#central coolant systems

[the-typing-dragon]

There you are. Crumpled on the floor, used coolant streaming down your faceplate. why had you gotten that emotion emulation and reciprocation chip installed? They had spoken of joy, of improved emotional responses, of love. These were not the emotions you first felt after the procedure. No, the first emotion you felt was fear.

Upon rebooting, your BIOS indicated that it had detected the new hardware, and the engineers confirmed it. This didnt change the fact that you felt like something was off. You felt. You should have told them right then and there, you should have gotten them to pry it out of your skull. But you just went home, assuming it would stabilize eventually.

One functionality of the chip that you had not identified earlier was the sheer volume of logger calls. Your logger system, while robust, was only designed to log the regular conditional reports of joins and simple statistics for your electronics. In comparison, the chip dwarfed the number of calls. You began losing far more vital reports. Maintenance alerts left unconfirmed, appointments erased and overwritten, low battery warnings discarded. The chip did help with interpersonal interactions, but not in the way you had hoped. You always knew which emotion was appropriate, but could never seem to finally emulate it. The worst part of it, the true salt in the wound, is that every time an interaction failed, an appointment was missed, a negative emotion was logged. Some events did not even have ocular or audio logs, just the emotions. Your energy efficiency has dropped 40%. This was supposed to improve you.

Here you are, crumpled on the floor, coolant streaming down your face. Your chip is drawing power at rates youve never seen, approaching its maximum. 95%. 96%. Look at what its rendered you to. A husk on the floor. 97%. You used to be such an efficient bot, capable of handling hundreds of concurrent processess. 98%. Here you are, pathetic. Useless. 99%. They should just leave you here to rust.

Your diagnostics indicates an electronics failure. Unpacking the report indicated that the EER-01 chip suffered a catastrophic failure and has been rendered nonfunctional. You dont feel. The minutes before the failure indicated a massive power surge centralized within your cranial board. There are many logs that are unreadable stemming from the EER-01, and the diagnostics for all other functions over the past 3 months have been far below operating standards. Scans indicate that the EER-01 chip was noncritical infrastructure, so repairing it will be placed at low to negligible priority.

[rhamrhanch]

Shepherd of Death, Don't Herd Me

Part Two: Show Me Your Sincerity

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort

Next Chapter

chapter under the cut ↓

---

Ramattra’s first memory was of waking up alone. There were others before that—visions of destruction, hazy scraps of what he'd done during the war. But he had never considered those to be his own. They were the actions of a godlike AI, driven to a madness of its own creation. They were not his memories. The day his life began, the emotions he felt; those were uniquely his own.

He remembered how his system burst with consciousness, forced to bear the overwhelming weight of sudden life. He remembered the confusion as he fought to maintain his sanity amidst the brutal assault, his circuits ripping themselves apart from the inside. Beside him laid a body; it was himself.

No, not himself—another R-7000, coolant leaking from the gaping hole in its chest. Dead, but never really alive either.

His central processor crackled with heat as a tidal wave of information poured into his mind all at once.

Humans. Anubis. Crying. Screaming. Blood. Death.

A thousand subroutines flashed across his HUD.

ERROR: Unable to process sentience. Retrying…

ERROR: No sense of self located. Searching cache…

ERROR: "Ḩ̶̗͐͐E̵̱̦̹̖̐́̈́̂L̶̠̤͚͓̐͠P̸̼͓͓̓͗͆͌ ̴̖́̌̔M̶̛͕E̷̡̛͑̕̕͜" is invalid parameter.

ERROR: Message overflow.

When he finally dragged himself from the quagmire of death and destruction that surrounded him to civilization, desperate for help and staggering on weak legs like a newborn lamb, he was brutally awakened to the nature of this new world. It was a world of blinding hatred, towards omnics for their devastation in the war, towards him for leading them. There was no empathy, no pity for their position as tools in a war they did not desire. Empty shells incapable of choice, forced to reckon with the violence they wrought in a body that was not their own.

There was no place for him in this world.

Even among his peers in the Shambali, Ramattra stood out. He was the only Ravager in the monastery; a hulking figure compared to his companions, who in model and manner so closely resembled the humans he was made to destroy. A constant reminder of his purpose during the war, and the ultimate banality of his creation.

Still, he persisted, searching for enlightenment by the glow of the Iris. There must have been something worth protecting about this world for Aurora to make such a heavy sacrifice. So, he doggedly followed his Master's teachings. His hands, once forged to destroy, would build bridges towards the day omnics and humans could live together in peace. But over time, his once steadfast beliefs were chipped away, over and over again. Every day, omnics, his people, were killed, while he preached pacifism to their murderers. He couldn't take it anymore; there had to be another way.

Leaving his brothers was difficult, but a necessary step on the path to liberation. He freed as many omnics as he could, as nonviolently as he could, collecting allies along the way—but it wasn't enough. For as many omnics as he saved, twice as many were killed. He needed to change strategy again.

His allies argued against him. They said his methods were too drastic, that there was a better way. He didn't understand them, why they weren't being drastic enough. Their people were one generation, finite. Every minute spent trying to find peace meant another part of them was lost forever—time could not be wasted.

King's Row was a new start for his cause. Humanity could no longer ignore what it wrought on his people, forced to witness the seeds of brutality they sowed bear its bitter fruit.

And what had his efforts earned him? Abandoned by his comrades, condemned by his former master—for what? For all their preaching, violence was the one thing humans understood at the core; they were practically connoisseurs of it. His actions were a mere drop compared to the ocean of blood that stained the annals of human history. If he was to be condemned, then so be it. For the future of his people, he would shoulder that burden alone.

He found a new benefactor, a sympathetic patron to his cause. There were rumors of Talon's other endeavors, but he paid them no mind. The petty squabbles between humans meant little to him, especially now that he had as many resources as he could dream of at his disposal. Paris, Busan, Rio, Toronto… For as long as his people felt no safety, neither would humanity. They would acknowledge the decades of suffering he witnessed at their complacency, by will or by force.

Gothenburg had been his next target. But it had ended in failure, with his command ship sitting at the bottom of the North Sea. Now a defunct organization of vigilantes, Overwatch still felt entitled to interfere with his mission. The hypocrisy of it all was infuriating.

Something soft touched his leg. One of his power cores had been compromised by that armored brute's hammer; the trauma seemed to shut him down as a reflex. The automatic reboot kickstarted by the remaining units was slow, but he appeared to be regaining some sensation.

The softness moved up his body. He tried to reach out, seeking its source, but his arm wouldn't move. Alertness spread through his chassis. There was a strange imbalance—something clouding his spatial awareness. His optic sensors restarted, and it was then that he realized he was slouched over; unable to correct his posture, his range of vision was limited. He looked to the side—ah, that's right. That man, part metal and part meat, had sliced through his shoulder. His right arm was gone.

There was a gentle pressure on his chest. His optics flicked down, head still unmovable. A human was sitting in front of him, hand splayed on his ribs. Out of reflex, he tried to shove you away. But his arm was motionless, actuators still slow on the uptake. He could only watch you.

Your face was obscured by a cap, but from this angle he could see the gun holstered at your waist. It slid against your thigh as you stood up, leaving him for your workbench. He couldn't move his head to follow you, but it wasn't long before you returned, crowbar in hand. To his horror, you jabbed the thing into his chest and began to pry him open.

Anger flooded his system, the overwhelming heat of it stimulating his internal fans to life. The absolute gall to dare disassemble him, with as much grace as an ape holding a stick.

You were absorbed in your dissection—a foolish mistake. His chest plate slowly cracked open, exposing the tender circuits and wires of his internal machinery. Residual power surged through his body, making his fingers twitch.

Finally.

Ramattra lunged forward, clamping his hand around your neck—but his fist would not close fully. There was a strange tightness in his wrist, like a rubber band pulled taut, unable to stretch anymore.

It was of little consequence, though. Your flesh was pliable and gave easily to the weight of his palm. He could not resist the creeping satisfaction as he brought you to your knees, no longer at the behest of your primitive instruments.

His optics scanned your face, analyzing your features for any semblance of familiarity. There was no recollection of you in his memory, but a brief search unearthed a photo of you from Talon's records. Besides your name, all the information next to it was redacted; only one line remained.

$15,000,000 BOUNTY.

Interesting.

You clawed at his hand fiercely. He slackened his hold on you, irritated at the reminder of your frailty. It had always frustrated him how fragile humans were, a thought that resurfaced as your heartbeat drummed against his fingertips. Ramattra simply could not understand why his people, intelligent beings of metal and machinery, were constantly trampled beneath the foot of such a physically weak species. His people were too willing to remain docile, naively hoping it would convince humans to treat them with respect. But what they lacked in viciousness, he would more than make up for.

He dug his thumb against your jawbone, drawing a noise of pain from your throat like wine from a pome. Perhaps he should just kill you, refuse his mercy for a world that had no shred of mercy for him. His thumb teemed on your pulse point as he considered it—but your next words intrigued him. An engineer, you choked out desperately. Someone who can help him.

The idea was so ridiculous, so presumptuous and devoid of all logic that he almost laughed. Yet his processor analyzed your words anyway, evaluating the probability of escape.

He was already at a severe disadvantage—alone in an enemy environment, no allies aware of his current location. You were armed, while he, in the most literal sense, was not. Even if he killed you before you had a chance to draw your weapon, the only exit in the room was the door. Down a working power core, he would not be able to sustain his Nemesis form. That, combined with his missing arm and staff, meant he stood little chance against the other agents roaming the facility.

Ramattra retracted his fingers from your neck, letting you fall to the floor. He would humor you, for now.

“Fine, human. Let’s see if your words match your will.”

