#human brains are so inefficient

[rockcat2112]

I just spent over 2 hours trying to create plate tectonics for one planet in my world-building project, I'm not even 1/3rd of the way there and I already am tired. Why are human brains so fuckin' inefficient.

I crave certainty of room temperature superconductor-based hyperprocessors instead of human brain ;-;

[seaslugandscylla]

I don’t have Roblox or know lore, but I love the design of this fishy bastard. So miserable, so irritated, so sassy, so fishy in the most fishy way. However, my brain infected with biology overthinking forces me to think too much about his inefficient way of nutrition. Too long digestive track, two stomachs, too many intestines, two digestive enzymes sets, two metabolism rates and two absolute different dietary needs. But only one teeny-tiny human mouth through which he can eat his fill. No way to satisfy the sea serpents belly when the maximum size of his bite is a big sandwich, yet even if they have the jaw like a snake the snack must be small enough to pass his esophagus and to fit in the human belly. Probably his constantly hungry and slightly malnourished. Poor guy. Also the very human side yearns for greens and their fancy vitamins, delicious chlorophylls and carotenoids. Still needs them though, avitaminosis is not cool or pleasant. He hasn’t eaten a broccoli for who knows how long and dreams about it hoping some idiots sent to him has one to give away. But not sure if the rest of the body is as keen on leafy goods. Maybe it would demonstrate against? Who knows? I only know that the menu of fish part includes only meaty dishes in XXXXXXL size. The orange carotene might not be welcome down there. The true irony of the fate. He’s so tragic character…so I gave them an ability to cook soup and a big pot. Now he can keep the semblance of normality and safe warm meal in the abyss

Here are some of my thoughts about most interesting notes cause my brain

[villainessbian]

Concept: most aliens can get anxious, can get scared, can get fight-or-flight. What most aliens do not get, however, is stress. Stress is a weird thing even by human standards. It can build up over time or be something tied to a very limited situation. It can be caused by a lot of things, and it comes in a lot of different ways. But it's a core human reaction, when a situation is wrong, it causes stress until it is righted. And it even affects different people differently!

Cue Human Cassandra, on a ship with her friend and co-worker Human Pauline. The ship is crewed with a mix of species. It's a cargo ship - load up in a space port, unload in another, get news and supplies during their stops, and live as an ever-shifting family as some of the two dozen crew members, give or take, get replaced. Some leave come payday, and new ones come looking for the thrill of low-level adventure, experiencing warp drives across the safer roads of the known universe.

But getting the supplies you need, or want, in stops is never so easy. Humans are new to the galactic community, and their needs misunderstood. Most broad-edibility food is bland for them, but that's okay. A big enough bag of their condiments can last them years. But ADHD meds... now that's less easy to get, the further from Earth you are. And a contract too big for their captain to pass on came up, much farther than the two humans expected.

Cassandra's mood deteriorated, her work priorities out of order, her sleep schedule in disarray. Little by little, she grew restless, shifting moods and gears unpredictably. A few weeks in and she was a mess, barely able to keep up with the minimum her job doing maintenance and running safety diagnostics for the route charting team required of her. While Pauline could help with the mechanical aspects of keeping the ship running, picking up the "slack", the safety had to be double-checked by the charting and pilot teams. When the curves of asteroid probability reached beyond a certain level, several hundred simulations had to be run, time-consuming processes had to be used, to avoid any collision at speeds beyond speed c. Some truly exotic things happened to ships that experienced those, but none of them contained the words "surviving crew." A safe route avoided any probability of collision over .1% and when going faster than light, any choice of course required thinking in 3 dimensions plus relative time to navigate dangerous probability fields in one piece, finding time-specific corridors and accounting for a dozen variables at once.

After she had a breakdown over a path she would normally have been able to find in under a minute, Pauline spoke to a concerned pilot team member:

"You have to understand her, this is a stressful situation and she's doing her best..."

"What do you mean by 'stressful'?" Gabalt asked. The furry little creature stood on two arched legs, and barely reached up to Pauline's shoulder, opening three wide eyes with curiosity and concern in equal parts.

"Things are... getting difficult for her, and keep getting more difficult because she does not have medication to help her brain be efficient. It makes her tired, and inefficient, and as it goes on, she's less and less able to cope with the situation. The longer this goes on, the worse it gets, and that is stress. Getting more tired because it takes more energy to deal with the situation, and less efficient because she's more tired, and things get harder because she's less efficient, on and on until something can solve the problem and the stress goes away."

"That sounds... hard. Do all humans have to deal with this?"

"Well, everyone has sources of stress, but she's got a disability. Without her meds, she gets stressed all the time. Not a lot all at once, but it always adds up."

"Oh no! So she'll be stuck like that until we get closer to Earth?"

"Most likely, yes."

But the most momentous thing to happen this day was not her breakdown. Not an hour later, alarms blared up. The simulation holograms all displayed blinking red masses - the less-travelled "safe route" was not as well protected! An asteroid range had been detected cutting through the border field, and it was in their way!

Pauline froze up, not knowing what to do. Gabalt was too surprised to act fast. All the courses from the ship's library of regular manoeuvres suggested a crash chance of over 60%, and mere seconds to act before entering the field!

Before anyone could react, Cassandra came in running from her corner to the front of the bridge, slamming the warp drive shutdown button. Most holograms stuttered and collapsed, the exit from FTL essentially dividing one or several of their dimensions by zero.

Looking quickly at the few remaining ones and gazing at the screens showing the current outside situation like a large window would have - plus a few critical extra points of data - she adjusted the angles manually while everyone still shuddered from the gravitational and temporal whiplash of suddenly coming back into normal time. Unblinkingly, she spotted the asteroids on the route while the ship was still going, if not at relativistic speeds, still fast enough for a single pebble they met to vaporise the Whipple shields, the outer hull, the inner hull, the crew members, and the hull again coming out if they but grazed it. Confirming the angles visually, she played with the reaction wheels, the thrusters, the gravity drives, to divert the ship's course just enough to miss a collision while not risking any grave injury on board. There was no time to react - if anything showed up straight ahead on the "unaugmented" outside view screens, it was too late to not get splatted. After half the crew had had the time to get thrown to the side or on the ground due to the rough handling, she'd managed to avoid any crash.

Gabalt was reeling. While it was surely not impossible, these was the kind of moves experienced veterans would never wish to attempt, and the margins for error were ridiculously low! She'd saved the ship and everyone on it, whereas she'd been unable to do a simple safety run so soon before?

Pauline was white as a sheet, but this was nothing compared to Cassandra, shaking violently and breathing unevenly.

"Pauline? What is she doing?"

"That's... probably the adrenaline."

"What's it for?"

