#Modular Office Space

[camaraindustries]

Choose from a design installation that includes two, three or four-walled buildings, one or two stories tall, or mezzanines. Get modular office space & in-plant buildings that allow you to expand your business quickly. Prefabricated modular offices and buildings can be configured to fit any size space. Contact us today about a quote on your Modular Office needs. Know More:- https://camaraindustries.com/pre-manufactured-buildings/

[interiorergonomics]

How Contemporary Coffee Tables are Designed?

Contemporary coffee tables are primarily designed with a focus on functionality, aesthetics, and versatility. The main reason for this being that, they must reflect the evolving needs and preferences of modern living spaces.

Contemporary Coffee Table Composition and Design

Coffee tables feature clean lines, minimalist forms, and a blend of materials such as wood, glass, and metal, creating a sophisticated yet practical centerpiece for the living room. Designers prioritize multi-functional elements, incorporating storage solutions like built-in shelves, drawers, or hidden compartments to maximize utility without sacrificing style.

Additional Features

Some contemporary coffee tables are designed with adjustable or modular components, allowing them to adapt to different spaces and uses. This combination of form and function ensures that contemporary coffee tables not only enhance the visual appeal of a room but also contribute to its overall efficiency and organization.

[seoladyuk]

Installing a made-to-order garden room is one of the quickest ways to add valuable living space to your Hertfordshire or Essex property. Our workshop is based near Hertford, we hand build extended living modular garden rooms for work and leisure.

If you’re considering moving and want to add significant value to your property, our garden rooms can be built in under 3 weeks with no requirement for planning permission on your private property as a homeowner. Garden Rooms Installed and Made to Order

For those considering a move or seeking to enhance their current living situation, bespoke garden rooms offer a quick and stylish solution. Our workshop not only prides itself on bespoke design but also on rapid installation, often completing the transformation in under three weeks. The best part? No need for the bureaucracy of planning permissions. According to a 2022 Rightmove report, the demand for ‘office,’ ‘workspace,’ or ‘working from home’ spaces has soared by a staggering 326%, making our garden rooms a timely and sought-after addition during lockdown. Designed by you, installed by Outdoor Modular Spaces.

Beyond the speed, our commitment to efficiency ensures minimal disruption to your household, with your new space fully ready within six weeks. Crafted for all-season comfort, our bespoke garden rooms boast full insulation, making them a haven no matter the weather. Imagine basking in the luxury of year-round usability, turning your garden room into a retreat for work or leisure. Enquire now on 020 3978 1200.

Are you a homeowner in Hertfordshire or Essex with an eye for the extraordinary? Consider a bespoke garden room as the unique touch that sets your property apart. These versatile spaces serve a myriad of purposes, each limited only by your imagination.

Transform your garden room into a personal fitness haven. Equip it with exercise gear and take advantage of the private space for uninterrupted workouts.

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #38

Oct 11-18 2024

President Biden announced that this Administration had forgiven the student loan debt of 1 million public sector workers. The cancellation of the student loan debts of 60,000 teachers, firefighters, EMTs, nurses and other public sector workers brings the total number of people who's debts have been erased by the Biden-Harris Administration using the Public Service Loan Forgiveness to 1 million. the PSLF was passed in 2007 but before President Biden took office only 7,000 people had ever had their debts forgiven through it. The Biden-Harris team have through different programs managed to bring debt relief to 5 million Americans and counting despite on going legal fights against Republican state Attorneys General.

The Federal Trade Commission finalizes its "one-click to cancel" rule. The new rule requires businesses to make it as easy to cancel a subscription as it was to sign up for it. It also requires more up front information to be shared before offering billing information.

The Department of Transportation announced that since the start of the Biden-Harris Administration there are 1.7 million more construction and manufacturing jobs and 700,000 more jobs in the transportation sector. There are now 400,000 more union workers than in 2021. 60,000 Infrastructure projects across the nation have been funded by the Biden-Harris Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. Under this Administration 16 million jobs have been added, including 1.7 construction and manufacturing jobs, construction employment is the highest ever recorded since records started in 1939. 172,000 manufacturing jobs were lost during the Trump administration.

The Department of Energy announced $2 billion to protect the U.S. power grid against growing threats of extreme weather. This money will go to 38 projects across 42 states and Washington DC. It'll upgrade nearly 1,000 miles worth of transmission lines. The upgrades will allow 7.5 gigawatts of new grid capacity while also generating new union jobs across the country.

The EPA announced $125 million to help upgrade older diesel engines to low or zero-emission solutions. The EPA has selected 70 projects to use the funds on. They range from replacing school buses, to port equipment, to construction equipment. More than half of the selected projects will be replacing equipment with zero-emissions, such as all electric school buses.

The Department of The Interior and State of California broke ground on the Salton Sea Species Conservation Habitat Project. The Salton Sea is California's largest lake at over 300 miles of Surface area. An earlier project worked to conserve and restore shallow water habitats in over 4,000 acres on the southern end of the lake, this week over 700 acres were added bring the total to 5,000 acres of protected land. The Biden-Harris Administration is investing $250 million in the project along side California's $500 million. Part of the Administration's effort to restore wild life habitat and protect water resources.

The Department of Energy announced $900 Million in investment in next generation nuclear power. The money will help the development of Generation III+ Light-Water Small Modular Reactors, smaller lighter reactors which in theory should be easier to deploy. DoE estimates the U.S. will need approximately 700-900 GW of additional clean, firm power generation capacity to reach net-zero emissions by 2050. Currently half of America's clean energy comes from nuclear power, so lengthening the life space of current nuclear reactors and exploring the next generation is key to fighting climate change.

The federal government took two big steps to increase the rights of Alaska natives. The Departments of The Interior and Agricultural finalized an agreement to strengthen Alaska Tribal representation on the Federal Subsistence Board. The FSB oversees fish and wildlife resources for subsistence purposes on federal lands and waters in Alaska. The changes add 3 new members to the board appointed by the Alaska Native Tribes, as well as requiring the board's chair to have experience with Alaska rural subsistence. The Department of The Interior also signed 3 landmark co-stewardship agreements with Alaska Native Tribes.

The Department of Energy announced $860 million to help support solar energy in Puerto Rico. The project will remove 2.7 million tons of CO2 per year, or about the same as taking 533,000 cars off the road. It serves as an important step on the path to getting Puerto Rico to 100% renewable by 2050.

The Department of the Interior announced a major step forward in geothermal energy on public lands. The DoI announced it had approved the Fervo Cape Geothermal Power Project in Beaver County, Utah. When finished it'll generate 2 gigawatts of power, enough for 2 million homes. The BLM has now green lit 32 gigawatts of clean energy projects on public lands. A major step toward the Biden-Harris Administration's goal of a carbon pollution-free power sector by 2035.

Bonus: President Biden meets with a Kindergarten Teacher who's student loans were forgiven this week

[supremeat]

PANELLO - GOLD

Transforming Spaces: The Versatility of Slat Wall Panels, MDF Panels, and Wall Profiles

In contemporary interior design, versatility and functionality are key. This is where innovative materials like slat wall panels, MDF panels, and wall profiles come into play. These elements not only enhance the aesthetic appeal of a space but also offer practical solutions for organization and customization.

Slat Wall Panels: A Modern Solution for Display and Storage

Slat wall panels are an excellent choice for both residential and commercial spaces. Their design consists of horizontal slats mounted on a wall, which allows for the easy attachment of various accessories such as shelves, hooks, and baskets. This modular approach provides a customizable storage solution that can be adapted to fit different needs. Retailers and homeowners alike appreciate slat wall panels for their ability to create organized, visually appealing displays. They are particularly popular in retail environments for showcasing products, but their use is expanding into home decor, garages, and office spaces.

MDF Panels: A Blend of Functionality and Elegance

Medium-Density Fiberboard (MDF) panels are a staple in modern interior design due to their versatility and smooth finish. Made from wood fibers and resin, MDF panels are engineered to provide a stable, durable surface that can be easily cut, shaped, and painted. This makes them ideal for a wide range of applications, from cabinetry and wall panels to intricate moldings and custom furniture. Their smooth texture allows for a high-quality finish, making MDF panels a preferred choice for projects that demand a polished look.

Wall Profiles: Enhancing Architectural Elements

Wall profiles are essential for adding finishing touches and architectural details to a space. These profiles come in various shapes and sizes, including cornices, architraves, and skirting boards. They serve both decorative and functional purposes, framing windows and doors, covering joints between walls and ceilings, and adding character to otherwise plain surfaces. Wall profiles can be made from materials like MDF, polyurethane, or plaster, each offering unique benefits in terms of durability and ease of installation.

Conclusion: Combining Style and Function

Incorporating slat wall panels, MDF panels, and wall profiles into your design strategy can significantly elevate the look and functionality of any space. Slat wall panels offer flexible storage and display options, MDF panels provide a versatile and high-quality surface for various applications, and wall profiles add refined details that enhance the overall aesthetic. Together, these elements create a cohesive and stylish environment that meets both practical and design needs.

Whether you're revamping a retail space, updating your home decor, or designing an office, these materials offer numerous possibilities for customization and innovation. Embrace their potential to transform your surroundings with elegance and efficiency.

