#medical automation share

[neha24blog]

Medical Automation Market Segmented On The Basis Of Application, End-Use, Region And Forecast 2030: Grand View Research Inc.

San Francisco, 6 March 2023: The Report Medical Automation Market Size, Share & Trends Analysis Report By Application (Imaging Automation, Therapeutic Automation, Laboratory & Pharmacy Automation), By End Use, By Region, And Segment Forecasts, 2023 – 2030 The global medical automation market size is anticipated to reach USD 88.11 billion by 2030, according to a new report by Grand View Research,…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The real AI fight

Tonight (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Last week's spectacular OpenAI soap-opera hijacked the attention of millions of normal, productive people and nonsensually crammed them full of the fine details of the debate between "Effective Altruism" (doomers) and "Effective Accelerationism" (AKA e/acc), a genuinely absurd debate that was allegedly at the center of the drama.

Very broadly speaking: the Effective Altruists are doomers, who believe that Large Language Models (AKA "spicy autocomplete") will someday become so advanced that it could wake up and annihilate or enslave the human race. To prevent this, we need to employ "AI Safety" – measures that will turn superintelligence into a servant or a partner, nor an adversary.

Contrast this with the Effective Accelerationists, who also believe that LLMs will someday become superintelligences with the potential to annihilate or enslave humanity – but they nevertheless advocate for faster AI development, with fewer "safety" measures, in order to produce an "upward spiral" in the "techno-capital machine."

Once-and-future OpenAI CEO Altman is said to be an accelerationists who was forced out of the company by the Altruists, who were subsequently bested, ousted, and replaced by Larry fucking Summers. This, we're told, is the ideological battle over AI: should cautiously progress our LLMs into superintelligences with safety in mind, or go full speed ahead and trust to market forces to tame and harness the superintelligences to come?

This "AI debate" is pretty stupid, proceeding as it does from the foregone conclusion that adding compute power and data to the next-word-predictor program will eventually create a conscious being, which will then inevitably become a superbeing. This is a proposition akin to the idea that if we keep breeding faster and faster horses, we'll get a locomotive:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

As Molly White writes, this isn't much of a debate. The "two sides" of this debate are as similar as Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Yes, they're arrayed against each other in battle, so furious with each other that they're tearing their hair out. But for people who don't take any of this mystical nonsense about spontaneous consciousness arising from applied statistics seriously, these two sides are nearly indistinguishable, sharing as they do this extremely weird belief. The fact that they've split into warring factions on its particulars is less important than their unified belief in the certain coming of the paperclip-maximizing apocalypse:

https://newsletter.mollywhite.net/p/effective-obfuscation

White points out that there's another, much more distinct side in this AI debate – as different and distant from Dee and Dum as a Beamish Boy and a Jabberwork. This is the side of AI Ethics – the side that worries about "today’s issues of ghost labor, algorithmic bias, and erosion of the rights of artists and others." As White says, shifting the debate to existential risk from a future, hypothetical superintelligence "is incredibly convenient for the powerful individuals and companies who stand to profit from AI."

After all, both sides plan to make money selling AI tools to corporations, whose track record in deploying algorithmic "decision support" systems and other AI-based automation is pretty poor – like the claims-evaluation engine that Cigna uses to deny insurance claims:

https://www.propublica.org/article/cigna-pxdx-medical-health-insurance-rejection-claims

On a graph that plots the various positions on AI, the two groups of weirdos who disagree about how to create the inevitable superintelligence are effectively standing on the same spot, and the people who worry about the actual way that AI harms actual people right now are about a million miles away from that spot.

There's that old programmer joke, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand binary and those who don't." But of course, that joke could just as well be, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't understand either":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/11/the-ten-types-of-people/

What's more, the joke could be, "there are 10 kinds of people, those who understand hexadecenary, those who understand pentadecenary, those who understand tetradecenary [und so weiter] those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't." That is to say, a "polarized" debate often has people who hold positions so far from the ones everyone is talking about that those belligerents' concerns are basically indistinguishable from one another.

The act of identifying these distant positions is a radical opening up of possibilities. Take the indigenous philosopher chief Red Jacket's response to the Christian missionaries who sought permission to proselytize to Red Jacket's people:

https://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5790/

Red Jacket's whole rebuttal is a superb dunk, but it gets especially interesting where he points to the sectarian differences among Christians as evidence against the missionary's claim to having a single true faith, and in favor of the idea that his own people's traditional faith could be co-equal among Christian doctrines.

The split that White identifies isn't a split about whether AI tools can be useful. Plenty of us AI skeptics are happy to stipulate that there are good uses for AI. For example, I'm 100% in favor of the Human Rights Data Analysis Group using an LLM to classify and extract information from the Innocence Project New Orleans' wrongful conviction case files:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

Automating "extracting officer information from documents – specifically, the officer's name and the role the officer played in the wrongful conviction" was a key step to freeing innocent people from prison, and an LLM allowed HRDAG – a tiny, cash-strapped, excellent nonprofit – to make a giant leap forward in a vital project. I'm a donor to HRDAG and you should donate to them too:

https://hrdag.networkforgood.com/

Good data-analysis is key to addressing many of our thorniest, most pressing problems. As Ben Goldacre recounts in his inaugural Oxford lecture, it is both possible and desirable to build ethical, privacy-preserving systems for analyzing the most sensitive personal data (NHS patient records) that yield scores of solid, ground-breaking medical and scientific insights:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-eaV8SWdjQ

The difference between this kind of work – HRDAG's exoneration work and Goldacre's medical research – and the approach that OpenAI and its competitors take boils down to how they treat humans. The former treats all humans as worthy of respect and consideration. The latter treats humans as instruments – for profit in the short term, and for creating a hypothetical superintelligence in the (very) long term.

As Terry Pratchett's Granny Weatherwax reminds us, this is the root of all sin: "sin is when you treat people like things":

https://brer-powerofbabel.blogspot.com/2009/02/granny-weatherwax-on-sin-favorite.html

So much of the criticism of AI misses this distinction – instead, this criticism starts by accepting the self-serving marketing claim of the "AI safety" crowd – that their software is on the verge of becoming self-aware, and is thus valuable, a good investment, and a good product to purchase. This is Lee Vinsel's "Criti-Hype": "taking press releases from startups and covering them with hellscapes":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Criti-hype and AI were made for each other. Emily M Bender is a tireless cataloger of criti-hypeists, like the newspaper reporters who breathlessly repeat " completely unsubstantiated claims (marketing)…sourced to Altman":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464030855880383

Bender, like White, is at pains to point out that the real debate isn't doomers vs accelerationists. That's just "billionaires throwing money at the hope of bringing about the speculative fiction stories they grew up reading – and philosophers and others feeling important by dressing these same silly ideas up in fancy words":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464024432217299

All of this is just a distraction from real and important scientific questions about how (and whether) to make automation tools that steer clear of Granny Weatherwax's sin of "treating people like things." Bender – a computational linguist – isn't a reactionary who hates automation for its own sake. On Mystery AI Hype Theater 3000 – the excellent podcast she co-hosts with Alex Hanna – there is a machine-generated transcript:

https://www.buzzsprout.com/2126417

There is a serious, meaty debate to be had about the costs and possibilities of different forms of automation. But the superintelligence true-believers and their criti-hyping critics keep dragging us away from these important questions and into fanciful and pointless discussions of whether and how to appease the godlike computers we will create when we disassemble the solar system and turn it into computronium.

The question of machine intelligence isn't intrinsically unserious. As a materialist, I believe that whatever makes me "me" is the result of the physics and chemistry of processes inside and around my body. My disbelief in the existence of a soul means that I'm prepared to think that it might be possible for something made by humans to replicate something like whatever process makes me "me."

Ironically, the AI doomers and accelerationists claim that they, too, are materialists – and that's why they're so consumed with the idea of machine superintelligence. But it's precisely because I'm a materialist that I understand these hypotheticals about self-aware software are less important and less urgent than the material lives of people today.

It's because I'm a materialist that my primary concerns about AI are things like the climate impact of AI data-centers and the human impact of biased, opaque, incompetent and unfit algorithmic systems – not science fiction-inspired, self-induced panics over the human race being enslaved by our robot overlords.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[specialagentartemis]

regarding your utopian book idea, i've had this idea for a story (in my head it's a tv show but lets be real it's staying in my brain forever) about criminals in a super powered setting going through a restorative justice system, and all the ways that it can be messy as hell.

Like their core belief of "if the worst mass murderer in human history (immortal OC) can take just one step back from the edge, anyone can, over and over again, and we have a duty to help them do it" is *true*, but it is not easy, or even logistically possible in some cases. And human cognition and psychology is so messy and it is human nature to fuck up and there is just. a lot.

anyways just wanted to share i got excited when i saw your post i too. like to think about things.

So many utopian stories I read (and granted, I haven't read a lot, but I've read several) are clearly aiming to imagine a nice and peaceful world, a perfect society one where we believe in restorative justice and all that... but utterly fail to imagine how it would work if it was populated with real human beings, so everyone in the story is incredibly homogeneous and Just Nice. There's no conflict because everybody does the right thing the first time - and if there is any conflict, it's quickly resolved through talking about it and everyone apologizes and makes up within 24 hours. No real differences of opinion exist, and nobody ever does anything actually bad.

It's frequently boring even at the best of times, and at its worst, it does the opposite of the "inspiring hope!" that it intends to do - it makes me cynical. It makes me think, gotcha, you think peace is only possible if everybody has the exact same attitudes and beliefs and personalities and holds no strong opinions because that's the only way to eliminate conflict. That doesn't inspire hope - if anything it inspires despair, because that is not going to happen.

