#and by ‘oldest’ I mean the oldest track I put on there manually myself

[a-very-fond-farewell]

:O

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 127

Annnnd a-one, and a-two, and a queue-queue-queue!

This chapter has one of my favorite things in the world to write - Interpersonal relationships (if you are surprised, I’m going to assume you are new here....).

Specifically, one of my biggest pet-peeves is when friends or siblings are written in a way that shows that the author doesn’t actually have any friends or siblings they are close enough to that all rules of societal politeness go whizzing into some far-off dimension as soon as they are in proximity.

When I get to write a chapter with such close friends/ersatz-siblings and also have @baelpenrose cackling and egging me on, it literally makes my whole day.

P.S: If anyone has wondered about the ages of the characters, several are clearly lined out in this chapter......

EDIT: Fixed some insane formatting issues.

“The food festival, Sophia? Really?” an incredulous voice asked before the door to my office even opened all the way.

I resisted the urge to scream, but did surrender to pinching the bridge of my nose and breathing slowly. “Hello, Arthur. Do come in. Long time no see.  Of course I’m not busy…” My one day each week to have a few hours to myself - no mentees, no assistant, even Tyche was off work….

“We saw each other last night when I came over for dinner after sparring with Conor, and  you’re never busy on Saturdays, Alistair makes sure of it.” He dragged a chair in front of my desk for what I felt was the sole purpose of putting his boots on my desk instead of the conference table.

“I thought you two didn’t even like each other, how did you - “

He waved a hand dismissively. “Enemy of my best friend’s enemy is my friend, that sort of thing. Anyway - “

“Did you just call me my own worst - “

“You are, let’s not pretend otherwise. Anyway.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at me and waited for any further objections, but I couldn’t think of any. “The Food Festival. It’s my one favorite tradition on this ship until armed combat becomes a spectator sport, and you are putting Parvati and Hannah in charge of it?”

After a beat pause to make sure he was done, I glared at him. “Everyone has asked me that, and I don’t understand the issue.  They’ve both helped in the past, even before they started training to replace me.  I’ve handed more and more off to them each time, and they did great! Plus, they have three months, it will be fi - Wait, why do you even care, Arthur?”

He held up one finger with the authority of a deity who would have smited me if he could. “One, Parvati Fletcher does not like mapo tofu. You do. Specifically, you like it from that one vendor who grows her own Sichuan peppercorns and uses them like they are an infinite resource. Two, I spend entirely too much time working with Zach Khan, and he won’t shut up about how stressed Hannah is. Three - “ I was seriously starting to get concerned he actually could smite me at this point - “As much as I love you in the most platonic way possible, you are an obsessive, compulsive perfectionist who insists on doing everything herself and running herself into the ground so that everyone else has the time of their lives. So why are you trusting this, the largest and oldest event on the Ark, entirely to other people?” Dropping his boots from the desk, he leaned forward, palms down until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Sophia Reid, I swear on any god I can kill if you are dying…”

“WHAT!?” I squawked, jerking back and standing so fast I knocked my chair over. “For the love of little fish, I’m not dying! I haven’t had a near death experience in four years, thank you.”

“Three, not counting the fact that there is a reason Alistair makes you drink anything through a straw anymore.”

“How did - Nevermind.” I shook my head and tried to focus on the topic at hand. “No, I’m not dying. Nor am I injured, having a midlife crisis, rethinking my life choices any more than I ever do, or so much as in possession of a stuffy nose.” Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and started counting off before I could stop myself. “Conor and Maverick and I are fine. No, I’m not arguing with Tyche again. Yes, I’m still going to therapy. Else is fine. No new sentient plagues or rogue cult leaders that I’m aware of. Nor have I become immortal, queen of the universe, savior of humanity, pregnant by Noah, or possessed.” Carefully, I picked my chair back up and sat down.

“Good...to… know?” He gave me a funny look. “Who asked the most disturbing one?”

“Immortal or Savior of Humanity?” I asked for clarification. “Those were Maverick and Derek, respectively.”

The look only got worse. “I meant ‘pregnant by Noah’, but fascinating to see where your priorities lie….?”

“Oh. That was Charly.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly. “I had her pegged for ‘possessed’.”

“I’m pretty sure she is, but the suggestion that I am came from Tyche, on no fewer than 3 occasions, by 4 different entities. She seemed pretty hopeful that Else was potentially mind-controlling me in an effort to make me take a nap,” I admitted.

“That tracks.” A nod of approval prefaced the question I had been avoiding - successfully, thus far, I might add. “Now that you’ve ruled out every possible plausible reason that you would entrust this to literally anyone other than a clone of yourself, why?”

“Why what?” My face was composed in an expression of innocence so convincing that I probably deserved an Oscar.

“I can and will convince Charly to turn all your coffee to decaf, so help me, Sophia.”

Realizing that he was, legitimately, worried about me and at the limits of his usually-impressive patience, I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. You get the scoop.  Please record this and send me the loop, so I can just flick it at people who ask, please?” When he nodded, I exhaled slowly.  “It is no secret to anyone that I never wanted this job. I made the mistake of establishing the Food Festival, which as you point out is the largest event of the cycle on the Ark - the last three years, literally everyone attended in some capacity.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the Festival. What basically started out as a potluck because we were homesick and needed to meet - you know, the rest of humanity - is a huge, three day holiday.  It’s amazing!” I spun in my chair, arms flung wide for emphasis, before stopping to face him. 

“It also consumes my life, for months, to prepare for.  And that’s just implementing changes to make it more accessible so people don’t miss out! That doesn’t include adding things to make it more interesting or keep it from getting boring, or whatever. I literally don’t have time to do any of that!”