[rheya28]

Sol School of Fashion ♥ The Sims 4: Build // CC

Sol School of Fashion "SOF" is a well known fashion studio/school located in Del Sol Valley. SOF is a space that encourages boldness, creativity, and innovation. Sims can have access to a café, photo studios, a classroom, a meeting room, a lounge, as well as a customizable runway with a backstage dressing room that consist of all the fashion necessities needed to produce a professional fashion show event.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

♥ Hi guys, today I present to you SOL School of Fashion "SOF". This build/project is extremely special as I collaborated with the lovely and talented @farfallasims who kindly curated all the looks for the 2023 SOF Fashion Show Event Looks Curated by: @farfallasims [ Look Book Link ] 25:23

➽ Important Notes:

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Sol School of Fashion Lot type: Generic lot type or Cafe Lot size: 40x30 Location: Starlight Boulevard, Del Sol Valley

➽ Mods:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Awingedllama : Boho Living, nostalgia living

Greenllama: The woodwind collection

Novvas: Holz Kitchen

Qicc: Sleep Hallway, Urban Bedroom

S-imagination: Nota

Sooky: Abstract framed posters -wooden frame

Sooky: Bon ton n1 ceiling lamp - Tall

Syboubou: Daguerre Reica Camera, Ballet mirror , fency

The Clutter Cat: Dandy Diary, Mellow moods

Aira : Artist in me

Anye: Zara Bathroom

ATS4: pot 4, pot 13, plant 16 Crafting room: dressform blouse, dressform male, dressform suit, folded fabrics, jar, paperstack, patterns, sewing machine

Harrie: Bafroom, brownstone, kichen

House of Harlix: Baysic, harluxe, brutalist, coastal, kwatei, octave, shop the look 2, spoons, Jardane, Livin Rum, Orjanic, tiny twavellers

Felix Andre: Berlin, Chateau, fayun, colonial, grove, kyoto, paris, shop the look

Brainstrip: my corner cc pack desk only

Charlypancakes: Munch, the lighthouse collection, miscellanea, modish, smol

Leori: Hipster loft

Illogical Sims: Home office

Kaiso: rustico living

Kate Emerald: Blissful baby Ottoman

Kiwisims4: Blockhouse hallway, Blockhouse Dining

Leaf Motif: Devon kitchen

Little Dica: Country side Cabin, Rise & Grind, sleek slumber

Madame Ria: Back to basics paint wall, Limber lumber

Madlen: Hiru misc set

Rusticsims: Mayaken, Modular life

Myls: Simple Clothes rack nordic

Mxims: LG

Myshunosun: Sol kitchen, Arrie Office, Gale dining, Lottie, Macaron kitchen, herbalist kitchen, tranquil bedroom

Peacemaker: Alesund, Hudson, Kitayama, Terra tiles horizontal/vertical, Vera Office

Pierisim: Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du clos, MCM, Oak house, Tilable, unfold, Winter Garden

max20/maxsus: Poolside lounge pack

Sforzinda: Func EP02 Espressogrindomatic, espressoimpresso, cabin slats

sims4luxury: Mcgee&co Callhan rug

Sixam: Artz Living room, small spaces work from home, hotel bedroom, kessler kitchen, stylist wood livingroom, teen room

TaurusDesign: Eliza Bedroom, Elsa kids room

mycupofcc: Modernist

Tuds: 2ndWave, beam, cave, cross, wave

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

1. ‘It was an accident’: the scientists who have turned humid air into renewable power

Greetings, readers! Welcome to our weekly dose of positivity and good vibes. In this edition, I've gathered a collection of uplifting stories that will surely bring a smile to your face. From scientific breakthroughs to environmental initiatives and heartwarming achievements, I've got it all covered.

In May, a team at the University of Massachusetts Amherst published a paper declaring they had successfully generated a small but continuous electric current from humidity in the air. They’ve come a long way since then. The result is a thin grey disc measuring 4cm across.

One of these devices can generate a relatively modest 1.5 volts and 10 milliamps. However, 20,000 of them stacked, could generate 10 kilowatt hours of energy a day – roughly the consumption of an average UK household. Even more impressive: they plan to have a prototype ready for demonstration in 2024.

2. Empty Office Buildings Are Being Turned Into Vertical Farms

Empty office buildings are being repurposed into vertical farms, such as Area 2 Farms in Arlington, Virginia. With the decline in office usage due to the Covid-19 pandemic, municipalities are seeking ways to fill vacant spaces.

Vertical farming systems like Silo and AgriPlay's modular growth systems offer efficient and adaptable solutions for converting office buildings into agricultural spaces. These initiatives not only address food insecurity but also provide economic opportunities, green jobs, and fresh produce to local communities, transforming urban centers in the process.

3. Biden-Harris Administration to Provide 804,000 Borrowers with $39 Billion in Automatic Loan Forgiveness as a Result of Fixes to Income Driven Repayment Plans

The Department of Education in the United States has announced that over 804,000 borrowers will have $39 billion in Federal student loans automatically discharged. This is part of the Biden-Harris Administration's efforts to fix historical failures in the administration of the student loan program and ensure accurate counting of monthly payments towards loan forgiveness.

The Department aims to correct the system and provide borrowers with the forgiveness they deserve, leveling the playing field in higher education. This announcement adds to the Administration's efforts, which have already approved over $116.6 billion in student loan forgiveness for more than 3.4 million borrowers.

4. F.D.A. Approves First U.S. Over-the-Counter Birth Control Pill

The move could significantly expand access to contraception. The pill is expected to be available in early 2024.

The Food and Drug Administration on Thursday approved a birth control pill to be sold without a prescription for the first time in the United States, a milestone that could significantly expand access to contraception. The medication, called Opill, will become the most effective birth control method available over the counter

5. AIDS can be ended by 2030 with investments in prevention and treatment, UN says

It is possible to end AIDS by 2030 if countries demonstrate the political will to invest in prevention and treatment and adopt non-discriminatory laws, the United Nations said on Thursday.

In 2022, an estimated 39 million people around the world were living with HIV, according to UNAIDS, the United Nations AIDS program. HIV can progress to AIDS if left untreated.

6. Conjoined twins released from Texas Children’s Hospital after successfully separated in complex surgery

Conjoined twins are finally going home after the pair was safely separated during a complex surgery at Texas Children’s Hospital in June.

Ella Grace and Eliza Faith Fuller were in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) for over four months after their birth on March 1. A large team of healthcare workers took six hours to complete the surgery on June 14. Seven surgeons, four anesthesiologists, four surgical nurses and two surgical technicians assisted with the procedure.

7. From villains to valued: Canadians show overwhelming support for wolves

Despite their record in popular culture, according to a recent survey, seven in 10 Canadians say they have a “very positive” view of the iconic predators. 

Here's a fascinating video about how wolves changed Yellowstone nat'l park:

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Support this newsletter ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog.

[cityof2morrow]

WIP: Cubic Dynamics Kitbash Series

Published: 3-4-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Cubic Dynamics by John B. Cube and Marcel Dusims forged the future with furnishings that were minimalist in design and maximalist in erudite pretension. Generations later, the company continues to produce edge-of-cutting-edge designs. Cubic Dynamics Kitbash (Simmons, 2023-2024) will be a series of 80+ objects for offices, corporate, exhibitions, and business spaces. This collection works as an add-on to the Cubic Dynamics store set (EA/Maxis; archived at Garden of Shadows, 2016; 2015) and comes with multiple color options. This set is designed for kitbashing/modular builds and uses the repository technique (more info/resources HERE) and merged files for your convenience. DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. Most of the objects, including all required meshes, are 1-2 tiles and low-poly (less than 1000). There will be 15+ semi-high poly objects included (between 1100-2800 poly) but these won’t be required if you want to discard those from your saves. Offices shouldn’t just be pleasing to look at – there will be functional CC too! PREVIEW SHOTS

Mix and recolor items to create attractive reception, lobby, and entrance areas. The neon metal detectors are deco lights and the burglar alarm on the ceiling is functional/fully animated.

Seen above: I combined items to make a gift shop and customer service center.

Create cubicles, workstations, study rooms, and so much more!

Set up rooms for team meetings, crafting, hobbies, co-working, and other group activities. As you can see, the overall design is consistent with my taste for retro-futurist looks.

Why not whip up a few executives offices, corporate suites, conference rooms, and press auditoriums? Let your high-ranking office heads flex a lil' bit. TEST LOT I’m considering putting the test lot up for download. If that happens, you’ll likely need to download the entire series as well as 3-4 other sets on this site. On the other hand, I may strip the lot down to just items from this set and maxis defaults.

“LIVE” PREVIEW FOOTAGE @chocolatecitysim has been graciously testing the lot/items in her game for several months now, using it for her city’s government business. See live preview footage of this series in her Sims 2 Sunday Streams (via Twitch) HERE. CREDITS Thanks: @chocolatecitysim and @ranabluu for testing items in-game. Sims 2 Shenanigans and SimCrafters geniuses for much help, tutorials, advice, fixes, and resources along the way. Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik).

[antisocialmastermind]

Chapter 3

Day 3: IORHNRE= hornier, hire

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 (on Ao3)

Kurt wakes up hornier than usual. Apparently his ego has not seen fit to share last night’s humiliating memo with his dick. Or maybe he went to sleep with Elliott too much on his mind. Either way, he’s hungover, regretful, mortified, and apparently really needs to get laid. By someone other than Elliott. 

Who, annoyingly, seems completely unaffected by the whole awkward incident. 

Kurt stumbles into the kitchen to find his roommate singing into a spatula, shaking his ass, and plating his patented pancake breakfast sandwiches. 

“Oh my god, I think I love you,” Kurt mumbles, looking for the syrup, and Elliott looks up with a grin.

“But only platonically, right?”

Hungover Kurt is always a little vulnerable – the surface of his skin an exuberance of tesselating cracks that weaken his wit and self-confidence. He blinks and snaps, “Over it.” 

Elliott considers him for the briefest of seconds before he tosses a hash brown patty onto each plate and slides one plate across the counter. “Good,” he says. “Me, too. Eat some grease.” 