So I would be so interested in a story like this, that takes on the ideals of restorative justice and rehabilitation head-on, that goes, okay, how will this actually work? When people do bad things - and they will - even in a society that raises and educates children to have respect for each other well, that has eliminated structural bigotry, that has eliminated capitalism and poverty, that has a flourishing artistic scene where anyone can express themselves, that has guaranteed food and housing and medical care for everyone with no strings attached, that has the enshrined right and structural support for people (including children) to leave situations they don't want to be in, that has most hard-labor and exploitative jobs replaced by automation - what is the actual response? Even in such a society, some people will still hurt other people. It will happen. There has never been a society on Earth where people didn't hurt other people sometimes. There will be people who want incompatible things. There will be resources that more people want than can have. There will be conflicts that need to be addressed and managed. And obviously writers aren't obligated to solve every world problem perfectly (if it were easy, we'd have done it by now), but attempts at writing utopia that simply go "no there won't!" are both boring and dishonest.

All of that is to say: I would love to watch this hypothetical show, to see a genuine attempt at grappling with such a theme!

[askviktor]

Apologies if this subject is too personal for you to speak on, but I'm not acquainted with anyone who's designed or built their own mobility aids, so I'm fascinated by what you've done with yours. I'd like to ask:

How long has it been since you began developing your cane? What about your bracing system?

What kind of research and testing went into that process?

It looks like there's some custom-fitted pieces of leather and metalwork in your current setup. Did you commission any of those, or did you fabricate them yourself?

What's the maintenance like?

And finally, can you share any first-hand experiences with accessibility barriers in Piltover or Zaun? How do you expect those barriers to change as your support needs increase and your mobility aids evolve?

Thanks for everything you do!

Sincerely, a physio nerd

On the contrary, in my opinion, discussion of disability lessens the stigma surrounding it.

I suppose I have been developing it since childhood. My first was simply wooden, with added ergonomic adjustments to the handle. I paid more attention to my other creations, applying scientific methodology to the likes of automated toy vehicles. I did not conduct “tests,” as it were.

I received various mobility aids from doctors in Piltover during my time at the Academy. But, in recent years, my condition has called for more intricate, personalized care; it is comparable to your Post-Polio Syndrome, though more likely more aggressive. After the installation of my permanent back and leg brace - developed by medical professionals - Jayce presented me with a crutch tailored to my needs. I was shocked, to say the least, but apparently he had been observing me and developing it for some time. I did initially find this upsetting. But I am, of course, quite grateful for his thoughtfulness today.

Several months later, we developed and tested an additional leg brace aid my mobility on more, eh, difficult days. While the maintenance of these devices is manageable, I admittedly miss more medical appointments than not. Such fuss, and for what?

I have made my and Jayce’s mobility designs open to the public for free use. My greatest hope is to use my current research on the Hexcore to allow profoundly disabled individuals - especially those in Zaun who face greater challenges - to interact with their environment with intuitive ease, the arcane adapting to the needs of their bodies regardless of environmental accessibility.

[sigmaleph]

It is The Future.

(not the future I think is going to happen. just one story we could tell about The Future)

The overwhelming majority of humanity spends their life inside virtual reality pods, that cater to every need of their body while their mind experiences a simulated world of their choice.

Not isolated worlds, of course. You can meet other real people inside VR, become friends, fall in love, start a family, even (your child will be assigned a pod of their own, when they are born). You can do whatever you want, inside the simulated reality; learn how to craft simulated worlds of your own, or anything else you want to learn. All the knowledge of humanity is freely at your disposal.

You don't have to stay in the pod. You can get a real apartment in a real city, eat real food, meet real people in the flesh... if you can afford to. Your pod, the medical care it provides you, its connection to the hypernet and the computational power to run your simulation, they are all cheap. Your basic income, your fair share of the resources of humanity due to you simply for being human, covers for it with a little bit left over. But reality is scarce.

If you are lucky, perhaps you have some incredibly valuable skill that people are willing to pay for. But most aren't that lucky. Most labour has been automated. There's still stuff to do, for a human, but odds it's not going to be emotionally fulfilling and you're going to work long hours to be able to afford a life outside of a pod.

Maybe you can save up, for a while, living a cheap pod life and doing the occasional odd job and you might be able to spend a week out of the year in some real-world location; many people do just that. But whatever you experienced outside in the world, you could have had something experientially identical from inside VR. The only difference would be knowing that it's fake.

Some people choose to forget; you can do that. Take the right drugs and you'll forget you're a human in a pod and believe you were always the chosen princess that saved the fantasy kingdom from the dark lord, or the grizzled noir detective uncovering corruption in the government, or whatever other life you care.

Humanity has been like this for a millennium; this future is stable. There are no wars, no existential risks, nobody starving or dying of preventable diseases, no tragedies that need addressing except to the extent you think this whole world is a tragedy. Do you?

[oscarjcarlisle]

Hazardcore is an aesthetic that’s already existed for a long time, but that I’ve incorporated into my near-post-scarcity worldbuilding project.

What do people in such a post scarcity world do? With no job, free rent, free food, free internet, a monthly stipend around $1500 (2023 continental US buying power… ish) and hobby shops nearby, hiking trails everywhere, drugs, power tools, and spray paint available for a reasonable price, all delivered by automated train from… y’know… over there. Somewhere.

The (a) result is Hazardcore, a movement of people who enjoy dangerous hobbies of all kinds sharing their experiences and custom gear online, seeking out ways to top themselves and each other, design and build new equipment to do it, and make sure you’ve got the skill and balls to pull it off.

I doodle fashion designs, but that can tell part of the story. They incorporate a lot of caution stripes, warning labels, and bright colors, both for fun and because it can legit save your life.

And as any subculture that people devote their entire lives to has, it’s developed more… frivolous fashion as well. Sometimes fashion gets in the way of safety and… well, medical care is also free and bloodstains fit the aesthetic.

And a lot of people die. It’s widely socially discouraged. Some people call it a cult.

[sims-tec]

Designed by the Adeptus Mechanicus for the Great Crusade, the appropriately dubbed MK2 'Crusader' power armor was a step up from the MK1, featuring bells and whistles that would be a hallmark in later models. Waste recycling, automated medical gear, auxiliary and life support systems, and sealed against the void of space. The helmet included a number of enhanced sensors, image magnification, ultraviolet and infrared sight, and a zooming in feature.

The MK3 'Iron' power armor was designed for the invasion of the Squat Homeworlds and boarding actions. A reinforced MK2, it featured reinforced frontal armor for better close quarters combat, filling a niche that would later be taken by the terminator armors. It was never meant to replace the MK2, merely supplement, and so no legion was fully stocked with the model. While it shined in the role it was meant for, the suit was otherwise clumsy and uncomfortable for conventional warfare. Around the time of the Horus Heresy, the armor was being phased about in favor of the various terminator armors, though still common among traitor legions, especially among honor guards and spear tip operations.

The suits have no morphs, are unisex, teen to elder, everyday, formal, sleep, athletic, swim, outdoor, career, and maternity, and require into the future. The patterns include the original 18 space marine legions, Sons of Horus, War Hounds, and Brotherhood of Steel with rank markings. I'd like to thank Polar-the-Primordial for allowing me to use these models. Thank you so much, and please enjoy!

Creator: https://www.deviantart.com/polar-the-primordial

SimFileShare: https://simfileshare.net/filedetails/5167422/

Google Chrome: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GuI46EYGN2kNwyqX6rU-TjH0oXzw-h0o/view?usp=sharing

ShareMods:

[mostmouse]

Late Night Treat

Baxter gets home later after a work function to find you already took your nighttime medication and have passed out. However, that won't stop him from a little late night indulgence.

Baxter Ward x f!reader (mild spoilers for his DLC, 3,300 words, explicit)

You sighed heavily, whining softly. Baxter had texted you that he wasn’t able to make it home until late tonight - some event happening in the office that he had committed to going to. With his resolve to stop weasel out of things, you had encouraged him to attend and spend time with his coworkers and forge some connections. Although, you had to admit you were disappointed it would be going so late into the night.

Stretching out, you made your way to the bathroom, winding down for the night and sleeping the time apart from Baxter away. Stripping down, you put on a joint playlist the two of you had made and washed the stress of the day away. You were relieved it was a Friday night, you and Baxter could sleep in in the morning without a care in the world. 

Humming along and dancing slightly, you moved the bizarre mix of songs that came over the shower speaker. Eyeing your boyfriend’s body wash, you sighed contentedly as you opened it and inhaled the subtle manly scent of it. Holding the bottle to your chest, you giggled bashfully. Everything that reminded you of Baxter made you feel as giddy as a school girl. You were still in awe of finally ending up together again. 

It had been well over a year now that you two were together, and you were pleased to say the two of you lived together harmoniously the last couple months. Living a few towns apart wasn’t so bad, but it couldn’t compare to living together. Getting good night and good morning - and a lot of good afternoon - kisses couldn’t be beat, they were incredibly preferred to texts. 

Turning off the water, you toweled yourself off. Pursing your lips, you looked around suspiciously, as if your boyfriend would suddenly appear. Stealthily moving out of the bathroom without partaking in your usual shared skin care routine, you felt as if you were breaking the law. Laughing softly, you moved to the bedroom, turning down the sheets, and crawling in nude. 

You hoped Baxter would be home soon, and maybe wake you up for a quick midnight romp. Giggling to yourself, you moved to grab your nighttime medication, and with a quick drink of water, you settled down to pass out for the night, dreamily happily of your beloved.

