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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

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HP ends its customers' lives

HP never stopped innovating. From its origins in the 1930s as a leading electronics manufacturer to its role in the birth of PCs and performance servers, it has always demonstrated incredible ingenuity.

Today, that ingenuity is deployed in service of evil ink-based fuckery.

The printer-ink business model has always been a form of commercial sadism in which you are expected to put giant manufacturers' interests ahead of your own with no expectation of any sort of reciprocity.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

After all, when your profits depend on charging more for ink than vintage Veuve-Clicquot, you need to get up to some serious shenanigans to get your customers to drain their bank accounts to fill their printers.

By contemporary standards, the opening hostilities in the ink-wars look positively quaint:

Manufacturing special half-full cartridges to ship with new printers so their owners have to buy a new set just days after the open the box

Requiring frequent "calibration" printouts that use vast amounts of ink

Gimmicking cartridges' sensors to declare them "empty" even when there's still ink in them

Thing is, all of this just makes official printer ink less desirable and fuels demand for third party ink.

For this to work, you need to win a two-front war: one on your customers and the other on your competitors. HP is fighting both.

First they pioneered the use of DRM to detect and prevent third-party ink.

Then when ink makers started making their own chips, or harvesting chips out of discarded cartridges to use in news ones, HP got US customs to seize the product, calling it a patent infringement.

But the real ugliness started in March 2016, when HP pushed out a fake "security update" for inkjet printers. Owners who ran the update saw nothing, just a software version number that went up by one.

What they didn't know was that they've been given an asymptomatic infection - a malicious update that only kicked in five months later, after everyone had had a good long time to update. That update's real purpose was to detect and reject third party ink.

It went off right after school started, stranding cash-strapped parents with a year's worth of ink for their kids' school projects. People were outraged. HP issued a nonpology.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2016/09/what-hp-must-do-make-amends-its-self-destructing-printers

(One year later, they did it again)

https://gizmodo.com/one-year-after-bricking-third-party-ink-with-update-hp-1809073739

Every time HP got caught doing something evil, they had the same excuse: "that's the deal we offered and you accepted it."

For example, if the box says "Works best with HP ink," then you are "agreeing" that it might not work with other ink. Nevermind that the only reason your printer doesn't work with other ink is that HP tricked you into downgrading it so that the ink stopped working.

This is the grifter's all-purpose excuse: "If you didn't want me to rip you off, then why did you click 'I agree'?"

HP was just getting started, though. In the ideal world, you wouldn't even own your printer ink, you'd just RENT it.

Enter HP Instant Ink.

https://support.hp.com/us-en/document/c03760650

This is "ink as a service." You pre-commit to printing a certain number of pages/month and they mail you ink, which they own. You're not buying the ink, you're buying the right to use it.

If you don't print your quota in a month, some of the pages roll over, but they don't let you bank more than a few months' worth - and to keep those pages, you have to keep paying for your sub. Meanwhile, if you blow through your limit, you get charged for every page.

This is a weird and unpalatable idea, so to sell it, HP rolled out a pay-one-price "Free Ink for Life" plan that gave you 15 pages every month for as long as you owned your printer.

But this is HP we're talking about, so words have no meaning. Last month, HP notified its "free ink for life" customers that their life had ended, and they were being moved to a new afterlife where they had to pay $0.99/month, forever, or else.

This Darth Vader "Pray I don't alter it further" shit is the most on-brand HP thing ever

Worse still are the many imitators HP inspires - all those companies that have decided that it's your solemn duty to arrange your affairs to suit their shareholders' needs.

The right-to-repair criminals like Apple, John Deere and Medtronic. Tesla and GM, Juicero and Keurig - companies that are not merely content with waging war on customers, but also on competitors who offer those customers shelter.

Since the turn of this century, HP has been shedding its productive business units that make useful products, and focusing its legal and engineering departments on innovations in shitty dystopian hack-futurism.

#pluralistic

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palmett-hoes · 4 years ago

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What do you think are the hobbies/interests or jobs that Andrew finds fulfilling in the future where he doesn’t go pro?

maybe not long term, but for a couple years and on-and-off after that i can see him doing non-profit work with renee. working to help build up infrastructure and health services in low-income areas. setting up like hospitals and schools and drinking water. disaster relief and rebuilding efforts. i think it would be a good way for him to see the world in a way that both he can accept because it fits his view of the world as “shitty and unfair” (he’s not a big tourism fan) while also pushing him to combat nihilism by working with people to better their lives

generally he goes for constructive things. he’s an incredibly smart and also very tactile person so he likes puzzles of all kinds, but because he didn’t have a lot of access to toys growing up he sort of had to find his own versions because no one was buying him LEGO sets and puzzle books

instead he spent a lot of time as a kid wandering around the streets of Oakland and trash picking off the curbs and alleys. he would find broken chairs or busted electronics or stuff like that and depending on his mood would either smash them for kicks or take them to a hiding place to pull apart piece by piece and then see if he could reassemble or make something new. eventually he started learning to repair things rather than just futz with the parts.