And that’s it.

They eat side-by-side at the counter as they usually do. Kurt does the dishes and makes a shopping list. Elliott’s near the window working charcoal into a canvas. He’s not satisfied with the play of light over Kurt’s cheekbones. He’s working from a photo, so Kurt’s presence isn't required.

Kurt takes advantage of Elliott’s deep concentration to look at him for too long, then slips into his room and closes the door. Lying on his bed, he thinks about last night, about the last eight months. He loves Elliott. He really does. But does he love him that way? Maybe he’s just missing a relationship in his life. It’s been a while, after all. 

He doesn’t cry. It hurts, but he doesn’t cry. That, more than anything, tells him he’ll get through this. 

****

They go to look at the gallery space in the afternoon. Elliott’s pace gets bouncier and quicker as they get closer, and even Kurt’s grinning like a loon by the time they step through the glass door into the cool, dim interior.

Elliott walks Kurt through the space, explaining how he’s hired someone to remove appliances and make the kitchen smaller. They’ll keep the refrigerator, one counter, and the industrial sink and dishwasher since they’ll be handy for artists’ receptions. That half of the kitchen will become the in-house studio. 

“The rest of the kitchen’s gonna be gutted and walled off,” Elliot explains. “Gives us more gallery space. And there are bathrooms of course, and an office already…” 

The office is little more than a closet with a desk and chair, but that’s all they’ll really need. The floor is a gorgeous tobacco wood, highly varnished, and the walls, Elliot says, will be white. 

“You need modular display panels,” Kurt declares as he turns a circle in the center of the large space. “Easier than repairing the walls every time the show changes, and it’ll give you much more surface area.”

“See?” Elliott grins, “This is why I need you. So much more than a pretty face.”

Kurt feels heat creep up his neck and over his face and turns to the window.

“Good natural light,” he continues, and mentally congratulates himself for not missing a beat. Elliott just says these things. He’s always been flirty, but he knows now and it’s just awkward for Kurt to ignore the elephant between them. But he does his best. “You’ll still need good fixtures. Cool light with the amount of contemporary work you’ll be showing. Rail lighting, maybe. In stainless steel, not black.”

Elliott grins again, but he doesn’t say anything, and Kurt breathes a tiny sigh of relief. He can do this.

****

He can’t do this.

How is he supposed to get some clarity and get over this when Elliott’s always just there? 

Kurt switches his night shift for a day shift on Thursdays, when Elliott DJs at The Duplex. He loses tips but gains an entire day where he doesn't see Elliott at all. He accepts Justin and Michael’s dinner invitation even though Elliott can’t make it. Sometimes he goes out with Chandler for drinks or to catch a movie – but he has to be careful there because he thinks maybe Chandler has a crush on him. And that’s not happening. 

He watches Elliott with their friends. He’s maybe extra flirty with Sebastian, but he’s most calm and down to earth with Kurt. He’s happy and flirty and genuine and wacky with everyone. That’s just who he is, and Kurt wouldn’t change him if he could. 

As weeks pass and the gallery opening gets closer, Kurt feels better. He’s still a little hung up, but he’s got some perspective now, and he’s about ready to move on. He’s also busy. So that helps.

He’s getting pieces ready to hang for the opening and he’s helping Elliott choose light fixtures and wine glasses and restroom decor. He’s at the restaurant six out of seven days. He’s doing this. He’s doing it.

****

It’s a Tuesday evening a few weeks out when Elliott pokes his head around Kurt’s bedroom door and says “Hey. Can I talk to you?”

Elliott sits Kurt down on the sofa looking serious and thoughtful. Kurt’s heart is jumping like a rabbit in his chest. 

“How involved do you want to be, Kurt?” Elliott asks softly.

Oh my god, this is it. He’s changed his mind. Kurt’s eyes flood instantly and his pulse, impossibly, quickens. He might vibrate off the couch and onto the floor.

“Um. What?” Kurt mumbles. 

“Well, I mean, do you just want to show your work? Do you want an attendant position? I can’t pay much just yet – it’ll mostly be me working there – but you’re hired if you want to be.” He smiles at Kurt. “Do you want to maybe think about buying in? Being my partner? What do you see yourself doing?”

Kurt almost laughs at the irony in Elliott’s words. He pretty much wants the fucking sofa to swallow him whole. It doesn’t. He smiles, a little shakily, and sighs. 

“For now,” he says, “I want to show. In the future, I’ll probably want more, but right now, I’m just. Not ready.”

“Okay,” Elliot replies. “Let me know when you are.”

“I definitely will,” Kurt says, clasping Elliott’s shoulder. 

He goes to bed. 

Chapter 4

[interiorergonomics]

Adaptive Furniture Solutions For Compact Spaces

Adaptive office furniture is a transformative approach to making compact spaces functional and stylish. With urban living spaces and home offices becoming smaller, the demand for flexible office furniture solutions escalates. All this is due to the need to maximize utility without overwhelming the room. In this case, adaptive furniture designs provide versatile, space-saving solutions which cover…

[wedreamedlove]

Hi! I wanted to ask about the sleeping habits of the four L&N guys (if this hasn't been answered before). I was looking at Evan's Illustration from the recent Dreamland event and It was so telling (but since I don't play I could be mislead about if this is his normal or not). I thought it was pretty sweet that he uses what it looks like a picture of the heroine as a placeholder for his book.

I also want to say I was looking at the tiny house layouts of Evan, Sariel and Osborn and I was thinking a lot about it (from a superficial perspective since again I don't play and don't know enough) but I really really loved Evan's design because is not crowded (you can see everything, there is nothing to hide... maybe this is bad, Sir you know what is a curtain?) and it has almost all the essentials: a kitchen to have dinner together and a bet to rest and I totally love the detail of how they used the dead space below the staircase to insert a complete bathroom (I want to believe there is a W.C. at the end of the space since you only have to sit so the height fits ok). I also like how there is access to the balcony that is also a tiny garden and there is another staircase with access to the roof to catch the direct sun. I love the modular design of the windows and is pretty much this type of European design done to catch the warm in places where there is not enough sunlight, so is just feels incredible cozy (but it will scorch you alive in a hot place since is a literal cristal box). All this theme with the hot air balloon gimme this feeling of "Living with the head in the clouds" and "Up there with the birds" and is very touching to me.

Osborn is literally living in a fish tank (or a shark tank? more likely), his layout only prioritized three things that was: The living room, his office space and his dinning room to share with you. His working space is full of personality since you can see his headphones, a record player and some vinyl records here and there (I really loved his picture where I could see he owns many Queen records and Daft Punk was there too and that gimme a chuckle, is this really him as a person?). What I don't like much is how that coral reef makes everything too crowded, is taking a lot of space! or is like this barrier is there to hide the view or to hide and protect something. I also think about ... he didn't used to have a phobia to water but he is still there jumping into the water? The guy is unhinged. Another funny thing is that his home don't have a roof (maybe because is going with this vibe of "shark tank" but I wouldn't mind dinning looking at the stars or the waves in this case).

Sariel's layoud only has three essential things: His living room, a big library-room/study-room and the amount of green around all the place. The library is so precious, I love how the natural light enters in this house. Bad thing is I find odd how tiny his living room is, the couch is so tiny, is just there in a corner lol. The other thing I don't like is the amount of dead space bellow the staircase, just look all that dead space! you could make something there, like make a extension to your library Sir. Is because of the placement of the stairs it makes everything weird, but ok??. We have green everywhere, we have a green-roof. I love how the plants here work giving a lot of shadow and that keeps the temperature nice and pleasant in the rooms, like walking under a road of trees in a hot day (I think this is the literal "Light and Night" layout lol there is a lot of the two). The plants here also act like a barrier to hide from the view but also make everything more cozy. Also this man doesn't eat???.

I want to see Jesse's house layout so bad hahaha. I was trying to dig for the illustrations of their homes to make a comparison but I don't know where I saw them (maybe a thread on twitter). I do remember Evan's manor was so dark lol (that is funny looking a how sunny and cozy is the other tiny house), from Osborn I remember his workplace, Sariel's one was so in line with his oriental style and Jesse's was so sunny and just like him.

first, thank you for such a long comment! i love hearing other people's thoughts, so this was a treat to read.

second, their house layouts in the dream series is interesting because we know what their actual homes look like with the artbook giving us a full illustration. i think their dream house reveal more of their subconscious and the elements they gravitate towards.

i completely agree with you about how cozy Evan's house looks and, funnily enough, everyone's first impression seems to be that it's quite spacious. there's nods to repeated themes for his character, like the warm colors for a sunset, all the teddy bears, and his birthday this year had a hot air balloon ride. i think the main theme for his dream house is supposed to be freedom because he's grown up in such restricting environments

i'm not going to lie, i like Osborn's dream house the least so far because i don't like the deep sea and, much like you, it feels crowded and almost claustrophobic because of the reefs and dark colors. haha, he really does like vinyl records and music, especially rock and roll! yup, he had a phobia of water (thanks to being tortured as a youth) but he forced himself to overcome his phobia and now he really enjoys the water. i'm not sure what theme they were going for his dream house other than giving a nod to his water themes.

i really like how Sariel's house blends the nature of the plants with the architecture. it's amusing that he has the library focus instead of Evan, but i suppose it also fits Sariel and his collection of knowledge (merely from existing for over 3000 years). his house also has a very spacious and freeing theme, but with more privacy because of the foliage that covers things. it just feels a lot like the design of this layout is "one with nature".

we'll probably see Jesse and Charlie's dream series in april, so it'll be here soon!

