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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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Petard (Part I)

Few things are more wrong than "if you're not paying for the product, you're the product." Companies sell you out when they can, which is why John Deere tractor milks farmers for needless repair callouts and why your iPhone spies on you to provide data to Apple's surveillance advertising service:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

When a vendor abuses you, that's not punishment for you being a cheapskate and wanting to use services for free. Vendors who screw you over do so because they know they can get away with it, because you are locked in and can't shop elsewhere. The ultimate manifestation of this is, of course, prison-tech. A duopoly of private equity-backed prison-tech profiteers have convinced prisons and jails across America to get rid of calls, in-person visits, mail, parcels, libraries, and continuing ed, and replace them all with tablets that charge prisoners vastly more than people in the free world pay to access media and connect with the outside. Those prisoners are absolutely paying for the product – indeed, with the national average prison wage set at $0.53/hour, they're paying far more than anyone outside pays – and they are still the product.

Capitalists, after all, hate capitalism. For all the romantic odes to the "invisible hand" and all the bafflegab about "efficient market hypothesis," the actual goal of businesses is to make you an offer you literally can't refuse. Capitalists want monopolies, they want captive audiences. "Competition," as Peter Thiel famously wrote, "is for losers."

Few lock-in arrangements are harder to escape than the landlord-tenant relationship. Moving home is expensive, time-consuming, and can rip you away from your job, your kid's school, and your community. Landlords know it, which is why they conspire to rig rents through illegal price-fixing apps like Realpage:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/27/ai-conspiracies/#epistemological-collapse

And why they fill your home with Internet of Shit appliances that pick your pockets by requiring special, expensive consumables, and why they tack so many junk fees onto your monthly rent:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/01/housing-is-a-human-right/

Tenants aren't quite as locked in as prisoners, but corporations correctly understand that you can really fuck with a tenant over a long timescale without losing their business, and so they do.

Ironically, monopolists love each other. I guess if you loathe competition, a certain kind of cooperation comes naturally. That's why so many landlords have forged unholy alliances with internet service providers, who – famously – offer Americans the slowest speeds at the highest prices in the rich world, trail the world in infrastructure investment, and reap profits that put their global cousins in the shade.

Many's the apartment building that comes with a monopoly ISP that has a deal with your landlord. Landlords and ISPs call this "bulk billing" and swear that it reduces the cost of internet service for everyone. In reality, tenants who live under these arrangements have produced a deep, unassailable record proving that they pay more for worse broadband than the people next door who get to choose their ISPs. What's more, ISPs who offer "bulk billing" openly offer kickbacks to landlords who choose them over their rivals – in other words, even if you're paying for the product (your fucking home), you are still the product, sold to an evil telco.

Under Biden, the FCC banned the practice of ISPs paying kickbacks to landlords, over squeals and howls of protests from industry bodies like the National Multifamily Housing Council (NMHC), National Apartment Association (NAA), and Real Estate Technology and Transformation Center (RETTC). These landlord groups insisted – despite all the evidence to the contrary – that when your landlord gets to choose your ISP, they do so with your best interests at heart, getting you a stellar deal you couldn't get for yourself.

This week, Trump's FCC chair Brendan Carr – who voted for the ban on kickbacks – rescinded the rule, claiming that he was doing so to protect tenants. This is obvious bullshit, as is evidenced by the confetti-throwing announcements froom the NMHC, NAA and RETTC:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2025/01/fcc-chair-nixes-plan-to-boost-broadband-competition-in-apartment-buildings/

Reading Jon Brodkin's Ars Technica coverage of Carr's betrayal of millions of Americans, I was reminded of a short story I published in 2014: "Petard: A Tale of Just Desserts," which I wrote for Bruce Sterling's "12 Tomorrows" anthology from MIT Tech Review. It's a fun little sf story about this same bullshit, dedicated to the memory of Aaron Swartz:

https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262535595/twelve-tomorrows-2014/

Realizing that there were people who were sounding the alarm about this more than a decade ago was a forceful reminder that Trumpism isn't exactly new. The idea that government should serve up the American people as an all-you-can-eat buffet for corporations that use tech to supercharge their predatory conduct has been with us for a hell of a long time. I've written a hell of a lot of science fiction about this, and sometimes this leads people to credit me with predictive powers. But if I predicted anything with my story "Radicalized," in which furious, grieving men murder the health industry execs who denied their loved ones coverage, I predicted the present, not the future:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-12-09-radicalized-cory-doctorow-story-health-care/

Likewise in my story "Unauthorized Bread," which "predicted" that landlords would use "smart" appliances to steal from their poorest, most vulnerable tenants:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

It's not much of a "prediction" to simply write a story in which "Internet of Things" companies' sales literature is treated as a straightforward idea and writing about how it will all work.

The same goes for "Petard." The most "predictive" part of that story is the part where I take the human rights implications of internet connections seriously. Back then (and even today), there were and are plenty of Very Serious People who want you to know that internet service is a frivolity, a luxury, a distraction:

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2010/10/04/small-change-malcolm-gladwell

They deride the idea that broadband is a human right, even after the pandemic's lesson that you depend on your internet connection for social connections, civic life, political engagement, education, health and employment:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/30/medtronic-stole-your-ventilator/#fiber-now

Writing sf about this stuff isn't predictive, but I like to think that it constitutes an effective rebuttal to the people who say that taking digital rights seriously is itself unserious. Given that, I got to thinking about "Petard," and how much I liked that little story from 2014.

So I've decided to serialize it, in four parts, starting today. If you're impatient to get the whole story, you can listen to my podcast of it, which I started in 2014, then stopped podcasting for four years (!) before finishing in 2018:

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_278

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_292

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_293

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_294_-_Petard_04

It's not that I wanted to make the elf cry. I'm not proud of the fact. But he was an elf for chrissakes. What was he doing manning — elfing — the customer service desk at the Termite Mound? The Termite Mound was a tough assignment — given MIT's legendary residency snafus, it was a sure thing that someone like me would be along every day to ruin his day.