“So, you’re inflicting this on them instead?”

“Inflicting?” I snorted.  “Hardly. This is their final exam, their capstone project, their dissertation.  If they pull this off, I will gladly hand the entire office over to whoever is elected, cheerfully and knowing the Ark is in good hands.  But, they have to pull this off.  It’s the only major part of being Councilor of Resources and Relations that they haven’t done yet by themselves.”

He rubbed his face, looking somewhat impressed. “That’s honestly not what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think it ever is, honestly.” I shrugged at the question he glanced towards me. “For Evan, it was coordinating the weapons exhibitions.  Charly managed to pre-empt her own by designing more efficient aqueducts and filtration for when we reach Von - you know, the ones that also produce light?”

“Of course she would invent glow-in-the-dark plumbing. Who else?” Something caught up with him. “Evania Josue got away with planning an event? Seriously?”

“Oh, that’s right… you weren’t on Level One…” I murmured. When he only looked more confused, I clarified. “She was Maverick’s co-pilot when we needed people to pilot the Ark, which was not designed to pilot manually, via dead reckoning, using cameras pointed out the few viewports we have, for several weeks after the sensors were sabotaged.”

“She was whose co-pilot?”

“You really never heard this story? You practically live with seven people who were there…”

“Usually I get the bits about ‘Sophia nearly got her brains bashed out’ and ‘that traitorous bitch’, then start tuning out while I try to decide what it would take to get Charly to teach me necromancy… If Evan was the co-pilot, then why is Maverick….”

“Not in line to replace any Councilors? Arthur, we know that would be a disaster for him.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Your younger partner is a nice boy.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty seven!” I groaned.

“Nice man, whatever,” he waved off. “Which is exactly what I would like for you as a partner. You need nice partners, and blunt siblings. But I see what you mean about him being a Councilor… he’d be miserable.”

“What was yours?” I asked mischievously, dropping my chin onto my hands.

That earned me a flat stare, until he finally surrendered when I didn’t flinch. “The Twentieth/Early Twenty First History curriculum.”

“Seriously?” That had literally been the first thing he had done when Eino tapped him as a possible successor.

“I didn’t budge on points even he admitted he would have, out of fear of offending people.”

“Which is a fear you very much lack,” I pointed out.

“The truth is the truth. Coating it in sugar only makes it taste worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly before suddenly looking dangerously like he was thinking again. “There’s two of them.”

“Yes, Arthur. Hanna and Paravati are, in fact, two distinct and separate women-type-lady-people.”

“Thank you, Fee, I was well aware.” I suppressed a growl at the nickname - he knew I hated it. “I meant, only one can win the election, smartass.”

“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass,” I muttered.

“Sophia, you are forty five. Please grow up just a hair?”

“Tyche doesn’t want to be HR forever, you know.”

That brought his mind to a visibly screeching halt. “Wait, what?”

“What what?” I asked. “She does it because she is phenomenal at it, but it isn’t her passion.  She only stuck around as long as she did to make sure I didn’t trip over a chair and brain myself while I was at work.  When I’m gone, she’s gone, loser take the spoils.”

He whistled softly before shaking his head. “It’s bizarre to think of you two retiring around the same time I’m just starting the position.”

“I’ll have been a Councilor for a decade when I step down,” I pointed out.  I almost included unless I die first, but that never seemed to be as funny as I thought it was.

“But you aren’t that much older than me,” he sighed dramatically. “Anti-aging technology is frustrating.”

“Annnnd this is a natural extension of your career, with a ten year break thereabouts the middle.”  My grin was so bright it made him scowl before I finally got a begrudging smile.  “Think of it as getting elected head of the school board.”

The groan he let out probably echoed for several levels throughout the ship. I had basically just pointed out that he was becoming that which he most hated.

Or not. He seemed to recover with a gleam in his eye. “Pfft. Dean of Students, at the very least.”

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[kamejapan]

Daisy part three| EXILE TRIBE

Pushing away from the female and opening the pouch, she took out a sharpened bobby pin and pushed it into the other’s hair, making her heart stop as she continued to watch the female put more and more things in her hair to distract her from the needle she stabbed into her. 

“You know how this works Kamiya. Run. You don’t want anybody to see the medicine now do you?” She hummed as she zipped her pouch back up and turned to throw it at Likiya. “Keep it, you may need it before your wifey dies.” Fenty said as she walked back to the side of the deck and jumped back onto her boat. 

“Let’s go, Eli! We already killed an hour or two of play time!” Lashae yelled as her and Yuto turned their backs on the other boat as they went to go enjoy their time out. 

-------

As they got farther away, the trio laughed and talked about what had happened as they ate snacks and danced to the music playing throughout the boat. 

“You know, we have to see them again once we get to school.” Yuto said softly, stirring his drink. Nodding her head, Fenty hummed and leaned back in her seat, allowing the male to place his big hand on her thigh. 

“True, but I think we can get away with avoiding their asses. They’re not that special anyways besides being a large ass gang.” Lashae grunted out as she took a bite of her sandwich, the others nodding in agreement. “Maybe. I can try to kill them all throughout the year before we graduate. It will eliminate most of the population on campus.” Choking on his water and her food, the twins looked at their friend in shock, eyes almost as wide as saucers. 

“If you eliminate them, do you know what we will go through?” Yuto asked, turning slightly to look the female in the eyes as his grip on her thigh got a bit tighter. “Yeah but I mean, no harm. I can take care of them myself.” Fenty said as she leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. 

-------

It had rolled around to Monday and boy was the trio dreading it. Dragging their feet across the courtyard as they stuck together, not wanting to even attend, they slowly walked to their class as people avoided the three who’s aura could almost be seen. “Damn, who chose to come to school today?” Yuto groaned as he opened his locker and threw what he didn’t need in his bag inside. 

