#Unified Computing System

[shalvis]

Xenoblade 1 is the best game like ever fucking made and it has two of the most dogshit sequels ever fucking made

[phonesuite]

Hotel benefits from cloud-enabled enterprise software, as they can access their reservations or hotel services quickly and securely. Hotel owners benefit from integrating PhoneSuite Voiceware Enterprise Software with the cloud because it offers a scalable solution. Read More...

[dclessonsonline]

Mastering Cisco UCS with DCLessons: The Ultimate Training for Cloud and Networking Engineers

The digital transformation era demands that IT professionals remain on the cutting edge, particularly in data center and cloud technologies. Cisco’s Unified Computing System (UCS) is a leading solution that integrates computing, networking, and storage resources to enhance performance, reduce complexity, and increase scalability. For cloud and networking engineers, mastering Cisco UCS is not just an advantage — it’s a necessity. DCLessons offers a comprehensive online training program tailored to meet the growing needs of IT professionals in this rapidly evolving landscape.

Why Cisco UCS?

Cisco UCS is a powerful data center architecture that unifies compute, network, and storage access into a single integrated system. This system helps to reduce the complexity of traditional architectures by simplifying management and deployment processes, which in turn enhances efficiency and lowers operational costs. With UCS, organizations can manage thousands of servers with ease, allowing for faster deployment of applications and services. The unique design of Cisco UCS helps businesses scale seamlessly while maintaining high levels of performance and reliability.

The Importance of Cisco UCS Training

For IT professionals, staying updated with the latest technologies is crucial. Cisco UCS training equips you with the necessary skills to manage and optimize this cutting-edge infrastructure. By mastering UCS, you gain the ability to design, implement, and manage a unified data center, making you an invaluable asset to any organization.

The training at DCLessons is designed to provide both theoretical knowledge and practical experience. Whether you are new to the field or an experienced professional, the Cisco UCS course offered by DCLessons will guide you through every aspect of the UCS platform.

Course Overview

DCLessons’ Cisco UCS course is structured to cover all aspects of UCS, from basic to advanced levels. Here’s what you can expect:

Introduction to Cisco UCS Architecture:

Understand the components and architecture of Cisco UCS, including fabric interconnects, blade servers, and unified I/O.

Learn about the role of Cisco UCS Manager and its importance in managing UCS components.

Configuring Cisco UCS:

Gain hands-on experience with configuring Cisco UCS components, including the creation and management of service profiles.

Explore advanced configurations, such as network and storage integration, that optimize UCS performance.

Cisco UCS Management:

Learn how to manage and monitor UCS environments using Cisco UCS Manager.

Dive into best practices for maintaining and troubleshooting UCS systems.

Advanced Features and Integration:

Explore the integration of Cisco UCS with other Cisco products, such as Cisco Nexus switches and storage arrays.

Understand how UCS supports virtualization technologies and cloud environments, making it ideal for modern data centers.

Cisco UCS Labs

DCLessons provides practical labs that allow you to apply the knowledge gained during the course. These labs simulate real-world scenarios, enabling you to practice UCS deployment, configuration, and management tasks. This hands-on experience is critical for reinforcing the theoretical concepts covered in the course and preparing you for real-world applications.

Why Choose DCLessons?

DCLessons is a premier online training portal that offers a wide range of courses for cloud and networking engineers. The Cisco UCS course is designed by industry experts who bring real-world experience and insights into the training. Here’s what sets DCLessons apart:

1. Comprehensive Course Content: The course covers every aspect of Cisco UCS, ensuring you gain a thorough understanding of the platform.

2. Practical Labs: The inclusion of hands-on labs provides a practical learning experience that is crucial for mastering UCS.

3. Flexible Learning Options: With monthly, half-yearly, and yearly membership plans, you can choose a learning schedule that fits your lifestyle.

4. Expert Instructors: Learn from industry professionals with extensive experience in Cisco UCS and data center technologies.

Conclusion

Cisco UCS is a cornerstone technology for modern data centers, and mastering it can significantly advance your career. DCLessons offers a comprehensive and practical training program that prepares you to excel in deploying and managing Cisco UCS environments. By enrolling in the Cisco UCS course at DCLessons, you not only gain valuable skills but also position yourself as a leader in the IT industry. Visit DCLessons today to start your journey toward becoming a Cisco UCS expert.

For more information about Cisco Unified Computing System online training please visit the website.

[spocks-kaathyra]

thoughts about the Cardassian writing system

I've thinking about the Cardassian script as shown on screen and in beta canon and such and like. Is it just me or would it be very difficult to write by hand?? Like.

I traced some of this image for a recent drawing I did and like. The varying line thicknesses?? The little rectangular holes?? It's not at all intuitive to write by hand. Even if you imagine, like, a different writing implement—I suppose a chisel-tip pen would work better—it still seems like it wasn't meant to be handwritten. Which has a few possible explanations.

Like, maybe it's just a fancy font for computers, and handwritten text looks a little different. Times New Roman isn't very easily written by hand either, right? Maybe the line thickness differences are just decorative, and it's totally possible to convey the same orthographic information with the two line thicknesses of a chisel-tip pen, or with no variation in line thickness at all.

A more interesting explanation, though, and the one I thought of first, is that this writing system was never designed to be handwritten. This is a writing system developed in Cardassia's digital age. Maybe the original Cardassian script didn’t digitize well, so they invented a new one specifically for digital use? Like, when they invented coding, they realized that their writing system didn’t work very well for that purpose. I know next to nothing about coding, but I cannot imagine doing it using Chinese characters. So maybe they came up with a new writing system that worked well for that purpose, and when computer use became widespread, they stuck with it. 

Or maybe the script was invented for political reasons! Maybe Cardassia was already fairly technologically advanced when the Cardassian Union was formed, and, to reinforce a cohesive national identity, they developed a new standardized national writing system. Like, y'know, the First Emperor of Qin standardizing hanzi when he unified China, or that Korean king inventing hangul. Except that at this point in Cardassian history, all official records were digital and typing was a lot more common than handwriting, so the new script was designed to be typed and not written. Of course, this reform would be slower to reach the more rural parts of Cardassia, and even in a technologically advanced society, there are people who don't have access to that technology. But I imagine the government would be big on infrastructure and education, and would make sure all good Cardassian citizens become literate. And old regional scripts would stop being taught in schools and be phased out of digital use and all the kids would grow up learning the digital script.

Which is good for the totalitarian government! Imagine you can only write digitally. On computers. That the government can monitor. If you, like, write a physical letter and send it to someone, then it's possible for the contents to stay totally private. But if you send an email, it can be very easily intercepted. Especially if the government is controlling which computers can be manufactured and sold, and what software is in widespread use, etc. 

AND. Historical documents are now only readable for scholars. Remember that Korean king that invented hangul? Before him, Korea used to use Chinese characters too. And don't get me wrong, hangul is a genius writing system! It fits the Korean language so much better than Chinese characters did! It increased literacy at incredible rates! But by switching writing systems, they broke that historical link. The average literate Chinese person can read texts that are thousands of years old. The average literate Korean person can't. They'd have to specifically study that field, learn a whole new writing system. So with the new generation of Cardassian youths unable to read historical texts, it's much easier for the government to revise history. The primary source documents are in a script that most people can't read. You just trust the translation they teach you in school. In ASIT it's literally a crucial plot point that the Cardassian government revised history! Wouldn't it make it soooo much easier for them if only very few people can actually read the historical accounts of what happened.

I guess I am thinking of this like Chinese characters. Like, all the different Chinese "dialects" being written with hanzi, even though otherwise they could barely be considered the same language. And even non-Sinitic languages that historically adopted hanzi, like Japanese and Korean and Vietnamese. Which worked because hanzi is a logography—it encodes meaning, not sound, so the same word in different languages can be written the same. It didn’t work well! Nowadays, Japanese has made significant modifications and Korean has invented a new writing system entirely and Vietnamese has adapted a different foreign writing system, because while hanzi could write their languages, it didn’t do a very good job at it. But the Cardassian government probably cares more about assimilation and national unity than making things easier for speakers of minority languages. So, Cardassia used to have different cultures with different languages, like the Hebitians, and maybe instead of the Union forcing everyone to start speaking the same language, they just made everyone use the same writing system. Though that does seem less likely than them enforcing a standard language like the Federation does. Maybe they enforce a standard language, and invent the new writing system to increase literacy for people who are newly learning it.

And I can imagine it being a kind of purely digital language for some people? Like if you’re living on a colonized planet lightyears away from Cardassia Prime and you never have to speak Cardassian, but your computer’s interface is in Cardassian and if you go online then everyone there uses Cardassian. Like people irl who participate in the anglophone internet but don’t really use English in person because they don’t live in an anglophone country. Except if English were a logographic writing system that you could use to write your own language. And you can’t handwrite it, if for whatever reason you wanted to. Almost a similar idea to a liturgical language? Like, it’s only used in specific contexts and not really in daily life. In daily life you’d still speak your own language, and maybe even handwrite it when needed. I think old writing systems would survive even closer to the imperial core (does it make sense to call it that?), though the government would discourage it. I imagine there’d be a revival movement after the Fire, not only because of the cultural shift away from the old totalitarian Cardassia, but because people realize the importance of having a written communication system that doesn’t rely on everyone having a padd and electricity and wifi.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The real AI fight

Tonight (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Last week's spectacular OpenAI soap-opera hijacked the attention of millions of normal, productive people and nonsensually crammed them full of the fine details of the debate between "Effective Altruism" (doomers) and "Effective Accelerationism" (AKA e/acc), a genuinely absurd debate that was allegedly at the center of the drama.

Very broadly speaking: the Effective Altruists are doomers, who believe that Large Language Models (AKA "spicy autocomplete") will someday become so advanced that it could wake up and annihilate or enslave the human race. To prevent this, we need to employ "AI Safety" – measures that will turn superintelligence into a servant or a partner, nor an adversary.