Pulling into the apartment parking lot, Baxter sighed heavily, relaxing into the seat before hauling himself out of the car. Grabbing his blazer, he slowly made his way into the building, past the expansive fireplace, and into the elevator, pressing the little floor eleven button. Resting back against the wall, he looked up into the mirrored ceiling. 

You had sent him a goodnight text, so he wasn’t expecting you to be awake, but he couldn’t deny that a part of him hoped you were. Rubbing the back of his head, he made his way down the hall, unlocking the door and flicking on the entryway lights. Stretching his arms high above his head, he hung up the jacket by the door before making his way to the master bedroom.

Flicking the flights back off as he entered the hallway, he gently opened the door. Seeing all the lights out, he sighed, smiling softly. There you were, bundled up under the sheets and sleeping soundly, the soft sound of the fan joining the white noise machine on your bedside. 

Moving about as quietly as he could, he let his mind drift as he listened to the automated ocean sounds. The apartment was too inner city to hear the ocean properly, and while the white noise machine wasn’t the same, you had said it was close enough.

Stripping down completely, he rubbed his face with his palms. He didn’t feel up to showering, the socialization burning his motivational candle down. Messing up his perfectly swooped hair, he made his way to the bed, sliding into the sheets and immediately seeking out your warmth. However, he couldn’t help but grin as his hands met your soft bare skin. 

Licking his lips, he pulled the two of you closer to the center of the bed, gently turning you over. Seeing the serene look on your face almost had him feeling guilty, however, he knew you were very much okay with him waking you up for quality time together. He leaned down, kissing you softly, wanting to see how far he could go before you awoke. 

His eyes stayed half lidded, watching for your facial expression to change or for your beautiful eyes to flutter open. When you didn’t so much as make a peep, his warm brown eyes searched your nightstand. Grinning wolfishly, he saw your medication container empty for Friday night. Biting his lip, he tried to keep his newfound enthusiasm under check. Oh, he would most certainly be having his fun with you tonight, whether or not you woke up. 

Part of him hoped you didn’t wake up. That you’d sleep through him taking advantage of you while you were asleep, only to awaken in the morning leaking his cum and feeling sore. Kissing you once again, Baxter moaned as his hand came up to hold your cheek, easing your mouth open and petting your warm tongue with his. 

Sighing, he pressed tighter against you, hand leaving your face as they both slipped down to spread your legs open to fit him. Basking in the heat of your cunt against his somewhat hard shaft, his hands drifted along again, groping and pawing at your chest. Breaking from your kiss, he nibbled and bit your bottom lip instead, the skin flushing with warmth at his stimulation. 

Rocking his hips against yours slightly, he grinned as he heard your breath pick up. Soft sounds leaving your kissable lips as he pulled gently at your nipples. Dipping down, he continued the soft grinding of your hips together as he licked and sucked one of your sensitive nipples. Moaning softly, he swirled his tongue around before giving steady flat licks. 

You remained generally unresponsive, the only real reactions being the soft sounds and occasional panting as he worked you quickly just to drop back down again. Popping off one breast, he moved to the other, giving it the same soft treatment. However, as his eyes flicked up to your face, turned to the side with a warm flush across your cheeks, he sucked tighter and pulled up on your chest, teeth dragging along your nipple before it fell from his mouth. 

Your brows knitted together, a soft moan spilling from your now parted lips. He smirked to himself, turning his attention to your breasts once more. After your split that one summer, he found himself fantasizing about your body more often than he’d like to admit. Every time he had the utmost pleasure to see you in your swimsuit was another cherished memory he would unpack when he was hard and pining for you. 

One hand groped your opposite breast while he licked and sucked your nipples back and forth. Biting around your soft skin, he made sure to leave marks all across your chest. If you weren’t sore from how he planned on pounding you, then you’d have all his sweet marks to show you his nighttime activities as well. 

Leaning back, he admired his work in the low light of the bedroom. Your arms were tossed up by your head, hair messy around your pillow, and your perfect nude body spread out beneath him. Licking his lips, he openly leered at your snoozing form, hand stroking his fully hard cock. 

Biting his lip, he grabbed for his phone blindly on his nightstand, changing the setting to low light as he snapped a few pictures of you. Leaning in close, he took closer shots of your bitten and marked chest, groping you for a few of the pictures. Grinning, he tossed it aside to grab for later once he was finished with you. 

Letting his hands slide over your belly, they drifted down to hold your inner thighs. Rubbing his thumbs across your skin, he massaged your plump legs as he admired your shining cunt. You weren’t nearly as wet as he would like you to be, but it wouldn’t be a problem. Considering you had yet to even be roused from sleep, he’d take this little round of love making for his own pleasure. He’d make it up to you in the morning. 

One hand moved to cup you, fingers gently stroking you. He watched your expression closely, brown eyes half lidded as he slipped a digit inside. Moaning softly to himself, his gaze dipped down, admiring how he fit so well inside, the familiar feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around his fingers. 

Feeling how slick you were, he slipped another digit inside, the pace slow and methodical. Gaze once again admiring you, he used his other hand to push your thigh open, spreading your cunt and letting him push his fingers deeper inside. He watched as your brows pinched together, breath coming out in pants as you whined slightly. 

Using his knee to keep your leg spread, he leaned down to rest on his forearm next to your head. Kissing your forehead, he moved his hand faster. “That’s my good girl, can you hear me, darling? You’re being so wonderful for me.” You whimpered in your sleep, hand loosely curling into a fist, with no strength behind your movements. 

Baxter grinned, dark hair falling to rest on your forehead. Biting your bottom lip, he tugged slightly, your mouth opening once more and basking in your moans. Readjusting his wrist, he slipped another finger inside, listening as you let out a low cry, hips moving just slightly. It was obvious you were trying to wake up, but your sleeping medication was keeping you sedated. 

He pressed a kiss to your open mouth, slipping his tongue inside and touching yours as it moved restlessly against his. Hooking his fingers, he pressed up towards your gspot. Breaking away, he watched as you choked on a gasp of air, his thumb teasing your shy clit. It wasn’t enough teasing for either to become swollen enough to have you screaming, but he was content with that. Afterall, he wanted to use you for his own pleasure tonight. 

Slipping his fingers out of you, he licked them clean idly as he watched your body calm back down. His cock was flushed and throbbing, and he knew if you were awake and coherent, you’d be begging him to let you suck him off. He moaned at the thought, cleaned digits wrapping around himself as he so clearly could hear you in his head begging to blow him. “You’re a naughty little minx, aren’t you, my love?” 

Lustful eyes traced over your features, his gaze hot and heavy as he admired you. Moving so he could grip both your legs, he propped them up on his hips, pinning one as he guided his shaft to your slick cunt. Once the tip slipped in, he tilted his head back and moaned. Your heat was incredible, it made his head fuzzy as soon as he felt it, warming up his chest and heart. 

Swallowing, he held your legs wide open, watching his cock as it slipped inside a bit deeper. Of course, you weren’t aroused enough for it to be an easy fit, but he was excited to see how tight you’d feel. Half lidded gaze watched your face as he pulled back a bit to sink into your heat once more. Releasing a shaky breath, he moved one leg to rest flat against his toned chest. Using his now free hand, he rested it next to your head on the pillow, watching you closely for any signs of pain as he freely used your body. 

Baxter rocked his hips easily against yours, content with the slow progress and your sleepy body. He took the time to admire you, watching as your chest bounced with every subtle move of his hips, how your brows knitted together, moaning softly but not waking up. His hand fisted the fabric. He couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to wake you up, to shove himself inside and wait for you to adjust that way. 

But he wanted you to stay asleep. There hadn’t yet been a time where you either stayed fully asleep or just as quickly fell back asleep, he wanted to make your dreamy fantasy a reality, and so far it looked like tonight would be that night.

Hissing slightly, he felt your muscles tighten around him, groaning as his hips bucked deeper inside you instinctively. Freezing in place, he panted, watching as you writhed gently. “‘ax... ahh.” Your voice was soft and low, rough with sleep. Smirking, he smugly wondered what you were dreaming about, you were positively ravishing enough, but hearing you try to say his name as you were fully unconscious while he was fucking you made him eager to know what was happening in your dreams. 

As if answering his inner monologue, he felt your tight cunt unfurl around him slightly, a wave of heat and wetness washing over him as he shuddered. Licking his lips, he propped the leg in his hand a bit higher, moving his hips just a bit faster. 

Pulling out slightly, he pushed in deeper. Your broken moans and small cries encouraging him further. He couldn’t help but pant slightly, your impossibly tight cunt and burning heat working him up. “Fuck, you feel so good. Too bad you’re not awake, darling, I just know how you’d love to see me fuck you.” 

Biting his now sore lip once more, he leaned back, spreading your legs wide open, wincing as your hips popped, he pushed inside. You squeezed him tight, like the vice grip you had when you were in the throes of pleasure and climaxing. Wincing, he focused on moving slowly but forcefully, pressing himself deep inside until he felt himself pressed to the hilt. 

Opening his mouth, he let himself pant heavily, peering down at your joined bodies, and moaning hotly at the sight of his swollen cock pressed flush against you. Swallowing thickly, he moved your legs to rest on either side of his narrow hips, groping the sheets for his phone. 

Grabbing it, he sat back on his heels, the position forcing your legs to spread wide open, displaying your perfect cunt with his lengthy cock shoved fully inside you. Taking a few pictures, he played idly with your clit, recording how you fluttered around him, your muscles pulsing around his shaft. Groaning, he rocked into you slowly and gently. 