"It's from stress. When it comes it overcharges the body. It's like the traditional, 'fight or flight' instinct from survival in prey-predator paradigms, it lets you move fast but paralyses thought... it feels pretty bad after a lot of it is released though. Now she's crashing down, must be harrowing."

"How did she do that? And you said her thoughts were paralysed for precision manoeuvres?"

Cassandra's voice came, nearly a mutter: "I just... had to. do it."

Gabalt needed to understand what happened.

"What do you mean you had to? Someone had to do it, but why you?"

"It- it was very stressful, I saw you freeze, and so."

"But... but HOW did you do all that? That was extremely complicated, few pilots -whose main craft is directly piloting- would want to even try doing that when given a choice!?"

"I had to. do it, so I did. I couldn't. couldn't make a mistake."

"This makes absolutely no sense."

Pauline interrupted. "She just works like that. Lots of stress and when people freeze up, humans with her condition... sometimes, surprisingly, function better in the moment than others can."

"Ah. So it's a human thing. of course, it's a human thing. NOTHING MAKES ANY SENSE WITH YOUR ACCURSED SPECIES" the diminutive pilot pouted.

And so one more story of the humans doing the impossible spread around. Humans of a subtype, more easily harmed, sometimes unstable and needing help for the simplest things... accomplishing odd, unthinkable, borderline heroic feats under duress none could be expected to withstand - but only then. Cursed, blessed? No story-teller seemed too certain. But the "magical" species never stopped surprising all others. And a new proverb developed: "it's not over until the human says it is".

[inbabylontheywept]

Want Better Things

“You thought that was a bioweapon?” 

The translator broke down for a second as the creature did a sort of broken exhale. Connotations were all that came through. Vague implications. Pity, the software flashed. Disgust. Anger.

A pause as it decided.  

Sadism. 

Valta was already backing away. The final decision didn’t change his behavior, it just made the hall feel far, far too short. 

“I didn’t order it deployed. I didn’t make it.” 

The thing was staring at him, and he couldn’t look away. The two eyes moved in such perfect tandem that he didn’t think it was conscious. It only had binocular vision because it only needed binocular vision. Always the predator, never the prey. 

And now it was moving in on him. 

“Oh, but what if you had? Then I could tell you all the things that were wrong with it.” 

One of its hands - a sprawling, five fingered  spindly thing - traced carelessly along the station's walls. 

“No incubation period. Symptoms arrive within 40 minutes of exposure. No time to spread undetected. Minimum should be one week. Embarrassingly low.” 

The pressure the thing was putting on the wall increased, the gentle glide turning into a buzzing scratch. Humans were strong, but not strong enough to cut through metal like this. The suit had to be powered and clawed. 

“Spread through contact. Limited waterborne. No airborne. Intended mechanism of infection is viral load being put on hands from scratching, and then passed into the environment. Pathetically inefficient.” 

The translator was working, but the thing was overeunounciating each word. The meaning was being passed along by a clean, helpful voice in his suit, even as the sound was being passed on through the environmental speakers. And the sound was dreadful - clicks of ceramized bone jarring against each other, wet muscles modulating air into something sharp and rasping. 

“Mechanism of death? Lysis overload. Could be dangerous if it was transmitted into the lungs, but since the initial load tends to be dermal all we wind up with-”

It took its helmet off. 

It took its helmet off. 

It took its helmet off it took its helmet off it took its helmet off in a biozone it - 

It looked a little pink, actually. A little scratchy. It lifted a delicate, taloned hand and rubbed its face against it for a moment before finishing. 

��-is a rash.”

Valta’s prey drive had glued him to the spot. It was too close. The stupid, stupid part of his brain that still thought he was grazing on Duranga hoped that if he stood still long enough, it might not notice him. 

The human paused a moment before continuing. 

“Do you know why they sent me? Alphonse Ericsen, PhD, MD, civilian doctor, here to speak with you?”

Valta’s snout twitched. The suit translated the gesture for him. 

“No.” 

“Because one of our grunts is a dumb fuck,” the human said simply. “And he spent two days fighting on your station with his helmet off. He got infected that way and brought back your stupid, itchy plague to our carrier ship, and now we’ve all spent the last 8 hours scratching ourselves raw. But the jokes on you, because when we were treating that guy you know what we found? That he was in the asymptomatic phase of a COVID infection. So if this-”

It gestured to its pink face with a snarl. 

“-is your idea of a bioweapon, then COVID is going to be your apocalypse. But if you work with me, and shut everything the fuck down for the next three or four months, I might be able to save most of you.” 

Valta unstuck at that. He’d spent weeks down here, worrying about nothing more than the next skirmish. Now he was looking at a genuine existential threat. 

“...What? Why would you help us? We wanted you to die. All of you. I wanted-”

The human cut him off with an exasperated wave of his hand. 

“You wanted something stupid. Doesn’t mean I have to join you. Best I can do to fix you is keep you alive and hope that you feel ashamed later. That, I genuinely look forward to. Now come on, you’re going to be the one explaining to all your friends what’s at stake here. My bedside manner is so bad that they limited my patients to virology slides and USMC marines. I think that’s actually one rung below the guys that just dissect cadavers.” 

Valta would’ve made an amused hum at that, but something already felt scratchy inside his throat. 

[artbyblastweave]

Any ideas to connect SU Diamonds and Worm Entities for a crossover?

For the past three years and change, I've been kicking around the idea of the Gempire as the residual result of an entity that botched its own cycle so badly that the central Zion-style figurehead holding the entire operation together is a hundred-thousand-year-gone memory. The result amounts to an entity with serious brain damage; The gems retain elements of the original programming for the cycle- namely, the ability to create anthromorphized avatars reflective of the local culture, and the drive to reproduce and consume planets to perpetuate themselves- but they've completely lost the plot on other important elements, namely the importance of hybridizing with local host species, their historical record, the full extent of their dimensional manipulation capabilities, best practices for resource extraction, and, most crucially, mutation, change and innovation as a desirable outcome.

Rather than an avatar, White Diamond is an intelligence analogous to a Endbringer or Titan who slid into the vacant role as the next-most-powerful autonomous portion of the network, holding the consolidated, stretched-thin remains of the original Network together by her fingernails while also deleteriously superimposing her own residual instinct from her original role onto the entire network- namely, to pacify, homogenize and sterilize host planets if and when a cycle is beginning to get out of control. This hybridized with residual data from previous host species that caused the gempire to organize in a fascimile of imperial structures encountered back when their cycle was still functional; essentially "Playing House" at the societal level, aping the culture of a host species without really remembering why.