he likes the troubleshooting bc it’s an organic puzzle, not something with a pre-set solution so it’s a genuine challenge and mystery each time he opens up something broken

he’s also obviously a Car Dude which follows the same principals, so i genuinely think he’d enjoy being a mechanic, especially if he went into like,, more difficult or restoration work rather than just average commercial work. i can also see him wanting to be a jack of all trades so things never get too repetitive for him, so just going into general Constructive and Restoration work, learning various skills of construction, carpentry, electrics, mechanics, engines, welding, etc. house flipping? he can put his fingers in multiple pots, maybe work as an independent contractor and build relationships with various different companies and work-for-hire. if he learns specialty skills he can take commissions

he loves playing cards, especially poker, and he’s great at it. his memory allows him to count cards, he has a completely blank face, he’s great at reading ppl, and he loves to make them squirm. basically a psychological battle. he frequents some card halls and casinos and has some ppl he sees semi-regularly. pool, too. gotta use all those years of exy rebound training for something. he takes neil to the pool halls with him and they clean out together

he legitimately likes martial arts. he likes the way it makes him feel in control. maybe it’s a little harder to find ppl willing to just bare-knuckle beat the snot out of each other after renee but he finds himself in various different gyms over the years and forms his own connections of different sparring partners and teachers over the years. mma type stuff. bjj and krav maga are his obvious favorites but he spends time learning the philosophies behind various other things like boxing and karate. as he mellows with age he even finds himself willing to entertain a little bit of aikido

he likes music, the louder and angrier the better. he goes to concerts semi-regularly, mostly small venues and underground places, not really big stadium-type shows. he’s always trying to avoid monotony so the unpredictability of live music and crowds appeals to him

on a quieter note he likes to just,, wander, especially with neil. both of their neurotic tendencies never really disappear completely but the danger aspect of it fades away over time. they both like to know the lay of the land around them, the trends and the changes, so they just walk around the city together, construct their own ever-growing mental map. note the restaurants they might like to try, the shops that sell special things, new activities they might want to try, local events that come through. they aren’t particularly neighborly but they like to people watch and puzzle through people’s lives together because they’re fucking nosey

#txt #andrew minyard #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous #andreil

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headlesssamurai · 6 years ago

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review blade runner 2049 please

[Yo. @godzillaapproved asked me about this too, as did, like twenty other anons at this point, I meant to post this publicly but accidentally replied privately to the epic city-stomper. Here’s what I wrote.]

Yo, my apologies for taking a dog’s age to properly reply to this one. Between working a new job and teaching kids D&D, my schedule… actually hasn’t been that full at all, in fact being busy has got nothing at all to do with what took me so long. I’m just a lazy bastard, I reckon.

Nah, I’m playing. It’s just this write-up’s a tough one. In trying to properly discuss a movie like this, the worst obstacle I’m faced with is offering worthwhile thoughts which can rise above the more quotidian comparisons of old and new, and avoids falling to the level of all those acerbic neanderthals shouting at each other about reboots and franchise fatigue. Regardless of your opinion on it as a motion picture, Blade Runner 2049 is a film worthy of attentive consideration, approving or disapproving.

So, yeh, like, half the time I tried to write it up my thoughts veered wildly off into existentially perverse nonsense most people couldn’t follow if they were jacked up on a cocktail of Ritalin and whatever drug Bradley Cooper was addicted to in that one movie they later made into a shitty TV show. The other half of the time my critical analysis, though coherent, stretched to thirty-six pages (no exaggeration).

I was able to hack apart the latter version with a hatchet, and a few slivers of it have been included in this write-up, along with some fresh thoughts on the movie after giving it another once-over on my home theater system. Hopefully the thoughts shorn off my now axed 2049 manifesto help create a rational measure of insight to share on the artistry and agency of this contemplative film. And here I am wasting your fucking time, explaining how I wrote this thing up instead of just finishing the motherfucker.

I’ll just preface this by saying it’s impossible to discuss 2049 without at least mentioning the first Blade Runner and voicing a few of my thoughts on that film, considering how much it’s meant to me over the years. Also, so there’s no confusion I’ll usually be referring to this new film as 2049 and the earlier Ridley Scott movie as Blade Runner.

If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner was very loosely based upon Philip K. Dick’s short novella Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?, retaining few elements of Dick’s story besides some character names and the general setting of the world. The setting involves a highly advanced technological future, said to be 2019 in the original film, in which genetically indistinguishable androids (the latest model of which is called a Nexus-6), known as replicants, have been created as slave labor, and mostly used for the perilously dangerous industry of colonizing other worlds. It’s not clear how many worlds have been colonized, nor if these worlds are part of Sol’s orbit, or inhabit other star systems, but Earth appears to be a mere footnote by the era of the film. It is heavily implied that Earth is highly polluted, has undergone yet survived various environmental events which have permanently altered the weather and atmosphere, including nuclear war and extinction of many different species, and is now considered a very undesirable place to live.

The original film follows the intertwining story of Rick Deckard, a type of bounty hunter known as a “blade runner” who specializes in tracking down and eliminating rogue androids, and Roy Batty, a dying combat android who Deckard has come out of retirement to hunt. Ridely Scott’s film uses this general backdrop as a mechanism for an aesthetically light narrative of show-don’t-tell, including much visual intrigue and little direct exposition. Though often viewed as a scattershot of stylistic flair with shallow depths to its storytelling, this original film has been praised for years as evolutionary cinema, and has often been interpreted to explore the nature of humanity, consciousness, mortality, and the human capacity for both violence and compassion.

Personally, I tend to shy away from the more relativistic viewpoint in terms of filmmaking, and other forms of cumulative artistic expression and storytelling mediums. I think people who say “Anything can be art” and “Quality is just an opinion” are just people who don’t really know much about art, and haven’t seen enough quality films to be able to distinguish them from those which happen to be steaming crocks of shit stew, never mind the fact that such individuals are likely too dense to grasp what makes quality storytelling worthwhile to begin with. Ipso facto, if you’ve watched enough movies and actually care about movies, and you possess an attention span somewhere north of a toddler on morphine, you probably know what I’m talking about. I want to say this without the sort of high-nosed hauteur normally associated with such statements, but as a talented dude once put it “If it is art, it is not for everyone. If it is for everyone, it is not art.” I’m thankful to say 2049 inhabits a place in cinema well within the span of that distinction and, if box office numbers are any indication, makes no apology for it.