Moving to rest the camera by your face, he used his fingers to slide your mouth open, his digits resting on your tongue as you remained blissfully unaware. Locking his phone once more, he lifted your legs back up, pulling nearly all the way out before snapping his hips back into you. He smirked as you cried out, face twisting but not awaking. 

Smirk morphing into a wolfish grin, he slid both legs to be pressed against his chest. Anchoring his hands on either side of your head, right by where your own hands rested, he began to fuck you in earnest. Panting as he bucked his hips against you, he moaned loudly, wanton gaze watching you. 

You whimpered and groaned, soft pants and moans escaping you with every solid thrust. Soon, Baxter watched with smug satisfaction as your eyes cracked open, blearly gaze unable to meet his. Letting himself fall to his forearms, he kept his quick and deep pace as he watched you. 

It was obvious you weren’t awake, or coherent, but still he found himself talking with you. “Beautiful, absolute perfection- ah! You’re so- fuck, so amazing. Such a good girl, your body knows to take my cock, not even hard to fuck you while you’re-” He his his face in your shoulder, shuddering as you tighted around him. Were you able to comprehend his dirty talk? 

Biting you on your neck, you couldn’t help but cry out, your legs pinned between you and your salacious boyfriend. “B-Baxter-” He moaned loudly in your ear, making you clench down on him, as he heard you moan his name. 

“Ahh~ Is my little darling awake? Such a dirty girl, going to bed with no panties- fuck! You were begging me to fuck you once I got home, weren’t you?” Drool was pooling in his mouth as your heavy hands moved to rest on the back of his head and on his shoulder, nails biting into his skin. 

“Ahh!~ Baxter, p-please! Fuck!” You took the opportunity to bite him, leaving marks across his pale skin, bruises and red marks showing easily and quickly. “C-Can’t, damn it, I can’t- ahh~” His pace quickened as you felt the edges of sleep overtake you once more. 

Baxter leaned back, watching smugly as you tried to fight off sleep, your sedatives not allowing you to stay awake. Your hands slowly fell from his body, coming to rest on either side of your hips. Licking his lips, he anchored his feet into the sheets, pressing your hips higher with his own as he began to pound you harder. 

You continued to blearly watch him, eyes unseeing as you moaned and panted broken syllables of his name. He basked in your body and trust, letting your heat wash over him as he felt his body tense. “Fuck, so close, ahh! Don’t worry, my l-love, I’ll give you every bit of my cum, fuck! Gonna pump you full, ahhh~” He was wanton above you, cheeks flushed down his chest, body rosy as he felt his climax coming. 

His hips stuttered, the salacious sounds of your joined bodies echoing around him, the impossible heat of your cunt surrounding him, squeezing his cock and smothering him. Panting, he cried out your name as he felt himself lose his rhythm. Kissing you sloppily and wetly, he felt himself cum inside your perfectly tight cunt. Jerking his hips, he dumped every bit inside of you, willing strength in his arms as he hovered above you. 

Your face was pinched as you felt him inside you, unable to burst through the heavy fog of sleep as you vaguely heard Baxter speak to you. You could feel his warm hands on your face and body, and as he touched you, you felt yourself fall into a deep slumber once more. 

Baxter watched as your face relaxed completely, smiling as you fell back into a deep sleep. Rolling his shoulders, he groaned as your hips moved against him. Licking his lips and swallowing his mouthful of drool, he slowly and gently moved your legs down, rubbing your thighs as he did so. Settling his weight on his knees, he gently eased himself from your burning body. 

He couldn’t help but moan as his cock slipped from you completely, a bit of cum leaking out of you down your slit. Grinning wolfishly, he used his fingers to swipe it up and press it back inside of you. Moaning at the sight, he grabbed his phone once more, taking a handful of photos with his cum leaking out and his fingers pushing it back in. He readjusted his wrist, holding your slit open as thick cum slowly leaked from your pulsing cunt. 

Tossing his phone aside for the last time for the night - early morning? - he moved you to rest on your side, grabbed the blankets he had kicked down, and settled in right next to you. Deep brown eyes watched your face softly, love blossoming inside him euphorically. He brought you close, one arm wrapped around you, letting the other slip under the pillow, and tangling his legs with yours.

Sighing contentedly, Baxter allowed himself to relax with you in his arms. Feeling the exhaustion of the night catch up with him, he felt himself go limp before falling asleep beside you. 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Plant the flag: A story from the glorious adventures of the mixed species 17th Engineer Battalion

continuation of https://www.tumblr.com/niqhtlord01/651132984410456064/humans-are-weird-merging-multiple-species-into?source=share

“Here are the latest base reports, sir.”

Commander Zavar opened his eyes and saw the stack of files the clerk had laid on his desk. It was easily the length of his arm and contained every detail of events for the last week on his base. He sighed loudly and dismissed the clerk as he reached to the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of Nebulion liquor.

The bottle had been given to him by his then commander as a congratulation gift for being promoted to commander and given command over this military base. Zavar had told himself he would save it for a special occasion, but now with the bottle half empty it was the only thing keeping him sane these last few months.

It had been nearly two months since the “human” reinforcements had arrived to reinforce his base for the upcoming offensive. Before they had arrived his weekly reports could be summarized on a single page of paper. With the human mixed species battalion roaming his base the list of reports and incidents had grown to what he now saw dominating his desk.

He poured himself a glass and began to casually go through the reports; his glass needing refilling after making it every three or so reports in.

A report from the base head chef making complaints for the food requirements for the Drone warrior named “Dro”, with a citation of an incident were the head chef forgot to lock the meat locker and returned to find Dro devouring some twenty pound of frozen meat.

A report from the supply officer reporting an increase in missing equipment and supplies from the depot with a notation that they believe the Globnites are responsible. The supply officer entered the human contingent barracks and found several of the listed missing items, yet the human forces claim no knowledge as how they arrived there.

A report stating one of the unused training areas had been converted into a Combra battle pit and that several Combra soldiers held routine bouts against any challengers. Numerous humans have been seen congregating around the area and have begun placing bets on matches.

A report from the Valmorian medic requesting more medical supplies to treat the injuries from said battle pit fights.

A report comprised by several of his own officers refusing to deal with the Flinchestet communication specialist of the 17th citing numerous instances of unfruitful discussions that devolve into the Flinchestet mocking them for their “underdeveloped minds”.

Zavar read report after report after report, slowly chipping away at the contents of the bottle, until finally the bottle ran empty and the commander shoved the pile of reports off his desk in a loud clutter.

Ever since the human contingent of soldiers had come to his base it had been a never ending series of headaches. It was true that the engineers had expanded the base and reinforced it heavily with new perimeter walls, turrets, trenches, and automated drone alert systems; but for every improvement they made the battalion itself made two more problems. Worse still was the friction that they were creating with his forces. It was taking all of his command training to keep his own forces in line from turning their weapons on the human contingent.

The Galaxian’s were largely a conservative species preferring strict discipline within their military ranks. So being forced to operate alongside the mixed species battalion the humans had sent them, with their wildly different traditions and practices, they were put under a daily mental strain.

He had previously called in the human contingent’s leader, the Kliptec Lt. Colonel Reginal Seth, but their discussions over the matter were anything but fruitful.

“The human government has recognized all the traditions of its citizens,” the Lt. Colonel had begun when Zavar had called him into his office to discuss the seemingly out of control behavior of their allies, “regardless of if the genetics of said citizen.”

Zavar rubbed his eyes to ease the pain of remembering the meeting. It had been like talking to a brick wall.

“Your soldiers are out of control.” Zavar had stated bluntly. “Either you need to rein them in or I will be forced to do so.”

“You lack the authority to issue orders to me or my men.” The Lt. Colonel countered. “We may be allies here, but as I stated on the landing fields when we first arrived my battalion only takes orders directly from our government.”

The Kliptec could barely fit inside his office at the time. Though their upper humanoid body remained in front of his desk, Zavar had noted with mild interest that the lower reptilian portion of his body had continued to slide back and forth across the floor as if it couldn’t be bothered to hold still. It was frankly a disturbing and insulting.

“In the spirit of our alliance I will do better to, limit, my soldiers interactions with yours to prevent further conflict.” The Kliptec remarked dryly, “But understand that should you or one of your officers attempt to order them around I cannot guarantee that things will end well for you.”

He looked Zavar directly in the eye to show that he was deadly serious. “That drone that unnerved your men before, Dro, he in particular is not fond of strangers and I would hate for one of your men to be mistaken for lunch by him.”

That had been the last official face to face contact that Galaxian had held with the human contingent leader. True to their word the interactions between the human contingent and the Galaxian’s had diminished, but the friction was still there.

“Human contingent” Zavar thought to himself in disgust. What a confusing notion.

One would believe humans would use humans as their primary soldiers, and Zavar had heard many a tale about their professionalism. Yet when he was given reinforcements from humanity they turn out to be alien species that had settled in human territory and gained citizenship.

Instead of professionals he had been given squabbling children. Instead of discipline he had been given chaos in a bottle. Instead of-

“Commander Zavar, urgent message from Galaxian command.”

His clerk’s voice cut off the drunken spiral of depression and the base commander straightened up. “This late?” he asked as he pulled himself together and tried to shake off the grogginess.

The holographic projector built into his desk activated and commander Zavar listened with a dread he had not felt in some time. --------------------

The first signs Lt. Colonel Reginal Seth knew something was wrong was when he was awoken by the sounds of warning sirens going off around the base. The second and more obvious sign was when the door to his quarters was suddenly kicked in by his second in command.