Grunting, the youngest of the three pointed to the oldest who only looked away. “They’re so damn big, I can’t take them down all in one night.” Fenty mumbled as Yuto punched his sister in the arm for dragging them there. Continuing to drag themselves through the halls, they made it to their classroom and threw their bags down with a thud in order. 

Everyone stared at the three for a bit before they turned back to what they were doing, paying no mind to the trio who’s heads were now on the table. “After this, I’m ditching school. No if, ands, or buts.” Fenty lowly growled out as she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. 

Hearing a tap on her desk, Fenty grabbed the person’s wrist with her eyes closed and twisted it while mumbling. “Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep.” 

A chuckle filled her ears and she groaned, ready to cuss out whoever work her up as she groaned with anger, eyes still trying to clear as she started going off. “Listen the fuck up asshole, if you don’t piss off I will end you with my bare hands. I’m trying to sleep. Now go and disappear before I manually do it.” She snarled as she put her head down on the table and closed her eyes again. 

“Well, I was going to offer some food because it seemed like you needed some. You don’t even have a bento with you.” The male voice said softly as the smaller quickly sat up and rubbed her eyes. Quickly apologizing, she replaced her bad image with her soft image and giggled. “Thanks, I’ll enjoy it. And tell your boss? Bosses that they can come to me directly instead of sending cuties like you over.” Fenty hummed out as she stood up and grabbed her bag, taking teh food quickly and walking out. 

As she left the classroom and walked towards her spot where her and her friends sat, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks as she rolled her eyes. “Well doesn’t the brat look much more alive?” Alan sneered out as he leaned against one of the locker walls and watched as the female turned towards him. “Kenta is a cutie, right? Doesn’t he look so soft and cuddly?” 

lifting a finger up to pause the taller male, she opened her bag and put the food she got inside before putting down her finger and raising a brow. “What does mommy’s boy want, hm? Another playdate scheduled between him and his babysitter?” She sneered back, crossing her arms over her chest. Standing up taller and straighter, Alan glared at the female who challenged him. “Do you want to try that again? Saying the wrong thing?” He asked lowly as he stepped closer to her, the female holding back her laughter as she stood her ground and watched the male stand in front of her face- with the exception of leaning down. 

Placing a finger on his chest and leaning back a bit, Fenty smirked and spoke slyly. “Calm down, Alan. You’re acting like a cat scratched your dick.” Shocked by her words, Alan moved away and grunted, letting her walk off as he curled his hand into a fist. Laughing softly, Fenty continued on her way to see her friends. 

--------

Opening the door to her two best friend’s classroom, the teacher paused in his tracks and stared at the female. As the two had a staring competition, Fenty noticed from the corner of her eyes that most of the boys were here in the same class with her friends. 

“Ms. Verace, how may I help you today? Have you been assigned in here today?” The professor asked as he put down his chalk and dusted his hands. Walking inside, she hummed and leaned against the teaching stand, scanning the classroom. “No, just here to steal some cuties...hm..ah. There they are. Come on you two, you don’t wanna keep me waiting now, do you?” She said as she pointed at Yuto and Lashae who only stood up awkwardly and packed their bags. 

“Ms. Verace, this is highly inappropiate-” Turning to glare at the male, Fenty raised a brow and gave him an ice cold stare. “Huh?! Were you saying something, Kazuno?” Shaking his head quickly, he mumbled out a no and turned back to what he was doing as the twins ran down the stairs and out the door, a satisfied smile on her face. “Well, I’ll see you next week Kazuno. See you later, Kanou-kun~” She taunted out as she waved teasingly and left the classroom, closing the door behind her. 

-----------

As she left, everyone in the room turned their attention to Kanou who only cursed under his breath. “Shit..” 

Sitting down at his desk and forgetting the lesson, changing it to free time/self study, the boys all gathered around the male who’s name she called. “Oi, what was that about?” Shogo asked as he sat in front of the male. Sighing quietly, Kanou looked up and shook his head. “It was obviously something, she never does that.” He said as he leaned closer and wiggled his eyebrows. “Or, are you two, you know. Doing it?” 

The others oohed as the male shook his head quickly and denied it. “No, no. Nothing like that at all. Just, we have known each other for a long time and we kind of fell apart. You know?” As the others exchanged glances with each other, Kanou sighed. “Yeah sure, that’s what all lover boys say.” Yamasho said with a snicker as the look on the male in question’s face changed. 

“Fucking hell. I don’t know why she did that.” Kanou groaned as he slammed his head on the desk. “So she’s the one you still have feelings for? I thought you said you were over her.” Sato said as everyone looked up to the male. “Shut the fuck up, Taiki. I don’t want her to know that I still like her. She’s going to absolutely destroy me.” He mumbled out as they all snapped their heads towards him. 

“What do you mean?” The male sighed and wiped the tears forming in his eyes. “It’s exactly what I said, she’ll destroy me and you. No matter what it takes because I was the one who did wrong first.”

[lifeinliminality]

BC/AD

I want to tell this story. I think it is important to tell, especially in this moment—when collectively we are straining against the changes wrought by a global pandemic.

Maybe I should start by saying that sometimes stories are something you’ve been working on in your life for years. You’ve crafted and cultivated it. Nurtured and pruned it to your liking. But this story was thrust upon me. This story began in an instant and I could do nothing but see it play out, catch up to its lightning speed pace, and hold on for dear life.

This story began on January 13, 2018 at approximately 11:30pm. It began with a sleeping child on a gurney in a hospital emergency room with his worried parents and a hesitant ER doctor.