Because Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner has been released in various cuts, some better received than others, there exists a great deal of division over what his film was trying to say, as well as a massive amount of speculation on whether or not Deckard himself actually happened to be an android without knowing it. This level of ambiguity surrounding the original film has become a major part of why its fans adore it so much as praiseworthy cinema. It’s for this, and many other reasons, that Blade Runner remains my favorite movie of all time. Not saying it’s the best movie ever made, I’m just saying it’s my favorite, rivaled only by The Empire Strikes Back.

I was pretty damn rattled when first hearing that somebody in the wretched hive of Hollywood decided it would be a good idea to make a sequel to my favorite movie of all time. Or maybe, as some at the time speculated, it would be a reboot. I couldn’t quite decide which thought was more fuckening. Considering some of the reboots we’ve had, I imagined nothing but a hollow, CGI lightshow of forgettable one-dimensional characters running about a cliché world only vaguely reminiscent of the trend-setting urban dystopia from Ridley Scott’s cultish masterpiece.

That said, clearly Denis Villeneuve isn’t here to fuck around. He’s an established director with a modest, respectably memorable body of work. Even bitterly immersed my previously mentioned revulsion at the thought of a Blade Runner sequel, I recall thinking that if any bastard in the film industry could actually pull it off, it’s probably him. As I previously stated on this very blog, my respect for Villeneuve was deeply conflicted with my closely held conviction that the first Blade Runner is laudable precisely because of the things it doesn’t tell the audience, doesn’t explain, and leaves ambiguous and open to interpretation. Its depth lies in its mystery and somewhat abstract approach to an otherwise simplistic narrative. It’s no surprise this approach wasn’t popular at the time, and continues to be debated among film critics to this day.

I was terribly afraid, despite Villeneuve’s dextrous hand at the helm, there would be a massive exposition dump somewhere in Blade Runner 2049, explaining away gargantuan volumes of plot devices and character motivations from the original movie, effectively destroying everything that made it great. I vehemently avoided any promotional material after the initial teaser trailer, because I wanted to go into the new film cold, no idea of what exactly to expect.

Imagine my surprise upon first viewing the 2049, realizing the abstract concepts from the first movie have mostly been abandoned in favor of a far more straightforward and less nebulous storytelling method, and from the patient start to the unusually optimistic end, the notional mysteries from Ridley Scott’s original film are rarely referenced and safely allowed to remain unexplained. There’s even a scene in which one character proposes an idea to another which could serve as an expository mechanism for something from the first film, yet this is left hanging for a moment before being brushed aside with the feeling that these ideas, this very discussion is irrelevant to the story at hand.

Out of the gate, I appreciated 2049’s ownership of its story, confidence in its approach to that story, and general lack of what I’d describe as cynical filmmaking tropes. Again, like Schönberg said, true art isn’t meant for everyone and by that token 2049 flat out assumes you’re into the sort of vice it’s slinging, and doesn’t even try to placate a wider audience. I loved this about the movie. I haven’t the slightest clue how Villeneuve got a studio to sign off on this approach without adding a plucky side-kick, laugh-a-minute slapstick, or overblown fantastical action sequences, but somehow the bastard grabbed that gem. It’s a movie that’s just trying to be what it is, it doesn’t give a fuck about your politics, your fandoms, your capacity to be offended, and it doesn’t much give a damn about you if romantic comedies are more your speed. From start to finish, this movie comfortably inhabits its own skin without any pandering whatsoever. Even fans of the original film aren’t really catered in any particular way. It’s goddamn amazing to see that sort of integrity in a modern, high budget movie.

Blade Runner 2049 continues the tale of its progenitor, set exactly thirty years afterward. The world is said to have suffered an event called the Blackout, in which most electronic technology was damaged beyond repair, causing digitally stored data to be lost, and some technological regression has occurred as a result. Nexus-6 androids are said to have been scrapped after various malfunctions and uprisings, possibly themselves being the cause of the Blackout, and a corporation run by mega-mogul Niander Wallace later created a new model of androids who apparently have no capacity for free will. Many older models have gone into hiding or on the run however, and thus special squads of bounty hunters still called blade runners are tasked with finding and “retiring” them. The movie follows an android blade runner created to hunt his own kind, Officer KD6-3.7, as he stumbles upon a mysterious clue which could have dangerous repercussions.

While its approach to storytelling differs significantly from its predecessor, 2049 remains a retread of certain material from the previous movie, for instance it’s still set in the dystopian futuristic world of that film, and the story also involves a fair bit of existential quandary, ruminations on human nature, and moral imperatives. It’s a reboot through and through, which builds a sense of atmosphere just as effectively as the original film, but also exists as a reputably well-made film in its own right. Blade Runner, the original, remains my favorite film of all time, so please appreciate the gravity of my admission when I confidently say that 2049 is a better movie.

It’s better because it is far less ambiguous, functions more fluently as a cinematic story, and features thematic elements which effectively translate throughout the plot without turning into fluffy schmaltz, yet still offers contemplative commentary on the human condition, potentially leading its audience to speculate for years on end. While the meditative facet remains strong, we syllogistically have far more coherent story here than the first movie. Odd that ambiguity is what makes the original Blade Runner great for me, yet the lack of it is what makes this new movie equally triumphant. Either way 2049 manages to be its own, different experience while also remaining familiar.