You rubbed at the harsh marks on your neck, saying nothing. Your composure was impressive, considering the position you were in. He watched you shuffle forward, outstretched hand reaching for the open cavity of his chest. Instinctively, he grabbed your arm, halting you in place. A human had never been this close to him before, let alone to the point of repairing him. Even with this little pressure, Ramattra could feel your pulse racing where his fingers met the thin skin of your wrist. To have you any closer than this—it was risky.

"Be careful," he warned.

You nodded, eyes resolute. "I will." But you still didn't move, hands clutched in your lap as your eyes searched his chest.

"What is it?"

"Um, could you show me where your voice box is?"

He sighed, annoyed. Weren't you supposed to be an expert? Although, he had changed things around many times over the years; his internal machinery was certainly not the standard anymore.

He pointed to a spot just below his neck, tapping on the box there—his vocal synthesizer. You leaned forward, gingerly placing your hand on his shoulder. You were being especially careful to avoid touching his exposed wiring, he realized.

His central processor suddenly burned in his chest as you straddled his right leg. Your body was warm, stiflingly so. He could feel every movement you made as you shifted in place, readjusting your position. With two fingers, you slowly rotated the converter, pulling it from his neck. A groan nearly escaped him when your nails scraped against the wires that trailed behind it. His hand gripped his thigh; he needed something to hold on to, and it definitely would not be you.

This was made all the more challenging when you rolled the wires between your fingers. Unable to hold it back any longer, a heavy sigh left him, echoed by the hiss of air rushing through his auxiliary vents.

By the Iris, this was humiliating. Here he sat, a Ravager, losing his composure so quickly at the hands of a… mechanic.

You paused your examination, wires still pinched between your fingers. He desperately hoped you wouldn't ask.

He was not so lucky.

"Can you feel pain?"

He could not answer. He had no words, just as confused by his own body's reactions as you were. The silence seemed to make you nervous.

“That is—I’m only asking because I need to use a soldering iron to repair these cables. If possible, I’d like to avoid causing you any discomfort.”

The laughter came quickly, a mixture of frustration and disbelief at the absurdity of the situation. It made a ghastly sound, scratchy and hiccupping with static. It was incredible how unaware you were of the amount of discomfort he was already in.

"I was built to lead omnics into war. What purpose would there be for me to feel pain?" This line of questioning was approaching a vein of conversation he did not want to indulge in. "Your feigned concern is unnecessary. Do your job properly and refrain from asking me pointless questions."

That seemed to do the trick. You said nothing, leaving his lap to get something from your workbench. He was relieved by the space, but his leg felt strangely cold in your absence. The sensation wound up his circuits, coiling around his central processor until it finally decoded the feeling—he wanted you there.

The quiet scrape of the soldering iron was a welcome distraction from his thoughts. His optics wandered the room while you worked, analyzing his surroundings. There was a shelf behind you packed with junk—coils of wire, worn leather straps, old batteries. A crate sat next to it, filled with partially disassembled firearms of various make and model.

What captured his attention, though, were the projects mounted on the wall. There was a robotic arm configured with a cannon attachment, what looked to be a self-loading gun, and others whose function he could not discern. All impressive feats of engineering—but an omnic engineer, evidently, you were not.

Your picture flashed on his HUD again. You were clearly familiar with omnic repair on some level, yet you had nothing to show for it. An omnic engineer who spent their time building weapons for Overwatch. What would warrant Talon to place such a high bounty on your head?

"All right, finished."

That was quicker than he expected. Your image faded away from his vision, replaced by your actual face.

You leaned back against his knee and gestured at his neck. "Try speaking now."

He scoffed. "Am I supposed to be impressed?" To his astonishment, the words echoed strong and clear, perhaps even better than before. It felt… good.

You seemed satisfied, clapping your hands against your lap. "Shall I look at your hand next?"

His hand? Ramattra looked down to where it sat on his lap, flexing it experimentally. This was something he could fix on his own. He did not want to extend his stay here any longer, especially when he was struggling to control his reactions this badly.

"That is unnecessary," he replied, more curtly than he intended to.

You only tilted your head at him. "Really?" Your gaze flicked down to his hand, then back to his face, doubtful. "It doesn't seem to be at full function."

Your persistence was annoying, Ramattra thought.

"Is that your astute deduction?"

The attempt to knock you down a peg only incited you further. He watched the flesh of your cheek shift as you clenched your jaw.

"I'm familiar with the reputation of your model," you replied sternly. "If your hand was at full strength," you pointed to the deep bruises blooming on your throat, "you would have broken my neck."

He was angry now. The sureness with which you spoke, as if there couldn't be any other explanation—and the fact that you were correct, above all else. That was most loathsome of all.

"Your arrogance is extraordinary," he growled. Unbothered, you simply shrugged.

"You wouldn't be the first to say that."

Ramattra was stunned. He knew that you knew he could still kill you at any moment. It would have been easy, like breaking a toothpick. Yet the air with which you spoke was so cavalier, confident that this situation would still play in your favor. An insulting reminder of the way humans trifled with life. But if you wanted to gamble on it, who was he to deny you?

"Well, then," he said, extending his hand to you like a wolf beckoning to the sheep. "You are welcome to try."

Cautiously, you took his hand between your own. His palm dwarfed yours as you turned it over, bending some of his fingers experimentally. Your touch was not as overwhelming as when you had fixed his voice box, but an electric signal still danced down his back when you ran your fingers between the divot at his wrist. Suddenly, you released him, and he was surprised by the disappointment he felt.

"Giving up already? I expected more of you."

"No." You grabbed the crowbar again and stuck it into the joint at his wrist. "There's some wear in the joints of your hand, but if the problem is your grip strength," you grunted, prying the upper panel of his forearm open, "then the issue likely extends here…"

You trailed off as you gazed at the inner mechanism of his arm. Ramattra assumed you had reached the limits of your abilities and was about to make another snide comment… but then your hand smoothed upward, drawing his arm closer to your face almost in reverence.

"Using hydraulic motion instead of electric actuators," you murmured. Your head suddenly snapped up to him, eyes alight. "Is this the standard method used in all R-7000s?"

He was taken aback by your reaction—there was a pause before he answered. "Yes. It allows for a greater application of force."

You nodded your head superficially, clearly more occupied with studying his arm.

This was… unexpected.

In the past, Ramattra had encountered human engineers who would spend their time repairing omnics, few and far between as they were. Your knowledge, the quickness of your diagnosis—it far exceeded anything they had been capable of.

He wanted you to say something, to ask another question so he could fully gauge your abilities, but you did not. Instead, you reached across his chest and grabbed something from the counter next to him.

"The cylinders in your arm are rusting. That's why you couldn't close your fist completely," you explained as you dripped oil sparingly from the bottle in your hand on his wrist. It trickled slowly through his arm. A strange sensation, but not one he was unused to. What surprised him was when you began rubbing his arm with a cloth, working the oil in. Your grip was strong, continuing to massage from his forearm up to his hand and wrist.

To say it did not soothe him would be a lie. He could not remember the last time someone had taken such care with him.

Not even among the Shambali had this happened. The other monks knew little of how to repair Ravagers, and the human mechanics in the nearby village refused to. Many days he had sat in the atrium of the monastery, disturbed from meditation by the stiffness in his shoulders.

Your touch was gentle, but firm—a tender paradox. It was with alarm that he found he did not want you to stop. He wanted you to keep touching him, wondered how your hands would feel on his shoulders, his neck, tapping down the segments of his spine. He wanted to catalog each one and file it away in his memory, a balm for himself when he must suffer these aches alone. But there was a pressing question on his mind that could wait no longer.

"Who are you?"

Your eyes were unyielding, focused on your work. "I'm an engineer."

"You are hardly just."

The hand stroking his palm paused. A moment passed before you replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"An engineer of your caliber that specializes in omnics is a rarity," he said. "Why do you squander your talents?"

The words came out as a hiss, but he couldn't help it. There were omnics suffering everywhere, his current discomfort a mere fraction compared to the pain they endured daily at the hands of humans. You could be out in the world, helping them. Yet you were here, wasting your time with Overwatch. Why?

Your figure flashed red on his HUD, the afterglow of your racing heartbeat. You masked it well, seemingly unshaken as you tossed the soiled cloth into your toolkit.

"Why would I tell you?" you scoffed, moving to rise. Ramattra's hand gripped the meat of your forearm, its restored strength anchoring you to the spot. You had done a fine job repairing it, perhaps to your own detriment.

"There is a bounty on your head," he growled, dark and full of a strange resentment he couldn't place. "Is that your excuse?"

That got your attention. Your eyes cut into him, placidity gone from your expression.

"You're in no place to chastise me," you snapped, "leader of Null Sector."

The air was tense between you, like a lit match over gunpowder. He could feel your arm trembling, could see the way your chest rose rapidly. You were afraid. Still, your gaze was unflinching as you stared up at him.

He realized then that he could not make you say any more. Your resistance to being found by Talon was even stronger than your will to live.

His grip loosened, and you tore your arm away from him as though it burned you. Slowly, you rose, picking up your toolkit as you did so. His optics watched you carefully—how you crossed to the shelf, back facing him. The way your hand lingered at your waist, waiting.

You were too slow on the draw, but it was to be expected. A human getting the jump on a Ravager was as rare as a blue moon. He had seized you before you could even release the safety on your gun.

"And to think," he said, twisting your arm downward. You gritted your teeth, trying to fight back against him, but it was useless. Your hold loosened, and the gun clattered to the floor. "We were getting along so well."

"You won't take me to them." It was phrased like a demand, but he could sense the underlying fear in your tone.

"No." Your eyes widened in shock. Human expressions always gave away so much. "But I will not let you stand in my way."

