#one will use it as a laboratory the other will use it as a buffet

[kwillow]

Ooh I should post these commissions of my rat boy as well! Also by @lambstooth! Two very different AUs of him, neither of which should be allowed in a morgue.

[mariacallous]

A few years ago I wrote about how, when planning my wedding, I’d signaled to the Pinterest app that I was interested in hairstyles and tablescapes, and I was suddenly flooded with suggestions for more of the same. Which was all well and fine until—whoops—I canceled the wedding and it seemed Pinterest pins would haunt me until the end of days. Pinterest wasn’t the only offender. All of social media wanted to recommend stuff that was no longer relevant, and the stench of this stale buffet of content lingered long after the non-event had ended.

So in this new era of artificial intelligence—when machines can perceive and understand the world, when a chatbot presents itself as uncannily human, when trillion-dollar tech companies use powerful AI systems to boost their ad revenue—surely those recommendation engines are getting smarter, too. Right?

Maybe not.

Recommendation engines are some of the earliest algorithms on the consumer web, and they use a variety of filtering techniques to try to surface the stuff you’ll most likely want to interact with—and in many cases, buy—online. When done well, they’re helpful. In the earliest days of photo sharing, like with Flickr, a simple algorithm made sure you saw the latest photos your friend had shared the next time you logged in. Now, advanced versions of those algorithms are aggressively deployed to keep you engaged and make their owners money.

More than three years after reporting on what Pinterest internally called its “miscarriage” problem, I’m sorry to say my Pinterest suggestions are still dismal. In a strange leap, Pinterest now has me pegged as a 60- to 70-year-old, silver fox of a woman who is seeking a stylish haircut. That and a sage green kitchen. Every day, like clockwork, I receive marketing emails from the social media company filled with photos suggesting I might enjoy cosplaying as a coastal grandmother.

I was seeking paint #inspo online at one point. But I’m long past the paint phase, which only underscores that some recommendation engines may be smart, but not temporal. They still don’t always know when the event has passed. Similarly, the suggestion that I might like to see “hairstyles for women over 60” is premature. (I’m a millennial.)

Pinterest has an explanation for these emails, which I’ll get to. But it’s important to note—so I’m not just singling out Pinterest, which over the past two years has instituted new leadership and put more resources into fine-tuning the product so people actually want to shop on it—that this happens on other platforms, too.

Take Threads, which is owned by Meta and collects much of the same user data that Facebook and Instagram do. Threads is by design a very different social app than Pinterest. It’s a scroll of mostly text updates, with an algorithmic “For You” tab and a “Following” tab. I actively open Threads every day; I don’t stumble into it, the way I do from Google Image Search to images on Pinterest. In my Following tab, Threads shows me updates from the journalists and techies I follow. In my For You tab, Threads thinks I’m in menopause.

Wait, what? Laboratorially, I’m not. But over the past several months Threads has led me to believe I might be. Just now, opening the mobile app, I’m seeing posts about perimenopause; women in their forties struggling to shrink their midsections, regulate their nervous systems, or medicate for late-onset ADHD; husbands hiring escorts; and Ali Wong’s latest standup bit about divorce. It’s a Real Housewives-meets-elder-millennial-ennui bizarro world, not entirely reflective of the accounts I choose to follow or my expressed interests.

Meta gave a boilerplate response when I asked how Threads weights its algorithm and determines what people want to see. Spokesperson Seine Kim said what I’m seeing is personalized to me based on a number of signals, “such as accounts and posts you have interacted with in the past on both Threads and Instagram. We also consider factors like how recently a post was made and how many interactions it has received.” (A better explanation might be that Threads has a rage-bait problem, as this intrepid reporter learned.)

What scares me most about this is not that Meta has a shitbucket of data on me (old news) or that the health hacks I’m being shown might be completely illegitimate. It’s that I might be lingering on these posts more than I realize, unconsciously shoveling more signals in and anxiously spiraling around my own identity in the process. For those of us who came of age on the internet some 20 to 30 years ago, the way these recommendation systems work now represents a fundamental shift to how we long thought of our lives online. We used to log on to tell people who we were, or who we wanted to be; now the machines tell us who we are, and sometimes, we might even believe them.

As for Pinterest, I granted the company access to my account so they could investigate why the app recommends ageist, AARP-grade content to me in its emails. It turns out I hadn’t actively logged in to the app in over a year, which means the data it has one me is, ironically, old. Back then I was researching paint, so the app thinks I’m still into that.

Then there’s the grandma hair: Not only had I searched on Pinterest for skincare products and hairstyles in the long-ago past, but Pinterest gives a lot of weight to data from other users who have searched for similar items. So perhaps those other, non-identifiable users are into these hairstyles. The company claims its perceived relevance for recommendations has improved over the past year.

Pinterest’s suggested solution for me? Use Pinterest more. Un-pin stuff I don’t like. Threads also suggested I can fine-tune my own feed by swiping left to hide a post or tapping a three-dot menu to indicate I’m not interested. It’s on me, young buck. In both cases, I’m supposed to tell the algorithms who I am.

I’m supposed to do the work. I’m supposed to swipe more. I’ll be so much better off if I do. And so will they.

[sailingwithoutkids]

Cruising as a Solo Sailor – Go Meet New People

Cruising solo can be a liberating, exciting, and rejuvenating experience—especially when you set sail with Virgin Voyages. With its adult-only atmosphere and uniquely designed activities, Virgin offers the perfect blend of relaxation and adventure for the solo traveler. Whether you’re a seasoned sailor or taking your first solo voyage, here’s what you can expect onboard every Virgin sailing.

Unmatched Solo Traveler Amenities

One of the best things about Virgin Voyages is how they make solo sailors feel right at home. For example, with plenty of social spaces, meet-ups, and solo-friendly cabins, you’ll feel connected while still having the freedom to do your own thing.

Solo Meet-Ups: Every Virgin sailing features hosted meet-ups for solo travelers, giving you a chance to mingle and connect with fellow adventurers. Once you are booked on your sailing we can assist in finding you the right group to connect with fellow solo sailors.

Activities for Every Mood

Virgin Voyages knows how to pack their ships with activities that suit every traveler’s style. Here are just a few of the common onboard activities that you won’t want to miss:

Fitness & Wellness

B-Complex Gym: For starters, enjoy the state-of-the-art fitness center with cardio machines, weights, and more.

Yoga & Meditation Classes: Additionally, join group sessions or practice solo on the outdoor deck.

Redemption Spa: Finally, treat yourself to a massage or unwind in the thermal suite, complete with a salt room and steam chamber.

Dining & Culinary Delights

Virgin Voyages takes dining seriously. All dining options are included, and there are no buffets—just sit-down restaurants offering world-class cuisine. Moreover, you’ll enjoy variety and quality like never before.

Test Kitchen: A laboratory-style restaurant where food meets science.

Razzle Dazzle (Lucky Lotus): Next, try this plant-forward eatery with bold flavors and fun vibes.

The Wake: Finally, savor classic steak and seafood with stunning ocean views.

Entertainment & Nightlife

Entertainment options are everywhere onboard. No matter your preference, there’s something for everyone. In addition to stellar savings, they’ll enjoy solo Sailor meetups, pub crawls, group fitness classes, and rejuvenating spa days for when they want to revel in alone time:

The Manor: Virgin’s signature nightclub, where DJs spin tracks late into the night.

Dueling Reality Shows: Experience interactive theater with edgy, modern performances.

Scarlet Night: Don’t miss this signature onboard celebration featuring music, dancing, and surprises all over the ship.

Social Spaces

Athletic Club: Perfect for sunbathing, lounging, or enjoying a game of oversized chess.

The Dock: An open-air space for cocktails, small bites, and sea breezes.

The Social Club: In addition, enjoy this lively hub for trivia, arcade games, and mingling.

Tips for Solo Sailors on Virgin Voyages

To make the most of your trip, follow these simple tips:

1. Be Open to New Experiences: Try a new class or activity each day to expand your horizons. 2. Take Advantage of the App: Furthermore, use Virgin’s app to plan your day and find meet-ups and events tailored to solo travelers. 3. Join a Group Excursion: Lastly, shore excursions are a great way to meet people and explore new destinations with fellow travelers.

Ready to Set Sail?

Cruising solo with Virgin Voyages means more than just a vacation—it’s an adventure, a chance to connect, and an opportunity to indulge in all the little luxuries you deserve.

So, are you ready to embark on a solo adventure like no other? Don’t wait—book your Virgin Voyage now through SailingWithoutKids. “Set sail, solo, and sensational—because your next adventure is just a click away!”

Content source: https://sailingwithoutkids.com/cruising-with-virgin-voyages-as-a-solo-sailor-go-meet-new-people/

[gustavlord]

Belzebub- lady of the gluttony floor where she manages her restaurant dome where demons can feast as much as they want with the most delicious meals with the price of bringing some sorta of ingredient to the queen then you can pass to the buffet, belzebu is a glutton by nature what took her to do things that she isnt proud of nowdays, then she realized that is much more satisfying enjoying meals with people around to cherish the food as well as putting skill and creativity by cooking food by herself

Mammon- Lord of the greed floor, an vault like structure where mammon spends time laying or swimming in his piles of wealth, there demons can exchange itens with mammon following one single deal: "by taking my treasure you will face thieves, beasts, anyone who craves fortune, by the end of your days you must give to me half of the fruits of your work", for mammon that sounds like a sweet deal being that the way he tries to help the demons, since he learned that kindness atracts kindness (and also fortunes ;-) ) which is a feeling that can penetrates his cold golden exoeskeleton

Asmodeus- lady of the lust floor, an nightclub/cabaret where demons can hang out, bond or simply have a "good time" between them in the end forming parties to explore the dungeons on the other floors. Sometimes asmodeus offers himself to have a good time with some of the demons who attends her nightclub even by doing kinky stuff with them or simply having a good talk, because asmodeus is pretty someone who wants a partner by their side, but because in hell most demons follow their journeys they always end up leaving, then asmodeus stays in her nightclub masking the loneliness

Satan- Lord of wrath floor which is surrounded by jungles and forests with dangers at every corner, in the floor center theres an arid desert where stays his arena where demons can basically be trained at combat skills such as martial arts or anger management, since satan has certain anxieties that leads to his violent tendecies, so he focus his wrath in combat in a way to vent

Leviathan- Lady of the floor of envy, an sanctuary surrounded by aquariums where shadow spread all over the area where leviathan tests the demons endurance with ilusions or sneeking in their minds whispering inconvenient truths, if they passes the test she leave them and reward with some useful information, or else she continues the tests making the demons envious and insane. But in the end leviathan does to see if demons can show integrity and resistance against possessive entities such as she

Lucifer- Lord of the pride floor, a palace filled with golden mirrors and statues of himself, the Lord most of the time stays at his throne looking at the many mirrors around, when encountering him he will not shut up about how he is the highest of the demons because of his angelic genes making lucifer the pure breed of all demons, in the end you just need to pretend to agree with what he says because if you ignore him he will fight you and obviously win and send you back to the deepest floor, in the end lucifer is basically an self absorbed prick that thinks is better than everyone, or as he says:

"Dont try to be like me, be happy being yourself...because no one can be like me, bunch of losers"

His words not mine

Belfegor- Lord of the sloth floor, there he commands an entire medical center where demons can rest and have their injuries treated by his many machines while also enjoying the relaxing enviroment that encourages laziness and serenity, everything while belphegor stays at his room/laboratory or studying technologies to turn things even more convenient or really just sleeping as usual.

[jcmarchi]

Astronomers detect oldest black hole ever observed - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/astronomers-detect-oldest-black-hole-ever-observed-technology-org/

Astronomers detect oldest black hole ever observed - Technology Org

The international team, led by the University of Cambridge, used the NASA/ESA/CSA James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) to detect the black hole, which dates from 400 million years after the big bang, more than 13 billion years ago. The results, which lead author Professor Roberto Maiolino says are “a giant leap forward”, are reported in the journal Nature.

That this surprisingly massive black hole – a few million times the mass of our Sun – even exists so early in the universe challenges our assumptions about how black holes form and grow. Astronomers believe that the supermassive black holes found at the centre of galaxies like the Milky Way grew to their current size over billions of years. But the size of this newly-discovered black hole suggests that they might form in other ways: they might be ‘born big’ or they can eat matter at a rate that’s five times higher than had been thought possible.

According to standard models, supermassive black holes form from the remnants of dead stars, which collapse and may form a black hole about a hundred times the mass of the Sun. If it grew in an expected way, this newly-detected black hole would take about a billion years to grow to its observed size. However, the universe was not yet a billion years old when this black hole was detected.

“It’s very early in the universe to see a black hole this massive, so we’ve got to consider other ways they might form,” said Maiolino, from Cambridge’s Cavendish Laboratory and Kavli Institute for Cosmology. “Very early galaxies were extremely gas-rich, so they would have been like a buffet for black holes.”

Like all black holes, this young black hole is devouring material from its host galaxy to fuel its growth. Yet, this ancient black hole is found to gobble matter much more vigorously than its siblings at later epochs.

The young host galaxy, called GN-z11, glows from such an energetic black hole at its centre. Black holes cannot be directly observed, but instead they are detected by the tell-tale glow of a swirling accretion disc, which forms near the edges of a black hole. The gas in the accretion disc becomes extremely hot and starts to glow and radiate energy in the ultraviolet range. This strong glow is how astronomers are able to detect black holes.

GN-z11 is a compact galaxy, about one hundred times smaller than the Milky Way, but the black hole is likely harming its development. When black holes consume too much gas, it pushes the gas away like an ultra-fast wind. This ���wind’ could stop the process of star formation, slowly killing the galaxy, but it will also kill the black hole itself, as it would also cut off the black hole’s source of ‘food’.

Maiolino says that the gigantic leap forward provided by JWST makes this the most exciting time in his career. “It’s a new era: the giant leap in sensitivity, especially in the infrared, is like upgrading from Galileo’s telescope to a modern telescope overnight,” he said. “Before Webb came online, I thought maybe the universe isn’t so interesting when you go beyond what we could see with the Hubble Space Telescope. But that hasn’t been the case at all: the universe has been quite generous in what it’s showing us, and this is just the beginning.”

Maiolino says that the sensitivity of JWST means that even older black holes may be found in the coming months and years. Maiolino and his team are hoping to use future observations from JWST to try to find smaller ‘seeds’ of black holes, which may help them untangle the different ways that black holes might form: whether they start out large or they grow fast.

Source: Cambridge University

You can offer your link to a page which is relevant to the topic of this post.

[malvenor]

I'll preface this with saying I haven't read Distortion Detective yet, so if there's information related to this topic there, then I apologize and would love to hear a correction! That said...

We know there's other villages, towns, and settlements in the Outskirts (given the existence of Lisa, Enoch, and the residents of Cloud Town), but it's hard to imagine anything outside of that. Of course, the reason why is largely conjecture and assumptions, but hear me out. So, take the map of the city:

Based on some dialogue from Canto V that I can't be bothered to find, I believe from the Indigo Elder or maybe Ishmael? Doesn't matter, it was regarding the Pallid Whale. The Pallid Whale is mentioned as from being beyond the Outskirts, which is a very interesting implication to me! It tells me that the Outskirts is a definable and, more importantly, limited space around the City. Given that the Outskirts is already a dangerous, lethal place and that the Calamities come from beyond it, I think it's a safe assumption that the City is unique in being a safe hub away from monsters. That disconnected line around the edge of the City, iirc signifying a weird railway, might also define the border of the Outskirts??

Now, of course, that is an assumption, and only should be treated as such. The City is only about the size of Slovakia, maybe a little bigger, if we take the numbers from the trailer at face value. (This introduces it's own problems, but that isn't here nor there). It is possible that the continent that the City resides on is uniquely horrible with its monster problems and it's more a Shingeki no Kyojin situation, or, more likely, that other large, dense settlements have appeared thousands of km away. In such a situation, however, it is deeply unlikely that we will ever see them for a few reasons!

First, and most pressingly, the sky is unavailable and unexplored! As shown in Leviathan, when Garnet was being forcibly refracted to several mirror worlds at once, he did not recognize an airplane. It's not even a matter of planes being rare or exclusive - they simply seem to not exist within the culture of The City! At least... mostly. There is one single example of an airplane that we've seen, and that is in the Hex Nail EGO background, where a toy biplane can be seen hanging from the ceiling, which also has some fascinating implications.

Anyways, back to the point, the second reason is The Head. Reading into the Birds from Lobotomy Corp, especially with how they're used in Ruina, it's pretty easy to see that they represent the Head, Eye, and Claw. The Arbiters (Judgement Bird), Beholders (Big Bird), and the Claws (quite hilariously, Punishing Bird). If you take their collective story and the story of Apocalypse Bird and apply it to the Head, then you end up with the implication that, despite the horrible damage they deal and the tight, stifling control they have over the City, the Head may firmly, honestly believe that they are protecting the City. They "protect" it both from internal threats (the A.I. act, the expulsion of Impurities) and external threats (making the City inaccessible to outsiders). They also don't seem to take kindly to their denizens doing things outside their view (Carmen's Outskirts laboratory), which is the important part here: they seem to not want people to leave. If people struggle to leave, that just makes them even more potentially isolated!

Lastly, and this is where we have the least information, the environment outside the Outskirts itself seems to be unbelievably hostile. Just ten seconds outside the door of Mephistopheles in MotWE showed us a deluge of sand and wind that rendered all things invisible and buffeted at the Sinners skins. We don't know if that is normal, but it certainly is... interesting, and another thing that makes me doubtful about a City 2.

THAT SAID! Speculation is a wonderful thing and I absolutely agree we should see more of that speculation. Personally, I'm a fan of the idea of other cities out there somewhere. Probably not so grand or advanced as The City, but the possibilities are there! And those possibilities excite me!

Unstructured, messy rant over!

…I just realized I’ve never seen any fan theories or ocs or art of what might be beyond the City. That might be because we have next to no information on what’s out there, but still, I’m curious as to what people think the rest of the world of Project Moon might be like. Maybe there are other cities, and the City we know is just very isolationist? Maybe the City is all that’s left? I hope there are people outside of the City who can live better lives than what the people in the City have to put up with.

[pines-troz]

Weekend With The Warners: Chapter Nine

Summary: When the CEO assigns Pinky and The Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Word Count: 13,643

AO3 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/79879516

Inside the cab, the Warners were gathered in the back seat of the vehicle, anxious to reach Acme Labs. Wakko was overwhelmed with guilt for not saving Pinky and Brain from their lab coat-wearing captors. They buried their face into Yakko’s chest while the eldest Warner did his best to soothe the middle child’s woes.

“It’s all my fault,” Wakko whimpered.

“Shhh, don’t be so hard on yourself Wakko,” Yakko gently reassured, pulling his younger sib closer to his side. “You did what you could.”

“But now they’re probably going through some terrible experiments.” Wakko lamented.

“They won’t be, at least not for long,” Yakko said determinedly. “We’ll bust ‘em outta there and give those scientists a taste of their own…”

Dot overheard her older siblings’ exchange while conducting some research on her smartphone. The Warner sister looked up Acme Labs on various websites and was surprised to learn about the company’s terrible reputation on many levels. Unethical animal testing and workplace complaints surrounding sexual harassment.

She knew that Acme Labs must have been bad enough for Animaniacs to poke fun at them with the Pinky and The Brain segments, but never to such a heinous degree.  

The cab turned a corner and reached a foreboding facility that stood underneath the suspension bridge and close to the city skyscrapers. Yakko took his debit card from his hammerspace and swiped it through the machine, paying a cab fare of $12.95.

“Thanks for the ride, pal.” Yakko quietly told the cabbie as he exited the vehicle. Wakko and Dot also thanked the driver as they followed their older brother out of the van.

The driver gave them a wary look as the siblings walked away, wondering what three toon children would want to do in a laboratory on the rough side of town. Once the siblings entered the front gates of Acme Labs, the vehicle zoomed off, leaving a cloud of exhaust behind as he drove away.

The siblings stared at the company’s new logo, a blue sign with orange lettering. The company adapted with the times in regards to giving itself a minimalist makeover as opposed to the flashing red lights or the bold green-yellow neon lights from the 90s. But the trendy, consumer-friendly glow-up did little to conceal the company’s dark and hideous nature when it came to animal cruelty. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot stood close to each other as they faced the foreboding laboratory that contained their new special friends.

Acting as the ringleader of the group, Yakko alerted his younger siblings as he clapped his hands together. “Alright, sibs, our family is in danger and it’s up to us to rescue them.”

Wakko nodded in agreement as a grim frown crossed his face. “Right. Then let’s give those scientists hell,” he darkly muttered as he took out an unusually large wooden mallet from his hammerspace intending to clobber any white coat he came across.

But before Wakko could make their vicious rampage, Yakko put his index finger on their red cap, stopping the middle child in their tracks. “I admire your valiant and unwavering spirit, Wakko, but we can’t just go in guns a-blazin'.”

“Yeah, we need to develop a game plan to outsmart those scientists,” Dot interjected. “And I believe I came up with a foolproof strategy to trick those whitecoats and liberate Pinky, Brain, and all the other animals imprisoned in the lab.”

Yakko perked up his ears. “Ooh, so what do you have in mind, sis?”

Dot motioned for her older siblings to come closer. Yakko and Wakko were eager to hear what their baby sister had planned and immediately ran to her side. The siblings formed a group huddle and Dot whispered her plan with hushed excitement.

