safety-switch]

By now, it has become an agonizing cliche that any amount of work on a modern car will terminate in you losing at least one 10-millimetre socket. "Oh no, my 10mm is missing," you'll groan to your friends, who immediately respond with haw-haw looks and jokes. Being the butt of such a horrible stereotype is far worse than losing your socket, which is itself a pretty bad day at work.

There are many techniques that don't work. I myself often write with a Sharpie on the socket "9.5mm," in the hope that it will confuse the curse enough that they will not be lost. I buy ones in weird colours. I use a giant neodymium magnet on the fender so they can't roll away and into the mouth of a nearby blower motor. Nothing works.

Official Chinese government numbers indicate that nearly 60% of the cars their metal recyclers crush, by weight, are 10-millimetre sockets. Your entire washer and dryer set is probably made out of the stuff that fell out of my pockets last year when I was trying to yank an evap solenoid.

Of course, there's a real solution too, and it just happens to be the same kind of solution that capitalism always presents. Buy a whole shitload of 10mms and walk into the junkyard jingling. You can lose a ton of them and not even care, as long as you have one left. This is an appealing vision, to be certain. Everyone wants to Be Prepared... but what happens when the curse moves on to your 12mm, something that is needed nearly as often?

Our scientists, with the help of a psychic that we found all by herself in a completely abandoned shopping mall, have determined an even better fix. We arm one volunteer with a chain-mail coat made entirely of ten-millimetre sockets, and walk their ass into the junkyard. They don't do any wrenching, which would cause them to lose their bounty. All they do is walk around, and when they see someone in crisis, break a socket off and hand it to the stricken victim.

There is a downside: any volunteer who does this is struck with so much positive karma that they start getting a little loopy, and create their own death cult right in the middle of the yard. To keep this from happening again, we have to regularly rotate out the volunteers, and put duct tape over their mouths so they can't start spouting the Good Word until a team of engine-pulling weirdos begin to kill in their name. I admit that the system is a little bit unorthodox, but I've never gotten parts pulled faster.

[elite-clearance]

What we stand for

[teenage-hallucination-syndrome]

FNAF: Secret of the Mimic

Spoilers ahead so be warned.

Ok so, I just finished watching a play-through and they took the not giving up the data-diver and going through the 1st location and then the house ending. There are plenty of important things to learn from this.

First off: When going into the first location that's under construction we see that Foxy, Chica, Monty, Fredbear, Yellow Rabbit, Bonnie, and Bud (A dog animatronic?) seem to all be there. Most interesting is that Monty is there, because he does not appear in any location until we see him in Security Breach. As for Bud, I think he was just an easter egg to the faux dog animatronic myth in FNAF 1.

Secondly: We discover that M1 is a replica of Fiona (which is something I kind of assumed but I did not expect to actually see). What is so important about this is that earlier in the game we know that Fiona attends Fall Fest because she is worried about something going wrong. We also know that this Fall Fest is the one that burns down and Fiona dies in the process. This is important to note because Edwin mentions that he does not know how to get the M2 program to work, and he is not even sure why the M1 program works in the first place. Molten Metal and it's properties in this franchise is a big deal... so the fact that Fiona died in a fire near a bunch of Edwin Murray's creations... also based on Dollie's area we know that Edwin recycled a lot of his broken machines to create new ones. So if Fall Fest burns down and Fiona dies in that fire and has her soul bonded to the metal, which is then recycled by Edwin and used to make the M1, that would explain the missing piece of why it worked. That was the part that Edwin could not quite understand, but would be something that both Afton and Henry would come to learn.

Speaking of Henry, his place in the lore is a little weird right now. William Afton is assumed to be the C.E.O. of Fazbear, or at least a very important person within the business (this is confirmed by mail in SotM in which he mentions to someone that he can get them a franchise store to run). Edwin and Fiona Murray are the creators of the characters that Fazbear uses, Fiona designed most of the characters (and likely their backstories as well) and Edwin designed the physical suits and the spring-lock mechanisms. Based on clues throughout the game it is heavily implied that Henry and Edwin are friends (Edwin refers to him as "Hen" multiple times), and within that same voice note we discover that it's Henry who tells Edwin to redesign the suits so that endoskeletons can fit within them (to cut on labor costs apparently). The solution seems to be that while Edwin created all of suits, Henry designed the endoskeletons... except that the Mimic and Endoskeletons look very similar to each other. Which could imply a number of things. Maybe they just happened to look the same, they were both designed to do the same things (fit into suits), so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say that they just happened to be similar. Of course we know that other creators and designers work at MCM so it's also likely that Henry was one of these and maybe the liaison to Fazbear (before joining the Fazbear team later). This could mean that the Mimic is based on Henry's endoskeleton design and that Henry would then betray Edwin by giving a lot of his information over to Fazbear.

