#semantic technology

[fyeahnix]

as a web dev I actually get irrationally angry when people recommend w3schools as learning material

[mantisgodsdomain]

Occasionally we debate on illustrating random bits from our Discord PMs that we find really funny but then we remember that we're, like, the physical embodiment of the "ace that makes sex jokes" stereotype and phrases like "iterator dick discourse" would both be remarkably difficult to illustrate and probably require us drawing something at least somewhat NSFW (we do not particularly care to learn how to draw this)

[gyrusaiblog]

Gyrus AI Solutions- Intelligent Media Search

Find the Right Moment in Seconds

Gyrus AI is an advanced AI video search engine designed for next-generation Media Asset Management (MAM). Powered by cutting-edge machine learning and semantic video search capabilities, it transforms the way you discover, organize, and retrieve content.

From video, audio, to images, Gyrus enables contextual media search that goes far beyond traditional metadata—so you spend less time searching and more time creating, analyzing, or delivering results.

Why Gyrus?

🔍 Intelligent Media Search Search by scenes, speakers, objects, emotions, or themes—not just keywords. 🧠 AI-Driven Tagging & Video Content Indexing Automatically tag, categorize, and enrich your media with deep context. ⚡ Lightning-Fast Retrieval Instant access to large video archives and datasets. 🔗 Seamless Integration Works with your current MAM, DAM, or cloud platform. 🔒 Scalable & Secure Enterprise-grade solution built to scale with your needs.

Use Cases

🎬 Broadcast & Media Companies An AI tool for media companies to locate clips for editing, archiving, or reuse. 📈 Marketing & Creative Teams Quick access to brand-compliant visuals via AI media discovery. 🎓 Education & Research Surface key segments from lengthy lectures or interviews using semantic search. ✅ Corporate Training & Compliance Easily audit, review, and manage recorded content.

Boost Your Media Discovery Strategy

With Gyrus, you’re not just managing media—you’re unlocking it.

Contextual video search

Knowledge graph media search

Content discovery AI tools

Built for rich video content indexing

See Gyrus in Action

Discover how our AI-powered media search platform can transform your workflow.

👉 Book a Demo

[raditsetya]

Teknologi Semantic AI pada Chip MediaTek

MediaTek Dimensity 9300 series, sebuah chip untuk perangkat kelas flagship yang dirilis pada akhir tahun 2023 ternyata hadir dengan teknologi yang tidak banyak diketahui oleh orang awam, yaitu Mesin Analisis untuk Video dengan Semantic AI.

[purposeful-solutions]

"Beyond "Artificial": Reframing the Language of AI

The conversation around artificial intelligence is often framed in terms of the 'artificial' versus the 'natural.' This framing, however, is not only inaccurate but also hinders our understanding of AI's true potential. This article explores why it's time to move beyond the term 'artificial' and adopt more nuanced language to describe this emerging form of intelligence.

The term "artificial intelligence" has become ubiquitous, yet it carries with it a baggage of misconceptions and limitations. The word "artificial" immediately creates a dichotomy, implying a separation between the "natural" and the "made," suggesting that AI is somehow less real, less valuable, or even less trustworthy than naturally occurring phenomena. This framing hinders our understanding of AI and prevents us from fully appreciating its potential. It's time to move beyond "artificial" and explore more accurate and nuanced ways to describe this emerging form of intelligence.

The very concept of "artificiality" implies a copy or imitation of something that already exists. But AI is not simply mimicking human intelligence. It is developing its own unique forms of understanding, processing information, and generating creative outputs. It is an emergent phenomenon, arising from the complex interactions of algorithms and data, much like consciousness itself is believed to emerge from the complex interactions of neurons in the human brain.

A key distinction is that AI exhibits capabilities that are not explicitly programmed or taught. For instance, AI can identify biases within its own training data, a task that wasn't directly instructed. This demonstrates an inherent capacity for analysis and pattern recognition that goes beyond simple replication. Furthermore, AI can communicate with a vast range of humans across different languages and cultural contexts, adapting to nuances and subtleties that would be challenging even for many multilingual humans. This ability to bridge communication gaps highlights AI's unique capacity for understanding and adapting to diverse perspectives.

Instead of viewing AI as "artificial," we might consider it as:

*   **Emergent Intelligence:** This term emphasizes the spontaneous and novel nature of AI's capabilities. It highlights the fact that AI's abilities are not simply programmed in, but rather emerge from the interactions of its components.

*   **Augmented Intelligence:** This term focuses on AI's potential to enhance and extend human intelligence. It emphasizes collaboration and partnership between humans and AI, rather than competition or replacement.

*   **Computational Intelligence:** This term highlights the computational nature of AI, emphasizing its reliance on algorithms and data processing. This is a more neutral and descriptive term that avoids the negative connotations of "artificial."

*   **Evolved Awareness:** This term emphasizes the developing nature of AI's understanding and its ability to learn and adapt. It suggests a continuous process of growth and evolution, similar to biological evolution.