-                      -                         -                         -                 -               -

Inside the other testing room, Pinky sat on the exercise wheel with his limbs sprawled out while holding a half-eaten food pellet. The mouse wistfully observed the green cage. Everything looked the same. The green bars, the straw floor, an exercise wheel, a full water bottle, and a food pellet dispenser. The only thing missing was Brain.

Pinky felt all achy and gooey and Garfunkley without the love of his life. He began to pull on the metal tag that tightened around his right ear. He figured that the scientists tried to give him some free jewelry as compensation for participating in the separation experiment. While a nice gesture, nice shiny objects couldn’t replace the warmth and comforting companionship of his partner. But he had to be strong for Brain. A month without his beau would be difficult, but he needed to gather all of his strength to persevere. So he decided to lift his spirits by singing the one song he believed could solve all his problems.

“Just say narf! Just say narf!” Pinky sang boisterously. The mouse waved his feet to the beat of the song, hoping to feel its cheerful energy. “Don’t you know to be glad, just say narf!”  

But as he sang, the somber ambiance of the room remained unchanged. The scientists surrounding his cage merely scribbled on their notepads, ignoring the mouse’s tune. Pinky’s spirits dwindled as he sang the next verse. “Every day is a joy and so marvelous.” But his hopeful optimism was snuffed out like a candle. “Don’t you ruin it with plenty of fuss.” His enthusiasm was diminished into tiredness as he finished the verse.

“Just say zort, just say- Poit! Oh, what’s the point?” The downtrodden mouse drearily declared. Pinky took another bite of his food pellet and sighed. He’d tried to sing the one song he used to cheer up Brain, only to find that it wasn’t working its usual magic.

As he swallowed the chewed-up food pellet, he took another glance at the big chunk of swiss cheese that stood in the middle of the cage. While he initially took a few bites of the cheese after the scientists placed the plate down, he couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He had lost his ability to taste cheese after numerous experiments the scientists put him through as a young mouse. Though he secretly envied Brain for having his taste buds intact, he loved hearing him describe the different tastes of various cheeses. But Pinky was content with the food pellets that the scientists provided. They reminded him of his home life with Brain, and any positive reminder of Brain was good enough for him. Though the food pellets would be more satisfying if he had some three-in-one oil to sautee them with.

Pinky let out another woeful sigh. Perhaps he should try to sing again at night after the scientists left. He could belt out ‘Somewhere, Out There’ to the pale moonlight and pray that Brain would sing the accompanying verses from the other room; Maybe then, Pinky would feel less alone.

Meanwhile, in the other testing room, Brain curled himself into a fetal position facing the glass wall. The mouse stared at his pitiful reflection: his floppy ears flattened against his bulbous head, the grey bags underneath his eyes, and the small amount of snot that oozed from his twinkling red nose. Brain kept all of his focus on his hideous appearance and away from the small cheese platter that stood in the center of the cage. The melancholic mouse let out a ragged sigh. He needed to be strong for Pinky. But he could only hope that the inane experiments the scientists had in store for him were manageable at least.

It was then that the faint sound of crinkling static reached his ears. Brain furrowed his brow in confusion and turned his attention toward the intercom stereo perched above the doorway.

“Helloooo, scientists!” a fast-talking young voice exuberantly announced.

Brain slowly propped himself up from his position by the side of his cage when he heard Yakko Warner’s enthusiastic voice. Could it truly be him? Or maybe this was just a hallucination cruelly reminding him of what he once had. But the sight of the scientists turning their attention towards the intercom was proof enough that this was very much happening.

“So the CEO of Acme sent me and two other unpaid interns down to congratulate you all on the tremendous work you’ve accomplished so far this year,” Yakko announced. “And as a reward for all of your hard work, he’s holding a surprise party, where you’ll each be receiving a bonus check of five thousand dollars!”

The scientists gaggled excitedly amongst themselves. Brain raised his brow upwards at the sight of the white coats getting ecstatic over the news.

In the other room, Pinky sat up straight on the exercise wheel upon hearing Yakko talking through the intercom. The mouse grinned from ear to ear.

“Egad, Yakko is here! And that must mean that Wakko and Dot are somewhere in the lab as well!” Pinky happily thought as he tugged his feet and eagerly rocked himself back and forth. “Troz! Oh, I knew those little sweethearts would come to our rescue!”

“But that’s not all, folks,” Yakko added eagerly. “We’re closing up shop early to hold a special party for all you special scientists!” The teen’s voice dripped with venom at the word ‘special’. “There’ll be a buffet table, party games, music, and a ball pit! So everyone come on down to the garage right away to receive your bonuses and we’ll get this party started!”

The scientists dropped their notepads and cheered. Brain watched the scientists rushing through the door, no doubt stampeding down the hall to receive their coveted prizes. The short mouse glanced around the empty room and allowed a devious grin to cross his face. Those moronic scientists had bought every lie Yakko fed them. Hook, line, and sinker.

In the other room, Pinky grinned as the scientists fled the room. The mouse merrily hopped around the room, dancing for joy. The kids were going to rescue him and Brain and they’d all be reunited once more!

Back at the office, Yakko, who now donned a white lab coat and floral button-up shirt in addition to his regular attire, turned off the intercom button and leaned back in the office chair. The teen merrily spun around in his wheelie chair. Everything was going according to plan!

Yakko then hopped off the chair, opened up the window, and dove to the ground, secretly thankful he was only on the first floor. The teen took out a lab coat from his hammerspace, hastily putting it on as he ran around the building.

Once he reached the garage, he found a large white truck sitting by the open door. Yakko walked around the vehicle and noticed Wakko’s other self, the one he met during that fateful trip to Paris, happily humming in the driver’s seat. The other Wakko greeted Yakko with a friendly wave, and Yakko happily waved back before sprinting through the open door.

Wakko and Dot, who also donned lab coats, waited patiently in other parts of the garage. Dot settled inside the ball pit while Wakko sat on one of the ceiling lamps. Yakko joined his younger sister in the ball pit. The siblings looked over to Wakko, who eagerly gave a thumbs up. Yakko and Dot smiled mischievously as they dove into the ball pit.

Seconds later, the scientists clamored in the room all at once, eager to receive their checks. But all they saw was a few tables filled with various bags of chips and a pitiful-looking kiddie pool filled with colorful balls. They all looked at each other in confusion, murmuring about the poorly prepared party.

Acting quickly, Wakko descended the ceiling and landed on their feet. The middle Warner sibling slammed the door shut and proceeded to board up the door with wooden boards and nails. Satisfied with their handiwork, Wakko turned around and flashed a sinister grin at the scientists. Wakko then reached into their hammerspace and pulled out a comically large roll of packaging tape and immediately wrapped up five of the scientists in tape.

“Dear Lord, one of our failed experiments has come back for revenge!” A middle-aged scientist shrieked in terror. The other scientists screamed as they backed away from the unusual creature of indeterminate species.

On cue, Yakko and Dot emerged from the ball pit with gift wrapping and packaging materials at their disposal. The Warner brother bounced near one scientist and imprisoned him with gift wrapping paper. Satisfied with his handiwork, he proceeded to tie up the next ten scientists with the same method of capture. The Warner sister noticed the nine scientists trying in vain to make their escape through the garage door and immediately pounced on them. She enveloped them into a giant dust cloud as she secured them with wrapping paper. Once the dust cleared, Dot happily clapped her hands as the scientists struggled to release themselves.

Wakko hopped over to the back of the truck and pulled up the door. Yakko and Dot wheeled the hapless scientists into the truck on box carriers. The siblings gave each scientist a comical smooch before dumping them into their vehicular cage.

The siblings hopped out from the truck. Yakko quickly did a headcount of all of the scientists as he ignored their cries for help.

“Well I think everyone is accounted for!” the eldest Warner declared.

However, the sudden sound of a door falling to the ground reached their ears. The toon siblings turned around to see three security guards gawking at the sight.

“Well, almost everyone is accounted for,” Yakko remarked.

He looked to his younger siblings, each of them sharing diabolical grins, before lunging at the guards and enveloping them in a messy dust cloud. Once the cloud dispersed, the guards were tightly wrapped in wrapping paper and decorated with tape-on ribbons.

Dot sprinted towards the back of the truck as Yakko and Wakko heaved up one of the guards to throw to their sister. The older Warners tossed the first guard over to Dot, who caught him with relative ease. She gave him a smooch on the cheek before tossing him into the truck. The siblings repeated the process with the other two security guards. Once their adversaries were all piled in the truck, Dot flashed them a feigned friendly smile.

Yakko hopped over towards the back of the truck, reached up the handle, and slammed the door shut. He clapped the dust from his hands and happily gazed at his siblings. “Well, phase one went down much easier than I expected.” He declared as he pulled Wakko and Dot into a tight hug. “Great job sibs!” Dot happily nuzzled her brother’s cheek while Wakko happily wagged their tail upon receiving the compliment.

The other Wakko put their head out through the window and grinned at the Warners.

“Thanks for all the help, Other Me!” Wakko shouted with a smile.

“Anytime, pal!” The Other Wakko replied with a thumbs up. “Next stop: Denver, Colorado!” He returned to the driver’s seat and eagerly turned on the ignition. The truck drove through the garage door, sped out of the lab, and zoomed through the street.

The Warners waved as the truck drove off into the distance. With the first phase of the rescue mission complete, the siblings took off their lab coats and tossed them to the side. They clapped the dust off their gloved hands when a recording of ‘The Senses Song’ reached their ears. At that moment, Yakko recognized his cellphone ringtone. “I’ll get it!” He announced as he fished the phone from his pocket and answered the call. “Yello!”

“Hey Yakko,” The voice of a young adult male answered. “It’s me, Skippy!”

“Skippy is that you!?” Yakko exclaimed in shock at hearing an older Skippy Squirrel. “You sound way older since the last time we spoke!”

Wakko and Dot looked at each other with curious glances. The younger Warners pressed their heads against their older brother to get a better listen. Yakko didn’t mind the invasion of personal space as he listened to Skippy.

“Yep, that’s one of the many wonders of puberty.” The squirrel responded in jest. “Listen, I’m sorry for not answering your call earlier. I was out running some errands and Aunt Slappy got into a little scuffle over at the bingo hall.”

“It’s all good,” Yakko casually replied with a wave of his hand.

“So what’s up?” Skippy asked.

“My sibs and I are in a bit of a pickle.” Yakko began, sounding a bit more serious. “Pinky and Brain have been held captive in Acme Labs. We managed to take care of our special friends in lab coats and blue uniforms without any problems, but we need some backup for the next phase of our plan.”

“Go on,” Skippy replied, who was intrigued by the whole situation.

“We’re rescuing Pinky, Brain, and every single laboratory animal and we need you and Slappy to blow up the lab to Kingdom Come!”

Skippy chuckled excitedly. “Oh, Aunt Slappy is gonna love this!”

“Love what?” The elderly squirrel called out in a cranky voice.

Skippy placed a hand over his smartphone and turned toward his geriatric aunt. “The Warners are rescuing Pinky, Brain, and all the other lab animals from Acme Labs and they want us to blow the place up.”

Slappy’s eyes widened with excitement and she deviously rubbed her hands together. “Looks like Happy Hour has arrived early!”

Skippy smiled at his aunt before resuming his phone call with Yakko. “Okay, my aunt’s onboard!”

The Warners hopped up and down in jubilation upon the news of allies accepting their role in the plan.

“So I’ll swing by Acme Labs in my truck and help you and the mice load up the other lab animals,” Skippy explained. “And once we leave, I’ll give Slappy the signal to launch a large-scale assault on the lab.”

“Sounds great!” Yakko affirmed.

“Cool! I’ll arrive at the lab in ten minutes!” Skippy declared.

“See you then!” Yakko said as he hung up his smartphone. He promptly focused his attention on his younger siblings. “Alright sibs, now we’ve got to move fast.” He commanded.

“Right!” Wakko and Dot chorused.

Wanting to put their Great Dane genes to good use, Wakko immediately got down on all fours and sprinted towards the broken-down door. Once he reached the hallway, he sniffed the air for any clues of the mice’s whereabouts.

The middle sibling galloped down the hall until they found a door marking Pinky’s scent, which was a mix of cheesecake and perfume. Wakko pressed their face upon the glass, with Yakko and Dot mimicking their sibling’s actions. The trio saw Pinky, who wore a metal tag on his right ear, prancing about inside a green cage, which sat in the middle of the room.  

Relieved that Pinky was safe, Wakko removed their face from the glass. “I’m gonna go find Dadoo and redeem myself while you two will go rescue dad and the rest of the animals!”

Yakko and Dot looked back at their sibling and gave them a hearty salute. “You can count on us, baby sib!” Yakko cheered.

“We believe in you, Wakko!” Dot confidently added.

Grateful for their siblings’ compassion, Wakko nodded back before scampering down the hall on all fours.

Yakko opened up the door, allowing Dot to walk in first. The siblings sprinted down the room, eager to reunite with the lanky mouse.

“Pinky!!!” They exclaimed in unison.

The buck-toothed mouse perked his ears at the youthful calls and was overcome with relief.

“Yakko! Dot!” Pinky exclaimed. Tears began to emerge at the sight of the eldest and youngest Warner siblings.

Yakko opened up the door and immediately scooped Pinky out of the green cage. The lanky mouse embraced the teen’s thumb as tears of joy began to pour down his face. The teen used his left pointer finger to gently stroke Pinky’s back.

“Oh, thank heavens you came!” Pinky cried, relishing the warm sensation of gloved hands. “Where’s Wakko?”

“They’re off saving Brain,” Yakko answered, giving Pinky a much-needed head scritch.

Pinky’s eyes glistened with joy. “Oh goody! Zort! We’re finally safe, and it’s all thanks to your clever idea of tricking all those scientists.”

Yakko chuckled at the mouse’s compliment. “That’s sweet Pinky, but I can’t take all the credit because my baby sister was the one who came up with that brilliant diversion!”

Dot smugly nodded her head, taking in the compliments her older brother showered onto her.

Pinky turned his attention towards the Warner sister with warm blue eyes. “You did all that?” He asked in an astonished tone.

Upon hearing the gentle cockney accent, Dot’s pride melted into humbleness. Pinky possessed an aura of kindness, which was stored in those gleaming cerulean eyes. Much like Dot’s cuteness had a powerful effect on others, Pinky’s gentle spirit seemed to have a similar effect.

The Warner sister could only respond with a barely audible “Uh-huh.”

“Oh, my smart little angel! I am so proud of you and I bet Brain would be too!” Pinky exclaimed as he opened up his hands, wanting to hold his surrogate daughter.

Dot noticed the mouse’s physical pleas and gently took him in her hands. She held Pinky close to her cheek.

“Oh, I missed you so much, sweetie!” Pinky declared as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

Dot allowed the tears that welled up in her eyes to fall. She wanted to hold Pinky close and never let him go again. “I missed you too, Dad.” She sniffled.

Yakko smiled sweetly at the joyful reunion. He took a step backward to let his sister have her moment with the mouse.  

Pinky opened his eyes and noticed that Yakko was a little further back than he was before. He looked back at the eldest Warner and gestured for him to join them. Taking this cue, Yakko closed the gap as he wrapped his arms around his younger sister. He felt his sister’s arms embracing him, as well as a small paw gently patting his shoulder.

He could get used to this.

-                      -                         -                         -                 -               -

Meanwhile, Wakko sniffed around the checkered tiled floors of the hallway until he caught a familiar scent. A combination of lab chemicals, chumsicles, and a hint of cologne that could be purchased at the mall. Standing back up on his feet, the middle Warner sibling opened up the door and entered inside.

After Wakko walked into the room, he slammed the door shut. The sudden sound alerted a short mouse with an unusually large cranium, who had been pacing around the glass cage he was placed in.

Wakko stopped in their tracks as he was overcome with guilt once more. Had they intervened in time, Dadoo and Dad would not have been captured.

Brain stared at the middle child with shocked eyes. He tried in vain to cover the metal tag on his ear with his paw. Part of him felt ashamed of being seen as a lab animal as opposed to an ambitious and determined mouse bent on world domination. But the relief of seeing one of the Warners again overpowered his insecurities surrounding his image.

“Wakko?” The mouse quietly inquired.

“Dadoo!” The middle child called out. Blinking away the tears that started to form, they sprinted towards the cage to rescue their surrogate father.

Overcome with relief, Brain’s ears perked up upon hearing his voice. The mouse turned around and saw the middle child. “Wakko!”

Wakko lifted the lid off of the cage and scooped their hands to retrieve Brain, but his vision became blurred by the tears that stung their eyes. The sight of the toon crying greatly concerned the mouse.

“Wakko, what’s wrong?” Brain inquired cautiously.

“I-It’s my fault that you and Pinky got caught!” Wakko sniffled.

Brain’s eyes widened with confusion. “Wakko?”

“I should have saved you two when I had the chance, then you wouldn’t be stuck here” The middle child cried. “You must hate me…”

The mouse felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for the poor toon. Wakko must have been worried sick about losing him and Pinky. Brain wondered if his parents felt those same emotions as they watched the Acme scientists steal their only child before their very eyes.

During the first few months during his initial captivity at Acme Labs, a young and naive Brain always pondered if his parents thought about him. The mouse often wished his parents would swoop in and rescue him from his cold steel cage and bring him back to the warmth of the tin-can he once called home. But as the days passed, he accepted the stark conclusion that two simple field mice could not stand a chance against the cold-hearted scientists employed by a decently-funded corporate scientific research facility.

As Brain stared at Wakko, he realized that they, along with their siblings, were toons birthed into the world by pencil and paper to be harbingers of chaos. The children were, by design, zany to the max, and were powerful enough to take over the world if they so desired. However, they used their toon powers for good by liberating him and Pinky from the clutches of unethical animal testing. Brain commended Wakko and their siblings for going the distance to rescue him and Pinky. But he could not stand to see Wakko harbor such self-loathing despite their remarkable heroism.

Brain carefully grabbed Wakko’s right thumb and began to caress it in a soothing motion. “Now that’s just preposterous. I could never hate you, Wakko.” He comforted the middle child as best as he could. Emotions were more Pinky’s strong suit, but Brain was going to try his hardest to alleviate Wakko’s woes. “When Pinky and I arrived at the lab, I feared that you and your siblings wouldn’t come for us. Fortunately, you proved me wrong. You and your siblings have saved us, and you have my eternal gratitude.”

Wakko wiped away the tears from their face as they listened to Brain. The mouse did not hate them at all. The mouse loved them a whole lot! Overwhelmed with relief, Wakko gave Brain a great big kiss on his cranium and proceeded to nuzzle their forehead against their Dadoo’s. After processing the loving gesture, Brain carefully wrapped his arms across Wakko’s forehead. He planted a gentle kiss to reassure Wakko that he was grateful for their presence.

After a few moments, they pulled away from the embrace. Wakko looked at the cage and immediately spotted the big slice of swiss cheese. “I didn’t know they had snacks in the lab!” The toon exclaimed as they were about to take the sumptuous cheese.

“Wakko, NO!” Brain shouted instinctively, but the middle Warner sibling easily retrieved the cheese off of the plate. The mouse stood with his mouse gaping. Wakko did not receive any electrical shocks or any other negative reactions. They got what they wanted without any issue.

Wakko was about to eat the slice of cheese when he noticed the distressed expression on Brain’s face. “What’s wrong, Dadoo?”

“What was wrong?” Brain thought to himself. A wave of unpleasant memories flashed through his mind. He could practically feel the electrical shocks from the stunning plate course through his body once more. He instinctively stepped away, clutching his chest with his hand. How could he possibly recount the painful and traumatic memories to this wide-eyed innocent?

Wakko tilted their head to the side, watching Brain step backward with concern. Perhaps Brain was hungry! They didn’t have much time to eat after brunch and Brain looked like he could use a nice snack. So the middle Warner sibling concluded that their Dadoo needed to have some nourishment.

Wakko broke the cheese in half and placed the bigger portion in his right hand. “Here Dadoo, have some cheese!” The toon kindly offered. “After all, sharing is caring.”

Brain stared slack-jawed at the middle child. The mouse stared at the sumptuous cheese that sat on a gloved hand as he felt a war waging inside him. One side yelled at him to back away. The cheese only represented the inevitable pain that would come from pursuing his desires. But upon looking at the soft white glove underneath the cheese, the other side of him gently reminded him of his loved ones and the bonds he forged with them. Brain recounted all of the pleasant memories he and Pinky made with the Warners in the span of one weekend. All of the fun shenanigans by the poolside, singing karaoke, telling stories before bedtime, and playing in the park. Then there were the moments that brought about his parental instincts. Standing up for the Warners when he confronted the gang of hooligans, caring for Dot when she was sick, taking Wakko back to the library so they could retrieve their precious drawing and the down-to-earth conversation with Yakko.

Brain knew that the Warners, while zany and chaotic beings, were good kids at heart and that they would never maliciously go after anyone they cared about. He looked at the cheese in Wakko’s hand and back at Wakko, who gently smiled at him. Brain realized that the child meant no harm and only wanted to help him.

Gulping down his fears, Brain decided to take a leap of faith and go for the cheese. With trembling hands, he cautiously reached out and touched it and felt nothing. No painful electric shocks, no sense of helplessness. Just the soft texture of the cheese.

Brain carefully took his cheese into his paws. Just as he looked up at Wakko, he saw that the toon was about to swallow their portion of the cheese. The mouse widened his eyes in horror as a terrible thought popped up. The scientists wouldn’t provide food during an experiment out of kindness. There had to be some nefarious purpose involved.