"Come on," I said, "cut it out. Look, it's nothing personal."

He continued to weep, face buried dramatically in his long-fingered hands, pointed ears protruding from his fine, downy hair as it flopped over his ivory-pale forehead. Elves.

I could have backed down, gone back to my dorm and just forgiven the unforgivably stupid censorwall there, used my personal node for research or stuck to working in the lab. But I had paid for the full feed. I needed the full feed. I deserved the full feed. I was 18. I was a grownup, and the infantalizing, lurking censorwall offended my intellect and my emotions. I mean, seriously, fuck that noise.

"Would you stop?" I said. "Goddamnit, do your job."

The elf looked up from his wet hands and wiped his nose on his mottled raw suede sleeve. "I don't have to take this," he said. He pointed to a sign: "MIT RESIDENCY LLC OPERATES A ZERO-TOLERANCE POLICY TOWARD EMPLOYEE ABUSE. YOU CAN BE FINED UP TO $2000 AND/OR IMPRISONED FOR SIX MONTHS FOR ASSAULTING A CAMPUS RESIDENCE WORKER."

"I'm not abusing you," I said. "I'm just making my point. Forcefully."

He glared at me from behind a curtain of dandelion-fluff hair. "Abuse includes verbal abuse, raised voices, aggressive language and tone –"

I tuned him out. This was the part where I was supposed to say, "I know this isn't your fault, but –" and launch into a monologue explaining how his employer had totally hosed me by not delivering what they'd promised, and had further hosed him by putting him in a situation where he was the only one I could talk to about it, and he couldn't do anything about it. This little pantomime was a fixture of life in the world, the shrugs-all-round nostrum that we were supposed to substitute for anything getting better ever.

Like I said, though, fuck that noise. What is the point of being smart, 18 years old and unemployed if you aren't willing to do something about this kind of thing. Hell, the only reason I'd been let into MIT in the first place was that I was constitutionally incapable of playing out that little scene.

The elf had run down and was expecting me to do my bit. Instead, I said, "I bet you're in the Termite Mound, too, right?"

He got a kind of confused look. "That's PII," he said. "This office doesn't give out personally identifying information. It's in the privacy policy –" He tapped another sign posted by his service counter, one with much smaller type. I ignored it.

"I don't want someone else's PII. I want yours. Do you live in the residence? You must, right? Get a staff discount on your housing for working here, I bet." Elves were always cash-strapped. Surgery's not cheap, even if you're prepared to go to Cuba for it. I mean, you could get your elf-pals to try to do your ears for you, but only if you didn't care about getting a superbug or ending up with gnarly stumps sticking out of the side of your head. And forget getting a Nordic treatment without adult supervision, I mean, toot, toot, all aboard the cancer express. You had to be pretty insanely desperate to go elf without the help of a pro.

He looked stubborn. I mean, elf-stubborn, which is a kind of chibi version of stubborn that's hard to take seriously. I mean, seriously. "Look, of course you live in the Termite Mound. Whatever. The point is, we're all screwed by this stuff. You, me, them –" I gestured at the room full of people. They all been allocated a queue-position on entry to the waiting room and were killing time until they got their chance to come up to the Window of Eternal Disappointment in order to play out I Know This Isn't Your Fault But… before returning to their regularly scheduled duties as a meaningless grain of sand being ground down by the unimaginably gigantic machinery of MIT Residency LLC.

"Let's do something about it, all right? Right here, right now."

He gave me a look of elven haughtiness that he'd almost certainly practiced in the mirror. I waited for him to say something. He waited for me to wilt. Neither of us budged.

"I'm not kidding. The censorwall has a precisely calibrated dose of fail. It works just enough that it's worth using most of the time, and the amount of hassle and suck and fail you have to put up with when it gets in the way is still less than the pain you'd have to endure if you devoted your life to making it suck less. The economically rational course of action is to suck it up.

"What I propose is that we change the economics of this bullshit. If you're the Termite Mound's corporate masters, you get this much benefit out of the shitty censorwall; but we, the residents of the Termite Mound, pay a thousand times that in aggregate." I mimed the concentrated interests of the craven fools who'd installed the censorwall, making my hands into a fist-wrapped-in-a-fist, then exploding them like a hoberman-sphere to show our diffuse mutual interests, expanding to dwarf the censorware like Jupiter next to Io. "So here's what I propose: let's mound up all this diffuse interest, mobilize it, and aim it straight at the goons who put you in a job. You sit there all day and suffer through our abuse because all you're allowed to do is point at your stupid sign."

"How?" he said. I knew I had him.

Kickstarter? Hacker, please. Getting strangers to combine their finances so you can chase some entrepreneurial fantasy of changing the world by selling people stuff is an idea that was dead on arrival. If your little kickstarted business is successful enough to compete with the big, dumb titans, you'll end up being bought out or forced out or sold out, turning you into something indistinguishable from the incumbent businesses you set out to destroy. The problem isn't that the world has the wrong kind of sellers — it's that it has the wrong kind of buyers. Powerless, diffused, atomized, puny and insubstantial.

Turn buyers into sellers and they just end up getting sucked into the logic of fail: it's unreasonable to squander honest profits on making people happier than they need to be in order to get them to open their wallets. But once you get all the buyers together in a mass with a unified position, the sellers don't have any choice. Businesses will never spend a penny more than it takes to make a sale, so you have to change how many pennies it takes to complete the sale.

Back when I was fourteen, it took me ten days to hack together my first Fight the Power site. On the last day of the fall term, Ashcroft High announced that catering was being turned over to Atos Catering. Atos had won the contract to run the caf at my middle school in my last year there, every one of us lost five kilos by graduation. The French are supposed to be good at cooking, but the slop Atos served wasn't even food. I'm pretty sure that after the first week they just switched to filling the steamer trays with latex replicas of grey, inedible glorp. Seeing as how no one was eating it, there was no reason to cook up a fresh batch every day.