As Officer K follows the trail of evidence, we’re given glimpses of the world around him, once again getting small suggestions that no one wants to live on Earth anymore and that life in “the colonies” is preferable to the polluted, over-populated streets of this overused world. At the same time, it’s cool to see the film sticking to its guns as a follow-up to Blade Runner; Pan-Am still exists in this futuristic dystopia, Atari apparently remains a major manufacturer of electronics, wireless communications seem to be relatively scarce. The world has also progressed somewhat, even since the Blackout, holograms and A.I. are now more common, security and intelligence services now enjoy the convenience of surveillance drones, some cars can still fly but look slick compared to the older models. The level of detail and nuance paid to the production design is breathtaking in maintaining the flavor of the film’s world.

Of course this is aided incredibly by the fact that 2049 is fucking beautiful. CGI and inventive set designs blend wonderfully with practical effects, creating a wonderful sense of immersion. A romantic scene particularly has one of the most memorable effects shots I’ve ever seen. Dirty, polluted, over-populated cities have never looked this spectacular, expansive grub farms and endless fields of solar arrays are somehow hypnotic. Roger Deakins has several decades of cinematography under his belt, so it’s no surprise he’s earned every goddamn ounce of that Academy Award. Aesthetically, you’ll have a tough time finding a more seamless film out there.

There’s some terrific casting as well, with Canadian heartthrob Ryan Gosling in the lead role which, despite some hilarious gags to the contrary out there on the mimetic internets, does in fact require a great deal of subtlety and skill from him as a performer, and he handles the material marvelously. Ana De Armas also stars in the unusual role of K’s holographic girlfriend Joi, a concept which I found slightly uncomfortable at first, but some awesome writing on the part of this character and the way her presence affects K’s arc unexpectedly makes her massively relevant compared to romantic female characters in most movies. Jared Leto flashes his beautiful smug face at us, ironically as egomaniacal industrialist Niander Wallace, neither Lennie James nor Dave Bautista hang around quite long enough to suit me in their cameos but their presence is soothing regardless, Halt And Catch Fire fans will appreciate Mackenzie Davis’ mere existence, and the always elegant Robin Wright appears as K’s superior officer. For good measure, we get short glimpses of veterans Harrison Ford, Edward James Olmos, and Sean Young. Undercelebrated up-and-comer Carla Juri also stars as a kindhearted memory crafter, who helps create artificial histories for replicants.

If we’re talking badass casting though, hands down, Dutch actress Sylvia Hoeks positively dominates as Niander Wallace’s left-hand replicant acolyte Luv. This woman steals the fucking show for me, and I could not imagine how uncultured a motherfucker I must’ve been to have never seen any of her films before this. I’m not quite sure what it is, but she seems to hit that stride of violent femininity almost perfectly without even coming near cliché territory. Luv is my favorite and, I would argue, the most interesting character in the film. In addition to adding some much needed sense of menace to the plot momentum, Luv is written somewhat unconventionally despite being a strong woman, avoiding that flash-and-thunder spectacle most screenwriters just can’t resist, she displays a range of behavior as the movie progresses, some times conflicting, yet relentlessly driven in her purpose. Where K, in many respects, is simply doing his job, Luv seems to truly, unquestionably believe in what she is doing. I also found it interesting that Joi is named after an emotion with almost no negative connotations, meaning pure elation. Whereas Luv’s name is synonymous with a passionate, wild, chaotic mix of difficult to control complexes of emotion, sensations, and compulsions.

Luv’s name and personality reminded me of a line from Catullus;“I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask. I do not know, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.”

I think primarily, the most poignant thing I can tell you about this movie is you might not enjoy it as much as me. It’s very similar to the original film in that manner. It’s science fiction to the core, not swinging too far in either direction, science or fiction respectively, sitting comfortably in that niche and playing to people who are also comfortable right there. In an effort to avoid any direct spoilers, I’ll try to leave my general assessment at that, depending on who you are, you’ve as much a chance to be bored as be mystified and intrigued by this movie. I fucking love this movie, but I’m also not some heckling hipster who wants mainstream audiences to get fucked so I can regress myself back to Shakespearean times where I can head to the local theatre house, buy a tankard of ale and quartroun loaf of oat bread, and watch the players act out the most recently published archaic comedy. I feel just as strongly about this as I do the first Blade Runner, if you don’t enjoy 2049, well I actually could totally see why. It isn’t made for everyone. It’s not quite trying to entertain, or dazzle, or impress, merely trying to tell its own story in the best conceivable way.

Blade Runner 2049 it seems, in the most apropos way, is the rarest sort of movie possible; a film with a wonderful array of talent behind it, an enormous budget to back this up, and a wide net of distribution, but almost no conceit to reach anyone but its target audience. A wondrous, beautiful example of cinematic artistry potentially sold with knowledge that their return on investment would not be entirely achieved, a story both tragic and inspiring. Again, I’ve absolutely no idea how Denis Villenueve managed to get the producers to back this uncompromising approach to such a well-funded movie, but I’m very glad he did.

2049 spins its narrative with a minimum amount of overt exposition, air-tight production design, conceptually interesting visuals, and a great cast of performers, which all gels to offer one of the most memorable, thoughtful cinema-going experiences I’ve enjoyed in the past ten years. There’s a darkness and restlessness to this advanced world, both breathtaking and disturbing, as much grit and garbage as there is streamlined technology and triumphant wonder. Much of this aesthetic filters beautifully into the story Villenueve is trying to tell us. The visuals seem as finely tuned as the editing itself, weaving itself cumulatively into the associative memory of the audience, seeming to hit beats more common of an atmospheric horror movie than a futuristic sci-fi film. Perhaps that’s why I’ve found it so haunting.