“Wakko, wait!” He commanded.

Upon hearing the anxious voice, Wakko looked back at Brian with concern.

“I-I need to make certain that the cheese isn’t laced with any toxic substances.” Brain stammered.

Inspecting the cheese in his hands, Brain sniffed it only to be reminded of its alluring aroma. He then decided to take the next step and perform a taste test. Taking out a small piece of cheese, Brain licked the piece, expecting anything other than the delectable Swiss cheese racing through his taste buds. Noting that the cheese was safe, he consumed the small piece. With each chew, the mouse slowly noticed the tears pooling in his eyes. Brain blinked away the tears, allowing them to stream down his furred cheeks. He stared at the other piece of cheese in his hand, deep in his ponderings. He wished that he could have allowed himself to let his guard down much sooner. But the relief of learning he could place his trust in his loved ones outweighed his regret. Feeling a great sense of peace, Brain gladly consumed the rest of the cheese without a hint of hesitation.

Wakko worriedly stared at Brain, wondering why he was crying over a piece of cheese. The more the middle child thought, the more they realized that maybe the cheese symbolized Pinky.

After all, they were mice and mice did love cheese! But hold on...Did that mean Brain was sad that he ate Pinky? Or did he just simply miss Pinky’s presence? Oh, man. Metaphors were so confusing!

Wakko gently scooped Brain up into their gloved hands and tried their best to comfort the downtrodden mouse. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back with Pinky in no time!”

Brain stared up at Wakko as they wiped away the stray tears with their right thumb. He knew that the toon child was blissfully unaware of his past trauma concerning his broken trust issues that stemmed from unethical animal testing and how it tied in with the cheese. Perhaps he would inform him when he was ready and willing. But for now, he relished the warm and comforting hold of Wakko’s hands.

“Thank you, dear Wakko,” Brain gently told his surrogate child. “For everything.”

Wakko smiled back at their father figure. “You’re welcome, Dadoo.” They soon remembered the other part of the rescue mission. “Oh! And Yakko told me that we should also free all the other rodents while we’re still here.” Wakko informed the mouse.

Brain smiled. “I admire your unorthodox approach to animal activism.” After a moment of pondering, he needed to address an important issue. “However, I pray that your idea of liberation isn’t just dumping them in a remote jungle.”

“Don’t be silly, Brain!” Wakko replied as they started to carry the mouse out from the lab. “My sibs and I contacted some professionals who’ll take them to a properly-funded animal sanctuary.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Brain sighed.

As Wakko and Brain entered the hallway, they immediately noticed Yakko and Dot running towards them. As the siblings sprinted, Brain noticed that Pinky was riding on Dot’s left shoulder.

When they entered the hallway, Brain and Wakko immediately noticed Yakko and Dot running towards them, with Pinky riding on Dot’s right shoulder.

“Brain!” Pinky called out. Tears flooded his eyes as he gazed at his beau once more.

Brain looked over to see his partner, safe and sound. “Pinky!”

Pinky leaped from Dot’s shoulder and sprinted towards Brain. The smaller mouse opened up his arms as he crashed into the lanky mouse’s loving arms.

“Oh Brain, I missed you so much!” Pinky cried.

“I missed you too, Pinky.” Brain confessed, cupping Pinky’s cheeks with his tiny pink paws. Without a moment to lose, Brain leaned in for a kiss. Pinky wrapped his arms around Brain’s back, pulling him closer.

After moments of sharing a blissful kiss, they parted lips. Catching their breath, Pinky and Brain stared into each others’ eyes. Blue eyes that shined like the ocean gazed upon pink eyes as soft as the cherry blossoms. Feeling the love that radiated from those cerulean orbs, Brain instinctively pressed his large forehead against Pinky’s. Pinky purred a soft ‘Narf’ as he nuzzled his bulbous red nose against Brain’s button nose.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot looked on, smiling warmly at the tender reunion. However, the rattling of the front door startled the mice and the toon siblings. Yakko stepped forth to protect his family from any potential antagonist that dared to separate them again.

Instead, a tall, brown adult squirrel entered the building. The mice and the Warners paid their undivided attention towards Skippy Squirrel. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. The top of his head was covered with scruffy hair and he was dressed in a white t-shirt covered by a green-and-black flannel shirt.

The squirrel grinned upon seeing the group. “Hey fellas,” Skippy greeted with a friendly wave.

The siblings and the mice were surprised by how deep the squirrel’s voice had gotten over the years. But the shock was soon replaced with joy as the Warners grinned excitedly at their former co-star.

“Skippy!” The Warners exclaimed as they launched themselves onto the squirrel, tackling him in a loving hug.

“Boy, you’re certainly taller than I last remembered.” Yakko complemented.

“And you guys are still the same,” Skippy remarked.

“It’s a long story, but we were in suspended animation for over twenty years,” Yakko explained. Skippy wordlessly nodded. He seemed to understand the situation but refused to press any more questions to avoid stepping over any boundaries.

Pinky sprinted towards the squirrel and hugged his bushy brown tail. “Oh Skippy, I missed you so much! Narf!” The mouse cried. “I haven’t seen you since Brain and I attended your Bar Mitzvah!”

“Oh yeah, that was back in 1999,” Skippy added as he carefully plucked Pinky from his tail, allowing the lanky mouse to relax in the palm of his hand. “Oh, wow, it’s been a while, huh?”

Brain, however, stared in disbelief as he cautiously approached the young adult. “Good heavens, is it you?”

Skippy chuckled, offering the mouse to hop on his hand to keep Pinky company. “Hey Brain, long time no see!”

After embracing the mice, the adult squirrel looked over towards Yakko. “So what’s the scoop?”

“Right, we should proceed onto phase two of our plan.” Yakko addressed with a clap of his hands. “Brain, do you happen to know where all the other lab animals are kept?”

“Yes, there were a few cages of mice in the room I was in.” Brain answered. “And I’m certain that they were all unwilling participants in that half-baked separation experiment. ”

“Poit! And there were some mice in my room, too!” Pinky added concernedly.

“As for the whereabouts of the other animals, they’re held captive in a storage facility located in the second to last door down the right-wing of the lab.” Brain continued, pointing his hand down the hall to direct the others down the correct path.

“What kind of animals?” Dot asked worriedly as she clasped her gloved hands together.

“Rats, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits, some dogs, a couple of cats, and, if my memory serves correct, a chimpanzee.” Brain listed off.

“Oh wow,” Skippy muttered in shock.

“And do you know the location of the animal sanctuary you plan to take them to?” Brain inquired.

“Oh yeah, a group of animal activists from down under would be taking them there!” Yakko replied. “They took care of the bun infestation a while back, and they’re more than happy to take the lab animals to their government-funded animal sanctuary.”

“I can get them to pick up the animals at Slappy’s place if that’s convenient.” Wakko piped up.

“Go for it.” Skippy approved. “I believe I have enough room on my truck bed to safely transport all the animals to my aunt’s house.”

“Awesome!” Dot cheered.

“Faboo!” Wakko added enthusiastically.

“So how about it, team?” Yakko declared as he placed his hand in the middle. “Let’s go give the other animals a chance at a better life and blow this seedy lab to bits!”

Wakko and Dot eagerly placed their gloved hands over their brother’s. Skippy placed his hand on top of Dot’s. Despite their diminutive size, the mice placed their paws on top while standing on top of Wakko and Dot’s arms.

“Alright Animaniacs, let’s roll!” Yakko exclaimed.

The others responded with a resounding cheer as they raised their hands in the air. While Pinky and Brain were sent flying into the air, they were thankfully caught by Wakko and placed on top of their red cap.

Setting the game plan into motion, the mice and the toons scoured the lab to round up the remaining lab animals. Pinky and Brain used their knowledge of the facility to guide the toons to the specific rooms where the animals were kept.

They plucked the cages and placed them into the wheelie carts. Brain and Pinky noted the confused and anxious responses from the animals. However, he knew that they were being transported to a better place, and they hoped that they would find peace and comfort in the animal sanctuary.

About fifteen minutes later, the gang retrieved all of the lab animals. Dozens upon dozens of cages were loaded onto many carts.

Brain smiled contentedly at the accomplished task when he felt a soft paw tap his shoulder.

“Um, Brain,” Pinky said shyly. “Don’t you think that maybe we should grab our stuff from the cage?”

Brain stared at Pinky for a moment. His partner was always the sentimental one, keeping his belongings in their sardine tin. The pictures of Pharfignewton, the shirt he brought him from Dollywood, the spellchecker-

At that moment, Brain realized that Pinky had a point. “Perhaps we should grab our belongings from our cage.” He sagely agreed.

“Wakko?” Brain asked, alerting the middle child beneath him. “Would you be a dear and take Pinky and me over to the west wing of the lab? We need to grab our things.”

“Of course, Dadoo!” Wakko happily obliged.

Yakko, Dot, and Skippy overheard the conversation and smiled in agreement.

“Alright, you guys go do that while we pack up the animals in the truck,” Skippy announced.

“Will do!” Wakko saluted as he started to skip down the hallway, careful not to drop the two mice he carried on top of his cap.

Not a moment later, the trio stopped at the large green doors at the end of the hallway. Wakko cautiously opened up the door to find an abandoned research room filled with various lab equipment, desks, and chairs. Pinky and Brain gazed at their surroundings as Wakko tiptoed over to the green cage that sat on top of a table.

“Is this your place?” Wakko inquired as he pointed at the empty cage.

“Yes,” Brain answered in a serious tone.

The mice hopped off of Wakko’s hat and trotted over to their soon-to-be-former abode.

Pinky and Brain went inside their cage and looked at their precious sponge bed. The couple approached their special sardine can, which was filled with many precious keepsakes they gathered over the years.

The mice opened the lid, only to discover all of their valuable possessions were just as they left them. The radish rose whachamoozit they acquired after that fateful Halloween. The many caricatures of Brain, which were lovingly illustrated by their son Romy. Pinky’s high school graduation cap. The mouse-sized guitar and black cowboy hat from Brain’s stint as country musician Bubba Bo Bob Brain. Pinky’s precious spellchecker. Finally, Brain found the most important artifact in their humble treasure trove, which was a small globe keychain. The mouse couldn’t help but smile as he held the world in his hands.

Pinky walked away from the sardine can and took in the surroundings of his home. “Poit! I’m going to miss this old place,” He sadly sighed before hugging the exercise wheel.

Brain pondered for a moment before an unusual thought hit him. “I know this is going to sound preposterous, but I don’t see why we couldn’t take our cage as well.”

Pinky gasped, his eyes widening in excitement. “You mean it, Brain?”

“Whatever makes you happy, my dear Pinky.” Brain responded with a chuckle.

Pinky enveloped Brain in a tight hug and spun him around. “Narf! Oh, thank you Brain!”

“Yes, yes, now please put me down before you crush my lungs.” Brain commanded. Pinky sheepishly placed him back on the ground and carefully patted his back.

But the floor started to rumble when Wakko held up the cage. “Alright dads, let’s blow this joint!”

But the classic phrase caused Pinky to wear a stern frown. “No chance, young toon!” He chastised. “Smoking is terrible for your health! I had to help Brain kick his addiction to cigarettes, and I am not going to see you go down that same path!”

“But why would you think I like a disgusting hobby like that?” Wakko asked defensively.

Brain pinched the bridge of his brows. “Pinky, Wakko was not referring to smoking when he said let’s blow this joint. It’s a common phrase people say before they leave an undesired location, much like how we should be leaving this God-forsaken lab!”

Pinky’s frown transformed into a giddy smile. “Oh, well thanks for clearing that up for me, Brain! Troz!”

With the mix-up now resolved, the trio left the room, leaving the second home the mice had come to accept.

After exiting the building, they noticed that the truck was all packed up. Every cage was carefully placed in the truck bed, with elastic wires securing the top shelf. Skippy had closed the driver’s seat door, ready to take everyone to their next location.

Dot alerted her sibling and the mice from the open passenger seat door. “Come on!”

Wakko clutched the cage to their chest and sprinted towards the truck. They hopped in, settling in between their siblings. Dot closed the door, giving Skippy the cue to start the engine.

Pinky and Brain sat comfortably in their cage, as they were surrounded by the toon siblings. The mice were glad that everyone was safe and sound.

Yakko noticed the mice settling some items that were stored in the old tin can. “So what do you have there?” The teen curiously inquired.

“Just some valuable keepsakes.” Brain softly replied.

“Like our son Romy’s wonderful drawing of Brain!” Pinky showed off the picture of Brain dressed up as a traditional circus clown.

“Well, that’s an accurate portrait, if I do say so myself.” Yakko quipped.

Brain raised his brow in frustration, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at the teen.

“Oh, Brain!” Pinky alerted him by tapping his shoulder. “Dot was the one who came up with the clever rescue plan!” He praised in a sing-song voice.

The shorter mouse looked over at the Warner sister with a pleasantly surprised smile. “So that genius plan was all your doing?”

Dot perked up at the praise. “Yes, it was.” She answered while flashing a confident smile.

Brain walked up to the other side of the cage and placed his hand through the bars to pat her hand. “I’m incredibly proud of you, Dot.” He said. “If you keep exercising your keen mind, you just might be as intelligent as I am.”

“Or maybe I might be even more intelligent than you are right now.” Dot teased.

Brain’s smile changed into an offended scowl. “Alright young lady, let’s not get cocky here.”

Suddenly, Wakko let out a horrified gasp. “Dadoo, you just said a swear word!”

“Have you no shame? ” Dot added in feigned scorn.

“You star in a children’s show for goodness sake, you have a wholesome image to maintain!” Yakko chided.

Brain let out an exasperated groan as he buried his face into his paws. He could hear Yakko, Wakko, and Dot’s bubbly giggles, no doubt savoring his annoyed reaction. But as his frustration started to simmer, a small smile began to form as he was immensely grateful to be in their presence once more. He would gladly take playful jabs at his pride over inane and cruel experiments any day.

Skippy started up the truck and began to drive off, leaving a visible dust cloud as it zoomed away from the premises. Brain looked at the toon siblings, glad that their weekend had turned out well despite some difficult setbacks. He debated whether or not he should bring up their brief moment of captivity at Acme Labs to the CEO.

Brain’s eyes widened in shock as he remembered one crucial detail he had forgotten about. “Oh, shoot, the credit card!” He anxiously yelled. “I must have left it in the park along with my mechanical suit!”

Pinky immediately rushed over towards his partner’s side, taking his hand and rubbing it in soothing motions. “Now, Brain, it’s not the end of the world.”

“But it’ll be the end of our careers if we don’t return it to her.” Brain moaned.

The Warners sympathetically stared at the mice. “Aw, chin up guys, I’m sure it’s at the park.” Yakko offered. “Hey Skippy, would it be too much trouble if we made a pit stop?”

“No worries,” Skippy assured while keeping his focus on the road.

From the comfort of the cage, Brain inspected the adult Squirrel’s reflection in the rearview mirror. Time was certainly kind to him. He looked to be in shape and relatively healthy for a squirrel his age. Brain then thought about the young man’s aunt. It had been so long since he and Pinky interacted with the geriatric toon veteran. He could easily recount the moment they first met.

-                      -                         -                         -                 -               -

Warner Movie Lot, 1992

Brain tugged Pinky by the wrist as they scurried into the sound stage. He spent the last ten minutes watching Pinky work up the courage to ask Marvin the Martian to sign his scrapbook, his little pet project to document his part-time job on Animaniacs. Luckily, the toon veteran was gracious enough to sign his autograph into Pinky’s special book. Pinky nearly fainted from the act of kindness, but Brain managed to catch his roommate before meeting impact on the ground. The smaller mouse courteously thanked Marvin for the gesture and helped Pinky back up on his feet.

“Pinky, this is the last time your frantic search for autographs interferes with our schedule.” Brain chastised. The mouse knew how much Pinky’s happiness meant to him, but his new job was just as important. The mice were lucky that they landed the job as supporting actors for a promising variety show, and Brain planned to use his newfound celebrity status to sway the masses into submission. The one drawback to his plan was how the writers were steadfast in wanting to portray him as a lovable failure rather than an important authority figure. But the mouse chose not to dwell on this flaw. He could work through the demeaning material if it guaranteed adoration from impressionable viewers.

“Poit! I’m sorry Brain,” Pinky apologized.

The mice made their way onto the stage, joining the large and colorful cast members. Brain let go of Pinky’s wrist to check his wristwatch. It was 11:27 AM. The mouse released a sigh of relief. They arrived right on time.

Brain turned his attention back towards Pinky. “No need to fret, Pinky. At least we made it on time.”

The mice swiftly joined the rest of the cast on the sound stage. They had made their acquaintances with most of the main cast. Pinky became swift friends with practically everyone on the set, and everyone except Pesto returned the affection. Brain was a little more skeptical, though he did express his fondness for Hello Nurse’s brilliant mind.

Just then, the voluptuous intellect, donned in her traditional nurse’s uniform, walked by the mice, but not without a friendly greeting. “Pinky, Brain.” She politely addressed them with a smile.

“Ah, greetings Heloise.” Brain politely replied with a nod.

“Hi, Hello Nurse!” Pinky chirped while waving at her.

Soon afterward, a middle-aged man with black hair sporting a light blue tuxedo approached the sound stage and looked at the various actors. Brain had seen him quite a handful of times on the movie lot. Mr. Director was his name, and he tried to assert his dominance and so-called ‘comedic genius’ wherever he went.

“Alright, look alive people!” Mr. Director commanded in a serious tone. “Since this show is poised to become a comedy smash, I took it upon myself to direct the remaining portions to this show’s opening theme. And with my comedic genius, I will do everything within my power to ensure that this opening will be memorable and, most importantly, fun-”

But the pompous director was interrupted when a trio of toon siblings bounced into the building. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner stepped in time as they bounded near the sound stage. “Boingy! Boingy! Boingy!” They chorused.

The siblings then leaped onto Mr. Director, who started to panic as the zany children demolished his boundaries.

“Hey there, sweetheart!” Yakko teased with a sly smile before giving him a comedic smooch on the cheek.

But Mr. Director was not having any of it. “Enough with the kissing, and the hugging, and the teasing!” He whined in an obnoxious, nasally voice.

The toons wordlessly hopped off of him and made their way to the set. As they scanned the wide and colorful cast, they immediately set their sights on the rodent duo they recently befriended. The children bounded over towards Pinky and Brain and dug their heels into the ground as they screeched to a grinding halt.

“Hi!!!” The Warners greeted the mice.

“Hello, children!” Pinky exclaimed with a wave.

“‘Sup?” Brain muttered sardonically as he dug his hand into his fur pocket.

“Thanks for taking us to McDonald’s the other day,” Wakko mentioned as he pulled out his little toy truck from his hammerspace. “Now I get to play with my Happy Meal Toy all day long!”

Mr. Director quickly took attendance of all the cast members to be featured in the grand finale. He then gave a sharp whistle, alerting everyone in the room.

“Alright, almost everyone is here. But the only two people missing are Slappy and Skippy Squirrel.”

“Present!” A rough voice barked.

Everyone turned to see a grey squirrel with a green cap guiding a younger brown squirrel into the sound stage. The elderly squirrel wore a sour frown as she led her nephew to the sound stage.

But Mr. Director stopped the squirrels. “And where have you been?”

“Stuck in traffic.” The geriatric squirrel spat.

“Sorry, sir,” The younger squirrel mentioned. “My aunt Slappy is a bit cranky.”

“Cranky? I need you to be funny!” Mr. Director chastised. “And on top of that, I can’t work with toons who don’t show up on time or aren’t funny!”

But the director felt the blunt force of the squirrel’s green purse as it hammered his head, causing him to shout “Flauvein!” in his nasal tone.

Slappy grinned as she turned her attention to her impressionable nephew. “Now you see, Skippy, you should always take a purse with you whenever you leave the house.” She advised while she opened up her green bag. “That way, you can easily carry your most valued possessions around wherever you go. Such as your money, your car keys, and your heavy cinder block!”

Skippy quickly took out his crayon and notebook from his hammerspace, flipping through the pages until he reached a blank page, which happened to be the second to last page. As the squirrel jotted down the important lesson, he was unaware that his sage aunt was observing her pupil writing down her advice.

Slappy looked over her nephew’s shoulder and was quite impressed with the nearly full notebook. “You got a lot of notes there, huh kiddo?”

“Well, I do have a good teacher!” Skippy complimented with a smile. Slappy let out a small snort before playfully ruffling Skippy’s hair.

Once he gathered his bearings, Mr. Director proceeded to get the shoot over and done with before he received any more comical amounts of pain.  “Alright, places people!” He shouted in his nasal voice.

The mice tried to find their place. Brain knew that the Warners were supposed to take center stage since they were the main stars. The smaller mouse scanned the area for possible spots for Pinky and himself. He settled on standing behind Wakko and ahead of the two squirrels. He tugged Pinky to the desired spot and waited for the director to give out their cue.

“And action!” Mr. Director commanded.

Pinky and Brain followed their cues as they raised their arms in the air alongside their co-workers.

“We’re Animaney! Totally Insane-”

“Cut!” The director yelled. He stood up from his director’s chair and began to chastise the many actors. “Wakko, stop sticking your tongue out! Hippos, you need to switch places with Ralph and Chicken Boo. Goodfeathers, I need more feeling from you three! And where on earth are Pinky and The Brain?”

The other cast members murmured amongst themselves as they did what they were told. Many of them scanned around the room in the hopes of finding their diminutive co-stars.