[solivar]

Ghost Stories On Route 66

Chapter Four

The UMN annex was four hoverbus transfers and one short stretch on the rapid pedestrian transit speedwalk which, this time at least, did not result in any form of grievous bodily harm, not even a bit of unscheduled nipple-surfing across the raked-stone-and-succulent-beds lawn at his point of exit. Given that his last trip out to the annex had resulted a) missing the exit, b) attempting to return to the exit by the expedient method of hopping over the lane separator, and c) being sent to the hospital via ambulance because having one foot going one direction and one foot going the other direction and each moving at roughly twice the average human walking speed was a recipe for tragedy, he considered this at least an unqualified success. In his own defence, the last time he traveled out to the annex was also his first, carrying Zenyatta’s forgotten lunch since he was the one who didn’t have any scheduled classes or studio time or anything resembling work that day, and had not expected what he found upon arrival. In the world of his childhood, buildings called “annexes” were either ancient, crumbling cinderblock-and-sheet-metal edifices that would probably exist until an earthquake strong enough to topple them came along  or else post-Crisis modular prefabs of recycled and poorly insulated plastics meant to be replaced by more permanent construction but which never seemed to rate high enough on anyone’s priority queue to quite get there.

This annex, by way of cruel and distracting contrast, was a Pueblo Deco Revival architectural masterwork purpose designed and built as a showcase piece for the style, as well as to house the off-campus professional enrichment classrooms and offices for the chosen few among the faculty. His research, conducted while he was spending six weeks with his left leg in a full immobilization brace, suggested that being assigned space there was generally the result of a member of the faculty either dying or moving on and the survivors engaging in the sort of academic heft/staff seniority knife fights only spoken of in shellshocked whispers by TAs and adjuncts who’d had the misfortune of witnessing them first hand. That Tekhartha Zenyatta, known by all for his thoroughgoing gentleness and fundamentally mild nature, occupied a prime chunk of that real estate suggested that his publish-or-perish game was thoroughly on point or he knew where a substantial number of bodies were buried and probably both. His office was a second-floor corner, not quite as desirable as some spaces, significantly more desirable than others, gifted with more than adequate storage and sitting space as well as enormous windows in two of the four walls and a view of the city and the mountains beyond that could genuinely be described as a vista.

Zenyatta was sitting at his desk, silhouetted against said vista, when Hanzo arrived, having missed him in the classroom by a double handful of minutes, and knocked on the frame of the open door. He looked up and never was the praying mantis resemblance more acute than when the westering sun caught the shaved curve of his skull and the highlights in his hazel eyes as he blinked a slow and vaguely astonished blink at the apparition that appeared before him. Hanzo held up a thermos. “I have soup.”

Zenyatta smiled and his eyes glinted with unconcealed humor. “And this time emergency services were not involved in the delivery. Come in, my friend.”

Hanzo stepped inside and closed the door behind him. By the time he turned around, Zenyatta had retrieved two bowls from the depths of his desk and shut down the holoscreens of its internal workstation. Hanzo sat, and poured, the soup still warm enough to steam, and a for a moment the sat together in companionable silence and drank.

“Ah.” Zenyatta finally said. “Grandmother Sumiko’s miso soup recipe. Never tell your brother this, but I am of the opinion that no one in the household makes it better than you.”

“You flatter me.” Hanzo replied, but couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face. “And I would never break my brother’s heart that way, I assure you.”

A warm chuckle. “I hope you do not mind me saying it, but you also have the look about you of a man who wishes to unburden himself without having to spend the next two hours talking his excitable, wildly overprotective little brother out of shipping him back to Japan tied up in a crate marked live cargo, do not taunt .”

“You...are not even a little bit wrong about that,” Hanzo admitted, and set his bowl down. “I -- “

He opened his mouth to speak, and for a long, long, horrifyingly long moment, absolutely nothing came out. Zenyatta’s pale silver brows, always startling against his dark skin, rose questioningly as he finished drinking his soup and set the bowl aside. Hanzo closed his mouth, breathed deeply, exhaled, breathed deeply again, and found words absolutely failing to emerge from his word-making hole despite the ardent desire burning beneath is breastbone to expel the tale of every weird-ass thing that had happened to him over the last four days, unpleasant, pleasant, and enjoyment-neutral. His throat worked fruitlessly with the effort to produce them, his brain chased itself in fully coherent narrative circles, but the only thing to emerge from his throat was a thin, wheezy whine not entirely unlike the pitiful utterance of a woodwind whose reed was so hopelessly saturated with saliva it was utterly incapable of effective vibration. With a wordless moan of despair, he collapsed against Zenyatta’s desk and buried his head in his arms.

“I have the sense,” Zenyatta said, gently, “that this is not something you have done very often. Or perhaps at all. Ever.”

Hanzo found he could not raise his head from his arms and so he lifted a hand in a complex gesture he hoped Zenyatta would interpret as agreement.

“Would it, perhaps, be easier for you if I asked questions?” Again, oh so very gentle.

“...Maybe?” From the depths of his defensive stronghold, Hanzo managed to force out a response.

“Very well.” Zenyatta’s tone became, if anything, even more serene. “I understand that you intended to visit Shiprock. Was it all that you expected it to be?”

“...Yes.” He very much wished, at that moment, to wax rhapsodic at length, to utter self-condemnatory words for never having visited sooner, despite having the time to do so more than once over the years, to describe how it was impossible to fully appreciate the place in all its stark beauty without standing in the cool of its shadow, and settled for croaking into the crook of his arm, “I’ll show you the pictures when we get home.”

“Hanzo, my friend, are you comfortable with this? We can stop if -- “

“No,” Hanzo muttered, lifting his head enough to catch a glimpse of Zenyatta looking down at him, naked concern on his face. “No -- I wish to continue. Please.”

“As you wish.” Zenyatta leaned slightly closer, his hands folding together atop his desk in a fashion Hanzo was inclined to call mudra-ish. “I also understand that you intended to visit the Omnic graveyard in that area, as well. May I ask why? The two goals seem entirely divergent from one another.”

“Part of my Visual Thesis.” Hanzo admitted to the surface of Zenyatta’s desk. “A...comparison and contrast between natural forms of desolation -- the desert, particularly now that winter is approaching -- and the wreckage left behind by the collapse of modern civilization, the towns abandoned during the Crisis and never reoccupied, the scars left behind by hubris and war. I thought the graveyard, and the town closest to it, which was also called Shiprock, would make a striking example.”

“I tend to agree.” A little smile touched the corners of Zenyatta’s mouth. “I would very much enjoy seeing those photographs, I think, and to visit the your thesis exhibition next spring.”

“Iwillmakecertainmyadvisorhasyouonthelist.” He could feel all the blood evacuating his extremities and heading directly to his face and so he positioned his otherwise useless hands to hide it as much as possible. “The whole experience left me feeling...melancholy. There was -- there is -- an intrinsic sadness to the whole thing, even now, thinking of how much death and destruction could have been avoided, how much more could have been done in the aftermath, the appalling waste of it all.”

And now was the weird part. Where the emphatically Not Normal stuff began. He could feel the urge to beg Zenyatta’s forgiveness for wasting his time welling up in his throat and the even stronger urge to stand up and flee even if it meant risking death or dismemberment on a snow-slicked speedwalk taking up residence in his legs, pleading with him to retreat from what was certain to be a scene of pure humiliation. You should really spare your brother’s boyfriend the necessity of calling the hospital and having you admitted for psychiatric evaluation -- that’s the sort of thing that can put a strain on even the best relationships, a little voice that seemed to partake of rationality murmured in the back of his mind, seduction spiked with reproach because, really, what kind of asshole would do that to Zenyatta? He absolutely did not have to be forced to make that sort of judgment call and --

“And then where did you go?” Zenyatta’s voice, warm and smooth as oil, poured through the cracks in his internal monologue and caused how now-slippery thoughts to skid away like an unsteady but enthusiastic two year old on a particularly lubricious skating rink.

“Cerrillos,” Hanzo blurted out, before the voice of rationality could reassert itself. “Well -- eventually. This is where things become...strange. Very, very strange. I would humbly ask that you listen first and then, if you think me thoroughly irrational afterwards, we can discuss...options?”

Zenyatta’s hands lifted away from the table and took on a second, even more mudraish posture just below his chin. “Agreed. Though I should also tell you that, having lived and worked here for a number of years my standards for strange are quite liberal.”

“My car’s GPS began malfunctioning even before I left the vicinity of the graveyard -- I believe I was technically still within Shiprock town limits.” He retrieved the second thermos and jiggled it gently; Zenyatta brought out two tea bowls this time, and he poured for them both. A few sips and he was fortified to continue. “It refused to hold the route I indicated. I had to reset it several times and it misdirected me all over the hills until I reached what used to be Route 14, where it showed me a course back to Santa Fe from the south. The car itself was sputtering for miles and it finally died completely just after I made that turn.”

“I have heard of this sort of thing before from both students and colleagues.” Zenyatta informed him, meditatively. “Global positioning devices frankly refusing to function properly in certain regions south of the city, that is. The theories I have heard in relation to why this may be tend to extremes to say the least.”

“Oh?” Hanzo asked, somewhat more warily than he liked.

A certain mischievous sparkle came into Zenyatta’s eyes. “The most reasonable suggest some form of localized, persistent geomagnetic disturbance in the Earth’s atmosphere, though how such a thing could both exist and completely defy conventional forms of detection is a debate all by itself. Some of the others...well. Roswell is only two hundred miles away, and well within the observed radius of GPS disturbances.”

“Roswell?” Hanzo asked, blankly this time.

The mischievous sparkle was now a mischievous gleam . “Aliens, my friend. Visitors from another world. One of my students is involved in the production of a journal of amateur UFOlogy and swears with a great deal of passionate conviction that the United States government has been covering up the existence of extraterrestrial life since a vehicle not of this world crashed in Roswell in the late 1940s.”