The announcement came at the end of the last Friday before Christmas break, chiming across all our personal drops with a combined bong that arrived an instant before the bell rang. The collective groan was loud enough to drown out the closing bell. It didn't stop, either, but grew in volume as we filtered into the hall and out of the building into the icy teeth of Chicago's first big freeze of the season.

Junior high students aren't allowed off campus at lunchtime, but high school students — even freshmen — can go where they please so long as they're back by the third period bell. That's where Fight the Power came in.

WE THE UNDERSIGNED PLEDGE

TO BOYCOTT THE ASHCROFT HIGH CAFETERIA WHILE ATOS HAS THE CONTRACT TO SUPPLY IT

TO BUY AT LEAST FOUR LUNCHES EVERY WEEK FROM THE FOLLOWING FOOD TRUCKS [CHECK AT LEAST ONE]:

This was tricky. It's not like there were a lot of food trucks driving out of the loop to hit Joliet for the lunch rush. But I wrote a crawler that went through the review sites, found businesses with more than one food truck, munged the menus and set out the intersection as an eye-pleasing infographic showing the appetizing potential of getting your chow outside of the world of the corrupt no-bid edu-corporate complex.

By New Year's Day, 98 percent of the student body had signed up. By January third, I had all four of the food-trucks I'd listed lined up to show up on Monday morning.

Turns out, Ashcroft High and Atos had a funny kind of deal. Ashcroft High guaranteed a minimum level of revenue to Atos, and Atos guaranteed a maximum level to Ashcroft High. So, in theory, if a hundred percent of the student body bought a cafeteria lunch, about twenty percent of that money would be kicked back to Ashcroft High. They later claimed that this was all earmarked to subsidize the lunches of poor kids, but no one could ever point to anything in writing where they'd committed to this, as our Freedom of Information Act requests eventually proved.

In return for the kickback, the school had promised to ensure that Atos could always turn a profit. If not enough of us ate in the caf, the school would have to give Atos the money it would have made if we had. In other words: our choice to eat a good lunch wasn't just costing the school its expected share of Atos's profits — it was having to dig money out of its budget to make up for our commitment to culinary excellence.

They tried everything. Got the street in front of the school designated a no-food-trucks zone (we petitioned the City of Joliet to permit parking on the next street over). Shortened the lunch-break (we set up a Web-based pre-order service that let us pick and pre-pay for our food). Banned freshmen from leaving school property (we were saved by the PTA). Suspended me for violating the school's social media policy (the ACLU wrote them a blood-curdling nastygram, and raised nearly $30,000 in donations of $3 or less from students around the world once word got out).

Atos wouldn't let them re-negotiate the contract, either. If Ashcroft High wanted out, it would have to buy it's way out. That's when I convinced the vice-principal to let me work with the AP Computer Science class to build out a flexible, open version of Fight the Power that anyone could install and run for their own student bodies, providing documentation and support. That was just before Spring Break. By May 1, there were 87 schools whose students used Ftp to organize Atos alternative food-trucks for their own cafeterias.

Suddenly, this was news. Not just local news, either. Global. Atos had to post an earnings warning in their quarterly report. Suddenly, we had Bloomberg and Al Jazeera Business camera crews buttonholing Ashcroft High kids on their way to the lunch-trucks. Whenever they grabbed me, I would give them this little canned speech about how Atos couldn't supply decent food and were taking money out of our educational budgets rather than facing the fact that the children they were supposed to be feeding hated their slop so much that they staged a mass walkout. It played well with kids in other schools, and very badly with Atos's shareholders. But I'll give this to Atos: I couldn't have asked for a better Evil Empire to play Jedi against. They threatened to sue me — for defamation! — which made the whole thing news again. Stupidly, they sued me in Illinois, which has a great anti-SLAPP law, and was a massive technical blunder. The company's US headquarters were in Clearwater, Florida, and Florida is a trainwreck in every possible sense, including its SLAPP laws. If they'd sued me in their home turf, I'd have gone bankrupt before I could win.

They lost. The ACLU collected $102,000 in fees from them. The story of the victory was above the fold on Le Monde's site for a week. Turns out that French people loathe Atos even more than the rest of us, because they've had longer to sharpen their hate.

Long story slightly short: we won. Atos "voluntarily" released our school from its contract. And Fight the Power went mental. I spent that summer vacation reviewing Github commits on Ftp, as more and more people discovered that they could make use of a platform that made fighting back stupid simple. The big stupid companies were whales and we were their krill, and all it took was some glue to glom us all together into boulders of indigestible matter that could choke them to death.

I dropped out of Ashcroft High in the middle of the 11th grade and did the rest of my time with homeschooling shovelware that taught me exactly what I needed to pass the GED and not one tiny thing more. I didn't give a shit. I was working full time on Ftp, craiglisting rides to to hacker unconferences where I couchsurfed and spoke, giving my poor parental units eight kinds of horror. It would've been simpler if I'd taken donations for Ftp, because Mom and Dad quickly came to understand that their role as banker in our little family ARG gave them the power to yank me home any time I moved out of their comfort zone. But there was the balance of terror there, because they totally knew that if I had accepted donations for the project, I'd have been financially independent in a heartbeat.

Plus, you know, they were proud of me. Ftp makes a difference. It's not a household name or anything, but more than a million people have signed up for Ftp campaigns since I started it, and our success rate is hovering around 25 percent. That means that I'd changed a quarter-million lives for the better (at least) before I turned 18. Mom and Dad, they loved that (which is not to say that they didn't need the occasional reminder of it). And shit, it got me a scholarship at MIT. So there's that.

Network filters are universally loathed. Duh. No one's ever written a regular expression that can distinguish art from porn and no one ever will. No one's ever assembled an army of prudes large enough to hand-sort the Internet into "good" and "bad" buckets. No one ever will. The Web's got 100-odd billion pages on it; if you have a failure rate of one tenth of one percent, you'll overblock (or underblock) (or both) 100,000,000 pages. That's several Library of Congress's worth of pointless censorship — or all the porn ever made, times ten, missed though underfiltering. You'd be an idiot to even try.