My apologies if all of this is a little too generalized for your liking, I could understand if so. As with many worthwhile forms of entertainment, I recommend seeing it and deciding for yourself. I mean, I’m just some asshole on the internet whose noodles are getting cold. Some times I wonder what the hell I’m even talking about, myself. So have a kick-ass day, dudes, and carpe noctem.

侍 headless

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asryakino · 4 years ago

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Okay

Okay yeah

I’m under a LOT more stress than normal right now. And my stupid little brain is compartmentalizing it into trauma size and worry which is a nice thing for it to do. But it results in me feeling like I’m super stressed and not expressing it enough becuase the Emergency Shutoff valve for Emotion (tm) has been hit and I’m just... numb now.

Just fucking numb. Started off with coming home between shifts (as usual) to discover the battery in my laptop had decided to bulge and the registration I did four years ago never fucking took. It was out of warrenty by now anyway but still. Panic. Called company, got battery part number - had to call while in front of mom because THAT was when they picked up - immediately set off one of mom’s triggers about how shitty her laptop is because she chose to go back to the one she hates over learning to use the tablet computer. Stepped out to the mailbox only to discover that we’ve been reported for having (gasp* BOXES on our screened-in front porch. I had to call city ordienence and hope this was a misunderstanding about my ugly ass container garden made of upcycled kitty litter containers. The woman who wrote the violation? Not answering the phone. So I get to stress about this because the LAST violation WARNING please note this is a WARNING that’s IT a notification of the rule being broken. My mom HOUNDED about it for TEN FUCKING YEARS. And I only JUST got her to shut the fuck up about it. I could not, for the sake of my sanity, allow her to find out we’d been reported by some scumbag in the neighbourhood. Left a message, stressed more about what to say/do/how to deal with this situation.

okay... dealt with that. Then went to work for second shift - stressed and on edge because my driver’s been getting onto me about every little thing because her sister has been visiting, and she’s been unconsciously bringing THAT stress onto the bus and affecting her work. I’ve been respectfully silent on the matter while she’s chewed me out over every little thing. I was battling a migraine by this point and covered my eyes to fend off as much stimulation as possible while I try to conserve enough fucking energy to pretend to be a functioning adult while the kids are on. Stress more about whether our trouble kid will be riding because I do not have the brainpower to deal with them.

Trouble doesn’t ride, other kids are as alright as can be expected. Driver is still being distant. City Code woman calls mid shift, and I have to tell her I have to talk to her when I’m NOT at work. But OH she won’t be in her office again until WEDNESDAY. Which puts the posted time limit on the fucking violation SHE WROTE at fucking HALF before I even find out what I have to do to correct for this shit in the first place.

YAY more stress. yippie.

By now my jaw is hurting, my head is throbbing, my knees and ankles are killing me and my elbows have popped due to fidgeting flex and tension dislocating my fucking joints again.

Drop kids off, try to finish paperwork as necessary, think I have everything done, make escape to have a cry in the car and try to relax just a LITTLE bit to deal with this shit.

Go home- mom is still in bad mood, no relaxing happening tonight. Get a text from driver where she announces that she’s going to have to get a new aide who can do all the paperwork properly (I missed one part of one section) and that “won’t eat, sleep and play games instead of doing work. [I] have NEVER had an aide act like this!”

Note - I don’t sleep on the bus. I put my head down to counter the overstimulation of afternoon sun, passing traffic, and scenery.

I don’t “play games” on my phone. I READ. And since we’re allowed books, there should be no problem allowing electronic books. But when she complained I stopped even doing THAT because it upset my driver.

So I don’t put my head down to keep out overstimulation, and I can’t read to provide my own stimulation. So instead? I’ve been staring and zoning out at the back of the seat ahead of me instead. This she has interperted as me sleeping apparently.

Eating - she eats every day, and I eat most days because I don’t do well on the whole -eating- thing so I MAKE myself eat small snacks to keep from passing out.

She has an obsessive need to have a floor on a schoolbus you can apparently eat off of. And compulsively cleans the bus 2-5 times a DAY, with SPECIAL attention around MY seat because either consciously or unconsciously she considers ME a mess. She ALSO considers the children messes, and has yelled at them and insisted I enforce a stupid ass level of cleanliness that most NICU don’t enforce. Example - the kids are not allowed to TOUCH the windows or it upsets her. They are all visibly upset and scared of being yelled at by her for touching the windows.

her text just set me off the deep end and I shut down immediately to respond that I was sorry for my failings and she has made it extremely clear that I am not fit for this work and job and that if she wants a new aide I will set aside so she can have one that better fits her. My mind is already made up, I’m requesting another assignment for next year - literally any other assignment at this point because she has made it EXTREMELY clear thorugh her words and actions that I am not welcome in her space and she doesn’t feel I am able to perform my work at all.

When I had to write up a kid, I wrote out the exact details and times of what happened. She took it upon herself to rewrite the write up and put her own version of events. Which was esclated as to what really happened and caused issues when trying to explain the situation.

So I came home to all that bullshit, then drove an hour to do a grooming job that helped somewhat with the stress. But the stress immediately returned when my mind was no longer on the topic of grooming cats.