Contrast this with the Effective Accelerationists, who also believe that LLMs will someday become superintelligences with the potential to annihilate or enslave humanity – but they nevertheless advocate for faster AI development, with fewer "safety" measures, in order to produce an "upward spiral" in the "techno-capital machine."

Once-and-future OpenAI CEO Altman is said to be an accelerationists who was forced out of the company by the Altruists, who were subsequently bested, ousted, and replaced by Larry fucking Summers. This, we're told, is the ideological battle over AI: should cautiously progress our LLMs into superintelligences with safety in mind, or go full speed ahead and trust to market forces to tame and harness the superintelligences to come?

This "AI debate" is pretty stupid, proceeding as it does from the foregone conclusion that adding compute power and data to the next-word-predictor program will eventually create a conscious being, which will then inevitably become a superbeing. This is a proposition akin to the idea that if we keep breeding faster and faster horses, we'll get a locomotive:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

As Molly White writes, this isn't much of a debate. The "two sides" of this debate are as similar as Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Yes, they're arrayed against each other in battle, so furious with each other that they're tearing their hair out. But for people who don't take any of this mystical nonsense about spontaneous consciousness arising from applied statistics seriously, these two sides are nearly indistinguishable, sharing as they do this extremely weird belief. The fact that they've split into warring factions on its particulars is less important than their unified belief in the certain coming of the paperclip-maximizing apocalypse:

https://newsletter.mollywhite.net/p/effective-obfuscation

White points out that there's another, much more distinct side in this AI debate – as different and distant from Dee and Dum as a Beamish Boy and a Jabberwork. This is the side of AI Ethics – the side that worries about "today’s issues of ghost labor, algorithmic bias, and erosion of the rights of artists and others." As White says, shifting the debate to existential risk from a future, hypothetical superintelligence "is incredibly convenient for the powerful individuals and companies who stand to profit from AI."

After all, both sides plan to make money selling AI tools to corporations, whose track record in deploying algorithmic "decision support" systems and other AI-based automation is pretty poor – like the claims-evaluation engine that Cigna uses to deny insurance claims:

https://www.propublica.org/article/cigna-pxdx-medical-health-insurance-rejection-claims

On a graph that plots the various positions on AI, the two groups of weirdos who disagree about how to create the inevitable superintelligence are effectively standing on the same spot, and the people who worry about the actual way that AI harms actual people right now are about a million miles away from that spot.

There's that old programmer joke, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand binary and those who don't." But of course, that joke could just as well be, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't understand either":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/11/the-ten-types-of-people/

What's more, the joke could be, "there are 10 kinds of people, those who understand hexadecenary, those who understand pentadecenary, those who understand tetradecenary [und so weiter] those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't." That is to say, a "polarized" debate often has people who hold positions so far from the ones everyone is talking about that those belligerents' concerns are basically indistinguishable from one another.

The act of identifying these distant positions is a radical opening up of possibilities. Take the indigenous philosopher chief Red Jacket's response to the Christian missionaries who sought permission to proselytize to Red Jacket's people:

https://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5790/

Red Jacket's whole rebuttal is a superb dunk, but it gets especially interesting where he points to the sectarian differences among Christians as evidence against the missionary's claim to having a single true faith, and in favor of the idea that his own people's traditional faith could be co-equal among Christian doctrines.

The split that White identifies isn't a split about whether AI tools can be useful. Plenty of us AI skeptics are happy to stipulate that there are good uses for AI. For example, I'm 100% in favor of the Human Rights Data Analysis Group using an LLM to classify and extract information from the Innocence Project New Orleans' wrongful conviction case files:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

Automating "extracting officer information from documents – specifically, the officer's name and the role the officer played in the wrongful conviction" was a key step to freeing innocent people from prison, and an LLM allowed HRDAG – a tiny, cash-strapped, excellent nonprofit – to make a giant leap forward in a vital project. I'm a donor to HRDAG and you should donate to them too:

https://hrdag.networkforgood.com/

Good data-analysis is key to addressing many of our thorniest, most pressing problems. As Ben Goldacre recounts in his inaugural Oxford lecture, it is both possible and desirable to build ethical, privacy-preserving systems for analyzing the most sensitive personal data (NHS patient records) that yield scores of solid, ground-breaking medical and scientific insights:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-eaV8SWdjQ

The difference between this kind of work – HRDAG's exoneration work and Goldacre's medical research – and the approach that OpenAI and its competitors take boils down to how they treat humans. The former treats all humans as worthy of respect and consideration. The latter treats humans as instruments – for profit in the short term, and for creating a hypothetical superintelligence in the (very) long term.

As Terry Pratchett's Granny Weatherwax reminds us, this is the root of all sin: "sin is when you treat people like things":

https://brer-powerofbabel.blogspot.com/2009/02/granny-weatherwax-on-sin-favorite.html

So much of the criticism of AI misses this distinction – instead, this criticism starts by accepting the self-serving marketing claim of the "AI safety" crowd – that their software is on the verge of becoming self-aware, and is thus valuable, a good investment, and a good product to purchase. This is Lee Vinsel's "Criti-Hype": "taking press releases from startups and covering them with hellscapes":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Criti-hype and AI were made for each other. Emily M Bender is a tireless cataloger of criti-hypeists, like the newspaper reporters who breathlessly repeat " completely unsubstantiated claims (marketing)…sourced to Altman":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464030855880383

Bender, like White, is at pains to point out that the real debate isn't doomers vs accelerationists. That's just "billionaires throwing money at the hope of bringing about the speculative fiction stories they grew up reading – and philosophers and others feeling important by dressing these same silly ideas up in fancy words":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464024432217299

All of this is just a distraction from real and important scientific questions about how (and whether) to make automation tools that steer clear of Granny Weatherwax's sin of "treating people like things." Bender – a computational linguist – isn't a reactionary who hates automation for its own sake. On Mystery AI Hype Theater 3000 – the excellent podcast she co-hosts with Alex Hanna – there is a machine-generated transcript:

https://www.buzzsprout.com/2126417

There is a serious, meaty debate to be had about the costs and possibilities of different forms of automation. But the superintelligence true-believers and their criti-hyping critics keep dragging us away from these important questions and into fanciful and pointless discussions of whether and how to appease the godlike computers we will create when we disassemble the solar system and turn it into computronium.

The question of machine intelligence isn't intrinsically unserious. As a materialist, I believe that whatever makes me "me" is the result of the physics and chemistry of processes inside and around my body. My disbelief in the existence of a soul means that I'm prepared to think that it might be possible for something made by humans to replicate something like whatever process makes me "me."

Ironically, the AI doomers and accelerationists claim that they, too, are materialists – and that's why they're so consumed with the idea of machine superintelligence. But it's precisely because I'm a materialist that I understand these hypotheticals about self-aware software are less important and less urgent than the material lives of people today.

It's because I'm a materialist that my primary concerns about AI are things like the climate impact of AI data-centers and the human impact of biased, opaque, incompetent and unfit algorithmic systems – not science fiction-inspired, self-induced panics over the human race being enslaved by our robot overlords.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[vax-official]

Back in an era when computers were the size of a room and only government agencies and large companies could afford to have one, IBM was king of the mainframes. But they had a lineup of several incompatible computers, some intended for scientific uses (the IBM 7090/7094), others were for commercial uses (the IBM 7080 and IBM 7010). IBM wanted to have a single unified architecture so that software could be exchanged between them and customers could upgrade from cheaper, lower powered machines to more higher powered ones.

What came out of it was the IBM System/360 line of mainframes (referring to the concept of "360 degrees" making up a circle) that ended up being the dominant mainframe computer for decades to come, it got cloned by competitors, and its descendants are still being produced to this day.

The IBM System/360 had many features that since then became foundational for modern computing.

An entirely binary number system. While some computers (such as the IBM 7090) used a binary system, others operated exclusively in decimal mode, encoded using binary coded decimals using 4 bits for each digit (such as the IBM 7080 and IBM 7010). Others went a step further and were only capable of storing decimal digits 0 to 9 (like the IBM 7070).

To store textual information, each character was stored in 8 bits, establishing the dominance of 8 bit bytes. Previous systems would typically use 6 bits to store text, and would usually only enable a single case of letters. The IBM 7070 didn't provide access to bits and characters were stored in 2 decimal digits. It was also one of the first machines to support the then new ASCII standard, although notably it provided much better support for IBM's proprietary EBCDIC encodings which came to dominate mainframe computing.

Even though it was a 32-bit system, memory was byte addressed. Previous systems would access memory one word at a time (for the IBM 7090, this was 36 bits per word, for the IBM 7010, this was 10 digits plus a sign), or had variable length words and accessed them through their last digits (IBM 7080 and IBM 7010). The IBM System/360 however accessed 32-bit words as 4 bytes by their lowest address byte.

Two's complement arithmetic. Previous machines (even the binary IBM 7090) would encode numbers as sign/magnitude pairs, so for example -3 would be encoded identically to 3 except for the sign bit. Two's complement encoding, now the standard in modern computers, makes it much easier to handle signed arithmetic, by storing -3 as a large power of 2 minus 3.

[classpectanon]

Understanding Skaia's Omniscience

What Exactly Does Omniscience Mean in This Context?

In the context of Homestuck, omniscience refers to the ability to know everything within the universe, including all possible events and outcomes. Skaia, as an omniscient entity, possesses complete knowledge of all timelines, potential actions, and their consequences. This knowledge is not acquired through sequential thought processes but exists as a unified, simultaneous understanding of the entire scope of the universe.

Unlike typical human understanding, which processes information linearly (one event leading to another), Skaia's omniscience encompasses all possible realities at once. This means Skaia knows every possible outcome of every possible action, including those that never come to pass. However, it is important to note that while Skaia is omniscient, it is not omnipotent. It cannot directly alter events but can influence them indirectly by changing the spatiotemporal coordinates of meteors it redirects.