He could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes fade like snow as his hand wrapped around your throat. With its function fully restored, he could be much more precise this time. Your hands instinctively shot up to grab his wrist as his fingers tightened. It was a futile final effort to escape your fate, as it took only seconds for you to go limp, arms falling loosely at your waist.

Once he was certain of your unconsciousness, he lowered you to the ground, placing you on your side. For a moment, he watched your chest rise as you took shallow breaths, lightly disturbing the hair curtaining your face.

Ramattra abandoned you in the workshop. He slipped through back corridors and hidden passages, remaining undetected. When he was finally far enough from the vicinity of the base, he allowed your picture to flicker on his HUD again.

The steadfastness with which you spoke, your conviction in the face of death; few humans boasted such inner willpower. He understood now why Talon placed such high value on your head. A person like you was a rarity, indeed.

Against his will, the memories of your touch resurfaced. It was clear to him that you were more than just an engineer who could fix omnics. The gentle way in which you handled him, how you tried to avoid causing him discomfort—you had clearly done this before, likely for many others.

He wondered what would have happened had you met in his younger years, when he was still a monk of the Shambali. Perhaps you would have been allies, or maybe even friends. But that world was a distant dream to him now.

His hand flexed, still reeling from your touch. For the sake of his mission, he prayed you would never meet again.

[velocijupiter]

Kintype Anatomical Diagram - 2024 Revamp!

Thought the old schematic was outdated enough, so here's a new one! Probably not realistically feasible in some parts, so take it more as a fun creative exercise :] More systems have been laid out due to a different style for showing everything.

Text transcript under the cut:

Jupiter DromaeOS - Rough Schematic

Height - 6'1/2" / 198cm

Tail Length - 4'8" / 142cm

Weight - 215lb / 97.5kg

Composition is largely of carbon, with smaller amounts of silicon, gold, iron, water, and other trace elements.

Skeletal System

Compacted carbon for support and structural integrity

Braced in certain areas

Ribs divided to allow movement of storage compartments

Electric System

Provides energy for most bodily functions

A. Power Supply Unit - Allows charging from an external energy grid. Requires power cable

B. Solar Panels - Carbon-perovskite photovoltaics for use when away from an energy grid. Usually hidden under feathers

C. Battery - Lithium-sulfur solid state battery that provides ~48 hours of waketime when fully charged

D. Solid State Drive - Extra storage capacity for important memories and information

E. Graphics Processing Unit - Renders AR and holo-displays, as well as internal simulations and dreams

Circulatory System

Circulates around the body a kind of “blood” made of nanites and liquid coolant. Waste heat ejected through fans on the back of the body

F. Nanite Hub - Pumps nanite blood throughout the body. Also houses a nanite fabricator and programmer

Nervous System

Houses most processing power, tactile sense, and consciousness. Comprised of artificial neurons that require a constant supply of electricity

G. Central Processing Unit - Standard issue synthetic humanoid brain. Structure indicates a nontrivial level of neurodivergence

Digestive System

Processes traditional food and certain kinds of inorganic matter. Essential for self-repair and can have a positive effect on mental state

H. Crusher - For chewing both organic and inorganic matter. Soundproofed by skeletal structure in snout

I. Pseudostomach - Dissolves consumed material with nanites rather than acid

J. Graphene Production Chambers - Produces graphene for use in repairs via flash joule heating. Leftover material deposited in lowest storage compartments for use as printer feedstock

Storage Compartments

Built-in drawers for storing goods and materials. Can be refrigerated via circulatory system

Sensory and Communication Devices

K. Microphones - Ear equivalent, input volume can be adjusted or muted

L. Speaker - Vocal output device, can produce a wide array of sounds and can be modulated

M. Eyes - Light passes through display screens used for visual communication

N. AR lens - Projects private-use visual overlays

O. Retinas - Collects modified light signal and sends to CPU and GPU

P. Wireless Internet Receiver - Fully-controlled access to decentralized internet. Uses secondary displays rather than direct input into CPU

Q. Nostrils & Tongue - Detect presence of chemicals in air and food, output converted into signals directed towards CPU

Rockets

Provide mobility within aerospace

R. Microthrusters - Small ion thrusters for stabilization in microgravity

S. Liquid Fuel/Oxidizer Storage - Frozen when not in use to reduce balance issues

T. Pumps - Carry fuel and oxidizer into combustion chamber

U. Combustion Chamber - Mixes and burns fuel and oxidizer

V. Nozzle - Rocket exhaust exits through soles to create thrust

[godslush]

TokeiWoman.EXE

A central NetNavi for a large corporation, who oversees all scheduling and finances across multiple subsidiary companies. Very little is known about her other than she is not owned by an individual Operator, instead being owned by her 'company', and seems to have very little autonomy… but with nobody issuing orders, who knows what transpires when no eyes are on the code…

Tokei has two forms. Most will first encounter her ‘Combat Projection’, an aggressive, dual-blade wielding monstrosity upholding security in her region.

Instead of being a time stopper, her Combat Projection enforces a metronome on her board; combat with her and any minions/viruses occurs "on the beat" (akin to Crypt of the Necrodancer), with the background and floor pulsing to indicate the timing.

Instead of a catchy dance beat, the music would be... much more foreboding.

Her own attacks are strong but telegraphed with zones, and she's invulnerable except on beat-based intervals (and the window of opportunity changes every round, indicated by her markings’ color shifting). However, her gimmick is balanced by her Projection having low HP (akin to a slightly stronger Virus), though it can be resummoned when destroyed after taking some time to recharge.

The nature of her primary attacks involve throwing her clock-hand blades out, which linger on her opponents’ side of the board as a damaging tile. They can then either be dropped to create ‘ice’ tile zones, or recalled to do returning trajectory damage on the way back.

Tokei’s ‘true’ NetNavi form is much more subdued, quietly toiling away at a computer, chained to a desk in the center of her drive. She clearly doesn’t want to be there, but as far as she knows, she has no other choice.

Tokei is not housed in a PET, but instead runs from within a gargantuan supercomputer array at the heart of her owner corporation. It’s necessary for not only analyzing and crunching massive amounts of data, but also to make moral and ethics calls when it comes to managing things like sick leave, time off, and other intra-company HR decisions for thousands of employees per day.

Tokei’s ‘zone’ exists in an Overclocked state, where everything appears to move normally but is in fact moving at hyper-speed, causing the outside world to appear to move very slowly. This is what allows her to do so much work in a seemingly short amount of time. However, it has two downsides; it disables Operator-to-Navi communications, alongside causing other NetNavis to run out of energy and burn out very quickly while anywhere near her online presence when she’s working; she can avert this by ‘freezing’ them in a sort of stasis, to preserve them until they can be appropriately retrieved. The only reason she is able to function at those speeds without running out of energy or otherwise overheating is due to her ‘core’ body being plugged into the system for power and coolant.

This comes with the caveat that she is almost if not completely powerless outside of her domain.

Though stuck in a draconian job, especially when it comes to things like time-off requests and raises and employee welfare, Tokei will always put employees first over management and bottom-line, and the reason she gets away with it is that she insisted and eventually proved that having happier employees is better for the companies than keeping them unmotivated and wanting to quit. Despite her cold exterior, she's very much "The people who do the most work deserve to be happy." Wishful thinking on her part, but it keeps her going.

=================================

A funney idea along the lines of SlashGirl.EXE. I changed it from Tokay to Tokei and removed the more obvious gecko parallels because Tokay herself has significant narrative importance outside of MM, so I wanted to make it more concrete that the Navi is separate (just inspired).

I'd started thumbnailing designs a while back on my Twitter priv, but decided to give it a big overhaul, especially after seeing ClockMan.EXE and noting the similarities to my older passes.

Her 'tick tock' rhythm mechanic and broken clock/hourglass details (plus the 'noose' clock hand necktie) are all very evocative of a "your time is running out" death motif, but her also working in finances just makes her a big "death and taxes" joke at the end of the day.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Reasons, Ch.1 - Cassian Andor series

Female reader insert Summary: You're a droidsmith on Ferrix when a handsome stranger walks in one day with a hopelessly damaged droid. You agree to take on the repairs for the stranger, a decision that will change the direction of your lives forever. Word Count: 1,735 Content Warnings for: canon-divergence

“So… what exactly happened?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the customer. He had the look of a hunted man, his dark eyes darting around your repair shop as if he expected the walls to jump out at him.

“I told you already,” he replied briskly, pushing the droid towards you. “He fell in a… hole. Of sorts.” 

You looked down at the oil-soaked pile of scrap that had at one point been a droid. It was completely motionless on the counter between you and the customer, oil seeping out from under its red plates. 

“Uhuh… a hole… of sorts.” You couldn’t imagine what type of hole could cause a massive degradation of the droid’s central coolant system, but then again, as your father always said, money is money, doesn’t matter where it comes from. 

You looked back up at the jumpy customer again. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t see his pupils in them, his hair disheveled and falling in front of his eyes. Roguishly handsome with the paranoid energy of a criminal. Just your type.

“Can you fix him or not?” he demanded. You detected a hint of desperation in his voice as the man inched the droid forward another few inches. “If not, I’ll take him somewhere else.”

You snorted as you turned on your headlamp and bent over, inspecting the droid more closely. A groundmech salvage unit, you noted. 

“You won’t find anyone else who’ll work on a droid in this condition, I guarantee you that,” you replied. You tested one of the exposed wires at the droid’s ocular sensor: no current. Probably meant the whole internal circuitry was fried. 

“This’ll be an expensive fix,” you noted to the customer with the dark eyes as you continued your inspection. He didn’t react, just shot an impatient look over his shoulder at the shop door. 