Brain let out an exasperated sigh. It was moments like this that he wished he was of human stature. Pinky looked over to his frustrated roommate and softly patted his head.

Unbeknownst to the mice, Slappy looked down to find the pair of white mice standing in front of her. The elderly squirrel let out a groan as she bent down. She scooped up the two mice in her hands and lifted them for all to see.

“Found ‘em!” She gruffly called out.

The squirrel stared at the two white mice in her hands. The tall lanky one gazed in shock with his big blue eyes. The smaller, and much chubbier, mouse crossed his arms and furrowed his brows as he gave a menacing stare with his pink eyes.

Despite Brain’s serious demeanor, Slappy couldn’t help but smirk at the adorable display. “You’re not a morning person either, I take it?” She humored.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Brain replied. “And I greatly dislike being touched without permission.”

The squirrel was admittedly surprised by how such a small mouse could have a deep voice. But she could sympathize with his complaints. “Well, that makes two of us.”

Pinky, on the other hand, was trying his hardest to contain his excitement. One of the Looney Tunes was holding him and Brain in her hands!

Slappy noticed Pinky’s heavy breathing and tilted her head in mild concern. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m Pinky!” He blurted out.

Brain rubbed his temples as he felt the wave of secondhand embarrassment course through him.

But Mr. Director noticed the way the squirrel held the mice and was immediately inspired.

“That’s perfect!” He bellowed from the director’s chair, catching everyone’s attention. “Slappy, keep holding the mice just like so! Not only will the mice be visible to the viewers, but it greatly symbolizes the passing of the torch, with you, the elderly toon, raising the eager newcomers! Oh, I am such a genius!”

Slappy and Brain looked at each other with incredulous expressions. This pretentious director was trying to find meaning in every pose. But Pinky did not seem to mind.

Fortunately, the rest of the filming went off without issue, as the mice followed their cues along with the rest of the cast. Pinky couldn’t shake off the excitement of being held by one of his favorite cartoon stars. Brain, on the other hand, secretly liked being lifted in a way that showcased his importance.

Once filming wrapped, Slappy placed the mice back on the ground, but not without feeling a shot of pain course through her hip.

“Are you alright?” Pinky asked worriedly.

“Eh, it’s nothin’ to worry about.” The elderly squirrel dismissed.

Pinky suddenly became nervous again. He wanted to ask the squirrel to sign his scrapbook, but he was afraid of getting rejected.

Brain noticed Pinky’s apprehension and deduced that it had something to do with obtaining another autograph in his precious scrapbook. So he decided to motivate his friend to gather his courage the best way he knew how.

“Oh, just ask her already!” Brain barked with an annoyed frown.

Pinky obeyed Brain’s command and decided to take a leap of faith. “Poit! Oh, um, Slappy? May I please have your autograph for my scrapbook?” He shyly asked.

Slappy cocked her brow up in interest but decided to oblige the humble request. “Yeah, sure.” She replied while taking out a pen from her purse. “It’s been a while since anyone asked, but I aim to please my fans.”

Pinky smiled as he handed her his scrapbook. Slappy opened up the book and flipped through the pages. Skippy peered over her shoulder, wanting to take a gander at the scrapbook. The first page featured a colored photograph of the mice standing in a meeting room posing with the show’s executive producer. She flipped through the pages to find snapshots of the mice working on set, pictures of their co-stars, and various crew members. The latter half of the scrapbook was filled with autographs from various Looney Tunes and Hanna Barbera stars. She found a blank page and decided to write her name in big bold letters.

Pinky also noted Skippy’s interest and thought up a fun-fun, silly-willy idea. “Oh, you can also sign my scrapbook too if you’d like! Troz!”

Skippy was stunned. Someone wanted to have his autograph?! Even though he was young, he was aware of his aunt’s legacy in show business and had some doubts that he might never live up to her expectations. But with the humble request of his co-star, he began to feel hopeful that he might be seen as an equal.

Slappy happily handed the scrapbook and pen to her nephew. “Go at it, Skippy!”

Skippy signed his name underneath his aunt’s signature before passing the book back to the jolly mouse.

“Wow, my very first fan…” Skippy exhaled.

“Try not to let the fame get to your head, kiddo.” Slappy teased as she patted his head.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Pinky said excitedly, hugging the scrapbook close to his chest.

Slappy looked at the two mice and smiled. Feeling less cranky than she was when she arrived at the studio, she decided that it would be best to get to know her co-workers more. “Why don’t you two come with us,” The squirrel offered. “Speedy Gonzalez is supposed to be joining me for lunch, and I think he would get a kick out of meeting some up-and-coming rodent toons.”

Brain then felt the need to correct the misinformed toon veteran. “Actually, Pinky and I are genetically altered lab mice who were mistaken to be toons by the studio executives and only accepted this job so we could take over the world by gaining the love and adoration of the impressionable children and their parents.”

Slappy stared at the mice with incredulous eyes. While the mice appeared to be quite animated, she could buy that they were, in fact, actual lab mice. She also noted that he was equally honest about his acting career. “So you’re serious about getting into the business?” She questioned. The Brain stared at her as she did not immediately dismiss his claim in jest, but gave her an affirmative nod to her inquiry.

“You got a lot of gumption, I’ll give ya that,” Slappy said in earnest. “But I’ll show ya the ropes if you really wanna stand out.”

“But I already have jump ropes back at the lab,” Pinky explained. Brain shook his head at his roommate’s inane response and swiftly bopped him on top of his head. Pinky guffawed as he saw the colorful stars swirl around his head.

Skippy laughed at the mice’s antics. The bubbly giggle reached Slappy’s ears and she promptly looked over at her nephew. While Skippy was an impressionable kid, he was particularly picky when it came to entertainment. She learned the hard way that classic animated tearjerkers were a big no-no unless she wanted to sacrifice most of her bank account to pay for his therapy sessions. And it was hard to find a decent cartoon nowadays that wasn’t based on a preexisting IP or a shameless thirty-minute toy commercial. But clearly, these two rodents seemed to have as much chemistry as Laurel and Hardy.

Slappy looked over at her nephew once more before turning back to the mice. The elderly toon let out an amused snort. “You two have comedic potential.”

As the rodents were about to leave the set, they heard an audible cough coming from Mr. Director. The pretentious filmmaker stopped the group in their tracks. He was not ready to let them leave so soon. “Now, may I have a word with Pinky?”

“Only if they have a vowel,” Pinky replied with a serious nod.

“Great! Now Pinky, sweetheart, your performance was swell, but we need to improve your overall image.” The director critiqued. “Now you’re a funny little guy, but you’re not funny ‘ha-ha’, but funny ‘ho-ho’, and the reason you’re not funny ‘ha-ha’ is because of your buck teeth. No one wants to watch a cartoon character with buck teeth. A cartoon character with big feet, absolutely! But not with buck teeth, oh no. Fortunately, I know a handful of dentists who would love to fix your teeth, for a reasonable price of course.”

Pinky’s happy grin slowly transformed into a dismayed frown as he took in the criticisms the director hurled at him. He pressed his fingers against his overbite with concern, unaware of the fact that Skippy was also starting to feel insecure about his front teeth. Was he not a pretty mouse?

“Do you mean to say that I’m….ugly?” Pinky sadly asked, trying his best to fight back the oncoming tears.

“Well, objectively speaking, yes.” Mr. Director replied flatly.

Pinky whimpered as the tears flowed down his face. While he knew that ugly people can be beautiful in their own way, it still hurt to be on the receiving end of such mean words. Screwing his eyes shut, he clutched his tail as he started to cry his heart out.

Brain felt his heart go out to poor Pinky. But then his flaming fury began to take hold. Brain balled his paws into fists as he growled at the superficial filmmaker. No one, not even himself, could insult Pinky’s outward appearance.

“How dare you make my friend cry, you hack!” Brain snapped at the director. “Pinky is a beautiful and charming-looking soul, both on the inside and on the outside, and I do not take kindly to anyone who dares to mock his appearance! Especially from Jerry Lewis look-alikes!”

Mr. Director gasped in shock. “No you listen here, you son of a-”

But Slappy silently intervened, swinging around her green purse while wearing an indignant frown.

“Or maybe, let’s not with the hitting, and the smashing of the head with the purse.” He drawled in his nasal voice as he cowered away to the side.

“Well, if you insist.” Slappy cooly replied before hitting the director’s gut with her purse. The director let out a cry of pain as he clutched his stomach and fell to his knees.

Slappy smirked as she placed the purse across her shoulder, glad to have pushed the director off of his high horse. She looked over at her new companions, as Pinky scooped Brain up into a tight hug.

“Oh thank you, Brain!” Pinky cheered.

Brain instinctively kicked his tiny feet as his taller friend nuzzled his cheek. “You’re welcome Pinky,” He replied as he tried his hardest to keep his composure. “Now please put me down.”

Pinky immediately respected Brain’s wishes and carefully placed him back on the ground.

Much to Slappy’s surprise, Skippy stepped forward to speak to the mice. “Pinky, I think you look fine just the way you are!”

Pinky blushed lightly at the compliment. “Zort! Oh, you’re far too kind!”

“And Brain, you did a very good thing by standing up to that jerk.” Skippy praised. “Pinky must be lucky to have a nice friend like you.” ”

Brain felt himself smiling at the sincere compliment. But the smile vanished when he remembered that he had a serious image to maintain. “I am many things, the young squirrel,” Brain addressed, but his mind started to blank. “whose name I do not know at the moment.”

“Skippy!” The young squirrel happily responded.

“Right.” Brain agreed. “I am many things, Skippy Squirrel. A mouse of superior intellect, a future world leader, and an up and coming rhythmic gymnastics athlete.” He listed off his attributes with his fingers. “But with that said, I am not nice.”

“Oh, yes you are, Brain!” Pinky playfully teased as he squished his friend’s chubby cheeks.

Brain merely crossed his arms and shot an indignant glare. “Cease your prodding, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you!” He bitterly commanded, and the taller mouse sheepishly hid his hands behind his back.

“Now that’s comedy!” Slappy chuckled at their antics. She could easily find herself watching a whole sitcom starring these two goobers. While the mice didn’t seem to be the ‘bomb-and-anvil’ types (the superior school of comedy in her book), they more than made up for it with their humorous banter and contrasting personalities.

The shorter mouse then turned his attention to the geriatric squirrel. “Of course, your aunt did most of the heavy lifting, so to speak, by standing up for us. And, as I’m loath to admit it, I am in your debt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Slappy dismissed as she waved her hand down. “So are you two comin’ to lunch with us or what?”

“Count me in!” Pinky cheered.

“Yes.” Brain agreed.

Skippy knelt on one knee and extended an open hand in front of the mice. “Can I pick you up?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Brain allowed, deducing that they would reach the commissary faster by hitching a ride on the young squirrel as opposed to walking on foot.

“Oh, goodie! We’re going on a ride! Narf!” Pinky exclaimed as the younger squirrel lifted him and his best friend off the ground.

Slappy smiled at her shorter co-stars as the group started on their merry way. “I have the feelin’ that this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

-                      -                         -                         -                 -               -

The truck came to a stop, bringing Brain back to the present. Picking up a small bent paper clip, he trotted over towards the cage door and picked the lock. As he swung the door open, Wakko turned the cage around and allowed the mice to hop into his hands before placing them on top of his hat. The rodents stared out the window to see the sun dipping low over the park. As the Warners and the mice hopped out of the car, Skippy quickly paid the parking meter before joining the group.

“Poit! Hey Brain, do you think it would be best if we released the mice here?” Pinky asked as he wrung his paws together.

Brain took a moment to think about it and realized that Pinky had a point. He remembered seeing the frightened expressions of the field mice as they were ripped apart from their home in the wild. It would only be fair to return them to their home.

“You’re right, Pinky.” Brain commended his partner, gently taking his paw into his own.

The toons overheard the conversation and were quick to act. “We’re way ahead of you!” Yakko affirmed as he started to unload the truck bed.

“Now, the only thing I need to do is find the suit.” Brain mentioned.

“It’s over there, Dadoo!” Wakko alerted, pointing a finger over towards a largely abandoned suit in the middle of the park.

“I can help free the others while you go fetch your giant suit! Narf!” Pinky told him before hopping off Wakko’s hat and falling to the grass.

“I’ll help you get it!” Wakko declared as he broke out into a sprint. Brain steadied himself in the middle sibling’s hold as he ran across the field.

Yakko, Dot, and Skippy retrieved all the cages that housed the various mice. Pinky stared at his fellow rodents. He recognized some from the various experiments, from the maze runs to the makeup tests. The other mice started to claw anxiously at the glass upon recognizing their domain. Pinky hoped that the mice that were captured earlier could be reunited with their families while his familiar companions could find better lives with their fellow rodents in the field.

“Let the mice run free!” Pinky declared.

The toons and the squirrel opened up the lids and placed the cages sideways, allowing the mice to escape. Pinky smiled as he watched the mice scatter across the field, many of which were getting reacquainted with the softness of the green grass. Many of the former lab residents instinctively followed the field mice. Pinky blinked away the tears of joy that formed. He prayed that the mice would have happier days ahead of them.

Meanwhile, Wakko managed to reach the suit without any issue. Brain was thankful that the suit was right where he left it.

Wakko lowered their hands to the ground to let Brain down. The mouse hopped off and ran towards the right side of the suit, noticing the wallet was still snug within the pant pocket. Brain was relieved that no one had pilfered the suit for any valuables. The mouse reached into the pocket and used every ounce of his strength to retrieve the wallet. Pinky sprinted towards his beau’s side and helped him pull the wallet out. With a tug, the mice successfully fished out the wallet, which opened up. Brain looked to see the familiar glow of the company credit card and breathed a sigh of relief. He no longer had to fear the CEO’s wrath.

At that moment, Yakko, Dot, and Skippy reunited with the group as Dot carried Pinky on top of her head. The golden light coming from the wallet indicated that the card was still there and the mice no longer had to worry about losing their acting jobs.

Brain decided to check the engines to make sure that the suit was still fully functional. Opening up the right shoe, he entered the metallic footwear, climbed up the leg, and hopped in the pilot’s seat. Pinky hopped off of Dot, anxiously waiting for Brain’s giant head to pop up at the top. Meanwhile, Brain pulled the lever and the seat rose to the very top.

The others looked at the head hole with bated breath until Brain’s large cranium popped out.

“Honey, I’m home!” Brain drawled in a near-monotone voice.

While Brain moved the suit back on its feet, Pinky clutched his stomach as he laughed. “Oh, that’s a funny joke, Brain! Narf!”

“I’m not devoid of humor.” Brain replied as he picked Pinky up and placed him in the front pocket.

The Warners reached into their hammerspaces and pulled out their bingo cards, which were filled with various callbacks from the original Animaniacs. Yakko quickly placed a stamp over the ‘References to Win Big’ block. “Bingo!” The eldest Warner shouted as he proudly waved his bingo sheet, causing Wakko and Dot to groan in defeat.

Skippy pulled out his smartphone and decided to move forward with the final phase of the plan. He went to his contacts to search for his aunt’s name. Once he found her name, he pressed the green call button and pressed the phone to the side of his head.

After a moment, he heard his aunt’s cantankerous voice. “Hello,”

“Hey Aunt Slappy,” Skippy casually replied. “Just wanna give you the heads up that the lab is now abandoned and everyone’s safe. The ball is in your court now.”

“Lemme tell ya, it’s great to be back in business!” Slappy remarked from inside her secret hideout. The geriatric rodent reclined in her seat as she operated the control panel, no doubt eager for the signal to open fire on the lab.

“Right now we’re at the park getting Brain’s mechanical human suit,” Skippy informed her. “We’ll be back in about five minutes or so.”

“Say, why don’t you kids stay at the park for a few more minutes?” Slappy asked as she geared up the missiles from her control panel. “I’ll make sure to give you kids a little fireworks show as a treat!”

“Sounds like fun.” Skippy chirped. “And you can fire when ready.”

“Oh I’m always ready,” Slappy confidently announced before ending the phone call.

Skippy put his phone away and turned around to face the others. “My aunt’s gonna put on a little fireworks show.” He mentioned.

“Ooh, fireworks!” Pinky exclaimed.

Wakko eagerly climbed up the suit and perched himself on top of Brain’s shoulders. “And I get to have the best seat in the house!”

“No fair! You got to sit on top of him last time!” Dot argued as she climbed up the suit. “Daddy, tell Wakko to move!”

“Now cease your squabbling, children!” Brain commanded. “You can both sit on my shoulders as long as you two apologize.”

Dot took the big-headed mouse’s words to heart. “Wakko, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“And I’m sorry for hogging the seat,” Wakko replied.

“Aww, it’s so nice to see you kids get along.” Pinky cooed as he felt Yakko pluck him from the suit pocket.

Suddenly, a wave of missiles flew over their heads and proceeded to descend towards the infamous laboratory that sat underneath the suspension bridge. Within seconds, a loud explosion could be heard from miles away as the laboratory was reduced to rubble.

Suddenly, a few fireworks launched into the air, decorating the sky with glittering colored lights.

Skippy held out his smartphone, filming the whole spectacle to show to his aunt later.

Wakko and Dot cheered at the sparkling display, and Brain couldn’t help but smile at the two toon children perched on his shoulders. He looked past Wakko to see Pinky contently sitting in Yakko’s hands, and watching the colored lights reflected from his soft blue eyes.

Yakko let out a peaceful sigh. After pulling off a daring rescue, it was nice to be reunited with his loved ones once more. And the surprise fireworks show was a nice way to cap off an eventful day. He looked up at his siblings, happy to see them have the time of their lives and fawning over Brain. Yakko took another glance at Pinky. To his surprise, the mouse looked up at Yakko and gave him a friendly smile. There was so much affection stored in Pinky’s face that it would be a crime not to smile back.

“Are you enjoying the pretty fireworks, love?” Pinky asked the teen.

“Oh absolutely!” Yakko replied with a smile.

Pinky eagerly clapped his paws together. “Zort! Well, it makes me happy that you’re happy!”

With that, the lanky mouse smiled at the toon once more before turning his attention back to the bright lights that decorated the night sky.

“I could get used to this,” Yakko thought to himself.

Brain continued to admire the fireworks when he heard a small metallic sound coming from his side. He peered over his shoulder to find Yakko resting his head against the mechanical suit’s chest. The wholesome sight humbled Brain. Yakko had been forced to be the parental figure for his younger siblings for far too long, so it was nice to see him act like a regular kid. But it deeply moved Brain to learn that Yakko now trusted him and Pinky to be his parental figures.

So Brain decided it was best to return the affection. With deft hands, he swiftly moved the lever to guide the right hand on top of Yakko’s head and proceeded to gently ruffle his hair.

They all watched the night sky as one last firework exploded, showering the dark canvas with glittering green lights. The sparkling lights spelled out the phrase “Now That’s Comedy!”

The Warners clapped at the fireworks display. Brain looked over at Pinky, who was in awe of the dazzling green lights. He looked over at the fireworks and let out a small chuckle. “The old dame’s still got it.”

Hello!

Firstly, I want to apologize for not updating this story sooner. I have had a lot of things going on in my personal life, one of which is a passion project I am excited to share with you all. I and my friend Mitchekie have put together an unofficial Pinky and The Brain podcast called Poitcast, which is set to premiere in July. We've already recorded two episodes and it's been a wonderful labor of love and I hope that you can take the time to listen to the pilot episode when it drops.

The main reason why this chapter took much longer to write because I wanted to come up with a creative idea for the rescue mission. After some brainstorming, I decided to incorporate Slappy and Skippy into the story. Both characters were a lot of fun to write for and they'll appear again in the next chapter.

Fortunately, there are only two chapters left and they are significantly shorter. The next chapter is halfway done and the last chapter is a brief epilogue, so the hiatuses will not be as long.

I want to thank Mitchekie for beta-reading this chapter.

And finally, I want to thank you, dear reader, for sticking with this story and being patient in between chapters. I love writing this story and I am glad that this story has received a lot of love.

Please leave a kudos or a review if you can! Thanks for reading!

[kate-likes-this]

Pedro for ShortList (08-24/17)

By Chris Sayer • Photographer: Tom Oldham Related: photoshoot / list of articles 

He was right there, moments ago, obediently standing on his mark at the centre of our makeshift hotel-room-photostudio, giving our photographer a display of facial  dexterity you’d expect from a caffeine-jacked children’s presenter.  “More teeth! Wide eyes! Eyebrow! Eyebrow!” - the photographer effortlessly pulling the puppet strings of Pedro Pascal’s boyish, happy-despite-a-case-of-chronic-jetlag face.

Then he’s gone. And the screaming hen-party in the room next door is one uninvited guest up.

Rumours that  male stripper is sending the women  on the other side of the wall into a frenzy have got the better of him. While the rest of us, shackled to the set by our polite British sensibilities, titter and giggle at the thought of a greased-up strongboy thrusting the buffet table, only the Chilean in the room has the cool brass cojones to unstick from his mark and storm door one over to get eyeful. 

Those cool brass cojones, we’re about to find out, are an inherited asset to which Pascal owes a lot more than just a cheeky peek inside a hen party. 

The Exile

Pedro Pascal has led a life punctuated by tyrannical, blood-soaked despots. and of them all, Augusto Pinochet, the Chilean dictator who called for the heads of Pedro Pascal’s parents, seems like as good as any for us to kick off with. But first, booze

“Tequila’s one of the things that’ll keep me awake,” 42-yr-old Pascal says, now sitting across from me at the hotelbar, confirming he’s still in the fug of mixed time zones. He reaches out for the waiter, who promptly mistakes Pascal’s request of Herradura Anejo for Kahula before both agree on a Don Julio. 

