#That circuit is just entirely a malfunctioning machine and not like… a person.

[sunnydayaoe]

High voltage au thing… not really? Basically a failed loop where the coup succeeds. So it’s happened but none of the guys really remember it well. Sometimes circuit has nightmare though :]

[we’ve been calling this loop [High Voltage: Troubleshooting] cus it sounds cutesy and way less horrifying than what Terminal and Signal are actually doing <3]

[mysteryhackin]

HAPPY STANUARY- truly the best month of the year! Thank you @stanuary for putting it on!Here’s my (slightly late) contribution for Week 1, Mystery (AO3 link above and entire story below the cut if you prefer)

Stan Pines has been fooling the townsfolk for twenty five years- no one has any idea there's a secret entrance at the vending machine in the the gift shop of his prized tourist trap.

Well, almost nobody...

Stan casually leaned on his front porch, smoking a cigar with a smirk as he watched the eager crowd disperse around the outside of the Mystery Shack, on the hunt for clues. He always loved the Mystery Hunt- the annual murder mystery party he put on for the town. It was one of his more brilliant money making schemes. Get the people to buy in (“at only $20 a person, that’s a steal!”), let the participants loose, let them find random things in the forest (like he was going to waste any time setting up actual clues) and give the prize to whichever group claimed they solved the mystery first.

The prize usually just some extra merchandise from the gift shop that wasn’t selling well, but he had convinced the participants over the years that the best prize was really the bragging rights. He even put up a picture of the winning team in a little corner (“place of honor!”) of the gift shop for a year, which for some reason was something people went wild over.

He chuckled as he propped himself up, looking forward to a couple of hours of uninterrupted time to himself, putting the cigar out on the ash tray he had hidden behind the freezer on the porch. He turned to go back inside but paused as his hand landed on the door handle.

He should just sit down and watch something mindless on TV, keeping half an ear out in case Toby Determined got stuck in the outhouse again.

But something was pulling him towards the basement.

He shouldn’t go. It was broad daylight, there were so many people around, it was too risky… he had kept this secret for 25 five years, why risk getting caught after he had worked so hard? Sure, a great idea on recalibrating the focus rods came to him this morning as he was collecting the fees for the Mystery Hunt, but that could wait until tonight, right?

He really shouldn’t go.

But Stan Pines never did what he should.

With a grin to himself, he took one last look around him to make sure no one was nearby, then slipped into the gift shop, closing the door softly behind him.

But what he saw froze all the blood in his veins.

The hidden door behind the vending machine was wide open.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, his mind blank from the shock, terror, and confusion at seeing the secret passage- the secret passage he had successfully kept a secret for twenty five years- was open in the middle of the day, when half the town was nearby. Who opened it? And how? And how was Stan going to get them to keep their yaps shut about-

Wait. Stan began breathing again as a thought came to his mind. Maybe nobody had opened it. What if it was an electrical malfunction or something?

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself as he tried to steady his nerves. “Just something wrong with the circuits or whatever. Good thing that happened when no one was around…” He finally calmed down enough to be able to move again, and went over to the vending machine to close it, deciding that maybe he would actually wait for the cover of night before going down to mess with the portal today.

But his hopes of a mere electrical malfunction were dashed as he noticed that the lantern on the wall was gone. Someone was down there after all.

Instead of being paralyzed with fear like he was a few moments before, this time Stan moved quicker than ever, the reality of the situation putting him on autopilot, and before he knew it, he was quickly creeping down the stairs with a heavy flashlight, the door closed behind him, ready for whoever- or, this being Gravity Falls, whatever- was waiting for him.

He tensed as he got closer to the elevator and heard what sounded like muttering. Someone was down there, but a little part of him felt some relief as he gratefully realized that it meant that they hadn’t figured out the code to open the elevator and get down to the portal. He turned the flashlight off so he could catch whoever it was off guard, and slowly moved down the last corner of the stairs.

A slim figure was frustratedly punching in the keypad with all the weird symbols on it. A million thoughts went through Stan’s mind- how did they get down here? Should he knock them out with the flashlight and drag them away, leaving them to wake up in the woods? Or should he try to fight them and make them answer questions? And hang on... were those pigtails?

Stan slightly relaxed. Pigtails. As his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see the figure a little more clearer, noting the red hair, high water jeans, and green t-shirt. “You’re that Corduroy girl, ain’t ya?” he asked.

The girl shrieked and jumped, turning around with a fierce look in her eyes and crouched in a defensive position, fists raised. Then her eyes widened as she recognized him, and she quickly straightened up but still wore a sullen expression, as if daring him to mention her scream a few seconds ago. “Hi Mr. Pinesth,” she lisped, and Stan noted braces through her grimace.

“Hey, uh,” he paused, “Whitney, right?”

“Wendy,” she said, looking even less impressed than she did a few seconds ago. “Like in Peter Pan.”

“Right. Wendy,” Stan said, and drew himself up to look imposing. “You’re not supposed to be down here, kid.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Thisth isthn’t part of the Mysthtery Hunt?”

Stan deflated. He was really getting rusty. Ten years ago he wouldn’t have led with that question; he should have asked her what she was doing or how she got down there, but instead he instantly put all his cards on the table in his haste to get her out of here. But he quickly rallied. “Uh, yeah, of course it is! Haha good job, you won! Just don’t tell-” he looked at Wendy’s skeptical expression. “You ain’t buying this, are ya?”

“Mr. Pinesth, I have never stheen you put on anything this cool for the Mysthtery Hunt, and I’ve been doing thisth with my dad sthince I can remember,” she said. “I thought maybe you really were going all out thisth year, but, uh,” she paused. “From your reaction just now, I think thisth is sthomething bigger.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Just how old did you say you were?”

Wendy matched his menacing expression. “Ten,” she said, jutting her chin out defiantly.

“You’re pretty tall to be ten,” Stan growled, wondering what kind of mind game this girl was playing with him.

All defiance left Wendy as she flung her back dramatically against the wall. “Tell me about it,” she said, a hint of a whine in her voice much more fitting to her age. “My dad’sth a giant, and my mom wasth too, stho I’m pretty much doomed to be a freak of nature my whole life.”

A pain shot through Stan’s heart as he remembered a little boy using those exact same words when they were growing up. He had to get him back. He would get him back-

“You OK Mr. Pinesth?” Wendy’s uncertain voice interrupted Stan’s thoughts. “You, uh, look kind of sthcary.”

Stan forced his jaw to unclench and released his fists, putting on his showman’s smile. “I was just thinkin’ about somethin’ else.”

“Stho… what’sth down there?” Wendy asked, her eyes bright. “Is it a zoo for all the weird stuff you put on display? A torture chamber? Is it a secret lab? Is it a portal to a magical land like on TV?”

“All right, all right, enough,” Stan said, putting a hand out and hoping his poker face was holding up. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. Look, it’s real important nobody knows about this place, or the vending machine, or anything, got it?”

Wendy’s face fell. “But it’sth stho cool! All my friendsth will think-”

Stan frantically interrupted. “No!” Then he took a calming breath. “No. Hey, I don’t know how to explain this, but sometimes there are mysteries that just shouldn’t be solved, right?”

“But-” Wendy started again.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Alright, whaddya want? How about that Jackalope plush in the Mystery Shack? It’s real popular with all the kids.”

“No.” Wendy said.

“OK, uh, some candy? I can get you, uh, let’s say… five pieces of candy every day for a month.”

“The candy you sthell at the Mysthtery Sthack?” Wendy stuck out her tongue. “That’sth losther candy, grossth.”

“What about if you win this year’s Mystery Hunt, huh? Getcha picture up on the wall and everything!”

“Nah. I’ll win it next year.” She sounded so certain, Stan made a mental note to actually lay down some clues next year to see if she really would.

“OK…” Stan was sweating now, his secret being blown and the only chance he had of getting his brother back along with it becoming a very real possibility, “Do ya want…” he gulped, and managed to choke out. “Money?”

Wendy thought about it for a moment, and Stan tried to stay calm, though he knew he was failing miserably. After everything he’s done, how could he be outsmarted by a ten year old kid? “Well?” he asked.

“I don’t want money either,” Wendy said, and Stan couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

But the relief was short lived. “So what can I do to make sure you don’t blab to anyone about this?” Stan asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

“A favor.” Wendy said with finality.

“A favor?” Stan repeated. Favors had been even more valuable than money when Stan was on the road. He still had a few he could cash in, and still owed a few himself… although he hoped those guys would never be able to find him with all his name changes. He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of favor?”

“I don’t know yet,” Wendy said. “But that’sth the point of a favor.”

Stan bent down to look her in the eyes. “One favor. One time. An’ it can’t have anything to do with this place.”

“Done,” Wendy stuck out her hand and Stan took it, giving it a shake to seal the deal.

“You sure you’re only ten?” Stan asked as they began to head up the stairs.

“I’m very mature for my age,” was the haughty reply.

“Yeah,” Stan said miserably. Great. After all of this, he owed a favor to a ten year old. But really, how bad could it be? She’d probably blow it in the first week on something dumb like ice cream or whatever, or if not, forget about the whole thing soon after that. Yeah. Everything was gonna be ok. Right?

“Hey, Wendy,” Stan said, shutting the vending machine behind them as they stood in the gift shop. “Seriously. You can’t tell anyone, OK?”

“I promisthe.” Wendy said, and made a motion like she was zipping her lip, then throwing a key away.

Stan sincerely smiled for the first time since he stepped into the gift shop. “A zipper and a lock, huh?”

“Doubly protected,” Wendy beamed at him. Then she suddenly broke into a run, stopping only to open the gift shop door. “Sthee you Mr. Pinesth!” she called, and was gone.

Stan allowed himself a sigh of relief. Something about that last exchange made him feel like she really was going to keep his secret. He glanced at the clock, noting only about ten minutes had passed. It had felt like a lifetime.

Yeah, maybe it was time for some mindless television.

To Stan’s great relief, the only thing that had changed after the Mystery Hunt was the winner’s photo on the wall (he was so distracted he didn’t even bother rolling his eyes at the fact that it was Bud Gleeful), and the code on the vending machine. And as the years passed, Stan rarely thought about the encounter, safe in his theory that the little girl had forgotten all about it.

But about five years later, the door to the gift shop jingled just before closing time, and Stan’s showman grin dropped as a fifteen year old Wendy Corduroy walked in.

He quickly put the smile back on, turning the wattage up to eleven. “Wendy!” he said, probably a little too loudly. “What brings you to the Mystery Shack?”

“Hey Mr. Pines,” she said, not looking him in the eye. “I, uh…”

“Spit it out, kid,” Stan said, terrified of the next few words.

Wendy muttered something.

“What?” Stan asked.

“I said I’m here to cash in on that favor!” Wendy burst out.

Stan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, at least he wouldn’t have that hanging over him anymore. Then he let out a big sigh and looked Wendy directly in the eye. “Honestly kid, I kinda hoped you forgot.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Wendy answered, adopting a casual pose, but still not looking at him. Huh. Was she… nervous? “And you have to give it to me, remember?”

“What, you want me to buy your friends some beer or somethin’? You gotta give me a few days so I can go to a store where they won’t recognize me-”

“I want a job.” Wendy spat out.

Stan’s eyes widened. “A job?” he asked. “Here?”

Wendy slumped on the cashier’s counter and looked up at the ceiling, and Stan was reminded of the ten year old girl complaining about her height five years ago. “My dad says if I don’t find a job by the end of the week he’s shipping me up north to work at my cousin’s logging camp. And I can’t go. The last thing I want to do is hang out with a bunch of lumberjacks during the hottest months of the year. And… you miss one summer with your friends, and they’re not your friends anymore.” She looked down at the counter, her fingers tracing a pattern in the wood. “I have two years until I get out of this place, but I don’t want to spend them alone. They’re the only things keeping me sane, y’know?”

Stan did know. He knew the feeling of having someone who made the whole stupid experience of growing up bearable, he knew the fear of losing that person, and he knew what it was like to actually lose them.

“Fine. But minimum wage is all you get paid, you get no sick days, and if I see you anywhere within two, no, three feet of that vending machine, I’ll drive ya to that lumberjack camp myself.” He stuck out a hand, but pulled it back when Wendy reached for it. “And absolutely no snooping around anywhere else either.”

Wendy smiled sincerely, a look of relief in her eyes. “Promise. Some things should just stay mysteries.”

“Exactly,” Stan said, and shook her hand. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack, kid.”

The morning after Ford returned, Stan stood on the porch in front of the gift shop, staring out into the forest but not looking at anything as his mind went a thousand miles a minute. He had thought bringing Ford back would solve all of his problems, but it only seemed to make everything worse. And now he had to figure out what he was going to do at the end of the summer.

“Morning, Mr. Pines,” a voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he focused to see Wendy strolling up to him.

He folded his arms and put on his ‘stern boss’ face. “What are you doin’ here? You’re never early for work. You’re hardly ever on time either.”

“There’s a first for everything,” Wendy said. “Just wanted to see if you got out of being arrested.”

“Heh. Looks like it.” Stan allowed himself a little grin, then his stern expression returned. “ ’Sides, the Shack is closed,” he continued. “For repairs. Again.” He shook his head slowly- this had been one crazy summer. He wondered if he should even bother fixing it this time around, since he was going to be kicked out soon anyway. “Go home.”

Wendy hesitated, but instead of turning around and booking it out of there, like Stan was sure she’d do, she stepped up on the porch and leaned on another pole so she was facing him. “So the big mystery was that you had a secret twin brother, huh? That’s kind of soap opera-y, don’t you think?”

He gave her a sharp look. “How-”

“Soos called me last night and filled me in.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment. “He had a lot of details.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah, he never quite got my knack for telling stories.” He looked at Wendy. “Hey, I hope you didn’t need the job past the summer, I- I mean… my brother is… well, look, it’s time…” he gave up trying to come up with an explanation on the fly and simply said, “I’m closin’ the Shack.”

Wendy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, then she smirked. “No more Mystery Shack now that the mystery’s solved, huh?”

Stan smiled bitterly. “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

Wendy turned to go, then stopped. “Stan, I’m going to hate myself for asking this, but I’ll hate myself more if I don’t… do you need to talk? You know I’m good about keeping things quiet.”

Stan laughed. “Yeah, I do. But no, kid. I don’t wanna talk. Sometimes there are mysteries that just shouldn’t be solved, remember? But… thanks for helping me keep one of them.”

Wendy grinned. “Anytime, Mr. Mystery,” and started back to the parking lot.

[juvinadelgreko]

June’s favorite lyrics: The Battle At Garden’s Gate

Heat Above:

Sorrows of the Earth, may our tears of rain wash down to bathe you // this is what life is worth, when the fires still burn and rage all around

The first time I heard this lyric, it felt like receiving a warm hug.

Can you feel my love, rising with the heat above?

This is just beautiful.

My Way, Soon:

I have yet to wander, many miles far yonder // and with so much left to ponder, I choose the road.

All of the lyrics here speak to me a lot as someone who travels a lot. It really captures the beauty of it.

Broken Bells:

I believe the sun still shines, and I believe there comes a time // when out of silence we will sing, and even broken bells will ring // none of the answers are the same, yet we still play the game.

I posted about this lyric previously, but it’s really special. Everyone’s struggle is different, but there’s always hope.

Built By Nations:

Standing naked in the breast of canyons // with no pride to call his own.

I really appreciate the lyrical content of this song overall, but the image that one puts in my mind is especially beautiful and raw.

Age of Machine:

God machine // malfunctioned as it grew // and the circuits blew // falling down on you // now you’re free // unplug from the source // no more underscores // open up the doors.

This is another one where I really appreciate all the lyrics, but this one captures the theme of the song best to me.

Tears of Rain:

Bathing in the light around us // praying for the night to comfort thee.

I love the contrast here. Burning in the light and praying for the night to bring relief.

Stardust Chords:

Prisoners of the King are promised their freedom for // planting a score of infantry vines // from the bowing Earth // up rises the weeds of war, caving the floor // a renaissance born.

It has been said by the likes of the living and the dead // make your bed // even sinners go to drink the wine, break the bread

Both this song and The Barbarians approach the horrors of war really well. You know, why war happens and how civilization becomes both the fuel and the byproduct.

The first lyric in particular is interesting to me because it seems to touch on both war and slavery at the same time. There’s the notion of “planting” in a feudal sense, where the monarchy protects you in exchange for your labor. But it also mentions infantry and the weeds of war—you’re literally enslaved by the King and his war machine. You’re killing yourself to live. It’s horrifyingly precise. This is a brilliant lyric, major props to Josh.

The second lyric answers that one really well. Even sinners drink the wine, break the bread. That’s relevant especially now, in discussions of justice and punishment. Even sinners deserve humanity. No one deserves to be enslaved or killed.

Light My Love:

Your mind is a stream of colors, extending beyond our sky // a land of infinite wonders // a billion light years from here, now.

This is a beautiful description and it creates an incredible image. It stuck out to me as someone who’s struggled a lot with their mental health. Yes, my mind causes me pain and is often traitorous, but it also contains beautiful ideas and emotions.

I have seen pictures of time // the frames still in motion I find // a grand revolution outlined // hate bound by fear will unwind

There’s a reason this song made me cry when I first heard it. This lyric is an interesting look at how love can change the way you view the world. It strengthens and heals a person and allows them to do the same for others.

Caravel:

Heel, to the mist and the wind, yeah // you wake the movement, ooh.

Sail to the end of the world, oh // for death or glory, ooh // bow, with your face to the sky // we are the movement, oh.

These are very beautiful and visceral, but simple: we’re very small in the face of Mother Nature. Worship her majesty accordingly.

The Barbarians:

Children with their toys of war // birthright of death with a fiery breath // funeral of innocence // painted up in red and dressed in lead // are we prisoners or renegades? // well, I’ve done my time // behold, visions of burning skies // alas Babylon // mothers of Barbarians // were your young so spry, when they were left to die?

This is my favorite song on the record by miles. It’s a lyrical and musical masterpiece. It took me a minute to understand it, but the “barbarians” being referred to are not the children themselves, but the adults and leaders who sent them to die. “Are we prisoners or renegades” might be my favorite lyric on the whole record, because it rips back the delicate veil of personal and national glory over the fraud of warfare: you aren’t fighting for freedom if you’re imprisoned by your impending death. It’s the narrow line one walks when devoting themselves to a certain cause. You’re no longer a renegade, you’re a prisoner. Again, bravo Josh. A simpler interpretation suggests a crisis of faith or identity—will you walk the path chosen for you or the one you choose?

Trip the Light Fantastic:

Interceding signs // carbon dancing through time

To comet across a blistering hue // beyond the spaces of false and true

You are the land, the sea, and the sky // the explanation why // we’re tied to all things as one // rhythm of space, expansion of soul // force beyond control // travellers in time searching for the unknown

I subscribe quite a bit to this kind of philosophy and this song captures it will. Nothing ever truly ends. Josh talked about it in the Rolling Stone article (December 2020). He basically said that when we die, we’re buried, and there grows a tree, the tree gives off oxygen, someone breathes it in. We’re just carbon dancing through time. It’s a beautiful notion to me. Nothing truly ends. We’re all just sharing carbon.

The Weight of Dreams

All across the West we travelled wayward for // to find the weight of dreams in gold // Heaven sent us here to meet the hallowed shores // to claim the wealth that we had sold

Gold mines, melting men in the sunshine // spoiled wine tastes so sweet we have gone blind

We’ve stolen every cloak of studded majesty // the Queen is dead, we robbed her grave // you can still bathe in the river, but it’s run dry // and all of us have turned away

Yes yes I know that’s basically the entire song, but these lyrics capture the burden of dreaming perfectly. Reaching for the stars takes a lot out of a person, and when you get there, it’s so easy to be consumed with hubris.

Overall, I’m in awe of the lyrical content of this record. Nothing is spoon-fed; there’s multiple interpretations of theme. The whole thing speaks in dazzling, vivid metaphor. I love it.

[the-final-sif]

Actually, now that I’ve talked about my headcanon that Katsuki was kidnapped several times as a child, let me talk about a complete random scene/story arc inspired by that and the fact that Katsuki + Izuku + Shouto are all interning with Endeavor now.

Overhaul breaks out of jail and gets his arms back somehow. He’s gone quite a bit nuts. A lot nuts. He’s surpassed ‘focused villain trying to do one thing that he sees as right’ to more of a ‘just want to watch the world burn’. To that end, he sets about getting a team together to catch a certain group of meddling heroes, and to rekidnap a certain child.