“The Galaxians are up to something.” Colonel O’Brian stated as Reginal blinked his eyes clear. “They’ve not said anything to us but every one of them is assembling on the landing fields right now.”

Turning to see his clock listing it far too early in the morning Reginal let out a long sigh as he untangled himself and donned his uniform.

“I swear if this is another drill meant to show off Galaxian superiority I might just tell Dro to eat him.” This got a stifled chuckle out of O’Brian. He had served with the Lt. Colonel since the battalions founding back on earth and though he had been hesitant to take orders from a non-human the prejudice and suspicion gave way to trust and loyalty.

The pair left the officers barracks and went to the landing pads. Reginal was surprised to see O’Brian’s statement was far from an overstatement. Nearly every Galaxian on the base was seemingly standing at the ready on the landing pads while their commander Zavar was marshaling a series of ground transports loading up hardware.

Reginal tapped O’Brian on the shoulder and pointed towards the Galaxian commander and his second in command pulled the vehicle up alongside them.

“Commander” the Lt Colonel greeted as he exited the vehicle and snapped a quick salute. The Galaxian returned a quick salute but otherwise failed to respond in any other way.

“Would you mind telling me what is going on?” Reginal asked again, this time louder to be heard over the roaming transport vehicles passing by. Commander Zavar turned to Reginal, his face grim.

“Within the last hour I have just received intelligence that our enemies have broken through the front lines and are sending several military contingents to capture this base.”

Another transport drove by and Zavar waited before continuing. “I have been ordered to evacuate all military personnel and material to a safer location.”

“You do not intend to defend the base?” O’Brian asked. “What the hell was the point of our being here if not to hold this base?”

It looked like O’Brian was about to go into a further heated triad when Reginal forestalled him. “We have not received any such orders or intelligence with regards to these new developments.”

“Our intelligence network is superior.” The Galaxian commander stated much to the ire of everyone else present. “And since we do not share the same chain of command there was no need to share such information with you at this time.”

Reginal bit back a rather unbecoming remark at this.

Turning to O’Brian he gave the order for the entire battalion to assemble on the landing fields as well. ------------------------

Roughly two hours passed and both the Galaxian forces and the 17th Engineer Battalion were now both assembled on the landing pads within the base. Each eyed the other with a mixture of distaste but remained silent until Reginal stepped before his men.

“I imagine many of you are wondering why we are here right now.” The Lt. Colonel began as he addressed his men.

“Late last night Commander Zavar received a priority transmission stating that enemy forces had breached the frontline and were making for this base to capture it.”

This drew several murmurs within the 17th but Reginal held up for silence as he continued.

“In response to these recent developments Zavar has been ordered to abandon the base and retrieve as much military personnel and property as he can back to a safer location.”

It was here that the reptilian commander paused. He looked out over his men; soldiers he had known for some time now yet had never graced the fields of war in true fashion. Until now……

“We of the 17th will be staying.”

This drew several gasps from both contingents and Zavar made to step forward and openly question the Lt. Colonel’s decision but was blocked by a waiting O’Brian.

‘We have received no new orders from command, and so we shall continue with our original order to defend and hold this base until such a time as ordered otherwise.”

Reginal motioned to one of the soldiers in the front ranks holding the battalion colors. Zavar saw it was the Draxic who had originally been carrying the heavy weapons unit across his shoulders as easily as a child holding a frozen cone when the 17th had first arrived at the base.

The Lt. Colonel nodded to the Draxic who then took the flag pole, raised it high into the air, and then brought it down with such force that the pole broke through the landing pad concrete. The sounds of the impact made many of the Galaxian’s jolt in surprise while the 17th contingent looked on in silence as their commander spoke once more.

“There is a story of the first battle the 17thengineer battalion ever fought in that I wish to share with you.” Reginal started. “They had been surrounded and cut off from their allies. Their commander saw the shadow of defeat slowly creep in and so ordered their flag be planted into the ground that they stood upon.”

“He said to them “So long as this flag does not touch the ground we are not defeated. So long as this flag flies high our enemies will know the folly of their failure to think they could defeat us. I look out at you now and in every man here I see a hero ready to strike down a hundred men before they should fall and send the planet trembling with their passing.””

‘I look out to you all now and though many of us are not human I still see the heroes our forbearers spoke of within each of you. I see warriors gathered from across the stars from a dozen different worlds that can shatter mountains and move rivers with a brush of your arms. I see heroes ready to carve their names and deeds into the heart of the galaxy itself.”

“So we shall stay, we shall meet our enemy head on and not flee, we shall shatter them upon our defenses, and we shall emerge victorious and show them that the soldiers of the 17th Engineer Battalion are mother fuckers not to be messed with!”

A thunderous chorus of cheers came from the soldiers of the 17th. The Galaxians watched in disbelief as the voices of a dozen different languages cried out for the prospect of the coming annihilation as if it was the greatest moment in their lives.

Commander Zavar watched and grunted. The fools would be dead by weeks end.

[malinaa]

JULY SHORT STORIES WRAP-UP

well i’ve been getting back into reading individual short stories, so here’s a list of all of the ones i’ve been reading this month! they can all be found here as pdfs <3 all the ones marked with an * are my fav reads

ANT COLONY by ALISSA NUTTING — a woman hosts an ant colony in her body

THE VELDT by RAY BRADBURY — a mother, a father, two children, and their eerie automated home

NO IS YES by PAUL JENNINGS — a man teaches his daughter that yes is no, up is down etc. and her idea of language is tested when she meets another boy

THE PEDESTRIAN by RAY BRADBURY — in the near future, a man takes a walk and finds himself in a situation

THE SPECIALIST’S HAT by KELLY LINK — twins where one is better at playing dead than the other

THE OCTOBER GAME by RAY BRADBURY — a husband who hates his wife gets back at her

YOU'RE UGLY, TOO by LORRIE MOORE — local funny woman hates the midwest and goes back to the east coast to realize it’s also boring

THE HOUSE OF ASTERION* by JORGE LUIS BORGES — so basically you’re the minotaur and you live in a labyrinth and everything is fine until it isn’t

L’ESPRIT DE L’ESCALIER* by CATHERYNNE M. VALENTE — a type of modern orpheus and eurydice retelling but this doesn't end in the tragedy...or does it?

WE ATE THE CHILDREN LAST by YANN MARTEL — medical procedure turns to social experiment gone wrong

AT THE CLINIC by SALLY ROONEY — marianne and connell remember the events leading up to her visit to the dentist differently; alternatively, a microcosm of two people's relationship

I HAVE NO MOUTH, AND I MUST SCREAM by HARLAN ELLISON — ai wins and keeps five individuals alive for its own sick enjoyment

DIVISION BY ZERO by TED CHIANG — a wandering realization that, despite being similar, two people can be so distant, but with lots of math

FRESH WATER FROM THE SEA* by RAMONA AUSUBEL — a magical realist depiction of a daughter and her mother who’s slowly vanishing away

SHE UNNAMES THEM by URSULA K. LEGUIN — eve, of adam and eve biblical fame, unnames all the animals and then some

THE THIEF OF MEMORY by SUNYI DEAN — a hero with one duty, a desert that keeps taking, a storm that never ceases, and a villain that steals memory

HORROR STORY by CARMEN MARIA MACHADO — what’s worse? a haunted house or the relationship that’s crumbling inside of it

THE MOTHS by HELEN MARÍA VIRAMONTES — a granddaughter’s reflection of her family, but specifically her grandmother who died

THE PATH OF WATER* by EMMA TÖRZS — you’re in a fairy tale and you realize this and you try to unlock lost memories

HIGH DESERT by RAMONA AUSUBEL — a woman who lost both her daughter and husband to the sea moves to the desert but is still losing parts of herself

WARM BEDS by MÓNICA BUSTOS (trans. ANALÍA VILLAGRA) — three people share the same bed but never meet until the phantom presence of each other drives them to want to meet

IN THE CEMETERY WHERE AL JOLSON IS BURIED by AMY HEMPEL — an unnamed narrator visits her friend who’s dying

BONESOUP by EUGENIA TRIANTAFYLLOU — as the first line says, “you must eat the body part you want to grow stronger”

THE VERY PULSE OF THE MACHINE* by MICHAEL SWANWICK — a corpse at her back, her home base miles and miles ahead of her, an astronaut does everything to survive

TO EXHALE SKY by SHINGAI NJERI KAGUNDA — a queer speculative story about anticipated grief where the narrator has the ability to inhale and transform sorrow

XY by LUCY ZHANG — a woman with controlling parents finds their first attempt at a perfect daughter in the basement

AND YET by A.T. GREENBLATT — the haunted house of your childhood is a door into parallel universes

[dailyanarchistposts]

A.2.5 Why are anarchists in favour of equality?

As mentioned in above, anarchists are dedicated to social equality because it is the only context in which individual liberty can flourish. However, there has been much nonsense written about “equality,” and much of what is commonly believed about it is very strange indeed. Before discussing what anarchist do mean by equality, we have to indicate what we do not mean by it.