While holding my sleeping child, I was given the worst news you could imagine: “He has blasts in his blood. When a child has these blasts it points to leukemia or lymphoma. We’ll be admitting your son tonight.” Cancer. Six letters that spell something life changing.

I remember a teacher once describing the difference between B.C. and A.D. when referring to dates in a history book. When I was a child, I used to think about it as “Before Christ” and “After Death” (meaning Christ’s death). I always thought it was such a strange and monumental way to mark time. Now, it doesn’t seem so strange. Our lives are literally divided into B.C., “Before Cancer” and A.D. “After Diagnosis.” But I’m getting ahead of myself.

For all we knew, our son was a healthy and happy almost three year old. He was a younger brother and would soon become a big brother—just two months prior to this night we had discovered we were pregnant with our third child. He liked Paw Patrol and playing soccer and other sports. An old soul from birth, our middle child both impressed and challenged my husband and I with his iron-strong will.

He had gotten a cold shortly before Christmas. But unlike before, he didn’t bounce back to his normal effervescent self. He got pale, was emotional, lost his appetite and after we spent the night of January 12th up every hour with him moaning, my husband decided to take him to the pediatric urgent care. I had to go to work that afternoon. I run a community wide children’s program in Montclair, New Jersey. My husband said he’d take both boys to the urgent care if he still wasn’t better after his afternoon nap. I met them there that evening after the event, in time to hold my son down while they fished around for a vein from which to draw blood. I hate getting blood drawn. When I was a child, I’d had to be held down because my younger brother was sick and they wanted to make sure I was okay. It traumatized me. But more than having my blood drawn, I hated having to be the one holding my child down for this. Little did I know that this would become a routine part of our existence.

While I waited with our middle son for the blood results, the other two hit up Smashburger in the strip mall next door. It was dinner time now and we were anticipating a rush once we left the urgent care to get our kids fed and ready for bed. Instead, the doctor came in and asked if there was someone local who could take care of our older son while we went to the pediatric emergency room. She was very specific: take him to [redacted for privacy]; no, you cannot go home and eat dinner with your children first. And don’t Google anything. I remember how strange that comment was—mostly because I didn’t even know what I would Google. She hadn’t told us anything about the blood results, only that we needed to go immediately to the Pediatric ER and that she’d called ahead.

We called our pastor, and his wife came over to stay with my oldest until my sister could get out to us from Long Island City.

My husband and I spent the 20-minute car ride to the emergency room trying to distract our two year old with his favorite song at the time: I’m Still Standing from the movie SING! An Elton John classic. It instantly became our mantra in the days ahead.

So there we were, the ER doctor just left the room after dropping the cancer bombshell us. I instantly started weeping, as did my husband. It was completely surreal. An orderly came in to wheel us up to the fifth floor of the hospital. We gathered our things. I was on the gurney with our still sleeping boy. It was after midnight now. January 14th. I don’t think I fully processed that leukemia was cancer until I saw the sign “Pediatric Hematology/Oncology” painted over the door we entered on the fifth floor. It was a waking nightmare.

We were 23 days in the hospital after his initial diagnosis. The first few days were a whirl of tests, surgeries and a steady rotation of doctors, nurses, and specialists. There was paperwork to sign: releasing the doctors and hospital of liability if something happened to our child when he was under sedation for a port placement, spinal tap, and chemo infusions. There was a social worker, a nutritionist, and a flurry of texts from family members and friends as we slowly put the word out.

Around day seven we got another bombshell—type 1 diabetes. Yep. We got a ���two-fer.” So not only were we learning all we could about acute lymphoblastic leukemia and fielding calls, texts, and emails from family, friends, and friends of friends who knew someone with leukemia, but we were learning how to take blood glucose readings through “finger sticks,” calculate insulin to carbohydrate ratios, and give manual insulin injections to our son. Our son lost 9 pounds—which on a tiny toddler body renders a child gaunt. He started to associate finger sticks and shots with eating, so naturally, he stopped wanting to eat. They had to put an NG tube in—a tube that goes up the nose, down the back of the throat and esophagus directly into the stomach, so that we could give him Pediasure if he didn’t eat. He caught a cold somewhere around week two, which meant isolating him to his hospital room. He rarely smiled, he mostly slept and cried about taking the few oral medications he had to take daily. By the time of discharge, he could barely walk. His muscles had atrophied from being in bed for so long. Our once very active child couldn’t even climb the stairs at home or get up from a sitting position without assistance.

The day after we were discharged we were right back in the outpatient clinic at the hospital wrapping up the first of five cycles of what is called Frontline Treatment. Each cycle, outside of that first month is 60 days. But it isn’t necessarily a straight 60 days through. Continuing treatment is tied to how a child’s blood counts (red and white blood cells, platelets, and immune cells) are doing. If they are too low, they won’t continue treatment. If they are dangerously low, you’ll be spending a full day in the clinic getting a blood or platelet transfusion. Some cycles require weekly visits to clinic, some daily. Some cycles had four day hospital admittances. It was a tsunami of information and so many appointments to keep track of, along with his diabetic appointments and my OB appointments. And when we weren’t at clinic we were at home. Our son could no longer be in his daycare. We had to forego his friends’ birthday parties and play dates. It took our boy 11 months to finish Frontline Treatment.

The isolation felt overpowering at times. The parts of life we had to give up, the ways we had to change our routines to protect his fragile immune system. We were in survival mode and mostly just trying to get through each day. He hit remission in May 2018. But while he had no detectable cancer cells in his blood, it didn’t mean there weren’t any—and we would have to complete three more years of treatment.