“I...believe I read about that at some point.” Hanzo leaned back in his chair. “A crashed weather balloon?”

“A crashed nuclear test observation balloon that spawned thousands of conspiracy theories, some of them more plausible than others.” He shook his head slightly. “But I agreed to listen first. Please...continue.”

“Yes. Uhm.” And now came the Really Incredibly Strange Parts and before his rational mind could start whispering helpful advice, he pushed himself all the way up into a normal sitting position, gripped the armrests of his chair and said, “I think there were coyotes. Actual real, living coyotes. At least one. When the car died, it was almost dark -- the road I was on barely existed on the GPS and from what I could see it wasn’t traveled regularly at all. My cell had no reception, not even the emergency contact signal. I knew that waiting wasn’t really an option, so I gathered my things and began walking north along Route 14. I saw their eyes from a distance at the edge of my light and for at least a few hours, I was convinced I was going to be eaten.”

A smile curled Zenyatta’s mouth, but he mercifully said nothing.

“I reached Cerrillos -- I want to say near midnight? I lost track of time while I was walking. It was cold, I was exhausted, and at first I didn’t realize I was looking at real lights, an occupied building. The ranger’s...station, I should probably say, but it was more like just a house? I think he’s lived there a long time, is what I’m saying. He took me in and I sort of passed out on his couch and the next morning he gave me breakfast and can I just say that if you and he got into a gently soothing smile contest, I am legitimately unsure who would win? He’s just so -- “ Hanzo’s hands, he realized with dawning horror, had released their grip on the armrests through no conscious direction of his own and started talking for themselves; he hastily stuffed them under his thighs. “ Anyway , the next day he took me to my car to see if anything could be done for it and there was...something...more than one something...not a coyote...lurking around it. Nearby. We heard them first -- they howled, like a pack of animals communicating with one another.” He found he could recall that hideous, unearthly sound with horripilating intensity, a shudder running the length of his body as he did so, and Zenyatta’s sympathetic listening face took on a hint of genuine alarm. “Jesse -- that’s the ranger’s name, Jesse McCree -- told me to get back into our vehicle and as we were driving away there was something else , something louder and closer and I --”

The sensation that gripped him now was less a shudder than a convulsion as, for an instant, he nearly remembered what he saw -- the outline, the contour, the texture, the stomach-churning awareness that none of those things were born of any sane world, or even the one they both now occupied, and he deeply regretted everything he’d eaten thus far that day. He clamped his jaw and his eyes shut and swallowed hard and, as he did so, a pair of warm hands cradled his face. At a vast distance, he heard Zenyatta saying his name. With an almost superhuman effort, he forced his eyes to open and ground out, “I saw it. Something unnatural. It saw me, too, and it tried -- “

“It tried to devour your soul.” Zenyatta finished it for him.

“How -- ?” Hanzo croaked, not quite certain how many possible permutations of that question he actually meant, but he knew it was more than one.

“Did I know?” The kindly smile had a slightly sad tinge to it. “I sensed the change in you when you returned home last night, but I wasn’t certain how or when to approach you about it. Your spirit has always been wounded, for as long as I have known you, but this is...more. Not so deep nor so old but more immediately serious. Your soul was severed from your flesh?”

“Yes,” Hanzo croaked again, his stomach still seriously considering rebellion and his mind now beginning to get in on the uncivilized revolution action. “ How -- ?”

“The ranger saved you? He must have, he was the only one close enough to do so. How...unusual.” Zenyatta’s eyes gleamed again, almost with a light of their own, golden welling up from beneath gray and green. “And he protects you still. I can see his aegis wrapped around you like a cloak of crimson and gold, holding you while you heal, hiding you from...the thing that saw you.”

“Really?” It came out sounding horribly, pathetically needy and he tried to cringe away, but Zenyatta refused to relinquish his hold.

“Yes.” The smile that curved his lips held more than a trace of impishness; Hanzo found that bizarrely comforting. “I would like to meet this ranger of yours. Other professional craftworkers are so hard to find outside the specialized academic sphere, and those assholes would never dirty their hands with actually rescuing someone.”

“I’d like to see him again too,” It was nothing more or less than utter honesty and it fell out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Excellent. We shall have to make a day of it.” Gently. “Can you stand? Walk?”

Hanzo tested his legs and found his knees wobbly but not so much he wouldn’t risk getting out of the chair. “I think?”

“Good, because I am not certain I could carry you.” Zenyatta leaned back, resting on the edge of his desk. “I realize this has been several sorts of shock to you, my friend. I will do what I can to help ameliorate that, and assist in your recovery however I am able.”

“He gave me a medicine. A kind of tea? It’s supposed to help.” Hanzo took a deep breath, forced his racing thoughts to slow, and then to organize themselves into at least one coherent utterance. “Professional craftworkers?”

“A term of relatively modern provenance, I must admit.” Zenyatta reached out and grasped his hand gently. “I understand that you were, in essence, studying to be part of our kindred order once.”

Hanzo swallowed with some difficulty, his own grip involuntarily tightening. “ Oh. ”

“Yes.” He glanced out the western window at the sunset beginning to blossom in scarlet glory over the city. “We should go home -- it’s my night to cook, after all. If it is not objectionable to you, I would like to examine the medicine you were given?”

“Of course.” Hanzo replied, numbly, feeling as he did so the ache of that older wound again, for the first time in ages. “Genji. Did he...did he tell you what…”

“No.” Zenyatta’s smile softened into something close to sorrow again. “Only that you left your path for reasons of your own. We may discuss that also, if you wish.”

“No.” It came out more curtly than he wished and he squeezed Zenyatta’s hand in apology. “No -- I...do not wish to...visit that again. Not right now.” Never , whispered that silent ache, and he pushed himself slowly to his feet. “I...would like to be home before dark, if we could.”

“Of course.”

*

The best part about Zenyatta cooking was that Zenyatta actually cooked . Rather than engaging in a forty-odd-minute long debate among five individuals with wildly divergent tastes that would end in an obscenely expensive take-out order, he very simply ignored the divergent tastes and made something that everyone would invariably sit down to eat and subsequently enjoy. Hanzo himself hadn’t quite mastered that art but considered himself learning at the knee of the master every time he was asked to assist and thus he had no objection to being handed a knife and a cutting board almost as soon as they arrived home. He sat and cut carrots into rounds while Zenyatta retrieved the containers of marinating chicken (for the meat-eaters) and marinating tofu (for the non-meat-eaters) from the refrigerator and set them out to reach room temperature; he chopped garlic and minced fresh ginger while Zenyatta toasted a few handfuls of shelled peanuts and set them aside to cool; he diced onion while Zenyatta heated the oil in both their large skillets and added aromatic spices that perfumed the air. The tension bled from him as they worked, Zenyatta adding half the onion to each pan, and he rose to do what dishes he could as basmati rice and water went into the cooker. Moment by moment the soothing rituals of the kitchen worked their magic on him and he found the words flowing out.

“There was something else -- something I didn’t tell you at the office. Once when I was at the ranger’s house and when I returned home last night, I...traveled outside my body.” Saying it aloud had the effect of solidifying the reality of it in his own mind and silencing the almost-continuous mutters of reason in the back of his skull that were advocating voluntarily committing himself. “Well. All right. I know I did it at the ranger’s house. Last night might have been an extraordinarily vivid and detailed dream, but I doubt it sincerely.”

Zenyatta carefully added the chicken and its marinade to one of the pans and gave it a few quick stirs. “That does not entirely surprise me. Your soul’s attachment to its flesh is attenuated at the moment, likely moreso when you sleep.”

“The ranger suggested as much -- the medicine is supposed to help with that, I think. It made me so tired when I took it last night I barely made it up the stairs.” He accepted the container Zenyatta handed to him and made it clean. “I...may have witnessed a conversation I probably should not have heard.”

“Oh?” Zenyatta glanced at him, sidelong, and repeated his process with the second container, tone and manner perfectly neutral.

“When I was...sleepwalking...last night. Possibly this morning. Maybe both? Anyway, ” Hanzo scrubbed savagely at the second container for a moment, “I went back to his house -- I am not entirely certain why -- but I felt as though I woke there, on the couch. His parents were waiting for him, but they did not seem to be aware of my presence, and when he returned home he was not aware of it, either. They discussed a number of topics that were somewhat outside my realm of experience -- things I would appreciate your assistance in researching, if you would be amenable to doing so?”

“Of course. I have always been of the opinion that ignorance is not an outstandingly effective shield.” The very faintest hint of a smile as he added rice and carrots and ginger and peanuts to a third pan. “Particularly when dealing with the naturally curious artistic types. Would you mind setting the table and summoning the others? We’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes.”

Everyone in the house had their favorite plate, glass, set of silverware, and chair, no single piece of it matching any other piece, reflective of the fact that they all brought at least a handful of household goods when they moved in together. The blender/food processor belonged to Hana -- she used it to produce gallons of fruity homemade energy smoothies containing approximately four times the amount of caffeine permitted in commercially salable beverages which she fed to the rest of the game design faculty and students on a fairly regular basis, particularly in the vicinity of midterms and finals. In fact, her entire friendship with Genji came about as a result of his raging addiction to the Random Mystery Fruit variety of the same and his invitation to move in with them in order to shorten the supply chain. Lucio brought the living room sound system, which replaced the fairly dinky speakers that came with their holotank and turned the entire room into a nearly hallucinatory sensory experience when it was running full-tilt, a circumstance usually reserved for family game nights and movie marathon weekends when the nearest neighbors were away, because otherwise someone would be forced to continue the ongoing battle of the passive-aggressive complaints to their landlord, who had absolutely no fucks to give so long as they paid the rent on time and didn’t actually violate any local sound-related ordinances. From childhood on, Genji had owned every game system known to man and some that were entirely experimental products of the family’s active immersion entertainment products division -- he’d bought them all again, once he’d come to the United States, and still received regular care packages from AIE of tech and games that needed thorough testing. Zenyatta had actually brought the majority of the common-use furniture, including the kitchen table and chairs and the living room set, all of which had a rather distinct character of their own, and that character was probably the offspring of an aromatherapist, a medical cannabis dispensary, and a polyamorous hippie commune.