Skaia's intelligence is nonhuman, meaning it does not process information or make decisions in a way that humans do. This non-linearity in thought means Skaia doesn't "think" sequentially. Instead, it possesses all knowledge simultaneously, akin to a field—a pervasive presence of potential knowledge.

Skaia can be seen as the singularity form of Paradox Space, a field encompassing all potential events and outcomes. While Paradox Space represents the broader field, Skaia is the concentrated point of omniscience within this field. Or they're indistinguishable, it doesn't matter that much.

Thought Experiments Related to Omniscience

To further explore the implications of omniscience, let's consider some common thought experiments and how they relate to Skaia:

The Omniscient Observer Paradox

If Skaia knows everything, does it include the thoughts and actions of every character? Does this negate free will? In Homestuck, characters operate under a deterministic framework until the narrative's conclusion. Skaia's knowledge encompasses all possible actions and outcomes, suggesting that characters' choices are part of a larger predetermined system.

The Infinite Regression Problem

Can Skaia simulate its own reality infinitely? Skaia's nature transcends typical computational analogies. It doesn't simulate events sequentially but exists as a field of infinite knowledge. This sidesteps the problem of infinite regression, where a system would need to simulate itself endlessly.

The Limits of Omniscience

Is there anything Skaia doesn't know? By definition, Skaia's omniscience means it knows everything within its universe. However, its lack of omnipotence introduces a limitation: it cannot change everything it knows. It can only act through meteor redirection, highlighting a boundary between knowledge and power.

Q&A on Skaia's Omniscience

Q: What does it mean for Skaia to be omniscient but not omnipotent?

A: Omniscience refers to the ability to know everything, including all possible events and outcomes. Omnipotence, on the other hand, is the ability to do anything. Skaia's omniscience allows it to understand every potential event and its consequences, but it can only act by adjusting the trajectories of meteors, thus influencing events indirectly.

Q: How does Skaia's nonhuman intelligence differ from human intelligence?

A: Human intelligence typically involves linear thought processes, where ideas and decisions follow a sequential order. Skaia, however, exists outside of this linear framework. Its intelligence is more like a field, akin to gravity, where all knowledge and outcomes are known simultaneously without a sequential thought process.

Q: How do Skaia and Paradox Space relate to each other?

A: Paradox Space can be understood as the overarching field of all possible timelines and events. Skaia, within this context, acts as the singularity (like a black hole)—a concentrated point where all this knowledge converges. Together, they form a comprehensive system of omniscience in the Homestuck universe.

Q: How does Skaia's omniscience affect the narrative structure of Homestuck?

A: Skaia's omniscience ensures that only significant timelines persist, preventing paradoxes and maintaining narrative coherence.

Q: Can Skaia's omniscience be considered a form of predestination?

A: Yes, Skaia's omniscience can be seen as a form of predestination. Since it knows all possible outcomes and prunes timelines to prevent paradoxes, the events that occur are part of a predetermined structure that Skaia maintains.

Q: Does Skaia's omniscience extend beyond the universe of Homestuck?

A: Theoretically, yes. While it can be assumed that Skaia is only capable of understanding information within its own schema, this does not preclude the possibility of Skaia being able to simulate the concept of observers. After all, omniscience means OMNIscience. It knows everything. It's unintuitive in many of the ways that other forms of infinity are.

thx 4 reading

[multiplicationdivision]

Abott Inc.

The manufacturing plant was abuzz with Tony Abott

Two of him handled a repair on the bottom floor, replacing a slipped wheel in record time. Another watched, ready to jump into motion at any evidence of a problem. Six others manned the quality checks, spouting off curses and shooting the shit as their muscle memory handled all the heavy lifting of searching for faults. Two were out to get lunch, carrying in tow the same burger order for a factory’s worth of the same exact man.

Only the forewoman was unique, a beautiful buff woman who acted to make sure that their unified state of mind never got them in trouble. She kept them out of trouble just as a single Tony kept the factory full of identical copies of her safe in turn.

It was good being Tony.

Years of education in all manners of factory positions, skill in any task that this facility could need. A physique built by an equal time training practically, nothing gained from the gym. Each muscle was built for practicality and each of him could handle a world of weight just on his own.  

This body had once been a man named Braedon. He’d been college educated in computer sciences, a prodigy of his field. He could code anything given a couple hours alone, so long as he had coffee and some good junk food. He was set for a comfy corporate throne after a few years on the bottom, rising high and fast.

It had been boring.

Years of brutal education gave way to months spent in bureaucracy, unable to complete a task that would’ve taken minutes without weeks of back and forth with incompetent bosses. Emails that took longer to write than the quick line of code that would fix the issue.

Braedon loved the feeling of a job well done. Reclining back as the circuits ran perfectly and the tasks played out like a line of dominos falling one after one.

Corporate was like watching every step of his Rube Goldberg machine get interrupted by a whiney man in a suit named Todd or Larry. Made Braedon want to scream and tear down his perfectly built systems just so he could be the one to fuck it up.

The factory had been his life line.

It had been a simple invoice. A practical job that promised everything he could ask for. No boss criticizing his work at every step, chipping away at his confidence. No choking atmosphere to his work, watched by a hundred people in the building that thought their business degrees gave them insight on system design. Way more money than he ever thought possible for a blue-collar job. More than he was making at the moment in his bland yet expensive cubical.

There was a catch.

Braedon had no experience in anything outside of the digital world. He’d traded his body and health in exchange for his degrees. One couldn’t become as specialized as him without sacrificing the self-care that was so important in the labor required of a factory worker.

The factory knew that, but they had an easy fix.

Tony Abott had interviewed him. The singular original Tony Abott.

He was a prodigy in his own right. The industry wet dream. Ruggedly attractive and overly competent. Charismatic and eager to please.

He’d been honest with Braedon from the start. They had their hands in some strange technology and they needed even stranger candidates. Each selected for their unique physiologies and mental states that would make them perfect for their shared role.

Tony said that he’d been selected for his flexible sense of self and pathological loneliness. He’d been like Braedon, giving up his social life so he could be the best of the best. Was left hollow when he reached that height and started depersonalizing without staring himself in a mirror to remember that he existed.

Braedon had been selected after being profiled as similarly lost. Doctor’s notes demanding he eat anything that wasn’t processed. Caffeine and cigarettes letting him keep up with hundreds of email arguments over a simple fucking project. The gut twisting feeling of watching what that abuse did to his body, stealing away whatever youth was left and replacing it with something tired and boney. The hunger to be anything except for Braedon, who never wanted to be understood by another person as the gaping pit of rage and self-disgust that had taken root in his heart.

They were a match for each other and Braedon hadn’t cared for whatever physiological horror a happier person might see in this deal.

He’d quit his shitty corporate hell the next day and made his goodbyes to whatever people passed for tolerable in those minimalist nightmare hallways. Wished them good luck breathing recirculated air-conditioned smog as he got ready to breath real fucking air.

He’d arrived at his second “interview” a week later, having spent the last days wrapping up affairs and communicating with the labor board. The factory wasn’t doing anything shady and the government had needed to setup Braedon’s paperwork for his new life. Little benefits and tax write off as reward for joining the latest and greatest of industrial innovation. That alongside the mountain of appointments they’d needed to make for new identification as his old ID photos wouldn’t identify him for shit in the following day.

Tony had joined him for this “interview”. Dressed to his best in a soft dress shirt and new jeans. Boots barely broken into and a new watch. A professional shave and tussled hair atop a cap, branded with the company logo. A shining example compared to the loose clothes Braedon had been told to wear, making him look anything but a put together future coworker.

A second set of Tony’s exact outfit lay next to the door, atop a shoebox and a fancy new duplicate watch.

They’d made a toast to brotherhood, those two lonely men. Tony had supplied his favorite beer, cheap piss Budweiser. It went down watery and flat, nothing like the vodka tonics Braedon felt most suited to when he was in an alcoholic mood. The slight burn of it travelled down his throat, soothing yet peppery. It brought a head high like nothing else, feeling as if the golden liquid had flowed into his brain and body before it could even reach his stomach.

Alcohol didn’t feel like this, but this wasn’t exactly Alcohol.

Tony had tried to explain whatever biochemical cocktail was laced into the drink. It was all for the sake of complete transparency, they weren’t in the business of trickery. Something to do with forced recombination and stem cells. Braedon was a highly intelligent man, but there was a reason he’d never dipped into biology. Tony seemed the same, rattling off a scripted explanation that he had probably practiced time and time again to look like he understood what he was saying.

Braedon sipped his beer as Tony attempted small talk. They were very different people. Tony seemed awkward as if he felt judged by every little glance that Braedon gave him. Braedon was used to analyzing a person by now, searching for faults that he could use to his advantage. Braedon had been the kindest person at his old workplace but that had been a low bar and he had still become cruel. Braedon could see every way that Tony felt insecure around anyone but himself, as if he didn’t have every tool at his command to be a juggernaut.

The ichor in the drink flowed through Braedon’s neurons and there was a memory. A kid who wasn’t him being criticized at every turn for jobs he’d sworn he’d done correctly. Credit taken from a pre-teen for perfect machines that could cut production times by half. The same instances over and over, leaving a man desperately trying to prove himself to a system that would use him and give the patent to his boss. That despair and betrayal settled comfortably in the spaces of Braedon’s own memories.

Braedon grit his teeth in subtle rage. His jawline had broadened and his face itched and it felt good in some odd way. Matched that swelling feeling of righteous anger.

The ichor altered how Tony fit in his brain. The insecurity became more and more relatable with every swallow. A memory of the guy’s only partner calling him pathetic, using every shitty doubt Tony had confided to wicked abandon. The breakup replayed in the man’s mind like nothing else, a cacophony of how he was weak and annoying and awful in every way.