Coming home I stopped for pizza as a way to placate mother - and noticed my engine was making a bad knocking sound. The sound worsened until saturday morning when it sounded as if I was going to blow a piston out of the engine block. Oil was bone dry, transmission was dry, added each and additive to help... sound still there and steadily getting worse. Go to mechanic on the way to my dad’s. NOW having to deal with a panicked mother who is panic stressing about the engine noise that we can literally do nothing about. Go to mechanic, who says it’s a piston or arm and the engine is fucked and on a timer to self destruction - I just dropped 2k in repairs on it about two months ago.

MORE STRESS

Fan fucking tastic.

go to store to get dinner, go to dad’s...

dinner and movie is good, tablet is chugging and won’t play games. Eh.. is fine.

Put mom to bed, watch final movie with dad, go to bed.

Discover 8d music - some stress removed.

Mom starts having a massive seizure- shaking, foaming at the mouth, non responsive, eyes rolled back grand maal seizure. Get dad, call 911, have to direct them how to get to her bedroom, direct them how to get her out of the house and to the ambulance because my dad’s house is weird...

follow to hospital

sit in ER for nearly 14 hours for them to determine they have no idea what happened, but that she def had a seizure in front of them (an absent one) and what I describe is a grand maal, and that they just don’t know what happened.

truck still sounds like shit

dad finds replacement truck in my city for 2500$

cool cool

dad already dealing with dropped house insurance, busted ass roof, and possibility of being kicked out of his house because of tax prices and bullshit because he can’t hold a job because of shit that happened 30 years ago.

yay more fucking stress.

so yeah

I just really fucking feel like dying right now mkay?

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malusdraco · 8 years ago

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GITS: the squad celebrates Batou’s birthday

lol i said i’d do it and i did it

summary: after a long mission, section 9 cuts loose in a way that’s time sensitive- birthday presents for batou. hijinks ensue

~3k words

The doors slid back in front of her as Major Kusanagi stepped into the think-tank lab. A few technicians in starchy lab coats ambled around a docked tachikoma with a handful of sizable bullet-holes in its chassis. It took weeks of careful research and stakeouts to finally reach the conclusion of the mission they came back from yesterday. Team members wore satisfied grins but the tank attaché had been brutalized.

As usual the repairs were eagerly monitored by a semi-circle of other tachikomas that exchanged their usual chirpy babble amongst themselves. As Motoko approached the operation, the technicians looked up and stopped what they were doing.

“Major! Repairs are going smoothly. We got lucky this time, no processor damage, just some severed fuel and hydraulics lines. It should be fully functional in about a week.”

Kusanagi looked him in the eye and nodded, glancing back to the fist-sized holes in the tank’s exterior. The tachikomas had stopped talking for a second to acknowledge her, but picked up again almost immediately.

“Do you think he already has one?” a tank said.

“I don’t know! We could check his purchase history,” another responded

“The real question is would he even want one?”

“Yeah, are we thinking for him or for our imagined version of him?”

“Is there anything he needs? Perhaps some kind of maintenance gear?”

“Not your usual existential debates. Not even a mention of syncing experience.” Motoko interrupted.

The coterie of tanks quieted, sheepishly looking away and locking their arms together. With every day they acted more human, so much so they resembled guilty children.

“What’s going on?” Kusanagi curtly directed her question at a technician.

He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a tachikoma, “It’s Batou’s birthday in a few days! We wanted to show him our appreciation.”

It took a moment for her to process the information. As an idea calmly took a seat in her mind, Motoko’s stoic demeanor lifted to reveal a tiny smirk, “is it now?” Satisfied, and with a newfound spark, she strode away, waving a hand that signaled to carry on.

Her first destination was the break room.

She opened the door and watched Togusa, Saito, and Paz sit up in their seats. She took a few steps in and looked around to make sure Batou wasn’t there before she looked at them again and grinned. The men seemed to relax as she ambled over to the sofa and sat down on the back edge.

“What’s up, boss?” Togusa inquired, putting his cell down on the table and leaning back into his seat.

“I just found out that Batou’s birthday is soon and I think we should do something for it.”

“Really Major, why’d we do that?” Saito furrowed his brow and slightly tilted his head.

“It’s not like we’re office workers. What kind of anti-crime unit celebrates birthdays? We haven’t even done it before.” Togusa added.

“That’s the point,” Motoko chuckled, “He’d have no idea what’s happening.”

“I’m in,” Paz spoke up, a devious look on his face.

Saito sighed, “I don’t even know what I’d get him. He seems like he takes care of his own interests just fine.”

“Then get him something he doesn’t know he needs,” Paz replied, grinning wildly, “best reaction wins.”

“Wins what?” Togusa started.

“Wins,” Motoko said, getting up from her seat, “Ishikawa and Borma should still be tying up loose ends in the dive room right? I’ll go tell them.”

She walked over to the door and paused as it slid open “We’ve got until Friday. And -I shouldn’t have to say this but- don’t tell him.”

As she left the room to find the other two men, she spotted Batou at the end of the long corridor, coming out of another door. He waved cheerfully and jogged to meet her. Closer now, she could see a sweaty sheen on his face. Along with his jaunty step and glowing smile, she could tell he was coming from his usual workout. As she passed him she gave her sunniest smile. He hesitated for a bit but didn’t say anything as she continued walking. Truly her poker face was the best of the squad but sometimes she couldn’t help an exaggerated break of demeanor, especially if it meant fucking with Batou.