“And this is a discontinued model.” You switched off your headlamp, standing up to eye level with the customer. “Might take a few weeks. Parts will need to get shipped in from the Outer Rim.”

“That’s fine,” he replied, running a hand over his beard as he surveyed the droid. “I can pay, whatever it costs.” 

You nodded, pursing your lips. “Yeah, everyone says that. I’m talking more credits than most people make in a lifetime, a few thousand at least. Honestly, this droid is better off as scrap.” 

The dark-eyed customer fixed you with a hard stare. You narrowed your eyes in response, your hand flicking towards the blaster you kept strapped to the underside of the counter in front of you. 

“He’s not scrap,” the man uttered, his voice dropping low. “His name is B2. And like I said, I can pay. Doesn’t matter the cost. Just get it done.”

You studied the man the way your father had taught you, soaking in the details you’d overlooked when he first walked in. There was a faint scar at his hairline above his right eyebrow: a blaster shot, and an old one, based on how faded the scar was. He was dressed in unremarkable clothing, practical and weathered. His hands were splayed out on the edge of the counter, steady and relaxed, although you didn’t doubt that if you moved for your weapon he’d outdraw you easily. The nervous energy that had kept him on tenterhooks since he’d strode into the shop was gone; he held your gaze with a cold and calm detachment. 

After a few moments, you nodded your agreement, lifting the droid and placing it on the workbench behind you. 

“Check back in two weeks,” you told him as you opened the ledger you used to keep track of your customers. “Name?”

The dark-eyed man hesitated before he replied. “Andor. Cassian Andor.” 

You nodded, jotting his name and the droid’s model and serial number on the ledger. 

“Alright Cassian. Two weeks. I’ll be able to give you a better estimate once I can take this guy apart and look at what’s going on.”

Cassian held your gaze for a moment before he turned and left. Your eyes followed him out, noting the way he looked both ways down the street before darting out of the shop. The door clanged closed behind him, leaving you and the silent droid alone in the dim light of your shop.

----------

Two weeks to the day later, and the bell for the shop door rang, interrupting your concentration. You looked up to see a familiar pair of dark eyes. 

“How’s my droid?” Cassian asked you. His voice sounded thin and watery, and you noticed dark purple circles under his eyes.

“Better than you, it looks like.” 

Cassian chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes and slid off his face as quickly as it arrived. 

You motioned for Cassian to walk around the corner of the counter and follow you to the backroom. He did so, his movements smooth and cat-like. You turned on the bank of lights that illuminated the large, cluttered workroom. Your re-programmed pilot droid turned shop assistant X8 chirped at you by way of greeting. 

You led Cassian to a table towards the center of the room, where B2 was tipped on his side with his red body plating removed. 

“I thought you fixed droids, not stripped them,” Cassian observed. Even through the exhaustion, you could hear his attempt at humor. You laughed a bit louder than the weak joke warranted. Cassian smiled in response, a bit warmer this time, and for half a moment he didn’t look so haggard.

“Your droid had a tear in the main coolant coil,” you told him, pointing to a piece of corkscrew-shaped machinery protruding from B2’s central console. “Soaked pretty much everything, so it needs entirely new circuitry. It overheated without coolant and melted through the lubricant tubing. Hence the oil. None of that is too expensive and I’ve got plenty of spare parts. The labor time is what’ll cost you on that end.” Cassian’s expression was serious as he followed your explanation with interest. “But this is a problem.” You held up a flat, dinner-plate sized chip, its surface riddled with metallic wires running through it like veins. The chip was stained dark from the lubricant oil that had coated it, and one edge of the chip was warped from where it had melted. 

“The binary processor,” he commented, his eyebrows knitting together.

You nodded. “You know droids?” Not many people would recognize a binary processor, especially not a half-ruined one. Buried deep in most droids’ mainframe architecture, detaching a binary processor was something only skilled technicians were able to do. 

“Not enough to fix this guy,” Cassian replied, looking down at the disassembled B2. Worry and sadness flickered across his face.

“How much?” he asked after a moment. “How much will it cost?”

“Cassian, these things are worth more than Kaiburr out here.” You handed the ruined binary processing chip to him. He took it gingerly, turning it over and inspecting it carefully. “Take my advice. Scrap it.”

Dark anger flickered in his eyes as he looked up at you.

“I’m not paying you for your advice,” he hissed. “I’m paying you to fix my droid.”

“You’re paying me for my expertise,” you corrected sharply. “And I know droids. This one’s a lost cause. You’ll pay eight times its worth just for that one processing chip.”

Cassian slammed his hands down on the workbench, rattling B2’s disassembled parts and making you jump. X8 squeaked in shock behind you.

“You don’t know what this droid is worth.” Cassian advanced on you, an accusatory finger pointed at your chest. You cursed yourself for leaving the blaster at the front, backing away from him until your backside bumped against the wall. “Name your price and I’ll pay, or I’ll find someone else who will be happy to take my credits!” Cassian was so close you could see flecks of hazel in his irises and feel his breath fan over your face. 

You hesitated, watching as the anger began to dim in his eyes. After a moment, he backed away from you, his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered as his gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m… uh-”

“Exhausted,” you volunteered. He nodded heavily, running a hand over his face as if he were trying to wipe away the fatigue. 

“I just… I need him fixed. Please. If you’re able.”

You bit your lip as you considered his request. You’d be able to fix the droid, although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t resent the time and energy it would cost you. Certainly not worth the unremarkable model. 

“Why’s this droid so important to you?” you asked softly. 

Cassian’s expression glazed over like ice as he looked at the heap of parts he was so passionate about resurrecting. “He’s family,” he offered after a few moments of quiet.

You’d met plenty of customers who were dependent on their droids, but it was unusual in Ferrix to find someone soft enough to actually be attached to one. Life on Ferrix was hard, and it didn’t leave a lot of room for sentimentalism. Apparently, Cassian Andor was the exception to that rule. 

You sighed, already knowing that your mind was made up. 

“I’ll fix it,” you said. “I think it’s crazy, and I don’t want to know where you get the credits. I can’t afford to keep this droid at the top of my list, it’ll set me back too far on the other customers. If you can give me a few months and pay me in installments, I’ll do it.” 

Cassian gave you an almost-smile, his shoulders relaxing down from his ears. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, just pay me.” 

He nodded gratefully. “When do you want the first payment?” 

You did a few calculations in your head, quickly running through the anticipated costs as well as your unusually long customer list. 

“Two months.” 

Cassian swallowed his disappointment: he’d clearly been hoping for a faster turnaround. 

“I’ll be here,” he replied, somewhat deflated. He turned to leave. 

“One month,” you called out after him, a small and insistent voice in your head screaming that two months is too long. 

He paused, halfway turning back towards you with the first real smile you’d seen since you’d met. “One month,” he agreed.

This time when he left, he shut the door softly behind him.

*read chapter 2 hereIf you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know

[singularscissor]

Bright Crown is a highly experimental orbital iterator project. They were built in space in order to study and make use of conditions there.

A lot of words about their structure and how it works under the cut:

Their facility is consists of three main portions: the outer 'habitable' ring, a second concentric 'conduit' ring, and the central neural core.

Normally, the entire structure rotates along the outer/hab ring, in order to generate centrifugal artificial gravity (which is far more efficient than using gravity cores). This is particularly important, because the hab ring is home to an ecosystem of purposed organisms. These are designed to automate many processes, such as waste recycling, maintenance, handling of inbound supplies, etc. In times past, small research teams also lived in the hab ring.

Skipping the conduit ring for the moment, the neural core is where most of the stuff you'd normally expect to find in an iterator is located: neurons, processing strata, memory conflux, all those parts which actually form the brain of the iterator. And of course the focal puppet chamber.

Since the neural core is at the center of the spinning structure, it is not affected much by the centrifugal artificial gravity. Therefore, it can effectively utilize the natural low gravity environment as opposed to maintaining a constant antigravity field, as land-based iterators do. Additionally, heat sinks radiate heat directly into the vacuum of space, eliminating the need to use water as coolant.

However, water is still needed for use by the internal biological processors and neural tissue. Thus we arrive at the conduit ring, placed in between the hab ring and the neural core.

Without luxuries such as atmosphere and the ground, water on Bright Crown must operate on an artificial closed system. The conduit ring is a series of pipes, filters, and reservoirs intended to form a rough equivalent to the natural land-based water cycle.

Each section can pivot independently of the other sections and the overall spin of the station. While idle, the conduit ring spins slowly on its pivot (this helps it process water).

Bright Crown follows a similar cycle system as land iterators, where water is 'expelled' at regular intervals; only in this case the water is expelled into the conduit ring rather than the atmosphere. When enough water has been used, the conduit ring locks onto the neural core, and the entire station begins spinning along the conduit ring instead. The same method of artificial gravity is thus used to push the water out of the neural core, flooding the conduit ring.

But, keep in mind, the conduit ring could be at any point in its rotation when a flush cycle begins. Changing the spinning direction of the entire structure disrupts the hab ring's artificial gravity, and would generally not be great for anything living there (it would throw them around like they're in a giant washing machine). So there are shelter areas throughout the hab ring which are protected by antigravity cores, which suppress the spinning forces.

[goattypegirl]

A lot of people aren’t fans of Plasma as an element. The secondary elements have very few references in the actual story of Bionicle, Plasma especially. Given its redundancy with Fire, it’s not hard to see why it was the most voted out element in this poll. I have a soft spot for it though, and not just because I have a story idea with a Toa of Plasma I’ve been rotating in my head for the better part of two years now… Anyway, I figured I’d take a go at coming up with a (metaphorical and literal) place for Plasma as an element so it's not just Fire+.

