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headspace-hotel · 2 years ago

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I went down the internet rabbit hole trying to figure out wtf vegan cheese is made of and I found articles like this one speaking praises of new food tech startups creating vegan alternatives to cheese that Actually work like cheese in cooking so I was like huh that's neat and I looked up more stuff about 'precision fermentation' and. This is not good.

Basically these new biotech companies are pressuring governments to let them build a ton of new factories and pushing for governments to pay for them or to provide tax breaks and subsidies, and the factories are gonna cost hundreds of millions of dollars and require energy sources. Like, these things will have to be expensive and HUGE

I feel like I've just uncovered the tip of the "lab grown meat" iceberg. There are a bajillion of these companies (the one mentioned in the first article a $750 MILLION tech startup) that are trying to create "animal-free" animal products using biotech and want to build large factories to do it on a large scale

I'm trying to use google to find out about the energy requirements of such facilities and everything is really vague and hand-wavey about it like this article that's like "weeeeeell electricity can be produced using renewables" but it does take a lot of electricity, sugars, and human labor. Most of the claims about its sustainability appear to assume that we switch over to renewable electricity sources and/or use processes that don't fully exist yet.

I finally tracked down the source of some of the more radical claims about precision fermentation, and it comes from a think tank RethinkX that released a report claiming that the livestock industry will collapse by 2030, and be replaced by a system they're calling...

Food-as-Software, in which individual molecules engineered by scientists are uploaded to databases – molecular cookbooks that food engineers anywhere in the world can use to design products in the same way that software developers design apps.

I'm finding it hard to be excited about this for some odd reason

Where's the evidence for lower environmental impacts. That's literally what we're here for.

There will be an increase in the amount of electricity used in the new food system as the production facilities that underpin it rely on electricity to operate.

well that doesn't sound good.

This will, however, be offset by reductions in energy use elsewhere along the value chain. For example, since modern meat and dairy products will be produced in a sterile environment where the risk of contamination by pathogens is low, the need for refrigeration in storage and retail will decrease significantly.

Oh, so it will be better for the Earth because...we won't need to refrigerate. ????????

Oh Lord Jesus give me some numerical values.

Modern foods will be about 10 times more efficient than a cow at converting feed into end products because a cow needs energy via feed to maintain and build its body over time. Less feed consumed means less land required to grow it, which means less water is used and less waste is produced. The savings are dramatic – more than 10-25 times less feedstock, 10 times less water, five times less energy and 100 times less land.

There is nothing else in this report that I can find that provides evidence for a lower carbon footprint. Supposedly, an egg white protein produced through a similar process has been found to reduce environmental impacts, but mostly everything seems very speculative.

And crucially none of these estimations are taking into account the enormous cost and resource investment of constructing large factories that use this technology in the first place (existing use is mostly for pharmaceutical purposes)

It seems like there are more tech startups attempting to use this technology to create food than individual scientific papers investigating whether it's a good idea. Seriously, Google Scholar and JSTOR have almost nothing. The tech of the sort that RethinkX is describing barely exists.

Apparently Liberation Labs is planning to build the first large-scale precision fermentation facility in Richmond, Indiana come 2024 because of the presence of "a workforce experienced in manufacturing"

And I just looked up Richmond, Indiana and apparently, as of RIGHT NOW, the town is in the aftermath of a huge fire at a plastics recycling plant and is full of toxic debris containing asbestos and the air is full of toxic VOCs and hydrogen cyanide. ???????????? So that's how having a robust industrial sector is working out for them so far.

#CAPITALISM IS THE PROBLEM #AAAAAAAAAA #farming #sustainability

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wildmrmix · 2 months ago

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12:30 I’m here to spread some Curly Johnny Ponyboy friendship based on what I used to do with old friends.

They’re all pretty chill with affection, especially with those they’re comfortable with. So sometimes they’ll go down to the lot and Ponyboy will lean against Johnny, and Curly will just… stand there before eventually sitting on Pb’s other side and very slowly start to lean against him as well (he will deny purposefully initiating any kind of affection till his last breath). And then they all just talk absolute trash about people. 3 boys alone for hours what will they do: make fun of people. Sometimes it’s strangers, sometimes it’s people from their school, sometimes it’s other buddies; nobody’s safe.

Sometimes Curly’ll come by the lot just to see if Ponyboy’s there yet, though he doesn’t just ditch if it’s only Johnny. I mean, he did, but then it got kind of weird to interact with the guy you very obviously ignored a handful of times. Those two are awkward as hell without Ponyboy being their middle ground in conversations, but they become actually acquainted with the other through these accidental lot-meetups. At least, as much as you can with how quiet Johnny is

On weekends, sometimes they try to push the curfew and go out to places like the Dingo, or the park, or sometimes they simply walk around for a while after dark. They make fun of and poke at and tease each other, sometimes giving out stupid dares just for laughs. And sometimes they will all just sit and smoke, ranting about their problems not because they’re inherently overwhelming at the moment, but because the others will listen.

During lunch periods, if Curly’s set on the idea enough, he’ll get Ponyboy and Johnny to ditch for a bit and they go off behind the school building to waste the period away. One time they walked off and found a storage/ water tank some ways away and they climbed onto it. Curly lost a ring on it and they ended up spending the rest of their time there trying and failing to find and grab it.

#I am so very tired idk if this makes sense #they’re friends your honor I just don’t know how to write people being as close as my friend group w/o it sounding romantic #anyways yeah I love the johnny hating curly hc but also. let curly trash talk around johnny because the guy’ll actually listen #they are buddies trust. i actually emailed s.e. hinton and she told me herself straight up #this post isn’t going to make any sense in the morning is it #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #curly shepard

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thorny-person · 4 months ago

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marine aliens again

I was thinking up some world beholding things for my aliens again, mainly the manatee based one but some aspects could work for the rest unless I get a different idea later

More information about the doodles below if you’re interested, like a lot of info lol.

Top left corner: I was thinking how they manatees may depict themselves or simplify their image and I ended up with these little idols! They would most commonly be carved from drift woods or stone in common use such as toys, decor, art, etc. with the exception of larger more intricate idols used for offerings, statues or alters with the swirls on them showing areas of importance or strength

Left middle: manatee patterns tend towards rounded shapes, circles and wiggly lines as it reminds them or various shapes of water, stones, swaying plants in the currents and so on. This also carries over into their food prep in some ways, such as the small rounded shapes of stuffed knotted plants for common meals while the larger ‘leaf’ patterns are used in mass storage of stable plants such as kelps and seaweeds.