She briskly made her way down hallways and around corners and was soon in front of the dive room. The door opened and she walked in, soon bathed in the green underlight of the electronics. One station towards the back was occupied. Ishikawa sat in the chair, jacked into the headset as Borma sat next to him in an office chair he had pulled up. On closer inspection Borma was also hooked into the computer, serving as backup for Ishikawa. When the door closed behind her neither of them moved from their positions. She walked up. Only when she stood behind the two of them did Borma look to her. He unplugged and nudged Ishikawa to take the headset off.

“Turns out the nanomachine records were exactly as she said. Her story clears pretty well.” Borma reported.

Ishikawa took off the headset and rubbed his eyes for a bit before grunting an addition, “we were just looking at the remnants of the victim’s cyberbrain to try to put together the exact timeline for the official report.”

“Good, a clean case,” Kusanagi said.

“The report should be done in half an hour,” Ishikawa sighed.

After a pause the Major got to her point: “Did you know Batou’s birthday is on Friday?”

Borma’s wore an expression of incredulity as Ishikawa turned around in the seat to look her in the face, exhausted but mildly intrigued.

“The tachikomas have decided to do something for it and I think we should join in.” Kusanagi continued.

“You can’t mean you’re going to organize a party.” Ishikawa grumbled.

“No, I don’t. Just a little gift-giving,” Motoko smirked at what she was about to say and leaned back to put a hand on her chin for good measure, “best one wins.”

Borma chuckled amusedly, “oh so it’s a contest now is it?”

Ishikawa looked away, trying to hide a smile, “alright I’m in. Mission accepted.”

“I’ve already told the rest of the guys about this, feel free to discuss with them.” Motoko grinned and turned to see the chief standing in the middle of the room.

“I would ask what you’re up to if I didn’t already know. Just make sure to finish that report.” He said, “I’d like a status update if you two wouldn’t mind.”

Aramaki moved to take Kusanagi’s place behind Borma and Ishikawa as she walked out of the room.

Her plans were set.

------

Friday morning Batou walked into the building to find the reception area empty, save for a few clerical androids. He frowned but mentally wrote it off as they placidly greeted him good morning and went back to work.

As he passed them, he began to hear rustling. He turned around to see three androids arranging themselves into a line. Within a few seconds they stopped moving, seemingly at attention for something. Batou began to tense up, unsure of what to expect. He heard the small crunch of static as the intercom turned on and began to play the Macarena.

The androids moved in perfect sync, performing the entire dance routine as a group. After a few verses of the song, Batou eased up and stood looking somewhat defeated at the dancing androids. He stood there until the song ended. For a few seconds the androids held their poses before dissembling and going back to their positions at the desks.

“What the… hell?” he scratched his head, suddenly feeling somewhat out of place. Eventually he turned around and pushed through the main doors, now thoroughly distracted. As he was walking down the entry hall, the image of the Major’s out-of-character smile popped into his mind. He let out a resigned sigh, it was probably her idea of a joke.

He stopped and stood still again, in front of him in the middle of the hall lay a black chrome gun. Frowning, he knelt down to examine it. It was about the size of a pistol, but bigger than any used in standard practice. The shapes of the piece flowed into one another, very unlike the boxy standard-issue guns. The barrel came to a delicate point, more like a flintlock like anything else. He picked it up and fitted his hand into the grip. It was heavier than he was expecting but felt better than he could have hoped. On closer inspection it was definitely not a revolver. He pulled out the magazine to find it empty. But it was equipped to deal with bigger-than-normal bullets. He came to the conclusion that it was a semi-automatic pistol that was reinforced to be able to shoot beefier rounds. He grinned and thought of Togusa’s shitty Mateba as he stuck the gun in his belt. Somebody was fucking with him, that’s for sure, and at least some of his unit was in on it. He didn’t know what the hell was going on but at this rate he might as well play along.

He headed for the break room first.

On the way there, the only things occupying the halls were assistant androids. Batou looked past them, unable to contain a small smirk at the thought of another dance number. At last in front of the break room door he began expounding to the opening door “Nice job with that dance routine in the reception hall, and with this gun it feels like you’re expecting me to-”

The room was empty. He walked in and took a look around. Nothing was amiss until his eyes came to the table. Sitting on it was a black velvet box about the size of a coaster. Batou walked to the couch a vaulted over the back edge to sit right in front of the box. He gave it a quick scan with some of the more useful functions of his sleepless eye. Definitely not an explosive device, not an emp generator either. He sucked in through his teeth, gingerly picking up the box. Upon closer examination, he could see his name faintly embossed into the lid. He let his hands fall to his lap and emitted an exasperated groan. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t dangerous. He looked down again at the box and absentmindedly flipped the lid open. Inside, nestled in satin, was a shining gold wristwatch with a blue face. The seconds hand marched along in brilliant red.

A genuine smile dominated his face and he let out a barking laugh. The watch fit snug around his wrist. What a sweet gift! As if on cue, the familiar ping of a cyber-communication flared in his brain:

“Batou, meet us in the briefing room” rang the Major’s voice.

He jauntily jumped back over the couch and jogged out of the room, ready to receive whatever explanation the team was bound to give when he got there. He put on his best joyful face as the door slid open…

To another empty, silent room. The lights were on and the main screen black. The desks on each tiered level were devoid of the normal scatterings of briefing notes. His expression fell to genuine confusion as he scanned for some sort of sign. He spotted a figure with purple hair sat in the front row.

“Major? What’s going on here?” he clenched his fists and stomped over to the figure which stayed unmoving in response.