Braedon wanted to punch that piece of shit and laugh in their face. Braedon knew to heart what human garbage was and Tony was anything but. Braedon could feel the waves of Tony’s insecurity reach through his mind and falter in the wake of Braedon’s own memories. Braedon wished he could have someone like Tony, over eager to be romantic and prepare for anniversaries. Wished he could inject his own point of view on the guy’s memory of his part love and how jealous and narcissistic they actually were.

The Budweiser began to taste good. Braedon could remember the first time they’d drunk it. A trade school kid picking up the cheapest shit at the gas station on their twenty first, drinking as he carved away at a block of wood deep into the night. The carbonation had made the swill all the more comforting, a bitter spot against the peace of his work station. It tasted like shit, but the good type of shit. Fit him and his sweaty downtime, relaxing as he sculpted pine and oak into art.

At some point their conversation stopped being awkward. The words flowed better and better as Braedon felt understanding coating his mind. Nervous jokes became relatable and the nasty feeling that had sat at home in Braedon’s chest for so long felt like it was shrinking. He found himself chuckling at the stories Tony explained, remembering them in tandem with fresh eyes.

The times Tony had nearly burned down any number of mills and processing facilities. The rampant animals that added chaos to his life, including amongst their diversity a very confused bear and a unfortunately horny moose.

Braedon was crying with laughter as he and Tony pieced together how he’d pranked an old shitty supervisor. Braedon could practically hear that supervisor’s rage as his computer downloaded virus after virus, prompted by a helpful little auto-clicker that Tony had installed one late night after another unpaid bout of overtime.

Tony physically unwound as their conversation went on and the number of empty beer bottles increased. He no longer looked stiff in his new clothes, rather his relaxed muscles filled them out comfortably. His confidence changed him, his smile lighting up the room and his mood infectious.

Braedon hadn’t been gay before this, but a shift in his sexuality had been a part of the deal. Tony’s basic information had been open to him and a little pansexuality felt like a pretty good upgrade to Tony’s own deal.

Braedon could remember all the times Tony had felt wrong in the mirror melding into one. Picking apart himself for looking too old, too awkward and too fake. It was all insane of course, as Braedon could easily dissect. Braedon felt his own mind guide that fragment of Tony in his mind to see what he saw, forcing it to witness Braedon’s own perspective instead of that toxic mindset downloaded into the guy since his father had disowned him.

Braedon could feel all his own shit get digested into the well of personality inside his head. Not destroyed exactly, but reorganized. His own insecurities broken down by the logic of Tony Abott as the logic of Braedon Santoro did the same in turn. Fast tracking therapy with only a couple bottles of booze.

He could feel his own memories of coding alone slot next to Tony’s life of construction. The things that made Tony burned brighter in his mind compared to his own pieces, but they were never devoured. Braedon felt himself begin to lurk behind the soul of the man in front of him, but it wasn’t anything like a mask.

The deal hadn’t been to bury Braedon beneath Tony. Braeden would still be there but the man that Tony was would predominate. Tony would trade him his individuality in exchange for this new self. Braeden would give up his old life in exchange for an equal claim to this new identity.

Braeden became Tony, from inside out as the beer coated his tongue like cold nectar. Felt himself become saturated with the man, siphoning every bit of his personality into his soul, feeling the ichor in his blood tremble as it changed the body to fit the mind.

His scrawny body filled with density, calories from the beer being more than efficiently transformed into muscle fibers and sturdy bones. The tar in his lungs dwindled and he breathed clearly. Tony had never smoked a single day in his life and the man that was once Braeden savored the feeling. Savored the experience of having lived a life with more than microwaved meals, even if that life had its own many faults.

The loose clothing filled, his sweatshirt and sweatpants becoming oversized. He’d taken his shoes off prior to his first drink to Tony’s recommendation. Tony had larger feet than him as well as larger everything. Even his pants fit differently, filled much differently than they were before.

It was strange to no longer identify with a name, but he couldn’t think of himself anymore as Braeden. It didn’t fit anymore, supplanted by the name of the man in front of him. It wasn’t just that man’s name anymore, they shared it now.

They needed to share more than that.

Interviews should never go where they took it, but interviews rarely meddled with identity on such a scale. Tony had more understanding for the man in front of him than anyone else and the call to act on it was irresistible.

It happened when the man that was once Braeden began to strip his clothes off, forgoing the last thing that differentiated him from the other. They’d planned to don him in matching clothes and continue their conversation with the last of the prescripted beers. Head to the facility’s temporary doctor to confirm a success.

Tony had joked that he’d only felt this comfortable with another man once. The new Tony had replied that he knew and the part of Braeden permanently at his core flirted. Some charged comment that made them both blush, something about how it would be easier for them to match if Tony just took off his clothes.

They’d been awkward in it, because how couldn’t someone be awkward masturbating like that. A whole other body added to the scheme, even if that body was one you’d always known. They’d forgotten to remove the clothes of the first Tony entirely, so caught up in the feeling of that lockstep of their shared bodies working as one. Whatever was done would be mimicked in turn, a duet in symmetrical motion.

They’d finished together and the awkwardness dissolved. Both no longer held back by the fear of judgment from the other, when they functioned like two parts of the same being.

They’d gotten dressed together, tying their boots up and pulling their shirts on. An entirely new outfit that both Tonys reveled in without the presence of strangers making them second guess it. The one that was still Braeden in memory could feel the twist of amusement at their preening, his heart racing as he looked at his new twin. Braeden had never strongly cared for his appearance, but the sensation of feeling good in his new boots and new jeans was exhilarating compared to the apathy of before.

They’d headed to the doctor together, excitement in every step. With a clean bill of health and permission to continue on with the next man the following day, they were a force of nature.

One became two. Two prepared for three to become one. Three identical men lining up identification and licenses for a factory’s worth of them. Buying clothes in mass to handle a platoon of them.

The first Tony became lost in the crowd and it felt good. Most people weren’t cut out to spread their sense of self across so many. Tony seemed built for it, the pressure of being the best dulled to nothing as he became part of the best. Seeing numerous of himselves discover their identity as a group in their work and downtime. Using the memories of the men they once were to build upon what it meant to be Tony Abott.

They’d bring all kinds of folks home and show them what it was like to be with them. Give the few a taste of a whole world of confidence built through reinforcement. Strings became strong when wrapped into a rope and they were a realized person together.

Tony Abott, operating Abott Inc. Alone yet definitely not.

Pictures taken from Construction Bros series by GymDreams on Deviantart.

[queen-susans-revenge]

Been trying to think of some sort of nationally unifying narrative for the U.S. How about this: American democracy is the biggest mech ever built, just a titanic colossus staggering around everywhere, controlled by all of us who vote. We aren't drift compatible, we're just on home computers yelling.

This is obviously a terrible system and we ought to start working out better coordination immediately, but in the meantime, the big robot is about to stomp and FOR GOD'S SAKE PUSH D

[vibratingskull]

I as so excited you open your request.

Can I ask a ThurfianxF!reader based on your Thrawn mate story? I would love if reader was sent to the Chiss Ascendancy by Thrawn (like he knew reader would match with Thurfian by her smell or something)

This will challenge our xenophobic boy, and I'm sure the fact that out of all he gets to meet his "mate" thank to Thrawn, will piss him off more than the fact that the reader is human.

g:xkf;glghogfuhfd THURFIAN MY BELOVED ❤️❤️ My old man ❤️❤️❤️ He would have a heart attack in all honesty 🤣

Beautiful drawing by the talented @thrawns-backrest

Tags : Thurfian is an ass, xenophobia, mate system and culture, attempted assault, Thurfian saves the day (Go King!)

Thurfian lays his head on his hand, scrolling on his comm. He likes to get an idea of the current climate through comms during his rare break times throughout the day to compare the info he receives on his official feed on his computer. It helps him get new points of view and perspectives. 

That also means going through an impressive amount of tabloids. He really should look into how to block these sites on his comm, they are a nuisance and a disgrace to true journalism. He is scrolling through one of them rapidly when the title of an article stops him. 

“Truly cut for the role? Why the Mitth Patriarch’s lack of mate highlights a worrying trend.” 

He remains fixated on that one for a solid minute, completely flabbergasted. His first instinct is to call his lawyer to have that tabloid closed for the affront, but it passes quickly. Instead, he puts his comm down sighing, feeling tiredness washing over him. He passes a hand through his long braided hair, laying his head back against his chair. 

The most painful thing is that that rag is true. All Patriarchs of every family recorded in history with a big H had a mate, no exception ever. Some found them sooner or later in life but none reached his age without a partner sitting with them on the throne. He is quite the exception. 

The shameful exception. 

He feels Thivick disapproving gaze on him during diplomatic dinners with other Patriarch and their mates, the seat next to Thurfian being desperately empty. 

His hand comes to loosen his collar to allow him to breathe better. He closes his eyes, feeling defeated.  

It was not always like that in his life.  

He used to collect lovers back in his youth, potential mates or not, none were safe from his charm. A large collection of Chiss visited his bed when he was a young adult. He shamefully admits that he played potential mates to get access to their intimacy before leaving them when they were no longer fun. Non-potential mates were less difficult, they both knew what they were here for. And then he started his career as a syndic and left dating and playing around in the past to dedicate himself to his career. He, naively he will admit, thought he would meet a new potential mate at work, getting to know each other day by day, falling in love over time, and deciding to mate and unify himself with her, finishing his life at her side. Something simple and uncomplicated. 

Boring to some, sufficient for him. 

But all the women he met were taken, non-compatible, or rejected him. Mates tend to get together young when they can, way younger than he was already back then. He made peace with his situation, choosing to focus on his career and what he could do for the Mitth, becoming a “mateless”, one of those people who failed at settling down with a compatible person in time. Not the most glorious, but he could do with it. 

And all was well. 

Until he became a Patriarch. 

And his situation was brutally rubbed into his face again. 

A Patriarch without a Mate is a failure.  

No matter their results.  