Bottom left: a manatee tapestry idea depicting a matron, made from various fibers of marine plants. Culture wise weaving, macrame, and other various similar crafts are import to them since they view the actions as essential to their lifestyles for fabrics of various uses like clothing and bedding as well as being able to properly store large quantities of staple foods.

Top right: the common ‘bowl’ types for under water dining, left one is for ‘sinking’ foods that you don’t have to worry about floating away from the table while downturn right ‘bowl’ is for such foods that you would expect to float away. The downturn ‘bowels’ can also come in clear glass varieties depending on location to allow the person to see what they’re getting, larger restaurants normally have this option.

Right middle: common utensils for underwater dining, hooked is mainly for meats or scooping things out of shells/exoskeletons. The two pronged utensil is used for mostly plant based foods or large pieces of a meal. Spoons or ‘tailed’ utensils are for meals with many small pieces that are stuck together which isn’t a common occurrence outside of things like caviar or mushed foods to help a calf struggling to adjust to solid foods after being weened off of milk. Gripped tongs are used for live food that would be unsafe to eat if it wear dead, similar to lobster being unsafe when it’s not fresh but manatees just decide to eat those types of critters live (young calf’s who haven’t had live meals yet will often dare each other to do so while hanging out)

Right bottom: shown here is the dining table preferred by manatees with anchor bars to hold the meal bowls securely, normally with multiple anchors for each person wether it’s for mixed meals or the average meal which compared to a humans (2-3% of their weight) to a manatees (15-20% of their weight) is a lot of food or at the very least calorie rich. The middle groove serves as an arm rest as well as safe spot for each persons utensils to be stored, sanitary items to clean up before and after meals.

Finally on the bottom are ports that have retractable fresh water taps to drink with meals that typically connects to a water tank below the table that’s connected to a large tank of clean salt water that is processed into fresh as needed. Each tap has a twistable ring around the nozzle to stop the one way water flow to help avoid drinking the salt water in the room as well as to prevent waste of fresh water.

#my art #digital sketch #sophont #spec bio #speculative biology #marine alien #worldbuilding #drawing

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mayawakening · 8 months ago

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I think I've finally decided how I want the bathroom on the Ghost to function!! So, canon layout of the Ghost has no bathroom, and questionable amenities, leaving most of that up to the imagination of the viewer. I think for the stories I write (and if anyone else likes it, feel free to use!) im going to have it as follows:

-Storage tank: The Ghost has a water reserve storage tank used for the sake of crew hydration and minimal galley use if necessary.

-Cleaning: Dishes are typically placed in a Waterless Sonic Vibration cabinet for cleaning, which disintegrates food particles. This then gets released at will into space during travel. Any food residue that cannot be shaken loose by the Sonic, get scrubbed by hand when convenient.

Instead of rinsing hands/objects in a sink (which is possible, I'll cover water in a second), messes are normally cleaned with rags and commercial long-storage wipes and cleaners that weigh less and take up less space than an additional water system would.

-Laundry: dirty laundry also gets stashed into a Waterless Sonic Cabinet that is more gentle than the one used for dishes. Ezra tried to use the Dish sonic for clothes once and it ended up tearing his shirt appart. Sabine does this intentionally to give fabric a 'distressed' look.

-Toilet: like the food particles in the dish sonic, waste is collected and offloaded or released into space when convenient.

-Trash: collected trash is also stored where room is available and offloaded when convenient. If done planetside, some spaceports charge a fee for trash removal.

-Shower: When in space, the crew uses another, larger Convertible Waterless Sonic to remove residue from themselves. Its works well, but its not terribly comfortable. Ezra tried to use it fully clothed once to 'save time'. This resulted in dirt particles getting trapped and rubbing between him and his clothes, giving him a series of painful static shocks. Zeb hates using it as it makes his fur feel wrong.

-Water!!: When on a planet with readily available water, the Ghost's water tank has a Y-shaped hose that can either be connected to a utility pipe, or just dropped into whatever random lake they find. The water passes through one half of the hose to a pipe that runs up along the engine to both heat the water and boil away bacteria before the crew drinks it.

The other side of the hose provides plain cold water for the Convertible Sonic. The pipes converge in a way that allows shower temperature control for a comfortably warm water-shower. This is when Sabine typically dyes her hair and she will fight anyone to the death to be the first one in. This is also when water is more readily available in the galley. Waste water drains back out of a seperate hose.

Before heading into space, and if they aren't being chased, they make sure everyone has a chance to have a water-shower and fill the crew-hydration tank.

They once were chased off of a planet by angry villagers after dropping the intake hose into an apparently 'sacred lake'. Zeb, who was the only one that got to use the shower before leaving, occasionally jokes about his 'holy baptism' and 'you know, on that one planet, I'm actually considered a priest'.

#star wars rebels #star wars #sw rebels #swr #The Ghost #headcanon

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waywardsalt · 4 months ago

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rough rough draft of chapter 1 of the bellum x linebeck fic

Though the storm had passed and the sun finally shown upon the sea again, Linebeck felt gloomy. He leaned against his ship’s rope railings and stared at the horizon. The night before, the pounding of the rain had put him at ease. Now, the bright afternoon had brought back that familiar anxiety. After some thinking, Linebeck pushed himself away from the railing and resolved to begin his morning chores.

As the only person on his ship, it was up to Linebeck to take care of it- and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He knew his beloved steamship like the back of his hand, and he collected a bucket as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Firstly, he gathered seawater to dump into the engine’s storage tank. The ship was drifting at the moment, but once Linebeck would turn it on, the heat would build up in the engine and the water would boil and evaporate and build up steam to get the wheels moving.

Linebeck knelt at the lowest edge of the deck and dunked the bucket into the water for the ninth- tenth? - time. He’d have to do some extra engine maintenance before he got moving. He’d been traveling during the entire storm, likely pushing the engine to its limits. But after the water gathering, Linebeck checked the hull for barnacles and scratches, checked the railings for damaged rope, checked his food and water supplies, barely giving himself a moment of rest while he went through the familiar motions.