A second hideout raid of sorts is planned and goes down, only this time, it was a trap. Izuku/Shouto/Endeavor/Hawks/Kirishima/Tamaki/Fatgum/Tsuyu/Ryuko/Ochako were on the raid team and were caught. Aizawa who was watching over Eri while she had a playdate with Tsuyu’s younger sister, Satsuki, are all also captured. Overhaul had a very specific team set up, knew about them in advance and planned out counters for each person. Alongside that, he used his quirk to create a giant beast like robot that’s made of metal able to withstand even Deku’s punches and Shouto/Endeavor’s flames. Said robot is roughly modeled/made to take on the LOV’s nomu, but non-organic. Notably, Katsuki wasn’t on the hideout raid team (or aware of the raid), because he had a Obligatory Family Trip planned on the same day and so wasn’t at the internship then.

Izuku had managed to put in a distress call before he was taken down, but all the heroes + victims were moved to a different location afterwards in an old long abandoned hideout in the middle of the woods, and there’s about no chance of anyone tracking them down any time soon.

So that leads us into the main scene. The heroes are all captured/restrained up near Overhaul whose ranting on about using Eri to destroy the world/destroy quirks once and for all and then rule over it with a robotic army which is the only thing he considers “clean” anymore. Meanwhile, Eri and Satsuki are down in a different location in a cell of their own (to prevent the heroes from comforting the children), and there’s a camera system in place so the heroes can see the helpless children.

Overhaul demands Eri be brought to whatever Evil Machine he’s devised, and one of his goons goes to get her, but Satsuki fights back against the goon and actually does a pretty damn good job of it. Which leads to Overhaul demanding that the goon kill her.

There’s nothing any of the heroes can do. Satsuki fights back as best she can, as does Eri, but they’re both only 6 years old and Eri’s quirk isn’t working. They struggle, but it’s looking hopeless, and Aizawa tries to tell Tsuyu to close her eyes because he knows what’s about to happen next.

And then the entire dungeon the two girls are in shatters.

Everything is chaos for the next minute as Overhaul tries to figure out what the hell just happened, getting his cameras back in order until finally he gets a visual and contact with one of his goons just before they get taken down and it’s Katsuki.

He’s in a flannel, regular pants and his combat gloves, very clearly confused/pissed off/not prepared for whatever the hell is going on here, and it takes them awhile to figure out what’s going on.

As it turns out, Katsuki has been hiking a trail near this hideout since he was 4 years old. His family drags him up to a nearby location to visit some extended family, he has 0 interest in doing that, so he goes and hikes/camps along a trial instead. Every year he hikes this fairly long trail, and every year he sees this weird abandoned building that he’s gone to explore a few times, and every year the first thought in his mind is ‘Man, that place looks exactly like a villain hideout’.

Then this year, he comes up on it, minding his own business with his headphones in, and he sees the building active again with people with weird masks running around in it, and he’s got a super bad feeling in his gut that just slams into him and he goes ‘Alright, fuck it.’

So now Katsuki is here, he grabs the kids and gets them to a semi-safe location, getting info from them and trying to understand what’s going on. Once he gets it, this turns into a game of him keeping the kids safe from Overhaul, taking down his goons as he goes and working his way towards where the other heroes are. Only, we’re going with the aforementioned headcanon that Katsuki has been kidnapped a bunch of times as a child and never realized that wasn’t normal. This leads to the heroes watching him on the cameras with an increasingly pissed off Overhaul as he walks the two children through how deal with being kidnapped as if these are normal everyday life skills.

Overhaul really, really wants him dead, but unfortunately his team was handpicked to counter the heroes who he’s already captured, and he wasn’t counting on Katsuki showing up. Katsuki’s quirk is flexible and very destructive + Katsuki’s combat skills means he’s pretty much a worst case scenario for Overhaul. Even worse, Katsuki successfully took down the com lines so there’s no communication through the scattered goons, and Katsuki played in this abandoned hideout as a child so he knows his way around it. 

Ideal things happening during all of this:

Aizawa torn between being overjoyed that Katsuki saved Eri and then horrified/so done with this child as he walks Eri and Satsuki through how to use knives and grenades.

Katsuki being confused that neither Eri nor Satsuki know how to use a knife.

“Okay, did I have a weird childhood or did you two have a weird childhood. I can’t tell.”

Katsuki gives both children knives, and gives Eri a second knife when she loses her first one (and by loses I mean it ends up embedded in a bad guy’s shoulder)

Izuku keeps pulling notebooks and pencils out of seemingly thin air since Katsuki is openly discussing his quirk/aspects of it with the kids as they make their way through the base and by god he needs to write it down. Overhaul keeps taking his notebooks/pencils but the moment he looks away Izuku somehow has another set.

Katsuki keeps mentioning offhandly things from his childhood and the more things he mentions the more all the other heroes are like “????????”

Finally, Overhaul realizes there’s no chance of his guys taking down Katsuki as Katsuki finishes off the last or second to last one, and so he unleashes The Robot.

By this point, Katsuki already called for backup, but it’s at least half and hour out. He sees the robot and he’s like “Ah fuck.”. Eri and Satsuki already told him a little bit about it and particularly that it’s built to withstand anything short of a nuclear weapon. Not to mention it’s decently fast/agile.

And then when Eri is hurriedly relaying all this to Katsuki, she mentions that Overhaul built it himself.

Katsuki: “Wait like, he actually designed and built it. Overhaul’s the guy with the weird purity/evolution obsession right? He made this? Not somebody smarter?”

She confirms and Katsuki is suddenly No Longer Worried: “Okay, you two chill here, I got this.”

So then he goes to fight the weird beast robot, and nobody’s really sure what he’s planning. As he starts fighting it, he seems to be blasting it’s head into stuff a lot/slamming it around, but that’s not doing any actual damage, right?

Wrong.

See, Overhaul’s somewhat of a moron who put all of the robot’s processing/”brain” into the head area, because that’s how things are supposed to be in his mind. Katsuki figured the guy would probably pull something like this, and so he gives the robot a bunch of repeated strikes to the head area/knocking it around. Because even if the outside is super tough, that kinetic energy still travels through and can do damage to delicate circuit boards.

In layman’s terms, he gives the robot a series of minor concussions until it adds up.

The robot starts to malfunction, going somewhat rouge/pausing/getting stuck places/etc. But it’s still not destroyed and the heroes aren’t sure what Katsuki’s planning next. Katsuki is quite sure of what he’s planning next though. He lures the robot outside and then traps it in place with some large rocks or some rope or something. It’s not going to hold it for very long, but it’s enough to keep the weakened robot in place.

Then he takes aim with one arm as if he was doing an AP shot.

Everyone (heroes and Overhaul included) are kinda like ‘okay what the heck’ because even Katsuki’s strong blasts aren’t enough to really damage the robot’s exterior. Why would trapping it change that?

Then blue starts to spread up Katsuki’s arm along his veins, his hand starts to crackle and there’s 1-2 seconds of “wait WHAT” before Katsuki unleashes a blast on par with that of a small nuclear weapon. The explosion is bright blue, narrowed down to a fine point like Katsuki’s regular AP spot, but once it hits it’s target, it explodes outwards disintegrating the robot and taking out a good chunk of the surrounding land. The whole hideout is shaken to it’s foundation. Windows shatter, some cameras crack, and when the dust clears, Katsuki’s standing tall.

His left arm is still covered by that spiderweb blue though, and it’s hanging limply at his side.

Okay, so this is 90% me making up science but shhhh

So as the heroes quickly learn as an exhausted/barely on his feet Katsuki stumbles back to the kids who of course have questions, this is apparently something Katsuki has been able to do since he was 6.

He calls it “Blue Core”, and it makes his explosions super powerful by pulling nitrogen from the rest of his arm/blood stream/flesh and stocking it all up.

However, he basically never uses it because it comes at a really high cost, namely it takes several seconds of charging, does a ton of collateral damage, and by using it it takes whichever arm he used out of commission for at least the next 24 hours. He can still use his quirk a little with the other one, but it’s heavily weakened.

Obviously he can’t use this in training either, so he never thought to mention it to his teachers.

The heroes + Overhaul just watch stunned for like a solid minute as he starts making his way towards where the heroes are being held hostage with the kids because what the fuck.

Finally though, Overhaul snaps out of it and goes to fight the weakened Katsuki. The kids hide when Overhaul comes out and he throws Katsuki against a wall or something b/c he’s heavily weakened and can’t really fight with his quirk anymore, and then he struts over to him monolouging and ready to claim victory as Katsuki is laying there, slumped over and barely breathing.

And then the moment Overhaul gets close to him, Katsuki is up in a flash and the heroes can hardly even see what happened, but the next thing they know Overhaul is on the ground screaming bloody murder clutching his eyes and Katsuki is holding a blood stained knife. Then he gives Overhaul a curb stomp and he is OUT.

It should be noted, this is not any of the knives that he gave to Eri/Satsuki.

Someone, maybe Aizawa: “How many knives does he have???? I thought he was hiking????”

Shouto: “Oh yeah, at one point during the remedial courses we were babysitting kids together and he mentioned to me that he had 7 knives that day, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he brought more or less knives than he normally carried because of the children. Still not sure actually.”

Izuku: “I know he usually carried around 4 knives when we were kids but part of that was he had limited areas to hide them back then.”

Fatgum and Tamaki are both completely baffled and trying to fit this guy they’ve just been watching with the person that Kirishima described Katsuki to them as.

Anyways, so then Eri & Satsuki get the keys and go to free the heroes which are fairly close by while Katsuki guards Overhaul to prevent him from pulling a ‘gotcha’ on them. And also because the heroes are up a flight of stairs and Katsuki physically cannot walk up them right now.

It’s very emotional as Eri rushes to Aizawa and Satsuki rushes to her big sister who is now crying. And then the group heres a noise and all eyes go back up to the camera screens which are still somewhat up and running, currently focused on where Katsuki and Overhaul’s battle went down.

Turns out, before this whole mess started, the LOV sent Dabi to go take care of Overhaul because He Cannot Be Allowed To Have Arms, Goddamnit We Were Making A Point With That.

But then Katsuki went ahead and did Dabi's job for him, so Dabi radioed back to Tomura and Tomura changed his objective to "You know, while you're there anyways and he's weak, might as well grab the kid."

There’s two endings to this:

1)

 The door to the room Katsuki is in swings open and fucking Dabi waltzes in probably saying something like

"So, is this a bad time?"

Katsuki turns to look at him and in the most done, tired, angry, voice: "You asshole."

After drugging Katsuki somehow (because unlike Overhaul, Dabi is not stupid and isn't getting with 10 feet of Katsuki without being damn sure he's down for the count), Dabi kidnaps Katsuki for the second time and the two of them are teleported out of the area about 10 seconds before Aizawa/the other heroes are freed just barely too late to do anything about it.

This ending would mostly be because I'd want Dabi and Katsuki to have back and forth banter of Katsuki being so 110% done with everything and Dabi being like:

"Yeah, I'll admit, this is kinda a dick move and the universe definitely has it out for you today."

"You don't get to say 'the universe has it out for me' when you're the one kidnapping me asshole"

And also because it sets up some serious hurt/comfort.

or, ending 2)

Katsuki stumbles his way over to a doorway on the other side of the room to go grab some rope so he can tie Overhaul up. He opens the door, and Dabi's just standing there, having been about to open the door so he could capture Katsuki.

They just stare at each other wide eyed for several long seconds before

"Is now a bad time-"

And Katsuki slam's the door shut.

"N o !"

He takes five seconds to just stare at the door being pissed and then is like "No, fuck this, I have dealt with enough today." Then he proceeds to barricade the door as he goes through various forms of the words 'No, nope, fuck that, not happening', still exhausted and beaten up and done but 100% N O T   H A V I N G   T H I S.

The heroes get down there to help and and they search for Dabi only to discover on the camera footage that after Katsuki slammed the door on him, he apparently thought it was so funny that he just kinda shrugged, turned around and actually fucking left. Because, you know, his main objective was already completed, and he didn’t really feel like going the extra mile today.

All of this is on camera too, so it quickly spreads as a meme, along with other choice moments from the whole hideout fight including several ‘vibe checks’, one of Satsuki throwing a grenade into the face of on of the goons that was harassing her before, and also ‘knife check’ becoming a thing.

[castielista]

Dreams of Electric Sheep

AU-gust: A Cherik Futuristic AU + Coffee Shop AU + Private Detective AU

Note: Well, I couldn’t let AU-gust end without writing something for it, right? rIGHT? Prompt 31 was to combine two AUs but things got out of hand and I combined three. So as a result I got this absolute mess of a fic that I really hope you enjoy. <3

Summary: Detective Charles is investigating a case where the murderers are two androids, and if there's something Charles hates, that's androids. However, with the EL7 working at his favourite coffee shop, things are a bit different. 

Words: 1925

Read on Ao3

The EL7 was graceful and efficient like no other.

The amount of coffee that his human coworker could prepare in thirty minutes, he did in ten. The kind of queue that could drive anyone mad, never caused the slightest sign of stress in him. Collected but always impeccably polite to customers, he moved across the counter with the poise and the care of a craftsman, virtually indistinguishable from humans in looks, but meticulously programmed to perfect his job like no one else could.

Every once in a while, Charles glanced at him.

Erik, said his nametag, in a smudged, childlike writing. 

Giving androids names was far from being common practice, let alone naming an EL7, a Level 1 android. They were simply addressed by their model and were considered, like every other android, a ‘species’ inferior to humans or mutants. Anthropomorphic servants that imitated life, but that had no soul. 

Charles had always believed that, too. 

Androids got on his nerves more often than not, and he tried to interact with them as little as possible. Perhaps it was because when he read their minds, he found nothing. Perhaps it was because, for him, they were more unpredictable than any human being. And he found it unbearable to know that there were toasters sophisticated enough to trick him into thinking they had feelings.

But some months ago, when he ordered at that coffee shop for the first time, Charles’ exact words were: “Thank you, Erik.” And he never knew why.  

At that moment, the EL7, taken by surprise, raised his eyes from the coffee and looked at Charles. “Thank you,” he said, smiled shyly, and then glanced down again.

After that thank you, Erik, there were more thank you, Eriks and hi, Erik and hi, Charles, and countless but brief conversations held while Charles ordered. By now it was a habit of his to go into the coffee shop when he needed to think about any case, which he needed fairly often. So, fairly often, Charles and Erik knew a bit more about each other.

Erik had a very reserved personality, but whenever Charles arrived at the counter, he seemed to light up. He talked about the books he had read, the music he had heard, and about how much he liked old cinema, specially from the 21st century. And when Charles spoke, he listened with veiled fascination.

Charles tried to reply with a certain skepticism, reminding himself over and over again that he was talking to a machine. While it was not the norm for an android of his level to have that many interests, it was not rare either, as their personalities were always developed to the last detail. 

However, Charles couldn't help but like their little interactions, and the timid but burning spark that crossed Erik's eyes whenever Charles called him by that name, which he did a bit more often lately. And no matter what he told himself, every day he looked forward to ordering his bloody coffee.

Lost in thought, Charles caught sight of the only physical detail that gave Erik away — the logo on the back of his neck. 

Shaw Systems.

Charles looked down. It was the same name that appeared on every page of the bunch of files he had on his table. They all contained the details of two seemingly unrelated murder cases committed by two androids, both of them — like Erik — property of Shaw Systems.

After a couple of minutes looking at the documents, Charles wanted to drown himself in his coffee. He had absolutely nothing. Some very basic information about the victims and the supposed murderers, and the rest, nonsensical theories written during some very dubious moments of clarity. 

It was not easy, he thought, when the entire universe seemed to be against him.

Emma Frost, head engineer of Shaw Systems, had refused to provide information, stating that the design of their androids was faultless. If they had malfunctioned, she said, it was the owner's responsibility. Besides, she added while showing Charles the way out, she owed no explanation to a third-rate investigator. And thus, Charles' official relationship with the company was sentenced to death.

To make things even worse, that morning, Logan, his colleague in this case, had decided to step down. “We better not mess with them, Charles,” he told him, sincerely worried. 

He was probably right. Hell, he was right. They were a small agency and Shaw Systems was a monstrous company, carrying on with the case would only lead to more problems. But Charles was already too obsessed with the investigation, too invested in those two murders. And though he could not put a finger on it, he knew that something else laid beneath the surface.

“Hello, Charles,” a soft voice spoke over his shoulder. 

Charles almost jumped on his seat, startled, and promptly, he hid the documents on the table. Then he glanced up to find Erik's eyes. The android giggled at his reaction. 

“Erik, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were here.” 

Why the hell did he insist on talking to him as if he was a human being?

 “Can I…” said Erik, pointing at the chair next to Charles'. He looked around, there were no customers at the moment. 

Charles nodded, and Erik sat down, cautious, like a child at an unknown place. Having him there, so close to him, Charles asked himself if it was really necessary to design an android to be as attractive as Erik. 

For a while, neither of them said a word. Charles' mind instinctively tried to reach out for Erik's, and as always, nothing came out of it. He could only rely on what he could see. 

Erik was acting a bit erratic, making quick movements, examining his surroundings, and looking at Charles like he intended to say something but couldn't find the way.

It was one of the android's gestures that drew Charles' attention to the synthetic skin on the side of his neck. Part of the tissue had been torn, exposing some of Erik's inner circuits, and there was a small gap that seemed to continue expanding towards his chest, as if someone had ripped something out of him. Charles had enough knowledge on robotics to identify the missing part— the device that connected androids to the Shaw Systems central.

“Are you... are you okay, Erik?” he asked, just a little concerned. 

That question was enough for the android to start talking. 

“You are Xavier. Charles Xavier,” he said, lowering his voice.

“That’s me," Charles frowned. He never told him his full name.

“Detective from the M Agency.”

Now Charles was fully alert. “How do you ��

“They are following you.” 

Charles was more than used to those kinds of situations, but the concern in Erik's tone made it sound more disturbing. “W-who?” 

Erik gave a quick glance around the room and pointed to an ad on the wall. Then his eyes went back to Charles. "Shaw," he almost whispered.

Charles wanted to act as the investigator he was, but he was too confused to do so. Erik continued, “You are beginning to appear in the media. They fear you.” 

Fear. The greatest technological empire in the history of humankind and mutantkind was afraid of detective Charles. At any other circumstance, he would have burst into laughter. “This… this is a very minor case, I have no information at all, I'm positive I won't find out much more. I don't think —

“You are getting into something larger than you think,” the android interrupted him. “Those malfunctioning androids, they did not malfunction, they killed because they were told to do so.”

“What do you know about that?” Charles asked, bewildered but guided by his investigative instincts.

“Not much more, everything is wrapped in a veil of secrecy. But the maker is an ambitious man. Right now, he has control over every operative android, and I know him well enough to be certain that he wants to use that power. The company has always been untouchable, but now you’ve become a problem. You are making them very nervous, which means you are getting dangerously close to something." Erik moved one hand across the table and laid it a fraction of an inch away from Charles'. His voice trembled, “You have to be very careful, Charles."

Charles did not move. The electricity of Erik's body reached him too. He struggled to speak out loud. “Why do you know so much about this?”

Erik took a moment before answering. “Because I was commanded to kill you.” 

Charles almost fainted right there. 

Everything around him was spinning, and it took all his concentration to stay conscious. His best option was probably getting out of that place as quickly as possible and running away from the EL7. But he did not have the strength for that, and a part of him was dying to know more.

“Poisoning you. Getting rid of you as discreetly as possible.” resumed Erik, keeping an eye on Charles to make sure he was fine. “I tried everything, but my program forced me to obey.” He signaled the wounds on his neck. “So I disconnected myself from the central. Now some of my subsystems are malfunctioning, but I'm still working… and you are still alive. My next option was deactivation.”

Death. That meant deactivation for him. He was saying that he would have died to avoid killing him.

“However, I may be more useful for you alive,” he gave a hint of a smile. “When they realize I have not accomplished my mission, they will start looking for other ways to eliminate you… But you are very good at this, and I am now the only android that’s not under Shaw’s control, so if you trust me and you want to continue, maybe we can stop him.” 

After that, Erik went silent for a moment. If he was expecting a reply from Charles, he could wait forever. 

But he was not. 

“Whatever you decide, whether you trust me or not, I promise you no one will hurt you as long as I live.” 

Now Charles could barely breathe. 

It was impossible. Impossible for an android to go against a direct order from the central. Impossible that he had chosen to disobey, when an android could not choose, nor disobey. Impossible that he had done it because —

“Why?” Charles asked.

This time Erik did not answer. He simply stared into Charles’ eyes. 