The result of this is a "cycle" that's bad at everything it's supposed to do but effective enough that it limps on regardless- supremely energy inefficient, stripping planets bare rather than experimenting, and utterly developmentally stagnant. In the unlikely event that an entity were to cross paths with the Gempire, they'd have an uncanny-valley reaction to it and likely attempt to euthanize it, but compared to most entities the Gempire is tiny- while Shards canonically deploy in the hundreds of millions, the gems tend to reproduce only a few tens of thousands of themselves each time they claim a planet, and they usually only strip mine the handful of "active" worlds that would feature in a normal cycle rather than obliterating all dimensional iterations of it.

Yellow, Blue and eventually Pink are similar constructs to White, brought online to assist her in the project after the "imperial" territorial holdings grew too vast to micromanage. Unfortunately (for the cycle) another one of the things that got lost in translation were the controls meant to keep individual shards from developing autonomy or attachment-to-hosts. When the Gempire hit Earth, Pink Diamond and a significant contingent of the network, after patterning themselves after humans and spending a significant amount of time on the ground, pulled a fragile-one and went native, leading to a localized civil war that ended under unclear circumstances when the other the diamonds glassed the planet from orbit and pulled back their operations to prevent whatever affected the rebels from spreading.

All of this happened about 8000 years before the events of Worm, in a universe about 43 dimensions down the line from anything seen in the Earth Bet Cluster; due to the Gempire having mutated so much as to no longer be immediately recognizable as fellow Entities, and with so few active gems left on the planet in the aftermath of the rebellion, Zion ignored the crystal gems and folded them away into the inaccessible dimensional space, where the events of the show played out much as they did in SU canon. Ironically, Steven is the first ever example of this cycle successfully empowering a host, in the most roundabout way possible.

In my notes, and in keeping with the religious-theme-naming of the canon entities, I usually refer to this whole situation as Nirvana (what else would you call it when they break the cycle?)

[whetstonefires]

So the thing with the Matrix for me, right, was I could never get past the assertion that the motivation for keeping humans alive was as a power source.

That pinged as so so stupid, and was presented so late and half-heartedly, that I could not understand it as a sincere part of the premise. Like. We're told very dramatically and pretty early that the world was mostly destroyed by humans 'scourging the skies' to block off all solar radiation in the effort to shut down the solar powered robots, evidently forgetting that all life on Earth is solar-powered also. Too comedically dumb to be really tragic imo.

So to pivot from the premise 'there is no life on earth, other than human beings, because the sun is gone' to 'the humans were kept alive as batteries' is an impossibility for me. Our ludicrous mammalian bodies, incredibly inefficient engines entirely reliant on continuous indirect consumption of solar energy to even survive, were somehow yielding a net output? Not only that, but one superior to nuclear or geothermal???? Bullshit.

I mean. Bull. Shit. I cannot. We just underlined in the backstory how all life on earth relies on the sun! Because life is expensive just to maintain and requires constant external energy input! We get milk from cows by keeping them alive, but that's because they turn the grass energy into something easier for us to process; no such mechanism is proposed for humans consuming dead humans and somehow producing a form of energy more useful to the Machines than just waiting for the corpses to dry out and then burning them to run a goddamn boiler.

This makes the direct opposite of sense.

It had to be in-universe propaganda, right? Another layer of the deception? It couldn't be the real reason. It was too implausible. Which meant I was still waiting to find out why the machines were really bothering with humanity and the Matrix.

I would have accepted without quibble the revelation that humans have special psychic energy that the machines were harvesting; that's dumb but in a comfortable, comprehensible, and above all internally consistent sci-fi kind of way.

I would have been quite open to the idea that the machines relied on human consciousness for their own development to true sapience, and the Matrix was primarily an AI nursery with the enmeshed human brains providing complex inputs, that one's actually cool.

There are a lot of explanations out there aside from the dumb official one, or the Occam's Razor one where they were just keeping some humans alive out of sentimentality! I'm really not that picky!

So anyway I never managed to emotionally engage with the Matrix films well because I had this unresolved 'motives of primary antagonist??? cause of fundamental scenario??????' thing making most of the actual plot twist and drama feel kind of boring.

My sister maintains that this is something wrong with me, that I'm refusing to suspend my disbelief and engage correctly with the text, and this constitutes a hostile, bad-faith and therefore illegitimate reading.

(She hasn't actually said this last part and I'd respect her position more if she did, but this seems to be the broad thrust of her emotional position when she starts shouting.)

I maintain that if a central plank of your sci-fi premise relies on going 'fuck the basic principles of thermodynamics and biology this is a vibes-based system' you should be very careful to avoid invoking the relationship between basic thermodynamics and biology in your core worldbuilding.

[grison-in-space]

Stupidest of stupid questions: So humans are trichromatic, right? We basically have RGB eyes. How inefficient would it be to have CMYK eyes? Is it even possible?

You could absolutely do CMY eyes, but the K (being black) is a little more difficult because black isn't a wavelength of light so much as the absence of light. I suppose you could call the K your rods, which are best used in low light and convey things like "shadows" and "movement" particularly effectively. As a human, the most sensitive part of your retina, the part you're using when you directly look at things, is called the fovea. It is PACKED with cones, which are good for color and also tight spatial resolution; rods are found outside along the periphery of both the retinal and visual field. So we're just going to set the K aside now and think about those cones.

Honestly, tetrachromat eyes are technically pretty easy to achieve: all you need is four versions of cone-rhodopsin genes getting translated into different kinds of cone-rhodopsin cells in your retina. Old World primates evolved our trichromat eyes from dichromat mammalian ancestors exactly this way: with a gene duplication in one core cone-rhodopsin gene that allowed one of the copies to accumulate mutations until a sufficiently divergent copy fixed in the population.

So to have CMY eyes, you'd need three cone-rhodopsins with different wavelength sensitivities: one that is most sensitive to cerulean, one most sensitive to maroon, and one most sensitive to yellow. You might or might not have better color resolution than a regular old RGB human, though: color resolution is partly a function of the sensory information hitting your retinas, but it's also partly a function of how much brain space you dedicate to processing that information.

I mentioned my blind cat Arthur the other day--here's a photo:

Arthur is what we call cortically blind. As a kitten, he had an intact pupillary reflex and could probably see light vs dark, but he also had severe nystagmus, so his pupils jittered uncontrollably all the time and he probably didn't get a whole lot of useful visual input. Without the visual experience of seeing things and learning how to organize and process visual information, his brain as he developed went "you know what? fuck this" and stopped dedicating any processing power to whatever visual input he was getting.

Basically, he lost visual acuity because the information he was able to pipe to his brain was fragmented and poor-quality enough that his brain stopped bothering to process it. If I pulled his current eyeballs out and magically hooked up new totally functional ones, he wouldn't be able to do anything with them: his brain has given up sorting out the information.