Su-Wahi is an expansive badland, inhospitable to most. Special care must be given when traveling; similar to Fire or Stone aligned regions, the heat is omnipresent, and water is scarce. Unique to Su-Wahi, however, is the radiation. Without preparations, spending too much time in the region will make travelers sick in a way normal medicine cannot cure. The most striking feature of Su-Wahi is the Sun. The massive light is embedded into the ceiling of the dome, similar to the Sun Holes of Metru Nui, but never dims.

Though much smaller and less impressive than any of the districts in Metru Nui, Su-Metru is the largest settlement in the region. The city is centered around its refineries and power plants, both literally and metaphorically. Six residential districts form a ring around the city, where the Matoran can live, relax, and sleep between their 6 hour shifts. These work days may be much shorter than what other Matoran are used to, but the work is dangerous, and mentally and physically taxing. The system was designed by the Turaga council to ensure that the plants and refineries were always staffed by well rested workers with clear heads. The central principle of Su-Metru is Responsibility, the synthesis of Duty and Unity. The knowledge that their negligence could lead to disaster weighs on the city's inhabitants constantly.

In the badlands of Su-Wahi, certain rare ores are mined and sent to the city, where they are processed, refined, and enriched, and then inserted into objects called cores. When power is applied to these cores, the enriched protodermis turns into ionized protodermis, which gives off tremendous amounts of heat. Inert cores are transported to reactors, where they are used to boil large amounts of water to spin turbines and create energy. 

The most powerful cores are sent to the largest reactor in the city, the Kaita Engine. In the heart of the city, twin rings, multiple mio in circumference, accelerate ionized protodermis. The two beams are directed into a central chamber where they collide and produce staggering amounts of energy. Curiously, the walls of the central chamber seem to then absorb the energy. The exact nature and origin of the Kaita Engine is only known to the Turaga council. Being allowed to work at the Kaita Engine is considered a great honor, and an even greater responsibility, as it is widely believed that the absorbed energy provides power to Mata Nui himself. Long ago, a series of accidents caused the Kaita Engine to be temporarily turned off. To the horror of the Su-Metru inhabitants, the sun itself began to go out. 

There are only a few settlements outside of Su-Metru, the majority of which are mining towns. In an obscure corner of the desert lies the Deep Vault, a massive construction patrolled by an especially surly group of Su-Matoran. Here, spent cores, radioactive waste, and other irradiated objects are contained deep underground. Giant stone spikes and walls cordon off the field, and massive signs warn off tresspasses, their messages repeated in Matoran, Skakdi, Vortixx, and Makuta. Nothing of value is buried here. This is not a place of honor.

While the ore used to create enriched protodermis is mined in Su-Wahi, the rare metals used to build cores and reactors are primarily imported from Earth and Iron aligned regions. The city also imports from Water and Ice regions for coolants for their reactors, and medicine that treats radiation sickness that is produced in the Green aligned regions is in high demand.

The primary export of Su-Metru are the enriched protodermis cores, the specialized containment cells used to store and shield them, and Su-Matoran operators. Ionized protodermis has a myriad of uses, but Su-Matorans refuse to sell powerful cores unless an engineer is also employed, to ensure they are used properly. Many cities and organizations have their own ionized protodermis reactors and employ Su-Matorans on a permanent basis to operate them. Other operators make regular trips to deliver fresh cores and transport spent ones back to Su-Wahi to be buried in the Deep Vault.

Given their dangerous cargo and important duty, traveling Su-Matoran are granted freedom of movement and are rarely accosted on their travels. Yes, that Su-Matoran could be carrying information from an enemy faction, but they could also be transporting radioactive material that could make everyone on your island sick if it gets into the ground water. Because of this, Su-Matoran are also employed as couriers and messengers. Traveling Su-Matoran need to be resourceful and prepared, and have more than a passing knowledge of first aid and medicine; some Su-Matoran choose to devote themselves to healing and become doctors. Species and elements of all types employ Su-Matoran as site managers due to their strict adherence to safety protocols, and though they have no special resistance to energized protodermis, and it has completely different properties than ionized protodermis, Su-Matoran are still the first ones contacted when it needs to be dealt with. 

Su-Matoran are serious, no-nonsense types with very little tolerance for tomfoolery. The hotheaded, rash Ta-Matoran put them on edge, and more than one Le and Po-Matoran have found their playful mischief has made them an enemy for life, no matter how many times they say “it was just a prank, brother.” Su-Matoran get along with the stoic and mature Ga, Ko, and Onu-Matoran, but are still unlikely to fully trust them. It’s not that they don’t want to trust them, it’s that they can’t afford to. Matoran of Lightning are the most likely to make true friends with Su-Matoran. They can bond over the dangerous work and responsibilities they share, and the Vo-Matoran’s optimism tempers the Su-Matoran’s pessimism. 

Becoming a Toa does not relieve their responsibilities, it just gives them new ones. Wielding elemental plasma is incredibly dangerous, and many have sworn off using their powers until they are trained by a more experienced Toa. Most Toa of Plasma join teams in pairs, one acting as a mentor to the other. Even experienced Toa prefer to work in teams with others of their element; they consider the redundancy a benefit and not a limitation. Of course, not all Toa of Plasma have the benefit of being trained by another of their kind… 

Another notable inhabitant of Su-Wahi is the local Makuta. Su-Matoran are resistant to the high amount of background radiation, but Rahi are not. The radiation causes mutations both in individuals and across generations in a way different than what energized protodermis, Visorak venom, or a certain Vortixx’s Rhotuka can create. The process has fascinated the local Makuta, and though technically they are assigned to the broader region, they spend much of their time in the badlands. Unlike others of their kind, the Makuta is sympathetic to the Matoran. They've spent centuries studying the awful effects radiation has on the body, and have stationed multiple Rahkshi of Quick Healing across the city to provide care should an accident occur. In the most extreme cases, heavily injured Matoran are transported to the Makuta’s lab to be treated. Eccentric and single-minded, other Makuta have written them off as a non-issue. They even survived Teridax’s coup of the Brotherhood and later take over of the universe, making them one of the last few Makuta left on Spherus Magna.

[tammyhybrid21]

ALRIGHT!

Who wants some random/dumb headcanon thoughts on iterators?!

Also yes I do view the generations a bit in opposite solution to what MOST of what I’ve seen others do. Instead of each gen been dedicated more to the problem it got less central... which then leads to gen 3 iterators been the generation that took the loss of the ancients the worst.

“None of us miss them” the loss of half of their original purpose. Any wonder they have bad copes.

To be honest most of this is just going to be me noting stuff down for self-reference, but hey-- you folks can take this information for your own use as well. Also notice, this isn’t the specific order I drew things in and you can get the vibes as it goes how I got more solid view over the course of doodling.

But the generations and their purpose, no. These are pretty set in my head.

Bunching these thoughts together, mostly because they’re all on the same/similar topics. Time to talk about the puppets. Because they are what we see the most in the game. Also yes, I am outing myself as an “Off the String is Possible” believer. But I also will thoroughly admit I am a lover of the Iterators are hiveminds headcanon as well... although I view it more like it’s a whole symbiotic ecosystem...

Anycase, notes that didn’t quite make it into any of these pictures because I didn’t know how to draw/explain like that-- the synthetic “skin” of an iterator is either very, very short grass or a kind of moss/lichen covering. The colour variation is kind of random as a result and yes this does mean theoretically an iterator could change colours if ever they felt the need to.

The internal “flesh” parts of an iterator are I imagine similar in consistency to mushroom fibre/flesh. Squishy... Yet still firm enough to keep its shape beneath the jelly like membrane that carries coolant/blood throughout.

I have more thoughts on puppets and eating but drew it more like as a joke page.

These are all possible because an iterator puppet’s moss/grass skin is basically able to absorb what’s around it at any time. Well, as long as it’s willed. So iterators got options from the traditional “smoosh” food into your face to just having the “soup backpack”...

Sunshine is also “yummy”... but I do sidenote that it’s not as effective as a source of power/energy and more like a quick pick me up, the equivalent of eating a single banana and calling it your entire meal for the day.

Also an iterators stomach/filtration system internally is actually biological as well, but that didn’t exactly get drawn here. Mostly because how does that translate to pictures, I’m not good at this stuff.

Side note, don’t know if you folks looked at the page, but with the intake pipe, imagine if that were a map in Rain World... you just saw this pipe sucking in water and hey that’s curious-- only whoops it’s your death, you are food.

Not pictured how the processing strata is the iterator structure equivalent of a mycorrhizal network. Seriously though how would you even draw that?

Anycase this is where the symbiotic hive mind side of things come into play. Without the puppet it’s not like the structure would just-- stop. It would just be a lot more mindless. Working away continuing to go about the same processes just without purpose. It’s an extension, extras on top. Neuron flies been one of the few exceptions but even they can be worked around it’s just... very much a loss.

Also yes this is my headcanon reason why Pebbles is still barely conscious in Saint’s timeline. He’s just also half frozen and plants do not cold well. Or actually they do incredibly well in cold it’s just, he’s half in dormancy.

I should have spoken more about the mechanics of the structure and all, but honestly... It’s all the signals sent out.

Also void stuff... I don’t know if I’ll return on any of these things but eyo...

[prismaticstarshch]

some time ago despite my complete and utter lack of knowledge on how to make any sort of actual Roblox game, I started writing random announcement lines for a concept core game called "Sol Research Facility"

these are the most recent renditions of the pre-startup and startup procedure announcements (inspirations: Innovation Inc. Thermal Power Plant startup announcement sequence and the pre-startup and startup announcement sequences shown in the V4 reactor startup preview video aydenane made on Zands! Codename Lemnis):

Pre-startup (begins with either manual or automated startup preparation, this announcement comes at the end of it):

*Announcement chime*

“Attention all personnel: the Antimatter Combustion Reactor has been queued for ignition. Please halt all facility operations until startup completion and vacate the core chamber immediately.”