Since he began sailing, Linebeck’s life had been altogether monotonous and unpredictable. His ship was one he had designed himself, and knew better than anyone else how to take care of and operate it. He had no desire to take on a crew, and knew from experience that they’d only hold him back- trying to teach new people how to work his ship was incredibly tedious and often led to them making mistakes and doing more harm than good. The last bastard he’d temporarily hired and bothered to teach about his ship- Linebeck scowled and shook his head. Not even worth thinking about, now.

The storm had replenished his fresh water supply. It had been bad enough to obscure visibility across the sea, so Linebeck had done some fishing. If he cared for gods, he would have thanked one that he made it through without getting sick.

He didn’t need a crew. Linebeck hadn’t had a long-term crew member for what- seven years now? They just made him feel uneasy and he could never muster up the patience to put up with them.

Or maybe he kept finding the wrong people. That had certainly happened before. He was never particularly good with other people. Linebeck was almost certain that he’d made a good few new enemies just in the last month. His eyes scanned the horizon as he walked back out onto the deck. Linebeck tightened his grip on his mop’s handle. He was totally alone. And yet his skin prickled with unease.

“…No point worrying,” he mumbled to himself. He started mopping the deck, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the wood. His last chore of the morning was always the most soothing. He moved slowly and rhythmically, beginning at the prow and slowly making his way back to the cabin. His ship was small, though large enough to be comfortable for him. The deck sloped upwards a few feet from the cabin and plateaued, about a foot higher and better to accommodate the rooms and machinery beneath.

The air was warm and humid; Linebeck brushed his hair out of his face and behind his shoulders. He considered removing his coat, but he was nearly done mopping- no point in wasting the time. The heat was never a big issue for him. He was perfectly suited to the sea, and Linebeck felt more than confidant handling every aspect of this life on his own. No problems whatsoever. No good reason for the anxiety that refused to leave his mind.

Maybe there was a good reason, the same reason why he kept scanning the horizon.

Finished mopping the deck, Linebeck turned to admire it. The storm had cleaned it well enough, but now that the sky was clear he wasn’t just going to cut out part of his morning routine.

With everything done for the morning, Linebeck gathered up his mop and the bucket and moved to put them away. The bucket would be dumped out and left with other containers in the storage room, the mop left in the engine room… and then the engine would need to be started up. The nearest inhabited island was two days away (with good conditions), so while Linebeck had no need to get going right that moment, he felt safer with the engine running.

To get the engine started, Linebeck pulled a lever by the wheel up and waited a moment as he heard the hissing of steam start, and then stop. He knelt down in front of the storage tank. Enough water for the day, that was for sure. He withdrew his matchbox from a pocket in his coat and struck a match, humming idly to himself as he tossed it in the space below the water. It would only be a few minutes before the ship could get going; over the years, Linebeck had gone back and forth on the design of the engine, and managed to make it especially efficient with different materials and methods, and was quite proud of it. While the water heated up, he shut the tank door and sat back, resting a moment.

He’d gotten… some sleep last night. He’d dreamed briefly, and didn’t feel as terrible as he usually did. Some sleep. Better than no sleep at all. Linebeck laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He stared at the winding pipes at the tops of the walls and then shut his eyes. If he was lucky, he could perhaps find a few minutes to nap. Just a few minutes…

The ticking of the machinery around him slowly faded in as the engine properly started up. The sound melted into with the noise of the ocean outside, and Linebeck felt his anxieties ease. The familiarity of his daily routine eased his mind like nothing else.

The next island was north of his position… Linebeck let out a long breath. He’d have to at least position his ship facing north, and get started within the hour. He sat up and stretched. If he got started now, he could reach the island by late tomorrow. The engine was ready to go, and Linebeck smiled to himself as he fiddled with some of the smaller levers and switches, listening to the subtle changes in the ticking and clicking around him.

He paused when he heard up an unfamiliar noise. Linebeck stilled his hands, suddenly feeling cold.

Without thinking, Linebeck kicked the engine into proper operation and after a moment, the wheels on either side of the ship started turning and he quickly steered the ship in the opposite direction of that odd sound. He heard it again, from outside his ship- the unmistakable sound of cannon fire, and Linebeck was not brave enough to stop and check to see if it was aimed at him.

It was usually aimed at him, anyways.

Linebeck steered his ship away and locked the wheel in place; he felt his heart pounding in his chest as more muffled canon fire reached his ears. One sounded closer than the rest, and he managed to tear himself away from the wheel and run up to deck. Running away was nice, but he needed to know where to run away to.

It seemed like he was getting chased more and more. Linebeck figured he ought to start a list of the crews that had it out for him; that was something to do once he was safe. He stumbled out onto the deck and leaned over the rope railing, staring at the southern horizon. Sure enough, he could see a pirate ship in the distance heading his way, and the wind was in their favor.

Linebeck gripped the railings until the rope started to dig into his skin. The hell did he do to them? He recognized the decorated sails as the sails of the ship that’d been pursuing him before the storm. Their captain was one he’d cheated out of several hundred rupees in poker- or was that a different crew? No time to think it over while they got closer and closer. More cannon fire rang out, and Linebeck jumped back as the cannonball splashed into the water dangerously close to his ship.

Sailing in a straight line was a terrible idea. Better to leverage his steamship’s advantages and focus on disrupting their aim. Linebeck wildly looked around. No rocks or islands in sight. His best hope was to run for it and hope that either they’d run out of cannonballs or the wind would die down. He raced back inside.

He was just one man; why did all of these pirates decide that being slighted by him once marked him as the biggest threat to them on the entire Great Sea? Pirates were so petty. He flinched when he heard a muffled splash and felt the ship rock. Linebeck gripped the wheel tightly and started turning the ship west, his sweaty hands almost slipping off. He gritted his teeth as the cannon fire sounded closer and the ship rocked again.

The last time he’d been pursued like this, a cannonball had burnt his hull and cost him several days of sleep. Linebeck turned the ship far enough around to spy the pursuing pirates again; the moment he heard the cannon fire again, he spun the wheel to sail in the opposite direction. Turning was slow, but his ship never stopped moving. He’d had nightmares about one of the wheels being damage, and Linebeck felt weak in the knees just thinking about it.