Idiot like a fox! If you don't care about filtering out "the bad stuff" (whatever that is), censorware is a great business to be in. The point of most network filters is the "security syllogism":

SOMETHING MUST BE DONE.

I HAVE DONE SOMETHING.

SOMETHING HAS BEEN DONE.

VICTORY!

Hand-wringing parents don't want their precious offspring looking at weiners and hoo-hahs when they're supposed to be amassing student debt, so they demand that the Termite Mound fix the problem by Doing Something. The Termite Mound dispenses cash to some censorware creeps in a carefully titrated dose that is exactly sufficient to demonstrate Something Has Been Doneness to a notional weiner-enraged parent. Since all the other dorms, schools, offices, libraries, airports, bus depots, train stations, cafes, hotels, bars, and theme parks in the world are doing exactly the same thing, each one can declare itself to be in possession of Best Practices when there is an unwanted hoo-hah eruption, and culpability diffuses to a level that is safe for corporate governance and profitability. #MissionAccomplished.

And so the whole world suffers under this pestilence. Millions of times every day — right at this moment — people are swearing at their computers: What. The. Fuck. Censorware's indifference to those minute moments of suffering is only possible because they've never been balled up into a vast screaming meteor of rage.

"Hey there, hi! Look, I'm here because I need unfiltered Internet access to get through my degree. So do you all, right? But the Termite Mound isn't going to turn it off because that would be like saying 'Here kids, have a look at this porn,' which they can't afford to say, even though, seriously, who gives a shit, right?"

I had them at 'porn," but now I had to keep them.

"Look at your tenancy agreement: you're paying twenty seven bucks a month for your network access at the Termite Mound. Twenty seven bucks — each! I'll find us an ISP that can give all of us hot and cold running genitals and all the unsavory religious extremism, online gaming, and suicide instructions we can eat. Either I'm going to make the Termite Mound give us the Internet we deserve, or we'll cost it one of its biggest cash-cows and humiliate it on the world stage.

"I don't want your money. All I want is for you to promise me that if I can get us Internet from someone who isn't a censoring sack of shit, that you'll come with me. I'm going to sign up every poor bastard in the Termite Mound, take that promise to someone who isn't afraid to work hard to earn a dollar, and punish the Termite Mound for treating us like this. And then, I'm going to make a loud noise about what we've done, and spread the word to every other residence in Cambridge, then Boston, then across America. I'm going to spread out to airports, hotels, train stations, buses, taxis — any place where they make it their business to decide what data we're allowed to see."

I whirled around to face the elf, who leapt back, long fingers flying to his face in an elaborate mime of startlement. "Are you with me, pal?"

He nodded slightly.

"Come on," I said. "Let 'em hear you."

He raised one arm over his head, bits of rabbit fur and uncured hides dangling from his skinny wrist. I felt for him. I think we all did. Elves.

He was a convincer, though. By the time I left the room, I already had 29 signups.

All evil in the world is the result of an imbalance between the people who benefit from shenanigans and the people who get screwed by shenanigans. De-shenaniganifying the world is the answer to pollution and poverty and bad schools and the war on some drugs and a million other horribles. To solve all the world's problems, I need kick-ass raw feeds and a steady supply of doofus thugs from central casting to make idiots of. I know where I can find plenty of the latter, and I'm damn sure going to get the former. Watch me.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/30/landlord-telco-industrial-complex/#captive-market

#pluralistic #aaronsw #science fiction #big cable #telecoms #isps #net neutrality #boston #mit #fcc #National Multifamily Housing Council #NMHC #National Apartment Association #NAA #Real Estate Technology and Transformation Center

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rtpcrepair5 · 5 months ago

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Exploring the Benefits of Buying Refurbished Laptops Near Me

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#refurbished laptops near me

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m-feline · 1 year ago

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To adapt, to survive, to live- ch 23

Silco x Freader

Tags; ACT II, business, tattoos, canon language, mentions of smut, fluff;

Previous ->

Years had passed and things looked very different in the entire Undercity. The place was livelier than ever. The Lanes were now the center of all different and new types of augmentations, entertainment, and chemical mixtures, both good and bad.

“Anything else to report?” I asked as I walked the busy streets of Lanes. Streets, we had freaking streets now. What we had before was barely a road. And now we had cars beside carriages.

“Nothing from the houses, ma’am,” Jolynn said. Jolynn became my personal assistant when I began to run the import business on the other side of the bridge. She was raised on the street like everyone else in Lanes. But she had a brilliant memory when it came to people and who did what. So she was perfect to aid me when it came to the houses, and relaying people to my import business. She was a very solemn person but I didn't need her to be anything else. She knew how to behave if we were with a client or business partner. And when asked she always gave the facts nothing more.

“Anything regarding my new project?” I asked as I kept walking with her.

“Signed said it will be ready in a day or two but I would dare say it will be done later. He was working on other variants of Shimmer again,” Jolynn said and kept her walking phase the same as mine.

“I see,” I said knowing that my project will be delayed for at least two more days. “And my current projects?”

“People are liking the consistency of the new ink for tattoos,” Jolynn said. “We got already several parlors asking for the ink.”

“Give it first to our regulars. And tell them to charge extra. And if the motifs are bigger than an apple charge triple,” I said. “Oh, and never to use it on the face. They look great anywhere else. But someone might go blind if it goes too close to the eye. Some chemicals aren't meant for the face.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jolynn said. “As for the new eye drops.”

“We will not sell those for the tattoo parlors,” I said. “Only for augmentation parlors and repair shops. Those drops will be beneficial for those who don't have natural eyes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jolynn said.