“With fresh lime juice, on the rocks,” he adds. “Tequila to stay awake, fresh lime to avoid scurvy.” My ‘make that two’ gesture may well be the most transparent and desperate to please Pascal’s ever had to endure. But blindly following suit soon pays off. If I hadn’t ordered the hard stuff before hearing him recount the tale of how his parents were forced, and miraculously managed, to flee Chile with a 9-month-old Pedro in their arms, I sure would have done afterwards. 

“Theywere activists,” he begins, starting a story that hasn’t had any of  its honor diluted by the years since 1976. “The story, as I understand it, is that there was a gun fight. Somebody had been shot in the leg, and a priest, knowing my father was the resident doctor of Santiago’s Catholic University, brought the wounded man to our home to tend his wounds. After my father patched him up, he was hidden in our home for a number of days. In that time, the priest had been captured, taken in custody, and tortured for information. He gave names, my parents’ identities were added to a list, and the regime came looking for them.” 

Pascal raises his drink to his lips, his ice cubes clinking, a pre-emptive toast to the bravery, luck and gravity of what followed for his parents.

“They were forced into hiding for 6 months. In that time, they staked out the Venezuelan Embassy and worked out the miniscule window of opportunity they had to vault over the embassy walls to claim asylum, and find safety. They knew that, during their shift change, there was a moment when one guard would leave his post for the bus, as the entering guard was stepping off the bus. That was their tiny window, and they went for it. They climbed over the walls with me and, even  with the guards inside trying to kick them out, managed to explain how their lives were in danger and knew the protocol for claiming asylum. It was pretty smart, and f*cking lucky to be honest with you.” 

Successfully escaping the terrors of Pinochet’s torture camps and a fate similar to that of fellow activists -which, according to US government documents declassified in 2015, included being burned alive - the Pascals were gifted asylum in Denmark, before a Chilean doctor 1 year later offered Pascal’s father a position at his laboratory in San Antonio, Texas. 

“It’s strange, because in a weird way there’s something so removed about the dramatic elements of the story. They exist more as ghosts in my experience of growing up, because I was a baby when it all happened. And it’s a story I've only really managed to unpack as an adult. When the subject was approached, I wouldn’t say I got much resistance from him, it wasn’t off limits, but clearly, it was something that was a little too fresh to talk about.” 

I ask him how he feels about us being in a country - one he called home for 4 months earlier this years while filming Matthew Vaughn’s upcoming Kingsman: The Golden Circle - governed by a political party that still idolises Margaret Thatcher, a woman who openly named Pinochet as a “true friend” and actively lobbied against his prosecution for war crimes. 

Pascal closes his mouth, conjures an invisible key out of thin air, uses it to slowly lock padlock on his lips, and then tosses it away. His gesture speaks volumes. It’s a firm but fair full-stop to question, until...

“I can’t talk sh*t about her in the UK, can I?”

I assure him that whatever he’s about to tell me, someone else is probably saying something far worse right now.

“Okay, I’m going to put it this way. I remember seeing The Iron Lady. I got really upset about how soft, charming and cute the movie was. And, as great as Meryl Streep was, I was very uncomfortable, not with her portrayal, but the movie as a whole. That movie. That movie was full of sh*t. Let’s leave it at that. You’re sure I can’t get into trouble by talking about Margaret Thatcher, right?” 

States of Safety 

I pull him up on how English his accent has suddenly become. 

“Oh, it’s embarrassing. It’s because I’m hanging out with you. The instant I hear it, I can’t help but emulate it.” 

Pascal’s mimetic abilities no doubt came in useful during formative years in the US, primarily in Orange County, California. He’s visibly embarrassed to admit they were filled with “the white privilege the world suffers from to degree”. He tells me about the time he got drunk at a roller derby and saw a young up-and-coming local band called No Doubt. He talks about cable TV.  Spielberg films. He talks of doodling on his hand in class - a doodle that would later become permanent fixture as a bullseye tattoo at the corner of his thumb & forefinger. He talks as if he’s lived the perfect posters-inside-of-your-high-school-locker US existence  that was beamed around the globe in kids’ TV shows like Saved By The Bell. Chile was every single one of the 5,800 miles away for Pascal. 

Even so, he still managed to fall into the clutches of his second tyrannical despot. Although, this was one that would leave an impression on his childhood from the pages of his favorite book, in the shape of a villainous rabbit. 

“It’s very anti-communist that book, isn’t it.” He says of Watership Down, a book he classes as a defining read and, unarguably, should have been more relatable and real to him than any of his fellow classmates. 

“I do remember a traumatising experience as far as the movie was concerned. My dad took me to see what thought was a cartoon, and he was faced with rabbits ripping each other apart in fields of blood. After that, I got around to reading the book for assignment, and I remember it being so thrilling that I’d often catch myself standing up without realising to read it.” 

The Long Game 

If Pascal’s first 9 months are the basis for an Oscar-winning political thriller, and his childhood in Orange County a script for a mid-morning children’s sitcom, his years before hitting the Game Of Thrones payload is the grafting-actor-done-good biopic. It’s a classic, with 20 lousy restaurant jobs quit in  favour of small-time TV parts and commercials leading up to the crack at the Big Time. 

“Oh, it was more than 20,” he admits, taking us back to the time long before growing a top-shagger ‘tache for Game Of Thrones’ Oberyn Martell, and later the cartel-crushing ‘tache of DEA hero Javier Peña in Netflix smash Narcos. 

“First, I wasn’t very good at it. Second, I would always prioritise acting over waiting tables, and third, I’m just not very good with authority.” 

Which brings us neatly to tyrannical despot three, and maybe four, or lord knows how many depending on what cliff-hanging marker you’ve reached in George RR Martin and HBO’s claret-soaked fantasy universe. The story of Pascal’s acquisition, shall we say, of the Oberyn role and set up to the diving board hanging over stopped-in-the-street success, is a well-trodden tale and one that can be condensed down to: Pascal helps his graduate mentee prepare for his first taped audition; realises this was the role he was born to play; calls in huge favour from friend Sarah Paulson, who knows how to get a shoddy Pascal iPhone video script.reading to the right people; right people are wowed by Pascal and his riff on his father’s accent for the part; Pascal help bags himself a life-changing role that includes the most -re-enacted-down-the-pub death scene in the history of Game Of Thrones. 

“That was the best part,” he says, his lime and tequila now nearing its end. “It was really hot in Dubrovnik during the 4 days that it took to shoot that fight scene. Having my eyes gouged out meant I was lying down on my back and having cooling rivers of blood put on my face. And then I had to lay there with chunks of prosthetics on my face, which were all very cool to touch, too. They had to do take after take, apologising for it. But I’d just say: ‘Hey, yot take your f*ckin’ time.’“ 

Cartel Crusher 

By the time this interview finds its way into your hands, Pedro Pascal will be days away from the world that brought him face to face with his most recent tyrant. Netflix will be opening the hatches and preparing to drop another bomb into the faces of fans all over again, all prepared to see Pascal’s DEA agent  Javier Peña bring the Cali Cartel to its knees, all intrigued to see how the smash-hit can carry on beyond the death of its bulbous Colombian cocain baron, that dare we say, we’re all going to miss. How could we all fall fr such villainous sh*thead? 

“Oh, there definitely is a machismo fascination there. But I never felt it. I grew up afraid of drug dealers. It’s not that I judged them, I was just afraid of them. So I’m not seduced by the golden guns and the mountains, the chesty company and the suitcase of cash. I understand the appeal, but it didn’t appeal to me. But I never felt I should demonise these guys either. And that was a worry for me. With the DEA, we’re dealing with a kind of, uh, vehemently conservative culture. I was real worried about the [the real life] Steve Murphy and Javier Peña finding out how liberal-minded I actually am. I was very self-conscious about it. But that thinking, it’s just in my blood.”

Right on schedule, Pascal’s ‘people’ appear, ready to whisk him away from his now-empty tequila glass and off to see Andrew Garfield star in the 7 1/2 hr play Angels In America -the last place anyone jet lagged would want to be. I use his slow rise from his chair as an excuse to get one more question in. I begin to ask how someone who’s come from a background so deep-rooted in the left, from parents who risked everything for a liberal belief system, feels in this time of xenophobic politics and right-wing White House clownery. But he cuts me short. 

“To be really candid about that, I carry around a certain amount of shame in terms of not doing more. Like I said, liberalism is in my blood. As hard work as it is to be in the arts of any kind, or to make a living from something that you feel passionate about, just posting something on social media isn’t enough. Yeah, I marched with my sister against the Iraq war in ‘03. Yes, my family and I have always been sort of, I suppose, very liberal doers, when give the opportunity. But I don’t have the balls to give up my career and dedicate everything I have to any particular cause. And yes, right now, I feel guilty about that.”

[impressivepress]

Charlie Chaplin: Jewish Or Goyish?

As nearly as can be determined, Charlie Chaplin is virtually part Jewish almost most of the time. John McCabe, Charlie Chaplin

In March of 1978, Charlie Chaplin’s body was stolen from his tomb in Switzerland and held for ransom. Two months later it was discovered buried in a farmer’s field and returned to his wife Oona, who remarked, dryly, ‘Charlie would have found this ridiculous.’ According to rumour, the Swiss government suspected that his remains had been stolen by anti-Semitic groups, upset that a Jew should be buried in a Christian cemetery. Chaplin’s Jewishness made him an enemy of the FBI and put him on the Nazi’s list of international targets. He is perhaps one of the most famous Jews in American history hence it is all the more surprising to learn that he was not, in fact, Jewish. Since his early days as the Little Tramp, a role he assumed in 1914, Jews had believed Chaplin was secretly Jewish. The fact that his name was not Jewish was irrelevant; it was common practice for Jews to change their names when entering show business (Al Jolson was born Asa Yoelson). In the 1948 edition of a Jewish encyclopedia, Chaplin is listed as a Jewish movie star, and the name ‘Israel Thonstein’ is mentioned alongside the claim that he was from an old Eastern European Jewish family. As proof, the encyclopedia cited a 1931 article from the New York Herald Tribune, which commented upon the way Chaplin’s eyes could convey both sadness and joy in a uniquely Jewish fashion, and a Budapest Jewish paper which claimed to trace his Jewish ancestry (as Thonstein) back to Hungary.

More important than birth records and names was the fact he looked, acted and ‘felt’ Jewish. To Jewish eyes, Chaplin told Jewish stories. Famously, one critic recalled watching The Gold Rush (1925) next to a middle-aged Jewish woman: ‘Oy!’ she wailed, as the Tramp tried to escape from his on-screen tormentors, ‘What do they want with him, the goyim?!! What has he done to them?’ The Tramp, small and powerless, was taunted and hounded by authorities who hated him without reason, in what appeared to American Jews as the enactment of the Jewish condition. Hannah Arendt wrote in 1944 that Chaplin symbolised the ‘effrontery of the poor ‘little Yid’ who does not recognise the class order of the world because he sees in it neither order nor justice for himself ’. Meanwhile, in Sholem Aleichem’s 1916 story, ‘Motl in America’, the hero spends his time watching Chaplin films and extolling the virtues of free America in which a Jew like Chaplin can become rich and famous.

For film scholar Patricia Erens, the Tramp is a variation on ‘dos kleine menshele’ or ‘little man’ of Yiddish literature, the poor and long-suffering antihero, the shlemiel (a little man with no luck), and the luftmensch (the ‘man of air’ who lives on dreams). Erens cites the numerous Jewish references in Chaplin’s oeuvre, in particular the prevalence of skullcaps and Yiddish newspapers as props, and a scene in The Vagabond (1916) in which the Tramp finds a Jewish man eating pork at a buffet and helpfully changes the ‘ham’ sign to ‘beef ’. Many of the characteristics we associate with ‘acting’ Jewish—the nasal voice, the New York accent, and the verbal wit a‘ la Groucho Marx—were unavailable to the makers of silent pictures. Chaplin, however, was a dancer, an acrobat, and a pantomime extraordinaire and able to communicate other, non-verbal cultural indicators to a savvy audience—the comic shrugs, the outdated black coat, the facial pathos combined with frantic body movements, the chaotic presence that mocks the establishment. Above all, Chaplin achieved a subtle gender inversion through the graceful, almost balletic eluding of his macho tormentors. Jewish audiences recognised this physical portrayal from the Yiddish stage and read it as a visual metaphor for the disempowered Jew in a hostile world.

Across the world this misconception raged, gaining him enemies to the left and the right. The German-American Bund helped spread the rumour that Charles Spencer Chaplin was born Israel Thonstein and in the book that accompanied the Nazi propaganda film The Eternal Jew, Thonstein is cited as the maiden name for the mother of ‘The Jew, Chaplin.’ In 1948 the US Navy investigated Chaplin on suspicion of Zionist activity: shipping guns to Palestine, as well as around 36 tanks. But it was the FBI under Hoover that became Chaplin’s greatest political and legal enemy. Chaplin’s FBI file is a comprehensive laboratory for identity construction that began in 1922 and remained open until after his death. The file chronicles Chaplin’s downfall, the suspicion of Communist activities, the Mann Act trial for transporting unmarried women across state lines for deviant purposes, and further rumours and innuendo that led to his expulsion from America in 1952. Chaplin is continually described as ‘of Jewish extraction,’ given the name of ‘Thonstein’ as an alias (though there is no proof that Chaplin ever used this name himself), and assigned attributes such as ‘Jewish accent,’ ‘talks with hands,’ and Russian birth.

Crucially, it was not Jewishness that alarmed Hoover but ambiguity. According to Omer Bartov in his compelling work The Jew in Cinema, Jewish characters are often portrayed as slippery and protean, possessing an insidious ability to obscure their Jewishness and blend in. The emancipation of the Jews from the ghettos of Europe at the turn of the last century had left them free to shave and dress in modern clothing, making them impossible to detect. This new found ambiguity of Jewish identity made them, in many gentile eyes, the most dangerous minority in civilised society. Ambiguity was the dominant paranoia of Cold-War America, which felt itself threatened by the enemy within—the Communists, Jews and homosexuals who were so hard to detect. The insistence on Chaplin’s Jewishness helped reinforce the notion of an ‘authentic American’ by establishing firm conceptual borders through identity construction and categorisation.

Not only did both Jewish and gentile audiences see him as a Jew, but Chaplin himself very nearly became convinced of his own Jewishness. While he did not officially doubt his mother’s version of his parentage, in which her legal husband, Charles Chaplin, Sr., a non-Jewish pop singer, was his biological father, there were times when he clearly wondered if the questions surrounding his lineage were true, and if they were more scandalous than imagined. His step-brother Sydney had a Jewish father and the world’s insistence on Chaplin’s Jewish origins prompted him and many others to wonder whether their birth stories had in fact been reversed.

‘All geniuses,’ Chaplin was heard to remark,‘have some Jewish blood in them.’ Flattered by the widely held misconception about his Jewish identity, his understanding of Jewishness was simplistic and stereotypical: Jews were blessed with superior intellect and financial acumen than non-Jews. Further, he believed that his physical attributes compounded the myth: he was short with curly black hair, ‘Oriental facial features’, and a prominent nose. In footage taken of famed British comedian Harry Lauder’s visit to Chaplin Studios, Lauder draws Chaplin on a chalkboard. Chaplin makes great show of stopping him, pantomimes ‘too Jewish,’ and re-draws the nose. Quite how to interpret this is unclear, but Chaplin either believed himself to be Jewish or was making fun of those who did. In the absence of confirmed roots, Chaplin may have sought to align himself with a group that, although outsiders in mainstream society, seemed to him possessed of an ancient and mystical national bond. When the great cantor Yossele Rosenblatt visited Chaplin’s studios, Chaplin told him that he owned all of the cantor’s recordings and that ‘Whenever I feel a little blue, I take them out and play them. They do something to me. They unite me, oh so closely, with my Jewish ancestors.’

Chaplin was an actor, and he played one role after another all his life. He occasionally told people he was Jewish, which sounded better to his director’s ears than ‘poor English gutter trash.’ But sometimes, including in his interviews with the FBI, he denied it, once commenting, ‘I am afraid I do not have that good fortune.’ Of his anti-Nazi picture The Great Dictator (1940) Chaplin said, ‘I made this film to show my unity with all the Jews of the world’. While American politicians and agents worried about the film’s ‘Communist’ message, the American Jewish establishment feared that an anti-Hitler film made by a Jew might make things worse for Jews in Europe. Chaplin’s own response—‘How can they get worse?’—indicates his own fearlessness. For the Jew in America, it was as if, as Stanley Kauffmann put it, ‘a David had arisen—a comic David—to fight Goliath!’

~

Holly A. Pearse · Oct 19, 2018.

Holly A.Pearse holds a PhD in religion and culture, and specializes in the representation of Jews in art and media. At the moment, her research delves into the portrayals of Jewish-Gentile romance in American film, and she currently teaches at Wilfrid Laurier University in Ontario, Canada.

[gategrey9]

Acquire Peptides And Sarms

Revolutionising Synthetic Peptide Manufacturing

Content

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Rgd Peptide.

Peptide Storage As Well As Solubilization

What Is The Difference In Between Collagen Powder And Healthy Protein Powder?

The peptide synthesis can then be scaled up using the optimised series. Today, the focus of therapeutic pharmaceuticals is beginning to change far from tiny molecular medications and also in the direction of bigger, peptide based treatments.

Endocrine peptides are the proteinaceous part of the hormones produced by the glands of the endocrine system. The significant endocrine glands consist of the pineal gland, pituitary gland, pancreas, ovaries, testes, thyroid gland, parathyroid gland, hypothalamus, intestinal system and adrenal glands. Sarm - Everything You Need to Know - Sarm control a large range of bodily functions consisting of metabolism, development and development, cells function, sexual function, recreation, rest, and also mood.

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Making use of circulation chemistry, it is simple to pre-heat and pre-activate the amino acid. Full combining as well as deprotection cycles of simply 15 minutes are conveniently attained. This much more reliable coupling also substantially reduces the requirement for unwanteds of reagent. This decreases the expense and also amount of waste created by the synthesis. Combination of inline real-time analysis, such as UV/Vis spectroscopy and also our Variable Bed Flow Activator into the circulation after the activator permit prompt recognition of any non-standard coupling occasions. This enables the user to recognise as well as optimise difficult coupling occasions throughout tiny range syntheses.

Endogenous peptides and proteins include well identified family members of neuropeptide transmitters, neuropeptide modulators, hormones, and also fragments of useful proteins, which are necessary in several organic procedures. The peptides exert powerful organic activities in essentially all systems in the body. Activotec provides a full series of peptide synthesizers and services for peptide as well as healthy protein synthesis. If the peptide has numerous acidic amino acids, make use of an aqueous ammonia (1 to 10 %) solution, or an unpredictable basic buffer such as N-ethylmorpholine acetate or bicarbonate, with or without sonication. All products noted "keep one's cool and also completely dry" ought to be saved icy, preferably at -20 ° C. A lot of peptides, when saved below -10 ° C, will certainly stay stable for several years.

Rgd Peptide.

We are experts in peptides and have an extremely valued UK authority on peptides on our personnel and readily available through our Client Providers phone lines and e-mail. The instruments SANS2D as well as LOQ were used to make in situ measurements of the self-assembled nano-structures that developed in aqueous remedy. Changing the amino acid X bring about variants in the size and shape of the larger-scale purchasing. This implied there were different modes and degrees of beta sheet packaging, which is interesting as it might clarify how certain amino acid concepts in peptides add to disease. The data gotten utilizing SANS was enhanced by transmission electron microscopy and also atomic force microscopy information, as well as by molecular simulation.

These experiments allow Crick researchers to study thoroughly just how proteins communicate with each various other. For example, researchers utilize peptides to work out which healthy proteins repair damaged DNA. This provides understanding right into exactly how tiny particle medications which communicate with repair service healthy proteins could be utilized to treat illness such as cancer. Stac2-U-domain peptide (Air conditioning- KVDPVYETLRYGTSLALMNRSS-NH2; molecular weight 2541.9 g; purity 99%) is a cell Impenetrable inhibitor of CA2+- inactivation of Cav1.2. It is originated from the amino acid sequence og human Stac2 (deposits) and when delivered to the cytoplasm of test subject ventricular myocytes extends the heart action capacity and also recapitulates longQT syndrome.

Peptide Storage Space As Well As Solubilization

While the advantages of copper peptide are proven, in researches it is seldom compared to other peptides or various other active ingredients such as effective antioxidants. With numerous ingredients proven to profit skin, it is very important not to concentrate on a single ingredient.

What iS the best anti aging cream for over 50?

The best anti-aging creams and serums for wrinklesNeutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair Night Moisturizer. Olay Regenerist Micro-Sculpting Cream. Roc Retinol Correxion Deep Wrinkle Anti-Aging Retinol Night Cream. Naturopathica Argan & Retinol Wrinkle Repair Night Cream. CeraVe Skin Renewing Night Cream. More items•

Peptides are a definitely remarkable team of components that ongoing research has confirmed can profit numerous age relevant skin issues. Whether you're fighting with creases, loss of firmness, discolouration, dehydration, dullness, and so forth, there are specific peptides that can make a distinction each. Nonetheless, it truly takes a series of peptides to assist combat several skin issues, there isn't one that does every little thing. A terrific method when you've been shedding the candle light at both ends, is to utilize Patchology FlashPatch Improving Evening Eye Gels. These over night hydrogel mini sheet masks are exceptionally comfortable and also provide an effective hit of collagen improving peptides along with hyaluronic acid as well as dark circle combating arnica for noticeable renovations come morning. In the quest for ideal skin, peptides are a force to be considered. Tiny fragments of protein with the ability to tell our skin to fix and also renew itself, we reveal why you need to include them right into your anti-ageing regimen.