Hanzo supplied the pots and pans, because man in general and he in specific couldn’t live on delivery alone.

The sounds drifting down the stairs told him the rest of the household was, indeed, home and also that merely calling up to them was unlikely to jar them from their pursuits. Instead, he found his tablet, queued up the standard dinner summons, and deployed it. Within seconds, the dulcet tones precision sound-engineered to resemble a composite of literally all their mothers echoed through the house. “ Make yourselves presentable, you heathens, there’s food on the table!”

Then he went back into the kitchen to help Zenyatta transfer dinner from the stove to the table and set out everyone’s favorite drinks.

“I still don’t think our mother would use the word ‘heathens,’” Genji informed him, accepting the glass of lemonade Hanzo handed to him.

“No, but she certainly would have demanded that we make ourselves presentable.” Hanzo replied, pouring his way around the table to his own seat.

“Heathens is the least thing my mother would call this group.” Lucio leaned against the kitchen doorframe, looking for all the world as though it were the only thing holding him up. “But I’m pretty sure she’d mean it as a compliment.”

“What happened to you?” Hanzo asked, appalled, before his better judgment or self-preservation instincts could successfully intervene.

“I’m pretty sure your story’s more interesting than mine when it comes to that.” Lucio grinned, tired but puckish, and came to the table. “Sorry I missed you when you got back home yesterday, Hanzo -- I’ve been pulling double duty on this group project that’s due in a couple weeks. The classmate I was supposed to partner with went home to visit her folks in Amarillo last month and then dropped off the face of the Earth. Didn’t come back, didn’t withdraw, didn’t answer calls or email or anything. The prof only just gave us leave to reallocate her part of the project last week.”

“Oh, man, that sucks. Wait. Wasn’t your partner Cora Hernandez?” Hana materialized in her chair between one moment and the next. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this but...a member of my project team does her work study in the campus security office and her parents have been calling almost non-stop. Texas State PD, too. Apparently she never actually made it back home -- they found her car somewhere south of here, way south, like way into the coyotes-and-batshit-survivalists territory. No offense to your new boyfriend, Hanzo.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Hanzo replied, reflexively, even as all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “And he’s also not a batshit survivalist so your apology is doubly unnecessary. Do you know where, exactly, her car was found?”

“I wanna say, like, near Alamogordo? South. ” Hana shook her head. “I feel bad for her family, no matter what.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”

“Morbid curiosity,” Hanzo replied and took his seat, thoughts racing.

Alamogordo was significantly further south, he knew that much, well inside the territory that had been depopulated by evacuation and violence during the Omnic Crisis and never fully rehabilitated for any number of reasons, most of them pragmatically economic in nature. He wished that he dared pull out his tablet at the table and start consulting maps but that would have led to any number of awkward questions that he really did not want to answer at that moment, not with Genji already giving him the iridescently brilliant suspicious side-eye and Zenyatta regarding him with only barely disguised concern. He smiled comfortingly at them both, fooled neither, and attended to dinner and the lighter conversation that followed as best he could, with his mind running in a rapidly expanding series of concentric circles that kept coming back to someone else from my school VANISHED COMPLETELY INTO THE DESERT in the last month and is this the sort of thing I should tell Jesse about or am I actually such a complete asshole that I would use the disappearance of an innocent woman as an excuse to call my crush? INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

It was, according to the household chores schedule, his night to do dishes but, since he helped make dinner, Zenyatta waved him off and instead snared Genji in seductive toils of help-me-and-we-can-make-out-against-the-counter, from which they all fled in various degrees of trauma. Well, okay, he was traumatized, because no amount of walking on Genji engaged in libidinous acts with a succession of attractive partners while they were both still teenagers had successfully immunized him against the horror of seeing his baby brother suck face with anyone, ever. On the other hand, Zenyatta’s heroic sacrifice allowed him the time to book it upstairs, get in his room, lock the door, brace his desk chair under the doorknob, and begin Researching before Genji could unload any degree of Distracting Brotherly Concern in his direction.

Cora Hernandez was, in fact, officially missing -- her family was offering a substantial reward for information on her whereabouts, the state police and highway patrol in New Mexico were actively searching for leads and requesting the assistance of the public. The pictures provided displayed a lovely young woman with a perfectly heart-shaped face, enormous dark eyes, and a sweet smile, who wore her long, straight black hair in a braid or a ponytail. She was an undergraduate student at the University of Art and Design, a fact that jolted him sharply, and the last time anyone saw her was the afternoon of September 11th when she said goodbye to her roommate and set out for home to attend her mother’s birthday celebration that weekend. Her car was found October 3rd in the parking lot of the Lincoln National Forest Visitor Center by a ranger occupying one of the park’s still-manned structures and who reported the discovery to the state police.

So -- almost, in fact, to Alamogordo, one of the modern ghost towns, ghost cities in this case, left behind by the Omnic Crisis, evacuated and never formally reincorporated afterwards as the course of economic redevelopment trended steadily away. People still lived there, of course, individuals and families that trickled back after the war was over despite the formal aprobrium of governments state, local, and Federal, a refusal to restore basic services, and a rather dim view of the returnees’ stubborn refusal just to accept a generous buyout offer for their property and go elsewhere. The returnees were fortunate inasmuch as most of what they’d left behind was still there when they went back for it -- much of Albuquerque had been reduced to rubble and the ruins were a regularly patrolled no-go zone -- and what they couldn’t grow, manufacture, scavenge, or cobble together for themselves, they could trade for with the residents of the Mescalero Apache Reservation just to the north and El Paso to the south. It had been more than thirty years and both the state and Federal governments tended in the direction of ignoring those largely self-sufficient little communities unless a crime was committed that led directly toward them, at which point the authorities would land on the tight-knit family enclaves or scattered individual homesteads with both feet, roust everyone out, and occasionally level everything to the ground. Otherwise, they were permitted to exist largely unmolested thanks very much to a carefully cultivated reputation as batshit survivalists who shot first and asked questions later.

The residents of the unincorporated freehold of Alamogordo had, therefore, made a significant show of assisting in the search for Cora Hernandez once her car was found, as had the Mescalero Apache Tribal Council, though thus far no trace of her had turned up. Her purse, containing her credit cards and student identification, was still in the car, clearly visible on the passenger seat. The car itself had been towed back to Santa Fe and impounded, but a forensic examination had revealed no signs of a struggle or any other sort of foul play, the only prints on the steering wheel, interior, and exterior surfaces being hers. It took six articles on the topic to uncover the fact that the vehicle’s electrical system was dead when it was found, primary and secondary antigrav batteries drained dry, navigation system fried crispy. Much more obvious: that the local residents interviewed had their doubts that she would be found at all, much less alive, with all the requisite “it’s wild territory” and “the weather at this time of year works against us” and, at least to his admittedly biased ear, a certain amount of subliminal “she was probably eaten by a monster from beyond reality, I feel so badly for her mother right now.” Okay, he was probably imagining that but...she had driven a full two hundred miles in a direction, if not precisely opposite her destination, close enough to opposite for the decimal places not to matter. He knew that feeling disturbingly well.

The fact that the car was found by a ranger in all likelihood meant Jesse already knew more about the situation than he, as an uninvolved civilian, could ever possibly uncover and he came to peace with the notion that he was exactly the sort of asshole who’d use this situation as an excuse to call his crush.

Instead of calling, or writing because writing would entail looking at his email which would naturally devolve into responding to email because his goddamned sense of responsibility demanded it, he opened up GeoMaps, his phone’s internal GPS functions, and began the process of tracing his own route as best he could. For a moment, after he interfaced the two and watched the route construct itself according to the GPS’ cache, he thought the data must have been corrupted somehow -- nothing about the contorted cat’s cradle of the return trip made sense. He did not recall making even half the turns his phone insisted he made, switchbacking across barely marked roads in the hills and desert above Route 40 and the Albuquerque Exclusion Zone as though his vehicle were iron filings being dragged back and forth between two magnets before finally coming to a halt just south of Cerrillos, where it finally broke down. On impulse, he manually added a second set of variables: Santa Fe to Alamogordo and asked the program to calculate the most direct route. It was, pragmatically speaking, almost a straight line, one that bypassed Cerrillos to the east, provided that Cora Hernandez had lost her way immediately upon leaving the city -- which was not necessarily the case. The courses as logically plotted did not intersect but he saved the map, anyway, for reference purposes at the very least, and shut down the program.