“Let's sit at that place, I need a cup of coffee,” I said and pointed to an augments café place. Many places like bars, cafes, and clubs were opening everywhere in the Lanes. Especially since many people from the top had gotten interested in the products. Sure, shimmer was still the biggest thing in the Lanes. But some also came to get a cool tattoo, augmentation, or a look that no one else could give them in normal ways.

My inks, drops, and oils were hit on both sides of the bridge. Jolynn even informed me that Council Medarda was interested in certain products of mine and was asking for a meeting. I was pleased to hear that. With her help, I could boost something else if I could play my cards right.

I had just received my coffee when Jolynn and I heard three guys talking behind us about their last night's happenings.

“I tell ya, the gal was screaming when she came,” One of the guys said a bit too loud. I saw Jolynn's face get dark and other patrons of the place also scowled at the table of the three guys. It was one thing for people to brag about their escapades at other places. But this café was mostly for those who needed to cure their hangover, read in silence, or have a civil conversation with business partners. One reason why Silco and I preferred this place. Mostly me, since Silco stayed in his office for work and left only if needed. But when we had our date nights, we would come to this one if we wanted a quiet after-hours drink.

“Ya sure she didn’t scream for ye face?” Another guy asked. Seriously? This place is for quiet chill, no one cares who they fucked. I saw Jolynn play her fingers with the knife on her table set. Knowing her past she hated guys like the ones behind us. She was raped and almost killed once. Because I know how one feels after such a horrible experience, I gave her a job that should keep her away from all that. And if someone is crazy enough to try it, they are lucky if they live the day after that. Besides Silco's own men, I had two guys who could spar with the twins and still do an all-nighter on the same day. And Jolynn had gotten good with her knife skills. Lace those knives with my paralyzing drug, those guys will sleep for three days straight.

Now I worried that Jolynn might use those knives, on anyone who even looked at me the wrong way. Did she get that from Silco or Jinx, I have no idea. With one glance from me, she stopped touching the knife in front of her. Soon someone else will come and tell those guys to shut up or leave. And by the looks of everyone else, those guys will wish it was the waiter and not one of the patrons.

I didn't pay attention to the three guys anymore, because my eyes spotted someone else in the café. Zain. The same Zain I let live when I had my revenge for my mother. He had a lot of nerve to show up here. If these people know he is an Enforcer he is dead meat.

“Keep the table for me,” I said as I got up and left the place. I barely heard a waiter arrive and tell loudmouths to sush it, when I went through the door outside. I turned to the left and walked some way before an empty alley appeared at my side. I heard steps behind me, but before they reached me, I turned and grabbed the collar of the man and pushed him to the alley and against the wall. With a quick move of the wrist, I made a small blade appear from my sleeve.

“You got a lot of nerve to come here,” I hissed at the man as I brought the blade to his throat. Zain looked even more pathetic than when I saw him on my wedding night. He was so skinny. People here could break him by just snapping their fingers.

“I… I… I'm not here to cause trouble,” Zain stuttered. “I-I'm just here to deliver something.”

“A revenge?” I asked bringing the blade closer to his skin.

“No, no, nothing like that…” Zain said fearfully. He looked at his bag that hung at his side. “It's in the bag.”

I let go of his collar and moved my hand to the bag. I kept the blade pointing at him while I searched the bag. There were some clothes and a package but nothing dangerous like weapons or bombs. Since the package was the only thing that seemed interesting, I pulled it out.

“It was your mother's,” Zain said when he saw me bring out the package. I saw red again and pushed him against the wall with the blade alone.

“Why do you have it?” I asked growling and my snake slithered to my face.

“Her case was closed a couple of days ago. All evidence was released,” Zain quickly explained. “This was among them.”

“Why do YOU have it?” I asked.

“Because there was no one else to collect it,” Zain said quickly. “That book was one of the reasons others went after your mother. Sam tried to get it back, but he too…”

I didn't need to hear the rest. I let go of him. The moment I did he fell to his knees and rubbed the spot where my blade had pinched his throat. While he did that I opened the package. It was a book as Zain said. Unlike my other journal, this one wasn't in code. I could detect Demacian language, old one at that. Some pages had Ionian phrases. My mother taught me Ionian when I was small, but after she died I only learned Piltovan from Sam. Demacian I had to learn from different sources due to my work.

If you looked at the book without knowing any of the languages it did look like a book of witchcraft. With all the little drawings of dragons, snakes, and plants, it looked more and more like a book of horrid black magic stuff. But if you knew the languages and, like me, had a snake as a signia, things written there were very… interesting.

“Who knows of this book?” I asked. “Has anyone tried to read it?”

“No,” Zain said. “The only people who knew about it are gone. Except me. The only one who read it, or I think has read it, were Harris and Sam. I… I took a peek but I don't know Demacian.”

“So you just brought it to me?” I asked suspiciously. “Why?”

“In all honesty, I just want to leave everything behind me,” Zain said. “I'm leaving this evening with an airship to Bilgewater. But I had no idea what to do with this. Sam was determined to get this back even after he quit the forces. I… I sort of wanted to… do the right thing.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. Seeing Zain made my blood boil. But it was thanks to him that I lived that night when my mother died. If he had told others he found me… But he was there with them when they…

“I want nothing to do with you,” I said not looking at him. “So I’ll pretend not to have seen you today. This came to me by an anonymous sender.”

“Alright,” Zain said. I didn't watch as he gathered himself and walked away. I looked at the pages as I went through them. The book may not be about witchcraft but it was definitely about magic. But nothing like Hextech. It was about the signias. My signia and the two legendary ones in particular. I took the book with me back to the café and sat back in my seat. As I drank my coffee I went through the pages. Jolynn didn't ask where I got the book or about what it was. But I could tell she was curious about it. The noisy bunch had left and the café was nice and quiet again. We sat there a good while before we headed back to the Last Drop. We went through a few details regarding the houses and what they needed as we walked. Once we got to the club, Jolynn went to get a drink while I went to the kitchen and prepared dinner for whoever had earned it today, and for my husband.