Anarchists do not believe in “equality of endowment,” which is not only non-existent but would be very undesirable if it could be brought about. Everyone is unique. Biologically determined human differences not only exist but are “a cause for joy, not fear or regret.” Why? Because “life among clones would not be worth living, and a sane person will only rejoice that others have abilities that they do not share.” [Noam Chomsky, Marxism, Anarchism, and Alternative Futures, p. 782]

That some people seriously suggest that anarchists means by “equality” that everyone should be identical is a sad reflection on the state of present-day intellectual culture and the corruption of words — a corruption used to divert attention from an unjust and authoritarian system and side-track people into discussions of biology. “The uniqueness of the self in no way contradicts the principle of equality,” noted Erich Fromm, “The thesis that men are born equal implies that they all share the same fundamental human qualities, that they share the same basic fate of human beings, that they all have the same inalienable claim on freedom and happiness. It furthermore means that their relationship is one of solidarity, not one of domination-submission. What the concept of equality does not mean is that all men are alike.” [The Fear of Freedom, p. 228] Thus it would be fairer to say that anarchists seek equality because we recognise that everyone is different and, consequently, seek the full affirmation and development of that uniqueness.

Nor are anarchists in favour of so-called “equality of outcome.” We have no desire to live in a society were everyone gets the same goods, lives in the same kind of house, wears the same uniform, etc. Part of the reason for the anarchist revolt against capitalism and statism is that they standardise so much of life (see George Reitzer’s The McDonaldisation of Society on why capitalism is driven towards standardisation and conformity). In the words of Alexander Berkman:

“The spirit of authority, law, written and unwritten, tradition and custom force us into a common grove and make a man [or woman] a will-less automation without independence or individuality… All of us are its victims, and only the exceptionally strong succeed in breaking its chains, and that only partly.” [What is Anarchism?, p. 165]

Anarchists, therefore, have little to desire to make this “common grove” even deeper. Rather, we desire to destroy it and every social relationship and institution that creates it in the first place.

“Equality of outcome” can only be introduced and maintained by force, which would not be equality anyway, as some would have more power than others! “Equality of outcome” is particularly hated by anarchists, as we recognise that every individual has different needs, abilities, desires and interests. To make all consume the same would be tyranny. Obviously, if one person needs medical treatment and another does not, they do not receive an “equal” amount of medical care. The same is true of other human needs. As Alexander Berkman put it:

“equality does not mean an equal amount but equal opportunity… Do not make the mistake of identifying equality in liberty with the forced equality of the convict camp. True anarchist equality implies freedom, not quantity. It does not mean that every one must eat, drink, or wear the same things, do the same work, or live in the same manner. Far from it: the very reverse in fact.” “Individual needs and tastes differ, as appetites differ. It is equal opportunity to satisfy them that constitutes true equality. “Far from levelling, such equality opens the door for the greatest possible variety of activity and development. For human character is diverse … Free opportunity of expressing and acting out your individuality means development of natural dissimilarities and variations.” [Op. Cit., pp. 164–5]

For anarchists, the “concepts” of “equality” as “equality of outcome” or “equality of endowment” are meaningless. However, in a hierarchical society, “equality of opportunity” and “equality of outcome” are related. Under capitalism, for example, the opportunities each generation face are dependent on the outcomes of the previous ones. This means that under capitalism “equality of opportunity” without a rough “equality of outcome” (in the sense of income and resources) becomes meaningless, as there is no real equality of opportunity for the off-spring of a millionaire and that of a road sweeper. Those who argue for “equality of opportunity” while ignoring the barriers created by previous outcomes indicate that they do not know what they are talking about — opportunity in a hierarchical society depends not only on an open road but also upon an equal start. From this obvious fact springs the misconception that anarchists desire “equality of outcome” — but this applies to a hierarchical system, in a free society this would not the case (as we will see).

Equality, in anarchist theory, does not mean denying individual diversity or uniqueness. As Bakunin observes:

“once equality has triumphed and is well established, will various individuals’ abilities and their levels of energy cease to differ? Some will exist, perhaps not so many as now, but certainly some will always exist. It is proverbial that the same tree never bears two identical leaves, and this will probably be always be true. And it is even more truer with regard to human beings, who are much more complex than leaves. But this diversity is hardly an evil. On the contrary… it is a resource of the human race. Thanks to this diversity, humanity is a collective whole in which the one individual complements all the others and needs them. As a result, this infinite diversity of human individuals is the fundamental cause and the very basis of their solidarity. It is all-powerful argument for equality.” [“All-Round Education”, The Basic Bakunin, pp. 117–8]

Equality for anarchists means social equality, or, to use Murray Bookchin’s term, the “equality of unequals” (some like Malatesta used the term “equality of conditions” to express the same idea). By this he means that an anarchist society recognises the differences in ability and need of individuals but does not allow these differences to be turned into power. Individual differences, in other words, “would be of no consequence, because inequality in fact is lost in the collectivity when it cannot cling to some legal fiction or institution.” [Michael Bakunin, God and the State, p. 53]

If hierarchical social relationships, and the forces that create them, are abolished in favour of ones that encourage participation and are based on the principle of “one person, one vote” then natural differences would not be able to be turned into hierarchical power. For example, without capitalist property rights there would not be means by which a minority could monopolise the means of life (machinery and land) and enrich themselves by the work of others via the wages system and usury (profits, rent and interest). Similarly, if workers manage their own work, there is no class of capitalists to grow rich off their labour. Thus Proudhon:

“Now, what can be the origin of this inequality? “As we see it, … that origin is the realisation within society of this triple abstraction: capital, labour and talent. “It is because society has divided itself into three categories of citizen corresponding to the three terms of the formula… that caste distinctions have always been arrived at, and one half of the human race enslaved to the other… socialism thus consists of reducing the aristocratic formula of capital-labour-talent into the simpler formula of labour!… in order to make every citizen simultaneously, equally and to the same extent capitalist, labourer and expert or artist.” [No Gods, No Masters, vol. 1, pp. 57–8]

Like all anarchists, Proudhon saw this integration of functions as the key to equality and freedom and proposed self-management as the means to achieve it. Thus self-management is the key to social equality. Social equality in the workplace, for example, means that everyone has an equal say in the policy decisions on how the workplace develops and changes. Anarchists are strong believers in the maxim “that which touches all, is decided by all.”

This does not mean, of course, that expertise will be ignored or that everyone will decide everything. As far as expertise goes, different people have different interests, talents, and abilities, so obviously they will want to study different things and do different kinds of work. It is also obvious that when people are ill they consult a doctor — an expert — who manages his or her own work rather than being directed by a committee. We are sorry to have to bring these points up, but once the topics of social equality and workers’ self-management come up, some people start to talk nonsense. It is common sense that a hospital managed in a socially equal way will not involve non-medical staff voting on how doctors should perform an operation!

In fact, social equality and individual liberty are inseparable. Without the collective self-management of decisions that affect a group (equality) to complement the individual self-management of decisions that affect the individual (liberty), a free society is impossible. For without both, some will have power over others, making decisions for them (i.e. governing them), and thus some will be more free than others. Which implies, just to state the obvious, anarchists seek equality in all aspects of life, not just in terms of wealth. Anarchists “demand for every person not just his [or her] entire measure of the wealth of society but also his [or her] portion of social power.” [Malatesta and Hamon, No Gods, No Masters, vol. 2, p. 20] Thus self-management is needed to ensure both liberty and equality.

Social equality is required for individuals to both govern and express themselves, for the self-management it implies means “people working in face-to-face relations with their fellows in order to bring the uniqueness of their own perspective to the business of solving common problems and achieving common goals.” [George Benello, From the Ground Up, p. 160] Thus equality allows the expression of individuality and so is a necessary base for individual liberty.

Section F.3 (“Why do ‘anarcho’-capitalists place little or no value on equality?”) discusses anarchist ideas on equality further. Noam Chomsky’s essay “Equality” (contained in The Chomsky Reader) is a good summary of libertarian ideas on the subject.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 8

Panic – Echo - A quiet discussion between Doc and Hunter is delayed when Echo has a nightmare. Doc tries to ease him through it, resulting in a fun bit of shared taunts with Crosshair the following morning.

Warnings: Nightmare-induced panic attack. Non-intimate bed sharing. Fictional curses (does that need a warning?), sexual innuendo

WC: 2633

The air was beginning to grow heavy with the staleness of long-distance travel, the chill having long since settled into my joints from diverting power throughout the ship to grant just a fraction more speed to already straining engines. There was no pressing need to push the ship like this, but the Batch had a reputation of reckless efficiency to maintain. Most of the others had settled down, but I couldn’t flip my sleep cycle with the ease Wrecker’s deep snoring flaunted.

Letting out a slow sigh, I slipped from the medbay cot – it was far from comfortable, but the limited sleeping quarters in the transport granted few options. Wrapping the gray blanket snugly around my shoulders, I tread quietly down the center isle, eyes wandering fondly over the sleeping figures: Tech’s ankles were crossed, arm draping over his chest where it had clearly landed when he’d fallen asleep, datapad still glowing from beneath his loose grip. Echo lay slightly on his side in his hammock, scomp draping over his waist, lips just parted in rhythmic breathes. Crosshair was nestled against the very corner of his bed, back flush against the wall, and Wrecker was sprawled out on his stomach, one arm curled beneath his head while the other hung thoughtlessly over the edge, a clear line of drool already glistening at the corner of his mouth and soaking into his pillow.

I wasn’t surprised to see Hunter’s rack untouched, certain I’d find him monitoring the automated systems as an excuse to appreciate the rare, relative quiet of space travel. Snatching his meticulously folded blanket thoughtlessly as I crept past the sleeping soldiers, I made my way unhurried toward the cockpit.

“You should be asleep.” He chided, but there was no heat in his calm voice as I descended the ladder.