He was slightly startled to see that it was after ten -- no one had come knocking after dinner chores were done and he had lost track of time completely, he’d forgotten that he was going to show Zenyatta the pictures from his trip, and now he felt like a total ass hat as well as an ass hole. And he had also managed to not pay a single bit of attention to any aspect of his real life that would have an immediate impact on his future, a fact underscored by the number of urgent!red!exclamation!points! in his mailbox once he finally glanced at it. Admittedly, most of them were from one person -- his thesis advisor -- and given Dr. Saddind-Maas had the tendency to send eight emails where two would do and considered everything equally urgent, the odds were pretty good that they were mostly sympathy. Except for the one about making certain he cancelled his studio space reservation if he wasn’t going to use it (he was, he had to, being sent back to his ordinary life for his own protection wouldn’t matter much if he never did anything normal again) and reminding him of their scheduled meeting on Friday. He found his alarm clock in the waste basket -- he had a vague memory of doing it violence and was pleased to discover that it hadn’t been mortally wounded when he pulled it out of the wall. He reset the time and the alarm and, just to be safe, he set a secondary alarm on his phone and set it on his dresser, out of easy reach in the event of another strange night that ended in throwing things.

Hana was asleep on the living room couch with a controller still in hand when he went downstairs which meant, among other things, that she was probably out of energy drink ingredients and he made a note on his tablet to ask her what she needed. He also tucked a throw blanket around her that smelled rather noticeably of patchouli and lavender, put the controller back on the charging dock, turned off the holotank, and made sure the front door was locked and the security system armed. Someone had already refilled the teakettle and so he simply turned on the heat beneath it, dug the little tea-for-one set he’d gotten on a whim and never really used out of the cabinet, and fetched the medicine box, now with a yellow post-it sticky attached.

A whole teaspoon may be slightly too much for your weight. Try one half and if you have another out of body experience tonight, let me know. We may need to consult the herbalist for alternative dosing or blends. - Z.

Hanzo paused, closed his eyes, reminded himself firmly that tomorrow was going to be a completely fucking normal day , measured a half-teaspoon of the tea, set the egg timer for three minutes, and allowed it to steep for exactly that long. One spoonful of honey. Stirred. Drank. Swore at himself because he’d gotten out the tea-for-one thing so he could take it upstairs and drink it there, a fact he had totally forgotten between one minute and the next. Piled all the tea things in the sink to wash in the morning. The somnolent tug of the medicine seemed less intense than it had, which only made sense, and he made it back to his room before his limbs started to feel even the slightest trace of heaviness, and made it into his pyjamas before his head got into the act. Sleep closed its arms around him almost before his head touched the pillow.

*

The alarm went off at 5:45 am and, this time, Hanzo reached over and thumbed it off, sat up, stretched, turned on his bedside lamp, and screamed.

The silence afterward was fragile and broken by a shout from the floor below. “ Hanzo! ”

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard footsteps -- more than one set of footsteps -- on the stairs, and someone knocking on his door. “Hanzo? Are you okay?”

Lucio, who shared the third floor with him, of course got there first. He wanted to say something, but the words were caught in his throat, and before he could force them out, the door flew open and Genji, Zenyatta, and Lucio all poured inside, Hana bringing up the rear with one of Lucio’s hockey sticks in hand.

“ Aniki, ” Genji crawled onto the bed next to him, back plastered against the wall, and grabbed his shoulder. “Are you -- “

“Oh, holy -- what is that? ” Lucio sounded nearly as appalled as Hanzo felt; Genji turned and looked and his grip tightened nearly to the point of pain.

Hanzo’s room was longer than it was wide, having once been something closer to a storage space than a living one, and he had structed it accordingly. His desk sat just beneath the single window at the far end, with the large standing cabinet he used to store his art supplies and the hanging folders for his assorted portfolios next to it. His bedside table and bed were set hard against the north wall and he usually ended up sleeping with his back against it for reasons he could not quite explain even to himself. Under ordinary circumstances, the inexpensive Swedish prefab chest of drawers that served to store his clothing in lieu of an actual closet sat directly opposite, with a lane between them. At the moment, it was pushed flush with his desk, the supplies closet sat both askew on its base and open, and the open space of previously eggshell white wall between was covered with what happened when sensitive artistic types lost their fucking minds and started finger painting the contents of their damaged psyches all over the real estate. Clearly, obviously fingerpainting because the paint in question was lodged under his nails, dried all over his skin to the elbow, the sheets, the blankets, and his mind was absolutely refusing to focus for longer than a second or two on what he’d drawn, the hideous contorted mass of it stretched across all of the wall and part of the ceiling, and he absolutely could not imagine how he’d managed some of that texture work with undiluted tube watercolors. Or maybe he had diluted them somehow, though he didn’t want to think too deeply on the mechanics of that, either, and Genji was whispering fiercely in his ear in Japanese, Zenyatta was talking quietly with Hana and Lucio, and, from downstairs, the doorbell rang.

“Someone should get that,” Hanzo whispered, and let his head fall back against the wall behind him.

“...I’ll get it.” Hana, unlike the rest of them, was in actual clothes and at least nominally armed; she descended the stairs sounding very much as though she expected to have to use that hockey stick for activities man never intended.

“Hanzo, please.” Genji’s voice was tight with fear. “ What happened? ”

“I don’t know?” Hanzo replied, helplessly. His eyes felt as though they’d been popped out of his skull, rolled in a combination of gravel and tiny slivers of glass, then shoved back in without any particular care for proper orientation; his arms and shoulders and upper back ached as though he’d been exercising unceasingly for hours; he felt, between the ears, more completely and utterly rested than he’d felt in days but the last thing he remembered was falling face-first into his pillow, curling into his mattress. “I...did this, I must have done this but I don’t -- I can’t remember -- I -- “

“I am not certain this is an improvement over involuntary astral projection.” Zenyatta muttered, casting a glance at the wall, a little shudder traveling all the way down his long body; Hanzo found his unease weirdly, perversely comforting.

“ What? ” Lucio and Genji asked, more or less simultaneously.

Hanzo glanced a question at Zenyatta, who shook his head slightly. “It’s...Okay. The trip out to the desert was really, really -- I didn’t want to tell you right away because I knew you’d freak out -- “

“I fucking knew you didn’t just break down.” Genji growled at him. “For fuck’s sake, Hanzo, there is literally nothing you can’t tell me. ”

Hanzo took a deep, calming breath and released it. “The car actually did break down. I was also...attacked...sort of...by something that looked...a little like that. ” He nodded in the direction of the wall. “It yanked my soul out of my body and was probably trying to eat it. The ranger saved me and put my soul back where it should be and sent me home with some kind of protection around me and medicine to help me recover but I traveled out of my body the night before last and now….” He gestured at the wall again. “ Yeah .”

The complex series of expressions that crossed Genji’s face at this recitation was a terrible wonder to behold. “Explain to me, using small words and diagrams, why the fuck you shouldn’t be on a plane back to Japan right now?”

“Because I would rather die than go back and you, my loving brother, know that?” Hanzo replied sweetly.

“That’s actually a pretty good reason, Gen.” Lucio pointed out with what Hanzo considered fairly admirable calm, given the circumstances.

“You’re taking this well,” Hanzo remarked, ignoring his brother’s sputtered objections to both their statements.

“Man, I’ve been playing the music scene in this city for years. ” Lucio shook his head. “You hear some stuff. Get far enough beyond the city limits and you see some stuff. Weird-ass stuff. Also, Zen and Gen and I have kinda had some mutual hallucinatory experiences together and -- “

“Annnnnnnnnnd all right we will solve this problem right here and leave the family out of it . ” Genji gesticulated in an extremely undignified manner and Hanzo found himself swallowing a slightly hysterical laugh and swallowing slightly more when his brother turned back to him, eyes unnaturally bright. “ You almost died. ”

Hanzo closed his eyes. “I’m -- “

“If you say ‘I’m fine,’ you’re going to force me to point at that wall. As a matter of fact, let’s -- “

Hanzo’s phone rang, the sound distinctly muffled by its position face-down underneath the clothes chest. All four of them went for it simultaneously; Zenyatta won, by virtue of having the longest arms, and handed it to him.

The call was from Hana. “...Hello?”

“Uhm.” Hana sounded either deeply traumatized or deeply amused and possibly both. “Your rental car’s back.” Her voice dropped. “I maaaaaaaaaaay have mentioned that something weird’s going on and the, uh, mechanic down here asked to talk to you. I’m turning on video chat -- “

Hanzo pulled the phone away from his ear, Genji and Lucio both gathering close as he did so, the images on the screen a jumble as she handed the phone to someone else. In the wan light of morning, Hanzo received the impression of an almost comically long face, a maniacally cheerful grin, and hair that gave the impression of being just slightly on fire. “Good mornin’, Mr. Shimada. You are -- “ the image blurred again and the newcomer came up with a piece of lined paper, much crumpled. “Hanzo Shimada, right?”

“I am.” Hanzo replied, feeling the world tilting ever so slightly sideways.

“Oh, good. Good. I got the keys to your car down here -- everything oughta be in order, right down to the new car smell, rental agency won’t be able to tell the difference, on my honor.” He practically twinkled with good cheer so infectious it pulled an involuntary smile onto Hanzo’s face. “Now, the chippie -- “

“ Hey!” Hana snapped, somewhere off camera.

“Sorry, chippie, but I didn’t catch your name.” He sounded legitimately contrite. “ Anyway , yer friend told me something’s pear-shaped upstairs. Can I take a look at it?”

“You -- you’re -- “ Hanzo took a deep, calming breath, forced his thoughts to settle, and asked, “You’re a...craftworker?”

“Of a kind. C’mon, lemme see. If nothing else I can tell you if -- “

Before Hanzo could think better of it, he flipped the camera view around and aimed it at the wall.

“--YEAH, OKAY, THAT’S -- YES, THANK YOU. WARN A MAN NEXT TIME, WOULDJA?”

He flipped the camera around again. “My apologies.”

The newcomer was blinking as though he were trying to banish a particularly unpleasant afterimage. “S’all right but --trust me when I tell ya that’s not summat you wanna mess with on your own, okay? In fact, you should probably all get outta there and, uh, maybe burn it down?”