Having a mate is the first step toward respectability in Chiss society, and a Patriarch failing at that task is the subject of gossip and mockery and always on the verge of being overthrown in favor of a more stable individual. It is such an easy insult to throw at him. And he fully deserves it. If he didn’t play so much with potential mates in the past he wouldn’t have his sulfurous reputation of player and heart stabber. Not so many potential mates would have rejected him since then.  

He recalls how he used to modify his smell with perfume, something highly prohibited in Chiss society. Misguiding the potential mate of someone else by modifying one’s scent markers is highly illegal. 

But he was young, hot-headed, and an idiot. 

And today he pays the price of his entire life choices. He grew and matured decades ago but the harm had been done. 

Sometimes he envies mateless species. Simply living and falling in love or living free of the marital and mating duties... Sounds comforting and liberating. 

When was the last time he felt the presence of a potential mate? 

Several years, easily. 

More than ten years since he last smelled that delicious scent of honey,  liquor, and tea leaves on someone. The one scent signaling him that this person is compatible with him. The same as his. 

He greets his teeth. 

“The Mateless”  

His unofficial title when his back is turned.  

His shame, his dishonor. The stain in his life. 

But what can he do now? He is fated to finish his life alone, the question is more about how he will meet his end. Back in time, non-mated Patriarchs could get executed for failing their family, for being too unstable, and for not providing an heir to the family. 

It was millennia and millennia ago, of course. Chiss evolved past those barbaric laws, but the prejudice remained, remembering Thurfian that ages ago his life choices would have guided him to the pillory. 

Thurfian suddenly freezes and opens his eyes wide, almost trembling in shock. 

That smell... 

No. 

It’s impossible. He must hallucinate, that’s the most logical explanation. 

Thurfian suppresses a laugh at his own idiocy. Of course, it is impossible. Crossing paths with a potential partner at his age is simply improbable. He shakes his head with a light chuckle, what a stupid thought just crossed his mind! 

He turns back to his files, waiting for the hallucination to settle. 

But five minutes later, the scent he stopped hoping for is still here. Well present.  

Heady. 

Overporwering. 

Making his head turn and his heart pumps harder. He almost starts feeling vertigo.  

He gulps, passing his hand through his long hair. 

He needs to calm down and be rational. 

This is impossible. 

But the delicious scent of tea leaves titillates his nostrils, like a dare, like a temptation. 

He needs to be sure! 

He almost jumps on his feet, before remembering who he is and calmly exiting his office. He is the Patriarch and a Mitth for the Warrior’s sake! He slowly, almost lazily walks in the corridors of the Manor.nHe really needs to keep his expectations low. They surely already know about his scandalous reputation. But maybe... 

Just maybe... 

They could come from a far enough away world to have never heard about it! 

Highly unlikely! 

But he cannot help but hope. 

The further he walks into the Manor, the more significant the smell of tea leaves gets, the notes of honey and liquor mixing deliciously, enhancing that superior scent. Thurfian chides himself. By all accounts that mysterious person will already be taken and mated to someone else. But nothing prevents him from coming to meet and befriending them. 

Yes.  

A friend is also appreciable, he has so little left since he accessed the throne. He nods to himself. A friend would be perfect.  

His comm rings, prompting him to stop to check it.  

It is a Syndic of the family signaling that a stranger with the highest priority code message wishes to meet Thurfian, waiting for him in the Manor’s salon. The message is short and leaves no guessing about the urgency of the demand.  

But not even a family name? Thurfian frowns, dubious. 

And the salon is exactly where the delicious scent is leading him right now.  

When he reaches the large and heavy old-style wooden doors of the salon the delectable smell invades his lungs and nose, he can breathe it in at each inhalation. That’s definitely them! 

He opens the door to meet the Syndic who sent him the text. 

“Patriarch?” They ask surprised, “What are you-” 

“I am here to meet them.” He cuts them short, walking past them. 

“Ah! Patriarch! Wait! Plea-” 

Thurfian keeps going and passes the arches with palpitations. 

He turns his head and...! 

Stops dead in his tracks as the stranger turns their head to his arrival. 

An alien! 

A... Human!  

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

“I need your help for a delicate mission, Commander.” Grand Admiral Thrawn said to you, skirting his desk to sit. 

“Of course, Grand Admiral.” You stend to attention, “What can I do to serve you?” 

Thrawn smiled tightly. Always energetic and willing to serve, obeying every one of his orders and missions with brio and excellence. You were one of his most trusted officers with Karyn Faro. Nothing he could ask you would throw you off your rhythm or deter you. 

You crossed paths pretty early in your respective careers. You were one of the first to recognize Thrawn genius and merit in warfare and followed him ever since, asking the chain of command to affect you with him on every ship he received the commandment of. 

Your loyalty towards the Empire slowly melted into loyalty towards the Chiss. He never said anything, that he, himself, could fail and precipitate your end. That he could become your very death if your true colors were revealed.  

But you were just so good at your job! He trusted you with his life and he worked to keep you both out of the blast radius. He needed your competencies and skills at his side. 

But... 

Maybe the Ascendancy needed you more. 

He remembers. 

The man, looking straight at him with cold detachment during his trial before disappearing in silence. 

His Patriarch. 

Single and alone. 

Unstable, they would say. 

How could he command the Mitth family in those conditions? 

Thrawn somehow sympathises. He knew he could only rise so high in Chiss ranks as a mateless, that at some point his genius would stop carrying him and his mateless character would stop any further ascension.  

They needed someone with something to lose in command.  

Not an unstable like him. 

And as freeing as it was for him to come into a system where mates were not the norm, he also realized long ago that he couldn’t change his home in any meaningful manner. That the mate order was here to stay.  

But maybe he was also not the only one suffering in this system. Now that he has risen to the top he understands the pure loneliness and isolation that come with power, but if it is here to stay for him, he can maybe still lend a hand to that man. 

It is not uninterested, far from that. It is purely strategic. Chiss politicians seemed to care a lot about the mating order, to the point that mateless individuals could get fired at any given moment in favor of a mated. And Thrawn remembers his History books, the fate reserved to mateless Patriarchs. 

To those men and women who failed to conform to Chiss values and therefore weakened their families. And although he has no real good grasp of politics, he has no difficulties imagining that a weakened family of the nine could greatly destabilize the current system and the Chiss Ascendancy as a whole. 

So if he sends you, his little miracle back home, maybe he could help stabilize the powers in place. That was risky, but beating the odds is his trademark after all. 

 Admiral Ar’alani discussed it with him lately, confirming that the Patriarch that sent him away was still in place, still mateless, still unstable, and therefore dangerous to the Ascendancy. 

Thrawn could very well wait for him to fall and get replaced, but Ar’alani told him that he remained a very powerful blood Mitth. A powerful blood Mitth that would owe him a very, very huge debt if his plan worked. And he knows he will need all the allies possible when he gets back from exile to the Ascendancy. 

So maybe 

Just maybe 

If he sends you to that man... 

You may just be his ticket to more power and freedom to protect his people.  

Honestly, he didn’t believe it at first when he met you. How could you, an individual from a mateless species, be compatible with a Chiss?  

But his smell didn’t misguide him. Your scent and pheromones are highly specific and match his Patriarch’s profile. 

By all means it was a crazy plan, but he already agreed with Ar’alani that she would take you on the Steadfast and guide you into the Ascendancy. As an Admiral without ties to any family, she will be able to give you access to the Mitth Manor by playing her cards right and he will give you his message, his “peace treaty” as Ar’alani called it. 

That’s very much not his style and usual strategies but how could he survive in the long run if his tactics don’t evolve with the times? 

“At ease, Commander. It is a very peculiar mission, that will need fineness, dexterity, and tact, but I trust you. I know you will rise to the challenge!” 

“For you, I will!” You assured him. 

‘For you’ 

If you were any of his other officers he would have chastised and corrected you in an exemplary manner! You were here to serve the Empire and not just a single Grand Admiral.  

But your relationship evolved past that point long ago and he came to appreciate your devotion to his person. 

And right now he hopes this devotion is as deep as he imagined it for you to accept this mission. Because this is not just a diplomatic mission. It is a life-changing mission. 

Mating with someone isn’t a laughing matter to the Chiss and he knows full well you will go without knowing your true purpose. 

He cannot reveal it to you.  

You would say no. 

Understandably. 

And he does feel guilty to trap you in such a way, but he knows his time is limited in the Empire and he must prepare his return to the Ascendancy. And a willing Mitth Patriarch could ease a lot of difficult situations. 

 He remembers his discussion with Ar’alani a decade ago, about how he saw people as tools. He needs to see you that way to send you there, no matter the friendship that came to form between you two. He eases his guilt thinking this is not such a horrible fate for you, to become the Mitth Patriarch mate is to live free of worries and wants, in a comfortable home with sophisticated and cultured persons. 

You will have it easy. 

At least money-wise...  

Ar’alani warned him of Commander Eli Vanto’s tepid welcome among his people and chances are you’ll get the same. He knows you can take it, he is more worried about the Patriarch’s behavior. 

Will he ever accept a human as a mate? Will the Chiss accept a human as a Patriarch mate? 

Your status as a diplomatic agent will protect you but as soon as you will set foot in the Manor, the Patriarch will understand and his reaction is unplannable. 

But those who don’t try and take action get nothing! 

“I need you for a diplomatic mission. A very, very long diplomatic mission...” 

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

"State to me again. Why are you here?" The Chiss asks you. 

You straighten your back and readjust your position on your chair. What doesn’t he understand ? 

“I am here on behalf of one of your good friends. I bring you a message and an offering of peace and appeasement, he also asked for me to offer my service to you.” You repeat, controlling your tone to not sound condescending. 

It is simple really. 

The chiss, the ‘Patriarch’ looks at you intently, his hands clasped before his lower face, his burning red eyes fixing you like he was trying to disintegrate you. What’s annoying you is his manner of bringing a perfumed handkerchief to his nose every five minutes, like he was keeping a gag at bay. You took a shower and dressed in a freshly washed uniform, why does he act like you reek? 