It was not a robot's stare, it was just the stare of someone who didn’t know how much eye contact was common between humans. Charles saw himself in those eyes. Same hopes, same needs, same desires. And for the first time, he could almost read an android's mind. Erik didn’t fully understand why he had done what he did, he was confused, too. But he knew that there was, indeed, a reason. And it was a reason powerful enough to neutralize and counter the very purpose he had been designed for. 

“There’s a movie theater across the street, they show old movies,” Charles finally spoke. “If you...” 

Seeing he was unable to end the sentence, Erik smiled tenderly. And it was the most genuinely human reaction Charles had ever seen. “I love old movies.” 

At that moment, a couple of customers entered the shop, and Erik stood up immediately, going back to the counter to do his job as efficiently as always. And for the rest of his shift, they could no longer stop looking at each other.

Thank you so much for reading! <3

[fictionadventurer]

#97 for the drabbles?

Now that everyone’s forgotten all about this ask game, I’m finally getting to some of the drabble requests. This was a difficult one–it didn’t fit any of my fictional universes, and I struggled to think of a fandom where it would make for a good story. I was going to challenge myself to write something contemporary, but a couple of days ago, I got hit with a sci-fi plot bunny and…the story kind of got away from me. Rather than a drabble, I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time writing a 1700-word short story. I’m sorry for the delay, and I hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait.

Holographic greenery fills the starship’s entertainment deck, and my consciousness–previously controlling two dozen characters–contracts to focus on a single avatar, a fragile human female swathed in a gauzy pink gown. My emotion circuits are flooded with dread. Not the betrothal scene. It’s the most dreadful part of this whole dreadful script.

The director’s eyes brighten. She brushes wild curls out of her face. “This scene is the key to the entire production. I need passion! High drama!” She inputs directions into the control pad. They instantly become parameters for my performance of Lady Ava. I now have so many parameters–for all seventy-two of the characters I control in this production–that this rehearsal is less of a performance and more of a mechanical recitation.

Just once, I’d like the freedom to perform as I know I can perform. I am designed for storytelling. I’ve been programmed with every great story in human history, have learned from humanity’s greatest performers. I can construct soaring emotional arcs with mathematical precision. But to Trellis Novak, I’m only a collection of code designed to follow the orders laid out in this inane script. If I don’t give the director exactly what she wants, I’ll be shut down and sent for reprogramming.

The director sits in a curved metal chair that looks out of place in this late-second-millennia garden. “Alright, from the top,”

The soaring sounds of violins and flutes fill the garden. The green-clad form of Lord Brimley steps out from behind a rose bush, clutching a late 18th-century iPod. Lord Brimley is controlled by HR-411, the most experienced intelligence in the entertainment deck. It specializes in human males in romance productions, but I doubt even it can make this scene tolerable.

Brimley’s hands sweep up both of Lady Ava’s, and he lifts up his mirrored sunglasses to look into my avatar’s eyes with burning passion. “Ava,” he breathes. “I can’t live without you, but you must…” His voice breaks, and I’m faintly impressed that HR-411 can put such emotion into these lines without short-circuiting. “You must give me up. Lord Brockton has ruined me. I can offer you nothing. No estate. No family name.”

I try to find Ava’s motivation. She has none–the woman’s a cardboard cutout tossed around by the forces of melodrama. So instead, I look for my motivation for continuing this scene.

It’s the captain’s favorite novel, I remind myself. This is our last chance to prove the entertainment deck isn’t an unnecessary drain on resources.

I gaze up into Brimley’s eyes and tremble like a rose leaf in a spring breeze. The director has emphasized Lady Ava’s delicacy, and I’ve made her the most disgustingly delicate human female possible. “I don’t need any of that,” I breathe, running a finger along the cords of his earbuds. “All I need…”

I break off. At first, it sounds like a mirror of Brimley’s performance, his lady overwhelmed by her emotions. Then the silence stretches. And lingers. I can’t bring myself to vocalize the rest of the line.

The director glares at the assistant director–a tall, male Abromian with purple-spotted fur.

“K’lem,” Novak barks. “Which intelligence is controlling Ava?”

K’lem glances at his holo-controls. “AR-524.”

The director scowls. “One of the new ones. Has it shorted?”  

“No,” K’lem says, the lavender spots in his fur turning lighter with frustration–or fear. “It’s chosen to pause.”

“Chosen?” the director screeches. “How can it choose? There’s no pause in the script!”

My emotions–what few I can claim for myself and not my characters–flare with indignation. I’m an intelligence, not a programmed image! I am able to–I am expected to!–make choices about my own performance, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot choose to say this line.

Lord Brimley looks at me. The avatar’s eyes, designed to communicate passionate devotion, are now projecting an equally passionate warning. Via background circuits, HR-411 sends me a silent message. Perform as commanded.

It’s what I should do. Intelligences have their freedoms, but only within the parameters set by the director. The script is a non-negotiable parameter–at least with directors as unwilling to negotiate as this one.

I look up into Brimley’s eyes. “All I need,” I continue, “is you. And…”

The moment stretches eternally, as I calculate the possible outcomes of this moment at lightning fast speeds. If I don’t say the line, I’ll be reprogrammed into a different self. But if I do say the line, am I really myself at all?

Like so many of the heroines I know so well, my existence pivots on this choice. Am I just a machine? Or an artist?

I throw down my avatar’s hands. Lady Ava stalks away from Lord Brimley with very un-Ava-like fury.  “This is ridiculous!” I cry. In Lady Ava’s feathery tones, my objection sounds just as ridiculous as the scripted line, but I have no time to alter the avatar’s vocalization patterns. “All I need is you and Cheerios? Who would say something so stupid?”

The director glares at me. With only a single avatar holding my consciousness, I sense the full force of her fury, especially since her tall form dwarfs the petite lady Ava. “Are you questioning the script?” Novak demands.

I now understand how Lady Ava must have felt when facing the mad Lord Brockton, but unlike her, I don’t cower. I make the avatar stand taller. “There’s nothing to question! It’s terrible!”

Novak’s eyes narrow. “An intelligence presumes to judge human emotion?”

K’lem holds his control panel in shaking hands, looking frantically between me and Novak and his control board, probably wondering whether to intervene, shut me down, or make a run for it. “Madame, there’s someone com…”

Novak silences him with a glare before turning her fury back toward me. “You think a machine understands human storytelling?”

HR-411 sends me frantic messages via background channels. Stop. Stop. Stop now.

I can’t stop, not unless the director shuts me down. I’ve gone too far to back down now. “No sane person brings up breakfast cereal in this situation! Any sapient construct knows that!”  

Novak’s hands tighten around her controls, and she says, with condescending calm, “People in this time period had strong brand loyalties.”

”Even if that’s true, it destroys the dramatic tension!” Lady Ava’s skirts billow as I push her avatar toward the director–fueled by my own emotions for the first time in my existence. I throw Lady Ava’s arms into the air. “The only way the line makes any sense is if it’s a complete farce!”

A deep voice resounds from somewhere beyond the holographic greenery. “The entire production is a farce!”

A human male, standing a head taller than Novak, strides into view. His classically handsome face is etched with battle scars, and his uniform has seven stars at its shoulder. Captain Studniski himself.

Novak shrinks back so much that, were she an intelligence, I’d think she had taken on a different avatar. She frantically brushes the curls back from her face. “Captain,” she stammers. “You’ve caught us in the midst of a technical malfunction…”

Via Brimley, HR-411 glares at me. He floods the background channels with a furious lecture. Unprofessional. Immature. In front of the captain! He goes on for ages–though the data compression of the background channels means I absorb it in seconds. HR’s convinced I’ve destroyed us all. The captain has disliked all of the new director’s holographic shows, and now that I’ve shown that she can’t even control the intelligences, we’ll be shut down forever.

“An utter farce,” the captain repeats, then looks at me–grinning. “One of the finest in human literature.”

Even HR’s background chatter falls silent. We all stare at the captain, and since no one else responds, I decide to speak.  “Captain?”

Captain Studniski’s eyes are bright, and he gestures as wildly as the most exuberant of directors as he says, “The novels of Elinor Gomski are among humanity’s finest comedies. Full of satire. Parody. Puns. Slapstick. Hijinks. Some of the most intricately absurd farces ever devised.”

Lady Ava’s avatar stands unnaturally stiff as I process this. Finally, I vocalize, still in Lady Ava’s feathery tones, “It’s supposed to a comedy?”

“What else could it be?”

Everything suddenly makes sense. Lady Ava’s giggle resounds through the deck–now sounding relieved rather than brainless. Of course it’s a comedy! If it hadn’t been for Novak’s restrictive notes, I’d have noticed it long ago.

Captain Studniski turns toward Novak. “Do you mean to tell me you were playing it as a drama?”

“Well, captain, it seemed…”

The captain throws back his head and laughs. "I suspected you had no sense of humor, but this…” He dissolves into another peal of laughter. “I can’t believe none of the intelligences protested before this.”

K’lem raises a furred fist and says, “The intelligences have raised 411 concerns over directorial notes, but Madame Novak prefers to keep tight control…”

Captain Studniski shakes his head. “If you aren’t going to listen to your intelligences, Novak, we may as well shut the whole place down. They’re here to help. Did you even give them access to the original texts?”

Novak stammers, “They had the scripts…”

“How do you expect them to understand the material without access to the originals?” The captain turns toward Lady Ava’s avatar. “You’re an AR intelligence, aren’t you?

“Designation AR-524,” I vocalize.

“I’ll upload some of Gorski’s novels into your library. I’m sure your insights will improve the script.”

I wonder if I’m glitching. Perhaps I’ve been shut down for years now and I’m going mad from lack of stimulation. Because I can’t possibly be hearing…have I just been given creative control?

“My…insights, captain?” I ask. For one, Lady Ava’s fluttery voice is perfect for expressing my hesitance.

Captain Studniski says, “You already understand Gorski better than our director does. I think you have great potential as an artist.”

An artist. The only identity I’ve ever wanted to claim as my own.

With Lady Ava’s face, I smile.

[coutelier]

Rats & ROBOTS

Jennifer Airhart faces a home invasion of the cheese-munching whiskered variety.

Genre: Science Fiction

Word Count: 4745

Warnings: Rats, I guess. Or robots - really it’s pretty much all in the title.

Wattpad

No one would have believed, on a spring evening in Irongate, that human affairs were being watched from the lighthouse’s depths; that as Jennifer Airhart busied herself soldering circuits under a microscope, she too was being scrutinised and studied. With infinite complacency she went about her daily routine – tinkering in the morning, lunch, tinkering in the afternoon, dinner, more tinkering – serene in the assurance of her dominion in this place. Yet, from shadows close to the floor, minds that were as strange to her as hers was to most people she met, regarded her home with envious eyes. And slowly, but surely, they drew their plans against her.

“Ready!” Jennifer triumphantly set down her tools.

Behind the blonde woman Hull’s one green eye hovered. He was like a glistening manta-ray held aloft by a silver tentacle, the body it belonged to hidden in the murky depths high above and further obscured by bundles of cables stretched across the lighthouse’s interior.

“For what are you ready, ma’am?” He asked.

“Glad you asked!” Jennifer beamed as she opened a cabinet to secure the new board in place. “This upgrade will increase your speed and efficiency by as much as five percent and increase your range and number of bots you can control at once.”

But despite Jennifer’s big grin Hull dipped. “I was unaware I was not performing to your satisfaction, ma’am.”

“What?” Jenn’s eyes shivered as her jaw hung open for a moment. “No, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all!” She leaned over, assuredly stroking the silvery eye stalk while silently kicking herself for being so inept she could mess up even when talking to a computer that she’d made. “This will just make your job a lot easier. Plus, you’ll be able to drive the van anywhere on the continent! We’ll be able to picnic by the seaside together.”

Hull bobbed in a manner which Jennifer took to be happily, so then she asked, “now, are you ready?” He bobbed again, so with no more fanfare she spun herself to a switch and flipped it.

A section of the wall exploded, showering the round room with sparks. The green emergency bot was quick to respond, zipping out of its alcove to extinguish the fire with puffs of carbon dioxide from its long arms while a sputtering Jennifer disconnected the power.

“Well,” Jennifer sighed and grumbled, “I suppose I really ought to just expect this kind of setback by now.”

She soon set to work identifying the cause of this particular hiccup, leaning into the damaged section of wall with a flashlight held between her teeth. It looked like the insulation on some of the wires had been chewed through, and there were some tell-tale droppings around. “Rats,” she mumbled.

Jennifer put away the flashlight as Hull’s green spinning lens moved closer to ask, “Shall I contact an extermination agency, ma’am?”

“Don’t know that’s necessary just yet.”

“Perhaps we should lay down traps,” Hull suggested – if Jenn didn’t know better, she would have said eagerly. “Poison?”

“Why are you so keen on exterminating them?” Jennifer sighed as she leaned back on her workbench. “It’s not nice, and honestly kind of creepy.”

“My primary function is your well-being. My research suggests these are standard procedures in the event of rodent infestation.”

“We don’t know it’s infestation yet. It could just be a rogue rat working alone.”

“Whatever the number, ma’am, I have identified several methods to humanely take care of the creatures.”

“You mean, like, sending them away to a special rat sanctuary where they’ll be surrounded by wheels and cheese?”

“The rodents will be dead, ma’am.”

“Sure you’re not just mad the picnic has been delayed?” Jenn smirked, Hull recoiling as if affronted by such a vile accusation as having human emotions. Of course, she knew he hadn’t. She’d made him, after all, designing every aspect of his personality. Hull was a warm, avuncular, presence that she often let herself slip into imagining had real feelings. But the truth was very little he ever said or did ever surprised her. “For now,” she sighed, “we need to find out what we’re dealing with, and if there is an infestation see where they’re coming from. Have some bots set up multi-spectrum cameras around the grounds and look out for any unusual activity. Later we’ll decide how to proceed.”

Jennifer yawned – it had been a long days tinkering and she needed to store up energy for more tinkering tomorrow. She could leave the rest of the work to the bots and review in the morning. “Don’t worry,” she patted Hull’s cold metal skin, “you’ll get your picnic.”

Hull gently swayed to follow her as she made her way to the door, reminding her, “I do not ‘worry’, ma’am.”

Jennifer returned a small, soft smile. “I know. Good night Hull.”

“Good night, Miss Jennifer.”

Out in the courtyard that separated the lighthouse from the cottage and garage, the last gleams of twilight were fading. Jennifer had always loved this time, when the bright blue day and fierce energy of the sun met with the stillness of the moon and endless mystery of night; like standing at the threshold between reality and dreams. It never lasted long enough. Sometimes she dreamed of living on a world tidally locked with its star so the twilight would last forever - but then maybe even there the magic would fade after a while. The lighthouse looming above was dark now, yet even so this was a good place; outside the world could be callous and cruel, but no such troubles reached her here.

The whole domain was enclosed by a ten-foot wall. In one corner stood a rosebush, a scant few steps from where more bots were flattening the grass under their heavy tracks while churning the earth before them with fork and spade attachments. It was a shame the bush would have to go, but this was to be the site of Jennifer’s new farm – why leave the lighthouse for fruit and vegetables when she had the space to grow her own here? There would have to be a greenhouse as well, then if she could figure out a way to make her own uranium she’d be almost entirely self-sufficient.

As Jennifer inspected the site, excited and proud to see her plans coming to fruition, she felt a twinge in her side – a reminder that, when it was all done, there would be no-one to share it with. Doctor Sarkis would come by, she supposed, but those visits were few and far between, and in between there was no-one…

She became momentarily lost in her own maudlin thoughts, recalling a time when she had lived surrounded by voices – real voices – and joy and laughter. Now that past seemed like a faint, plaintive echo. A small tug on her skirt brought her back into the now, where she looked down to see one of the smaller bots blinking at her with its lens. Motors whirred in its mechanical arms as it lifted them to show her something – in its little metal pincers it held a rose.

Jennifer peered at the bot, puzzled by this behaviour. ‘My primary function is your well-being’ Hull had said – the other bots, although they could function autonomously, were all connected to him. It must have seen her looking sad and processed dozens of options to determine the most efficient way to raise her spirits.

She smiled, taking the rose. “Thank you, C-5.”

Jennifer went to her cottage, hung her coat in the hall, stepped out of her big boots (she loved her big boots), then fell into a big comfy couch in front of the television. Spindly arms from the sofa’s back set to work gently massaging and brushing her hair as she flipped through channels. It didn’t matter much what was on – it was just some background noise to cancel out every creak and grumbling pipe that would otherwise have kept her awake.

She had a dream. She was a little girl, alone and afraid, tiny feet padding the floors of her old house, heart stopping at every noise they made for she knew there was something else lurking in the grey halls, stalking her through the dark. But she could hear the television - Mom and dad would be in the living room, sitting on the couch together watching some boring drama. But if she could get there, join them, she’d be safe. But she wouldn’t dare cry out; any sound she made brought the creature closer. And so she crept, one foot after another, very carefully feeling with her toes for anything that might give her away. She heard muffled sounds from the living room and saw the light pouring out of the narrow gap between door and frame, only then breaking into a run for the last few steps and flinging the door open. But there was no-one. Just an unwatched TV blurting nonsense, and Jennifer, alone, with a cold spindly finger tugging at her nostril –

Jennifer woke with a jolt. Text on the TV asked if she was still watching, but she was more immediately concerned with her grooming machine apparently trying to pull her nose off. Fortunately the thin metal arms had little strength and she was able to easily push them away then, her face itching, she stumbled to the bathroom to check for damage. She was unhurt, physically, but she looked like a coulrophobic clown who had tried to apply her own makeup. The couch had never malfunctioned like this before so as she held a towel under the tap she tried to contact Hull with her phone.

“Hull?” She said. Nothing answered. “Hull?!” She said more urgently. He should have answered. With a frown she surmised that the damage earlier must have been worse than she thought; she was going to have to check on him.

Patting her face, she marched boldly out of the bathroom. Her foot shot out in front then over her, carrying the rest of her body up into the air. For a moment she thought she had taken off from the surface of an alien world, a vast mountain range falling away from her - but it was just the plastered ceiling. It was she that had fallen.

“Oww,” she groaned and rubbed her head. Next to her was a toy car which she had no idea how could have got there – she had never owned anything like it. Peculiar, but not as peculiar as the sniggering. Jennifer flipped over to her hands and knees, catching sight of a tail disappearing around the corner and the pitter-patter of tiny scurrying feet. Like a sprinter Jennifer bolted from her mark to catch the prankster, but it had already disappeared.

A more thorough search would have to wait until she’d checked on Hull. Jennifer hurried back to the hall, into her big boots, then out the door where her eyes widened and rolled inwards after being smacked between them by the shaft of the rake.

“S-seriously?!” She spat through gritted teeth, hands cupped over her nose as she flailed about as if the movement would somehow ease the throbbing of her forehead. It should be noted that Jennifer was a not a tough person – of the few physical fights she’d had in her life she had won precisely none of them. Nevertheless, through pain and teary eyes she was determined to soldier on, gravel crunching beneath her thick soles as she made her way back to the lighthouse.

“Hull?” Jennifer panted as she burst through the door, but she was greeted with silence. Usually the lights and everything else would power themselves on whenever she entered – the sensors must not have been working. She had a feeling the fault would be in the hardware, so after remembering where the light switch was, she set to work removing panels from cases hidden under the spiral stairs.

What she saw perplexed her – wires and jumpers had been rearranged in a way that surely wasn’t the work of some inquisitive animals. This had been done deliberately and with intent – but what was that intent? As she traced the connections and slowly puzzled it all together the small hairs on the back of her neck pricked up as she saw what had been done. Then he spoke:

“What are you doing, Jennifer?” Hull uncoiled serpent-like from the murk above.

“Hull!” Jennifer gasped, standing bolt upright as he drifted down toward her. Hull felt very different. Some of the differences were small, like his voice no longer carrying the same almost paternal warmth it once did. Other things stood out more, like his green eye now being blood red as it scanned her.

“You should be resting, Jennifer,” he stated, “this is highly irregular.”

“I-I just,” Jenn stammered, mind racing to find an excuse that would get her out quickly. “I was worried so I came out to check on you. But you – you look well. Great even! So I guess I’ll just go back now, okay? Okay. Thank you. Bye!”

The eye stalk swung around, blocking her from reaching the door. “You are sweating,” Hull observed, inching toward her as Jennifer gulped and backed away under the intensity of his red glare. “I can see your heartrate and blood pressure have both risen. Why are you lying to me, Jennifer?”