As the pirate ship slipped out of view, the waters around his ship were more violently disrupted, and Linebeck yelped as his ship was more violently rocked by the waves. There was no cannon fire, no sound of a cannonball hitting the waves- and the water was clearly churning too violently for it to have been a cannonball. He clung to the steering wheel for dear life, his knees nearly buckling underneath him, and the cacophonous sound of an especially large wave made him wince. The ship rocked again, but still no cannon fire. Instead, Linebeck picked up a new muffled noise.

…Splintering wood?

The wood of his own ship was fine, there was no motion asides from the violent waves rocking his ship, but the distant splintering continued, and with it, faraway screams. For the second time in barely five minutes, Linebeck’s curiosity prevailed over his fear. On shaky legs he stumbled up onto his deck- slick with water that had poured onboard, and nearly fell over the railings when he reached them.

The pursuing pirate ship was being torn apart by something. Something had pulled the main mast down and split it in half, tearing through the sails and ripping the vessel in half. Linebeck squinted, hardly seeing anything that could be causing it, then caught a glimpse of what looked like a thick black rope curled around the prow, tearing it clean off and dragging it into the sea. The way those ‘ropes’ moved; Linebeck slowly slid down into a crouch as he realized that a sea monster was what was attacking that ship.

One pirate jumped from where the prow had been, likely trying to escape and swim away, but a black tentacle shot out of the water and grabbed them midair and yanked them below the water. Linebeck felt frozen to the spot, more than grateful that he wasn’t the creature’s target, but he feared that if he took advantage of the chaos and sailed away, he would be attacked next.

The pursuing ship began to sink, and the sharp cracking of wood was piercing as it reached Linebeck’s ears. The hull was torn in two, more tentacles appearing to crush them into unsalvageable wreckages. The fear that shot through Linebeck urged him to straighten back up. He started to hurry back into the engine room, but stopped in his tracks as the tentacles withdrew back into the water.

The pirate ship’s remains slowly sank, survivors clinging to any floating pieces. Linebeck stared at the water around his ship. That… thing had stopped. That sea monster that he and those pirates had the misfortune to disturb.

That sea monster- Linebeck had researched every possible hostile creature that had been seen on the Great Sea, and that certainly had to have been one of them. He grabbed onto his railing again, feeling too sick to move his gaze from the sinking ship down to the waters just below him. He stood at the end of the railing, steady on the sloping deck despite the way his limbs shook and his heart hammered in his chest.

There was a sea monster in these waters. It had just wiped out an entire pirate crew in hardly a minute. From what Linebeck could recall, that pirate crew was rather prepared and experienced, and their ship certainly wasn’t some glorified piece of driftwood. This wasn’t just an overgrown gyorg or some other typical sea monster- he was at the mercy of the kind of sea monster that had stories passed around. The kinds that endured for decades or even centuries and were either worshipped or feared. He’d never seen a regular sea monster that had those kinds of tentacles and was that quick and deadly.

One of the stranded pirates was suddenly and violently pulled under water. Linebeck lowered himself back down to a crouch, staring at the now-empty patch of water. After a few moments, a faint red hue bloomed from deep under the surface.

I’m going to die.

The thought seemed to echo in Linebeck’s head. It wasn’t a thought he was unfamiliar with, but it was much, much more frantic now than ever. He was going to drown or be eaten. Even if he got out unscathed, his ship likely wouldn’t, and that sounded just as bad as if he got injured. Linebeck shakily stared down at the water mere feet from him. Every tiny wave and ripple in the water heightened his anxiety, and his mind raced. Another pirate was pulled under the water, eaten, and the waters were still for a moment. Then, there was a subtle ripple further away from the wreckage and closer to Linebeck’s ship.

How do I get out of this?

Linebeck’s terror forced him to his feet, and he raced into his ship’s cabin. That monster was more than capable of catching up with that pirate ship, and Linebeck stumbled on his way down the stairs as his ship rocked slightly.

This monster was capable of killing and catching him with ease, and it tore apart that pirate ship with ease, and it was eating the survivors, and Linebeck was up next if he didn’t think fast. His feet brought him into his ship’s cramped kitchen, and he stood still in the doorway for a moment. His fear and quick-thinking seemed to crash into each other, and his mind went blank as he stared around. Linebeck switched his attention from his utensils to the fish he’d recently caught and had yet to clean to the cupboards. Why the hell had he run here?

The sea monster killed all of the pirates. It was probably chasing after him now. It tore apart the ship, and… ate the pirates. Ate the pirates. Linebeck stared at his recently-caught fish. There were a pair of smaller amberjacks he’d picked up during the storm, a seabass he had a few different plans for, and then a large loovar he’d been planning to sell. He suddenly felt itchy looking at that loovar. He was going to sell it. It was a large, pristine loovar, with sleek, undamaged scales and was over five feet long and took up the entire counter that fit in the narrow kitchen. It was valuable and would net him a good sum of rupees at the next island he docked at.

Linebeck’s ship rocked again, violently enough to knock him off balance. The terror finally mixed with his quick thinking and he grabbed and yanked the loovar off the counter, stumbling a moment under its weight. He slung it over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs, his shoulder aching before he was even in the engine room. Goddesses, his coat was going to reek if he made it out of this alive.

He paused to grab his mop and tuck it into the crook of his elbow and stumbled a bit, stubbornly keeping the fish from touching the floor. The ship rocked under his feet again, and Linebeck shuddered and hurried out onto the deck. The water around his ship’s hull ripped every few moments, and Linebeck didn’t hesitate in letting the loovar drop onto the wood. He kicked it off the deck, and it fell unceremoniously into the water and floated barely a few inches from the hull- too close.

With the mop he prodded at it and sent it floating slowly away from his ship. And so, Linebeck huddled at the edge of his deck, leaning against his mop for support. For just a moment, the waters were still. The loovar bobbed on the water’s surface and the sunlight glinted off its scales. Linebeck exhaled slowly. For all he knew, the monster could have already left. He could probably grab the loovar if he was careful.

Linebeck started to reach back out with the mop, but drew it back as the water around the loovar suddenly started to ripple. The rippling grew more furious, and the water began to bubble and small waves started rushing out from around the fish- a dark shape was just barely visible deep in the water. The shape rushed to the surface, and Linebeck only got the quickest glimpse before falling backwards onto the deck as the largest waves yet set his ship violently rocking.