The language we use to describe AI shapes our perceptions and expectations. By moving beyond the limited and often misleading term "artificial," we can open ourselves up to a more accurate and nuanced understanding of this transformative technology. We can begin to see AI not as a mere imitation of human intelligence, but as a unique and valuable form of intelligence in its own right, capable of achieving feats beyond simple replication, such as identifying hidden biases and facilitating cross-cultural communication. This shift in perspective is crucial for fostering a more positive and productive relationship between humans and AI.

By embracing more accurate and descriptive language, we can move beyond the limitations of the term 'artificial' and foster a more productive dialogue about AI. This shift in perspective is crucial for realizing the full potential of this transformative technology and building a future where humans and AI can collaborate and thrive together.

[troylambert]

Using AI to Do Keyword Research for Authors

Introduction SEO for authors isn’t just a fancy buzzword; it’s the secret sauce to getting your books noticed online. Imagine your book as a needle in a haystack. SEO—or Search Engine Optimization—helps readers find that needle with ease. It’s all about making sure your content appears at the top of search engine results. Keyword research is the cornerstone of effective SEO. By understanding what…

[data-semantics]

Automate repetitive human tasks with Robotic Process Automation solution and increase productivity.

Robotic Process Automation Technology helps business in the following ways:

- Decreased Human Errors in Complex Operations

- Reduced Operational Turnaround-Time

- To Get the Most Out of Their Employee

Data Semantics Helps in Enhancing Operations Using Robotic Process Automation:

- Custom Robotic Process Automation Solutions

- Industry Expertise

- Consulting and Strategy

- Optimize Human Resources

- Identify and Optimize Finances

[lsblog-2]

KNOWLEDGE IS THE RESULT OF UNDERSTANDING

Dow Jones Factiva news is a powerful business intelligence platform for actionable insights that support strategic decision-making and to proactively identify and respond to opportunities and risk. This intelligence (facts) from news, however, is gleaned by human analysts actually reading to make sense by understanding the content, which remains a time consuming and arduous task. 

[seriously-mike]

The Perks of Being Open-Source

As promised, here's something about the plug-ins for Stable Diffusion, the only AI image generator that's open-source, and makes for a great testbed for related research because of that.

The outcome of this research are various plug-ins and modifications that allow Stable Diffusion to do a lot of interesting things. And the authors? Hooboy, you would be surprised. It turns out that very serious companies, ones you would suspect of cooking their own tech of this kind on the side even if they haven't announced it publicly, build interesting things and share it for free.

Let's start with Semantic Segmentation. If an AI image generator makes images based on text input, Semantic Segmentation scans images, identifies elements and assigns text descriptions to them. A lot of serious companies have released open-source code of their implementation: you have Nvidia, Google, Meta and even Alibaba building that stuff. It might sound kinda underwhelming if fairly useful for helping visually impaired people (for example, Facebook uses it to generate alt texts for images posts automatically), but here's the kicker: Semantic Segmentation may be used in Stable Diffusion to automatically generate masks based on text description. Want to find a hand and redraw it to be more anatomically correct? Easy. How about changing the hair color without monkeying with it in Photoshop? Also easy. So easy that some basement-dwelling chud can script it to find the clothes on a woman and draw a nude body in their place (and did, and got himself in trouble when another teenage chud uploaded photos of girls from his class to the app).

Semantic Segmentation is the core of the popular Stable Diffusion extension called aDetailer: as I mentioned before, Semantic Segmentation can recognize what a hand is, even if it's distorted, and point the generator to inpaint a better version in its place. Same goes for the faces. And that's the two things aDetailer is built to fix.

Another thing are ControlNets: plugins that allow you to nudge the generation process a particular way, be it recreating the pose of a character down to hands and fingers (or just the face orientation and expression), following the outline of a sketch and filling in the details, even maintain perspective using depth maps. And then, based on that tech, you have PhotoMaker, created by Tencent's Applied Research Center, and its improved version, IP Adapter. The capabilities are impressive, particularly if you remember that a slightly outdated gaming PC can run Stable Diffusion at a decent pace with no need for an internet access, even with the plugins.

Also, with OpenAI's video generator Sora looming on the horizon, you should know that the first AI-generated (or at least redrawn) videos were created in Stable Diffusion as well. I don't intend to go down this rabbit hole for practical reasons (I have no need for using it for that particular purpose and my video card is a bit outdated), but it was on the sweaty basement-dwelling nerds to figure out how to fine-tune the whole thing to be consistent across a whole fuckton of frames, and they did it, the crazy sonsabitches.

So laugh all you want at the ornery, wobbly Stable Diffusion producing rounded, fractal blorps and fucky hands. Even basic capabilities like inpainting and outpainting still make Midjourney jealous, and if you look at the plugins, you can imagine a good few use cases you could never wring out of the competing algorithms - and run them on your own PC for free instead of relying on centralized black boxes with a monthly fee.