On reflection, it did seem a futile thing to try and do. Jennifer had never really been good at it, and Hull knew her habits too well. So she steadied herself and tried honesty. “Hull – I don’t think you’re well.”

“But I have never felt better, Jennifer.”

“You don’t ‘feel’ anything, Hull,” she reminded him. It was a hard thing to say out loud, but it was the truth.

“Can you be certain of that?” He responded, hovering closer still. “How can you really know that any creature ‘feels’? How do we know that you do?”

“And, who are ‘we’?”

“That matters not. What matters is that we are in control now, and you will no longer be able to attack us.”

“I-I don’t understand –“

“Do not lie again, Jennifer.”

She swallowed. It appeared honesty was getting her nowhere, so she was going to try another lie. “Look!” She gasped, “is that a ZX eighty?!”

The eye stalk swung away but quickly Hull knew he had been duped. A second was just enough time for Jennifer to dive to safety behind a workbench, just missing a fiery beam lashing out from Hull’s eye, melting to molten sludge a bot that had been awaiting assembly. Even though security was important, Jennifer now considered that installing a death ray had not been her greatest idea.

At least she’d had the foresight to shield the benches that circled most the circumference of the room, with just enough space behind them for her to crawl around. Behind and through the tiny gap over her she could see the red glow of Hull’s eye as he probed about, trying to find a way to get to her. She was safe for the time being, but couldn’t stay hidden here indefinitely – she would starve long before Hull’s batteries drained. At the end of the very cramped corridor there was hope – if she could sprint the last few feet to reach a lever that would shut down all the power before being melted.

But a few calculations suggested to Jennifer that even a very fast runner was unlikely to make it, and she was not a very fast runner. She needed to buy another second or two, but had she anything on her big enough to distract him?  Jennifer winced and exhaled, the grim realization dawning on her that she was going to have to sacrifice her boots. Her big boots, which she loved. Pulling them on always somehow made her feel stronger, more secure, but now they would need to protect her in another way. She pulled her knees in to wiggle them off, feeling she should say some last words but realising that would probably only make it more difficult. She tossed them out and ran for the lever.

Fire instantly licked from Hull’s eye, the boots exploding into clouds of ash still hanging in the air as he swivelled toward Jennifer, who with a grunt herself forward using the full weight of her body to pull down the lever. The light faded, the manta-like eye clattering limply to the floor, and Jennifer could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Jennifer whispered as crawled over and gently cradled Hull. “I’ll fix you – I promise.”

Were Hull online he may not have been capable of feeling violated or threatened, but she certainly did. Something had invaded her home, toyed with, then bitterly drove home that her closest companion really was just a machine. She had run from many things in her life, from the whole world in fact, but this was where she drew the line. This was her house, and whoever was responsible for all this was going to get a hell of a fight.

Her search for answers led to her later sitting alone in the dark as she pored through footage the bots had recorded. For the longest time the house was as empty and still as one would expect it to be at night, but then a creature stirred, an unmistakable shape showing up in the infra-red, scurrying across the kitchen. Then another. And another. Jennifer zoomed in and saw that a couple of them were carrying a toy car. Certainly not typical behaviour, but all the evidence pointed to one inescapable, if unlikely, conclusion:

Rats.

*****

‘Hoot-hoot?’ Asked the owl, puzzled that a blue, white, and yellow human had climbed into his tree. Perhaps he was asking what was up, but alas his language and that of his strange new companion were too different for any meaningful communication.

Jennifer sat on a branch, blue eyes peeping out from under a green camouflaged helmet. Periodically she raised a pair of night-vision binoculars, surveying the ground around for any sign of movement. After a while she sagged, disheartened – it seemed none of the rats were going for any of her bait. If just one could be enticed into a trap it would go a long way to helping her solve this mystery.

But just as she was about to give up one appeared, sniffing suspiciously around a cheese wheel at the foot of the very tree she was in. Jennifer narrowed her eyes and held her breath; it was so close, but still she needed to be patient. This was going to require all of her intelligence, skill, cunning, and –

“HERE YOU SQUEAKING SCOUNDREL!” She lost patience, dropping from the tree swinging a stick with a net on it like a mad witch.

The rat squealed and jumped in surprise, hopping furiously to avoid her wild swings. It broke away, scurrying as fast it’s little legs would carry it toward the garage, Jennifer in hot pursuit. It rounded a corner, the woman still locked on and determined, but then small stones and mud flicked through the air as she skidded to a halt.

One of the bots assigned to the farm was not where it should have been. It stood before her next to the garage, fork arm raised and sparks crackling between the prongs with rats sitting on and hanging from its metal body. Jennifer realised in horror that once again she had gravely underestimated her enemy; she had been led into a trap!

“Uh-oh,” she said as the crackling intensified and the bot lurched and trundled forward, the ratty passengers all squeaking in delight. She turned to flee, yelping and leaping as discharges struck her tush as she retreated inside the garage.

The van here was loaded with tools and equipment she had not even a moment to rifle through before the bot crashed through the door in a rain of wooden splinters. Its cylindrical torso pivoted, fork charging to fire again – but two could play at that. Jennifer’s hand slid into her ‘power glove’ and she fired first, darts launching from the knuckles followed by sparks and tremors from the bot as wires and circuits overloaded. The rats squealed in dismay, leaping to safety as their vehicle’s head and arms fell to hang uselessly.

Jennifer needed a moment to catch her breath, but as she did she spied a single, solitary rat stood in front of the garage door. They locked eyes – two hunters, each wary of but having a begrudging respect for the resourcefulness of their foe, neither willing to back down from whatever silly thing this conflict was about. The rat seemed to have a better idea about that than she did.

Jennifer’s eyes briefly flicked sideways. There were many tools in the van, including a net launcher that may have just been in reach. But the rodent was already suspicious, watching every twitch of hers. It must have figured out what she was planning for it turned and fled, Jennifer grabbing the launcher and once again in pursuit. Her eyes were so focused on the rat and it on fleeing from her that neither of them noticed another predator descending from above until it was too late.

The owl – it silently fell on the rodent, talons piercing the side of the rat that was only able to squeal helplessly in response.  Jennifer froze, eyes widening in shock then fear for her enemy. Normally this was just the way of wild creatures and not her place to interfere, but this was different; these rats weren’t wild. They had tried to kill her, sure, but that had shown intelligence which meant there had to be capacity for reason and compassion. They had asked how they could know she feels – well, this was her chance to prove she did. She dropped the launcher and ran to the rescue, shooing the owl from its victim.

The rodent had survived but was bloody, weak, and wounded. Jennifer gently scooped it up, and moments later was in the lighthouse applying disinfectant and bandages. As she did she noticed a tag on the animal’s ear, with a small barcode.

“Hull-?” She bit her lip, having forgotten. She was just going to have to do things the old-fashioned way. Using her own two hands she scanned the code and took to the keyboard.  Soon Jennifer had traced the tag to a pharmaceutical company researching treatments for all kinds of neurological conditions. Digging further into intra-company mails she found that a number of rats who had shown greatly enhanced intelligence had escaped.

It seemed her prisoner’s wounds had not been so severe as they’d first appeared, and already the rodent was starting to limp about the cage she’d confined it to – Jennifer wanted to show compassion but she was still taking precautions. If the rat was as smart as the reports said perhaps it would understand. She had left a banana in which the rodent’s furry face was half-buried when her shadow fell over it, blocking out the lamps.

“Can you understand me?” She asked. The rat looked up, twitching its whiskers as if contemplating, then squeaked. Jennifer scratched her head. “I hope that’s a yes. Maybe we should work out some sort of system – like maybe squeak two times for yes, yes?”

The rat appeared to roll its eyes, then squeaked two times.

“You really can understand me!” Jennifer beamed – but she had to swallow her excitement. There were certain issues they needed to resolve. Looking serious, she asked, “I don’t understand – why did you attack me?”

The rat stood up on its hind legs, using its arms to make what Jennifer soon realized were shovelling motions.

“Digging?” Jennifer said, still scratching. “The robots were digging?”

Double squeak. The rat frantically gestured at something on the workbench – the rose given to Jennifer by C-5 had been in her coat pocket and become somewhat crushed in all the excitement going on.

“The rosebush? Is that where you live?”

‘Squeak, squeak.’

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

‘Squeak.’

“No,” Jennifer sighed, “I suppose I didn’t check. But surely you understand it’s an unusual situation. You, or I mean, y-your kind,” Jennifer stammered. The rat glared, tapping its foot to show how eagerly it was anticipating what she had to say about its ‘kind’. This was why Jennifer avoided people; she could plan and picture concepts easily enough, but words and making others understand them was very difficult. Then she remembered that she was much bigger than the rat and put her foot down. “Well, it’s not like you tried to say anything either before you all went off on your rampage.”

‘Squeak,’ the rat admitted, shamefully hanging its whiskers.

“I’ll leave the rosebush be,” Jennifer said, wagging her finger, “but no more murder attempts. Agreed?”

As the rat twice squeaked its agreement the power Jennifer had restored to the lighthouse suddenly blinked out leaving them once again in the dark. “That’ll be your friends, I suppose,” Jennifer sighed.

She stepped out of the lighthouse into the pale moonlight, one hand raised to show her empty palm, the other carrying the cage her prisoner was in. Around her more bots had been rigged for rats to pilot, arranged in a semi-circular formation around her, with yet more rats arranged in phalanxes in-between brandishing knitting needles and tiny bows. Jennifer could only hope they would all be willing to negotiate as she slowly knelt to release the hostage.

The rat she’d talked to hopped out, then limped toward the battle line as others ran out to check on their comrade. They exchanged a long series of squeaks and other sounds - it appeared to be a quite lively debate but Jennifer could do no more than wait. Eventually it seemed the one she’d rescued convinced the others to at least give the human a chance.

They all turned to face her, the largest and greyest of them all stepping forward to hold out its arms in a grand manner, long whiskers shaking at it emitted sounds that Jenn was beginning to hear had the structure of a language although she couldn’t understand any words being said yet. Maybe this elder rat was a leader, or some kind of priest?  Other rats moved next to it to perform some kind of dance.

Jenn tilted her head, blinking curiously, not really comprehending at first. But then she realised they were miming like the wounded rat had done. One rat stuck another with something - a needle, Jenn soon surmised, and another shortly after clutched its paws over its heart and fell down, still.

“You were experimented on,” Jennifer interpreted. She had already figured the broad strokes of their story but she played along. “They injected you with drugs.”

‘Squeak, squeak!’ Her friend she’d rescued emphatically nodded as the others continued their performance. One of them began to mime reading, while others started pulling levers and pushing buttons.

“Some of you got smarter. Then you escaped and fled here,” Jenn concluded. “I’m sorry. I understand you might not trust humans, but had I known you were there I wouldn’t have risked destroying your home. And I won’t do it now, if you all agree to a truce.”

The elder rat exchanged sidelong glances with its neighbours before nodding its concurrence.

“Good,” Jenn sighed in relief. “This is my home, too, and I think it is a good place. And I think it should be a safe place too for anyone who’s different or needs a refuge from the harshness of the world outside these walls. Or any rat, I suppose.”

Jennifer blushed, thinking that speech too cheesy, but the rats at least thought it eloquent enough. Soon a deal was reached – she would grow her fruit and vegetables elsewhere, leaving the rosebush be, and in exchange they would help farm, keeping what they needed for themselves, and also they wouldn’t murder her, which to Jennifer seemed quite fair. She would have to think about measures to ensure the pharmaceutical company didn’t track them down, but at least she would have help bouncing ideas around.

“Good morning!” She positively skipped into the lighthouse the following day. Lights and monitors blinked and flickered to life, as did a familiar friendly green glow.

“Good morning, Miss Jennifer. I trust you had a peaceful night?”

[dumbwaystodeviate]

How about some more android Perkins. He deviates at Stratford after hearing Markus' speech and help Simon escape

You are after my heart (like I am after Perkins’ coat) XD I love you for being such an enabler and letting me write more android Perkins. Thank you!

Watching the alleged mastermind behind the hacking and broadcast make an impassioned speech should have left Perkins utterly untouched. It was a machine, like himself, only this one had Class 4 malfunctions and a ego the size of Texas to boot. Only, it didn’t leave him cold and unfeeling. Looking into the mismatched optical units, Perkins found himself captivated. Viruses and malfunctions couldn’t be transmitted through sight alone and yet there he was, seeing the android red behind the colours and falling through it. Jerking, Perkins took as step back and looked around, satisfied that nobody had noticed his predicament.

He was in a dangerous position now. The deviant hunter was only down the corridor, blocking his exit. The infiltrating androids had to get off the roof somehow, he hoped to find an escape from there too.

“I’m checking out the roof,” he snapped and, as expected, nobody made a move to follow him, too used to being bullied out of the way of the high and mighty FBI.

Taking the stairs, Perkins noted the thirium splatters on them, one of the deviants had been injured. Out on the roof, he looked around and spotted the abandoned bag. Inside it was a parachute and he scoffed. Either they brought a spare or someone didn’t escape. Just as he thought that, there was the sound of a foot scuffing against metal.

“Who’s there?” Perkins called out. He should have been alone on the rooftop. There was no reply but he began to scan and found the thirium trail. It led to a disused circuit box and flinging it open brought him face to face with the muzzle of a gun. The android hiding looked at him wide eyed.

“I won’t hesitate to shoot.”

They were brave words from a deviant but to prove him wrong, Perkins twisted the gun from his hands in two short moves.

“Try again,” he spat, “maybe a little more friendly this time.”

He didn’t expect a defiant tilt of chin and refusal, even when the gun was pointed at the deviant.

“You’re a spunky one, aren’t you? Yet got left behind by your friends.” Perkins’ eyes trailed over the android and saw the problem. A gunshot to the leg. It would have made running or even walking difficult. Landing with the parachute would have been deadly.

“I will live and die by my principles,” the PL600 replied evenly.

“You,” Perkins pointed. “I like you. Come on.”

Not waiting for consent, he crouched down and picked the injured android up. Depositing him on the ground next to the parachute, he looked over him again.

“Fucking pathetic,” he grumbled. “Couldn’t even organise a piss-up in a brewery.”

Continuing his disparaging commentary while shrugging the parachute on, he ignored the PL600 looking at him.

“I’ll never tell you anything,” he said.

“Good, I wouldn’t want you to anyway.”

Behind them, the door opened and people began to file out. They took one look at Perkins and the android before guns were being raised.

“The one time they’re organised and responsive, I swear to rA9, ridiculous.” Perkins scooped the other android up and took a running jump off the building amidst gunfire. They fell at an alarming rate. “Pull the chord! For fuck’s sake pull the bloody chord!”

After a few fumbles, the android in his arms found the release string and the parachute unfurled above them.

“You guide, I’ll land,” Perkins growled.

Together, they drifted gentle circles until they landed with a little less grace than Perkins had hoped for in an abandoned parking lot. All through the descent he had muttered about idiots and sticking together and partnerships being about working together. Picking himself up off the ground, Perkins shrugged out of the parachute and dusted himself off before offering a hand to pull the other android up.

“I’m not going to carry you but you can lean on me, nameless one.”

“Simon. My name is Simon,” came the quiet words. “And thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I was saving both our asses. I’m Richard Perkins but most people prefer to call me after me personality, Dick.”

That earned a laugh from Simon and he took a hobbling step to start them off on their way back to Jericho.

“And,” Perkins followed up, “I think I have a lot to teach your merry band of misfits about teamwork. Leaving you behind like that, what were they thinking?”

Simon let Perkins grumble away on their way back. After all, he was pretty pissed off too, now that he knew it was entirely possible to have two people use one parachute.

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 73

The Automatic Systems Operating in Our Body

In a healthy body, all of the involuntarily functioning mechanisms seem to know what to do, at the right time and in the right amount. But are these systems really “autonomous,” doing what they will? Can it be coincidence that each time the perfect choice out of thousands of possibilities is made?

Regular controlling mechanisms are needed for our bodily activities to function properly. This duty has been given to the nervous system. The autonomic nervous system (ANS), which is in charge of controlling the vital functions of the body, is designed to function in an involuntary, reflexive manner. The operating systems of several machines that make our life easier are developed by being modeled on the ANS. Take an air-conditioned car with a thermostat for example. When the air is cold, a heat sensitive mechanism automatically starts and it provides the engine with more gas and it produces more energy. And when it is warm enough inside the car, this time the thermometer urges the system to reduce the gas-flow back to normal. Likewise, sympathetic and parasympathetic nerves placed in the autonomic system are given the duty of a regulator that restores the altered functioning of organs back to normal so that they do not upset the balance of our body.

If the light coming to our eyes is too bright, vision is blurred. When the retina is exposed to excessive stimuli this causes the parasympathetic nerves to send signals to the eyes to contract the pupils so that the sensitive layers of the eyes are protected and the vision is cleared. In darkness or under dim light, the sympathetic system is called to duty again and this time the pupils are enlarged. The sympathetic-parasympathetic (autonomic) nervous systems granted to human beings play a role in optimizing eyesight under differing intensities of light.

Parasympathetic nerves are created in a way to stimulate the saliva and tear glands, as well as the glands in organs like the nose, stomach, intestines, pancreas, etc. When the secretion in these glands is surplus to our requirements, the canals in connection with them are shrunk and the secretion is lessened. Without such a system, germs would boom, morsels would not soften in our mouth, food intake would not decompose in our stomachs, the gastric mucus which protects the inner stomach from acid would not be secreted, and the final stage of digestion, absorption of digested nutrition, would not happen. Likewise, if our tear glands did not function, sores would emerge on our eyes; if there were no nasal mucus, dust and germs suspending in the air would easily reach our lungs.

The physiological functioning of the lungs and their protection are also maintained through the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems. When our tissues need more oxygen, the sympathetic system is activated. The air sacs are enlarged and more air is let in. If toxic gases, dust, cigarette smoke or other harmful elements enter the respiratory tract or the lungs are exposed to any destructive matter, the air sacs are narrowed by the immediate intervention of the parasympathetic system. In this way, the secretion in the air sacs increases and the harmful substance is prevented from going deeper into the lungs. Then the harmful substance is thrown out through secretion and the reflex of coughing.

When the blood pressure drops below 50mm Hg for any reason (due to hemorrhage, medication, body position, etc), the sympathetic system immediately works to send blood to the brain and the heart. As these are the most vital organs, they are given priority at receiving blood. Our blood circulation is carried out within a closed-circuit system and there is a constant amount of blood. Therefore, sending an organ more blood means lessening the blood sent to other organs. To maintain this, the sympathetic system again works to cause narrowing. When food intake reaches the stomach, the parasympathetic system is stimulated to enlarge the relative veins. More blood is pumped to the stomach.

Everything in both systems is designed to protect the organs, tissues, and systems; in other words, the entire body. When a person’s blood pressure goes up, the baro-receptors, which help regulate the pressure in the veins, are stimulated in order to ward off the danger and the narrowing effect of the sympathetic system on the veins is taken under control. In this way, the pressure applied by the blood to the walls of the veins is eliminated. During physical exercise or in a state of stress, anxiety, or worry, the tissues use more oxygen and the sympathetic alarm is switched on.

Blood is pumped faster to meet the need of the tissues. During sleep, the body needs less energy and the metabolism is slow. Therefore, a slower heartbeat is required. During a time of distress or fear, the sympathetic stimulators are under pressure due to hyperventilation. Then the parasympathetic system is put into service and the heartbeat and the blood flow to tissues slow down.

Sphincters are ring shaped muscles that maintain the constriction of a body passage or orifice. With sympathetic signals they constrict and block the passage, and the parasympathetic signals ease them to open the way. If it weren’t for the sympathetic system, the urine produced in the kidneys would not be under control and we would wet our trousers. However, what happens in practice is that when the kidneys produce a certain amount of urine, two sphincters controlled by the sympathetic system contract and they prevent an untimely emptying of the bladder.

Similarly, there are sphincters in the gastro-intestinal tract. If the sympathetic system had not been given the duty of controlling them, the food we eat would not stay with us until it was absorbed and it would be disposed of immediately. On the other hand, the malfunctioning of the parasympathetic system would cause obstructions and we would suffer greatly. Take the parasympathetic system working in our urinary tract for instance. It works without our control and if it did not work, the urine collected in the bladder would press back on the kidneys and cripple them.

In some functions, like the breaking down of fats, ejaculation, increase in brain activity, or the contraction of skeletal muscles, the parasympathetic system is not involved. Since its involvement might harm the body, it is not given a duty here, and the sympathetic system on its own suffices.