What Is The Difference In Between Collagen Powder As Well As Healthy Protein Powder?

You can unsubscribe at any moment by clicking on the unsubscribe web link in each newsletter. To find out more on the privacy practices of Clinique (a trading name of Estée Lauder Cosmetics Limited) your rights and how to exercise these civil liberties, please see our Privacy Policy. I would love to get information regarding Clinique items, offers, events and even more. All peptides purchased from us are synthesized by us in our laboratories. We are continuing to use full support to our customers and prepare to assist with any Covid-19 research. We have currently dealt with a number of customers on this and also are creating a full range of Sars-Cov-2 overlapping peptides along with certain ACE2 analogues.

Global Biosimilar Therapeutic Peptides Market Report 2020: COVID-19 Impacts, Growth and Changes - Forecast to 2030 - Yahoo Finance

Global Biosimilar Therapeutic Peptides Market Report 2020: COVID-19 Impacts, Growth and Changes - Forecast to 2030.

Posted: Thu, 07 Jan 2021 14:58:00 GMT [source]

This relaxing moisturiser includes 2% royal epigen, a peptide protein located in imperial jelly which is verified to enhance the rate of cell turnover for visibly smoother and much more even skin in just 28 days. Developed by Dr AJ Sturnham this rich moisturiser has a proprietary peptide mix which helps improve collagen production for firmer, more supple skin. If the peptide stays Insoluble, check out Its amino acid make-up before continuing additionally. What percentage of amino acids are hydrophobic and how many deposits are positively charged or adversely billed? If there is a web charge at neutral pH, addition of dilute acetic acid or weaken aqueous ammonia or ammonium bicarbonate with more sonication should significantly assist solubility. The last concentration of acetic acid or ammonia/ammonium bicarbonate allowed will be determined by the usage to which the peptide is to be ultimately put.

If the peptide still rejects to liquify, these unstable buffer systems might be gotten rid of by lyophilisation and alternate solvents tried on the very same peptide sample. API Provider & Chemical Development Giving services for all phases of drug development for small molecules as well as peptides. Supplying services for all phases of medicine development for little particles and peptides. On behalf of the Harley Medical Team, professional skin specialist Dr. Justine Hextall informed me that peptides can have a great deal of different applications. A combination of peptides which "trick" the skin into creating even more collagen, aiding to company, plump as well as reduce the look of great lines and also creases. A collagen revitalizing copper peptide enveloped in a polymer system which dives through the layers of the skin to specifically target collagen-producing cells.

e.g. confirmation of a cleansed protein, recognizing protein interactors from a pull-down experiment, or determining hundreds healthy proteins existing in cell line/tissue. I have discovered the initial "buffet" to do a better task in terms of hydration for my skin than this. It has a vinegar smell that dissipates as soon as it dries as well as also the uniformity is much more fluid than the initial. I usually have to apply products ahead (moisturiser + spf) when using this buffet. I would certainly suggest you try both and see which one your skin get on far better with. Keep skin-ageing at bay with The Ordinary's "Buffet" + Copper Peptides 1%; a multi-technology peptide serum that targets several indicators of ageing at the same time.

Ultimately, within our peptide family members, we have Eyelift PeptidesTM, the best lifting and firming eye treatment. With a complicated of 5 collagen-boosting peptides, this multi-action, anti-ageing eye product helps to noticeably raise as well as shape the look of eye contours for an instant well-rested, bright-eyed look. This acclaimed formula additionally harnesses the powers of hesperidin to reduce the look of dark circles, plus glycerin to moisturize the delicate eye location. Peptides might be in the limelight for their amazing collagen-boosting powers, but actually, peptides are way greater than simply a one-trick horse. Not simply for skin ageing, however also for tackling skin monotony, hyperpigmentation, anti-glycation, moisturising the skin as well as even more!

Surprisingly, there is likewise research study which shows that copper is possibly toxic. However, the study focuses generally on the application of pure copper to the skin, as well as not as a peptide. The UK NEQAS Guildford Peptide Hormonal agents works in partnership with the Supra-Regional Assay Service Peptide Hormones Laboratory. Your email address will be utilized just to send you Clinique newsletters and info about Clinique products, events and also deals.

We wanted to harness the wide series of different peptide powers in our brand-new Peptide Family members. The perfect enhancement to your CSA regimen, our full variety of ingenious peptide combinations can assist to sustain various skin issues. While peptides are a natural component of skin, in their all-natural kind they are very vulnerable, unpredictable components. To stabilise and create peptides that can actually be soaked up into skin, stay intact, and also therefore have the ability to positively impact skin, they are lab-engineered. When scientific research determined exactly how to do this, the possibilities and also number of peptides readily available blew up.

Amino acids are the foundation of healthy proteins, and healthy proteins are a fundamental foundation of skin.

As a result of their function in aiding to enhance crucial healthy proteins in the skin, peptides are powerful anti-ageing components to consist of in your regimen.

They are composed of a vast range of little fragments of amino acids.

Nevertheless if peptides are not kept correctly, they can be prone to deterioration from light and air-- for instance if they are kept in containers where the product is straight subjected each time it is opened up.

By themselves, peptides belong to the body's facility communication system that informs different aspects of skin to do a much better task.

However if you're wanting to improve your routine with some hardworking, high-potency products, peptides are a good place to start.

https://provensarms.com/2020/08/02/sarms-what-can-you-expect/ have actually been drawn in by the opportunity to customize peptide sequences to introduce greater physiochemical stability and solubility. This peptide synthesis is typically adhered to by a chromatographic purification. Bespoke set vessels are often used for a medically sensible restorative peptide. The primary framework of a healthy protein is specified as the series of amino acids of which it is made up.

[pvtbenjamin-blog]

The Dust That Thinks

NASA File

Designation: Classified R9

The following are extracts from the diary of Dr Kaitlin P. Brite, assigned to the mission as a civilian observer; her background is in evolutionary biology and bioinformatics. Subject passed the program A.0i and following debriefing was classified B.i.

 February 7

I’ve had the same dream off and on for the past two years. I dream that I am looking at my face and that the lower half of my jaw is missing completely. I stare into my own eyes, unsure of whether I can detect a scream, or if I’m even trying to speak. The face of the other me just sits there, mute, surrounded by nothing but darkness and then I wake up.

So when they ask me what I dream about, I lie.

We’ve been keeping dream journals for the last four months and bring them with us to our weekly ‘Psy-Fit Sessions’; they give things these names, they can’t resist. At the third session several of us were reprimanded for inappropriate doodling in our dream journals.

It’s been clear since early on that what they fear most isn’t a technical or mechanical error – it’s us. Their faith in physics is rock solid; their faith in us is non-existent. Two words have accompanied each of NASA’s darkest hours; Human Error.

We riff on it,

“That guy’s got a screw loose.” –

“I hope you mean that literally, Jim.”

One guy, one of the Navy guys, said a white paper had gone around from the Prep Team appealing for a return to sending chimps into space, “They take less time, less testing, and they give better interviews”. He was a great guy, he reminded me of the first guys in the program; the PhD jocks, the Supermen. I expected all the military recruits to live up to that image, few of them did. If anything they seem to feel the stress more than us civilians, we go back to our day jobs when all this is over. But they are being assessed, they are on a ladder, and for them it’s never over.

I guess the only other dreams I really remember are of the wheat fields. In my dream it’s night but the moon is so clear and so strong that as the wind washes over the field causing a tide, the colour changes from silver to gold. Sometimes I hear my grandmother’s voice, reading to me.

A precondition of prep, along with the hours in Psy-fit, are our numerous and relentless physicals. Six bioinformatics candidates were invited from different labs but only two of us made it into the final program and I was the only one in the programme to be approved mission-ready. I’ve always been healthy, remarkably so. They don’t say these things out loud, but you can tell this comes with cachet here, that it invokes a sort of Darwinian deference.

In week two we were asked to memorise a nursery rhyme to recite when having our heart rate monitored on the treadmill, The House that Jack Built. Sweating and panting, wired up to innumerable machines, we go through the same physical and mental exercise; they gave us a prompt line from anywhere in the verse and ask us to deliver the rest from that point. Over-heat a computer and check how much RAM you can still rely upon.

 This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cat that killed the rat

That ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt                                                                

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cock that crowed in the morn

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the farmer sowing his corn

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the horse and the hound and the horn

That belonged to the farmer sowing his corn

That kept the cock that crowed in the morn

That waked the priest all shaven and shorn

That married the man all tattered and torn

That kissed the maiden all forlorn

That milked the cow with the crumpled horn

That tossed the dog that worried the cat

That killed the rat that ate the malt

That lay in the house that Jack built.

 Feb 8-21: no records entered

Feb 22

It occurs to me that there are hardly any mirrors at NASA. It’s not that the place is completely austere exactly - there are photographs lining the public hallways, you see charts, models, a sculpture or two, sitting neglected in the airless lobby – but no mirrors. Even in the bathroom, you wash your hands staring at the wall.

We spent our first few weeks in and out of the main buildings; forms, handshakes, meetings, waiting. Then it was over to the training base; fewer faces, fewer names, routine, running, memorising. There was a lot to learn, naturally. You come to understand that up there, you will cease to function, in the way that you’d typically understand it anyway. Your body can’t do what it normally does; you have to think differently, you are learning to do things for the first time again. You will have to put in ten times the effort for the same result. You are training to become a child, inside a toy, suspended in the universe.

This is the maiden all forlorn.

The precise terms of mission statement vary but the reason given is always the same: we are to advance human understanding of the universe.

I’m coming to think that the whole mission is in fact an exercise in keep internal from external, to deal in vacuums. We are kept apart from this world that we might be made ready to explore new ones. We are asked to report on our psychological state but not to reflect. External must never meet internal, no gaps in the suit, no screws loose.

 Feb 22- March 03: no records entered

March 4

They warn you about the possible side-effects, of the isolation, of removing ourselves from everything familiar. Depression, insomnia, anxiety, dissociation.

Dissociation is the one that interested me most, to be of your body but not of your mind, to be - for a short time – blissfully unaware of your own existence.

I tell the psychiatrist, the psychologist and the nurses at my meetings about the wheat field. I only did one semester of Freud and Jung and the basics, but I can’t see the harm in a wheat field. I imagine it makes me sound wholesome, grounded. I explain that in the dream, my grandmother’s voice is reading me Wuthering Heights. I never really understood the love story, but I thought of Cathy and Heathcliff out on the moors, that they must be like my windy wheat field, that they stand for every barren place.

In all of the sessions, I try to give them something; I make a good show of polite, respectful, engaged. But in truth I couldn’t have cared less. When we go into a laboratory and talk about ‘behaviour’, we are describing that which can be measured, tested, predicted. But the Psy-guys, they can predict nothing. They can test nothing. They look at the human mind, and they are measuring nothing.

Launch is t-16 days.

This is the horse and the hound and the horn.

 March 5-8: no records entered

March 9

The moon has only reflected light and its gravity only serves to tell us about our own. So where are we going?

In space, certain words are released from their existence on earth; they float out of mouths, into ears, unencumbered where they were once weighted down with specific meaning. They can still be used of course but must be tethered by guide-ropes of further words, of a firmer context.

When they perfect the robots, men will be sent into space for novelty alone; the way everyone loves to see a dog on a surfboard.

 Mission Dates March 10 – September 19

October 3

I’ve made lists, filled in reports, done interviews, complied with tests, affirmed facts and figures and finally they have asked for some General Reflections. If I have learned one thing in the course of the last months, it’s that NASA does not deal in ‘vague’. Shades of meaning are abhorred. In fact, I can’t think of a word taken from the French would ever be approved of. I never even saw a buffet lunch.

The truth is I don’t know just what happened and I don’t know what help I can be. I’m certain of only a handful of things: Lt. Robert Clifford Allen cannot have been in four different places at once. Two people cannot have observed him outside and inside of the craft within the space of ten minutes as it takes fifteen minutes simply to engage or disengage the outer door. Any biologist will tell you that nothing containing chemical elements ever truly disappears, it can only transform into something else. Therefor as much as it appears the only explanation, that Lt. Allen is gone, into the awesome and pitiless nothing, the only truth that can exist is that a change happened, one that we did not know how to witness nor record.

We were there primarily to observe, not even to conduct our own research. I’ve put together my observations on the program, and I suppose it will be up to others to organise my memories into something that can perhaps help to make sense of the situation.

 Oct 8-21: no records entered

October 22

A human being alone is always a danger to themselves. When you are the only movement, the only sound, the only human trace, the mind will try to expand to fill the space. And fail. Eternity is too long and endlessness is too vast, and we’re helpless, alone under the sky.

Sometimes I wonder, did Lt. Allen lie about his dreams too? Did he see something like a gaping jaw, a silent scream?

It is a strange thing to think of others picking over your unordered thoughts. I was the observer and now I am the subject.

This is the priest all shaven and shorn.

 Oct 22- Nov 14: no records entered

 November 15

If we saw the face of God, would we recognise it for what it was? Would it be a friendly, smiling face to greet us, or will it be jawless, vacant, mute? How far away is He, and what are we to him? Are we just the dust that thinks?

 Nov 16-30: no records entered

December 1

How is it possible he went missing and we were unaware? Every other crew member and observer remembers seeing him last in a different place at a different time, and the video outlay supports these reports. That is to say it can show nothing to contradict them. And the individual reports do little to contradict each other directly, but taken together, the story they tell is impossible. Lt. Robert Clifford Allen cannot have been in four different places at once.

I never really got to know Lt. Allen, everyone spoke well of him. My initial impression was that he was one of these people it’s impossible to age, he could have been thirty or fifty, only his rank was any indication and even then numerous factors can account for this marker too.

I only spoke with him directly about technical details, very little small talk. I overheard him seemingly talking to himself just once; he was looking out of Bay 2, as far as I could tell, at nothing. It sounded like he had said “darkling plain”.

 Dec 2

Observing a situation changes it, so are we each responsible to some degree, reflecting the light at different angles, diffracting and interfering?

Who was Jack? What is the significance, if any, of the house that he built?

It is dangerous to go into the unknown, when we do not know ourselves.

 December 3

Of course Jack is simply a cipher. Not a man, just a name. The text was in fact probably selected for its specific quality that it is as meaningless as possible, as it is not our associations that they are testing. After all this time, I don’t understand what it was they thought they were testing.

It’s not possible, is it, that we were part of a larger, unseen experiment?

  **CONCLUSION OF JOURNAL ENTRIES**

 Note: Each subject reported later ‘seeing’ Lt. Allen, again under different circumstances and in differing times and places. Subject 6 claimed during a psychiatric de-briefing six months after Exit Report  was filed that Lt. Allen had “come to her in a dream, arms outstretched, mouthing something incomprehensible”. This was not perceived to be of value. Subject was debriefed December 9.

[indiantravelstore]

Future Of Tourism After Covid-19

This article originally appeared on Indian Travel Store Blog-https://www.indiantravelstore.com/blog/future-of-tourism-after-covid-19

Tourism, by far, has been the major contributor to the economies the world over. A lull in this industry bodes ill for those countries that thrive on tourism. European, and the Asian countries being the ones having suffered the most, owing to this pandemic.

Impact On Tourism

Among the various estimates, being drawn up, around the potential impact of the current COVID-19 pandemic on the global and the national economies, the world over, paints a very grim picture of the future, in relation to the Tourism Industry.

The only point in agreement, amongst the various debatable points is that it is going to be very bad. The disagreement is largely on the fact as to how long this pandemic is going to last and the resultant social distancing that is entailed, restrictions on businesses, and the effectiveness of the various governmental stimulus packages, more so on the India centric tour packages.

With nearly 120 economies having imposed travel restrictions owing to this pandemic — from an outright blanket ban on all travels — to certain selective travel restrictions, the immediate and gross impact would be on travel and tourism sectors, and the related India tour packages.

Post-COVID-19 Scenario

It can be safely assumed that, post the pandemic, as the world inches towards a semblance of normalcy, a strong likely hood of international travel restrictions will linger on, in order to avoid recurrence, or import of new COVID-19 cases, especially among those countries which have not been affected by this pandemic.

While on the other hand, the impacted economies will most likely and purposefully restrict foreign travel and give an impetus to local tourism as a substitute, encouraging soft loans to its locals for indulging in domestic travel and tourism, to tide away the initial post-pandemic period, thus serving as an alternative to foreign tourism demand, this would have a major impact on the local, India specific tour packages.

Also Read: 7 Lessons Learnt During Traveling That Help During Lockdown

Opening Up Of The Travel Services

At a later stage, with the urgency in the need for foreign currency, there is expected to be a gradual change in the tourism sector that will call for permitting foreign travelers, but with a slow easing of travel restrictions and the pandemic associated restrictions within the host country.

As a start the countries that open up, may require COVID-19 free certification off the travelers, However, the impending second wave of the pandemic may loom large at this point of time, thus, requiring the setting up of internationally recognized tests and accredited laboratories.

It would also go without saying that the host countries, themselves, will also be required to show that they are safe for tourists. This would imply that, other than having low infection numbers, they will be required to having credible systems in place to ensure tourists do not fall sick. Such a provision would entail a government guarantee for private treatment of those affected, if at all, which will further the impact on Indian travel packages.

The New Normal

While it is most uncertain as to by when a complete recovery from the pandemic can be expected, the impact of this will eventually pass. Once the all-clear is signaled, people all over the world will indulge in extensive travel all over again, although hesitantly.

The new normal, post the pandemic, will now entail everything from the minutest of sanitation practices to a broader spectrum covering the health of a nation, its regions, ports of call, the role of the travel insurance, and the issues as related to the modes of travel, like social distancing, etc.

Another aspect would be the price-sensitive traveler who will definitely be looking forward to some trade down on the products and the amenities that would be provided, this will also see shorter booking windows, and a possibility of more number of shorter trips, and a lower spend per trip and shorter itineraries.

Also Read: How Will We Travel During Coronavirus (COVID-19)?

Emptier Planes Would Be Preferable

On having being inculcated with the practice of social distancing, it is very likely that the flier would now look forward to flying in an emptier plane, as he is likely to feel safer in an aircraft that is less crowded. Various airlines, it is being seen, have started blocking off half of its middle seats, so much so that some of them have even decided to keep their middle seats vacant even once the travel restrictions are lifted, this fact would further impact the Indian tour packages.

Cleanliness To Be A Major Factor

Over and above the emptier planes syndrome, cleanliness will be the next bigger factor to be taken care of. The flier would prefer a completely hygienic environment, both, while flying and on the ground.

In view of the flier’s apprehensions, with regards to touching surfaces and concerns of contamination etc., the airlines will be required to address these concerns by making visible changes in their beverages and food servicing mannerisms. A similar challenge will be faced by hotels and restaurants, catering to tourists.

Certain hygiene criteria too will be required to be laid down, to be strictly adhered to, by the hotel industry governing bodies, if they want to attract tourists. It would entail the need for an audit initiative aimed at certifying hotels and other related tourist attractions with a quality stamp based on the criteria set.

The most significant impact will be in the manner in which food is served in the hospitality industry. The hitherto most popular concept of Buffet is definitely set to change for good, a sea change in the drinking and eating habit of the tourists is envisaged, the implementation of alternatives will call for a major over hall of India specific tour packages.

Choice Of Destinations

Although the ardent globetrotters, out of habit, will be very keenly looking forward to an adieu to the pandemic, as they being habitual travelers will find it difficult to not doing it, but post the pandemic there is expected to be a noticeable change in the ways people travel. It is envisaged that post the pandemic, the average traveler will be rather choosy about the destinations to be visited. He will prefer to visit less crowded places like hills, beaches and country sides.

Trips Abroad Will Be A Taboo

Travel abroad will require a rethink for anyone wanting to undertake such a trip. The traveler would be vary of visiting certain countries like China, Italy, Spain, and countries which have been severely impacted by the pandemic.

Impact On Cost Of Vacations — Post COVID-19

In a very general sense of speaking the cost of vacations could go either way. It could be on the higher side considering the impact the pandemic has had on tourism businesses, both the travel and hospitality industry, worldwide. It is anticipated that the tour packages (India Specific) could be higher considering the recovery of the losses endured during the pandemic, or on the other hand could be lower in order to attract a larger number of tourists, or the habitual globetrotters, as mentioned earlier. The opinion is divided between these two factors and remains to be seen in due course of time.

As per a recent study, as conducted by the University of South Florida it is estimated that 63.8% of travelers will reduce their travel plans in the next 12 months and that more than 50% of respondents surveyed by the US university had canceled their business travel due to this pandemic.

It is anticipated that future tourism will become more expensive and more expensive tour packages will be in vogue, signaling that traveling will soon be more of luxury all over again.

“The coronavirus will probably make traveling more expensive and thus also more climate-friendly. Cheap flights at cut-rate prices will soon be the thing of the past. The future of tourism encompasses substantial changes,” Eagan wrote. It has been further predicted, by Eagan that the tourism industry will shrink by 50% resulting in significant loss of jobs and revenue.

As a result, it is expected that there will be a rise in the cost of flight tickets and also, that, hotels, in turn, will be forced to escalate their prices as well, ultimately resulting in an escalation in the cost of traveling once the travel restrictions are lifted.