Closer now, the figure still didn’t move. He grabbed the back of the swiveling chair and wrenched it to face him. He was greeted by a cartoonish, plastic face with wide open mouth-- a blow up doll? The purple wig it wore fell to the ground as Batou took a few staggering steps backward. His face heated up like a sword in a forge as he felt his chest clench into a battle-ready fist. Embarrassment quickly turned into anger.

“Is this your idea of a prank?” he shouted at the empty room before kicking over the chair and making a seething exit.

Back in the hall now, he walked to try to cool his stormy mind. His mental pleas for answers became desperate as anger turned into stressed confoundment. Before he knew it he was in front of the gym. He went in and was greeted by a fairly obvious new sight: a new model DevilRay work-out machine. Taped to the handlebars was a cartoonish cut-out drawing of himself (with a strained face), colored in with children’s markers. He felt the rest of his anger drain away as he stared blankly at the jolly setup. He walked up to the machine and put a hand on the handlebar. Gripping it, he turned around to survey the rest of the room. Sitting on his favorite machine was a cellophane-wrapped something with a piece of paper resting on top. He let go and let his hand trail down as he glided over to the item.

The note on top read in clear letters: “I thought you might like to use some nice whisky glasses for a change. -Togusa”

Was he behind all this? He examined the package. Sure enough, contained within the plastic sheath was a set of six nicely cut glasses.

Batou sighed, “he’s not smart enough to program the androids but this is, at least, for sure from him.”

It was too late before he noticed the hand grasping the gun in his belt. He turned around to see a small chrome android fleeing into the hall, gun in hand.

“For fuck’s sake!” he sprang into action, racing out the door into the hallway.

The robot was at the far end of the hall. He sprinted to catch up but when he rounded the corner caught just a glimpse of the glinting chrome as it disappeared into another corridor. The chase continued for a few more hallways before Batou began to wonder where the android would end up. It disappeared around another corner. He slowed to a jog as he realized the corridor was a dead end. The only room in that hall was the security office. Turning the corner he spotted the small form at the end of the hall, back to one of the few doors that swung outward. In one clawed hand, the gun stayed at its side.

“It’s time for you to give me some answers.” He said nonchalantly, somewhat out of breath as he walked closer to the robot.

It raised the gun to point it at his head.

“Hah! Good luck with an empty gun” Batou continued forward.

It flipped the safety and put a finger on the trigger.

“Really? What do you think you’re-” a thought cut him off-- he forgot to check the chamber.

He heard the click of the trigger, the pop of an explosion and his vision turned to static.

He felt his knees hit the ground. As his body came slowly back to its senses he made out the sound of the door opening and the android dropping to the floor, no longer controlled. He took a few gasping breaths and finally noticed the bits of confetti floating gently down over his head.

“That was a little cruel Major-”

“Cruel? Coming from mr sex doll…”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, “you okay big guy?”

He looked up to see Togusa’s mildly concerned face. Dumbstruck, he made no reply. The Major came from the direction of the door and offered her hand. Behind her he could see the rest of the team shuffling out. Ishikawa was concerned with the android on the floor, he picked it up and took the gun from its hand. Batou took up Kusanagi’s offer and she brought him back up to standing.

“That was from me” she said, a twinge of guilt in her voice, “it’s a helper bot for the house! You put it in your apartment and it’ll clean up for you. Should work great for a bachelor like yourself.”

“It’s also uniquely hackable” Ishikawa cut in.

“We saw the whole thing from the security cameras,” Paz laughed.

“And the gun-?” Batou managed.

“Every man needs a firearm he can rely on, I thought you could use something special.” Borma chimed in from his spot, leaning on the wall.

“Before you ask, Paz did the blow-up doll,” Ishikawa said, standing up after making sure the helper-bot was righted.

“You piece of shit,” Batou tried to keep angry but had a hard time keeping himself from grinning. Paz looked directly at him and shrugged mischievously. “Who was responsible for the display in the lobby?”

“I had to learn three different new pieces of software within the space of 24 hours to do that so I hope you liked it” Ishikawa said smiling as he handed Batou his new gun.

“So that means you did the watch, Saito.”

The sniper nodded from the corner, “You’re a classy guy and could use a nice timepiece.”

“But why all these things?”

“Don’t you know” the Major interrupted, “It’s your day Batou.”

At that, the rest of the squad filed out. Batou collected himself, brushing off the confetti on his shoulders. He stopped “But wait, who did the exercise machine?”

Kusanagi froze and turned to him, studying his face for some sort of answer until her eyes widened the slightest bit as she came to her own conclusion. “It was the tachikomas,” she said, her face hardening into her usual imperturbable mask. He let out a strained whistle, if they had drawn that picture there were going to be issues. Back to normal business at section 9.

On his way out after a day’s work, Batou spotted Chief Aramaki coming towards him with something in his hands. He stopped in front of the exit door as the small man approached him.

“You have been an invaluable member of the team, Batou. Allow me to present to you this.” Aramaki handed him a bottle of wine before putting a hand in his pocket and losing the official demeanor, “Drink it or wait, it’s a twenty year vintage so it should be worth some money someday. Happy birthday Batou.”

As the chief ambled back to his office, Batou stood stock-still. He felt the air drain from him like a deflating balloon.

It was his birthday, wasn’t it?

#ghost in the shell #gits #fanfiction #malus writes #this is pretty loose and fast when it comes to canon. especially wrt the building they work in #should i make an after blurb that's just the discussion of who won #?#also keep in mind this is largely unedited one and done kinda thing #it took... so long but i hope y'all enjoy it

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hursthardin5-blog · 8 years ago

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Do not buy GTA V On Heavy steam

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