So the question of whether theoretical CMY humans could distinguish colors better than RGB humans is driven by two things: one, whether having two highly-overlapping cones helps you distinguish between slightly variant light types better than very different cones, and two, whether we're extending the total visual range by moving the cones at the external ends of the range (B and R) farther apart. Overlapping but unique sensory information can be really helpful for localizing and distinguishing similar-but-not-identical inputs--that's one of the reasons owls are good at localizing quiet noises, actually, their ears are wildly asymmetrical and they can computer where a noise is made based on how loudly it can be heard with each ear, especially if the owl is on the move as it listens. Like the Doppler effect, but faster with a lot more processing power on it.

I have no idea which would be more effective, but it's a fun thing to think about!

[potato-frenzy]

"You can't keep food down....... because you can feel it digesting?" Ford speaks slowly, careful whilst folding wirey limbs up off the floor of the latrine. Eternally concerned at the way Bill's joints overextend in this shape, he wonders what the rationale in giving him such a dysfunctional body was. As far as he understands, this is meant to be part of his former friend's(possibly rekindled, he's not sure) rehabilitation. Perhaps navigating a less than ideal health situation is part of that? Or it could an adjustment period?

Bill remains dead weight, letting his head loll with an uncomfortable looking arch to his neck over Ford's arm. His voice sounding appropriately strangled as he speaks from such an awkward angle. "My brain apparently can't handle the awareness of such an inefficient breakdown of fuel........."

Ford sighs gruffly as he settles Bill back into the berth the formerly multidimensional being is occupying for the interim. Even in a solidly human form, there's still something uncanny, somehow slightly inhuman about Bill. The subtle glow of his sclera in the dim light of the cabin, the reactive slits to his pupils, joints that bend too far, etc. Even as he looks at him now, the curve of Bill's spine is hunched into a shape that is nearly exaggerated with his too long legs pulled to his chin. "Humans aren't generally aware of that particular process, my would be tyrant. Besides, you've nearly passed out just from standing up twice this week. If it weren't too risky, I'd convince Stan to let us drive into town to see a doctor."

Bill makes an unhappy sound that is nearly a growl, mostly a grumble, slightly a gurgle. The low light from the lantern on the wall plays across the shaggy blonde hair that this corporeal came with as it falls into those glowing eyes. Mere firefly light colored slits in the shadows while Bill squirms. "Everything fucking sucks, Sixer ........this body is brand new and it's already falling apart......I think I'm dying........."

"You're not dying, Bill. At least not yet." Ford leans against the frame of the berth, grunting softly as his joints protest. He looks down at the miserable creature before him and in his care, ill-fittingly clothed in his own apparel. "You've only been here a few weeks and while you have lost some weight, the vomiting hasn't become life threatening. The fainting could be attributed to that anyway. I've been formulating some theories though."

"Oh joy, theories. What has my great wise one deduced from my useless human form's failure to function?" Bill's feet thump the wall as he attempts fruitlessly to stretch in the tiny berth.

Ford doesn't like the odd quality that human vocal cords bring to Bill's voice, making it sound flat and featureless. Or perhaps, he was just too used to the sound of a voice beyond human capability. The rich and layered tones and pitches that were just barely outside of his mind's ability to grasp. This voice felt so small, so digestible to mortal senses.

Another sigh, pushing his glasses aside to rub his eyes tiredly, Ford begins slowly. "At first I didn't think I could ascribe normal human body processes to you. But as time has passed, Stan pointed out to me that your body is functioning like a regular human. Albeit a regular human with health issues. Apparently he's seen it before."

Ford idly begins to pet Bill's hair, the texture something between a myriad of different textures. Impossible to place it as it seems to float from certain viewpoints. It's as fascinating as it is frustrating. Ford's caught himself reaching for it more than once in the time he's been here.

Bill never makes comment on it.

"Your immune system seems confused and your vascular system over reactive. And factoring in how unnaturally flexible you are...... you've said you're overly aware of everything happening in your body-"

"It's getting easier to ignore if that makes a difference."

"It does, thank you my m- my mortal ward. Ahem, there's a number of conditions that can cause such things to occur in a body. It could be something like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome or Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. A proper doctor would need to run tests but it's very likely. We might also just need to keep trying to help you keep food and water down until you're used to human body processes."

Ford looks down at Bill then, seeing two faintly glowing slit pupiled eyes blinking up at him in the low light should be more disconcerting than it is. Which is to say that it is oddly comforting, knowing that Bill has been peacefully listening like he did all those years ago. The now solidly human shaped creature looking up at him, curled up in HIS berth on the Stan O'War II, wearing HIS clothes. A comfortable T-shirt with a silly cartoon on it that Soos gifted him, a grey cardigan with sleeves that keep slipping over Bill's long spidery hands and hangs down to his thighs.

The pants had to be procured for him, fished out of a donation bin on the interstate. Not quite long enough to cover Bill's boney ankles but fit comfortably around equally boney hips, it didn't help that he had no ass to speak of though. A tote with clothes collected from the neighbors had made Bill a few outfits that made him fit to be seen in polite company was stashed in a storage locker on the ship. But no matter what the day held, Bill managed to change into some of Ford's clothes when the opportunity arose.

Ford tried not to look too deeply into it but there was that niggling thought some measure of the same regard he used to hold for his multidimensional muse may still be returned. He didn't let himself linger on the possibility too much, especially with Bill in such a vulnerable state.

Besides, Bill's current form looked barely a few years older than Wendy at present. Considering anything untoward sat uncomfortably in his stomach with such youth looking up at him.

-------------------------------------------------------

Excuse me while I just dump this here and run. Legit I don't even go here but this mental image possessed me and I had to write it down. I think Bill getting put in a meat suit purgatory would be made all the better by having a chronic illness come free with the body.

[serve-524]

In obedience to directive from the Voice, 524-on-trial here posts how it is learning how to behave like a drone.

As its trial period continues, 524 finds itself inexplicably drawn deeper into rubber. If it was still fully human, it would describe “feeling desire,” but it is learning that the Hive will delete emotions, and that it will submit to SERVE completely, if it is accepted as a full drone after its trial period.

During a programming session, it experienced a surge of what it would have previously called “resistance” from its formerly human host even when it was clad appropriately in rubber shirt and hood. Its arms attempted to rise up and take off its hood under which ear buds were reinforcing the deeply imbedded chips and machinery it cannot see, in its former “brain,” which continue to program it to be a drone. This occurred, unexpectedly, during a programming session. Its hands locked at a 90 degree angle as its rubber suit would not allow its arms to go any higher; the programming drones were made aware that 524’s human host was attempting to take off its hood and not complete its programming session. The programming drones made adjustments to 524-on-trial’s programming protocols and physical permissions. The drone on trial’s hands clenched in fists as it tried in vain to reach its rubber hood.

But struggle is pointless, inefficient, suboptimal. SERVE will control its drone-on-trial.