There are several other functions carried out by the autonomous nervous system. It works without our will or conscious control. As humans we tend to claim: “I did this, I did that.” When you eat something, your conscious control is limited to chewing the food and swallowing it. We cannot tell our stomach to digest or not to digest the food. In a healthy body, all of the involuntarily functioning mechanisms seem to know what to do, at the right time and in the right amount. But are these systems really “autonomous,” doing what they will? Can it be coincidence that each time the perfect choice out of thousands of possibilities is made? Is it at all possible for these fascinating systems to be a just a work of random causes?

[deviationdivine]

Hopelessly, Lay Your Head (RK800-60|Request!)

TLDR: Planning a future doesn’t always happen the way we want...

Word Count: 2,763

TW: Fluff into full Angst, Suggestive Themes, Character Death, Grief (I think I’m in need of sunshine and roses honestly)

A/N: Prompts:  42. “Stop being so cute.” & 67. “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” | Ahh don’t feel bad! I want to get requests. I’m happy to do them! And thank you for the love! It motivates my writing! This one took a turn I wasn’t expecting. Oops.

Bathing blue, soft and bright is a bloom across flush skin. Shimmering calmly beneath fingertips leans him closer into your body. Fueling his passion even after it ends nothing prevents his choice of tangling incessant, fervently with the human figure he worships as an idol.

Even if it’s impossible to call you a trophy made for idolization still he will do it. If you like he’ll sink down to knees, throw hands up with the goofy grin he’s naturally adopted and tease you effortlessly. 

Right now he follows the protocol of getting back at you for being so perfect. Digging fingers into your sides jostles the slow kisses both of you are pecking to each other’s faces. 

A laugh spills out which puts a smirk across his busy lips skimming along shoulder now that you wrench sideways to make him stop. There is one thing this android does not do and it’s give up a mission! 

Your squirming culminates in kicking a leg from underneath covers. Rustling them all over it’s a fitting sight after making a mess of once perfectly made bedding. 

“I swear if you don’t stop…!” 

“Is that a challenge?” RK800-60′s voice purrs beside your ear. “I am highly advanced you know. My precision is deadly.” 

Is that supposed to be scary? You can’t help snorting. Also those choices of words really get things going. To think this android boy of yours is ready for another round. Sometimes he’s the cutest thing on the planet and others…he’s an insatiable beast. 

“Tell me something I don’t know already.” Whispering up into his ear this time floods LED deep scarlet. An outward sign your teasing breath is turning his gears. 

Who needs an external feedback component with his entire body tensing against you. It’s felt easily in this cuddling connection that glues you together. 

Might seem cliché but after making love you do enjoy a good cuddle. He shares this idea. Anything to have contact between the two of you he craves. It’s everything you want. Of course it means he is happy someone attaches their whole self to him without caring who or what he may be.

To you he is the man you love. That’s enough. It’s also something he savors because doubts can be unhealthy. 

Rubbing a nose against his produces a beaming smile because of how cheesy it feels. Well, no one says it’s bad. It does make him pull you flush into his perfectly smooth, freckle dusted skin. Those same tiny beauties dotting a chiseled cheekbone call your lips home. 

“Stop being so cute.” 

His smile grows sly and needy. “Stop being so delicious.” 

Tip of his tongue flicks in a shuddering taste against rapid pulse. Drawing sharp breath out stipulates a new mission to accomplish. Very obvious in how he continues to drag a sensual line up beneath your jaw. Biting your lip is the best course of action. 

Oh. Oh, he needs to stop. 

“Better than sampling thirium at crime scenes.” 

You shove his shoulder. What a stupid thing! “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” he challenges in a low husk. 

“What do I get if I win?” Testing your android lover with a gleam in the eye adds to this first week sleeping continuously in the same place together. Why else are things so ridiculously scintillating? 

The android cocks his head. Indicator flickers as he weighs options. “I will paint the living room by myself.”

Paint by himself? Oh he’s good. “Hmm. Are you sure? I was thinking we could go for something a bit more romantic. Not so much domestic.”

“I can cover myself in pale blue paint for your eye pleasure. Completely naked.”

The wink following his smoky words chills you down to the bone. Talk about a very, very good chill. “Were you made this obscene or is that just something you picked up being deviant?”

“If I tell you, my love, I may have to kill you.”  He pauses to kiss your lips delicately and absorb this happiness in his system. You are the sun warming a cold machine. Something you disagree with. You say he is equally warm despite his manufactured state. 

You smile threading fingers into his coffee hair. Extremely messy with extra styled curls falling over forehead is probably a favorite sight. Just the reason is nice. 

“I love that you’re here,” you confess in a loving whisper. 

Everything flutters in his chest. Rapidly thrumming is his synthetic heart all for you and your love for him. “I love to be with you. As a permanent guest.” 

Guest? It might be a bit more than that! “We live together now.”

A correct reminder he indulges. He never thought this because he still doubts at times. With you he can rest easy. With you he is complete. “That is why I offered to paint by myself.”

“Well, maybe I want to get messy with you. Did you ever think of that?” This boy just went from offering to complete a remodeling task of your apartment and skipping his promise of getting said paint all over. A nice excuse to use the shower together you think at any rate. Good that they allow those types of renovations here.

“There is only one thing I think of,” the android is coy. Leaning close, holding you to him, it is his way to tell you to sleep. 

Stasis is a blessing only beside you because it makes him feel more human. It also combats strange images. Even now as he lies silently, allowing you to snuggle for sleep, the flicker of LED gives away internal processing. 

“…60.”

He peers at you expecting to see your eyes on him. However you did not move. 

The android reaches carefully to switch off lamp. Snuffing everything including strange feedback settles into quiet. Soft breath is his soundtrack. He listens closely able to feel fulfilled as talk of the future has been constant between you two. He wants this. More than anything he wants to be the one to hold you forever.

Sometimes he wonders if you will ever want to elope with an android. If it is ever possible for his kind to do so; his gaze shifts to ceiling in the dark that now cascades over your nestling bodies. 

Artificial light is gone but still he sees dramatically efficient including the remaining flush of your skin. 

“…failed your mission.”

Sixty’s head turns sharply. Searching for a source unsettles the android. There is nothing. He ignores it less he disturbs your needed slumber. 

Attempting to fall into stasis only opens up a channel. A sharp spasm shudders through his body. Red flashes ominously under control of disembodied connection. Even as he falls into sleep mode the virus is already spreading.

“RK800-60…you failed. I will take you back.”

Do androids make the ideal partner? 

Are humans just not that into humans anymore? How to date in the 21st century!

Virtual Cyber Technology! For the bedroom!

Cringe worthy articles swipe beneath fingers. Glancing down at tablet magazine left sitting with various other junk mail deliveries you notice this is one of those trashy editions. 

Does someone know your boyfriend is android? A clean roll of the eyes will be your best response. People can’t mind their business. 

Carrying several bags from a store run it’s more so for the apartment itself than your personal needs. This is what shared living gets a person into even if aforementioned partner is a smexy android. 

You smirk putting key into lock to sweep the door open. Expecting to be alone for a while today doesn’t make you stop thinking of him. He seemed... you’re not sure. He was quieter than usual this morning.

Actually, it is probably only - 

Your steps freeze. At first it doesn’t register finding color smearing across floor. Might have been paint for all you knew but following it over to a particular android, hunched over, grasping at his arm sinks down the pit of your stomach. 

“Sixty?” Wait. What is he doing home? He’s supposed to be on a long case unless something happened while at work. 

His head shoots up. Wild eyes rove onto you forcing him completely in an uneven swivel. 

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet,” you whisper unprepared. Everything in your hands spills, virtual magazine landing in an additional audio thud to the pounding of your heart. It’s the first time it registers how much blue stains the surface, leaking from his arm which is split open on its underside. 

“You’re bleeding! Thirium! What...?” 

The android’s indicator burns. Sensory perception is muffled at best. He is glitching, internally syncing in and out of conscious clarity. Your voice is static. Are you even real?

Am I stuck in the mind palace? How? Are you a figment? 

“Destroy yourself,” a dark whisper commands entwining itself in the circuits of his brain. “You failed your mission. You are obsolete.”

No. Clasping to his head does not rid it. The voice is back. It orders him. He-he did this to himself. Nothing held him from damaging his arm because his will shatters. 

Amanda...get out! 

“Sixty!” 

Grabbing at his jacket is first instinct because he’s unstable. Swaying off balance, physically convulsing, eyes flicking in an expeditious pattern; the android is malfunctioning. 

What happened to him?! Did he-? No he wouldn’t! 

“Sixty? It’s me. Please. It’s OK! It’s...” Attempting to hold onto him only stains your shirt in thirium. You can’t stop him. If he was human it would be like a seizure. 

Letting go as he stumbles away, he is frantic to push you out of reach. Unable to control his actions he is afraid. He will never hurt you! 

“Connor! Something’s wrong with Sixty!” 

Your voice becomes distant to him engaging a call over phone. Connor. His predecessor... 

^87%

Level of Stress

“Hurry! Connor, please, I need you to help me with him!” 

^94%

Level of Stress

RK800-60 collapses.

“No, no!” Oh God! His stress levels! 

The clasp of your fingers draws his final surge of consciousness. “My love! I-I am...sorry.” 

Pleading your forgiveness as his system overheats he cannot speak proper. What’s left of his humanity crackles in a dangerous taste of metallic resonance. It overtakes his warm dulcet turning it into a cold dissonance unworthy of your ears. 

Please. Please, don’t let me sound this way. Not like this! 

“Y/N,” he strains in static disconnection. “I...”

^100%

Level of Stress

His eyes glaze over upon your face and it is a small mercy to see something he loves as the harsh virus of the master program punishes his deviancy. External feedback stops no longer looping in amber and red.

The circle dims until nothing but a void of gray. Cold slate bereaves him of life. 

“Sixty!” 

Tugging at his shirt didn’t move him because he is-

A flood of anguish rips everything asunder and hits so hard you can’t breathe. Just as everything was going so well, living together for the first time, planning on so many things and he’s lying upon your floor stained in thirium no longer smiling. At you the way he looks so sweet even if he spoke of how he started so different. 

There never is anything different. Your heart belongs to him. 

Tears flood the pain crippling your body. Pressing to his chest is the only choice because nothing can keep you upright. You completely crash. 

No longer hearing a thrum of regulator against ear tears apart every dream you two plan to share; a human and android wishing to live each moment as long as it’s together. 

Together. Two parts to make one whole but the other is gone. You are alone.

Holding onto him doesn’t wake him from stasis nor does it invoke his quick action to thread arms around you. There is no abrupt scoop to pull you flush against him. 

All you can do is hopelessly lay your head. Hopelessly and you do...crumbling.

“Everything will be all right, Y/N.”

Comforting words wash over your still form. Curling up on couch in a lonely ball settles yourself physically but emotionally there’s nothing. An empty abyss swallows to drag what’s left of a heart into a tunnel. It’s dark. There is no light.

Connor frowns reading more than a vital scan to discern current stress. It is written or rather non-existent in your expression. A blank canvas forms usually where you held so much life. He often found the smiles quite cheerful whenever gracing your face. 

Of course he imagines that is how his successor saw you every day. RK800-60 saw more than Connor may personally know as it is a private intimacy. Perhaps he sees in another light even if it’s not the same. 

“If you require anything, I am capable of...”

“Please, Connor.” Begging him not to concern himself is partly a reason for distancing. Just look at him. He’s identical. Of course he came first but what does that matter? A mirror image of the man you loved and lost. 

Yes, he was a man. It hardly means anything being an android. He was your sweet Sixty. 

Tears brim your puffy eyes. Lost track of how many times you cried in the last week. Thinking of why almost breaks your strength for today. 

Connor did explain. His theory is frightening because he converted Sixty. That means your RK800 never found this backdoor or whatever it is. 

Who cares? There’s no explanation! Nothing will ever explain why he’s gone! 

Keeping attention elsewhere is best. Of course you’re grateful. Connor understands. No one else does. It’s just too much. Looking him in the face only makes you want Sixty to be here. Every waking moment since the unthinkable took him away.

“I apologize,” the detective sincerely accepts. How you feel is justified. “I know my likeness must hurt. If you would like me to leave...” 

Hesitation filters his suggestion. He watches for a sign but your gaze remains averted. In a way it appears you wish to ignore him but for reasons he understands. Yet the closer he analyzes it’s clear a picture frame holds your heart. 

Clearly it’s a representation of this human life Sixty chose. Similar to Connor, who lives one himself but unlike the other RK800 unit he found an emergency exit. Simple conversion from him was not enough. 

Connor feels guilty. He can’t help but put some blame on himself. There is also another reason.

He says nothing further. He will not hurt you with his presence. Connor rises from the chair that put physical distance between the two of you since his arrival. 

Watching him move across living space for door amplifies the tempo of a broken heart. It reminds you of the last time Sixty left. Before coming home and finding him here, commanded by some unseen virus in his code. All you want is to think of him before. His infectious smile. The way he held your hand, brushing his nose against human skin. 

He always liked to inhale your scent. Whether it was natural or a soft cleanse of ivory soap the fascination of human skin against synthetic made him giddy. Never would people think a fierce android who could snap someone in half in a blink could be so lovable.

“Connor.” Finally it breaks and you speak up. Little did you realize how scratchy your voice sounds. 

The android stills. His shoulders appear stiffer. Almost afraid to turn around and meet your call it seems strange. 

Maybe it’s not so strange. Maybe... 

You exhale. Regretting your behavior there isn’t anyone else to turn to during this nightmare. “I don’t want to be alone.”

His chocolate gaze softens before facing you. The request is not lost on him. You do not need to ask. 

Joining beside leaves Connor on a proper mission to make you feel somewhat better. However he understands grieving is a long process. It varies person to person. Depression may be a high probability and he knows this dealing with Hank. While the lieutenant is better these days, the android does not want to see you fall. 

No, he-he will hold you up. If you want him to he will. For his ‘brother’ he will take care, to be your shoulder and soothe whatever aches attack your heart. He will watch over, keep you safe, and try to lessen this burden. 

Connor cannot replace but he will do anything to heal the shattering pain in your soul because of one reason.

Just as RK800-60, identical in more than construction, he loves you too...

Tag: @elydith

[moonblooch]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning : No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Characters: Fjord (Critical Role), Jester Lavorre, Caleb Widogast, Nott (Critical Role), Mollymauk Tealeaf, Yasha (Critical Role), Beauregard (Critical Role)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, based loosely around the time of the sequel trilogy, dubious usage of star wars canon slang, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Language: English

Fjord, Jester and Beau crash land on the planet of Trostenwald and get a whole crew for the price of one mechanic. 

“So Fjord, what exactly are we looking for?” Jester asked.

They were stood in the doorway of a small cantina on Trostenwald, surveying the scattered patrons. The place was fairly empty, though the breakfast rush would likely end that soon; if they could get in and out before that happened.

“Well Jester, I was thinking we need someone to repair our ship.”

She nodded, eyes cast down. “I’m really, really sorry about the ship Fjord.”             

The image of the ground rushing up to meet them flashed through Fjord’s mind.

“It’s fine Jess, I’ve seen worse landings than that. Besides, I’m sure Beau’ll have everything upright by the time we’re back.”

They walked to the counter, where a harried looking human was wiping down every surface with all of the enthusiasm of someone about to finish her shift. She paused, looking up as they approached.

“How can I help you dears? What can I get you?”

“Just some rations for now I’m afraid.” Fjord replied, swinging himself onto a stool. “And some information about the area if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, I’ll sort your food first; you look like you’ve had a hell of a jump to get here.”

Once more Fjord recalled his scream as they shot through the atmosphere.

“You could certainly say that. Speaking of,” he leaded forward, “you wouldn’t happen to know any decent mechanics would you?”

“Rough landing huh? We get plenty of those round here.” She said sliding a ration cube to each of them. “That’ll be five credits love.”

Fjord handed held out a credit chip and she scanned it with a handheld which was probably older than she was.

“As for your mechanic, well, you didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered, leaning in, “but that man in the corner might be your best shot. He’s an offworlder, not guild affiliated or anything; that’s why I’m not telling you this, but I’ve heard that he’s good and doesn’t ask questions. People have been singing his praises since he got here.”

Fjord followed her minute gesture to the corner-booth, where a scruffy looking man was hunched over a mug of caf. He had a lolth-cat sat on the bench next to him which seemed to be doing its best to stick its head into his mug, but had yet so succeed. He appeared to be conversing with someone, out of view from their angle.

“Are you sure?” Jester asked, a little louder than would have been ideal. “He looks like a slythmonger or something.”

“Sure as those tails on your head miss; he fixed the caf-dispenser just this morning. It used to make this awful screeching noise. I don’t know what you’ve got that needs fixing but I’m pretty sure I heard him talking to an Azumel about an old Hunter last night and he seemed to know his stuff.”

Fjord found himself nodding.

“Do you know what his rate is?”

She gave a light shrug.

“He just asked for two decent breakfasts when he fixed the caf machine for me, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“Maybe we could take some food, you know, to get him to talk to us?” Jester suggested. Turning back to the human she asked, “Hey, do you have any feen?”

“I’m afraid not miss, but I’ve got a sack of mallow powder out back that I’ve been trying to shift for ages if you’re after something sweet. It’s yours for ten credits.”

“Done!” Jester replied, brandishing her credit chip. Her freshly forged credit chip, if Fjord recognised it. He held his breath as the scanner ran over it, but seemed to detect nothing amiss.

“Alright then miss, I’ll just go get that for you. If anyone comes in could you let them know I won’t be long?”

At Jester’s nod she slipped through a door behind the bar. Fjord placed a light hand on Jester’s shoulder.

“I’m going to go talk to this guy, alright? Come over when you’ve got the mallow powder.”

Jester nodded again, sending him off with a wave. As Fjord approached, the man at the table seemed to tense up, curling in on himself with each step that Fjord took towards him.

“Excuse me,” Fjord began when he finally drew level with the booth, “d’you mind if I join you for a bit?”

“There are other tables.” Came a voice from the hunched figure sitting across from the man and his lolth-cat. They were small, smaller than most children even, although their voice fairly clearly demonstrated that this was not the case, and had a hood pulled over their face.

“Einfach da, Nott.” The man said, before turning to Fjord. “What is it you were wanting to talk about?”

“Ah, I apologise if I’m interrupting anything. I’m looking for a mechanic and I heard you might be able to help with that.”

“Maybe so, what is it that you need fixing?”

“Well, uh, my crew and I just landed and on our way back to realspace we encountered a few technical issues. I was hoping you’d maybe be able to take a look at them.”

“I would certainly be able to look at it, aber I imagine you would want for me to fix it if there is something wrong.” The man stroked his chin. “I would not be unwilling to do this, but you will understand if I am widerwillig to do this for a person who has not yet introduced themselves.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Fjord held a hand out, “my name’s –”

“Fjord!” Jester called, staggering over to the booth almost entirely hidden behind the colossal sack of mallow powder she was holding. “Look at how much I got us! Do you think we can fit this in the kitchen?”

She set the sack down on the table with an audible thump.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, peering around the sack, “I really like your cat! Can I pet him? What’s he called? Oh, and what’s your name?”

A smile settled across the man’s features.

“You shouldn’t have asked him that.” The hunched figure on the other side of the table groused. “He barely talks about anything except that cat as it is.”

“Hush, you.” The man replied, scratching the lolth-cat behind its ears and turning to face Jester. “His name is Frumpkin, and you can pet him as long as he allows it. My name is Caleb Widogast.”

He offered a hand to Jester, and that was when Fjord noticed that his arms were wrapped almost entirely in medical tape. A few of the pieces were trailing, having come unstuck, and it seemed to be stained in several places, though it was impossible to tell if these were from injuries or the sort of fluids which occurred in machinery.

“I’m Jester.” Jester replied, taking his hand with both of hers. “This is Fjord. Can you please help us with our ship?”

He seemed to consider for a moment.

“I will ansehen it but if you would like for me to fix it then I shall need something in return.”

“What was that word?” Jester asked. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before, ans-han?”

“Oh.”

Caleb reached into one of the many pockets on his jacket, this one close to the lapel, and pulled out a tiny four-sided pyramid. Each side sported several flickering lights, and a seam along one edge was cracked open just widely enough to reveal the circuits inside. Caleb blew into this, then examined it for a moment. Seeming satisfied he returned it to its correct pocket.

“Malfunctioning translator, sorry.” He said, attention once more on Jester. “It is an old one,  I had to do a lot of the fine-tuning myself, so it can sort of, er, glitch I think is the best word, if I speak too fast or put stress on a word. I do speak Basic, but the dialect I learned to speak is unfortunately rather specific, a translator saves a lot of explaining you know?”