Fast forward to March 2020. Our son has been in what is called “long-term maintenance” for a little over two years (meaning 14 months more until we are off of treatment). He’s been thriving: back at school, managing his meds well, his endocrinology team has been very happy with how we’ve managed his diabetes amidst chemotherapy and steroid treatments . . .

We’d been increasingly worried about what we were hearing in the news about a novel virus: COVID-19. We pulled our middle child out of school a couple of days before the state stepped in and mandated stay in place orders. Suddenly, the whole world was navigating a BC/AD moment: Before Coronavirus/After Disease. Everyone’s lives were instantly changed; families were having to adjust their routines for a huge unknown. Gloves and masks and disinfectant: a norm in our lives for two years now, were becoming household staples.

During our son’s frontline treatment we did not have to follow recent practices to the extreme, but since the stay in place orders, so many of our friends and family have been reaching out. “So this is what this was like.” Yes. Yes, this is a lot like what we have navigated since our son was diagnosed with leukemia. It’s hard, right?

It is hard. And the collective grief that we are all processing as a result of losing jobs, daily routines, a sense of control, and even loved ones can be overwhelming at times. But always, always amidst the darkness, there is light. There is joy and gratitude that can be cultivated and expressed. There are acts of selflessness and generosity to be witnessed and to perform. This is the “brutiful” gift of a situation like this. And really, this is an opportunity to pause and take stock of what is essential to our human existence and to a life well lived.

Nobody asked for this. Nobody wants it. But we find ourselves in the midst of it anyway. What we do and how we hold space in this time is what will matter moving forward. It will be part of our story. That is all I can offer you. In these BC/AD moments, there isn’t a simple solution or even a lot of answers. But I do know this, we will make it through. Life moving forward will not be the same. It can’t be. But we will find our new normal. My hope? That the new normal will mean that we seek and cultivate community more. That we realize we have all been helped by others and that we NEED others to make it through this life. That we have more generosity and compassion for one another because we are more aware that we’ve all been through some shit. Selah.

[lost-carcosa]

On March 3rd, 1972, NASA launched Pioneer 10 into space to study our solar system and beyond.Aboard the spacecraft was the Pioneer Plaque, one of the most ambitious pieces of communication ever conceived, serving as a “galactic greeting card”—should any extraterrestrial life come across it.Today, there are only three plaques in the universe, two of which are billions of kilometers away from our planet, while the third is in the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.Now, I’m bringing the plaque back to Earth.

“It will be the oldest artifact of mankind. Because a billion years from now, mountain building and erosion will have destroyed everything on the Earth, but this plaque will remain intact.” —Carl Sagan

The Plaque

The gold-anodized aluminum Pioneer plaque was launched in 1972 and 1973 aboard NASA’s twin spacecraft, Pioneer 10 and 11, respectively. Pioneer 10 was the first to complete its mission to soar by Jupiter. Pioneer 11 followed, studying the asteroid belt, the environment around Jupiter and Saturn, solar wind, cosmic rays, and eventually the far reaches of the Solar System and heliosphere.

The plaque, designed by Frank Drake and Carl Sagan with artwork prepared by Linda Salzman Sagan, was identically bolted to Pioneer 10 and 11’s antenna supports. Designed to show scientifically educated inhabitants of some other star system—who might intercept it millions of years from now—each plaque portrays when Pioneer was launched, from where, and by what kind of beings.

—

The Replica and the Reissue

My name is Duane King and I am a creative director and designer obsessed with the cosmos and galactic exploration.

This fascination began in my early childhood as I drew spacecraft while watching the TV show, Cosmos: A Personal Voyage with Carl Sagan. It grew into a passion that continues to this day, and I’ve amassed an incredible collection of space memorabilia. But none have sparked my creative spirit or curiosity more than the Pioneer plaque.

Put simply, the plaque is an expression of the vision and adventurous spirit that defines humanity at its best, and working with the plaque has been a lifelong dream of mine. So I set out to make a replica for myself. As I researched, I stumbled across a documentary that featured the plaque. Watching, I glimpsed the craftsman's hands at work on it—and I suddenly realized that I might be able to find him! I Googled for leads and soon located the company I suspected had made the plaques. Google Street View showed the exterior of his trophy shop, Precision Engravers, in San Carlos, California. And in the corner of the trophy-filled window was a sign that read “Home of the Pioneer plaque.” Astonished, I called and found the very craftsman behind the original—Ponciano Barbosa. Now, he is incredibly excited about this project too!

After making a prototype for myself, I was struck by the realization that there were only three other plaques, near and far, in our universe. And then there was the one I held in my hands. It was amazing, even magical. I had to share the opportunity to feel this way.

The world could use a little more hope—and the Pioneer plaque is gold-anodized optimism. So, in celebration of the 45th anniversary of the launch of Pioneer 10, I have decided to create a historically accurate reproduction of the plaque.

Through this campaign, I will offer 200 plaque replicas, each manually engraved from the master craftsman's original 1972 design. I’ve emphasized every detail in order to create the most accurate, quality replicas ever made.

I want the plaque to reach everyone who shares my passion for the Pioneer missions. That’s why I’m also reissuing a laser-etched aluminum edition.

The laser-etched aluminum reissue maintains the same beautiful design, so that everyone can enjoy this symbol of hope and curiosity: a piece of history of your very own.

The Details

Both the replica and reissue plaques will come wrapped in a beautiful tissue paper made from blueprints of Pioneer 10.

Each plaque will also be delivered in a gorgeous paper case foil-stamped with the golden Pioneer diagram on the exterior along with the launch dates and locations of Pioneer 10 and 11 on the interior. For the replicas, I will also be including cancelled Pioneer Jupiter stamps within each package. Overall, the packaging is perfect for either storage or display.