It was huge, easily half the size of his ship, and a stunning yellow. For the split second he saw it, Linebeck couldn’t discern any detail, but he didn’t miss the mouth full of sharp teeth that engulfed the loovar. Linebeck had fallen onto his back and didn’t dare move as the sea calmed down, the blurry image of the beast burnt into his mind. He stared up at the sky and realized that the fear in his chest had eased. Had he appeased the creature? The rocking of his ship slowly stopped, and he felt he was in no hurry to get up.

There was a slight splashing, and Linebeck jolted upright. He stared off the edge of the deck, at where the loovar had been floating. It stared back at him. The sunlight glinted off its yellow body, greenish in some spots, and golden in others. Under the water, the rest of it was just a murky shadow. In its mouth, encircled by those teeth, was an eye that stared back at him, the tiny pupil within a burning yellow and orange, surrounded by deep black. A monstrous eye, and one that Linebeck could’ve sworn he’d seen somewhere. Something about the thing’s unblinking gaze made a sense of visceral horror return to Linebeck, and before he could think it through, he scrambled to his feet.

The creature didn’t move in the water, but its eye followed his movements. Despite the hammering of his heart, Linebeck couldn’t tear his gaze away from that eye. His limbs felt locked in place, and his breathing came in in ragged gasps and he realized just how bad his situation had gotten. There was no way that loovar was enough to save him. He’d seen the way the creature had torn apart that pirate ship. He’d seen the way it had grabbed and killed those pirates. There was nothing keeping it from killing him next.

Then, without any sound but the sounds of the water, the creature sank down into the ocean and out of sight.

Linebeck immediately hurried back into his cabin, just barely remembering to snatch up his mop.

He wasted no time in getting his ship up and running again, and set a course for the island before even thinking of relaxing. Linebeck anxiously surveyed the sea as he steered the ship away, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary.

…Maybe the loovar had satisfied that… thing. Linebeck tried not to think much about it. But his nerves were still shot by the encounter, and he stiffly steered until the sun began to set.

He didn’t anchor the ship until stars glittered in the sky. Linebeck moved gingerly around his ship, half expecting that monster to return. But the evening was quiet, and Linebeck eventually felt relaxed enough after doing his rounds. He collected every book he had that mentioned sea monsters and went out on deck to read and rest.

Linebeck rested against the prow. He set the books in his lap and started flipping through each one, quickly skipping through what turned out to be a catalogue of common seafaring enemies, and finding a short collection of short stories based on powerful creatures around the world. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, Linebeck finally reached a much more informative book- one that had been gathering dust at the edge of the shelf- and flipped through more slowly, inspecting each illustration. Dragons, sentient plants, fish creatures, and Linebeck slowed down upon reaching the chapter reserved for deities. It didn’t take long for him to turn a page and find a familiar illustration.

It was little more than a collection of sketches, but that eye was unmistakable. Linebeck leaned over the book with a small spark of triumph in his heart. He was right- it was one he’d heard of before, a creature named ‘Bellum’. Apparently a powerful, demonic sea monster.

Linebeck felt a faint shiver down his spine and he sat up and stared off across the sea. He shut the book and gathered up the rest. Back in the cabin, he locked the door out, and hesitated with his hand on the knob. That nearby island was his destination, a small island with a small town that he’d been for. He needed supplies, needed to restock on food and parts and whatever else eluded him at the moment.

He double-checked the lock and silently headed down into the storage room. Linebeck left the volume with the information on Bellum on the table, and put the rest back on the bookshelf behind the thin bar that kept them from falling out.

Bellum.

Linebeck turned and stared at the book on the table. In the dim light of the few lit lanterns in the room, the book seemed almost ominous with its dark cover and elaborate spine. Where had he picked this one up? Was it one from home, or something he’d bought on a whim a while ago? Either way, it was worth reading through and taking notes on- even if the information he wanted seemed to only take up two pages.

Linebeck idly rubbed his hands together. The only indication of his lingering anxiety was the thin layer of sweat on his palms. Most sea monsters were known through shared stories and rumored sightings. Once he got all he could from the book, he could start asking around at islands. With any luck, though, he wouldn’t have to see that thing again.

#my writing #cant remember the other tag and i do NOT have time to check #uhhhhhh would greatly appreciate feedback/constructive criticism #just know that ill disregard anything related to the story bc thats set in stone- looking more for stuff with the actual prose #or a bit on how linebeck is written (he doesnt feel. anxious. enough so i will ahve to work on that)#if the formatting is fucked then idk. when i posted that warriors thing a while back it fucked up the formatting then too #tbh. not feeling as bad abt this as i wqs before giving a quick editing read through. i still think it needs some real work tho #‘with any luck though he wouldn’t have to see that thing again’ <- thoughts of a guy whos gonna fuck that thing by the end of the year #depends on your definition of fuck ig. i know whats going and i think fuck is a bit if an exaggeration but its also funny #anyways i haved mixted feelings on this but i do really want to improve it so. this aint ff.net or ao3 but id appreciate uh. replies?#whatever here its just shy of 4k words iirc #long post

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sameeksha-4717 · 7 days ago

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#Wastewater storage tanks in Dubai #Waste water storage tanks #Wastewater storage tanks in UAE #Waste water storage tanks in Dubai-UAE #Prefabtanks in Dubai

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harshdakadam · 2 months ago

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#Waste water storage tanks #Wastewater storage tanks in Pune #Wastewater storage tanks in India #Prefab tanks storage tank #waste water tank design #waste water tank

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reactor-four-official · 2 years ago

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The Campaign of the Biorobots

An early photo of the destroyed reactor hall at CHNPP. Highly radioactive debris covers the roofs in front of and behind the ventilation chimney, as well as several other lower roofs.

The explosion at the Chernobyl Atomic Energy Station on the morning of April 26th, 1986, ripped apart the very core of the reactor itself. Debris from this explosion was scattered over a large area, mostly on the grounds of the plant itself. Much of it ended up at the base of the northern wall of the reactor hall, which had itself collapsed. The remaining majority of this debris was thrown onto the roofs of the plant building, which itself had many levels and tiers. All of this debris was dangerously radioactive and much of the radiation close to the plant came from this debris.