Does Chiss have more sensitive olfactive receptors? Does humans smell is that unnerving to other species? Thrawn never specified any such info to you. 

“Because you think he is one of my… ‘Good friend’?” The Patriarch asks with a sneer. 

“He is your fellow Chiss, and a Grand Admiral of a close power nation with sensitive information about the immediate survival of your Ascendancy. He considers it sufficient to demand you listen to his propositions." 

The Chiss eyes fall back on their equivalent of a datapad, reading again what Thrawn proposed. You’re only the messenger with Admiral Ar’alani, Thrawn didn’t specify to you the intricacies of his proposition and wrote everything In Cheuhn, his mother tongue. 

As the man reads again the terms of the treaty you take time to observe him in more detail. Tall, with deep blue skin, and burgundy red shiny eyes, despite being older than Thrawn he is dignified and haughty, clearly still having long decades before him as Chiss live longer than humans according to your Grand Admiral. His clothes are expensive with very intricate embroideries and multiple layers of pricey fabrics, the prominent red color seems specific to this family. Braided long hair in a sophisticated fashion, makeup enhancing the sharp Chiss features, now you know why Thrawn had the habit of underlining his eyes with red eyeliner… A single intricate ring, probably a family heirloom, proof of his role as head of the family.  

So this is the man... 

The one you promised Thrawn to serve, for ‘the good of both species and future diplomatic relationships’ as he put it. You silently sigh. You are doing it for him. For the genius that he is and his mission… You had all the time to question your sanity and why you accepted. 

But you know why… 

Because Thrawn’s gaze was clear and assured, and this could only mean one thing 

Victory. 

Thrawn warned you this mission could take as long as a year, if not more… way more. But you accepted nonetheless… 

Well at least this ‘Patriarch’ isn’t displeasing to look at, it is your only consolation considering his bad temper. He never once was impolite but made absolutely no effort to make you feel welcomed and comfortable. 

As a soldier, you don’t mind. As a diplomatic agent, his lack of concern is a red flag for the mission. 

“Why you?" He asks out of the blue, eyes lazily raising back to meet yours, or rather to make you lower your head. 

You don’t. You look straight into his burning gaze, unflinching. Is he asking why Thrawn sent a woman? His contracting throat muscles indicate his real mood, the little patience he has, and his true desire to have you walk away from there. 

"Grand Admiral Thrawn trusts me.” 

That’s litteraly the only reason he gave you. You could tell he had another reason, but what Thrawn wants to keep hidden, will remain hidden. 

The Patriarch raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

"I already conducted several diplomatic missions, I am…was his go-to officer for them and speak several wild space languages, like the one we are using now. I was the most suited for the job." 

He sneers, your answer far from satisfying him. 

“I am afraid that isn’t sufficient to be worth my time." 

“I know your secret.” 

Again, he raises an eyebrow. 

“And what secret do you think you know exactly?” He inquires with a sadistic smile stretching his lips. 

"How you travel through space. Without any Navigation computers. This secret.” 

His smile vanishes instantly, an incredulous expression flashing on his face before melting in a controlled, but very much real, anger. 

“You are lying.” He modulated his voice carefully, the tone is almost sweet with a note of poison. 

You very sternly shake your head. 

“Grand Admiral Thrawn took care to teach me. He wanted to make sure you would not send me back, not with my knowledge.” You plainly state. 

His expression closes back in a detached, cold, and aloof expression. You cannot read him anymore. 

“You are bluffing. He is an indiscreet and a fool, but he would not betray the secrets of our navy like that.” 

You sigh, reaching the end of your patience. 

“You use little girls with very rare capacities.” You let him know without a shadow of a doubt. 

He closes his eyes slowly, taking in the information that yes, Thrawn did actually spilled the secret to you. 

“You realize I could very simply have you executed and get done with all of this?” 

“I am under the protection of Admiral Ar’alani and Supreme Admiral Ba’kif.”  

You hear a faint growl emanating from him. Whatever happened between them, the Patriarch and the Supreme Admiral aren’t on good terms. 

You try to smile politely. 

“Come on Patriarch, are the mighty Chiss so terrified of one woman? I am but a messenger from one of your compatriots, only wishing to do good for our two nations. Take it as the opportunity to build privileged ties and bounds with a future powerful neighbor. Your family would be on the forefront of the scene and the negotiations.” 

“Do not teach me how to do my job.” 

“Far from me that idea.” You temper, “I am merely pointing out the benefices you could get by listening to the Grand Admiral.” 

“You spoke so highly of your dear Grand Admiral. Learn that he left us with a terrible reputation and was sentenced to be exiled for treason. We do not give credit to his words or any of his peace offerings.” Once again, he takes his scented handkerchief to his nose and deeply inhales it. 

“I am aware. He also contests those accusations but counts on your common sense to see the bigger picture.” 

“I think we are finished here.” He stands haughtily, “I will ask Admiral Ar’alani to conduct you back to your Empire and your dear Grand Admiral.” 

“I am going nowhere, Patriarch. He bestowed me this mission and his trust and I intend to honor both.” You stop him firmly. 

He contemplates you with lassitude. 

“Why going so far for him?” 

“I trust him.” 

“That cannot be the only reason.” 

“To you, it may not be sufficient. To me it is. I learned to know him and I saw the grandeur of Great men in him.” 

“How touching. Someone will escort you to the do-” 

“I invoke the Protocol 39 of Chiss laws for diplomats.” You cut him. 

This time you thought his head would really explode. 

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

Thurfian lets the fresh water roll on his skin. 

He is absolutely fuming. 

Where did you learn about that stupid protocol 39?! That damn law should get repealed urgently! A law offering asylum to alien diplomats who know about that particular protocol has no place in their books. It is a useless remnant of a past era of the Chiss Ascendancy when they were weaker. 

But you knew about this protocol and invoked it out loud, and now he has to offer you protection... 

He sighs. 

Of course... 

Ba’kif told you. It is the only possibility. 

Whatever Thrawn planned, Ar’alani and Ba’kif are in leagues with him, leaving him all the mess to deal with. 

What in tarnation Thrawn had in mind? Revealing one of the most dire secrets of the Ascendancy to a human? That Vento one wasn’t enough, he had to send another lost puppy to the Chiss. But this time he sent it to Thurfian. 

He almost wants to laugh thinking back at that ‘peace treaty’ as you called it. Gibberish, unenforceable, naive. Thrawn learned absolutely nothing about politics during this decade. His true goal is so apparent and frankly Thurfian feels like he spat in his face. 

Who does he think he is? And who does he think you are to even think this could work? 

Him? Mitth’urf’ianico? Mating with an alien? Thrawn lost the last remnants of his foolish mind. 

How would that even work? You humans have no mates, what did he hope would happen? 

He gulps, his throat dry. 

His own body hoped for something... 

To his horror. 

His dignity revulses at that thought, but his body awakened quite... brutally at the proximity of a compatible individual. 

A young 

Unmatched and single 

Potential compatible individual. 

He hates to admit it, but you are the prime example of a perfect Mate. A shame you are an alien, that spoils everything.  

But his body, again, disagrees with his morals. 

It only sees a potential, fruitful, and willing potential mate, ripe and ready for the harvest. His own body betrays him, desperate to get to know you better and pushing things to their climax. 

It his demanding you, craving you, your scent, your voice, your touch... 

It has been almost 6 months. 

6 months of pure torture for him. Of his body feeling the presence of an available mate and entering fight mode to deter any potential rivals. 6 long, long months he tried to put the most distance between you two, keeping you as far away as possible, hoping it would ease his urges and cravings, only for his organisms to demand you harder, resorting to pain to force him to get closer. 

6 months of him being hunted by lustful, disgusting dreams of you two together, waking him in a cold sweat, hard and shameful. 

And you had to keep harassing him! In the name of your Warriordamn devotion to Thrawn you kept testing him every day. He has to hand it to you, you are dedicated. 

He sees himself in you, back in his youth when he pursued lovers, the relentless chase, and the thrill of the hunt. But you have no idea of the true reason why Thrawn sent you here, to him. Would you have been a Chiss, he would have reveled in your insistence. 

He tried everything to make you leave of your own will, to the subtle passive-aggressive ways to downright discrimination and hate. Anything to keep you far away. But you took it all, unflinching, dignified, keeping your head high in front of everything the Chiss threw at you. 

He lowkey respects your attitude. He understands better what Thrawn saw in you and how you earned his respect and friendship. Not everyone would have held on before such treatments, he has met plenty of Chiss that would have chickened out long ago. 

But you didn’t. 

You remained, with your insufferable smugness and attitude, as infuriatingly spruce as ever. 

And now he really has no ideas left to escape you and the temptation that you are for him. 

He dreamed so much of dropping to his knees before you, kissing your hand reverently if you promised to be his and his alone, to devote yourself to him like you do with Thrawn, if you let him do what it pleased him to you... 

He woke up horrified each time. 

What other reaction was he supposed to have in front of such dreams? 

Give in? Not a chance. 

He remembers how he tried to push you out of his office the first day, your delicious smell was so overpowering he honestly thought he would pass out from his awakening urges. The last time he felt so... Alive was decades ago. He had to inhale his perfume handkerchief to limit the vertigos and baseless pulsions he felt pushing in his veins. He slammed the door once you exited his office, taking support on the wall to not fall to the ground with how he was trembling. He needed a long, icy cold shower after that. 

You are no Chiss! How could you have such an effect on him?! 

Did Thrawn knew? 

Did he deduce that it was possible? Oh he really thinks he did Thurfian a favor, that he will be indebted to him. 

But he just sent him a tormentor. 

When Thrawn comes back 

If 

He comes back... 

He will find Thurfian in the forefront of his detractors, ready to guide him to the pillory. He will find the exact opposite of what he tried to create. 

Did he really think he would be able to come back untouched just because he sent him an alien to fuck? Thurfian remembers Thrawn having difficulties with relationships and socialisation but this is a real new low... 