I didn't get to see him till nighttime as he had a couple of meetings as well. I had to leave the food under a cover on his desk and get back to our room.

I was in bed reading the book I got when he walked to our room. He groaned as he pulled the cravat off and began to undo the vest. I knew by the signs that he didn't have a good day, but it wasn't a bad day either.

“Tough day?” I asked as I set the book down to the nightstand.

“No, just disappointing,” Silco said as he took off the vest.

“Someone screw up?” I asked.

“Yes,” Silco sighed.

I didn't ask more. If he wanted to tell me he would. After several years of marriage, I have come to know how he was after different work days. If he wouldn't tell me he thinks it isn't worth mentioning. If he would tell…

“The shipment didn't get through the bridge this time,” Silco said as he opened the door leading to the bathroom. It was that sort of day then.

I got up from the bed put on a see-through robe and walked to the door but I didn't enter the bathroom. Silco began to do his before-bed routine, he cleaned his face from makeup, brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, and later he would place an eye patch over his scarred eye.

“What stopped it this time?” I asked.

“The idiot didn't do the papers correctly,” Silco grumbled as he dabbed the skin around his scarred eye with a cloth.

“Our idiot or Marcus's?” I asked leaning to the door frame.

“Our idiot. We don't need Marcus for this sort of thing,” Silco said.

“But you will need him to the Hexgates,” I said. Silco had now started to plan to send shipments of Shimmer to other places. But that was becoming harder and harder. I too had trouble with it at first, but after a long process and several checkups later I managed to get three products out of Lanes to the Piltover, and two of those were now on their way to Nexus and Demancia. And if I could get Councilwoman Medarda to invest in my products, I get one more export product and rest can be sold in the Lanes.

Thanks to my import business many companies got products that required odd but unknown ingredients. Thanks to Singed and old notes my mother left in the journal, I knew exactly what to bring in and how. The progress Day was on the way for several weeks, but people were already getting ready for it. And that meant they needed products that only I could provide. With a mix of certain ingredients, many machines and inventions worked without the nasty smell of oils or burning fumes. It was also my products that they could add color to their “advanced” decorations. All and all Piltover made themselves look even more fancy. The irony was that I aided in that. But that's how I got money to do other businesses.

“It is not easy to get something new through the bridge,” I sighed. “You need to do it in small steps first. And get someone from that side to bring it with them first.”

“You know that's not going to happen,” Silco said before he began to brush his teeth.

“Then get it through in small stashes, gather it in one place, set Marcus to keep nosy ones away, and then arrange someone to take them to a ship,” I continued. “Remember how hard it was for me to get the ingredients for the hair dye, across the bridge to this side?” Silco hummed in confirmation.

“It took a while but I did it and without needing you to call Marcus,” I said, Silco gave me a knowing glance. “Though yes, we almost went for that one too. My point is you need patience with this. And to be smart about it. And maybe pass a coin or two for the right people.” Silco finished brushing his teeth and looked at me for a moment.

“How much are you getting across the bridge?” He asked knowing the answer himself.

“On these days? More than they should allow. But that is why some of them come to this side themselves instead of me sending it to them,” I said and moved away from the door. Yeah, I was busy selling the stuff for whoever needed to make something for the Progress day. Some asked for a huge amount of ingredients and I too was having trouble bringing it across the bridge. But when it was someone from their side going through, there was never trouble in transporting the cargo. To think they had these days people to check the bridge and whatever passes from there. But it had gotten easier than before.

I thought about telling Silco what I got from Zain but as I knew his mood, he wasn't going to listen this time. Or if he did he was going to get Zain killed for coming back. No, he had too much on his mind right now. And knowing him he was going to need a way to relax. As I considered telling him about my day, I failed to see him come out of the bathroom in his briefs and walk right behind me before he snaked his arms around my waist.

“I know you are trying to make me feel better, but I rather not talk about work right now,” Silco said as he kissed my neck. “In fact, I rather not talk at all.” Yes, this is how it usually goes after a tough day.

“Surely, not all day was so bad,” I said teasingly. I can't let him have his way every day it gets tough. Which is very often. At this part, Silco usually rips and tears my nightgown off. But today I wanted to spare my clothes from such fate. “Wasn’t there anything good happening today?”

“If you don’t let me have you then no. Nothing today is good,” Silco growled annoyingly.

“So impatient,” I tutted him as I leaned against him. “You could just ask, I will gladly remove my gown instead of you ripping it into pieces like the others.”

“I don’t ask, my dear,” Silco said growling. “Not when I'm in this mood.”

“And what is your mood then?” I teased. “Are you so angry that you carry a knife to our bedroom, or are you just so happy to see me?” I said as I sneaked my hand to feel him.

“You naughty little minx, you know very well what it is,” Silco said trying to sound menacing but it failed as he felt my hand. “Take. That. Dress. Off.”

“Since you asked,” I said and turned to kiss his cheek. While I took off my sleeping gown, I saw in my peripheral that Silco went to his nightstand and put on an eyepatch. He needed that for sleeping. And we both knew that after our salacious activity, he would not get up just for one eyepatch, even if it was for sleeping. But one time I almost poked his eye in the morning so I demanded that he used it every night. But as I had said before I wasn't going to make it easy. I had removed the nightgown but left the robe on. And since it was see-through, Silco had no trouble noticing how my snake went around my hips and the head remained on my stomach.

“What are you doing?” Silco asked his menacing tone coming back.

“I took the nightgown off, just like you asked,” I said innocently.

“Yet why you are still wearing clothes?” Silco asked as he came closer. He sounded menacing but that little quirk on his lips told me he was enjoying this as well.

“It is cold, you don't want me to get sick, do you?” I said pouting as innocently as I could.

“Get that thing off so I can warm you up,” Silco said coming to stand right in front of me. This is the part where I could decide if we get passionate and hard lovemaking before lights out. But I know Silco had a busier day tomorrow and I had also a couple of places to visit, so tonight was going to be the usual.