We do know 100% that Edwin is the creator of the program that runs the mimic and clearly has built machines and whatnot in the past. However, it is never specifically stated within the games (as far as I have seen) that he built the body that the Mimic inhabits. Also, no one else seems to know about M1 or M2 other than Edwin and David, F10-N4 mentions this to Edwin saying that he should not tell anyone about her, though it is pretty unclear if he does or does not.

It's about to get a little crazier with unfounded theorizing so bare with me: I think that Edwin works at MCM under his father, maybe they still make things but definitely not robotics. Within this time of working under his father Edwin meets Fiona, they has a wonderful meet-cute, yay. Then his father dies and Edwin takes over and decides to pivot the company to a more robotic/invention route. Edwin and Henry work together during this point (whether or not they both worked together Edwin's dad is unclear) and are both inventors and creators. Fazbear then licenses MCM to use their machines and characters for Fall Fest (once again it is unclear what franchises are open under Fazbear during this time). Then that Fall Fest happens and Fiona dies in a fire leaving Edwin to mourn and create the M1 mimic which assumes her personality. The idea to create the M1 is probably from Edwin hearing Fiona in certain radio signals throughout MCM (Maybe some of her soul metal was used to create these radios?). M1 is created and it is a success, however, now that Fiona is gone Edwin does not really have time to look after David (his and Fiona's son) so he builds the M2 to be a babysitter of sorts. Then sometime in around December 6th David dies (I think in the books he's hit by a car, and it is heavily implied that this is also true within the games). This causes Edwin to spiral and he tries to make M2 a copy of David, and fails tremendously without even knowing why (it is probably the lack of soul metal). During this time he is not really focusing on MCM and it's going under bad, also the employees are not happy with him at all. So Fazbear swoops in and starts to employ them/offer them rewards of they join the team and also give insight into Edwin's creations. Fazbear is still employing Edwin's services at this time as well, he is working on the "Fazbear Project" which turns out to be the first ever Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Fazbear Entertainment seems to be a very difficult customer to work with, because right towards the end of the project they send him new designs for the animotronics. Before this project is completed MCM goes under and Edwin is overcome with grief trying to get M2 to be David. Eventually while working on that an explosion happens and the M2 (learning from Edwin himself) leaves Edwin to die because the M2 is "too busy."

I'd like to think that the endoskeletons we see are likely Henry's design (what else would be his purpose at this point?), but maybe the technology that makes them work has always been Mimic in nature. I think somehow Henry caught wind of the M1 or M2 programs and it was his job to recreate them for Fazbear to use in their animatronics. This would also lend a hand to the whole kids possessing suits thing, rather than an actual full on possession the animatronics are mimicking the children's behaviors while they are also stuffed within the suits (there is also an element of actual possession with the whole soul metal thing so...).

This is a lot to take in and I'm not even done with seeing 100% of the game but I wanted to throw some initial thoughts out there to clear my head a bit. I also really want to know the canonicity of every single game before the first Help Wanted (thinking heavily about the "game within a game universe" detail that gets dropped at the start of that). There are a lot of clear parallels between SotM and the first 4 "core" FNAF games.

The house on the Hill being both where the Murray's live and where it was assumed the Afton's lived in FNAF 4.

The bedroom in Moon.exe looking extremely similar in layout to the bedroom in FNAF 4.

The FNAF 3 map laying on a table within the Pizza location under MCM.

The pizza location under MCM having the same layout as FNAF 1. (Also the fact that you take the role of the animatronics breaking into the security office to discover F10-N4 seems like a major detail).

Also Edwin mentions that he wants to stick with the original designs of the characters as opposed to the new "creepy" designs that Fazbear proposes. While this could be a nod to the early days of Scott's game dev experience, I wonder if the new designs are the FNAF 2 Toy Animatronics.

Also there's a lot of overlap between the characters of FNAF 6 and all the ones seen throughout MCM (clearly tying together the idea that Fazbear Entertainment kind of just stole everything from Edwin).

This is as much as I can think right now, but I really want to review lore from the older games while viewing them as games within the universe themselves. Basically saying "What do these games that don't have all the information conveying in broad strokes?" Just finding overarching parallels and whatnot.

Also I feel like Sister Location is just screaming at me, something to do with Ennard and it taking over Michael's body. There's some theory about the Mimic stealing William's identity and that way he's still alive, albeit, super murderous (though I'm sure he's just one insane guy, no mass murder robot needed).

[greenarabia]

[gravitainr]

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