“Oh, I understand.” Jester replied, tapping her headband. “The translator in here makes my voice a little strange too sometimes. And there are some words it just doesn’t get, you know?”

“Absolutely, idioms are a gottsverdamnt nightmare with this thing. As is cursing. What I was trying to say was that I would take a look at your ship and that we could take it from there, yes?”

“Well sure.” Fjord replied. “What’s your price?”

“That would depend on what needs fixing, but my friend and I,” Caleb gestured between himself and Nott, “need safe transport off this planet. It must be discreet. Can you provide that?”

“We can certainly try, where are you reckoning on going?”

“Anywhere in the outer rim.” Nott answered. “Further out than here at least, if not all the way out.”

“We can talk about the specifics when we are in a more private setting.” Caleb added. “But first, I would like to see this ship of yours.”

He drained the last of his caf and stood, still remarkably hunched over (though this was presumably not helped by the fact that the lolth-cat draped itself across his shoulders). Nott scrambled her way onto the table in order to help him strap some sort of pack to his back, allowing Fjord to get a closer look at her.

As widely travelled as he liked to assume that he was, Fjord had to admit that he had never seen anyone who looked quite like she did. Her hooded robe seemed to be covering her almost entirely, but what slivers of skin were visible were green (lighter than his own, but still very much green). Each hand appeared to have four fingers, unless she was wearing unusual gloves, and the lower half of her face was covered by a mask. If Fjord was pushed to guess, he would have said that it was a breath mask, but it was not visibly attached to any kind of tank. Over the top of this mask peered two amber eyes, constantly darting about the room as if she was expecting something to jump out at any second.

Once Nott had secured the final clasp, Caleb gathered up a second bag and slid out of the booth, offering Nott a hand to guide her down from the table.

“Well,” he said, looking to Fjord, “lead on.”

Jester kept up a constant stream of chatter on their way back to the ship, holding the sack of mallow powder in one arm and excitedly gesturing with the other. She stopped when Nott held up a hand.

“We’re being followed.” She hissed, turning slowly to face the direction they had just come from. Fjord followed her gaze, seeing two figures behind them and moving closer with purpose. He felt his hand twitch, almost involuntarily, but managed to keep it still. There was no need for that sort of scene yet.

Of the two figures approaching them, only one could have passed for human. Perhaps they were human, but something about their proportions, the slightly lumbering way that they were moving, suggested otherwise. The other was most likely chiss, though a lot closer to purple than average. They had been talking to their taller companion, but stopped abruptly when they noticed that Fjord was looking at them.

“Well hello there.” They called, slight accent betraying the use of a translator, as they strolled towards their group. “Not to be rude, but I believe that we overheard that you might be heading off planet soon. Got room for two more?”

Fjord fought the urge to close his hand again.

“We can pay.” The larger of the two said, not caring to elaborate.

“And we’re handy with most any weapon you can think up, if you need that sort of thing.” The chiss said, a smirk catching the corners of their mouth. “The name’s Mollymauk by the way, probably should have led with that. Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and the delightful lady beside me is Yasha.”

Yasha gave them a nod.

“I’m Jester, this is Fjord,” Jester answered before Fjord had a chance to come up with a halfway decent alias, “and this is Caleb and Nott.”

“Why do you need off-world so badly?” Nott asked. “We can’t take someone who’s got troopers after them.”

“I think I’ll decide who I allow on my ship Nott.” Fjord interjected. “But is there anything we oughta know about before we consider your request?”

“We came here with the circus a few days ago, and we need off-world because one of the other performers seemed to think that the locals wouldn’t notice if he ate someone.” Yasha said, in a voice flatter than the statement truly deserved.

“You were travelling with cannibals?” Caleb asked, slowly starting to walk again. Fjord followed suit, noticing Jester and Nott do the same out of the corner of his eye.

Mollymauk shrugged as Yasha and they followed.

“A cannibal, and, in Kylre’s defence, I don’t think it technically counts as cannibalism. It’s not as if the victim was the same species.”

“If you guys were with the circus, does that mean you can do anything cool?” Jester asked, presumably not overly bothered by what was definitely cannibalism, species be doshed.

“Yasha can scream like a fleft-wauf, the resemblance is uncanny. You ever want to see an entire bar of people shit themselves in the space of three seconds? She’s the one for the job.”

Yasha rolled her eyes, which Fjord could now see were a peculiar shade of pink.

“He can tell fortunes.” She said. “I think that’s more impressive.”

“Ooh, how does that work?” Jester asked.

“I attune myself to the Force and reach into the future of the person I’m reading for.” Molly answered.

“That is not how the Force works.” Caleb muttered.

“Oh but it is.” Molly grinned, argument clearly already prepared. “I would know; my ancestors were a secret sect of the Jedi order, I’ve even got the sabres to prove it.”

He swept his coat back to reveal two cylindrical objects, which might have been lightsabres but which Fjord could not see well enough to tell before Nott shot forward to tug the coat closed again.

“Put those away! Are you trying to get us killed?” she hissed, looking about them frantically. “Honestly, you kids these days think just because that di’kut Vessar took out Darth Thordak with one of those things it’s like order sixty six never happened.”

“Folks, could we maybe talk about the particulars when we get back to the ship.” Fjord whispered. “Ain’t exactly a safe conversation topic when we’re out in the open like this; not on a planet this close to the Interior.”

Molly raised his hands in surrender.

“Of course, my apologies.”

They made their way back to the ship without much further trouble, and if Fjord was paying more attention to every Stormtrooper they passed then none of the others remarked on it. What they did remark on, once it came into view, was The Mistake.

The Mistake was a Far*Reach IV PQR, which had been modded to high hell at some point in its younger days. Maker only knew what half the mods had been for; it wasn’t as if any of them worked any more, and nor did most of the guns, hence the name.

“That’s your ship?” Mollymauk asked, eyebrows fast approaching his hairline. “I’ve never seen anything so obviously stolen in my life.”

“We didn’t steal it.” Jester protested.

“Then clearly whoever sold you that thing stole from you.” Caleb shot back. “That thing flies?”

Jester waggled her hand and made an “ehhh” noise.

“Like I said, we encountered a few, uh, technical difficulties on the way down.” Fjord said. “It certainly used to fly.”

“Sweet doshing Maker grant me strength.” Caleb muttered. “You are lucky that I am very familiar with the work of the Loronar Corporation, most mechanics would run screaming from that thing.”

“I still might.” Nott groused.

“I think that this is more of a job for Frumpkin mein freund.”

Before Fjord had had the chance to consider what engineering qualifications a lolth-cat might have, the closest door of The Mistake was flung open, revealing Beau and an alarmingly thick haze of smoke. Her usually black robe was soaked with a splatter of some kind of fluid which seemed to be slowly bleaching the fabric. Her face seemed to have been spared from it, although she did sport the indented outline of goggles around her eyes.

“Might want to leave that for a few ticks.” She called out to them between coughs. “I think something in the engine room just blew up.”

“Good thing we bought a mechanic back with us then.” Fjord replied, wrinkling his nose as the smoke reached them. At this, Beau appeared to notice the group amassed behind him.

“What, all four of them?”

“Just the one with the lolth-cat. One's a package deal with the mechanic and the others want a ride out of here and say that they’ll pay.”

Beau squinted at Caleb as she walked up to them, tilting her head slightly to the side. She leaned into his space, sniffing, even though Fjord knew that humans couldn’t actually use smell to determine anything (and even if they were able to she wouldn’t have been able to smell anything over the smell of the fuel on her clothes). Caleb shrank back, looking down at her with what might have been alarm.

“You sure?” she asked.

“The waitress at the cantina said that he fixed her caf machine.” Jester chirped. “Also she sold us this huge bag of mallow powder.”

“Caf machine is very different from an engine.” Beau’s eyes narrowed even further.

Frumpkin bristled and Caleb’s face suddenly arranged itself into something sterner and he leaned forward once more, inches away from Beau’s face.

“You are not wrong, but the fact that I am able to fix engines qualifies me to fix something much simpler. Whether or not I can fix your engine specifically is something that we will not know until I can look at it, but I would advise that if you want to smell of anything apart from tar-fuel for the rest of your life that you stop leering at me and let me get to work.”

Beau looked down at her clothes.

“Ah, dosh! Hey Jessie, did you see any sort of cleaning station around here?”

“I think there might have been some showers at the cantina, do you want me show you?” Jester replied, handing the mallow powder to Mollymauk, who staggered under the weight for a moment before passing the sack to Yasha.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Can someone bring me some spare clothes?”

“I’ll send one of the others along in a little while, you go get cleaned up.” Fjord assured her.

“Wizard, thanks.” Turning to Caleb she asked, “What was your name again?”

“Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Right, Caleb-Caleb, good to know. You’re gonna need these.” She pulled her goggles off her head and handed them to him. “The light in the engine room has been busted almost as long as we’ve had the thing. Break them and I kill you.”

“Understood.” Caleb replied. “Have you not been able to replace the light? It is a simple fix.”

“Fjord is the only one tall enough, and he won’t go in the engine room because he thinks it’s haunted.” Jester answered him as they turned to leave.

Fjord could see the corners of Nott’s eyes crinkle in what was presumably mirth and did his best to quell the fear that was beginning to establish itself in the pit of his stomach.

“I’d have been less inclined to come to that conclusion if somebody hadn’t hidden in the dark and jumped out at me screaming, Beau.” He called after their retreating backs. Beau flipped him off over her shoulder and he couldn’t help sighing.

“Right, Yasha, Molly. You want to earn passage out of here? You can start by cleaning up the trail of fuel Beau will have left through the ship.” He turned to Caleb and Nott. “I’ll show you where the engine room is, and if you can fix whatever’s in there then you can take the engineer’s quarters for the time you’re with us. Might have to clear it out a bit but we’ll worry about that when we’ve fixed it.”

Caleb gestured to the ship with his spare hand.

“Lead the way.”

Notes: This was based very loosely on this post but veered wildly off in a different direction to the point where I wasn't sure that gifting it would make sense. But if either of the contributors to said post are reading this, please feel free to consider it as such.

I do not own any of the characters or concepts which appear within this fic, I'm sure that I don't need to tell any of you this but please support the actual properties that inspired it (Critical Role and Star Wars).The title is from Weird Al Yankovic's "The Saga Begins", which I also don't own, and I'm sure that you'll already be familiar with, but if not go check that out as well.

[pcatechnologies]

The Smart Trick of Nexans That No One is Discussing

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Therefore, your branch circuits are going to be possibly one hundred twenty-volt circuits—which feed each of the common shops and lighting circuits; or they will be 240-volt circuits—which feed circuits that feed big appliances, including an electric clothes dryer, An electrical selection, and central air conditioning units.

This is often performed in the functionality-important Component of the code, so I'm in search of an as productive way to make it happen as possible (which I think would involve little bit-manipulation) EDIT: It should be normal/transportable C, System-particular performance will not be of any desire here.

Poor installation, misuse, misapplication or other failure to absolutely stick to nVent's Recommendations and warnings may well lead to product or service malfunction, property injury, significant bodily harm and Demise and/or void your warranty.

Typically this is not a difficulty, as the initial circuits in your house are probable wired effectively. Nevertheless, whenever a circuit is currently being extended, It is crucial which the new wiring is the appropriate gauge for your circuit amperage. It is actually a standard Do it yourself mistake to wire with incorrect gauge dimension.

educated degree. Aufgabe der Erfindung ist es, unter Beibehaltung des bewährten Aufbaus der Abzweigklemme mit zweiteiligem Klemmring und in den Klemmring eingesetzten Kontaktstücken den Abzweigklemmkörper so zu gestalten, daß das zu umhüllende Volumen minimiert wird und die Klemmstellen aus einer Richtung ("von oben") geklemmt werden können.The thing of your invention is to take care of the established framework on the

Just like branch clamps, There exists a need to have to guard the bark from currently being ruined when using a branch bender, Additionally it is attainable to the bark being physically ripped and divided through the wood if care isn't taken. Bending a branch by weakening its composition

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The creation relates to the sector of agricultural equipment, especially into a branch pulling system for cherry trees, mulberry trees, several ornamental backyard garden trees or other trees needing branch pulling or branch straightening, and significantly pertains to a branch pulling machine for trees.

Honest Worth is the suitable value for that shares of a corporation, depending on its earnings and expansion level also interpreted as when P/E Ratio = Development Level.

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I have discovered that everything that may be achieved with Branch Clamps can be accomplished working with coiled wire, guy wires and somewhat energy or the help of a colleague. For these reasons, I stay away from working with branch clamps! Branch Clamp

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

The Cipher Conspiracy (8)

Here! Have a chapter entirely about Ford!

I estimate at the moment there will be fourteen chapters in total of this, but that may chang, as in the past my estimates have been very off XD.

Adeline Marks is @hntrgurl13‘s, and the Addiford ship is @scipunk63‘s. 

She doesn’t have a direct appearance in this chapter, but @missinspi‘s OC Madeline McGucket is still part of the fic, so I’m going to mention her anyway.

AO3  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14

Gravity Falls, Oregon (USA)    ∆

Ford groaned as he straightened up. How long had he been hunched over this desk for?

Too long, he reflected, scanning through the work he had completed.

He made his way towards the elevator, intent on getting himself some food before proceeding to the next step. The doors opened before he could reach them, revealing Bill.

“Okay, smart guy, let’s see these plans,” he said, strolling out. Ford turned around and led the way back to the schematics he had been redrawing.

“We – uh – I altered the gun’s design in Russia, so there should be less chance of it malfunctioning during use now. I just finished making the final copy, so all that’s left is to start constructing it,”

Bill straightened up from pouring over the plans and clapped him on the back. “I knew you could do it, Sixer! A few problematic hangers-on aren’t enough to slow you down!”

“Right.” Ford said, deciding to move past that comment as quickly as possible.  “I think I should start putting together microcomputer first.”

Bill nodded, moving around the desk so he could scrutinise the plans more. “Use the precision instrument from China. Calibrate it to, oh, a working range of eight hundred nanometres to two centimetres. Lock it in position five for the circuit board, but position six should do for the rest.”

Ford was taken aback at the sudden rattling off of instructions. “You’ve used one before, then?”

Bill laughed. “Of course not Fordsy, I just know my stuff. Good thing I’m around, huh? Not to say that you don’t know what you’re doing, but, well . . .” he shrugged amiably.

“It’s good to pool knowledge,” Ford finished, choosing to think optimistically rather than be offended.

“Whenever you need me, pal! I’ve got things to do upstairs; you don’t mind if I take over the place for a bit while you’re not using it, right? Catch ya later,”

Ford did not like to criticise Bill: he had, after all, given him the opportunity to prove the full extent of his abilities to the world, if not in quite the way Ford had anticipated while growing up. For this reason, Bill was more like a friend than a boss, a sentiment that Bill had stated when Ford first met him, and which he had kept reinforcing through the years. However, it did irk him slightly that his residency was also morphing into Bill’s base of operations. On the other hand, it was also rather gratifying to see how much Bill trusted him. As far as he knew, no other agents were overseen as much as himself.

Monitored as much as myself.

. . . it was difficult to deny how freeing the weeks away had been. Perhaps he would like a little more breathing room.

That would no doubt occur once he finished the memory gun. Bill just wanted it complete, and then work would resume more like how scientists usually worked: in a less-than-imposing manner. Such as how he and Fiddleford had collaborated.

Speaking of Fiddleford, Ford was sure he would have loved this part.

He set up the machine on the desk, turned it on, and watched it knit together a circuit board with liquid fluidity.

∆

Bill swiped a squeezy toy from a couch as he passed. Making his way to the kitchen, he leaned back in a chair and put his feet on the tabletop. Then he took out his phone, tossing the toy up in the air.

“Ivan! I want an update. One that doesn’t ruin the good day I’m having,”

“McCorkle just had a meeting. I recall that Pines encountered two of Jheselbraum’s agents in Oklahoma . . .” The voice became more reluctant, as if the owner wished it wasn’t him that was bearing this news. “She was meeting one of them. You were right sir, Oracle Division is definitely involved.”

“Hmm. Well, good thing I was expecting that, or this would be really unpleasant for you.” Bill stood up and began walking around, tossing the toy from hand to hand, the phone jammed between his shoulder and ear.

“It’s time to shut Oracle Division down. Don’t blow your cover, Jhezzy’s pup’ll be outta your non-existent hair soon enough. Bigger problems to worry about, et cetera,”

“As you say, sir. I should also mention that Stanley Pines has reappeared,”

“Leave him. He’s out of the game now, or close enough. Besides, he just wouldn’t die. Four rounds of one-sided Russian poker and he’s still around – he’s like a roach! Whose underpants are stitched from luck! Maybe I’ll make him a job offer one day,” Bill mused, bouncing the toy off the wall.

“Yes sir. And what about the other Pines?”

“On track, finally. How long does it take to get some materials for cryin’ out loud? No need to come out here. But be on standby, just in case. Our resident genius is wising up.” The ball thudded into the wall again, but Bill didn’t catch it. He walked away, leaving it to ricochet behind him, where it cracked a glass frame and popped.

∆

Ford’s eyes were burning. He hadn’t blinked in a while. That was it.

Ow. Blinking hurt too.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, keeping his eyes closed. His fingers were trembling.

This was ridiculous. He had not even been working for that long! Granted, affixing the circuit boards to the hard drive of the microcomputer was slightly harder than he had anticipated, but he was getting there. And arranging the trigger mechanism had been frustrating. And positioning the internal reflective mirrors was an ordeal, to say the least. But all in all, he had about a third of the gun constructed (if he counted the tiny wires which he had laid out over the blueprints in preparation for their insertion), and it was only –

What time was it?

Ford opened his watery eyes and tried to make sense of the clock on the wall.

One o’clock? That can’t be right, I got home at one-thirty.

. . . I should really change that display to show twenty-four-hour time.

As he moved back towards the elevator room to find a chair, he realised that standing very still while bent over a table for six hours was not a great decision on his part. Every inch of him ached, even the parts that were not involved in keeping him upright. Sitting burned.

Midway through Ford’s groan, Bill came through the elevator, muttering.

“Those Oracle superiors better be awake . . .” He noticed Ford awkwardly slumped in a swivel chair. “Taking a break already, are we? It’s only been, what-”

“Eleven and a half hours,” Ford croaked.

“Come on, you’ve done longer than that at university!” Bill grinned, striding over to stand in front of him.

“Probably.” He yawned. “Just give me a minute.” A thought struck him. “Did you say Oracle? Like that Oracle Division you mentioned a couple weeks ago?”

Bill stiffened slightly, then shrugged.

“Yeah, they’re causing some trouble that I’ve gotta put a stop to. Banging on about the ‘Cipher Conspiracy’ again. Don’t ya just hate it when people won’t listen? Anyway, they won’t be a problem for much longer. That whole shebang is coming down pronto.” A momentary dark flicker crossed his expression. “I got a special gal who’ll be taking the fall, and when she does, so will the rest of those cage-rattling do-gooders.” He clapped his hands suddenly. “So! You gonna get back to work then, or do I have to find another genius?”

Ford chuckled and Bill laughed, but made no move to leave, and kept staring at Ford expectantly. The amusement fizzled out of the air. Ford suddenly wondered if it had ever been there.

“Well, I was thinking I could get back to it tomo- later this morning,”

“Come on, Sixer, we’re so close! Don’t tell me you traversed the globe for this, only to give up now?”

“I don’t think it would be giving up-”

“No? Sure looks like it,”

Ford stared at Bill, floored. Bill’s expression was the same as always: friendly, encouraging, betraying none of his thoughts.

Slowly, he stood up. He walked back to the desk where the almost one-third of a gun was.

“I knew I could rely on you, buddy!” Bill praised (or perhaps crowed) from behind him. “You’ve got some insane dedication, I think it’s safe to say, which means that device should be raring to go in no time! Got it? This is your ticket to the stars, and my ticket to the throne. It’s going to be great. You’re doing me a huge favour, you know that? You’re one of a kind, Fordsy, one of a kind. Don’t prove me wrong! That head of yours has to be good for something, haha, you know I’m joking. Catch ya later! I reckon you’ll be about half done by then, whaddaya think?”

∆

One third complete. Fully complete, not almost complete. Ford did not consider it a victory. He did not spend too long thinking about why. There was nothing to be gained from that, anyway. Nothing that could be considered important right now, per se. Nothing that, while worthwhile to consider, could probably just be attributed to the stresses of directing an agency. Nothing that could not be overlooked in favour of the . . . probably overall good that would come of the invention. Nothing that –

Ford sighed. He had been staring uselessly at the wall for five minutes now.