I lifted myself to my toes and kissed him on the lips while pressing myself against him. In a matter of seconds, Silco had me in the bed towering over me, and soon he was pounding me as he did during our honeymoon. After Jinx moved to her new “room”, if I could call it a room, we had had many nights like this. Silco would have me in our bed, sometimes hard something sensually, but it always ended with both of us satisfied and tired. It also guaranteed that he won't murder anyone the next morning.

We were also a bit free to exploit more into this activity ever since Jinx found her new “room”. I call it room since it is still very close to the Last Drop. Otherwise, I'd call it her “place”. But since it is connected to the Last Drop in a couple of “ways”, I stick to the room concept.

So many things had changed since Silco and I got married. Yet the dream of Zaun still felt too far away. I know because now that the Hexgates got even more popular, the Lanes had more trouble keeping up with the commercials of the other places. I managed to get my own business to squeeze into their spot in the import businesses, but it still didn’t help Silco with his own projects.

“What products did you sell again?” Silco asked me as he lay partly on top of me, his head resting on my chest.

“You know very well what I sell,” I said tiredly after our make-out session. He must be desperate to get the Shinmer to the docks if he brought that topic to our bed.

“I wish to hear it anyway,” Silco said and kissed my collarbone. I sighed and began to list what my products were. As I spoke Silco held me tighter and made himself comfortable on top of me, so his head could lie right between my boobs.

“And how did you get them across the bridge?” Silco asked once I listed all my products. I didn't want to talk about work. Not in our bed. And since I was tired I was also a bit annoyed. The snake was barely at my face when I used my hand to grab some of Silco's hair from the nape of his head and lifted his head up from my chest.

“I don't want work to our bed,” I said with a tired and angry tone. For a very short moment, there was surprise and shock in Silco's eyes but it quickly turned into a knowing smile and his hand came to rest over mine which held his hair.

“Apologies, dear,” He said and slowly removed my hand from his hair. “I simply have no other chance to speak with you while we are both relaxed like this.”

“If it's work we can discuss it in your office,” I said.

“Oh, but we agreed we won't practice certain things in my office,” Silco said and brought my hand to his lips to kiss it tenderly. “Or in the kitchen.”

“You really want to talk about work after sex?” I asked not believing him.

“Sometimes,” Silco said and kissed my hand again. “Sometimes I simply wish to remain in your embrace and fade to sleep.”

“You are impossible to live with sometimes,” I sighed. I tried to move my hand away but Silco kept it tightly in his hand as he kissed my palm and began to move to my wrist. “Not too long ago. You didn't want to talk about work or anything else but now it's you who started the topic.”

“My mood improved, my dear,” Silco said as he kissed my wrist. “You could ask me to shut down one of my factories and take a day off, and I would oblige.”

“Really?” I asked with a hint of amusement. “If I ask for you to stop making Shimmer altogether and take off for us to have some quality time together, you would do it?”

“All in reason, dear,” Silco warned me and graced my wrist with his teeth. “Good sex gets you so far.”

“What about great sex?” I asked still amused.

“With our schedules? I doubt we have that much energy,” Silco said and let go of my hand and resumed to hug my body.

“You maybe,” I giggled and felt him squeeze me in his arms.

“Sometimes I think that signia is giving you too many advantages,” Silco sighed and was slowly falling to sleep.

“And you love it, just admit it,” I giggled and hugged him back. I barely heard a hum of an answer before Silco fell to sleep while holding me. I reached to kiss his head before I too got sleep in his arms.

Next ->

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totalcarerepairing · 1 year ago

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shananasrin · 1 year ago

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macsolutionexpert086 · 2 years ago

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appyplanetservices · 2 years ago

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vbondsolution · 2 years ago

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dawso67 · 2 days ago

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Prime Apple Valley Warehouse Space for Lease – Your Business’s Next Strategic Move

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itsappleexpert · 4 days ago

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Your iPhone Fixed By True Apple Experts

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Stand behind their work with warranties

It’s not just about fixing a device — it’s about restoring your trust in it.

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When your iPhone needs repair, don’t leave it to chance. Choose true Apple experts who bring knowledge, skill, and care to every repair they perform. With genuine parts, certified technicians, and a commitment to quality, you’ll get your iPhone back in top shape and fast.

Because when it comes to your most important device, only the best will do.

#Iphone Repair #Macbook Repair #iPad Screen Repair #macbook battery replacement #iPhone Screen Repair

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iprocarestore · 4 days ago

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Apple products are known for their premium quality, cutting-edge technology, and seamless user experience. Whether it's the sleek design of the iPhone, the powerhouse performance of the MacBook, or the versatility of the iPad, Apple has created a devoted customer base across the globe. In Bangalore — India’s Silicon Valley — Apple users are abundant, ranging from tech-savvy professionals and entrepreneurs to creative artists and students.

However, even the most meticulously crafted Apple devices are not immune to issues. From hardware malfunctions to software bugs, Apple users occasionally encounter problems that require professional assistance. That’s where Apple-authorized service centers in Bangalore come into play. These centers offer expert diagnosis, genuine parts, and trained technicians to resolve a wide range of issues.

In this article, we will explore the most common problems resolved at Apple service centers in Bangalore, what users can expect during their visit, and tips to ensure a smooth repair experience.

1. iPhone Screen and Display Issues

One of the most frequent reasons people visit Apple service centers in Bangalore is screen-related problems, especially with iPhones.

Common Problems:

Cracked or shattered screens from accidental drops

Unresponsive touchscreens

Dead pixels or display discoloration

Screen flickering or ghosting

Face ID failure due to screen damage

Service Offered:

Apple service centers use genuine replacement screens, and in most cases, if the iPhone is still under warranty or covered by AppleCare+, screen repairs can be done at a significantly reduced cost.

Tip:

Always back up your iPhone before handing it over, especially for screen replacements, as repairs may require a factory reset.