What the Plaque Means

At the top left of the plaque is a schematic of the hyperfine transition of neutral atomic hydrogen––a universal ‘yardstick’––providing a basic unit of both time and physical length throughout the physical universe. As a further size check, the binary equivalent of the decimal number 8 is shown between tote marks indicating the height of the two human figures pictured to be compared with the scale of the spacecraft itself, which is also shown in the silhouette on the plaque. The hydrogen wavelength––about 21 cm (8 inches)––multiplied by the binary number representing 8 alongside the woman, gives her height, namely 168 cm (66 inches).

The radial pattern will help other scientists locate our solar system in the galaxy. The solid bars indicate distance, with the horizontal bar denoting the distance from the Sun to the galactic center. The shorter solid bars represent direction and distances to various pulsars from our Sun, and the ticks following them are the periods of the pulsars in binary form.

Below the orientation diagram, as a further aid to identification should the spacecraft be intercepted while our Solar System is still in the galactic records, there is a diagram showing relative distances of the solar planets and identifying the ringed planet Saturn and the planet from which Pioneer originated. After accelerating past the largest planet as shown by a track, the spacecraft is depicted with its antenna pointing back to its origin on the third planet.

Finally, the plaque depicts man and woman in what to humans is a characteristic gesture of friendliness but also shows how limbs can be moved and displays the important four fingers and opposing thumb. The figures and physiognomy were carefully chosen and drawn for ethnic neutrality, and no attempt is made to explain to an alien intelligence what may be mysterious differences between two physical types—man and woman.

“The mysterious part is the man and the woman to the right of the plaque. And they will be mysterious because there will not be men and women anywhere else.” ––Carl Sagan

—

The Specs

Pioneer plaque replica

Material: 6061 T6 gold-anodized aluminum Dimensions: 22.86 × 15.24 cm (6 × 9 in) Thickness: 1.27 mm (0.05 in) Imprint: Manually engraved by the original manufacturer in the USA

Pioneer plaque reissue

Material: 6061 T6 gold-anodized aluminum Dimensions: 22.86 × 15.24 cm (6 × 9 in) Thickness: 1.27 mm (0.05 in) Imprint: Laser engraved in the USA

Kickstarter campaign ends: Fri, June 16 2017 11:00 PM BST.

[brittysaucefanfic]

Brand New Blue

Part 18

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

Lance began his search for the mole by combing through what information the Resistance did have thoroughly. Turns out it wasn't a whole boatload of the council knowing and not telling him about the rat, it was actually those five people. Glual and the other four members who had negotiated with team Voltron all had a hand in keeping this sort of vital information under wraps. Lance can understand keeping secrets to avoid panic.

He can. He truly gets it.

Lance himself has kept many secrets from his crew to avoid mass hysteria on board while they drifted through space. Like that one time, somehow, a very dangerous, carnivorous, and sneaky little alien animal got on board the Mermaid. Lance only told Nama, and Thorak, who both agreed it was best to handle the situation quietly.

Lance managed to lay a trap, using Nama as bait to get the beast out of the vents. When the beast was cornered, it was up to Thorak, the tougher skinned of the three, to subdue the beast. Lance was tasked with sedating it long enough for them to throw it out of the airlock. And while, in theory, that plan was decent, in reality the trap failed.

Nama, bless her heart, got scared and took off just as Thorak closed in on the beast closing in on Nama. Lance had to shimmy and squirm his way through the tight squeezes of the inner body of the ship to chase after it. That was due to Nama basically saying nope and getting the fuck to safety.

The amount of pains in his ass, literally and figuratively, chasing that beast around the smaller squeezes of the ship was indescribable. Astoundingly, annoyingly, complete and utter nonsense. Not to say that Lance didn't complete his task like a champ.

Because he did.

Fabulously.

Let's just say that somehow, someway, there was a shit ton of glitter involved. Now that. That was a hell of a day.

It's a story for another time perhaps.

So again, just to be clear, Lance gets it.

He tries to remember not to be so harsh on those jackasses while he combs through the short list of evidence. They had first looked out of the Resistance, to the people who were empathetic to the cause. A long list of suspects had been checked over, including Marva. Only three names were marked of by the time Lance took over the investigation.

Lance then went to work on checking the names on his list, one by one. Starting with Marva. He went to that Swap Moon again, and snuck into her shop when she was out. He searched the place, turned it upside down and inside out, before putting everything back to where it was.

He's watched plenty of spy movies too, so he made sure to look for hidden places. In the light fixtures, underneath floorboards, behind walls, in between walls. He checked for a false bottom on all of her drawers and her personal items. He checked inside trinkets, boxes, the cash register. Inside the couch, the couch cushions, underneath the couch. Same with the bed.

Nothing, he found nothing to be suspicious of.

The relief he felt was like breathing fresh air after nearly drowning. He knows how that feels. You don't become so attuned to the ocean like him without a few bad experiences that almost killed you.

He continued to do the same with every person on the list, simultaneously having Pidge run data checks on them all. It wasn't that he was taking a leading position on the team, God no. But everyone, even Shiro, even Allura, referred to him first before making a move. When he had asked why they looked to him for directions, they all said practically the same thing.

This was Lance’s case.

Lance was the one who had taken a personal hit by this guy, whoever he is. Lance was the rebel agent. Lance was the one who should take the lead on this investigation.

So he did.

Most of the listed empathizers had checked out clear for the accusations. However it was discovered that there was a minor black market trade happening between a few of the newer recruits and the empathizers. That was an interesting thing to discover, and they were all dealt with accordingly with classic democratic justice.

Just because the people on the list showed no signs of sabotage, didn't mean they weren't suspects as much as he hated to admit it. The people on the list were still under the microscope when a new piece of evidence had come to light.