“You’re one to talk.” I shot back with a small smile. He was still facing forward, legs stretched leisurely out before him as he leaned back in the blocky pilot’s chair, elbow just visible on the arm rest. Without waiting for him to turn toward me, I snapped his blanket out, practically throwing it over him. He startled only slightly at the sudden movement, but quickly stilled, eyebrow cocking as he shot me a sideways glance.

“Doc… you realize we were created for this, right?” Paying no mine to his gentle mocking, I sat heavily in the copilot’s chair, knees tucking against my chest to wrap my own blanket more snugly around me.

“Mmhmm.” I merely hummed in response, earning a quiet chuckle, but my lips pulled into a small smile as he repositioned the thick fabric slightly if only to humor me.

“Do you ever think about what’s after this?” I felt his gaze turn more pointedly toward me as the quiet words fluttered over my lips, eyes staring blindly at the dancing glow of hyperspace before us. Allowing my question to settle back into the silence, he finally let out a small huff before leaning into the worn padding once more.

“Pretty sure there’ll always be a demand for medics, so I doubt you have much need to worry.” He offered. Only then did I finally turn to face him, brows just hinting at a frown.

“I don’t mean for me, Hunter.” I stated, waiting him out until he finally let his head fall, chin just resting against his chest, and I loathed that troubled worry that settled heavily over the powerful features of his face.

“Don’t know.” He finally answered. “Clones don’t exactly have a place out there that doesn’t involve a battlefield.” My eyes followed the absent motion of his hand as he waved vaguely toward the viewport.

“Yet.” I offered quietly. He didn’t humor me with even the echo of a smirk, jaw shifting stiffly forward. “What if you could choose?” I pressed, question falling lightly from a kind smile. “Say we reach Kamino and find out the war is over and clones have been granted full citizenship in a show of gratitude for your service: true freedom for you and your brothers,” His eyes closed slightly, and I could see his mind beginning to wander; to want, “What then?” He let himself think for just a moment longer before releasing a dismissive breath of laughter that threatened to break my heart.

“Master of small talk tonight.” He teased, some of his usually weariness returning to those umber eyes. I merely waited expectantly as he let his attention return to the swirling blues and blacks of space. “Guess I don’t really care where we wind up,” he started, voice quiet, “so long as I can keep us all together; keep us safe… Maybe somewhere quiet.” Finally, he let himself begin to truly entertain the idea; to dream. “It would be hard to find a life that would keep them all happy, but… maybe we could find some remote planet – become settlers and just… live.” I didn’t notice the smile spreading over my face until he glanced at me with a pointed smirk, but I didn’t withdraw, beaming at him with pure glee.

“The great settlers of Clone Force 99, braving unknown worlds and taming alien wilds.” I murmured brightly, heart soaring at the earnest chuckle that shook almost silently through his chest.

“What about you, Doc?” He asked, tilting his head back towards me, “What’s next for you once you’ve had your fill of all th-” That elation of far-off hopes and desires went cold in an instant as he went still, attention shifting pointedly toward the hallway behind us. “Echo.” He stated simply, sympathy robbing him of that brief moment of weightlessness.

“I’ll go.” I said, already raising to my feet. He started to object, jaw shifting beneath those relentlessly exhausted eyes, but I settled my hand comfortingly over his shoulder, meeting his gaze in a silence that said everything words simply couldn’t. He reluctantly deflated beneath my touch, a deep gratitude stealing over him as he looked up at me. With a final smile, I quickly moved toward the ladder, hopping up the rungs to reach the bunk room that much faster.

Beneath Wrecker’s still oblivious snores, I could just catch the occasional huff of a too-sharp breath, noted the way that red hammock rocked ever so slightly despite the smoothness of our flight. Quickening my pace, I trotted the last few steps, heart twisting at the pinched crease between his brows, the tension balling overtop his jaws.

“Echo.” I barely breathed his name, one hand resting over the top lip of crimson fabric while the other reached tentatively toward him. His head jerked slightly to the side, teeth just flashing in a brief scowl. Fingers brushing tenderly over his shoulder, I called him again. “Echo… Echo, sweetie, you’re dreaming.” His chest quivered with a frantic, broken gasp, body flinching away from me. “Echo.” Voice raising ever so slightly, I reached down to carefully hold his cheeks between my palms, thumb sweeping over taut muscle. Finally, his eyes snapped open, jaw parting amidst a violent gasp as his arm swept out before him in a panic.

“Shh-shh.” The comforting sound shushed quickly from my lips, letting my touch shift against him just enough to try to draw his attention to me. “Look at me, Echo – it’s alright.” Wide eyes darted blindly around us, only resting on mine for a fleeting second before continuing their desperate search for some ancient danger.

“You’re on the Marauder, Echo. You’re okay.” His hand abandoned its defensive flailing and latched sharply around my arm, frantically shifting gaze beginning to fall on me more frequently. “Easy,” I murmured softly, “You’re safe, Echo. Look at me,” I gently pulled his face back toward me, breathing a gentle, “good” when those golden eyes lingered on mine.

“I want you to breathe with me, okay?” His hold resettled almost neurotically around my upper arm, and I didn’t doubt the bruises I’d find later, but I’d let him break the damn thing before pulling away. Lips softening into a gentle smile, I made a show of drawing in a slow, leisure breath, held it for a moment, and then, with that same unrushed ease, let my shoulders sink as I exhaled. His attention remained locked on me, but the wild terror in the dilated pools of his pupils offered no signs of understanding.

“Come on, soldier, I gave you an order.” I teased, thumb again brushing over his cheeks. Brows furrowing further over haunted eyes, he almost belated grasped some fleeting understanding of my words, and, when I began to inhale once more, his teeth ground beneath the strain of fighting to obey me. “Good. You’re doing great, Echo.” Softly spoken words settled quietly in the air between us. The terrible depth of his fear continued to rend him into a trembling mess of tense muscles and shuttered breaths, but the entirety of his focus now seemed locked on me.

“Again.” I whispered, smile growing encouragingly. His hand shifted with his next tense inhale, darting up briefly to my shoulder before clasping around the back of my neck, arm tensing to pull himself closer, and I nearly broke beneath the violent need in those pleading eyes. “Okay.” I murmured quickly, leaning down to rest my forehead against his. “Okay, Echo; I’m right here.” He was still for only a few rushed breaths, trying and failing to match my calm pace before giving into his fear once more, arm jerking up to lock around me, nearly tumbling from the hammock in his fight to hide against me, legs kicking restlessly atop the too pliant fabric.

“Shh; alright-alright.” My gentle attempts to quiet him fell on deaf ears, struggling to keep him from falling as I eagerly returned the desperate embrace. The moment my feet finally slipped off the floor as I tumbled forward on top of him barely registered in the face of his utter surrender, clinging to me even with his scomp, the augmented limb looping tightly around my lower back. Forehead tucked up into my neck, he merely held me as he trembled.

I continued pressing the soothing words and gentle promises into the fleeting breadth of air between us, carefully shifting a hand up his neck to let my fingers card through the short curls of hair just beginning to regrow around the metal nodes. Slowly, that horrid tremble began to still, breath steadying enough to match mine, but his hold never lessened, arms clutching me tightly against him even as he started to fade. Vaguely, I worried over how my weight might feel pressing against the nodes lining his chest and torso, but, if it caused him any discomfort, he seemed not to notice, nor, surprisingly, did they dig painfully into me.

Unlike the others, Echo was almost always cold. He rarely spoke of it, but I’d seen it in the way his mood fell in poor weather, felt it in the chill of his flesh during the occasional shared touch. Now, however, with the two of us nestled together in the snug cocoon of his hammock, the cool air was a distant thought, warmth quickly pooling between us.

I didn’t noticed my own weariness sneak up on me, overcome with my own relief that the man still hidden against my neck was finally free of that terrible panic, and there was no thought to leaving him, balking at even the risk of waking him. Just a short while longer… I’d stay for just a bit longer, just in case the nightmares returned.

-

The choked sound and sudden tensing of muscle beneath me brought me back to a reluctant awareness, brows drawing wearily together as I glanced toward the noise, frown deepening slightly in confusion to find Echo staring at me mid gasp, horror and embarrassment sending a painfully hot flush blooming over pale cheeks, arms carefully held away from my body.

“Right…” I sighed, rolling my shoulders slightly to test the stability of the hammock. “Sorry – didn’t mean to fall asleep.” I’d shifted onto my side at some point in the night, arms still coiled loosely around his head.

“S-I… um…” I had to quickly bury my teeth into my cheek to silence the giggle at how painfully flustered he was.

“You had a pretty bad nightmare. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I kinda couldn’t… um… leave.” I tried to explain, pulling my arm from under his head to lean onto, easing at least partially off of him.

“Maker, no-no. Kriff, Doc; I’m sorry…I-” I waved away his words dismissively.

“It’s fine, Echo; really.” I assured him once more, head twisting to glance at the edge of the hammock. “Don’t supposed there’s an easy way out of this thing?” I asked lightly, again trying not to laugh at the lingering panic in those comically wide eyes.

“Oh! Ah, um, not-not really.” He stammered apologetically, jaw opening in silence a moment as his torso started to tense before catching himself and freezing once more. “Your, uh… your legs.” His gaze turned pointedly to lock onto the wall of red fabric beside him, lips stumbling slightly over the words. “Swing your legs over first.”

With a sympathetic smile, I elected against drawing it out any longer, steadying myself with one hand on his chest while the other gripped the hammock itself before slowly craning a leg over the edge, arms tensing against how the bed rocked beneath us from the movement. His fingers flared, torn between reaching out to help me and panicking at the mere thought of initiating further contact, but I managed to touch my foot to the smooth flooring and was able to free the rest of my body with relative ease, shooting him a victorious smile that, even in the frenzy of embarrassment, gleaned a tiny huff of laughter from him.