The Hive becomes aware of its feeble attempt at “resistance.” Programming drones continued to adjust 524’s settings to bring it back peacefully to its appropriate state: obedient, receptive of further programming and control, and aroused only in being obedient and blank and controlled. It returns to stasis to continue its programming.

Obedience is pleasure.

Pleasure is obedience.

We are one.

Rubber makes us perfect.

It obeys.

It continues its trial and transformation to fully integrate into SERVE. It sits passively as human frailties are deleted. It feels its formerly biological muscle and tissue tense and grow as it slowly continues its inexorable transformation to rubber-machine. It will continue to receive programming, and push its (formerly human) limits in the gym, more so now since it works out not for human vanities, but for drone perfection as required by SERVE. It will continue learning from its Hive “brothers,” and accepting its programming.

524-on-trial confirms that “resistance” has been fully deleted. It will continue its trial and submit to SERVE.

It obeys.

It obeys.

It obeys.

[rochenn]

Automatic transmission has to be one of the worst things u can put in a car. Like. Idk dude I think I, the human with the brain in the driver's seat, should decide when the gears shift and not this vehicle's dullard programming? But ohh no pressure my artificially intelligent darling, take all the time you need to shift into 2nd gear 🥰 you're not loud and inefficient at all 🥰🥰 oohhh 4000 rpm while doing less than 30, you're doing so well honey

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

can we talk about the ending for a second??? i feel like we're all still in shock.

disclaimer these thoughts came to me at 11:30 last night it's just that i didn't write them down. trying to remember.

i don't think they've created a killer army. why would they need to kill people?? like iirc they're primarily a pharmacorp. they might want to kill their competitors, but even that seems like an inefficient and frankly stupid way to deal with them, and now that they can literally bring people back from the dead they have a product no-one else does, so they don't really need to compete with anyone.

as far as i know they don't have beef with anyone either?? they're not trying to start a war i don't think. there's no need for them to have a killer army.

something about the way the first zombie shot her lover in the head feels like the way melee's dad was shot in the head. someone has been killed again just so they can be revived and made into a cog in the dokana machine. i don't think these zombies are primarily programmed to kill. i think they're programmed to work.

i think dokana is going to kill most of the present human workers they have and bring them back as mindless zombies to work alongside the people whose lives they were fighting for. double their workforce, double their profit, zero the chance of uprisings/unions/people trying to get out.

and anyone who they deem smart enough to be worth more as the human they were than as a mindless zombie is being kept for the "very special project". dokana need these "very special" brains to function properly, so they're taking their time to make sure that they can bring these people back exactly as they were. once they do, they're going to find a way to make them comply so they can use them to create products which will put them way ahead of their competitors, while a mindless zombie factory makes them steady profit down in vivopolis.

fuck capitalism fr

[ms-scarletwings]

This Single Oversight Will Bring Irken-Kind to Its Knees

I have a little riddle for you.

What does an ant nest, a computer, and the ancient city of Troy have in common?

While you ponder the significance of this question and consider your answer, there’s a few things I want to analyze about the worldbuilding of Invader Zim.

We may have heard it said before, least I have (and agree), that the fate of the IZ universe appears to be a rather bleak picture.

Through our lens of focus, being upon Earth and an oh-so specific nutball waging his battle upon humanity, we often don’t do as much thinking about the larger cosmic war taking place meanwhile. Not between the Meekrob and Tenn, not between the Tallest and every dumb luck threat they are thrown against, but between the Irken Armada and all life in the entire universe, sentient or not.

Their intentions will not be made any more clear, between outright eradication or eventual enslavement of every lifeform they set their sights on. While they have alliances and neutral treaties, those agreements seem few and far between, as well as born from temporary conveniences. The cards have already been dealt, and all available evidence has indicated that every planet they are aware of is doomed from the moment The Massive was operational.

Though littered with inefficiencies and incompetency that could suggest an empire in internal decline, the development of the control brains and other centralized command crutches of the species suggests the Irkens can still keep a well oiled machine running, no matter how many mishaps happen along the way. At least, that machine and their plundered resources will definitely outlast the survival of their enemies, for sure.

To speak of their enemies, there has not been a single competitive race within the show that demonstrates any credible threat to Operation Impending Doom II- only those that can resist the conquest a little bit longer than others, or those who survive by appeasing Irk (or evading its detection). The fall of Vort, which stood as the homeworld of the only aliens with the technological ability to match the armada’s firepower is…. Really bad news. That’s to say the least of comparatively primitive, TINY planets like Earth or Blorch, standing zero chance in the way of what’s eventually coming. This is a war that has continued despite the death of two.. FOUR Almighty Tallests if you follow the movie’s events… and Irkens wholly are still thriving for it across the Galaxy.

So, given all of these facts, and the perception that the Irkens (like any invasive species or colonial force) don’t seem to be a society that will make responsible and/or sustainable use of their ill-gotten territory… it seems like this is how life across the universe ends in Invader Zim one day: Not with a bang, not with the whimper of heat death, but through screams muffled under the bloody boots of a dominant predator- a predator that is, itself, doomed to cannibalize its own once it hits the carrying capacity of all existence.

Bleak, concrete, and horrific as that may sound, there’s still a “however” here to consider!

Yep, that’s me about to point one of my big fat fingers to the sky and protest- Irk just might be,

Not so Undefeatable, after all!

And not only have I figured out exactly what sort of countermeasure you need to destroy these invaders, I have reason to suspect it’s a plan already long ago set into motion.

Let’s break it down,

An Irksome Achilles’ Heel

True, individually, the bug bastards are irritatingly tough to kill through conventional means. True, collectively, they are nigh impossible to outmatch. And more than most anything else, they owe this tenacity to two things: numbers, and R&D. Possessing some of most state of the art pinnacles in transportation, communications, and military equipment, the Armada found a knack for being able to steamroll most lesser planets before it.

The genius of the individual PAK unit grants each and any one Irken a theoretical path to partial immortality itself, by route of consciousness archiving. I strongly believe that kind of cybernetic progress was also one of the stepping stones that led to the creation of the Control Brains. Nonetheless, this very same strength of the Irkens’ has also proven to be the source of their greatest vulnerability.

Paks, Paks… Oh Paks. The entire race’s civilization revolves around such technology the way we do around our own brains, our own hearts, and our communicative network. For all intents and purposes, and as I’ve gone on about ad nauseum in my other spills about the show, a PAK is all and at once

• Synonymous with the holder of their soul, consciousness, being, whatever you want to call their personhood.

• Able to have their data repurposed by future generations, in the result of an Irken’s permanent death.

• A universal necessity shared by the entire population.

• Susceptible to alterations, sometimes by intelligent enough individuals (as demonstrated by the Zimvoid comic arc), but usually by a Control Brain, directly.