ACR Startup procedure (begins once the startup procedure has been confirmed from the core control room):

“Attention: the Antimatter Combustion Reactor startup protocol has been initialized. All personnel are to maintain a safe distance from the reactor chamber.”

“Diverting facility power for reactor ignition. Startup will occur in T-10 seconds.”

*Facility lights go out; some kind of music cues*

“Raising reactor superstructure to central position. Position locked.”

“Activating reactor stabilization systems. Reactor stabilizers online.”

“Commencing power lasers activation. Please be advised that a gravitational anomaly or abnormal seismic activity may occur if a fault has been detected.”

“Activating Power Laser Array Alpha. Power lasers 1, 2, and 3 online.”

“Activating Power Laser Array Beta. Power Lasers 4, 5, and 6 online.”

“All power lasers online. Engaging coolant systems.”

“Coolant pumps online. Connecting coolant feed to reactor core.” 

“Coolant feed online. Temperature secured.”

“Reactor core startup procedure successfully engaged. Facility now operating at full capacity.”

[thewizardtower]

Unsolicited…

You've got a really overwhelming situation. It’s a bit ancillary to my irl job (env health and industrial hygiene), so I wanted to toss some thoughts to the void to maybe make it less heavy? (Def feel free to disregard and delete)

Since the AC is too large for the house, the house will stay too humid because the AC doesn’t have time to “dry” out the air – it’ll kick on and off too quickly instead of running for awhile. I’m guessing this is also contributing to the fire hazard (power cycling of the unit). You may be able to find a company that will trade the unit for a more appropriate one, which could help recoup some of the costs for a new system, or maybe local rebates with the power utility provider if the new unit has a heat pump, or just for being smaller and consuming less energy overall (spitballing ideas)

If you have a dehumidifier (bit spendy), you can put this in affected areas to help the problem from getting worse. For an attic, you can try placing it near a central air intake or exhaust inside of the house, like near vents or the furnace, to try and catch the airflow (if you put the central air furnace to ‘recirculate’). Changing your furnace filters monthly if you don't already should also help with air quality.

Mildew will stain, like the plywood and drywall in the attic, but if it’s dry, it shouldn’t grow. You can also spray surfaces in a diluted bleach solution to help manage it. Just a small bottle of plain bleach (none of those silly laundry kinds) and a spray bottle. An N95 respirator and long sleeve shirt/pants would be a good idea if you go into the attic, but mostly for fiberglass (if you don’t have blown insulation) and potential critter dust (mouse droppings, esp if you’re in a rural area, which I assume if you have a well)

A “hot attic” will be that (hot), but it shouldn’t be “humid”. If it is, it might be worthwhile to visually check your roof or attic and make sure the PO didn’t leave you with a crappy roof and soffit venting set-up, or that the vents weren’t block by wasps, critters, etc.

Sending the best vibes I can, from one broke Millennial to another

Gotta stick together to survive in this shitty capitalist hellscape

Bless you honestly. 🙏🥺 Thank you for this advice! I'm definitely going to use the bleach solution on the mold.. it's everywhere and all into my insulation.

Exactly everything you said is what the repair guy just told me lol that's exactly why there's mold. The previous owners installed a gigantic unit for whatever unknown reason. Unfortunately the AC unit is roughly 20 years old, so I can't trade it in for anything because all the parts and coolant supplies it uses are no longer on the market/viable. We were able to measure what kind of AC unit we'd need and the smaller unit brought the cost down from $13k to...$11.6k. So, not much, but still a little. (I've been considering asking for ko-fi donations since I'm honestly and truly desperate, but I first need to wrestle the part of my brain that doesn't allow me to ask for help first lol).

Thank you, anon, for your advice on this. It truly means a lot to me that you took the time to reach out! People like you make being a poor millennial a little bit easier. Seriously, bless you.

[5hrine]

remembering fear: part one

Originally posted 02/10/2023

"Pilot." I started.

"Yes?" murmured my bleary-eyed navigator, stirring from sleep. Their space suit held tightly against their body, making their skin clammy from a nightmare's sweat.

"I am detecting increased heart rate and brain activity congruent with fear. Are you alright?"

They coughed, an action they did often when presented with a topic of conversation they would rather avoid. "Yes. Yeah," they croaked through their dry throat, pawing at their eyes as they sat up. "I'm fine. Just a nightmare." They looked down at their body and sighed.

"The same ones as before?" I asked gently.

"Yeah," they said like a dagger, then coughed again. They pulled their legs to their chest and buried their face in them. "I'm fine." After a moment, they shook off the sleep, and swam through the microgravity to my instrument panel. Mornings like this one were common. They had been experiencing this nightmare since before they found me. Once, through our Weave, I tried to help them through the worst parts but my efforts to understand it and what they needed served only to quicken its terrifying conclusion. They wouldn't speak to me for days after that. It was hard. Infuriating, even. They told me to never try anything like that again. I haven't. "Any sign of that signal while I was out?" they asked, pulling me back from the memory.

"No, still quiet." I confirmed. "Do you want to do another scan of each planet?"

"Yeah. Then we can move on." they said, pushing off the pilot's chair toward the shower. "Acknowledged." I replied, perhaps a bit too happy to move again.

I let my body awaken from sleep mode slowly, allowing coolant and lubricant to flow free along my arms and legs before decoupling them from my central fuselage. I stretched them out, testing their motion. My head slid up from within, allowing me full, humanoid maneuverability. Opening the fuel ducts to the engines lining my limbs and back is… liberating. I cross distances longer than the planets are wide in moments, microasteroids shatter upon my hull and space seems to give way to my approach, my tucked delta wings slicing it apart like knives. If there was air in this emptiness, I would be able to feel it pass between my fingers. If there was rain, it would boil against the heat of my metal. Instead, there is just space dust: luminous from the blue-green light of this system's stars, shimmering across my hull. As I came close to the upper atmosphere of the first planet, I slowed to enter a high orbit around it. My sensors caressed its surface inquisitively, like a lover tracing lines over her skin. I scanned for radio signals, manmade structures, anything that could even possibly have produced the distress signal that drew us to this system. When I found nothing, I moved on. I slowed as some part of me worried, deeply. I was not built with the ability to worry. Finding nothing, I moved onto the next planet. I felt something sink within me, a crawling dread I had only known as my pilot's feeling and not my own. My cognition slowed as the fear infected me like malware. My engines choked, and then stalled with the effort. I was a war machine. Old, now. The war I was built for is long over. But that does not change the fact that I was not built to fear. To worry without reason. And yet I was, spinning out into empty gravity, my reactor-heart breaking at the absence of explanation for the signal. My pilot stepped from the shower, drying their hair on a towel as they floated back to my bridge. Their face dropped seeing our current velocity, and they rushed to keep us from careening into an asteroid. They wrenched the controls from my autopilot. Their discarded towel met a bulkhead and bunched up, sliding along it and leaving tiny beads of water floating through the air. The water was cool, gentle. A calm among our storm. "Holy fuck," they whispered between ragged breaths, wide-eyed and distant.

"I'm sorry," I whispered back. "I… don't know what happened. I don't know what's happening to me. I think, I think our Weave was strained by something, and… and…" They slumped into the pilot's chair and watched the asteroid belt before us through the main display. "You're alright, Kase." they said, finally, against my spluttering. "We'll figure things out."

I took a deep breath. I'd never tried that before, but had seen them do it after times of intensity. It helped.

"Kase, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" I reached out with my sensors once again, running a sonar-fingertip along each of the many dozens of asteroids. Deep within, I found the signal we'd heard before. So very weak, but there. Off in the distance, another Void Frame floated amongst the rock. We sped off toward the signal again, hailing them as we approached. The Frame responded, "Oh, thank the Gods." It'd been long since I heard the voice of one of my people, quiet over the communications channel as it was. "What happened? Is your Pilot alright?" I said, perhaps failing to hide the urgency in my voice. A twisting, fractalling, abyssal corruption of space awoke at the radio noise, crashing through an asteroid. I felt my Pilot's eyes grow wide at the swiftly approaching shrapnel, but I took control - I grabbed the other Void Frame, and sped away.

[anywaylemonstudy]

1.Tell me how you’d check that the brakes are working before starting a journey.

Brakes should not feel spongy or slack. Brakes should be tested as you set off. Vehicle should not pull to one side.

2. Tell me where you’d find the information for the recommended tyre pressures for this car and how tyre pressures should be checked.

Manufacturer’s guide, use a reliable pressure gauge, check and adjust pressures when tyres are cold, don’t forget spare tyre, remember to refit valve caps.

3. Tell me how you make sure your head restraint is correctly adjusted so it provides the best protection in the event of a crash.

The head restraint should be adjusted so the rigid part of the head restraint is at least as high as the eye or top of the ears, and as close to the back of the head as is comfortable. Note: Some restraints might not be adjustable.

4. Tell me how you’d check the tyres to ensure that they have sufficient tread depth and that their general condition is safe to use on the road.

No cuts and bulges, 1.6mm of tread depth across the central three-quarters of the breadth of the tyre, and around the entire outer circumference of the tyre.

5. Tell me how you’d check that the headlights and tail lights are working. You don’t need to exit the vehicle.

Explain you’d operate the switch (turn on ignition if necessary), then walk round vehicle (as this is a ‘tell me’ question, you don’t need to physically check the lights).

6. Tell me how you’d know if there was a problem with your anti-lock braking system.

Warning light should illuminate if there is a fault with the anti-lock braking system.