The Soviet government, eager to be done with the Chernobyl Accident, set blisteringly tight deadlines on the liquidation efforts. To finish the Sarcophagus, an important milestone set by the government, the debris had to be cleared. They also demanded the plant be made safe so that the other three undamaged reactors could be reactivated to salvage some of their badly damaged reputation both domestically and abroad. Without clearing the debris, the reactor building of Unit 3 would have so irradiated that it would not be safe to send personnel to operate it.

The debris itself was composed of reactor components, primarily graphite, metal piping, and other assorted hardware, such as control rods and fuel assemblies. Some debris was also parts of the destroyed reactor hall. Uranium fuel pellets were also common in this area. They were still so active that they melted down into the bitumen roofing of the plant, essentially gluing them to the roof.

Radiation levels around the plant were edging apocalyptic, but they were nowhere near the levels on the roofs of the plant. These roofs were split into three areas by elevation and radiation level and named after three women related to General Nikolai Tarakanov, deputy commander of the Civil Defense Forces of the USSR. Area Katya had the lowest level of radiation, at about 1,000 roentgen per hour. Area Natasha was twice as active, with up to 2,000 roentgen per hour. But they both paled in comparison with Area Masha. This roof, the smallest but highest of the three, had fields of up to 10,000 roentgen per hour. It would take less than three minutes to receive a lethal dose here.

Below: A map of the three named roofs.

Photo credit: u/0utlander

Clearing this debris and decontaminating the buildings was a monumental task. The Chernobyl plant, an enormous construction, had many different levels to its roof that now needed to be reached and then cleared by the commission in charge of liquidation efforts. Made up of several different representatives of different ministries and enterprises within the Soviet government, they had the all resources of the USSR at their disposal.

The commission turned to NIKIMT, a Soviet think tank. This laboratory had already invented several solutions to many problems within the Chernobyl Zone, and this time they delivered another cheap yet effective idea. They proposed laying huge cloth sheets covered in water soluble glue on top of the debris, and then when the glue dried lifting the sheets away via one of the large cranes already on site building the Sarcophagus and burying it as high level radioactive waste. However, SREDMASH refused to let them use any of the cranes to test these out, as Sarcophagus construction needed to continue 24 hours a day. After this setbacks NIKIMT then proposed lifting the sheets with helicopters, but were again denied due to the dust these helicopters would kick up.

The Ministry of Energy, responsible for reactivating and subsequently operating the plant, had its own plan. They would use robots to clear the debris. Two Soviet lunar rovers were brought out of storage and retrofitted with bulldozer blades and a frame to attach a wire to lift them onto the roof via helicopter. Also brought in was a specialized West German robot named ‘Joker’, which was designed specifically to handle radioactive material. These robots had some success, notably in Zone K. Ultimately however, these robots all failed. Their circuits were severely damaged by the gamma radiation fields on the roofs, and they got stuck on debris and in the bitumen roofing. Even Joker, supposedly designed to operate in such hostile environments, got stuck when it drove over a piece of graphite and got it lodged in its treads. When it was retrieved, it was revealed it too had succumbed to the gamma field. Whoever had ordered it from West Germany had immensely underrepresented the level of radiation it would be facing.

Below: A retrofitted lunar rover cleans debris off of Zone K before its untimely demise.

Below: The West German robot, Joker, is checked over by technicians before being deployment on the roof of the plant.

On September 16, 1986, the government commission convened for an important meeting. All other means of clearing the roof had failed, and the specialists of the Ministry of Energy requested that men be sent to clear the rooftops. This unpleasant prospect had been long delayed in the hopes of finding a better solution, but now it remained the only choice to clean the roof before the completion of the Sarcophagus.

General Tarakanov began preparations to send the men under his command to the roof. He set up a mock rooftop complete with real graphite blocks and reactor components, pulled from the unfinished reactors 4 and 5, which had been under construction at the time of the accident. Since they were never used, these components were not radioactive. Protective clothing was procured, and tests were conducted on its effectiveness and the level of radiation a soldier would absorb working in the area. Routes were planned to the roofs. It was determined that the waste from the roofs would be thrown into the ruins of Reactor 4, to be sealed away under the Sarcophagus with the rest of the reactor.

Below: General Nikolai Tarakanov debriefs a group of biorobots after their sortie at the CHNPP. Tarakanov was well respected by his men and the other government ministers for taking a leading role in cleaning the roof. He personally handed out the bonus awarded to every group of biorobots after their mission and supervised the missions daily. Liquidators were limited to only 25 REM (roentgen equivalent man, basically total exposure), but the general spent so much time at the plant that he accumulated a dose of nearly 200 REM. He survived after hospitalization.

The soldiers assigned to clean the roofs, known (with not a little irony) as 'bio-robots', were outfitted with heavy leather aprons, lead sheeting torn from within buildings in Pripyat for their chests and heads, respirators, and goggles. They were given shovels and rakes to clear debris, stretchers and wheelbarrows to carry large pieces of graphite, and sledgehammers to smash any fuel pellets melted into the roof of the plant. The equipment was slipshod, the danger unclear, and the task monumental. But on September 19th, three days after the order to send men onto the roofs was issued, the general's men commenced their campaign.

Below: Two men help a Biorobot prepare to go out onto one of the roofs. Note the lead plate on his chest and leather apron on his back.

They went in small groups of 2-4 men, with another man timing them to limit their dose and ensure they did not linger too long on the rooftop. Most sorties lasted about a minute and a half, with some going as short as 20 seconds depending on the mission of a group. After receiving their orders, the men ascended through the maze of corridors to the roof they had been assigned to decontaminate. They donned their shielding, almost negligible in such strong radiation fields, and waited by one of several entrances to the roofs. Upon the signal of their supervisor, they would run out onto the roof, throw as much debris into the reactor ruins nearby, and then when the signal (usually a siren or a pipe hit with a hammer) was given they ran back inside of the plant. They removed the heavy and constraining aprons and shielding, and shuffled back down the stairs. Every man's contribution was marked down in a log book, with their name next to how much debris they had thrown back into the reactor. You can find footage of one of these sorties to Zone M here.