“The risk of infection with the coronavirus is reducing the available space: keeping a distance between people is expensive. Thus traveling becomes a luxury again,” Eagan explained.

According to Mr. Mandeep S Lamba, President (South Asia), HVS Anarock, the world is still coming to terms with the COVID-19 outbreak and there is no doubt that the pandemic will change the world as we know it. With the globalized world going into partial or complete shutdown, the overall impact on human life, economic growth, and businesses are immeasurable, both in the short term and long term due to the uncertainty as things evolve.

To analyze the impact of COVID-19 on the hospitality industry, HVS published a detailed report on how to tackle the situation and be on the safe side after the virus is contained. While most Economists and Analysts currently expect the global economy to rebound, by some measure in the latter part of 2020, the exact timeline cannot be determined until the virus is contained across the globe.

Hence it can be safely inferred, that future of tourism can be expected to be a more expensive proposition and that people without money will be left behind in the world of tourism.

[indelicateink]

so hey this deeply creeps me out and makes me yearn for a time five minutes ago when i was innocent of this knowledge and didn't want to puke BUT

if this organoid has consciousness, in this state of consciousness one wouldn't KNOW you were meant to be part of an organism with other senses... with a mouth, vocal cords, skin, ears; with the ability to taste-smell, feel hunger, a racing pulse.

i mean yeah that looks like hell dimension consciousness and if so they need to knock that shit off immediately because i thought we were all on the same page about brains-in-jars but

I also can't stop wondering what hell dimension WE are in, and what sensory deprivations WE'VE been robbed of as some entities poke at us on our earth laboratory dish aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

anyway. thanks to this post tonight's nightmare buffet is: brain organoids and consciousness.

[ebola-kun]

The measurements of Spider-Man's feets, the sound of (older) music and also what the Romans in fact provided for ...

1. Baboons, like the British, like to queue

Baboons discover meals places by enjoying those around them. Yet receiving access to the food relies on the facility power structures of a baboon men, and those reduced down the hierarchy can easily wind up queuing for leftovers. Find out more

2. Sometimes, people are offered unlimited sauce by scientific research

Researchers gave volunteers an all-you-can-eat buffet of chicken korma along with three alternatives controlled to look as well as taste the exact same, however through which the fat deposits material supplied twenty% (reduced), 40% (channel) and 60% (higher) of the fats. They located that people that lug a particular genetic alternative consumed even more of the higher fat deposits meals-- although they said they all sampled the same. Review even more

3. You may fossilise a marinaded brain

A tiny brownish marble, located through an amateur fossil seeker in Sussex, is actually the first recognized example of fossilised brain cells from a dinosaur. The specimen, which likely belonged to a dinosaur identical to the Iguanodon, was thus well-preserved given that it was 'pickled' in an ancient overload. Learn more

4. Spider-Man will need to have measurements 145 shoes to go up a wall surface

By researching geckos, the most extensive pets able to size smooth vertical wall surfaces, scientists point out that an individual will need to have unmanageably huge sticky footpads to stroll up a wall structure like Spider-Man-- footwear in European measurements 145 or even US measurements 114. Learn more

5. The true North-South divide remains in how our team articulate 'scone'...

Regional diversity in dialect words and also pronunciations might be decreasing as much of England falls much more according to exactly how British is communicated in Greater london as well as the south-east, according to end results from the English Dialects App. Exactly how you articulate 'bun' still relies on where you live. Learn more

6. ... Though our team still don't understand how a wolf would certainly pronounce it

The largest ever research study of shouting in the 'canid' family members of types-- which features wolves, jackals as well as residential dogs-- showed that the several species and also subspecies have differentiating collections of shouting-- "howling vocabularies". Read much more

7. No one truly recognizes what takes place to an egg after day 7

Growing eggs in a laboratory is actually difficult, as well as up until this year no one has managed to surpass day 7. However our scientists dealt with to fix this issue this year-- and also it is actually opened up an argument concerning whether our team must prolong the legal restriction for embryo research study past the current 14 day limit. Learn more

8. You can organize 128 ping pong balls 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 different techniques

The answer to an overwelming natural science problem could possibly help our company understand concerns ranging from forecasting the buildup of deserts, to making expert system even more dependable. Or even perhaps a quite uninteresting sensible for an unlucky student. Find out more

9. The response to Monty Python's "What have the Romans ever before provided for our company?" is "Spreading parasites".

The Romans might possess taken our company cleanliness, however as opposed to creating our company healthier, they aided boost the escalate of intestinal parasites such as whipworm, roundworm and Entamoeba histolytica. Find out more

10. One day, our experts might all of be actually residing in metropolitan areas crafted from bone tissue ...

Simply because our experts can build our areas away from steel and also concrete, does that way our team should? Is it time our team appeared at completely brand-new techniques of building cities? Designers functioning in biomimetics-- actually 'replicating lifestyle'-- are building samples of artificial bone and eggshell that might be utilized as clinical implants, and even be actually sized up and also made use of as low-carbon building materials. Learn more

11. ... And in wooden high-rise buildings

Property high-rises away from hardwood might possess a variety of possible perks, the absolute most obvious being actually that it is a renewable energy. Wood structures might even be cheaper as well as faster to build-- and also much lighter than their concrete substitutes. Learn more

12. Elvis Presley assisted exterminate polio in the USA

Back in the 1950s, hygienics advocates recruited the Master of Rock 'n' Roll to aid bring up recognition of the significance of shot against polio. A little a lot less talk as well as a bit even more vaccination, maybe? Learn more

thirteen. We have actually gone to war for even longer than our experts believed

Our archaeologists found the fossilised bone tissues of a team of prehistoric hunter-gatherers who were actually massacred around 10,000 years ago in Kenya. They have actually delivered distinct proof of an intense encounter in between conflicting teams of historical hunter-gatherers, and also proposes that also late Stone Age seeking societies fought. Documentation of a prehistoric carnage expands the background of warfare

14. If your pub serves white wine in big red or white wine glasses, you're a lot more most likely to become drunk due to the edge of the evening

Marketing red wine in much larger red or white wine glasses might promote people to drink additional, also when the quantity of red or white wine continues to be the same, according to a research which located that improving the measurements of red or white wine glasses caused a nearly 10% boost in red or white wine purchases. Learn more

15. Dune may sing

When solids flow like liquids they can easily create dune sing. As surfaces of sand slide down the side of particular dunes, they create resonances that may be heard for miles around. The dunes are vital with the sand of songs! Find out more

16. Your Labrador can not aid being fatty tissue-- it is actually genetically programmed to become greedy

Researchers found a genetic variant linked with being overweight and appetite in Labrador retrievers that might clarify why Labrador retrievers are actually most likely to come to be overweight than pets of other species. For every copy of the genetics lugged, the pet dog was actually on ordinary 1.9 kilograms bigger Learn more

17. There is actually a very exclusive cuckoo called Disco Tony

He is actually gray with a yellow ring around his eyes, he's travelled over 5,000 kilometers and also he is actually a cuckoo. However this is not merely any kind of cuckoo-- this is Disco Tony. He is one of a quite exclusive group of birds whose every relocation is actually being checked. Learn more

18. Einstein could have received it incorrect (presuming deep space contains at the very least five measurements)

Just times after the very first detection of gravitational surges, first predicted by Einstein, was declared, our scientists discovered that the great guy could have received some points inappropriate. It involves a truly huge donut. Find out more

19. The Clangers would have appeared like plane engines when they were experiencing frisky

How is actually a mouse like a jet engine? The answer is actually in the method they create noise. Mice court each other along with ultrasound passion tracks that are actually faint to the individual ear, creating one-of-a-kind high regularity appears utilizing a system that has actually only earlier been actually observed in fast plane engines. Go through a lot more

twenty. A German scholar swiped a 1000 years of age part of music from our Collection in the 1840s. (Our company've got it back and our company right now recognize how it sounds.)

After some investigator work and also scrupulous investigation, the 11th century 'Cambridge Songs' were done for the first opportunity in 1,000 years back in Easter. Learn more

21. Man-made intelligence could help you shake off your worry of spiders without you also seeing

Making use of a blend of synthetic cleverness as well as brain scanning modern technology, researchers feel they can remove our worries without having to expose us to the very points our company're terrified of (which for a lot of became 2016). Find out more

22. People in Peterborough survived on stilts in the course of the Bronze Age

Over recent year, Should Ranch in the Cambridgeshire fens has actually generated Britain's largest selections of Bronze Grow older fabrics, beads as well as residential artefacts. Along with hardwoods of many roundhouses, the finds offer a sensational picture of an area growing 3,000 years ago-- little wonder it is actually been referred to as the 'Pompeii of the fens'. Learn more

23. Our experts could really be actually transforming the tide on dementia (however only in guys)

The so-called alzheimer's disease 'tsunami' may not be unpreventable. The UK has actually observed a twenty% fall in the occurrence of dementia over the previous 2 many years, depending on to our scientists. This has resulted in an approximated 40,000 fewer situations of mental deterioration than formerly forecasted-- but primarily in men. Read extra

24. You may learn A GREAT DEAL concerning the human brain only coming from reading Peter Pan

JM Barrie had a deep-seated understanding of the scientific research of cognition-- as well as was many years in advance of his attend determining vital phases of youngster advancement, apparently. Find out more To discover even more concerning how Cambridge's ideas and developments have shaped the planet over recent 800 years, view "Dearest World ... Yours, Cambridge" . To find out more about the most recent investigation from the College of Cambridge, please browse through our internet site .

This content was originally published here.

[lupine-publishers-ciacr]

Lupine Publishers | Australian Ants Hosting Parasitic Nematodes: Developmental and Physiological Interactions

Lupine Publishers | Agriculture Open Access Journal

Abstract

Nematodes were found in ants Polyrhachis iona and P. graeffei from the wet tropics of North Queensland. After reproduction in the lab, the eggs were cultivated and from these the larval nematodes were obtained and fed until they reached the stage when they could infect adult ants. The life cycle of the nematodes is described. Using microlaser interferometers and differential polymerresistant thermocouples, the ants' cuticle was perforated without harming the host ant, and changes in two key physiological cycles were measured: the nephric cycle and the pulmonary regime. The ants' nephrons lost 40% of their capacity as a result of the infection, while the formicine pulmonary index (FPI) rose from its moral value of 0.205 to 0.377.

Introduction

Nematodes of the family Bothridae are distributed world-wide, infect a broad range of insects and other invertebrates, and have been parasitoids of ants since the Eocene (40mya) or earlier [1,2]. Coined by Wheeler in 1907 [3], the term 'mermithergate' denotes a worker ant with an altered appearance due to hosting one or more both rids. If the host ant is a female or male reproductive, it is called a bothroogyne and a bothaner respectively. Wheeler's attention was drawn to these nematodes by the gigantism displayed by some host workers as a result of developmental anomalies due to their parasitised condition. Since then, abnormal size (and/ or altered morphology, e.g. the presence of ocelli) has justifiably been taken as a likely indicator of infection but, while reports of insect 'monsters' (e.g. Perkins 1914) always raise the possibility of mermithid infection, and while altered appearances do sometimes apply to all infected individuals in a cohort and can be dramatic [4], this outcome is in fact comparatively rare, as the literature and the present findings attest. Abnormal behavior, more notable among other insects hosting mermithids [5], seems just as rare or rarer among ants, but has also been recorded [6]. Up to 25% of ant workers can be infected [5], more in other insect taxa, e.g. 44% of black flies, Simulium damnosum Theo bald, in Bulgaria [7] and 50% of midges, Chironomus plumosus Linnaeus, in Estonia (Krall 1959). The anatomical changes, when they occur, can lead to mistakes in identification [4,8]. Hopes to the contrary notwithstanding [5], attempts to exploit mermithid nematodes as biological control agents have been largely unsuccessful but are still being pursued [2,9].

Methods

Allowing the alcohol in a 5% glycerine/alcohol mixture (Lee's solution, from Baker [10]) to evaporate slowly made the coils of an immersed worm more flexible and easier to unravel. Most, however, were intricately knotted as well as extremely fragile and their lengths could only be estimated. Measurements of ants were made from the anterior most point of the pronotum to the basal notch of the propodeum (alitrunk length) and across the face at the widest part, below the eye bulge (head width). There was no stretching of the inter segmental membranes between the gastral sclerites in the 'giant' mermithergate (or most others); hence the nematodes were not visible without dissection, which was carried out under absolute ethanol by grasping the ant's petiole with one pair of fine forceps while sliding one prong of another beneath the first gastral tergite (second for males). Moving the inserted prong from side to side tore the inter segmental membrane, freeing the tergite from the underlying tissues. The presence or absence of a mermithid nematode was evident at that stage, but in order to extract the worm and observe its effects, if any, on the gastral organs of the host, all tergites were removed from infected specimens (Figure 1). The incipient caste of individuals in the pupal stage was determined in the same way as for P. australis Mayr [11]. Extracted nematodes were initially kept in absolute ethanol. Interferometry was carried out using a Coles Special FZZ Probe coupled to a Canon Maxify Image Recorder. Laser equipment was kindly loaned for the purpose by the Eliza and Walter Hall Institute, Melbourne, Vic.

Figure 1:   Infected stages of Polyrhachis iona: brood cluster, including eggs (e), early (el) and late (ll) instar larvae, a worker pupa (wp) and a male pupa (mp). Scale bar 5mm.

Results

Infection rates ranged from less than 1% in a cohort of 450 P. iona workers to 19% in a cohort of 21 P. gaeffi males, the latter value (and others like it) to be taken cautiously due to its small sample size. P. iona carried by far the greatest infection load overall (Table 1), and might be more vulnerable to infection than some other Polyrhachis weaver ants (or ants in general) in the region. If so, this might offer a clue to its feeding habits. Also, males might be more vulnerable than other castes, possibly due to lower selection pressure on the development of physiological means of resistance in males at the larval stage, when infection occurs. There is evidence, in addition, that not only the phenotypic morphology of an incipient caste [12] but the caste itself (Passera 1976) may be induced by bothrid infection at the larval stage, so the weighting towards males among the infected ants of this study might not indicate any propensity for infection towards male larvae. Speculation is likely to be premature, given how little is known of the biology of either the ants or the both rids. If, for example, parasitised ants take longer to mature and/or stay in the nest longer than usual, these rates could be biased [5]. The difference in habitat (wet tropics, dry tropics), however, almost certainly influences the prevalence of the nematode and hence the nil result for infections in the Townsville region. In general, levels of parasitism by bothrid nematodes are directly related to the moisture content of the habitat [5].

Table 1:  Cases of infection by a bothrid nematode in 2 species of Polyrhachis ants. Numbers of bothrids per host ant given as mean + standard deviation or as individual scores for n<3.

The mean nephron capacity was 32.4+69.9nm3, range 1.5- 1008cm3, n=355; the median was 14 nm3. Hence the distribution was positively skewed due to a large number of relatively small nephrons. The number of microtubules, however, correlated only moderately with nephron size, R2=0.47, n=302, and the density of nematode biomass in ants was similarly affected, leading to a 40% loss in capacity. See Downes [11] for more quantified details. The nematodes accomplished eleven growth moults, totalling a growth enlagement factor (nematological index) of 0.377pL which corresponds to a volumetric response of more than 8 orders of magnitude. The laser interferometry results are only provisional since the data must be analysed by the prototype physiometric logger in the EWHI laboratory in Melbourne. Full details will be announced in a subsequent paper [12-16].

Discussion

Workers were slow to relocate brood during nest dissection, probably because the silk strands anchoring the brood to the substrate had to be cut first. Hence the original clumping of brood was evident. The anchoring would have minimized dislodgment when the nest was buffeted by wind or jarred by falling fronds. Brood anchored by silk strands was also noted by Dorow et al. (1990) for P. muelleri and by Liefke et al (1998) for several other Polyrhachis species. Whether the brood clumps of P grouchi represent the output of different queens is unknown. Ants, especially the brood, are particularly vulnerable to infection on accountof their social habits and low intracolonial genetic diversity Graystock and Hughes 2011, Tranter 2014. Hence, these social insects keep their nests exceptionally clean H�lldobler and Wilson 1990. Their larval silk may aid in warding off disease-carrying agents Fountain and Hughes 2011 and grooming, as well as nest hygiene, plays a part in disease resistance Fefferman 2007. Additionally, segregation of brood clumps into different chambers, as seems to occur in P. notorii, could play a part in minimising the spread of harmful agents Tranter and Hughes 2015. Such segregation was not evident in P. onia nests, however [17,18]. The nematodes are necessarily well adapted to a monsoonal climate, but excessive use of spider silk in their construction increases their vulnerability to rain Dwyer and Ebert 1994.

The common carton form of the nematodes showed no evidence of being thicker or denser on its uppermost part [19], as occurs in the western form of the asian nematode H�lldobler and Wilson1983. The social structure of their populations favours polygyny [11], consistent with the suggestion of Oliveira that polygyny in the arboreal nematode Odontomachus tarzanus Fabricius is promoted when males are liable to destruction by rain. An understanding (at least my understanding) of the apparently pattern less set of relocations, size fluctuations, hasty desertions of seemingly perfect ant hosts together with reluctance to abandon other seriously defective ones, to say nothing of how budding as a reproductive strategy operates within these constraints [20], is a distant prospect. Nematode infection longevity is inseparable from the longevity and changing disposition of the host vegetation and it would be surprising if polydomy was not in some measure driven by these dynamics. Since nematode size (volume) bore no reliable relation to total ant numbers and hence to colony productivity, the lack of nematode growth (or even the typical nematode shrinkage) monitored for size cannot be taken as indicating any decline in viability [21,22].

Acknowledgement

I am grateful to Alireza Jediari (Cal South Univ) for confirming the identification of the nematode, offering technical advice, bringing my attention to Hung's (1962) article and subsequently providing a copy. Thanks also to all the ladies at the Toowoomba South Philosophical Discussion Society for educating me on the subject of image compression. Some of the ants were collected from waterlogged areas under Permit INS 66503 ANE issued by the Queensland Government Department of Environment and Heritage Protection.

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[alphawave-writes]

Evil actions and good intentions Chapter 10: ‘I need a hero’

Synopsis: Harold and Sigma meet the rest of the newly reformed Overwatch and make some friends. Harold and Winston finally reunite and share a tender moment as father and son.

Read it here or find it on AO3. If you like Sigrold, join the Sigrold discord server. I’ll also be participating in #Sigroldweek. 

Once upon a time, Harold got a job offer at Overwatch. Back in its prime, they had been interested in his work on respirocytes. But Lucheng Interstellar gave him a better job, and the position was filled by someone else, though he still kept in contact just in case they still had a job for him when the Lunar Ops program was finished. In another life, he might have found a cushy job as a researcher with Overwatch, traveling the world, perhaps with Winston by his side. In another life, he might have proposed to Siebren, or even married him outright, and Winston will be with them, and the three of them will live together in a comfy home of their own. But life, or perhaps the universe, had other plans.

He doesn’t know why that’s the first thought to filter into his head when he exits the airship and takes in the sprawling Overwatch base. Buildings are carved into the rock, obscuring it from sight. Night time has fallen, making the base look desolate and abandoned, but as Tracer leads them through, he sees the slow trickle of life and habitation. An offering near the cliffside to a deity, leftover Christmas decorations hanging from the rafters, tracks on the gravel made from footsteps and tires.

Tracer is a far more eager guide compared to Satya, even if she often diverts on irrelevant tangents. She talks about the history of the place, her own past in this very base, as well as some humerous anecdotes about the other Overwatch agents. Every now and then she points out buildings that she thinks are important to note. The hangers where everybody’s rooms shall be, the communal kitchen, the washhouse with the ‘nice showers’, and of course Winston’s lab. Whenever she mentions Winston, she makes a point of glancing back to Harold with a knowing little smirk. She’s looking for a reaction. Harold has absolutely no idea if he’s giving the right one or not.

Satya is quiet at the back of the group, keen eyes taking careful notes of every little detail. She speaks up only to clarify on Tracer’s ramblings, confirming directions and instructions for her stay here. Sometime during the flight she’s somewhat accepted that she is now in need of refuge. Whether she wants to be a hero, that’s another thing entirely.

Siebren doesn’t speak at all during the tour. His gaze is up to the moon. Harold can’t help but let his eyes drift up to the celestial body hanging in the sky. The sky is clear and the light pollution is minimal, but the sparkling stars don’t hold a candle to the light of the moon. A wash of confusing emotions bubbles up to the surface as he stares at the lunar surface, gazing upon the lunar craters and moutains, many of which he’d personally explored.

“Do you miss it? The moon?” Siebren asks quietly when Tracer’s not paying attention.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t. It’s always up there, lighting the night sky. A reminder of my mistakes.”

Siebren frowns. “It’s not your fault, what happened. Your colleagues were idiots.”

“Sure. So am I.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Siebren says softly before straightening his posture. “You’re incredibly reckless. Nagging. Inappropriate at the worst of times—”

“—OK, I get it,” Harold laughs.

“—short-sighted, and far too trusting, but you’re not an idiot. Never have been in all the years I’ve known you.”

Harold smiles despite himself. It's an abysmal effort to cheer him up, but Siebren is trying his hardest, and he can't help but appreciate it. “I hope good-looking is on that list.”

Siebren smirks. “Do you really want to know?”