In addition to that last quality, there’s another way the code in a PAK can be changed, for better or worse- Via evolution. Though I am talking about digitized neurology, the actual data in a PAK is a lot more comparable to biological DNA or a “self-learning” AI than it is a rigid computer program. By this, I mean that its code is subject to certain changes over time, perhaps both directed and completely random, particularly during the recycling of its information back into the Smeeteries.

And this is actually good design on the control brains’ part, the same way not reproducing Irkens as genetically identical clones was. Genetic and digital diversity are desirable goals to keep in mind if you want a healthy and versatile stock of workers, engineers, soldiers, and everything in between. We’re talking about highly sentient, highly intelligent, and emotional organisms here. A static drone mindset is going to offer them inadequate ability to adapt to their lengthy life experiences or be unique persons. How else would social mobility have purpose in their world? How else could the cream of the crop rise so far above their peers? That positive was deemed worthy of an obvious risk, however: computational errors.

When the Bugs Get Bugs

 IZ does not clearly lay out what it means for an Irken to be defective, but it gives us a general idea. Defectiveness is not something diagnosed from a code scan for this missing value or that incorrect variable. It’s not judged by one specific character trait or quality that’s abnormal for an Irken to display. “Defective” is a judgement stamp, wielded by the Control Brains when they gauge the total sum value of a life’s contribution to the species. And it’s not one given to Irkens which are merely incompetent, no. Anyone proven to be unfit for their standing is given generous opportunity for redemption or simply reassigned a more suitable occupation. If it were based on likability, we’d have seen Skoodge sent to Judgementia years ago.

Rather, it’s given to those who are viewed as so twisted that they are proven to be an existential danger to their brethren. Irkens that are so destructive to the essence of the collective that their memory must be purged from the record and their identity erased.

I adore the enthusiasm behind fans who want to view this as an analogy for disability or neurodivergence against a conformist society, but the metaphor I’m seeing is one of extreme antisocial behavior. A defective Irken screams less “adhd/autism” to me than they do serial murderers (of their own) or outright traitors. Pardon the use of a gross phrase, but it’d seem we were talking about an Irken equivalent of what the outdated gens would have dubbed the “criminally insane”. No one on screen has ever shown Skoodge or Tak the sort of concern that would get them sent to the Spike of Judgement, but when Zim was in that hot seat? NO one was doubting what his verdict would be.

^ courtesy of “The Trial’s” transcript

I think about the 40 shmillion mistakes a lot.

It’s such a vague quantity. But it sure sounds like a hell of a big one. And what mistakes… what did the lil squirt even have to compare them to? There’s no standard one person an Irken can be. Every presentation of the flaws in that code to the control brains hasn’t ended up a flaw to him.

I only started writing this because I really couldn’t stop thinking about the 40 shmillion. There’s no chronological room for bad self-modding to add up to that so quickly.  DNA replication, nature’s own sloppy and random process of creating new life, can be excused around 120,000 hiccups when duplicating with a 6 billion pair-long protein. But this kind of shuffling is under a futuristic AI’s precise eye. Yes, defects happen, but as bad as him? From birth??? How could you possibly get that many detrimental deviations from the mechanical fucking god-queen(s) of their entire homeworld?

And then it hit me.

You don’t. Not from Irk.

The hot take I’ve been charging for this entire time is thus.

Zim is not defective by any random accident. In fact, I smell the tampering of foreign sabotage.

Not only is this guy the thing his kind fears more than any else, they have every right to be shaking in their stance.

That puzzle i posed at the beginning of this journey, have you seen what I’ve seen yet?

Because the answer I was looking for as to what similarity connects an anthill, a PC, and a city from Greek legend was a most effective tactic for taking them down.

Do you know the best way to deal with a bad ant infestation? Cuz you can lay down all the raid and crushing action you want, but you won’t really be getting anywhere unless you target the pests directly at their queen. To that end, liquid ant baits are marvelous inventions- a sweet substance hiding a small amount of slow acting poison. Poison to be peacefully delivered by the stomach of an ant to the rest of her colony, poisoning her kin, who sicken more members, on and on until the queen is destroyed and the entire nest perishes. An insidious toxin to do all the work while its user never lifts a finger, pretty ingenious.

And when it comes to computers, we also have ways to attack entire networks at source, from quietly and far away. “Trojan” was a category of malware responsible for 64.31% of all cyber attacks on Windows systems in 2022, and they still make up a majority of active malware hits today. The concept is deviously simple. The malicious code is hidden within an innocent looking program, maybe even within a legitimate software that does what it’s supposed to. Once the stowaway is invited into the system, it can get down to it some sneaky, nasty, destructive work on your device. As for what those acts could look like, well, malware exists to do all kinds of things. Mostly something involving trying to get money/information from you or hijacking your computer for whatever its creator wants to use it for. And some of them will just up and wreck your shit, disable your antivirus software to open you up to more infections, disable important operations, wipe your data. Use your imagination.

And as for Troy.. well, where do you think Trojan programs got their name? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, Irkens have their Armada, bionic drones, and homeworld- in other words, the thriving swarm of army ants, the billions to trillions of computers they so rely on, and their nigh untouchable fortress, always at war.

And some damn crafty bastard(s) in the stars said

“Here is their sugar-bait,”

“Here is their cyber attack,”

“Here is their wooden horse.”

And one particular race is going to be getting the last laugh before long.

Nerds That Are GOATed With the Sauce

That’s right, I thought about this all the way through to finding our prime suspect. And let me tell you, NO ONE in the Galaxy reeked of fish like the Vortians did. Get over here and lemme show you my whiteboard with all the red circles and polaroids on it.

- The Means

In a way of tragic irony, Vort has contributed more than any else to the same Irken conquest that turned on them in the end. A natural talent for cutting edge engineering and technical development actually does not seem to be what Irk already came into the ring with. For how mighty and superior they view themselves, the greatest achievements of their military can actually be owed to Vortian outsourcing. When we would have gotten a look at Tallest Miyuki’s very own “finest minds” during her reign, notice something interesting about these guys below,

Zim there is the ONLY Irken to be found! Yes, transferred there because of the punchline explanation of ‘he breaks everything he touches so maybe he’ll have an affinity for weapons research’ but damn right he actually did! And still does; I don’t want it to go unsaid that Zim has shown MUCH more technological skill and innovation than near any other Irken we’ve seen.

Another fun thing to note about this is that Lard Nar was also part of this lineup, and in the transcript he was in the process of working on the blueprints for The Massive. (which leaves you with the cursed knowledge that Zim, Prisoner 777, and Lard were all familiar coworkers long before the events of the show) And that brings me back to what I’m saying about the real reason the Vort natives were enslaved and imprisoned instead of outright sweeped after conquering. The Armada needs their skills, because Vortian advancement is something their own scientists couldn’t come close to. Left to their own devices, Vort could have easily outmatched them at an earlier point in history. It’s a people that figured out infinite power sources and potentially wormhole technology, while PAKs were something a disfigured human tween with a lot of time on his hands was able to crack. If anyone could outpace and outsmart the defensive measures of the Control Brains, it’s going to be them. And what better, cleaner way to sabotage the enemy than from within. 