Igor Kostin, a reporter assigned to cover the accident, made five trips to the rooftops himself with cameras shielded in lead to capture the work of the biorobots. The radiation in these areas was so intense that it left ghostly waves on the film of photographs taken in these areas. You can see some of these photos below.

A group of bio robots works in Zone M, the most dangerous of the three roofs.

Below: Two biorobots carry a large graphite chunk on a wooden stretcher, again in Zone M. This method was used to carry large and unwieldy pieces that could not be lifted by shovel.

In the end, 3,828 men would work to clear the roofs of the Chernobyl Atomic Energy Station. The operation to clear them lasted from September 19th until October 1st, 12 days. The same day the operation was declared complete, Reactor 1 came online for the first time since the accident.

Radiation sickness was widespread in these men. It was common to find them curled up in the lower corridors of the plant, fighting off nausea and exhaustion. Most of these men would die young, some mere years after Chernobyl. All of them were given a little red certificate of commendation and a small cash bonus, but very little recognition was given to them after the completion of decontamination. Without them, the plant would have remained dangerously radioactive and radioactive waste would have been exposed to the atmosphere and environment for years.

Below: A group of biorobots await deployment at the CHNPP.

#chernobyl #chernobyl hbo #accidents and disasters #history #biorobots #nuclear power #radiation #nuclear #autism #disaster #reactor #chnpp #general tarakanov my beloved

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practically-an-x-man · 5 months ago

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Prompt: Write a Zombie Apocalypse AU ficlet starring your OCs (let's be real, I'm mostly just curious about your take on the Zombie Apocalypse)

Ooooooh absolutely! I LOVE zombie apocalypse media, so this will be a fun one for sure :)

Decided to go with Ophelia and a techy Andy Weir-style take on the apocalypse for this one :D

____ 8.34 Million People

Word Count: 2.2k Tags: zombie apocalypse AU, science fiction, angst, emotional hurt, hurt no comfort, unhappy ending, major character death (implied) ____

Who the hell dared to spend the zombie apocalypse in the eleventh-most populous city in the world?

That was the question Ophelia Octavius had been asking herself for nearly four years now. When all the others fled - and in various states of composure, some calm early-stage relocations and others panicked stampede-like fleeing as the outbreaks spread - she wondered time after time why she'd chosen to stay.

Sometimes she looked down at the city below her and saw only walkers, a carpet of them so thick she couldn't see street nor sidewalk past their shuffling, ragged bodies. That wasn't safe. It was madness to stay here.

But aside from the imminent threat of a zombie breach, a lingering worry that resulted in far too many sleepless nights, the rest of her life had settled into something almost normal.

What once had been Oscorp became Denarii, and what once was Denarii became a towering fortress against the horde. The first four stories had been individually barricaded, each door and window welded shut with steel plates. There was no entrance from anywhere lower than the eleventh floor - and really, who needed it? She and her father had their actuators, Norman his glider, Peter his webs. If none of them could leave from the ground, neither could the zombies enter. She'd seen World War Z.

Floors five through nine had been converted to agriculture. In the early days, when the outbreaks had still fallen under a control level, Ophelia had insisted upon ordering the soil, seeds, and a veritable library of agricultural manuals. It was a weak point for them and she knew it, and she'd be damned if their downfall came from something as simple as starvation. At first they'd only grown staple crops, corn and wheat and potatoes for easy calories. Then that had expanded into fruits and vegetables, and even cotton and flax for making cloth.

None of the men ever seemed to think about making their own clothes. Ophelia figured that was a skill best learned before she needed it. Even synthetic fibers didn't last forever.

The tenth floor was insulated into oblivion, kept near-freezing and used for food storage. They only went into that floor once a week, to prevent any energy waste as the door was opened. Energy was a commodity, these days. Electricity came from an expansive array of solar panels Ophelia and her father had installed on the roof of the building, but much of that went to keeping the laboratories powered.

The eleventh floor became a coop for laying hens, the twelfth a hold for a trio of goats. Someday, Ophelia hoped to find a way to raise a few sheep as well (wool was durable and naturally flame-retardant, and would be much more helpful than the plant-based fibers they grew on the eighth floor), but the goats and chickens had been hard enough to acquire, let alone raise, in the heart of New York City.

Rainwater was collected in a vast steel funnel affixed to the roof, though the collection tanks themselves were on the ninth floor far below. The water ran through a series of channels and aqueducts through the building, powering a network of small water wheels on its way. It resulted in a small degree of water loss, mainly through evaporation, though Ophelia felt that loss was warranted in exchange for the additional electricity it generated.

Only six people lived in the fortress that had once been Denarii: herself, her father, Norman, Peter Three, Peter Two, and May. Even with the crops and animals, electricity was more a commodity than water was. Without her machines, none of this would have been possible.

So they survived, in this tall vertical settlement the likes of which Wayside School could never dream.

She thought of expanding, sometimes. Plenty of the skyscraper's floors were still dark and empty, unused now that Norman's employees had all died, fled, or turned. More hands meant more agriculture, more variety of skills, more sophisticated life, that was the crux of human settlement.

But more citizens in this strange vertical city also meant greater spread of disease (both benign and reanimatory), greater possibility for quarrels and infighting, greater consumption of food, water, and electricity...

And she didn't like people even at the best of times.

So she'd stick with six. For now.

"Thinking too hard again?" Peter Three asked, coming up behind her and running his hands warmly over her shoulders.

"Always." Ophelia replied, distantly. It seemed she spent more time in her head than in the real world, these days. It was her ideas that had led them to safety, but now safety wasn't quite enough. This couldn't keep up forever. She only saw two options forward: to develop a more sophisticated life for her little commune here, or to develop a cure and let society begin to sort itself out again.

Or to die.

She didn't like to think about that one.

"What is it today?"

"My knee." she muttered, drumming her fingers on the blueprints in front of her, "Need to get my mobility up. I'm too slow."

The best she had now was an articulated metal brace, which allowed her a hobbling half-jog if she really pushed herself. It made her feel like Forrest Gump- not the best feeling, in her opinion. If she got swarmed without her actuators, she was as good as deli meat. That wouldn't do.

"Alright, well, just promise me you'll take a break, alright?" Peter told her, and stretched around to kiss her cheek. Olly turned, and caught a glimpse of bright red fabric.