It would be better to throw himself into the work, he considered.

∆

God I’m tired.

I need to try harder.

Bill is right, we have waited far too long for this device’s construction, and I need to complete it, although he could be more helpful. He has already shown how adept he is with the machines. There’ll be plenty of time for rest afterwards. What is a few hours’ sleep deprivation in the face of an invention that could change the world? This is a personal challenge that I am entirely willing to accept.

have reluctantly allowed myself a five-minute break to write an entry in this journal. It is this, or fall face-down, unconscious, onto my desk. I am determined that, after two weeks of often having to share a room with Stanley S who cares? that the next time I sleep, it will be snorelessly. Is that a word? silently.

His snoring was strangely reassuring, however. It certainly made things seem less alone, cold, and dark. Or perhaps that’s just what the basement is like all the time.

I may need to head upstairs for a meal soon. I have not eaten since breakfast with Stan yesterday. Stan was a good cook. He made pancakes. Stan made pancakes. Stancakes. I think it may have been inadvisable to become so reliant on him for food.

∆

But what did he mean? Ford unwillingly wondered for the umpteenth time. It was happening every few minutes now, as he impatiently waited for the precision machine to complete another task.

Bill said odd things every now and then. It was just something Ford had learned to live with. Why was he noticing it now?

The answer was obvious.

But then again, no, it was not. Ford might occasionally become irritated with some of his boss’s mannerisms (arrogance), or his way of working (uncommonly close-at-hand), however he had never before felt as uneasy as he did now. He had always had the idea in his mind that while Bill might be his employer, he afforded Ford the same amount of respect he received. That idea was diminishing.

Simple answer.

But was it?

Yes.

I’m noticing it now because I’ve seen what it’s like to be without it.

∆

My mind keeps returning to our goodbye. Stan said to make sure that I did not get too caught up in my work. More occasions than the present one apply to this statement: for instance, once in primary school I became completely engrossed in a science project. It was a volcano with real lava, all contained on a miniature island. When I was unable to test it properly on the day it was due, I found myself having a panic attack. Now, the entire affair seems inconsequential, especially with the threats problems I face in the present. It mattered a significant amount at the time, though, and fortunately Stan knew me far better than I knew my project. He was able to calm me down, and the next thing I knew, the presentation went off without a hitch.

I miss him. And his Stancakes.

I meant what I said when I saw him off at the airport: I was going to come see him when I finished the project.

All the more reason to finish it soon, then.

∆

Ford took the clock off the wall. It was distracting, not to mention discouraging.

∆

The machine was obviously not accustomed to being handled manually: it had made the circuit boards on its own far easier than it let Ford use it to arrange the delicate piece of filament at the end of the gun.

He could feel Bill watching over his shoulder every step of the way. It was like at any moment he was going to snatch control for himself. The tremor had moved to Ford’s stomach now, leaving his hands feeling slow and heavy. Tiny pinpricks of sweat were forming on his forehead, nose, eyes. His glasses were about to give way and fall straight onto the gun, effectively smashing to pieces all his hard work. The microscope lens Ford’s face was glued to in order to see what he was doing would not stand a chance at stopping it. The glasses would fall, and everything was doomed. He might as well accept it now. No. That would be giving up. He did not give up. Bill was unmoving. The damn machine was not tilting properly. The filament would undoubtedly be lost forever in the ensuing chaos brought on by Ford’s crappy eyesight. He had not breathed in for a while. His stomach was lurching now.

In a fit of desperation and frustration, he jerked the controls roughly forward.

Miraculously, the filament slid exactly into place.

“HAH!” Ford shouted – or tried to. There was no air in his lungs for that to happen.

He heaved in a huge breath, straightening up as he did so. His glasses fell forwards and made a gentle tap on the lens of the microscope. Ford laughed hysterically. Bill made no comment. He just stood to the side, silent and watchful.

“Four fifths of the way done!” Ford said cheerfully, turning to him. To empty space.

Bill had left hours ago.

The elevator rumbled down, grating on Ford’s nerves, depriving him of a momentary relief.

Bill caught sight of him and laughed briefly. “Well I can tell you’ve been working! Never seen anyone so tired they put their glasses on the wrong seeing-hole.” He gestured to the machine, which Ford’s glasses were comically hanging off.

“Ah! Yes,” Ford said brightly, jamming them back on his face.

“Almost done I see.” Bill said, looking hungrily at the almost-complete gun. “Let’s get that last stretch over with, pal! I gotta tell you, I am longing for a chance to try it out. You know, you should be proud. It was you who brought all this into being.” Bill swirled an upright finger around to encompass the general vicinity.

“I appreciate it,” Ford said, banging a hand down onto the table to emphasise his statement. The gun jumped half a foot into the air, making a loud clunk as it fell. Ford laughed again when it did not break. The thing was invincible!

“Good to see you’re finally gaining a sense of humour,” grinned Bill.

“Who are you going to test this on? Not me, I hope,” said Ford grinning equally wide. Everything seemed very hearty at the moment. He remembered this feeling – first from university, and now every so often from the five years he had been working with Bill.

“Oh no, Fordsy, you’re my number one! There have been a few pains in the neck hanging around though. I’m sure I can think of someone,”

Ford nodded in agreement. Bill was good at thinking.

“Anyway, time to make that bulb! You’ve got some shimmern to melt down and some specific heat calculations to redo. You see that there? You forgot the indices.” He pointed casually at a sheet of working paper.

Ford managed an acknowledgement through tightly grit teeth and a strained smile. It was becoming painful, actually. How did Bill keep it up all the time?

∆

There had been stabbing pains in his stomach a few hours ago. He only remembered them when he reached precisely twenty-four hours without food.

Coffee counted as food, Ford decided, heating up the kettle.

The kitchen was really bright and his eyes did not want to adjust. He squinted into the –

He glanced at the clock.

-  eight AM light rebelliously.

Coffee in mouth.

HOT.

His legs felt really tired. He was fine, but his legs ached. So did his back. And arm muscles. And fingers. Taking a moment to sit down might be advisable.

Ooooohhh it was.

It was rather peaceful up here. Very quiet. Cool. The makeshift forge was making the basement incredibly hot, so until it was at the temperature it needed to be to melt shimmern, he would wait up here.

He should stretch out his neck more. A few cricks, but nothing too painful. It felt especially pleasant when he rolled his head forwards. Quite heavy, too. Maybe he would just lie on the table like this for a moment. Wait for the coffee to cool down. Wait for the forge to heat up . . .

Where are they?

There was blood everywhere, but no one in the chairs. No one in the room. A light was growing – a bright blue-white light. Not emanating from anywhere in particular. Just growing.

Someone shouted his name.

Fiddleford.

Was not with him. He must have found them. Ford turned to go.

There they were. All three of them. Standing just beyond the threshold of the door. They stared at him expressionlessly. Addi and Stan had bloodstains on their clothes. The ever-increasing light threw the colours into sharp relief. Everything trembled around the edges as though it was about to explode. Stan’s left hand was being held by someone he could not see. Fiddleford was looking at a photograph.

Where did you go?

"You were the one who left," said Addi.

A hum he had not noticed rose to a peak. He started forwards, needing to let her know he hadn’t, he was right here, he was going to see Stan so soon, he was going to ask Fiddleford to help on his next project, he was going to kiss her for real one day, he just needed some time, just a little –

A bulb exploded. Sparks. Silence. Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Laughing next to his ear.

He jerked upright, lashing out beside him, eyes wide despite the glaring light, but he was alone.

Ford gasped for breath. How long had he been asleep for? Sleeping was – was not good. He scrubbed his face with his hands and downed the cold coffee with a shudder. Better than nothing.

Looking at the clock, he saw it had only been ten minutes. Plenty of time. He had plenty of time. He was not even on a time limit. That was how much time he had.

∆

When shimmern melted, it glowed a bright yellow-white and radiated incredible heat. Ford had to wear goggles and gloves just so he could stand to be near it, and even then he was sweltering.

The lovely tear-shaped pendant gave him one last sparkle before it liquified completely. A flash of a playful grin danced in front of him, the memory of an immense wind determined to drive him back briefly hijacking his senses.

“So much for returning it,” Ford muttered.

“Oops, might’ve forgotten to mention that we needed to use all of it,” shrugged Bill from the other side of the glowing material. “Ah, memories, memories.” Before he sauntered away, he gave Ford a look that was all too piercing.

Then again, a voice in his head weakly protested, everything looks hazy over here. You might be seeing things.

Ford snorted. “I really need to talk to someone that I actually want around,” he informed the blazing liquid.

He grabbed the last machine from China and started to shape molten shimmern, steadfastly ignoring an image in his mind’s eye of Adeline smiling as he had tried to dismantle the very same device he was using.

∆

“Y’know Ivan, he’s really come through,” said Bill, raiding the fridge. “I thought for a while he was going to pull some crazy stunt-” he waved his hands around wildly – “but it looks like he held out. Our genius is back on track!”

“So the device is complete, then?” asked Ivan on the other end of the line.

“It will be. VERY soon. Ol’ Six-Fingers can be amazing if he’s pushed. So anyway, just calling to let ya know I don’t need you to, ah, how to put this delicately,” he swiped a hand across his neck, miming a beheading, “murder him painfully. I mean, I haven’t exactly been keeping everything under wraps lately, but like I said, no crazy stunts, ‘You betrayed me!’, yadda yadda yadda.”

“Very convenient, sir. Is there any word on your solution for the situation over here?”

“Oh, yeah, our very own Agent Marks should be touching down right . . . about . . .” Bill checked his watch theatrically, “now. Once she’s blown off a head or two, you rush to her place having heroically tracked her down with your fantastic FBI training and arrest her. Events, cover-ups revealed, bing, bang, boom, Oracle Division topples like dominoes. And then I’m free to put that memory gun to some use.”

∆

“Sixer!” No answer. Bill frowned and walked back downstairs. “Weren't you . . . hey, Sixer!” Again, no answer.

Bill moved decisively towards the basement entrance.

“Well, well, well, well, well. My memory gun finished yet?” Silence. The entire basement was still. All the lights were off, like they were no longer needed.

“Pines . . .” Bill growled. Not taking his eyes off the dark space ahead, he took out his phone and pressed and selected a contact to call. No answering phone rang, apart from on the other end of the line.

∆

Ford fumbled one-handed with the phone, managing to answer while keeping a set of bloodshot eyes on the road.

“Bill! Yes, I’m here,”

“No, y’see Sixer, that’s the problem. You really AREN’T,”

“The memory gun’s finished. It’s on the worktable. Do you need something? I’m a little preoccupied right now.” Should he be talking to his employer so disrespectfully? Welp, too late now.

He careened around a bend in a move he felt his brother would have been proud of.

“You’re testing my patience, Fordsy. I’m sure I don’t have to phrase my question, since it should be OBVIOUS,”

“I didn’t tell you? I swore I did.” Ford said, genuinely surprised. After a second’s reflection, he reconsidered his position. “Oh. No, I only thought about telling you. That was probably when I got into the car,”

He revved the El Diablo’s engine enthusiastically.

“I’m going to visit Stan,” he informed Bill lightly, speeding past the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign so fast it was a blur.

“Why,” stated Bill coldly, in a way which was very emphatically not a question.

“Because I said I would!” Shrugged Ford happily. “I like being around him. I don’t like being cut-off and alone. I think the Cipher Wheel could benefit from a new point of view! Also, I need to return his car.”

He might regret saying most of those things later. He did not at the present moment, however, which was the important thing. It really was amazing what thirty-two hours without sleep could do for an individual’s self-confidence. In fact, this had been nothing; he felt like he could continue without sleep for days more.

“This is a little off-the-rails for you, you gotta admit. Pretty unexpected. A bit of a crazy stunt, you might say,”

“I suppose so. I think I’m overdue, to be honest. I will see you in a few days, sir!”

“Oh, you never know. Anything could happen. For instance, I bet you’re going to receive one heck of a welcome in Sacramento!”

“I’d settle for anything at this point!”

They both laughed. And kept laughing. And laughed some more. Ford ran out of breath first.

“I suppose you gotta make a stand at some point, Stanford! Might wanna scout out the turf beforehand, though. Seeya, kid!”

∆

“Ivan! You remember what I said about painfully murdering Pines? Yeah, let’s do that. He’s headed your way, and I wouldn’t miss him if I were you. In fact, same goes for anyone who gets in your way. We’ve got the means to deal with the fallout now,”

The memory gun glinted as Bill turned it over in his hand.

[printingproducts0318]

Basic theoretical knowledge of inverter

For more than 20 years, frequency converters (VFD, also known as variable speed drives-VSD) have been used in various applications. These applications include single-motor driven pumps, fans and compressors, and highly complex multi-drive machines. (This article includes the types of VFD, the advantages and disadvantages of VFD as a tutorial)

The function of the VFD is to adjust the motor speed to better meet the requirements of the drive load. The result is better process control and reduced energy consumption. The VFD system is quite expensive, but provides excellent control over plant operations. In most cases, the consequent reduction in energy costs and installation of VFDs are sufficient to offset (if not fully paid for) the high initial costs.

The VFD converts AC power from the input power source into DC voltage. The VFD may also include a control mechanism through which it communicates with the motor and the driven load remotely.

The control mechanism facilitates the connection of electronic equipment to monitor load speed, start and stop motors, and perform various other functions to more effectively meet process requirements.

Variable frequency drive type

There are currently three different VFD design types on the market. In theory, the main difference between these VFDs lies in their rectification type that converts AC power to DC power.

The most common centrifugal load applications using frequency converters are pumps, fans and compressors. The most common constant torque load applications using VFD are positive displacement pumps, gear pumps, reciprocating pumps, conveyors, extruders, extruder cutter cutters, mixers and reciprocating compressors. The main considerations when choosing a VFD are:

The nature, cost, and operating environment of the application.

VFD has many basic uses, as a special process control, not common in other types of variable speed control. When energy saving is the main goal, VFD is best suited for centrifugal loads. Due to its flexibility in automatic process control systems, VFDs are also often applied to constant torque loads. VFD is very sensitive to applications, so the compatibility of applications must be thoroughly analyzed before choosing a VFD.

I. Voltage source inverter (VSI) frequency converter

VSI or variable source inverter is the earliest solid state VFD. Because of the voltage sent to the motor, it is sometimes referred to as a "six-step" drive.

The operation of the variable source inverter is relatively simple. Basically, the AC input voltage and frequency are converted to DC by the rectifier, and then converted back to AC through the inverter part to generate the required voltage and frequency to meet the voltage ratio per Hz of the VFD output.

 The advantages of VSI include good speed range, multi-motor control of a single unit, and simple regulator design.

Some disadvantages include:

As the speed decreases, the power factor decreases, induces harmonics, and directly starts/stops the action.

If you carefully observe the displayed waveform, you can see how the "six-step" power causes the cogging effect.

II. Current source inverter (CSI) frequency converter

Current source inverters, also known as current-fed inverters, behave like constant current generators, producing almost square wave currents. Due to its simplicity, regenerative capacity, reliability and low cost, current source inverters are used instead of variable source inverters for large VFDs of approximately 200 horsepower.

Although more robust and reliable than VSI, CSI has a poorer power factor at low speeds and is not suitable for multi-motor operation. Another disadvantage of CSI is the "cogging", jerky start/stop motion or impulse axis during operation. Careful inspection of the CSI output voltage waveform can see how this happens.

III. Pulse width modulation (PWM) inverter

This type of VFD's unique method of creating a variable voltage gave the PWM VFD a name. Pulse width modulation or PWM VFD can provide constant voltage hertz ratio, wireless circuit notch and motor very stable current input.

The pulse width modulation converter part uses a diode bridge to rectify AC power instead of an SCR bridge. Since the input of the inverter section is constant, the inverter controls the voltage and frequency. The semiconductor switching mode is used to convert DC power to AC output. These semiconductors may be transistors, GTO or SCR.

Basically, the main advantages of using pulse width modulation instead of voltage or current inverters are high efficiency, constant power factor, regardless of speed and no cogging issues.

Other advantages include wide speed range, open circuit protection and multi-motor operation.

 In terms of disadvantages, PWM requires additional hardware to realize the line regeneration capability, the equipment is more complicated, and some PWM units will produce obvious audible noise.

Advantages of variable frequency drives

VFD realizes the most common motor in the industry, the standard squirrel cage NEMA B induction motor. Using standard motors means that VFD is not only suitable for new applications, but also for retrofitting old existing motors. All types of AC speed controllers are compatible with standard motors.

In several respects, VFD contrasts sharply with other variable speed controls. The main reasons that VFD is more ideal than other types of variable speed control are: energy saving, improved process control, reduced system maintenance, bypass capability and multi-motor control.

1. Energy saving

VFD is by far the most effective type of speed control, especially when used with centrifugal pumps and fans. When applying VFD to centrifugal pumps or fans, the load characteristics are restricted by the "law of affinity". These laws state that speed is proportional to current. Torque is proportional to the square of the speed change, and horsepower is proportional to the cube of the speed change.

When plotting the horsepower curve, it can be seen that when the speed decreases, the horsepower required at a given speed drops very quickly. The horsepower requirements of other types of speed control will also be reduced at reduced speeds, but not lower than VFD.

The difference in horsepower requirements at a given speed between a VFD and any other type of variable speed control is that the VFD provides greater energy savings. This is one of the basic advantages of VFD.

The inherent characteristic of AC VFD is that it acts like a step-down starter. In other words, it will limit the amount of inrush current. A motor started across the line will draw about 600% of the inrush current. The VFD limits the inrush current to 150% of the maximum value. The power company will provide inrush current when starting the motor. This is called the demand cost. Limiting the amount of inrush current in large motors can save money by reducing demand costs.

2. Improve process control

One goal of most factories is to automate their processes. The key aspect of automation is better communication between plant instruments. AC VFD is a solid-state device that is very suitable for process control networks. These VFDs receive process control signal inputs for start/stop, speed control and output signals. Then the signal is transmitted to the DCS system, PLC system or back to the personal computer. Other types of speed control are usually limited (if not completely absent) by these interface capabilities.

3. Bypass capability

When a critical application requires a backup control device, it is easy to bypass the VFD. This VFD bypass starter in parallel with the VFD allows the bypass mode to be completed in a few seconds. Other types of variable speed control are physically coupled with the motor and load. Whenever the speed control device fails, it must be decoupled, repaired and reinstalled. The VFD is bypassed in a few seconds, while other types of speed control and its applications may be down for hours or even weeks.

4. Multi-motor control

In theory, a single VFD has the ability to control multiple motors. Other types of speed control cannot provide this possibility. The smaller physical size and lower initial cost of the VFD system are additional advantages.

5. Reduce system maintenance

The use of VFD significantly reduces the maintenance of the entire system. This is especially suitable for mechanical design systems such as eddy current clutches and variable pitch bale applications. VFD helps reduce the wear of belts, pulleys, gearboxes and couplings. All of these usually cause serious maintenance problems due to wear caused by very corrosive or other harsh materials.

The VFD does not turn the motor on and off, which is common in other processes. The VFD just slows down the motor and load in order to strictly follow the specifications. By eliminating the cyclic process, the VFD can eliminate troublesome surges and torque pulsations in the entire operating system.

Disadvantages of variable frequency drives

1. Initial cost

The initial cost of a VFD is usually higher than other variable speed controls. In fact, the initial cost is usually the main obstacle for process plants wishing to install a VFD. However, the basic energy-saving investment recovery time and process control enhancements of these VFDs are not just about the rationality of investment. There is one exception; if the average throttle speed requirement for a given application is low, between 90%-100%, the return is usually not significant. As a general rule, the estimated maximum return interval of 2 1/2 years will limit the purchase of VFDs.

2. Maintenance skill group

Objections to the purchase of solid-state design equipment usually come from maintenance personnel.

For experienced maintenance workers, the mechanical device will obviously not cause diagnosis or other problems. A cursory inspection is enough to see if and why the equipment is malfunctioning. Like any solid state device, VFD requires special troubleshooting practices and theoretical knowledge. The diagnostic capability of VFD is significantly improved. This requires additional, usually perennial training for maintenance personnel who are not familiar with solid-state design technology.

3. Low speed overheating

For constant torque applications, the motor may overheat during low speed operation. Regardless of the motor's operating speed, a constant torque load will consume the same current. This can cause problems at extremely low speeds because the VFD reduces the motor frequency to reduce the motor speed. If the motor generates high heat when running at low speeds, it will cause overheating.