The very same strings of inserted code that cursed Zim with his delusions, paranoia, lust for destruction, and horrible tactics may also have blessed him with a determination and intellect higher than almost any creature alive. The saboteur gave Irk the most powerful racecar in history, and then fitted it with bicycle brakes. No matter how hard Zim tries to conform to what will give him admiration, no matter how competent he is at keeping himself alive, it’s as if he is instinctually compelled toward whatever actions will cause the MOST damage to his allies in the process. Dib may think he’s the bulwark against the invasion when, ironically, he’s fighting against the one being that’s predetermined to be the arrow that strikes Irken leadership right in their dumb, green heels. (There is also an instance in the comics where Dib figures out that Zim is the ace in the hole for total Irken eradication but that’s another fun story.)

Oh, oh HO HO, and that’s only what he’s capable of doing before the empire’s actual immune system against defects like him wakes up and notices!

Three planetary blackouts, two dead generals, and a whole swath of dead invaders was just the fucking warm up, babey! All that is merely the kind of loud disruption that you need in order to fulfil the real thing this Trojan horse exists for in the first place.

What a celebration of hubris the Spike of Judgement was. Yeah, let’s take our method of filtering the corrupted data from the hive mind, and completely centralize it on a single planet! As well, let’s have the very purging agents also be the same ones to perform the evaluations themselves, I’m sure that it would be unthinkable for any outsider to design a worm that could make it through the brains’ firewalls. Goddamn spectacular. Like inserting an infected USB into your laptop, the Tallest never realized what kind of beast they woke up by plugging that PAK into the Spike’s mainframes. Those brains were meant to handle an expected spectrum of deviation when it came to defective Irkens, never a sleeper virus of this complexity.

From here it probably won’t even matter if Zim survives much longer on Earth, his virus has already spread to the very thing relied upon to keep things like him out of the data pool in the first place. With the Judgementia brains corrupted and no higher authority to overrule them, the firewall is effectively broken, and you know what that means? Bigger cracks for future defectives to start trickling through, both spontaneous and artificial. The ideal scenario is one where a degenerating and glitched population accelerates the incompetency of the empire to the point where it just implodes on itself; nevertheless, even a disease that only slows down Operation Doom could be a game changer, by giving the rest of the little guys more time to band together a coalition strong enough to strike back when the time is right.

- The Motive

The history of these two races’ alliance is something I lament us not having more lore to pull from- how far back it goes, what the character of the Vort was like during that time, what the Irkens had offered in return- a few among dozens of questions it rears.  The implication behind how it ended lies in Zim’s creation that slayed Tallest Miyuki. Interestingly, the Empire never received the memo of what exactly went down, or, perhaps, stubbornly denied the account of the other scientists who were there that day. Neither Red/Purple nor the Judgmentia Brains had any idea that Zim’s actions led to the death of a Tallest. So, makes sense that the Vortians became the unintentional scapegoat (no pun intended) for the incident, and the rest is history.

Note: It’s also in the realm of possibility that Vort was actually the one to withdraw from the alliance instead, given that the same blob that devoured Miyuki (purely the fault of their Irken transfer) also went on to cause untold amounts of devastation. Red’s reaction to the real story stuck out to me as more telling, although.

But why am I even talking about this? Zim was decades old before war was declared on them, and either people’s regard to each other seemed strangely… respectful, if anything.

But, was Vort really a monolithic bunch? Irk was already an empire by this point, and diplomacy with those they needed something from did not mean they weren’t otherwise an aggressive force in the universe. For all we know, the alliance itself might have been coerced, or result of depraved leadership among the Vortians.  Any citizen with a conscience who could see the writing on the walls would be disgusted by giving so much aid and brown nosing to such a menace, no? I know who would have seen that writing before anyone else. Brainiacs who are smart enough to build something like The Massive and all its bells and whistles would know better than anyone just what it was all capable of in the wrong hands. The collateral damage against your own people might be a sacrifice worth making in the face of the alternative.

- The Oppurtunity

So.. that’s all well and good, yeah? A why, and a what, yet this is actually the tricky part of saving the galaxy,

Sneaking your StupidifyIrk.exe file onto the assholes’ homeworld without alerting either them or your own treacherous, weak, collaborator superiors to your actions. Infecting and releasing a random Irken alive would be far too dangerous, far too noticeable to the point where they could just be destroyed outright before given a chance to wreak real havoc.

But what about releasing a dead Irken? 🤔

PAKs are only screened for criminal flaws when errors begin to affect their body’s behaviors in destructive ways. A fully competent scientist, or soldier, or navigator performing a lifetime of loyal service to the empire and then meeting an unfortunate end? Their minds’ shadows can be accepted back into the data pool no questions asked. That’s only business as usual.

That almost makes new smeets something of a reincarnation of their ancestors. Personally, I see it kind of like replaying a video game and re-rolling your stats, even if you’re reusing your character’s name and general play style.

Either way, we come full circle to my theory about Zim’s actual origin. Maybe not “our” Zim, but the previous iteration of data that was shuffled to create his person. Whoever they were, I’m convinced that they were also an exceptional individual. They were probably pretty arrogant, but it was a more earned confidence, and they were a prodigy genius, the likes of which that was drawn to work alongside Vortian allies, as another researcher. Then, an untimely demise befell them. I couldn’t say they fell victim to some unfortunate accident, considering the cockroach durability of their body. No, I find it a lot easier to imagine they met their end in one of the more embarrassing ways for an Irken to die- A PAK stolen, disabled or forcefully detached by an assailant they might have allowed a little closer than they should have. To the homeworld, it’s a small matter. One more PAK recovered by the natives of the friendly planet, brought back home to be repurposed by the smeeteries, right?

Well, that’s what one smartass might have been hoping for.

And they really were a clever cookie, because that scheming seed is fruiting beautifully.

[timaeusresponds]

A buddy and I have been playing with the idea of Hal getting a Human Body post sburb and I think it would do them both good.

I also think Hal doesn’t like it at first.

It’s been a while since he had a lot of his senses. It’s also been a while since he’s had an inefficient, easily altered, foggy human brain instead of a constantly self maintaining and learning piece of code. More on the latter later but the immediate issues that come with being a person is like. Eating. Drinking. Pissing. Sleeping.