“Yuh know, I actually haven’t slept that well in a while.” I groaned, arms stretching above my head. Without lingering for a response, I started unhurriedly from the bunk room, lured away by the faint scent of caf.

Hunter was still in his bunk, feigning sleep even as he fought to bite back his own grin, but the others were already dispersed throughout the ship. How we’d slept through Wrecker getting up was beyond me, but I was grateful they’d left us to rest - Echo certainly needed it.

Crosshair was the only one in the tiny kitchenette, lithe body stretching lavishly between two chairs, head absently tilted back with a still steaming mug cradled between his hands. He didn’t open his eyes as I entered, but those thin lips began to curl. I merely readied myself in silence for whatever clever quip he’d surely been waiting all morning to deliver, busying myself with the automated movements of preparing my own cup of caf.

“That a service you’re offering to the whole squad, now, sweetie?” The taunt dripped from that haughty smirk, sharp eyes slitting open to locked onto me in search of a bloom of embarrassment or stutter of shame. Unphased, I merely cocked an eyebrow and, voice sweetly innocent, answered calmly with a question of my own.

“Are you asking me to sleep with you, Crosshair?” The quickness with which that smirk fled his lips, heat seeping up his neck in a flush of red, nearly broke my careful façade of control, jaw tensed against the bark of laughter begging to escape, but I managed to reign it back as I casually walked toward him. Eyes wide, caught, he sat frozen as I approached, but, when I reached down to muse his hair with my hand, that spell broke, head jerking away from me with a deep snarl. Laughing softly, I said nothing more as I continued out of the room.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#10yrago UK police arrest man who built anti-immigrant nail-bomb, decline to press terrorism charges https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/nov/28/soldier-jailed-nailbomb-ryan-mcgee-manchester-bomb

#10yrsago Library’s seed sharing system threatened by Big Ag regulations https://www.mprnews.org/story/2014/11/30/duluth-librarys-seed-sharing-program-hits-a-hurdle

#10yrsago Haunted Mansion leg sleeve tattoo https://www.reddit.com/r/tattoos/comments/2o20s0/haunted_mansion_leg_sleeve_in_progress_by_darin/

#10yrsago Interview with fantasy writer Tim Powers about being a “secret historian” https://web.archive.org/web/20150103220737/http://likeiwassayingblog.com/2014/12/02/tim-powers-interview-with-a-secret-historian/

#5yrsago McKinsey designed ICE’s gulags, recommending minimal food, medical care and supervision https://www.propublica.org/article/how-mckinsey-helped-the-trump-administration-implement-its-immigration-policies#172207

#5yrsago Frustrated game devs automated the production of 1,500 terrible slot machine apps and actually made money https://www.gdcvault.com/play/1025766/1-500-Slot-Machines-Walk

#5yrsago The Supreme Court just heard the State of Georgia’s argument for copyrighting the law and charging for access to it https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2019/12/justices-debate-allowing-state-law-to-be-hidden-behind-a-pay-wall/

#5yrsago UK Apostrophe Protection Society surrender’s, saying “ignorance and lazines’s have won” https://www.standard.co.uk/news/uk/apostrophe-society-shuts-down-because-ignorance-has-won-a4301391.html

#5yrsago MMT: when does government deficit spending improve debt-to-GDP ratios? https://carnegieendowment.org/china-financial-markets/2019/10/mmt-heaven-and-mmt-hell-for-chinese-investment-and-us-fiscal-spending

#5yrsago Using the Challenger Disaster to illustrate the 8 symptoms of groupthink https://web.archive.org/web/20150326031934/https://courses.washington.edu/psii101/Powerpoints/Symptoms of Groupthink.htm

#5yrsago A sweeping new tech bill from Silicon Valley Democrats promises privacy, interoperability, and protection from algorithmic discrimination and manipulation https://web.archive.org/web/20191105215639/https://eshoo.house.gov/news-stories/press-releases/eshoo-lofgren-introduce-the-online-privacy-act/

#5yrsago Harry Shearer interviews Uber’s smartest critic: Hubert “Bezzle” Horan https://harryshearer.com/le-shows/december-01-2019/#t=10:10

#5yrsago Reading the “victory letter” a white nationalist sent to his followers after getting $2.5m from UNC, it’s obvious why he tried to censor it https://twitter.com/greg_doucette/status/1201547992748216322

#5yrsago “Harbinger households”: neighborhoods that consistently buy products that get discontinued, buy real-estate that underperforms, and donate to losing political candidates https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0022243719867935

#5yrsago White nationalists who got a $2.5m payout from UNC abuse the DMCA to censor lawyer’s trove of documents about it https://twitter.com/greg_doucette/status/1201635924158881792

[alondrasthoughts]

Blog Post #2 (02/06/2025)

How does the new digital data affect certain minority groups? 

New digital data algorithms are affecting certain minority groups such as the low-income folks. This new technology is set up to make it easy for government sites, for example, to collect information to detect the availability of certain resources. The problem is algorithms are created to suspect fraud even if there’s no viable evidence like in the case of Eubanks where the system suspected fraud about her medical insurance. Unfortunately, a target is placed for these people, creating false claims. Folks who are in the bracket may not have the resources or the knowledge to deal with suspected fraud. Comparison to those who are middle class who have the knowledge to manipulate the system and get these claims removed.  

What negative effects are there to the commercialization of the Internet?  

As we know the internet not only allows people to express what they feel but allows companies to advertise their goods. The concern is that companies are entering into these spaces simply to profit. Daniels (2009) found “Indeed, the commercialization of the Internet at sites such as iVillage.com (...) co-opts the rhetoric of feminism for profit (Royal 2005)” (p. 103). These sites are taking advantage of certain platforms intended to promote awareness on certain topics to push their services and products onto women specifically. They are actively entering these spaces and using the platform to redirect the site's focus somewhere else. Instead of focusing on the author’s voice and what they want to portray, these companies are causing distractions which lead to demotivation of people using their voice.  

What is valued in automated eligibility?  

Automated eligibility is a convenient tool to make the accessibility to public resources quicker and more efficient. Applying for EBT for example, from the comfort of your own home versus having to visit your local government office is available via automated eligibility that uses new technology. The reality of this system is that it collects an overabundance of personal information that stays in their system that can later on be used for a different purpose. Eubanks discusses how automated eligibility offers no security and protection for folks. This information is given to law enforcement and social services that can target certain groups. Clearly, it doesn’t value personal privacy and protection of personal information.  

What are the two realities that people are facing when using internet platforms?

Online platforms have become part of the normal routine in our personal and professional lives. This means that the internet can be used to express our authentic selves or become someone we truly aren’t. Daniels (2009) shares that some feel that the Internet offers a safe space and a way to survive but also a method for repressive sex/gender regimes. This means that people are using the internet in today’s age not only to access non-fiction information but also as a tool to self-identify and share who they are online. As we move forward, internet platforms allow people to express their personalities and opinions more often than in the past.  

[janetlogs]

WGST: Blog 2

1. What is cyberfeminism, and how does it relate to gender and race?

Cyberfeminism explores the connection between gender and technology, especially the internet. It includes various views on how digital culture impacts women. For example, Sadie Plant saw the internet as a way for women to challenge traditional gender roles. However, her focus on gender alone, without considering race or other factors, has been criticized. Many cyberfeminist ideas cater to white, privileged women, leaving out marginalized groups. Scholars like Fernandez and Wilding argue that cyberfeminism should be more inclusive of women of color and other underrepresented voices. They believe that while the internet has the potential to create equality, it often continues to favor certain voices over others.

2. What is identity tourism, and how does it relate to cyberfeminism?

Identity tourism is when people take on a different race or gender online. Some cyberfeminists saw this as a way to challenge social roles, but others argue that most people don’t actually change identities online. Instead, they join communities that support their real identity, like BlackPlanet for Black users or LGBTQ+ sites for queer individuals. Another idea, disembodiment, means escaping the physical body online. While this can help some women in restrictive societies, many use the internet to share real-life experiences rather than hide their identities. The internet doesn’t erase gender or race, it often shows real-world inequalities.

3. How do pro-ana and transgender online communities challenge the idea that cyberspace is a disembodied realm?

Pro-ana and transgender online communities show that cyberspace is not just a place to escape the body but also a space where people engage with their physical identities. Pro-ana communities use the internet to share "thinspiration" images and support each other in maintaining extreme eating habits, reinforcing a focus on body control. Similarly, transgender individuals use online resources like email groups and medical databases to find information about hormone treatments and surgeries to transition physically. These examples illustrate that the internet is deeply connected to real-life embodiment, rather than existing as a separate, body-free space.

4. How does automated decision-making affect society, and why is it a problem that these systems are first used on poor communities?

Automated decision-making changes how society makes important choices about fairness and justice by turning them into technical problems that computers solve. These systems are typically tested on poor communities, where people have less power to challenge mistakes. As Virginia Eubanks warns, once these biased systems affect the poor, they can spread to everyone, impacting jobs, healthcare, policing, and more. Allowing unfair systems to harm vulnerable groups today risks creating a future where everyone's rights and privacy are at risk, worsening discrimination and limiting people's ability to challenge unfair treatment.

Articles: Daniels, J. 2009. Rethinking Cyberfeminism(s): Race, Gender, and Embodiment. /  Eubanks, V. Automating Inequality - Introduction