The person sold out before Lance was a well respected front liner, who took the place as spearhead of major coordinated attacks on the Galra. He was also one of the oldest people in the Resistance, having been around when it was still new.

Nothing but a bunch of angry aliens trying to get revenge.

The man, Klum, was hailed as a Commander. Now, for those who don't intimately know the ranking of the Resistance, it's time to learn. It's starts out with the basic five categories.

Medical, Front Line, Intelligence, Side Line, and Council.

So first, Medical. It splits into three basic categories itself. The first is emergency. Their the ones who take on the big surgeries and the multiple injured situations. The second is the field medics, who are trained to both fight and heal.

And the last are the Runners. Runners are the guys who distribute medical, food and essential supplies to the planets in need. The word for this on Earth are humanitarians, but most of the universe are clueless on what a human is.

Then there is the Front Line. Front liners, like Commander Klum, are always in the thick of battle. There is a huge warfront in the Dalexital System that hasn't been battle free for over a year now. The system is uninhabited naturally, but the planets are rich with valuable materials the Empire and the Resistance both use to make weapons.

Then there are Side Liners, like Lance. They are the people who make a series of small attacks on the Empire to try and weaken their forces.

The next is Intelligence, which are the spies of space basically. They willingly plant themselves in dangerous places in the Empire in order to smuggle information.

An example of an Intel agent, was the guy who planted himself as a prisoner being sent to Galdiator matches. He was the one coordinating between Lance and the Resistance, giving Lance a chance to put a plan into play.

Last but not least the Council, which is basically consisted of every ranked member from Lieutenant and up. And the order of rank is as follows.

Fighters (or medics if you're in that field). Then Pilots, who pilot the less armed crafts on humanitarian runs. Like a cargo pilot. Then there are the Fighter Pilots, which Lance is. Specialists, like Glual, who have particular abilities that aid the cause.

Corporals, then Sergeants, then Lieutenants. Next are Captains, which Lance also is. Majors, Lieutenant Colonels, like Glual, and Colonels. Commanders, like Klum. Lieutenant Generals, Generals, and Admirals. And last but not least the Head.

Most people call him the Ghost Head.

Someone had to take control of all these random rebels, right? Someone had to be smart enough to organize this entire Resistance in the first place. And that's him, the Ghost Head.

No one knows his real name, or what he looks like, or even if it is a 'he'. No one knows the specie The Ghost Head is, nor how old he is. No one even knows how to contact him. He contacts you, end of discussion.

Military lesson: finished.

So back to Klum.

After Pidge hacked into the Galra ship, she had stumbled upon some interesting information. The tip had come from a signal that was bounced off maybe three or four different planets' signals. When retracing the person's viral fingerprint the signal came from a ghost signal far too familiar to the Resistance.

An ECD. Encrypted Communication Device.

Now, when they still used the transponders they had before the ECD, the signal could be tracked as simple as saying 1, 2, 3. But the new design, however, makes it nigh impossible, even for Pidge. They don't own a signal to call their own, because they piggyback off of the Galra.

Lance then demanded a full list from the council of every known rebel agent. He could use the codes and signals of every ECD to try and locate the source of the mole. With Commander Klum and a few friends of his backing him, Lance was given the okay to have that list.

It took two whole days to get them all down.

Lance then spent his time combing through every one of those codes manually one by one. His friends would often try to help but Lance had a slight case of OCD. He trusted the team, probably too much. But when they go through the list to help, Lance can't help but to go over it himself. Pidge was the first to find out, and when she did, she blew up at him.

Took an hour or two to explain that No, I DO trust you guys to do it right but I just need to see for myself. No one held it against him and left him to do it on his own, although Pidge was visibly disgruntled at being pushed off the job. She made him promise to keep an eye out for Sam or Matt Holt, giving him an old photo of the three of them for a picture identification.

Did he mention that this entire time he was still an acting member of Voltron?

He still went on missions with the team like usual. Saving planets, building alliances, destroying Galran fleets. He responded to the call for Paladins alongside his friends, fighting valiantly with the rest of Voltron.

The first time they formed Voltron was like an intense rush. They were just so connected. Their minds, slipping in and out of each other's head hole seamlessly. Their bodies, in sync and moving together as fluid as water. Their lions, creating the giant superweapon called Voltron.

The same thing happened when he bit the bullet and used his Bayard for the first time. It was odd having to use two hands on one gun. The rifle was just heavy enough that during long periods of shooting, it was just better to use both. He was so unfamiliar with the rifle, that when he went up against the simulator like he did his first time, he couldn't get passed level one.

Boy was that a blow to the ego.

Eventually he got used to the weapon, and could keep up with his teammates. Most of them could at least reach level nine alone, and level thirteen so far as a team. So all in all, they were pretty decent.

Lance especially liked it when they sparred in pairs, and when he would be teamed up with Keith. It was just too fun to argue with him. You could hardly notice it, because his mullet hid most of his ears, but the tips of his ears turn red when angry or embarrassed.

It was great.

He spent his free time trying to locate the mole, cutting into time he usually would have used for training or his facial regime. And if he lost some of that precious beauty sleep in the process? Well then, no one mentioned it.

**********

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

[jrgarcia]

It All Started with the Prius

I can trace my first attempt at reviewing a car to when I was a college freshmen taking English 1301. We were assigned to write a review of something, anything; a film, music video, styling product. I chose to write about a car, the Toyota Prius. It didn’t have to be factual, just follow the format for a review style essay. In my paper I wrote, “The interior of the 2010 Prius is as inviting as a hospital’s waiting room.”