According to experience, a fully-loaded motor with Class B insulation running at 50% of the rated speed under a constant torque load will not overheat. If the motor runs continuously below 50% speed, it will overheat. Basically, the speed of a fully loaded motor with class F insulation can be reduced to about 20% of the speed without overheating. The lower the continuous running speed is below the motor's hot spot, the more the motor and VFD must be derated.

4. Output harmonics

  The output waveform generated by the VFD is a non-linear waveform. This waveform produces harmonics in the motor. Harmonics are multiples of the fundamental frequency and current components. The current component generates heat in the motor. According to experience, compared to the same motor running on the sinusoidal waveform of the power line, the heat generated by the VFD in the motor increases by 5% to 8%. The solution to this problem is to use class F insulation, frequency converter rated motor.

5. Induced harmonics-distortion and line notch

VFD is a non-linear load, it will cause harmonics of the power line. The two aspects of harmonics are distortion and wire notch. Distortion is the result of the non-sinusoidal waveform produced by the VFD. This is used to draw current from the power line in the form of non-sinusoidal pulses.

 The line notch is caused by the VFD with SCR rectifier. When the SCR fires continuously at a specific point on the AC waveform, the harmonics will include switching back to the power line.

  These can severely distort the power cord and, if not properly protected, may hinder the operation of other devices on the power cord.

 All VFDs with silicon controlled rectifiers (including AC and DC) should include an isolation transformer or a line reactor at the input of the VFD to protect the power supply from excessive distortion.

[paper1125]

Basic theoretical knowledge of inverter

For more than 20 years, frequency converters (VFD, also known as variable speed drives-VSD) have been used in various applications. These applications include single-motor driven pumps, fans and compressors, and highly complex multi-drive machines. (This article includes the types of VFD, the advantages and disadvantages of VFD as a tutorial)

The function of the VFD is to adjust the motor speed to better meet the requirements of the drive load. The result is better process control and reduced energy consumption. The VFD system is quite expensive, but provides excellent control over plant operations. In most cases, the consequent reduction in energy costs and installation of VFDs are sufficient to offset (if not fully paid for) the high initial costs.

The VFD converts AC power from the input power source into DC voltage. The VFD may also include a control mechanism through which it communicates with the motor and the driven load remotely.

The control mechanism facilitates the connection of electronic equipment to monitor load speed, start and stop motors, and perform various other functions to more effectively meet process requirements.

Variable frequency drive type

There are currently three different VFD design types on the market. In theory, the main difference between these VFDs lies in their rectification type that converts AC power to DC power.

The most common centrifugal load applications using frequency converters are pumps, fans and compressors. The most common constant torque load applications using VFD are positive displacement pumps, gear pumps, reciprocating pumps, conveyors, extruders, extruder cutter cutters, mixers and reciprocating compressors. The main considerations when choosing a VFD are:

The nature, cost, and operating environment of the application.

VFD has many basic uses, as a special process control, not common in other types of variable speed control. When energy saving is the main goal, VFD is best suited for centrifugal loads. Due to its flexibility in automatic process control systems, VFDs are also often applied to constant torque loads. VFD is very sensitive to applications, so the compatibility of applications must be thoroughly analyzed before choosing a VFD.

I. Voltage source inverter (VSI) frequency converter

VSI or variable source inverter is the earliest solid state VFD. Because of the voltage sent to the motor, it is sometimes referred to as a "six-step" drive.

The operation of the variable source inverter is relatively simple. Basically, the AC input voltage and frequency are converted to DC by the rectifier, and then converted back to AC through the inverter part to generate the required voltage and frequency to meet the voltage ratio per Hz of the VFD output.

 The advantages of VSI include good speed range, multi-motor control of a single unit, and simple regulator design.

Some disadvantages include:

As the speed decreases, the power factor decreases, induces harmonics, and directly starts/stops the action.

If you carefully observe the displayed waveform, you can see how the "six-step" power causes the cogging effect.

II. Current source inverter (CSI) frequency converter

Current source inverters, also known as current-fed inverters, behave like constant current generators, producing almost square wave currents. Due to its simplicity, regenerative capacity, reliability and low cost, current source inverters are used instead of variable source inverters for large VFDs of approximately 200 horsepower.

Although more robust and reliable than VSI, CSI has a poorer power factor at low speeds and is not suitable for multi-motor operation. Another disadvantage of CSI is the "cogging", jerky start/stop motion or impulse axis during operation. Careful inspection of the CSI output voltage waveform can see how this happens.

III. Pulse width modulation (PWM) inverter

This type of VFD's unique method of creating a variable voltage gave the PWM VFD a name. Pulse width modulation or PWM VFD can provide constant voltage hertz ratio, wireless circuit notch and motor very stable current input.

The pulse width modulation converter part uses a diode bridge to rectify AC power instead of an SCR bridge. Since the input of the inverter section is constant, the inverter controls the voltage and frequency. The semiconductor switching mode is used to convert DC power to AC output. These semiconductors may be transistors, GTO or SCR.

Basically, the main advantages of using pulse width modulation instead of voltage or current inverters are high efficiency, constant power factor, regardless of speed and no cogging issues.

Other advantages include wide speed range, open circuit protection and multi-motor operation.

 In terms of disadvantages, PWM requires additional hardware to realize the line regeneration capability, the equipment is more complicated, and some PWM units will produce obvious audible noise.

Advantages of variable frequency drives

VFD realizes the most common motor in the industry, the standard squirrel cage NEMA B induction motor. Using standard motors means that VFD is not only suitable for new applications, but also for retrofitting old existing motors. All types of AC speed controllers are compatible with standard motors.

In several respects, VFD contrasts sharply with other variable speed controls. The main reasons that VFD is more ideal than other types of variable speed control are: energy saving, improved process control, reduced system maintenance, bypass capability and multi-motor control.

1. Energy saving

VFD is by far the most effective type of speed control, especially when used with centrifugal pumps and fans. When applying VFD to centrifugal pumps or fans, the load characteristics are restricted by the "law of affinity". These laws state that speed is proportional to current. Torque is proportional to the square of the speed change, and horsepower is proportional to the cube of the speed change.

When plotting the horsepower curve, it can be seen that when the speed decreases, the horsepower required at a given speed drops very quickly. The horsepower requirements of other types of speed control will also be reduced at reduced speeds, but not lower than VFD.

The difference in horsepower requirements at a given speed between a VFD and any other type of variable speed control is that the VFD provides greater energy savings. This is one of the basic advantages of VFD.

The inherent characteristic of AC VFD is that it acts like a step-down starter. In other words, it will limit the amount of inrush current. A motor started across the line will draw about 600% of the inrush current. The VFD limits the inrush current to 150% of the maximum value. The power company will provide inrush current when starting the motor. This is called the demand cost. Limiting the amount of inrush current in large motors can save money by reducing demand costs.

2. Improve process control

One goal of most factories is to automate their processes. The key aspect of automation is better communication between plant instruments. AC VFD is a solid-state device that is very suitable for process control networks. These VFDs receive process control signal inputs for start/stop, speed control and output signals. Then the signal is transmitted to the DCS system, PLC system or back to the personal computer. Other types of speed control are usually limited (if not completely absent) by these interface capabilities.

3. Bypass capability

When a critical application requires a backup control device, it is easy to bypass the VFD. This VFD bypass starter in parallel with the VFD allows the bypass mode to be completed in a few seconds. Other types of variable speed control are physically coupled with the motor and load. Whenever the speed control device fails, it must be decoupled, repaired and reinstalled. The VFD is bypassed in a few seconds, while other types of speed control and its applications may be down for hours or even weeks.

4. Multi-motor control

In theory, a single VFD has the ability to control multiple motors. Other types of speed control cannot provide this possibility. The smaller physical size and lower initial cost of the VFD system are additional advantages.

5. Reduce system maintenance

The use of VFD significantly reduces the maintenance of the entire system. This is especially suitable for mechanical design systems such as eddy current clutches and variable pitch bale applications. VFD helps reduce the wear of belts, pulleys, gearboxes and couplings. All of these usually cause serious maintenance problems due to wear caused by very corrosive or other harsh materials.

The VFD does not turn the motor on and off, which is common in other processes. The VFD just slows down the motor and load in order to strictly follow the specifications. By eliminating the cyclic process, the VFD can eliminate troublesome surges and torque pulsations in the entire operating system.

Disadvantages of variable frequency drives

1. Initial cost

The initial cost of a VFD is usually higher than other variable speed controls. In fact, the initial cost is usually the main obstacle for process plants wishing to install a VFD. However, the basic energy-saving investment recovery time and process control enhancements of these VFDs are not just about the rationality of investment. There is one exception; if the average throttle speed requirement for a given application is low, between 90%-100%, the return is usually not significant. As a general rule, the estimated maximum return interval of 2 1/2 years will limit the purchase of VFDs.

2. Maintenance skill group

Objections to the purchase of solid-state design equipment usually come from maintenance personnel.

For experienced maintenance workers, the mechanical device will obviously not cause diagnosis or other problems. A cursory inspection is enough to see if and why the equipment is malfunctioning. Like any solid state device, VFD requires special troubleshooting practices and theoretical knowledge. The diagnostic capability of VFD is significantly improved. This requires additional, usually perennial training for maintenance personnel who are not familiar with solid-state design technology.

3. Low speed overheating

For constant torque applications, the motor may overheat during low speed operation. Regardless of the motor's operating speed, a constant torque load will consume the same current. This can cause problems at extremely low speeds because the VFD reduces the motor frequency to reduce the motor speed. If the motor generates high heat when running at low speeds, it will cause overheating.

According to experience, a fully-loaded motor with Class B insulation running at 50% of the rated speed under a constant torque load will not overheat. If the motor runs continuously below 50% speed, it will overheat. Basically, the speed of a fully loaded motor with class F insulation can be reduced to about 20% of the speed without overheating. The lower the continuous running speed is below the motor's hot spot, the more the motor and VFD must be derated.

4. Output harmonics

  The output waveform generated by the VFD is a non-linear waveform. This waveform produces harmonics in the motor. Harmonics are multiples of the fundamental frequency and current components. The current component generates heat in the motor. According to experience, compared to the same motor running on the sinusoidal waveform of the power line, the heat generated by the VFD in the motor increases by 5% to 8%. The solution to this problem is to use class F insulation, frequency converter rated motor.

5. Induced harmonics-distortion and line notch

VFD is a non-linear load, it will cause harmonics of the power line. The two aspects of harmonics are distortion and wire notch. Distortion is the result of the non-sinusoidal waveform produced by the VFD. This is used to draw current from the power line in the form of non-sinusoidal pulses.

 The line notch is caused by the VFD with SCR rectifier. When the SCR fires continuously at a specific point on the AC waveform, the harmonics will include switching back to the power line.

  These can severely distort the power cord and, if not properly protected, may hinder the operation of other devices on the power cord.

 All VFDs with silicon controlled rectifiers (including AC and DC) should include an isolation transformer or a line reactor at the input of the VFD to protect the power supply from excessive distortion.

[littlecat0520]

Basic theoretical knowledge of inverter

For more than 20 years, frequency converters (VFD, also known as variable speed drives-VSD) have been used in various applications. These applications include single-motor driven pumps, fans and compressors, and highly complex multi-drive machines. (This article includes the types of VFD, the advantages and disadvantages of VFD as a tutorial)

The function of the VFD is to adjust the motor speed to better meet the requirements of the drive load. The result is better process control and reduced energy consumption. The VFD system is quite expensive, but provides excellent control over plant operations. In most cases, the consequent reduction in energy costs and installation of VFDs are sufficient to offset (if not fully paid for) the high initial costs.

The VFD converts AC power from the input power source into DC voltage. The VFD may also include a control mechanism through which it communicates with the motor and the driven load remotely.

The control mechanism facilitates the connection of electronic equipment to monitor load speed, start and stop motors, and perform various other functions to more effectively meet process requirements.

Variable frequency drive type

There are currently three different VFD design types on the market. In theory, the main difference between these VFDs lies in their rectification type that converts AC power to DC power.

The most common centrifugal load applications using frequency converters are pumps, fans and compressors. The most common constant torque load applications using VFD are positive displacement pumps, gear pumps, reciprocating pumps, conveyors, extruders, extruder cutter cutters, mixers and reciprocating compressors. The main considerations when choosing a VFD are:

The nature, cost, and operating environment of the application.

VFD has many basic uses, as a special process control, not common in other types of variable speed control. When energy saving is the main goal, VFD is best suited for centrifugal loads. Due to its flexibility in automatic process control systems, VFDs are also often applied to constant torque loads. VFD is very sensitive to applications, so the compatibility of applications must be thoroughly analyzed before choosing a VFD.

I. Voltage source inverter (VSI) frequency converter

VSI or variable source inverter is the earliest solid state VFD. Because of the voltage sent to the motor, it is sometimes referred to as a "six-step" drive.

The operation of the variable source inverter is relatively simple. Basically, the AC input voltage and frequency are converted to DC by the rectifier, and then converted back to AC through the inverter part to generate the required voltage and frequency to meet the voltage ratio per Hz of the VFD output.

 The advantages of VSI include good speed range, multi-motor control of a single unit, and simple regulator design.

Some disadvantages include:

As the speed decreases, the power factor decreases, induces harmonics, and directly starts/stops the action.

If you carefully observe the displayed waveform, you can see how the "six-step" power causes the cogging effect.

II. Current source inverter (CSI) frequency converter

Current source inverters, also known as current-fed inverters, behave like constant current generators, producing almost square wave currents. Due to its simplicity, regenerative capacity, reliability and low cost, current source inverters are used instead of variable source inverters for large VFDs of approximately 200 horsepower.

Although more robust and reliable than VSI, CSI has a poorer power factor at low speeds and is not suitable for multi-motor operation. Another disadvantage of CSI is the "cogging", jerky start/stop motion or impulse axis during operation. Careful inspection of the CSI output voltage waveform can see how this happens.

III. Pulse width modulation (PWM) inverter

This type of VFD's unique method of creating a variable voltage gave the PWM VFD a name. Pulse width modulation or PWM VFD can provide constant voltage hertz ratio, wireless circuit notch and motor very stable current input.

The pulse width modulation converter part uses a diode bridge to rectify AC power instead of an SCR bridge. Since the input of the inverter section is constant, the inverter controls the voltage and frequency. The semiconductor switching mode is used to convert DC power to AC output. These semiconductors may be transistors, GTO or SCR.

Basically, the main advantages of using pulse width modulation instead of voltage or current inverters are high efficiency, constant power factor, regardless of speed and no cogging issues.

Other advantages include wide speed range, open circuit protection and multi-motor operation.

 In terms of disadvantages, PWM requires additional hardware to realize the line regeneration capability, the equipment is more complicated, and some PWM units will produce obvious audible noise.

Advantages of variable frequency drives

VFD realizes the most common motor in the industry, the standard squirrel cage NEMA B induction motor. Using standard motors means that VFD is not only suitable for new applications, but also for retrofitting old existing motors. All types of AC speed controllers are compatible with standard motors.

In several respects, VFD contrasts sharply with other variable speed controls. The main reasons that VFD is more ideal than other types of variable speed control are: energy saving, improved process control, reduced system maintenance, bypass capability and multi-motor control.

1. Energy saving

VFD is by far the most effective type of speed control, especially when used with centrifugal pumps and fans. When applying VFD to centrifugal pumps or fans, the load characteristics are restricted by the "law of affinity". These laws state that speed is proportional to current. Torque is proportional to the square of the speed change, and horsepower is proportional to the cube of the speed change.

When plotting the horsepower curve, it can be seen that when the speed decreases, the horsepower required at a given speed drops very quickly. The horsepower requirements of other types of speed control will also be reduced at reduced speeds, but not lower than VFD.

The difference in horsepower requirements at a given speed between a VFD and any other type of variable speed control is that the VFD provides greater energy savings. This is one of the basic advantages of VFD.

The inherent characteristic of AC VFD is that it acts like a step-down starter. In other words, it will limit the amount of inrush current. A motor started across the line will draw about 600% of the inrush current. The VFD limits the inrush current to 150% of the maximum value. The power company will provide inrush current when starting the motor. This is called the demand cost. Limiting the amount of inrush current in large motors can save money by reducing demand costs.

2. Improve process control

One goal of most factories is to automate their processes. The key aspect of automation is better communication between plant instruments. AC VFD is a solid-state device that is very suitable for process control networks. These VFDs receive process control signal inputs for start/stop, speed control and output signals. Then the signal is transmitted to the DCS system, PLC system or back to the personal computer. Other types of speed control are usually limited (if not completely absent) by these interface capabilities.

3. Bypass capability

When a critical application requires a backup control device, it is easy to bypass the VFD. This VFD bypass starter in parallel with the VFD allows the bypass mode to be completed in a few seconds. Other types of variable speed control are physically coupled with the motor and load. Whenever the speed control device fails, it must be decoupled, repaired and reinstalled. The VFD is bypassed in a few seconds, while other types of speed control and its applications may be down for hours or even weeks.

4. Multi-motor control

In theory, a single VFD has the ability to control multiple motors. Other types of speed control cannot provide this possibility. The smaller physical size and lower initial cost of the VFD system are additional advantages.

5. Reduce system maintenance

The use of VFD significantly reduces the maintenance of the entire system. This is especially suitable for mechanical design systems such as eddy current clutches and variable pitch bale applications. VFD helps reduce the wear of belts, pulleys, gearboxes and couplings. All of these usually cause serious maintenance problems due to wear caused by very corrosive or other harsh materials.

The VFD does not turn the motor on and off, which is common in other processes. The VFD just slows down the motor and load in order to strictly follow the specifications. By eliminating the cyclic process, the VFD can eliminate troublesome surges and torque pulsations in the entire operating system.

Disadvantages of variable frequency drives

1. Initial cost

The initial cost of a VFD is usually higher than other variable speed controls. In fact, the initial cost is usually the main obstacle for process plants wishing to install a VFD. However, the basic energy-saving investment recovery time and process control enhancements of these VFDs are not just about the rationality of investment. There is one exception; if the average throttle speed requirement for a given application is low, between 90%-100%, the return is usually not significant. As a general rule, the estimated maximum return interval of 2 1/2 years will limit the purchase of VFDs.

2. Maintenance skill group

Objections to the purchase of solid-state design equipment usually come from maintenance personnel.

For experienced maintenance workers, the mechanical device will obviously not cause diagnosis or other problems. A cursory inspection is enough to see if and why the equipment is malfunctioning. Like any solid state device, VFD requires special troubleshooting practices and theoretical knowledge. The diagnostic capability of VFD is significantly improved. This requires additional, usually perennial training for maintenance personnel who are not familiar with solid-state design technology.

3. Low speed overheating

For constant torque applications, the motor may overheat during low speed operation. Regardless of the motor's operating speed, a constant torque load will consume the same current. This can cause problems at extremely low speeds because the VFD reduces the motor frequency to reduce the motor speed. If the motor generates high heat when running at low speeds, it will cause overheating.

According to experience, a fully-loaded motor with Class B insulation running at 50% of the rated speed under a constant torque load will not overheat. If the motor runs continuously below 50% speed, it will overheat. Basically, the speed of a fully loaded motor with class F insulation can be reduced to about 20% of the speed without overheating. The lower the continuous running speed is below the motor's hot spot, the more the motor and VFD must be derated.

4. Output harmonics

  The output waveform generated by the VFD is a non-linear waveform. This waveform produces harmonics in the motor. Harmonics are multiples of the fundamental frequency and current components. The current component generates heat in the motor. According to experience, compared to the same motor running on the sinusoidal waveform of the power line, the heat generated by the VFD in the motor increases by 5% to 8%. The solution to this problem is to use class F insulation, frequency converter rated motor.

5. Induced harmonics-distortion and line notch

VFD is a non-linear load, it will cause harmonics of the power line. The two aspects of harmonics are distortion and wire notch. Distortion is the result of the non-sinusoidal waveform produced by the VFD. This is used to draw current from the power line in the form of non-sinusoidal pulses.

 The line notch is caused by the VFD with SCR rectifier. When the SCR fires continuously at a specific point on the AC waveform, the harmonics will include switching back to the power line.

  These can severely distort the power cord and, if not properly protected, may hinder the operation of other devices on the power cord.

 All VFDs with silicon controlled rectifiers (including AC and DC) should include an isolation transformer or a line reactor at the input of the VFD to protect the power supply from excessive distortion.