“It’s a rental.” Hanzo replied, reflexively, and felt his world tilt a few more degrees.

“Then call Jess and let him burn it down, I’m pretty sure he could get it smoothed over all official and governmental and such. Oh. And I’m s’posed to tell you that you’re not to worry about a bill or anything, because it’s covered.” That long face rearranged itself into an actually worried look. “But, seriously, call Jess as soon as you can and get outta there in the meantime. For your own safety, mate, trust me.”

“I will do that. Thank you, Mister…?”

“Fawkes. Jamie Fawkes. The chippie -- OW -- your friend down here has my card. For all your mechanical needs.” He ended the call before Hanzo could say anything else.

“Jess?” Genji asked, evenly.

“The ranger.” Hanzo replied, wishing he had it in him to push the world back into alignment by sheer force of will. “His name is Jesse. Jesse McCree.”

“Craftworker?” Lucio asked, perplexed.

“That explanation is far longer.” Zenyatta interjected. “And considerably more complicated. In any case...I suggest we take Mr. Fawkes’ advice and -- “

“Burn down the house?” Hana asked from the door, hockey stick still slung over her shoulder. “I really need to know how you met that guy. Those guys. There were two. A big guy and an even bigger guy. Explanations for a lot of things are totally in order here, is what I’m saying.”

“-- I was about to suggest that we all get dressed and go for breakfast.” Zenyatta continued peacefully. “And contact the ranger.”

Hanzo allowed his head to thud back against the wall again. “And to think I expected today to be normal. ”

[kayzero]

Rhizomes, A Brief History (Part 1)

spoilers for zero escape: virtue’s last reward under the cut

So the basic premise of the Rhizome that I’m working with assumes that the Moon is a planetoid without a molten core, and that it’s because of its shape rather than its size that enables it to orbit the Earth. The science then assumes that there’s a weight variance of about 10-15% going either way before it starts to negatively affect the Earth.

So, keeping the shape in mind, what the engineers did is they designed the Rhizome to be built modularly but underground so that there wouldn’t be any giant structures throwing off the Moon’s orbit. And what the constructors did to help is get the approximate weight of a cubic meter of Moon rock (by having the astronauts bring the rock down to earth), and then create construction materials that were built solid while weighing about as much as the amount of moon rock they would replace.

The ease of modular building enabled the inhabitants of the Rhizome project to build their own living space with minimal assistance from construction crews. This enabled the UN to hire workers and pay them a retainer to live onsite and work the plug-n-play. But every Rhizome always starts with the same basics: two warehouses stacked on top of each other, a three-story service lift connecting the warehouses and the Moon’s surface, and crew quarters split off one of the warehouses, dealer’s choice.

Crash Keys, an investment firm known to the UN as unfocused in regards to acquisitions but *scarily* accurate as an information broker, was easily able to get exclusive rights to Rhizome 9 on *very* short notice. Due to this short notice, only the listed basics were built into the Moon.

(And if they passed a tip to the UN in early January that the Project needed to speed up a little, enabling the construction of over fifty Rhizomes by April, well. They *are* known for their accuracy.)

all of that to say that by the end of the Diana period of the 45 Year Foretold section, Rhizome 9 only has eight rooms besides the warehouse, and four of them aren’t there until about year three or so. the original four rooms Sigma and Diana have to work with are the four crew quarter rooms from the game. one room is housing the cryo pods, one room that doubles as the medical office if one of them gets sick and Diana’s biomed classroom, one is Sigma’s bedroom (for sleeping and studying *only*, no shenanigans), and the last is Diana’s, which Sigma has never seen before.

[open-hangar]

Space Defense Lanzer Ep. 8

LUNARIAN MECHANICAL RECORDS

Μακάριοι οι Παρατηρητές

Custom Lanzer Type-Selene

Size: 20m, 60 tons

Power Output: 990 MW/minute onboard, [REDACTED]

Pilots: 1 active pilot

Weaponry and abilities: Space flight, limited atmospheric flight, modular weaponry and armor. Limited onboard weaponry.

Etc.: Changes to this Lanzer by anyone other than Lt. Truth WILL NOT be approved, and will result in disciplinary action.

Elysian had been going over a list of things to confront their commanding officers about ever since they arrived back on the moon. Or, at least, as long as they’ve sat in this decontamination chamber, as everyone coming back from a chargon-rich environment is forced to. Where’s Cynthia? Why can I breathe easily on Earth? Why didn’t you try to rescue me? Why-

“Lt. Truth.”

Their concentration was shattered as their mother appeared in front of them, her figure flashing up against the wall of the chamber. It was a perfect illusion, proving that it was a direct feed to the other side of this wall. Elysian did their best to put on a serious face to confront their mother.

“Where is-”

“Shut up.”

The chairwoman’s voice was like a laser drilling through Elysian’s skull. They had been trained their whole life to obey her every word, but this was more important. They forced themself to push onward.

“Where. Is. Lun-”

“You had been ordered to confirm the existence of an earthling secret weapon and target it for bombardment. But you failed. You rushed in and got our most important weapon destroyed.”

Lt. Truth knew they had screwed up. They were the one that had been shot down, after all, but something about the way that Chairwoman Truth said it impressed it. Elysian now knew in their soul that they had royally messed up. But they couldn’t let up, not now.

“Why can I breathe without my mask,” the pilot forced out with the angriest scowl they could muster. They hadn’t been given a rebreather to replace the one they had lost on Earth, so every part of his face was visible. Their commanding officer just stared back, and sighed.

“All the work that we put into you, we somehow failed to give you the ability to put 2 and 2 together to make 4.”

This only made the pilot angrier, proven by how they attempted to smash their first against the false window in front of them, which did little other than make the display flicker.

“QUIT SCREWING WITH ME!”

The councilwoman didn’t care about her offspring’s outburst, however. She simply stood and stared before continuing.

“That chamber is filled with the same level of chargon that Earth’s atmosphere does. Roughly 80% or so of the mixture that feeds through your mask, and 40% of what the Type-Artemis feeds through your body when you’re used as a reactor.”

Elysian grows numb as they instinctively cover their face and step backwards. “M-my.. entire life…”

“Before that. In-utero. Carrying you to term shaved 8 years off of my life and every day you make me regret that decision.”

The pilot collapsed to their knees. The scars on their back ached and itched. “The Type-Artemis…”

“You were designed to pilot it. Designed to be the perfect Lunarian, completely unable to produce chargon. But for some reason, that kills you, so you need to be fed more externally. Conveniently, that means that the Type-Artemis can use your organs as a second reactor to boost its strength without needing to carry extra weight. Or, rather, it could until you destroyed it.”

Elysian Truth now knew why his mother had treated him like a pawn, an object for their entire life. It hurt, sure, but the explanation gave them a small bit of closure, as now they knew that their usefulness to her had come to an end with Type-Artemis’ destruction. It was all the pilot could do to genuflect to the floor and beg for forgiveness.

“Mother. I’m sorry that I’m no longer of use to you. Please make my termination as painless as possible.”

A small compartment on one of the walls slid open, a box designed to transfer small objects in and out of the chamber. It contained a rebreather identical to the one that Elysian had worn their entire life. Truth eyed it, confused.

“The chargon scrubbing sequence will commence in 30 seconds. I suggest you prepare for it. Hopefully, you’ll still be useful.”

—

As Councilwoman Truth led her child down the hallways of Aristarchus Base, Elysian felt the crisp, clean air against their skin and felt at home again. But they had to accept that it was a lie. This clean air and the perfection of being a Lunarian would only kill them. Before too long, they reached an elevator, which led down into the subterranean levels, outside of the clearance of most pilots. The door then opened to a dark hangar, and several spotlights shining on a Lanzer.

It was big, maybe 10% larger than most Lanzers that Lt. Truth was familiar with. But the thing that stood out most to them was how unbelievably similar it looked to the Type-Artemis. Same basic shapes, same color, same head, everything. But every subtle detail showed that it was made from completely new parts, a new generation of the Type-Artemis.

“Behold, the Type-Selene,” Councilwoman Truth demanded. “Every weakness of the Type-Artemis has been shaved away, including the stupidity of its pilot. Whereas the Synth-OSi AI merely recommended against foolish choices, it will now take control away from you when necessary, as it did when you were a toddler.”

Elysian could hardly believe his ears. “Cynthia?! It’s still here?! Cynthia!!” The ground and air shook as the clamps holding the Type-Selene in place opened seemingly out of nowhere, and the machine stepped forward on its own. It grabbed the walkway with its manipulators and opened up its empty cockpit, sending a gust of warm, comforting air. From inside the cockpit, a familiar voice reached the young Truth.

“Hello, Lt. Truth. It is good to see you again.”

Elysian could only burst out in tears at the voice. “Cynthia! I thought you had died! I’m so glad…”

“Yes. The Lunarian military successfully retrieved me after what I was told was a long, difficult fight. I look forward to flying with you again.”

The lieutenant looked back at the councilwoman, unsure if the AI was telling the truth.

“Yes,” the councilwoman assured the young pilot. “We still have a mission for you, a chance to redeem your disgusting performance. And you’ll have plenty of backup, too.”

She raised one fist, and snapped her fingers. The rest of the lights in the hangar lit up to illuminate dozens, maybe even hundreds of more Lanzers bearing the signature look of Lunaria’s engineering. They all looked so similar to the Type-Artemis, but painted a sleek black, and each one of them had their own pilots standing at stiff attention saluting Councilwoman Truth.

“If those damned savages think that they can destroy our Lanzers that easily, then we will be glad to prove them wrong.”

Art by https://x.com/REEvolt119956

[spacetech7]

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