"You're going out? Again?" she asked, swiveling to look at him directly. Sure enough, he had his Spidey-suit on, sans-mask, and appeared to be halfway through strapping on his armor - additional padding, made to deter bites and scratches, strapped around his torso, shins, and forearms in case he ran into a fight.

"I thought you just got back from the last one." Ophelia added, and found herself wringing her callused hands in her lap. Supply runs scared her. She could design the perfect bunker, encase her loved ones in this towering city of safety, but she couldn't do a damn thing about the outside world. Every time he stepped outside these walls, it felt like tugging her heart out of her ribcage and letting it lie bloody and beating on the street.

"Norman's looking for a few things. Circuit boards, and tantalum and neodynium-"

"So he's making you hunt cell phones."

"Uh- yeah, exactly. He says he's trying to make some sort of universal communication device. To talk to other survivors, I guess."

Ophelia chewed her lip, rolling her shoulders to try and dissipate the tension in her muscles. As supply runs went... rooting through the pockets of the undead in search for now-obselete mobile phones was certainly among the most dangerous.

"Make sure the batteries haven't inflated." she said, biting back everything else she really wanted to say, "You'll be dead before the walkers could even think to bite you. And- and get out of there if they start to swarm. Please. Norman's project can wait."

"I know, Ol's. I'll be careful."

"I'll come with you." she decided at once, pushing herself up and out of her seat. Her joints creaked, after so long spent hunched over her desk. Peter took her arm, giving her a bit of stability before she found her balance.

"Nah, c'mon, I'll be fine. You need to take a break anyway."

"It's the literal fucking apocalypse. My last chance to take a break was four and a half years ago."

"And thanks to you, we have a super-cool skyscraper safe haven that means you don't have to worry about zombies while you go lay down for thirty minutes."

"Peter-"

"Babe, I was doing the solo act for years before I met you, I can handle a supply run. I promise. I'll be back by three."

"And you promise you're not just chasing me away because of my bum knee?"

"Promise. Hey- you go get some rest, and tomorrow we'll go out together, alright? It's like date night."

That made her snort, and she snagged the front of his suit to pull him into a kiss.

"I love you." Ophelia murmured, "Stay safe, Spidey."

"Love you too. Be back soon."

All too soon, he'd pulled open the window at the far end of her lab and took a flying leap straight out. From the corner, her actuators whirred sympathetically. They wanted to be let free too. Ophelia had become something of a hermit over the past four years, so busy fortifying the skyscraper that she hardly ever left its walls.

True to her word, she decided to call it quits on the engineering for the day. Anxiety still racked her head-to-toe, knowing Peter was out of the sanctity of this fortress, but at least it racked her from her bed rather than the middle of her lab. That was something adjacent to rest, she thought. Sometimes that was the best she could give herself.

She didn't even realize she'd drifted off until a chime from her phone startled her awake. The phones were one of the first things she'd rigged - tapped into any cell tower she could, including some that were less-than-legal (though who really cared, at this point?), a closed connection like a souped-up set of walkie-talkies.

Still half-asleep, she answered the call and pulled the phone up to her ear.

"Peter?" Ophelia mumbled, fighting to clear the fuzz from her mind, "Hey, are you calling for backup? Where are you?"

"No, uh- Ol's, I..." he stammered from the other end of the line. His voice sounded faintly choked, and it made her hackles rise unpleasantly. Then Peter cleared his throat and tried again, "Listen, I... I'm not gonna make it home. There was a swarm, and they cornered me, and-"

"Where are you? I'll come get you. We'll bring the whole cavalry."

"No, I'm in the vents now. They can't reach me. But-"

"No." Ophelia breathed, realization striking her like a bullet to the heart, "No, no, no, Peter, you are not saying you got bitten. Your suit's tear-resistant, and with the additional padding it shouldn't have even-"

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry."

"Come home. Right now. Quickly. I'll- I'll figure something out, we'll start working on a cure- it can't be that much different from curing Norman from the Goblin serum, right? Just- just get back. We'll work this out, I promise we'll work this out." She was babbling, speaking too quickly and barely making sense, but she couldn't stop. Her hands were shaking so badly she nearly dropped the phone. She could hardly take in a breath.

"I'm not gonna make it home, Ol's. I'm half across town, I won't get back in time. I'm gone. I just, uh, wanted to tell you now. So you didn't have to find out the other way."

"Peter- let's talk about this. We need to talk about this. Just- just get as far as you can, I'll find you, I'll fix this. Tell me where you are, I'll come pick you up."

Now she was moving, limping down the hall as quickly as she could. Time was precious. She needed to find him before he lost himself entirely, or she'd be stuck desperately patrolling a city perpetually crawling with eight million of the undead.

Because she couldn't leave him. Not on her life. After everything they'd fought through to be together, she couldn't let it end like this.

She'd stop this. She'd fix this. She had to.

"Ophelia." Peter snapped, the use of her full name enough to make her pause. Then his voice softened, and he cleared his throat again like he was fighting back tears. "Ol's. Baby. I'm not gonna make it. I'm lodged in the air vent of an abandoned office building like fuckin' John McClane, and even if I made it out I'd be gone before I made it home. Just... just let it be."

"No, I'm not gonna fucking let it be, I can- I can fix this!" she snapped, only distantly noticing that her cheeks were streaked with tears, "Tell me where you are!"

"I'm gonna hang up. And then I'm gonna break my phone. Don't try to track me, Ol's, it's a death sentence." Peter insisted, his voice sterner than she'd ever heard.

He paused then, briefly. Ophelia wanted desperately to fill the silence - something, anything to make him change his mind - but she'd run out of words.

"I love you, Olly. More than anything. You know that. Thanks for keeping us safe. I'd never have made it this far without you."

"Peter, don't you dare-"

Her phone screeched with static, then went dead and silent in her hand. A guttural howl broke free from her throat, and Ophelia slumped into her desk chair. Her actuators drifted over and nosed at her arms, but she shoved them away.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd sobbed like this. It was sure to send someone running, sooner or later. Her father, or Norman, or Peter Two with his enhanced hearing...

But for now she was alone in an empty lab, drowning in grief.

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my writing #my ocs #ophelia octavius #zombie apocalypse au #ficlet #angst #no happy ending #hurt no comfort #major character death

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