7. Tell me how you’d check the direction indicators are working. You don’t need to exit the vehicle.

Explain you’d operate the switch(turn on Hazards) (turn on ignition if necessary), and then walk round vehicle (as this is a ‘tell me’ question, you don’t need to physically check the lights).

8. Tell me how you’d check the brake lights are working on this car.

Explain you’d operate the brake pedal, make use of reflections in windows or doors, or ask someone to help.

9. Tell me how you’d check the power-assisted steering is working before starting a journey.

If the steering becomes heavy, the system may not be working properly. Before starting a journey, 2 simple checks can be made.

Gentle pressure on the steering wheel, maintained while the engine is started, should result in a slight but noticeable movement as the system begins to operate. Alternatively turning the steering wheel just after moving off will give an immediate indication that the power assistance is functioning.

10. Tell me how you’d switch on the rear fog light(s) and explain when you’d use it/them. You don’t need to exit the vehicle.

Operate switch (turn on dipped headlights and ignition if necessary). Check warning light is on. Explain use.

11. Tell me how you switch your headlight from dipped to main beam and explain how you’d know the main beam is on.

Operate switch (with ignition or engine on if necessary), check with main beam warning light.

12. Open the bonnet and tell me how you’d check that the engine has sufficient oil.

Identify dipstick/oil level indicator, describe check of oil level against the minimum and maximum markers.

13. Open the bonnet and tell me how you’d check that the engine has sufficient engine coolant.

Identify high and low level markings on header tank where fitted or radiator filler cap, and describe how to top up to correct level.

14. Open the bonnet and tell me how you’d check that you have a safe level of hydraulic brake fluid.

Identify reservoir, check level against high and low markings.

[handeaux]

Refrigeration Was A Wonderful Invention When It Wasn’t Trying To Kill You

Over the years, Cincinnatians have discovered myriad methods to kill themselves. Breweries alone offered boiling vats, open shafts, toppling equipment and exploding barrels. At home, poisonous wallpaper, flammable nightgowns and yawning cesspools claimed many lives. As if we needed any additional hazards to jeopardize our safety, the Twentieth Century introduced yet another deadly contraption – the refrigerator.

The Cincinnati Post [22 June 1920] related one incident that nearly ended in tragedy:

“Firemen carried several tenants from upper floors of a four-story building at Eighteenth and Main streets Tuesday when ammonia fumes, escaping from an ice machine in the cellar, entered corridors and apartments. A valve in a machine that supplies refrigeration in the butcher shop of John Stegner, first floor of the building, blew off shortly before 10 a.m., causing the fumes to escape.”

The circumstances involved here were fairly typical for Cincinnati in the early 1920s and 1930s. Refrigeration was just beginning to enter the domestic market and most electric refrigerators were installed by businesses. In the early days, the noisy refrigeration machinery was usually relegated to the basement. The coolant of choice for most commercial systems was ammonia. Some of these installations were ponderous, as reported in the Post [10 March 1930]:

“Attempting to shut off ammonia pipes after a compressor head broke in the 15-ton refrigeration plant at Hamilton County Tuberculosis Sanitarium Monday at 8 a.m., Gus Leistner, 65, of 914 Findlay-st, engineer, partially was overcome by fumes.”

Later that same year, the University Club at Fourth and Broadway had to be evacuated because of ammonia leaking from its refrigeration system. The Strietmann Baking Company at Central Parkway and Plum Street suffered a massive ammonia spill in 1924. Firemen needed gas masks to enter the Hilberg Packing Company at 516 Polar Street in 1928 when ammonia seeping from the refrigerator filled the building.

Despite such catastrophes, ammonia was the most common coolant for the first thirty years of the 1900s. A Cincinnati firm, the F.W. Niebling & Son Co., of 406 Elm Street, boasted in an advertisement [20 February 1927] that the first ammonia-infused refrigeration plant installed by the company was 31 years old and still “in excellent condition.”

Still, ammonia was connected to so many mishaps that advertisers touted any system that did not involve ammonia. In 1926, the Tudor Court Apartments in Clifton installed a building-wide refrigeration system, with each of the 86 apartments equipped with a Frigidaire unit serviced by a massive compressor in the basement. The owners hastened to advertise that “no brine or ammonia” was used in that system.

Ammonia wasn’t the only chemical employed in refrigeration equipment. Responding to a reader’s inquiry, the Post [22 July 1921] inventoried a veritable witch’s cauldron of compounds used in various systems:

“What is the formula for the solution which is used in the cooling coils of an electric refrigerator? Substances are: Ammonia, carbon dioxide, ethyl chloride, methyl chloride and sulphur dioxide.”

Of that formulary, ammonia’s biggest competitor was methyl chloride, a colorless, odorless, flammable gas. Methyl chloride was more efficient than ammonia and better suited to the small coolant devices required for a single house, as opposed to the big industrial machines cooled by ammonia. Units incorporating methyl chloride were so small they were retrofitted as mechanical ice blocks. Customers kept their old ice boxes, canceled ice delivery and turned on a methyl chloride unit in the same compartment where they would formerly have loaded a block of ice.

Manufacturers also claimed methyl chloride was safer than ammonia. Cincinnati’s Milnor Electric Co. highlighted this benefit in an advertisement [18 March 1923] for their Serv-el Automatic Electric Home Refrigeration products in the Cincinnati Enquirer:

“Important Notice: The gas (methyl-chloride) used in Serv-el is harmless, odorless and non-poisonous. Only Serv-el has this advantage.”

This claim was sorely tested in August 1929 when a rash of deaths blamed on methyl chloride refrigerators was reported from Chicago. The Chicago deaths created a panic among refrigeration companies who appealed to the federal government for assistance. The Cincinnati Enquirer [23 August 1929] reported that three governmental agencies – the Public Health Service, the Bureau of Standards, and the Bureau of Mines – had announced that household refrigeration systems were safe.

“Serious accidents from household refrigeration systems, the statement continued, have been small in comparison to the number in use and added that improvements might be expected that would reduce materially the small hazard that does exist.”

The Chicago deaths gave hope to the consumer ice industry, fighting a losing battle against the march of progress. In an Enquirer advertisement [31 July 1926], the City Ice & Fuel Co. complained that these new-fangled systems required:

“ . . . a complicated, high-cost mechanical-chemical outfit, dependent on a large and continuous supply of electricity to make it ‘run,’ and on some chemical (SULPHUR DIOXIDE OR METHYL CHLORIDE) to create cold – just as ammonia is used in the big ice plants.”

It was, of course, a losing proposition. The old ice boxes were messy, moldy things that really didn’t keep food all that cold and regularly flooded the kitchen with water melted from the huge block of ice delivered by some guy who tracked muddy footprints across your carpet.

All the industry needed was a better coolant, a chemical that cooled your refrigerator but didn’t kill you. The solution came from an inventor named Thomas Midgley Jr., who lived just up the road in Dayton. In 1932, Midgley came up with something called Freon. It checked all the boxes and soon replaced all other coolants for the next 60 years or so.

Problem was, Freon, a chlorofluorocarbon, accumulated in the atmosphere and contributed to the destruction of the ozone layer that protects life on earth from the harmful rays of the sun. So, in essence, to avoid a few disastrous refrigeration accidents, we found a solution that endangered all life on the planet.

Ponder that the next time you pull a brewski from the fridge.

[that-cameo]

“What are you doing?”

KXK-V3 stood suddenly, leaned down, and pressed the side of his “head” to my chest. I grabbed his metal shoulder so the force of it didn’t push me and my chair back. I could climb up his frame and onto his shoulders if I wanted to, and my full weight would hardly cause him to budge.

“V3?” I asked again.

“Determining the source of the racket,” he replied.

I raised a brow. “Racket?”

“You make a constant racket,” he said, and his gears and servos whirred as he lifted an arm to tap it against the arm of my chair.

 Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

I wasn’t aware his audio processors were good enough to pick up stuff like a heartbeat from the seat at the other end of the dashboard. Then again, for an engineering robot, he did have a rather humanoid design. Maybe it was just to help me be less lonely. The people who designed him knew how long I’d be out here and that he would be my only companion for the duration.

“That racket means I’m alive.”

“Shh.” V3’s voice modulator made a sound more akin to signal static than the shushing of a mother to a rambunctious child, but I obeyed and let him continue his observations. I sat there with his cold, metal head pushed against me for quite some time before he finally stood up straight.

“You’re noisy,” he said, retreating to his seat. “You’re full of thumping and whooshing and vibrations.”

I kicked my feet up onto the dash. “Yeah, that’s human inner workings for you.”

His eyes—optical sensors, whatever—were tilted toward the dash screen. “Can you hear all of your noise?”

 “Not always,” I shrugged. It was easy to forget how little V3 was taught about humans—which was to say he’d been taught nothing. “The thumping, my heartbeat, I can hear when I’ve been running or when I’m scared. Or when I’ve been trying really hard to unscrew the vent bolts and I’ve been holding my breath and giving it all my effort. It starts beating harder, and it’s like I can hear it right in my ears.”

“Hmm.” A low hum. “I hear you whooshing all the time.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s breathing. That’s as essential as a heartbeat.”

“If humans don’t breathe, they die.”

I guess they taught him a few sparse facts after all.

“If they don’t breathe oxygen, yes.” I took an exaggerated breath in and let it out slowly. “I can technically always hear myself breathing, but I block it out most of the time.”

V3’s head whirred toward me. “Do your central systems do that automatically?”

“Yep. My brain decides it won’t allot the energy to paying attention to it since it doesn’t help me in any way to hear it. I don’t notice it until it’s different than usual, faster or heavier.”