2. Battery and Charging Issues

Battery degradation is natural with time, but sometimes battery-related problems appear sooner than expected.

Common Battery Issues:

Rapid battery drain

Inaccurate battery percentage

Swollen batteries

Charging port issues (phone not charging or charging slowly)

Apple Service Center Solution:

Technicians run a battery diagnostics test using Apple’s proprietary tools. If the battery health is below 80% and the device is under warranty, you may be eligible for a free battery replacement.

For charging port issues, cleaning or port replacement may be necessary.

3. MacBook Keyboard and Trackpad Problems

Apple MacBooks, particularly the models with the controversial butterfly keyboard, have faced widespread issues.

Common MacBook Issues:

Sticky or unresponsive keys

Double typing

Trackpad not clicking or moving

Touch Bar malfunctions (on newer models)

Resolutions:

Apple had a Keyboard Service Program for some MacBooks, which covered eligible models with keyboard issues. Most Apple service centers in Bangalore can replace the entire top case, which includes the keyboard, battery, and trackpad.

4. Software Malfunctions and OS Issues

Not all issues are hardware-related. Apple service centers often assist users facing software problems.

Common Software Complaints:

iOS or macOS crashes

Devices stuck on Apple logo

Boot loop issues

Failed updates or installations

App freezing or crashing

Malware or unwanted configuration issues (more common with Macs)

What Apple Service Centers Do:

Technicians perform a diagnostic scan, and in some cases, a complete OS reinstall or restore via DFU mode (for iPhones/iPads) is necessary. If the issue is software-only, it's often resolved without any hardware replacement.

5. Water Damage Repair

Despite modern iPhones and Apple Watches having water resistance ratings, water damage is still a common reason for repair — especially in monsoon-prone Bangalore.

Typical Scenarios:

Phones dropped in water, sinks, toilets

MacBooks exposed to rain or spillage

Corrosion of internal circuits due to moisture

How Service Centers Help:

Apple-authorized centers first conduct a moisture damage assessment using liquid contact indicators (LCIs). If water damage is confirmed, they may suggest logic board repairs or replacements, depending on the extent of the damage.

Note: Water damage is not covered under standard Apple warranty but might be partially covered under AppleCare+ depending on the region and plan.

6. Logic Board and Hardware Failure

The logic board (motherboard) is the heart of any Apple device. If this fails, the device may not power on, or may behave erratically.

Common Signs:

Device doesn’t boot

Random shutdowns

Overheating

No display, even though the device is turned on

Service Solution:

Apple service centers have specialized tools to identify board-level issues. If required, they replace the logic board. Depending on the age and warranty status, it might be expensive — but it guarantees original quality and warranty.

7. Camera and Audio Problems

Many iPhone and iPad users in Bangalore report issues with camera modules or audio components.

Camera Issues:

Blurry photos

Camera app crashes

Front or rear camera not working

Face ID issues tied to TrueDepth camera

Audio Issues:

No sound during calls

Microphone not working

Earpiece or speaker crackling

AirPods not connecting properly

What’s Done:

Apple service centers test individual components and offer replacements for faulty parts. Face ID and camera replacements are done with great care since they’re tied to the device’s secure enclave.

8. iCloud and Apple ID Support

Many Apple users, especially first-time buyers or older users, face issues with Apple ID and iCloud lockouts.

Common Issues:

Forgot Apple ID password

Two-factor authentication problems

Locked out of device due to Activation Lock

How Service Centers Help:

Apple service centers cannot unlock devices without proof of ownership. However, they can assist in initiating the iCloud removal process if you provide original invoices or proof of purchase.

9. Apple Watch Issues

Apple Watch users may encounter unique issues that are handled by service centers:

Common Watch Issues:

Watch not turning on

Touchscreen unresponsive

Strap mechanism failure

Sensor problems (heart rate, SpO2)

Battery drain or charging dock issues

Solutions Offered:

Depending on the model, Apple often replaces the entire watch unit if the issue can’t be resolved, especially within warranty.

10. Accessories and Peripheral Support

People often visit Apple centers with issues related to accessories:

Common Problems:

AirPods not pairing or charging

MagSafe charger malfunction

Lightning cables and adapters not working

Apple Pencil connection issues

Service Support:

If under warranty, accessories like AirPods, Apple Pencil, power adapters, and charging cables may be replaced free of charge.

How to Prepare Before Visiting an Apple Service Center in Bangalore

To ensure a smoother experience, here are some tips:

Backup your device to iCloud or a computer before handing it over.

Carry proof of purchase — invoices are necessary for warranty claims or Apple ID/iCloud issues.

Check your warranty status on the Apple coverage site.

Book an appointment online through the Apple Support app or website. Walk-ins may have longer waiting times.

Remove personal data if you’re submitting a device for replacement or logic board repair.

Popular Apple Service Centers in Bangalore

Here are a few authorized Apple service centers in Bangalore with good reputations:

Unicorn Apple Authorized Service Provider – Multiple locations including Koramangala and Indiranagar.

iCare – Known for fast service and skilled technicians.

Imagine – Located in malls and tech parks across the city.

FutureWorld – Available in central Bangalore.

F1 Info Solutions & Services – Apple’s direct service partner for corporate and consumer repairs.

⚠️ Tip: Always ensure the service center is Apple-authorized. Third-party centers may void warranties if they use non-genuine parts.

Conclusion

Apple service centers in Bangalore cater to a vast range of issues — from cracked iPhone screens and failing MacBook keyboards to complex logic board failures and Apple ID troubles. With professional staff, diagnostic tools, and genuine parts, these centers ensure your device is treated with care and precision.

Whether you’re a startup founder using a MacBook Pro or a student relying on your iPhone, knowing where and how to get your Apple device repaired in Bangalore can save time, money, and frustration.

If you’re currently facing any issues, don’t delay — get your device checked by an expert. After all, with the right service, your Apple device can continue performing at its best for years to come.

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