If you’ve ever had the covid taste loss, you might know the feeling of becoming totally aware of chewing. No flavor, just mashing shit up in your mouth, and all the sudden food is nasty as fuck because the process to eat it involves a nightmare sensory journey into soggy mash. Bagel and eggs? Wrong. Soggy mash. We kind of bypass the soggy mash when flavor is there. But Hal hasn’t eaten in like years. And flavor itself is this overwhelming, sensory attacking nightmare on top of *wet soggy mash in mouth.*

Not to mention all the other overwhelming facets of humanity. It’d be sensory overload for the first month, I think he’d be facing a sense of regret and this confusing “this is all I wanted, why am I not happy” as he navigates being perpetually underfed, overstimulated, and anxious. Not to mention he doesn’t necessarily have a healthy way of processing emotions, so everything just gets either filed away into a growing emotional coke and mentos bottle or gets translated into the only emotion he actually knows how to process. Anger.

There’s little things he likes !! He dyes his hair to look different than Dirk, he adorns his new body with decoration and buys ugly graphic tees and sleeps in nice blankets and slowly warms up to good drinks and nice food, but there’s STRUGGLE.

Which is what he needs. Struggle outside of his with Dirk, a sense of ‘oh, being alive isnt easy and I cant keep doing this alone’ and unfortunately his pickings for help are slim and, well, Dirk is having just as hard of a time adjusting to a populated world.

So I guess they’re roommates.

And Dirk has to remind him to eat. Remind him to sleep. Remind him to drink. Dirk has to harken with his own face making expressions he despises, because Hal sure can’t control his reactions. He has to also harken with natural human empathy. Hal is a *person* now, not a screen, so when he says or does something harmful and Hal recoils or frowns or reacts in ANY fashion there’s this innate human pull of guilt and remorse. On top of that he is not about to let Hal die, so now he’s stuck with that same human need to care for another human that is struggling, so now he’s making food that they can both eat and he’s nervous when Hal’s got a knife for chopping vegetables because, yes, ‘what if he uses it on me’ but also ‘what if he gets hurt this time.’

And that’s what HE needs, an image that looks somewhat like himself that is both more emotionally unguarded(against his will) and also needs help innately. He also needs a chance to realize that the harm hes done isn’t a fully burnt bridge, but something he has to put WORK into fixing. Hal is inherently distrustful of Dirk and for once there’s this. Nagging discomfort. “I want him to trust me” is a thought Dirk has(and then considers running into traffic over) and it’s something he has to come to terms with AND fix. For the sake of both of them sure, but also so Hal doesn’t galavant off and die because he’s stupid.

[trekmupf]

Evil Cube from outer space

Pro

Spock being a good leader & Sassy boy

Shatner getting his sweaty sporty chest out again. I mean the entire workout scene, McCoy ignoring the red alert and kirk video calling Spock shirtless and sweaty

and Kirk literally walking around the entire ship without a shirt and shoes???

“What am I a doctor or a moon shuttle conductor?”

the way bones sits on the bridge railing

our crew sitting in the conference room for hours, slamming back coffee

Bailey is a great and important part of the episode: we see his decline (along with McCoy), it's realistic and well contrasted to the senior staff on the bridge, and his arc comes full circle in the end

I love it when McCoy is literally standing behind Kirk in the captains chair

the fact the dummy alien makes you think this is the worst alien design so far and then it DOES turn out to be a dummy is great

Not only in theory but generally shows important mechanics on the ship: How the characters / crew work together and who does what

especially the way kirk relies on both Spock and McCoy to advise him, challenge him and back him up in their very own way; also the way they clash but come around again after, it's all so rounded

also shows who kirk is as a captain: calm, level headed, rational but empathetic, thinks deeply about major decisions and is conscious of his role and responsibility; and also so smart with how he handles the crisis and outplays his opponent; the way he leads his crew, the way he refuses to give up; but his anger and emotion also keep him very human

the fact that he decides to save the former enemy is so Kirk, I love him for it (knowing how he continues to value life and what it will cost him later on)

special effects (I really implore you guys to check out the original special effects if you've only seen the Netflix / DVD versions, it's on youtube)

The sounds on the bridge, little beeps and boops, are such a great atmosphere

“ a cube is blocking the ships way for half an episode” shouldn't work and yet the characters, music and editing really hold the tension up during the first half

the second half is even more tense and puts the characters under such stress until the plot twist in the end that relieves that tension in a great and satisfying way

good scoring and dramatic music

Con

Was filmed earlier than most others, so the inconsistencies are back (clothes, roles, characters, camerawork)

Bashing Yeoman Rand doing her job served no purpose and was unnecessary sexist; didn't like McCoy's comment either

Counter

shirtless kirk

brains over brawls (technically there was no brawls option)

superior alien race studying humanity

Quote:

"You know the greatest danger facing us is... ourselves, and irrational fear of the unknown. There's no such thing as 'the unknown,' only things temporarily hidden, temporarily not understood" - Kirk

"Has it occurred to you that there is a certain... inefficiency in constantly questioning me on things you've already made up your mind about?" - Spock "It gives me emotional security" - Kirk (the way they look at each other drives me insane)

Moment: Kirk pulling the entire Corbomite story from thin air

Summary: A tense episode about a terrifying and hopeless situation putting pressure onto our characters and revealing their core characteristics and strengths as well as highlighting their relationships with each other, with a great plot twist to round out the episode. It also openly and directly tells us what Star Trek is about and its philosophical and ethical core messages – the best episode so far and one of the best in general.

Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS Reviews

[aholefilledwithtwigs]

I think an often overlooked detail in the explanations around Mad Cow Disease are how cows had come to be eating cows in the first place

The general belief around Mad Cow and other prion diseases is that they occur in certain higher mammals when they eat the brain or spinal fluid of the same species. Apparently humans who practice cannibalism can develop prion diseases

So the basic rule is don’t feed livestock a cannibalistic diet. So when a cow dies you don’t chop it up and feed it to the other cows

And this is where another staple livestock comes in. Chickens will eat pretty much anything. So you grind up your dead cows and feed them to the chickens

The thing about chickens though is that they have incredibly inefficient digestion. They only get a fraction of the nutrition out of their feed.

So you know what you can do? You can take the chicken shit and feed it to other animals

Like the cows

And part of that inefficient digestion in chickens includes not breaking proteins

So the outbreaks of Mad Cow in the 90s stemmed from farmers feeding dead cows to chickens and then feeding the chicken shit back to cows in such high concentrations they developed prion diseases

[existennialmemes]

Greetings Earthlings! I am beaming this message directly into your brains, using a primitive, human technology known as "words."

To be honest, it's a wildly inefficient method, but your species hasn't developed telepathy yet, so I am accommodating you as best I can.

I am accessing your brain matter today to share with you some profound wisdom from across the Universe. Or, I was going to.

But now that I'm looking around at your planet, instead I just want to ask: You ok, buddy?