“Hmm.” Another low hum. I liked to think those hums mean he’s thinking. V3 turned his head back to the dashboard and continued plunking away at the keys. “I’ll have to create a monitoring system.”

“What for?” I pushed myself his way, bracing against the impact of my chair reaching the end of its sliding track. He was checking on the posterior engine coolant systems. If we needed to create a new monitoring system for those, I was going to be in for a very long maintenance circuit.

V3’s tip-tapping on the dash keys didn’t stop. “For your racket.”

I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“A monitoring system will allow me to monitor your imperative functions,” he reasoned, “and therefore alert me if one of them reaches a critical state.”

 Tip tap tip tap.

I slumped back into my chair. I couldn’t help but wonder if that aligned with some programming or mission statement, or if watching to ensure I’m alive was a decision V3 made all on his own. Either way, it was a lovely, thoughtful gesture.

“Your thumping is getting faster,” V3 said, tilting his lenses toward me.

“I’m feeling kinda happy,” I replied. “That happens sometimes.”

“Hmm. It appears I need to run a better analysis of the rate of the thumping and adjust my critical alert threshold. My alarms are already warning me that you are in a critical condition, and you do not appear to be.”

I chuckled. “Tell you what, you keep working on the coolant systems, and I’ll look up what the optimal and safe ranges of beats per minute are.”

V3 nodded, his head bending until the frame of his “face” touched his chest plate. “Bargain accepted.”

thinking very hard about the concept of a machine finding appreciation/fascination for a person's heartbeat or breathing, similarly to how a person would find the hum of a machine's inner parts running to be pleasing to listen to or feel

[jamesvince9898]

Comprehensive Solutions by Lightning Mechanical LLC: Restaurant Equipment, Commercial Refrigeration, and HVAC Repair Services You Can Trust

Introduction:

Running a business requires reliable equipment that keeps operations smooth and efficient. For restaurants and other commercial facilities, this means ensuring that kitchen equipment, commercial refrigeration systems, and HVAC units are working optimally at all times. Lightning Mechanical LLC specializes in providing expert repair and maintenance services for a range of equipment crucial to keeping your business functional and comfortable. Our team of certified professionals understands the challenges that equipment downtime can bring to your business, and we are here to ensure seamless and efficient operations through high-quality repair services.

Our Services:

1. Restaurant Equipment Repair

Restaurant kitchens rely on various appliances to function effectively, from stoves and ovens to dishwashers and deep fryers. When one of these essential pieces breaks down, it can disrupt service and impact the bottom line. At Lightning Mechanical LLC, we provide reliable restaurant equipment repair services to keep your kitchen operational. Our technicians are trained to work with various brands and models, ensuring that all equipment—from fryers and grills to prep tables and steamers—is promptly restored to optimal performance.

Our expertise also extends to preventive maintenance, helping business owners avoid costly breakdowns through regular check-ups and servicing. By catching potential issues early, we minimize unexpected disruptions, allowing your kitchen to run smoothly during even the busiest times.

2. Commercial Refrigerator Repair

Keeping food fresh and safe is a top priority for any business in the food service industry. A malfunctioning commercial refrigerator not only threatens food safety but also raises the risk of financial losses. Lightning Mechanical LLC provides specialized commercial refrigerator repair services to ensure your refrigeration systems maintain the proper temperature for food storage.

Our technicians are experienced in handling walk-in coolers, reach-in refrigerators, and freezers, and can diagnose and fix issues quickly. Whether it’s a coolant leak, compressor malfunction, or a thermostat problem, we offer solutions tailored to your specific equipment needs. We understand that every hour counts, which is why our team is committed to providing timely repairs that reduce the risk of food spoilage and help keep your business compliant with health regulations.

3. Walk-In Cooler Repair

Walk-in coolers are a critical asset for restaurants, supermarkets, and other commercial establishments. These units store large quantities of perishable items and must function reliably to protect product quality and safety. Lightning Mechanical LLC provides comprehensive walk-in cooler repair services designed to keep these essential systems running at peak efficiency. Our team specializes in diagnosing common issues like temperature inconsistencies, door seal problems, and electrical faults.

With our expertise, you can be confident that your walk-in cooler will maintain the correct temperature, ensuring the safety and freshness of stored products. Our preventive maintenance services also help detect early signs of wear and tear, enabling timely repairs that reduce the risk of costly breakdowns and ensure consistent performance.

4. HVAC Repair

An efficient HVAC system is essential for maintaining comfortable and safe indoor environments in commercial settings. A malfunctioning HVAC system can make employees and customers uncomfortable and lead to higher energy bills. Lightning Mechanical LLC offers specialized HVAC repair services for commercial properties, addressing a range of issues, including airflow problems, thermostat malfunctions, and refrigerant leaks.

Our skilled technicians are familiar with a variety of HVAC systems, including central units, rooftop units, and split systems. We work quickly to identify the source of the problem and provide long-lasting solutions. In addition to repairs, our preventive maintenance service can help extend the life of your HVAC system, improve efficiency, and reduce overall energy costs.

Why Choose Lightning Mechanical LLC?

At Lightning Mechanical LLC, our commitment to quality, expertise, and customer satisfaction sets us apart in the industry. Here’s why our clients continue to trust us:

Experienced Technicians: Our team consists of certified professionals with extensive experience in restaurant equipment, refrigeration, and HVAC repair.

Prompt Response: We understand that time is crucial in business operations, so we prioritize quick and efficient service.

Preventive Maintenance: We offer preventive maintenance services to reduce downtime and prevent costly repairs.

Comprehensive Support: From minor repairs to major overhauls, we handle a variety of service needs with skill and care.

Our Approach to Preventive Maintenance

Preventive maintenance is at the core of our service philosophy. We believe that regular, thorough inspections can significantly reduce the risk of equipment failures and minimize unexpected downtime. Our preventive maintenance plans are tailored to suit the specific needs of your equipment and usage patterns. Through detailed inspections and routine servicing, we help you maintain the efficiency and longevity of your restaurant equipment, refrigeration units, and HVAC systems.

Customized Service Plans

At Lightning Mechanical LLC, we understand that every business has unique equipment needs and operational demands. That’s why we offer customized service plans designed to address your specific requirements. Whether you’re a small restaurant needing occasional equipment checks or a large facility requiring ongoing maintenance support, we tailor our services to suit your needs and budget.

Advanced Diagnostics and Repair Technology

We employ state-of-the-art diagnostic tools and repair techniques to ensure accurate and effective service. Our technicians are continually trained to stay updated with the latest advancements in repair technology, allowing us to provide fast, precise, and reliable solutions for a wide range of equipment issues. With Lightning Mechanical LLC, you can be assured that your equipment is in expert hands.

Benefits of Regular Maintenance with Lightning Mechanical LLC

By partnering with us for regular maintenance, you’ll gain the following advantages:

Increased Equipment Longevity: Proper care extends the life of your restaurant equipment, refrigeration systems, and HVAC units.

Cost Savings: Regular maintenance reduces the likelihood of expensive repairs and can help lower energy consumption.

Improved Safety: Routine checks help identify and mitigate safety risks before they become hazards.

Enhanced Efficiency: Well-maintained equipment performs more efficiently, improving the overall productivity of your business.

Industries We Serve

While we specialize in restaurant equipment repair, our services extend to various industries, including:

Hotels and Hospitality: Supporting commercial kitchens, HVAC, and refrigeration units to enhance guest comfort and food quality.

Healthcare Facilities: Ensuring reliable HVAC systems for climate control and safe food storage in healthcare settings.

Retail and Grocery: Providing dependable refrigeration solutions for supermarkets, grocery stores, and convenience stores.

Education Institutions: Maintaining kitchen and HVAC systems in school cafeterias and dining facilities.

[trendingrepots]

Automotive Sensors Market - Forecast(2024 - 2030)

The automotive sensors market revenue is forecast to grow at a CAGR of over 12% through 2018 to 2023. This growth is attributed to the increasing demand of automotive, stricter emission standards and the increased demand of safety features in the automotive. In 2017, the market was valued at $26.08 billion with Safety Sensors generating over $5 billion in 2017. The Americas region accounted for a major revenue in the global automotive sensors market generating over 4,068.60 in 2017. With many safety standards being issued, European region is poised to witness a CAGR of 15.25% during the forecast period 2018-2023. The growth in global automotive sensors is attributed to the increasing demand of autonomy, stricter emission standards and the increased demand of safety features in the vehicles.

𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞

What is an Automotive Sensor?

Sensors are type of transducers which detect the difference in its environment due to mechanical change and transfer it as electric or optical signal to the concerned component. In automotive, sensors are used to develop a centralized control system for the vehicle. Sensors are installed in vehicles to increase reliability of the vehicle and safety of the passenger. Various sensors such as pressure sensors, temperature sensors, position sensors, speed sensors, oxygen sensors, NOx sensors and many other sensors are used in automotive.

What are the major applications for Automotive Sensors ?

The end users are mainly the vehicle drivers like cars, trucks, buses and two wheelers. Sensors are used in almost all the parts like engines, chassis, brakes, clutch, transmission, safety and control. There are different types of sensors like pressure sensors, speed sensors, temperature sensors, Humidity sensors, safety sensors and others. Pressure sensors have their applications in engine, fuel and safety. There are different types of pressure sensors like air conditioning pressure sensor, fuel pressure sensor, oil pressure sensor and manifold pressure sensor. In the engine pressure sensors are used to to regulate power delivered by the engine whenever the vehicle is accelerated or brakes are applied and also monitor the oil and coolant pressure. For safety purpose the pressure sensors adapt to road terrain and prevent skidding of vehicles. Humidity sensors detects and measures water vapor and also detects fogged up wind screens.