And to think he expects him to lower himself to you?! Him, the Patriarch of the Grand Mitth? Does he think he is desperate to find a mate? That he will accept anyone thrown his way? Even an alien? 

He knew Thrawn had weird views but this one is an insult plain and simple.  

He exits the shower to go down and eat breakfast with his family. Another long day ahead of him. Another load of pain waiting for him. He needs to get rid of you... 

He needs to find a way. Any way. 

He passes the large arches and his senses are immediately assaulted by your... obsessive scent. He swiftly takes support on the wall to not fall before the sheer power of your presence. 

He REALLY needs to get rid of you, murder is still an option. It can still happen. 

You are speaking with a member of the Mitth about something he does not care about. His first instance is to leave and climb back up in his suite, but that would be an admission of weakness on his part. That would be admitting you do have an effect on him, and he doesn’t intend on revealing that. 

He already has enough problems like that. If Thrawn and his socially impaired character were able to deduce that you are compatible with him, then that means everyone in the Mitth Manor picked it up by now. He needs not to be a genius to know they all speak behind his back. And that’s also why he forbade you from leaving the Manor despite him trying to avoid you. He will not let the rest of the Ascendancy know one of his possible mates is a human. 

Leaving the room right now would give them prove them right. 

And that is not happening. 

He takes his seat and takes out his questis to read today’s meeting and missions, ignoring you blatantly. He almost manages to focus and forget about everyone’s presence when he hears you laugh.  

Cristallyne and melodious. 

Delectable to hear. 

So pleasing to his ears... 

He deeply inhales to take back the upper hand but cannot help a guilty side glance in your direction.  

You are radiant, smiling with a gleaming shine. You smile at another male, giving him your attention. 

And that... 

Infuriates him! 

He mentally shakes his head, he needs to stop being so foolish but he cannot help the rising ire in his veins.  

You are speaking an accentuated Cheuhn now. You made very great progress, proof of your brilliant intellect and willingness to serve him. And that accent is just soooo... Exotic and musical, just so pleasant to listen to. 

He wants to listen to it for hours, he wan- 

He chastises himself. He wants none of that. He is not jealous of that man. He does not dream about you every night. 

This is not him. 

This is his baseless urges and instincts speaking. Not his personhood. 

He is way better than that. Way above that.  

Way above you... 

He would rather remain ‘the Mateless’ than associate with you. And prove Thrawn’s point. 

This trial is far from over... 

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

You silently walk in the corridors of the Manor. You don’t want to get spotted, Patriarch Thurfian would be heavily displeased if one of his guests spotted you. You just want to grab a snack anyway, you will not take long. 

You listen to the music emanating behind the closed doors of the ballroom of the Mitth Manor, a very large party is taking place. You received explicit interdiction to appear, not that you wanted it anyway. You can hear the lively discussions and waves of laughter, this is a lively party. You reach the kitchens and start picking up in the dishes destined for the banquets. 

A bit of this, a bit of that... You grab a fruit and head towards your room. 

As you walk past one of the doors opens, letting you have a glance at the party. You have a sneaky look, only to cross gaze with Thurfian inside, looking straight back at you, frowning, ordering you to get the fuck out of here pronto. You scurry away, not wanting to get him on his nerves. 

You’re not especially in the correct attire to be seen by all those guests. You are in your nightdress, ready to go to bed after your little snack, and you will really look out of place among those high-standard guests for sure. 

You sigh, after a whole year here, Thrawn didn’t show up as promised. You knew it could take longer than what he told you, but you are almost a prisoner here, forbidden from leaving the manor altogether, your weapons and uniforms confiscated. They limited your contacts with Ar’alani and Ba’kif to a minimum. You had to fight tooth and nail to just have the right to own a questis. 

Thurfian cannot bear to see you. He forbade you from approaching him entirely, but in every room you enter he seems to follow, only to look at you with disdain and horror and leave without a single word. You don’t know what his problem is but if he could have banished you to the other side of the Ascendancy, he would have done it. 

Thank the Maker Admiral Ar’alani explained Thrawn’s plan to Supreme Admiral Ba’kif and he gave you that nice little trick with the protocols. Or it would have been a nice little trick if you could have accomplished your mission given by Thrawn, but in those conditions it is impossible. 

‘Sorry my friend, I failed you for the first time’ you think bitterly.  

“I told you they hide an alien!” A male voice raises behind your back. 

You stop and spin on your feet to meet the disturbance of your peace. You met a group of four tall Chiss, looking at you up and down. Something in their demeanor displeases you immensely. 

“And quite a looker! Look at that skin color, it looks so soft!.”  

A fifth man appears behind your back, blocking the only other exit of the area.  

“Where are you going like that, little one? You will need an escort, a lot of bad people roam around that kind of party.” One of them speaks casually as they all circle you. 

“I thank you for your concern, good sirs. No need to bother with me, I am going away immediately.” You inform calmly, discreetly looking for an opening. 

The situation is not yet dramatic, but with five men against you, you will be in severe difficulty. 

“Mmmmh listen to that accent, it is absolutely lovely. Can you sing well too?” The one behind walked so close that he could grab a strand of your hair to wrap it around his finger. 

You immediately slap his hand away. 

“Careful man. She is feisty.” One snigger. 

“I love them feisty.” He responds licking his lips, “Tell me girly, are you the pet of the house?” 

“I am no one’s pet.” You growl. 

The next one approaching will receive your fist in his teeth. 

“A hottie like you, hidden away from the rest of the world like a secret... Someone wishes to keep you all for themself.” 

You fight the desire to sigh loudly to their face. 

“You are imagining things. Slow down the wine and let me pass, I need to sleep.” 

“You can sleep with us if you want. We have the whole night ahead of us.” One of them grabs your hand and attempts to pull you away towards a darker room. 

You throw your fist in his face, feeling something broke under your knuckles and hearing a growl of pain. The man is projected against the wall violently, under his comrades round eyes. 

“You BITCH! Seize her!” He growls, his hand pressed on his bleeding nose. 

They suddenly jump on you, grabbing your arms and clothes to tear them apart. You bite, claw, punch, and kick them back, giving them a hell of a hard time. But it is clear very soon that you will not win against five pissed-off opponents, not without a blade. And slowly fear settles in. 

No one will hear you. 

No one will save you. 

No one wi- 

A gunshot blasts in the air, stopping the commotion entirely.  

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

He just had a bad feeling. 

When he first smelled tea leaves, liquor, and honey he just felt ire in his veins, what the fuck were you doing around here? When he caught a glimpse of you between the two cracked open doors in your nightdress he felt his stomach tie itself in knots and his heart pumping faster. 

He shot you with his gaze to make you get out! Away from him you devious temptress! 

But when he saw this group of men leaving the ballroom right after you, he felt the ground opening under him. 

He knows very well this kind of gaze they had. How many times him and his friends had to fight off creeps like them to protect their girlfriends back in the day? A lot. Too much. 

Way too much. 

He could not fight off the cold sweat rolling in the back of his neck when they walked past him with that deranged smile.  

His hand unconsciously slid inside his inner tunic, feeling the cross of his personal Charric solidly attached in its straps. His head told him to stay in the ballroom, that aliens’ problems weren’t his. 

But his heart told him that he couldn’t let such a horrifying act happen to any woman he knew, not under his own roof, not even to a pain in the neck sent by Thrawn, alien or not. His own morals couldn’t tolerate it! 

And his instinct screamed at him to protect you specifically, his organism growing territorial and protective over you. You seem very well trained, and a part of him knows you are deadly with a weapon. 

But he confiscated each and everyone of your weapons and sealed them away. 

He even confiscated what you called a comlink. You will have no means to call for help. No one will hear your screams. 

He put you in this situation! 

And as that thought strikes his brain he realizes that he is furtively following the group of young men, his charric in hand. He doesn't see or hear them. He only has to follow your delicious scent.. 

He reaches a door and hears a moan of pain. A woman’s voice. 

Your voice. 

He sees red, all rational thoughts leaving his head. He kicks the door open and shoot a random mirror, dangerous glass shards exploding across the room. 

They all stop. 

You’re on the ground, nightdress torn apart, face bloody, limbs pinned to the ground with one of the creeps lying on top of you. 

Your abusers turn toward him, their ears still ringing from the loud sound.  

“Get off her.” He orders coldly. 

“Patriarch Thurfian, what are yo-” Thurfian doesn’t let him finish and fires at the foot of the one speaking up, making him scream a pitiful wail of pain. 

“Get.Off.Her. Or I shoot you down like dogs.” Thufian very calmly, very slowly, but very menacingly repeats. 

He is dead serious he realizes. He has no idea who they are, they very well might be sons of important syndics or magnates, but he knows that if they don’t obey he will shoot them dead without any second thoughts about any of the consequences. 

His gaze falls on you. You are in terrible shape and visibly terrified. His heart bleeds at such a sight... 

He treated you terribly for an entire year to push you to the door and you took it with grace and determination, unsinkable. He never thought he would see such an expression on your face ever. 

This fear in your human eyes is absolutely odious. He wants to get rid of it immediately. 

Your attackers let you go reluctantly while the fifth is crying on the floor, holding his wounded foot. The one laying his disgusting body on top of you groans as he gets up, displeased that his fun is now ruined. 

Do those types of men know no decency? No sympathy? No respect? 

“Protecting your candy, heh?” The one on top of you chuckles, looking at him.  

“What?” Thurfian snarls, heading the canon of his charric towards the chest of the impertinent. 

“I smelled it on her.” He licks his teeth. Absolutely revolting, “What would the other Patriarchs say if they knew about her, I wonder?” 

And suddenly, Thurfian’s anger subsides. His boiling blood turns into icy cold water in his veins and his mind gets clearer. His trembling hand shaking with fury steadies perfectly and he simply presses the trigger. The revolting man gets thrown back, hit in the chest. His friends jump and shout in surprise, incredulous that he dared fire his fellow Chiss over an alien. 