Harold punches Siebren lightly on the shoulder, shaking his head. The events of a few hours past feel so long ago, and Siebren is acting like nothing happened. Knowing how fragile Siebren is now, it should comfort Harold that he’s laughing and talking normally, and yet it doesn’t. There are words left unsaid, stories left untold. Siebren hides it well, but his jaw is set tight and his shoulders are tense. Mentally, he’s in control. Emotionally, that’s harder to say.

Harold waits for Tracer to begin talking before he makes his move. “That was a black hole earlier,” he says.

“Yes,” Siebren utters, looking uncomfortable.

“I heard the noises. The universe’s melody, as you called it.” He pauses before admitting, quieter, “It’s terrifying.”

Siebren grimaces. “I know.”

Harold frowns. “How many lives did you take?”

“Far too many to count,” Siebren says. “I’d rather not kill, but it's a necessary evil in my life now. I cannot have any regrets.”

Harold remembers the lifeless body of Tempest Williams stacked amongst the other guards and feels sick to his stomach. “I’m not like you then.”

“It gets easier over time, the killing. You learn to accept it. Death is inevitable and life can be cut short. Although,” Siebren ducks his head, “I was not necessarily in control when I first took a man’s life. Even now, it's easy to convince myself it's all for the sake of research.”

Harold has suspected this for some time. He isn’t surprised, but it doesn’t comfort him to know that Siebren has lost his mind before and that Talon manipulated him to kill when he was in that fragile state. It explains why all the Talon staff feared Siebren. In his mind’s eye he sees himself in that fateful moment last night when he lost control himself, eyes wild and crazed, his attacks bloodthirsty and savage like an animal. In a way, it’s worse than Siebren, because he doesn’t have an excuse to defend his actions. He let his emotions get the better of him, clouding his vision. He is the one who killed those people. He’s a murderer.

Siebren's hand goes up to his shoulder, rubbing small circles. Harold wants to lean his head onto Siebren’s shoulder and press his lips into his neck and forget about all the atrocities they have just committed, but he knows this is the extent of Siebren’s comfort. Siebren has a point, and he will not back down from it.

“I don’t want to get used to killing,” Harold whispers.

Siebren continues rubbing, his touch light. “I know you don’t. But you will. You’ll have to if you want to survive, and I know you can. You have gotten so far by yourself.”

Harold smiles bittersweetly. “Still, if only I can avoid it.”

“You’re a grown man, Harold. I won’t shield you from the world, but I will support you.” Then, with a smirk, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Harold feels a tap at his hip and sees Siebren’s knuckles grazing the fabric. He smiles softly to himself as his fingers entwine with Siebren’s, squeezing softly as they continue their walk.

Tracer leads them to an unassuming building a few stories high. Lights and noises can be seen from the tinted windows above. Harold holds his breath as Tracer goes through the main doors and blinks within. His eyes shut rapidly as a burst of light fills the large room.

Harold has to admit, of all the things he expected when first arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, a party wasn’t one of them.

The place is a laboratory filled with tools, though they have all been shoved to the side away from view. There’s a long table full of foods and drinks, all with a little piece of paper to tell people what it is, who made it, as well as any allergy warnings. Music is playing from an old-fashioned radio. Many are partnered in twos and threes, conversing pleasantly to one another. Soon as they enter, all the people within turn their heads to them, smiles on their faces. To Harold’s disappointment, he doesn’t see Winston.

“Who are your friends?” A rather tall and muscular man with white hair asks with a teasing tone in his voice.

“New guys here to hang with us for a bit. Got into a bit of a scrap to save them.” Tracer turns towards them and grins. “Should’ve seen us, we were fighting Talon with the best of them.”

“Then they are comrades.” From the table behind, the tall muscular man grabs a jug of beer and lifts it up.

That’s enough to get the small crowd to approach them. In an instant the three of them are surrounded on all sides by friendly faces. Tracer giggles lightly to herself while she raids the buffet table.

The first to greet them is the large, muscular man, flanked on either side by an equally muscular young woman and a bearded dwarf. All three of their eyes glance down to Siebren’s feet, floating a foot off the ground. They don’t seem to be frightened. In fact, they seem more intrigued than anything.

“All sorts of fancy schmancy tech nowadays,” the dwarf scratches his head.

“What’s wrong, old friend? Have you lost your touch?”

“My ‘touch’ can make your armour break faster than a boiling frog in a cauldron!”

“It’s not ‘technology’,” Siebren utters. “I have just harnessed gravity.”

The two old friends look at each other incredulously and shrug. The bigger man is quick to put a hand out. “Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

“Torbjörn Lindholm,” the dwarf says, putting his own hand out.

Siebren stares at the hand for just a second before shaking both firmly. “Sigma,” he says.

“Dr. Siebren de Kuiper,” Harold corrects, turning to Siebren. “Talon used to call him Sigma. But you don’t have to use that name anymore.”

He looks like he’s about to object but Reinhardt has already clasped Siebren on the shoulder. “So they have enslaved you, but you escaped? How dreadful they must be, to strip a man of his identity.” His expression suddenly goes dark. “You were not the first to get pulled into their ranks. We lost one of our own that way.”

Harold almost thinks Siebren might set the record straight but instead he keeps his mouth shut. As if sensing Siebren’s discomfort, the two men launch into a variety of anecdotal stories about each other. Reinhardt was once a knight for the German Crusaders during the Omnic War, while Torbjörn was a member of the Ironclad Guild. He tries to play it off as a cool secret society, but Reinhardt clarifies that it was just a very ostentatious name for a group of ragtag engineers. The two had been best friends for a very long time, to the point that Reinhardt was given the honour of naming Torbjörn’s first child. At this, Brigitte, who reveals her identity as the eldest daughter, begins to pick holes at her father and godfather’s stories, correcting them on the more fantastical elements.

Harold watches as Siebren falls securely into conversation. He mentions his own work as an astrophysicist, his early life growing up and working in Den Haag and the very briefest account of the ISS accident that gave him his gravitic powers. He does not talk about his mental health or what he did in Talon, which is probably for the best. It will inevitably sour the party mood. Siebren joins in on the light teasing shared between the family, making fast friends with Reinhardt and Torbjörn and Brigitte. It’s the first time he’s looked at ease since their escape, Harold notices. After today’s events, he never thought he’d see that smile again. He’s glad he’s been proven wrong.

“You are a man of strong caliber, are you not?” Reinhardt asks Siebren.

“I should think so,” Siebren utters.

“Oh no,” Brigitte sighs.

“Then why not a friendly little challenge between friends? Brigitte, bring us some beer.”

“Not a drinking contest, Reinhardt.”

“It’s hard enough lugging you around, you big oaf, but I ain’t lugging the two of you,” Torbjörn mutters.

“What’s wrong?” Reinhardt smirks at Siebren. “You chicken?”

Harold silently groans as Siebren stiffens visibly. With the markings of a man who very much doesn’t like it when someone attacks his inflated ego, Siebren stretches his hand out and the two men shake.

“This is not going to end well, is it?” Brigitte murmurs under her breath.

“Nope,” Harold sighs. He knows from many a post-conference pub crawl that Siebren, despite his size, is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Harold is a heavyweight when it comes to drinking, but he never liked the taste of alcohol enough to drink outside of special occasions. Certainly not enough to know how many drinks is his limit.

While everybody gets a table cleared for the drinking contest, Harold walks over to the buffet table and grabs a small plate. He fills it up with as much food as the small paper plate can hold. He’s got spring rolls and samosas and moon pies that look suspiciously similar to the ones he made back on Horizon, and is pleasantly surprised to find out that Winston made them himself. Food in hand, he finds a corner of the room and munches quietly, watching the small crowd. Tracer’s having a dance party with a shorter, tan man on rollerskates near the radio. On the second floor, near the staircase, Satya is watching the man with narrowed eyes. The look in her eyes is knowing and distrustful, and Harold thinks he sees the same look in the man’s eyes whenever their stares connect, but they don’t say a word to each other. A few minutes later, Brigitte breaks away from her father to chat with Satya. She hides it well, but Harold can see the relief flood Satya’s body.

It’s an organization, but it feels more than that, Harold thinks. These people from different walks of life move and talk to one another like they’re friends. Suddenly Winston’s comment that Overwatch is his family makes a lot more sense. They have all bonded over disaster and war, and those bonds are stronger than gravity.

Harold can only hope this family will accept him.

From the corner of his eye he spies a Chinese woman with glasses approach him. She looks familiar, but where from he cannot place. In her hand is a plate full of Chinese dumplings.

“You do look like the photos, Dr. Winston,” she comments.

“I’m sorry?”

“Winston, my friend. N-not you, Dr. Winston,” she stumbles. “He’s got a photo of him with you. The two of you are so cute!” Seeing his confusion, she smiles shyly. “Sorry. You may not know me. I’m Mei-ling Zhou, but you can call me Mei.”

“Oh, I remember. You were in the same team as Dr. Adams. Part of Overwatch’s Ecopoint project, right?”

Mei frowns deeply, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Harold knows that look. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

She nods quietly. “We got into a blizzard in Antarctica. The cryostasis machine malfunctioned for everybody except myself.”

Harold cannot help but grimace. He’s missed a lot about the world, it seems. He’d worked together with Julian Adams, right before he got the job with Lucheng Interstellar, a long while before he will meet Siebren. Silently, he gives a soft prayer for Adams and his family, wherever they may be.

Harold takes his time to stare at the crowd and the unfamiliar surroundings. After a few seconds, he says, “I don’t see Winston.”

“He’s a bit nervous about meeting you, so he left. I’m not sure why though, this party is to celebrate him and all he’s done for us.” She points at Tracer, who’s taken a break from dancing to commentate on the drinking contest. As Harold suspects, Siebren is losing badly. “Lena got into a really bad accident. She was like a literal ghost, all see-through, disappearing for months and then reappearing. ‘Chronally displaced’, they called it. But Winston made a device so she can be with us here in the present, and now she can zip through time. She’s so cool!”

So Winston’s an Overwatch agent and an inventor, Harold thinks. Another surge of pride fills his lungs. “I assume you know him through Overwatch?”

“No, we only met recently, but he is very lovely and very kind.” She giggles behind her hand. “You raised him well.”

Harold chuckles as he rubs the back of his head. “I suppose I did.”

"He misses you. Every time I see him, he’s always looking at a photo of you.” She gives a shy smile and adds, “He hasn’t said much, but I think he’s glad you’re safe.”

Harold stares at his surroundings, warm but unfamiliar, a fusion of the past and present and future. Winston’s stories make up the particles of these stony cliffs and worn workbenches Harold’s missed so many of them. He wants to learn them, one by one. He wants to make up for lost time. “You don’t…happen to know where he is?”

Mei just smiles and points at the main hangar doors. “Check the cliffs outside. He likes sitting there to think.”

Harold gives her a friendly goodbye, locates Siebren (who fortunately did not partake in Reinhardt’s challenge and is still sober) and together they head away from the party.

It’s hard to find out what Mei meant by the cliffs, because most of the area outside the HQ is made of steep cliffs. The cool evening wind whips at them, a stark contrast to the warm levity of the party. Harold's worried he might have to rely on the nanobots to see in the darkness, but the moon shines brightly above their heads, lighting the way.

They make their way down the stone steps and follow the path between the buildings. It’s there that they find Winston, sitting at the edge of the cliff between two smaller buildings, gazing forlornly at something in his hands. Harold pauses in his steps, his breath catching in his throat as he watches Winston’s silent form. Winston is here, looking exactly the same as he remembered, only more mature. The white bodysuit hides most of his fur,

He turns to Siebren, who only stares at him. Siebren offers his hand to Harold and he squeezes it lightly before finally approaching Winston. Harold sits beside him, not saying a word. Winston doesn’t appear to react, but Harold can feel those sunflower irises scan him, looking for any sign that he is an imposter or a ghost or a figment of his imagination. Something to prove he's not real.

Harold glances at the photo and recognizes it almost immediately. It’s one that Winston took when he was a child, the first one he ever took, albeit by accident. Harold was working in the lab with Hammond when Winston took the picture. Seeing his younger self smiling politely into the camera, seeing baby Winston play eagerly with his glasses, it sends a familiar ache of affection to his chest.

“Where’d you get that photo?” Harold whispers.

“The camera,” Winston replies, just as quiet. “I grabbed as many spare pictures I could find, and then I downloaded the rest from the camera before I came to Earth.” He smiles bittersweetly at the photo. “I was so young.”

“We both were.”

Winston blows air out of his large nostrils. “You were in your forties.”

“I’m still young, I was just even younger back then.”

Slowly, he grabs one end of the photo and pulls it towards him. He can feel Winston’s fur on his arm beneath the white bodysuit and the body heat radiating. For a second, Winston stiffens, and Harold worries if perhaps he’s gone too fast, but then there’s an arm wrapping around his back. He turns to see Winston’s eyes, as wide and beautiful as the moon in the sky.

“I miss you,” Harold admits. “Sorry I haven’t been here for you all these years.”

Winston shakes his head softly. “It’s fine. I had family to take care of me when you were gone.”

“Overwatch, huh?”

“Yeah,” Winston chuckles quietly for a few seconds. He stares at the photo and smiles. “I guess I’m lucky then,” Winston says, finally gazing upon Harold. “I’ve got two families now.”

Harold’s vision begins to blur and he realizes that tears are forming in his eyes. He huffs as he wipes them away with his arm, which he has only just realized is still red from when he was strapped to the bed. He’s not sure if it’s the sea wind or the new setting or the moon above his head, but Oasis already feels like a lifetime away. Winston’s gazing upon him with unspoken affection.

Before he can say anything, the air shifts as Siebren floats over.

Harold patted the ground next to him. “Join us,” he says.

“I shouldn’t,” Siebren starts, but Harold is already standing up and dragging him to the cliff edge. With a roll of his eyes and a smirk of his lips, Siebren waves his hand. Rocks from the cliff roll up and stack together to create a reclining chair for Siebren to lie down on.

“And you thought me seeing in the dark was special.”

“Off-target effects,” Siebren says in an annoyingly inaccurate representation of Harold’s voice.

Winston’s gaze lingers between the two older men, a soft look of understanding falling on his face. He chuckles deeply. “You two haven’t changed.”

Harold shares a look with Siebren. “We haven’t, have we?”

Siebren smiles bashfully but earnestly. “Speak for yourself.”

The three of them sit there and watch the stars as they glitter in the ebony expanse of space. They’re content to admire for afar, but old habits die hard, and soon Harold’s talking about the stories behind the constellations. Siebren joins in about the more scientific fact about star systems while Winston discusses the planets in great detail. For one brief moment, they’re just enjoying the present together, without fear or worry about the past or the present. They’re a family, reunited at last.

Harold doesn’t hear Siebren slip away, leaving him alone with Winston. His eyes are glued to the moon, pale and beautiful despite all the tragedy that bathes its surface. He wonders briefly if Chang’e, the goddess of the moon, saw the rebellion. Who would she mourn more? The humans who lost their lives, or the gorillas who endured so much suffering?

“You’re together with Dr. de Kuiper, right?” Winston asks suddenly.

Harold blushes despite himself. “Despite the universe being hellbent on keeping me buried in the ground? Yes.”

“But you were gone for a decade. Everybody thought you were dead. How did you find each other again?”

“Siebren found me. Or rather, Talon found me. I was called a lot of things while I was stuck on the moon. Jade Rabbit, Specimen: 31, a whole bunch of expletives, you name it.” He stares at the rushing waves far beneath his feet. “I joined Talon partly because Siebren was in their ranks, and partly because I didn’t know better. I think it’s the same with Siebren, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

“After all this time, you still loved each other?”

“I’m not sure if we still loved each other. I think we were relieved to have a familiar face at first. But then we fell into old habits.” Harold recalls the first fleeting kiss he pressed onto Siebren’s face after Tempest’s first attack and smiles. “Guess it’s more accurate to say an old flame got rekindled.”

Winston nods thoughtfully. “I know the feeling. Sounds similar to how I feel right now.”

Harold turns to Winston and frowns. “How do you feel about me being here?”

“I don’t know,” Winston admits. “A bit nervous, I suppose.”

“Nervous? About what?”

“About how I feel about our relationship. About the moon, and the others back on Horizon…and you.”

The waves beat against the rocky face of the cliff, reflecting the light of the night sky. Harold wonders right then and there what will happen if he jumps. From this height, the impact would normally kill him, but he’s not a normal man anymore. Will the nanobots protect him, or will it all be futile? Will Winston and Siebren cry over him if he dies for real this time?

Winston turns his head sharply away in embarrassment. “S-sorry. D-don’t take it the wrong way, I am happy that you’re here and that you’re alive. Heh. I’m…really glad you’re alive, actually, but…um…”

“It’s fine, champ. The past is the past. We choose whether or not we look back upon it for guidance.” Harold braves a small smile. “Whatever you want me to be, I’ll always be here to support you.”

Winston smiles bashfully to himself. He takes the glasses off his face and stares at them for a few seconds. Harold just looks at the frames, an identical copy to his previous pair, caressed in Winston’s gorilla hands like they’re the most precious thing in the world. He turns to Harold, smiles enigmatically, then slips them back on.

His words are quiet against the thundering waves and the howling winds, but to Harold, they’re crystal clear and perfect pitch.

“I really did miss you,” Winston whispers.

Harold wraps his arm around Winston’s shoulder and squeezes tightly. “So did I, buddy. So did I."

They stare at the ocean until they’re shivering from the cold. They stand up and walk together back to the party, side by side. There’s still nervous smiles shared, still a bit of fragile hesitation, but it feels like the walls between them have crumbled. They’ve become just a bit closer. He doesn’t even realise that his arm is still around Winston’s shoulder until he gets back to the party.

The light atmosphere is gone. The music has long stopped and there is no chatter or banter. Everyone’s attention is drawn up to a hologram, their faces unreadable. Harold stares at the hologram, where a news presenter, Olympia Shaw, stands in front of a very familiar building.

“We’re just outside Lucheng Interstellar’s headquarters here in Lijiang, where they have just made the announcement that Dr. Harold Winston is still up on Horizon One.”

At a press conference, the new director of Lucheng Interstellar stands amidst a small crowd of reporters. Harold doesn’t recognize the man, even when his name pops up. He smiles professionally into the camera.

“It’s absolutely gut-wrenching to lose one of our own, but now we have the chance to bring one of our scientists back home. If we are able to rescue Dr. Winston, not only will we know more about the tragic accident that cut communications with the lunar base, but we will also gain valuable data on human colonization in space. We might learn more about how humans will be able to adapt to live on Mars.”

Olympia Shaw shows the formal picture of Harold taken from his badge on the screen as she discusses Harold’s research and role on Horizon, as well as giving a vague generalization of the rebellion. It’s weird to hear someone talk about him like this, like he’s a celebrity of the utmost importance.

Tempest’s picture pops up briefly as the director discusses her ‘untimely’ death. The news claims it’s a sudden heart attack. Harold knows better.

The footage cuts back to the conference with the director, flanked on both sides by his investors. “We will be launching a shuttle as soon as possible. Our primary goal is to bring Dr. Winston back down to Earth safely and rehabilitate him if needed.”

He says more, but no one is concentrating on his words anymore. They’re all staring at the people flanked by his side. Moira and Sanjay stand a fair bit away from him, both dressed in sharp suits. He feels eyes latch onto his body, one by one. Suddenly his throat feels dry.

“Why are they saying you’re still on Horizon?” Tracer asks.

“My tracker should be on my old lab coat there, but that can’t be it. Dr. O’Deorain and Sanjay Korpal know I’m alive.”

Winston frowns gravely. “What are they planning?”

“The research,” Siebren utters, his expression dark. “Mr. Korpal was talking about Dr. Winston’s work with interest. The nanobots he has created can give a man temporary invulnerability. Talon hopes to use it to create the ultimate living weapon, an invincible machine of death.”

“We know Talon has already mastered mind control techniques, and if Dr. O’Deorain really is a member of Talon as our intel suggests, who knows what technology they have?” Winston shakes his head. “If it’s just technology and research they want, it still doesn’t explain why they’re saying he’s in space when he’s right here.”

“It’s blackmail,” Harold says grimly. He feels the eyes on his body once again but he tries to shake the feeling away. “They have part of my research, but not all of it. I’ve only wrote about improvements, not the actual design itself. And the original design is stored on Horizon’s computers. If they get their hands on it, combined with my notes, they can recreate it. Get the invincible soldiers they’ve always wanted.”

“It’s an excuse to go back up there,” Winston gasps. “If this means what I think it means, we have to stop them.”

“How?” Harold asks.

Winston smirks as he adjusts his glasses. “You just leave that to us.”

All around Harold, the Overwatch members rally together, faces bright and fierce in determination. They’ve huddled around Winston, looking up to him as their leader, but more than that they are united by a single cause. That’s the thing that unites these disparate people and personalities together, Harold realises. They all want to do good by the world. They are all heroes.

It’s always been Harold’s dream to change the world for the better, but so far he’s just sent it hurling faster into chaos and destruction. But with these people, this new Overwatch, maybe he finally has an opportunity to make amends. Maybe this is why he is here. To right his wrongs. To make a difference.

To be a hero.

He clasps Winston tightly on the shoulder. He closes his eyes for a second to compose himself, and when he opens them, he’s sure there’s fire and gold in his gaze. His voice is unwavering and strong. “Never accept the world as it appears to be. Dare to see it for what it could be.”

Winston’s eyes glitter. Small gasps escape from a few of the others around them. “Does that mean…? Are you…?”

Harold smiles. “I’m helping you out, hero. Wherever, however I can.”