My professor thought it was funny, but felt it was too harsh and asked for a rewrite on my second draft. She also mentioned that I had an act for writing and should think about joining the school newspaper. That was the pebble that fell down the mountain and snowballed. Now I’ve come full circle by getting a chance to review the 2017 Toyota Prius Prime, as a professional writer.

Toyota offers several different models for the Prius: • Standard Prius • Prius C • Prius V • Prius Prime • The Mirai

Interior

First impressions of the Prius Prime’s interior were that it reminded me of a Tesla. Crips, clean, seats that were plush to the touch in a futuristic shade of white, and an 11.6 inch HD multimedia touch screen in the center of the dashboard. A 4.2 inch multi-information screen rests on top which houses the speedometer and keeps track of the vehicle’s vitals. The interior is nice place to be if you enjoy technology. Even though it was my first Prius I had no trouble figuring out how to make it move. The joystick looking gear shift had an endearing quality to it. I almost wished it was a manual because I wanted to move it around all day. Park was a small button next to the gear shift, which took some getting used to but found it to be very convenient.

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The driver gets a projected color heads-up display on the windshield to avoid having to look to the side to read the speedometer. Granted, the numbers are large enough that one can see it from without having to move their head. Next to the speedo is a graphic of the Prius letting you see how the gasoline engine and electric motors work together to propel you along. The massive touch screen infotainment center is user friendly if you have used a tablet in your life. Plus, the Prime offers Qi-wireless charging with allows you to place your Qi-compatible smartphone flat on the surface for easy charging while you drive. A nice touch.

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Exterior

It is easy to label the design of the 2017 Prius Prime as a “love it or hate it” kind of vehicle. It’s had mixed reviews since the new body design debuted last year. But I think it looks radical, especially in this Blue Magnetism (aka Teal) color. It made all the curves, edges, and lines pop making the Prius look like a product of its time. I even mentioned that it reminded me of the capsule car from the Jetson’s. Bubble top, sharp rear fenders, and a wedge front end.

I found that where ever I went people wanted to ask me about the car due to its looks. How many MPG’s I was getting, whether it needed a special charger, how expensive it was, etc. The 2017 Prius Prime also has a spoiler, technically. The pointed end of the hatchback works as a spoiler and the wave rear window design is meant to improve aerodynamics.

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I would highly recommend leasing or buying this car in a bright and exciting color. Don’t go for black or grey because then you won’t be able to see the lines of this car and it will look like a pointy arrow with a bubble top. Toyota has made a mistake in not offering more color options for the Prius Prime. Only six colors are available and four of them are different variations of grey or white. That’s boring!

See what I mean about boring colors?

Specs and Performance of the 2017 Toyota Prius Prime

The 2017 Prius is powered by a 121 horsepower, 1.8 four cylinder gasoline engine, two electric motors, and an 8.8 kilowatt lithium battery. When driving on electric EV mode the Prius is capable of 22 miles of range, which you can quickly burn through if you have a heavy foot. Thankfully, the Prius is a plug-in so charging it is as easy as plugging in a toaster. The charging cables are in a trunk and can charge the Prius Prime in 5.5 hours using a standard outlet plug, or in two hours with a 240-volt outlet.

Is it fast? Well, it’s not slow with a 0-60 time under 11 seconds. The Prius Prime offers three driving modes: EV, HV, and EV auto, which controls the efficiency of its drivetrain. HV will use its battery at low speeds and switch to gas when it reaches highway speeds. EV auto lets the Prius worry about switching between electric and hybrid to be as efficient as possible. EV is labeled as DRIVE MODE and offers you three selections: ECO, NORMAL, and PWR. In PWR mode, which is the closest option to a sport mode on the Prius. Basically, it allows you to use all the power available for acceleration and performance. Put your foot down and you can hear the engine make a humming noise that could be considered cute and will bring a smile to your face when you feel the car accelerate faster than you expected.

The Prius Prime offers a Predictive Efficient Drive, which means it’s smart enough to remember your daily route and stopping patterns. This is so it can then give you suggestions on when to brake to maximize your driving efficiency. Not to mention the Prius will give you a score from 0-100 based off how efficiently you drive and while offer tips to improve your score. I thought it would annoy me but I found myself trying to get a perfect score.

Toyota says that the Prime is capable of averaging 54 mpg. During my week with the Prius I averaged 45 mpg, and $12 worth a gas nearly filled the tank up when I was down to my last 70 miles of range. That’s the beauty of having a small gas tank with a fuel efficient engine. Pricing for the 2017 Toyota Prius starts at $26k and the model used for this review was priced at $36,305, which is very reasonable when compared to its plug-in competition.

Final Thoughts, It Converted Me

The only thing I did not like about this car was that the hatchback was heavy to close, even though it’s made out of carbon fiber. I was surprised it didn’t come with a button to close the hatch automatically. The hatchback also opens wide which means the door is way up in the air and could create a height issue for certain people. But let’s be honest, I’m nit-picking.

Real Carbon Fiber

All my oldest friends thought I had suffered a head injury when I said I liked the Prius. The truth is this little hybrid warmed its way into my heart by being comfortable, stylish, efficient, and dare I say it… fun to drive. It has a low center of gravity and rear double wishbone suspension to keep it on the road through the turns. I could picture myself owning one of these for daily use and keeping my gas guzzling muscle cars for recreational use. Granted, maybe this was a summer fling and I was just enchanted by the mystic of this car. However, there is a growing subculture for electric and hybrid vehicles. The 2017 Toyota Prius Prime is definitely cool enough to make a scene at their silent car meets.

  Read more articles and reviews here.

A 2017 Toyota Prius Prime makes a religious V8 guy see a new light for EV vehicles. It All Started with the Prius I can trace my first attempt at reviewing a car to when I was a college freshmen taking English 1301.