Thurfian takes his comm out to ring his bodyguards as they look at their unconscious friend lying on the ground in a pathetic position.  

In an instant, Chiss in uniforms enter the little salon, handcuff your attackers, and call an ambulance for the trash that got shot. Thurfian walks to the table. During the commotion you crawled in a corner of the room to put as much distance as possible between you and your assaulters. 

You are trembling, knees pressed against your chest, your human skin soiled by your blood, almost naked in the cold room. He gets on one knee and detaches his Patriarch coat to pass it around your shoulder. 

You shudder as his hand inadvertently brushes your shoulder. Look at you, terrified and lost. 

And that is his fault. Only his fault. 

Without a single word, he seizes your body and lifts you up bridal style. You yelp in surprise, looking at him with questions in your... gorgeous eyes. He carries you out of that room, without a single word for Thivick that just arrived.  

Your scent reaches Thurfian nose again, and for the first time since you arrived in his manor, he indulges. He deeply inhales those delicate and harmonious notes. 

His heart jumps in his chest as he feels you pressing yourself against him, huddling your wounded body against his, laying your head on his shoulder. 

He should feel indignant. Revolted. Absolutely revulsed! 

But the proximity feels comforting, it feels right. Like it was meant to be all along. 

Did the Warrior himself placed you on his way? Did he remained mateless all of this time because he was waiting for you? 

He doesn’t know. And frankly, he doesn’t care. Having you in his arms feels like the only good thing that happened to him in a long, long time. 

He has a lot of explaining to do. But first, dressing your wounds. 

He enters the infirmary and lays you in one of the beds. The medic stands up to start the treatment but Thurfian simply pulls the curtain, isolating both of you from the rest of the world. He washes his hands and washes your face delicately with a wet cloth. 

You wince in pain, you received several blows that tore the skin apart in several places, and bruises of a variety of colors are already flourishing on your human skin. 

“I am terribly sorry, (Y/n).” He simply says.  

What else can he say after such an aggression? What words could comfort a victim? 

“They will be brought on trial. They would not go unpunished.” He assures you. 

You sniff with disdain, not believing his promise for a second. 

“You all say that each time that it happens, but nothing gets done.” 

“You have my word. With the testimony of a Patriarch, they will not be able to escape justice.” He tries. 

You huff again, pushing his hand away. 

“Why would you even do that? You made it very clear I was not welcomed anywhere in the Chiss Ascendancy, especially in your presence. Why shoot one of you for a ‘mere human’?” 

He can feel the pain in your voice, how it twitches your features, how you gulp with difficulties. 

‘Because I am physically incapable of seeing you suffer.’ are the first words popping into his mind and he almost says them out loud before biting his tongue. 

But this is the truth. The fear he felt when he saw you in danger, the urge to tear those men’s eyes out of their sockets for just breathing weirdly in your direction, the absolute desperation when he saw your eyes widen in horror and fear. 

He had to fight his attraction and desires towards you the entire year for him to shoot a man down at your first trouble. He hid behind the pretension that it was only his instinct getting desperate to not find a proper mate that they were desperate to settle with anyone, even a lowly alien. 

But seeing you in this state makes him feel so guilty. He could have made your stay pleasant, welcomed you properly, and shown you the wonders of Chiss culture. But he locked you inside the Manor and limited your contacts with the outside world out of fear. 

That they would know that you were made for him. 

He could have made it easy for everyone and even facilitated future diplomatic relationships with humans like you proposed when you arrived.  

But no. He had to act like a child and now look at the results... 

“Because it is my job to protect guests under the Mitth roof.” He answers, muzzling the truth. “I will make sure it will not happen again.” 

“I do not believe you.” 

“I shot a man for you tonight.” 

You turn your head away from his red gaze. He feels the urge to dive in the crook of your neck and kiss it, his body wants to hug you close and make sure you are safe. 

But maybe... 

This isn’t just his body speaking. 

Maybe it is simply him too... 

He wants to kiss your lips and swallow your pain and fear for you to only know peace and serenity in his arms. 

He won’t, obviously. You are in shock, now is not the time for romantic advances. 

“You could have just sent me back to Thrawn... You did not want me here anyway, why not allow me to go back to him?” You ask, fighting back sobs. 

Now that things are settling down your body needs to evacuate the tension and stress of the aggression.  

So you start crying. 

Stabbing his heart deep. 

‘Because I couldn’t let you go...’ He thinks with a sigh, realizing it as the thought crosses his mind. 

He disinfects and dresses your wounds in silence, letting you cry to your heart’s content before sitting down and taking your hand in his, squeezing it gently. 

“Things will change from now on. I will give you back your weapons and uniforms, I will let you explore Csilla as you wish, and I will arrange a rendezvous with Ba’kif and Ar’alani. If you wish to go back to Thrawn, I will set you free...” 

His hearts bleed at those words because he knows he wants the exact opposite as he is proposing it to you. 

“But if you wish to remain and finish your mission, I would appreciate sharing a cup of tea with you, one day at your convenience. I want to know you better...” 

And a little more he hopes. 

Maybe one day you’ll forgive him. 

Maybe one day you will hold his hands and call him yours.  

He will wait, as long as it takes... 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

[eomproject]

Starfleet Training Video "Make TMP Work for You", 2274.

The complete overheal of almost every starship system by the Total Modification Programme (TMP) required extensive retraining but resulted in a more streamlined, unified fleet. T.M.P. emerged out of the Advanced Starship Design Bureau in the mid 2260s in the wake of the Linear Warp Drive breakthrough. With a revolution in engine design on the cards, Starfleet designers were concerned about how long - and how effective - a rapid retrofitting of Starfleet's roster would be.

With other breakthroughs like multitronic computers, neo-optical interfaces and semi-conventional power transmissions clearly coming soon, the ASDB began to formulate a new design ethic that integrated all of these new technologies together, allowing for a unified set of equipment that could marry it all together.

The first of the new type of ships - USS Accra - launched in 2268 and served as clear proof that the principles of unified design worked. The most radical experiment ASDB conducted, however, would be the first TMP - conducted on the USS Enterprise between 2270 and 2273. The line starship would be rebuilt from the keel up with the most advanced equipment available in record time, even accounting for it's emergency re-launch during the V'Ger crisis.

TMP would prove to be the most successful engineering iniative of the 23rd century; over 70% of Starfleet's roster would be retrofitted to it's standards by 2285, when the programme finally ended.

[commodorez]

Why are computers systems based on the number 8? Like 8-bit graphics, 64 bit rams and others.

8-bit is an easy-to-work-with power of 2 that becomes a good building block. We settled on 8-bits for the first generation of microprocessors and just increased from there to 16, 32, and 64 bits as processor lineages evolved. 8008 -> 8080 -> 8086/8088 -> 80286 -> 80386 -> 80486 -> Pentium, you get the idea

There used to be computers in other bit-width architectures before the dominance of x86 unified most general purpose computers. The big players made 6-bit, 12-bit, 18-bit, 30-bit, 36-bit, etc. sized computers of all kinds for various applications. It was kind of the wild west for a long time because everyone was trying all sorts of things based on what they needed from a computer design.

So it's all powers of 2 because binary. 8 is just convenient.

[phonesuite]

In 2023, the trend you need to know about is improved extended detection and response with XDR. Strengthen security while enhancing the efficiency. Read More...

[clara-the-cat]

VRAGE3: 25cm Unified Grid System

Very intriguing, it's going to be a long time before I have a computer that can run this.

[codeandcanvas]

I have had a weird day, no, not a weird day: I have felt a stressful noise in my head earlier, like chatter I could not understand, and which only when focussing on it became words, emotions, memories maybe.

This worried me, because I realised that I have no idea what the cause for this noise is. Talking about it with a dear person close to me, I came to understand that while the both of us had a clear memory of when this head noise happened (which later turned out to be what our brains literally default to when unfocussed and unoccupied with external stimuli, called “default mode network”), I had no idea what the physiological causes for the sensation itself were, or in general are.

So I just went to ask Copilot, and you can see for yourself where that lead me to below

You can find the original upload on my arena account here https://www.are.na/block/31536061 with my comments on how two of these books (the more academic ones) are labelled wrong, but I will provide these comments here as well, but first I’ll link you to the commented pdf in my social archive:

Below are now the comments I made about this exchange with Copilot

First comment

Caveat lector: None of the Zoltan Torey books are called that, and “The Cognitive Neuroscience of Memory” is not by Rugg et Tulving. Take this as what it is, not what you want it to be.

Second comment

URLs from this interaction, to peruse at your own discretion:

Third comment

Further quizzing Copilot about the missing books lead to this:

“The Neuroscience of Mind: A Unified Theory of the Human Brain” by Zoltan Torey has the ISBN of 9780262530859 which is actually “Neurophilosophy: Toward a Unified Science of Mind/Brain: Toward a Unified Science of the Mind-Brain (Computational Models of Cognition and Perception)”

“The Cognitive Neuroscience of Memory” by Michael D. Rugg and Endel Tulving has the ISBN of 9781848727724 which is actually “Cognitive Neuroscience of Memory (Special Issues of Cognitive Neuroscience)”

Close enough in case of the second book, but confused. See here https://x.com/MarioBreskic/status/1847402158439678279 or here https://social.mariobreskic.de/twitter/2024/10/19/380/ for my rubberducking/notepadding in public

End of comments

Interesting, right?

The noise in our heads, and what this noise defaults to, is literally the default mode of our brains. We, as far as I can understand it, rarely, if ever, idle. I don’t know if this default can be changed, but I’ll just be cheerful for no damn reason.

Copilot’s quality control for quoted and referenced books is meh, but I don’t think that will stop you from researching for yourself, now will it? Tagging this up with a few sensible hashtag guesses, keeping it away from the archive by not using the tag “code and canvas”, should hook it into tumblr’s internal knowledge database quite nicely.