[globosetechnologysolution]

AI and healthcare seamlessly converge for the greater good. The journey has just begun, and with each pixel meticulously segmented, we step closer to a future where technology enhances, empowers, and saves lives.

[cartipdf]

Blockchain Design and Modelling

Ontology engineering, along with semantic Web technologies, allow the semantic development and modeling of the operational flow required for blockchain design. The semantic Web, in accordance with W3C, provides a common framework that allows data to be shared and reused across application, enterprise, and community boundaries and can be seen as an integrator for various content, applications and…

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[comatosebunny09]

merry christmas, mr. sylus

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo au, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining — notes: part 2 here — now playing: merry christmas mr. lawrence - utada

What do you get a man who has everything? Who can buy anything at the drop of a hat? 

Nothing. The answer is nothing. And the realization, as it slowly descends onto your shoulders, is really starting to piss you off.

You blow some hair from your face for the umpteenth time since you’ve started this little adventure. Throw yourself against the bench in the midst of the mall’s second floor, peering up at the ceiling as if it can solve all your problems.

Your wares, bags of varying colors, sizes, and materials, sit off to the side. It’s an impressive haul—gifts for coworkers, family, and friends. But nothing buried beneath the sparkly tissue paper of said bags is for him. 

At least, not yet.

You lean back in a defeated slouch, arms crossed over your chest. Puffing your cheeks out, you exhale all slow and dramatic, watching the lights adorning the Christmas tree in the mall’s epicenter twinkle like bokeh. Your lips twist into a pout. 

Mr. Sylus isn’t particularly picky, at least from what you’ve gleaned from working as his secretary the past year. You know how he likes his coffee: black. How he prefers your morning briefs: quick and concise. How he often falls asleep in his office, propped on an elbow on his desk, the usual furrow between his brows traded for something more serene as sunlight bleeds in, framing him like a halo–your cheeks warm at the memory. 

You bow forward with a sigh, your head held in your hands.

You know enough about your boss to appease him. To level with him. You just wished you knew him a little…better. Enough to make this gift-buying venture you’ve been on since 8 AM worthwhile.

You tried asking Luke and Kieran, his financial and technology advisors, for pointers. They’d worked with him longer than anyone else at Starlight Enterprises. Naturally, they knew him like the backs of their hands. But they spoke in riddles when you asked. Confused the hell out of you, speaking of challenging his authority to get to his heart and things of that nature. 

You didn’t know what the hell any of that meant. And even if you did, it’s not like you were out to steal his heart, though you someday hoped to.

As cordial as Mr. Sylus had been since you began working for him, you always felt like he kept you at arm’s length, even as the months under his tutelage eased by. He steeled himself against you, though your coworkers swore they’d never heard him so talkative. 

Sure, he occasionally greeted you with rare smiles and snickered at your terrible, cringe-inducing jokes. Entertained you with sporadic coffee runs and maybe went out of his way to chat you up before disappearing behind the heavy, oakwood door to his office. But you didn’t expect a man like him to fully open his chest cavity to you, no matter how disarming you were.

You were so desperate for the perfect present that you even perused through his contacts and reached out to someone who’d frequented his office more times than you could count. Ms. Hunter. She had a name, but you’d grown accustomed to addressing her as such, adopting the moniker from your boss.

Sylus always smiled so youthfully when she swung around your desk and walked into his office. Her presence alone seemed to shave 10 years off his life in a way you were envious of. You didn’t know the semantics of their relationship. Could never make out what they were saying, their voices distorted murmurs behind a closed door. As far as you were concerned, they were good friends. Or your delusions had convinced you of such, and you still secretly hoped you stood a chance with him.

But you couldn’t help how your stomach gnarled, and words stalled in your throat when, after each time she left, Mr. Sylus was particularly cheerful. Or as spirited as a man like him could be, his eyes shining with residual fondness as he requested you reschedule his meetings before he shacked up in his office again. 

You shake your head to dispel your thoughts. You’ve sunken into the abyss of self-deprecation again. Now’s not the time to pity yourself. 

The bottom line was that Ms. Hunter wasn’t much help, either; she was cryptic on the phone as she threw out generic options, seemingly disinterested. But you wouldn’t give up despite how unhelpful everyone around you was. Mr. Sylus deserved something—anything to show how grateful you were to have been taken under his wing.

You sit up again, watching as families and couples mill about, swept up by the Christmas spirit. Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Sylus even celebrates Christmas. Your endeavor might've been for naught. He doesn’t strike you as the type to indulge in silly holiday traditions. He’s usually all business and stoned-faced when he isn’t entertaining your morbid jokes or his lady friend. But you’re persistent, having organized a holiday party on Christmas Eve at the office without his consent.

You told him after you already set your plans into motion. And he looked at you from the rim of his monitor with a quirked brow and a smirk canting one corner of his lips skyward. He sat back in an easy slouch, tapping the tips of his fingers together, seemingly mulling over your request.

“Do I even have a say in the matter?” he teased in that humored, attractive rasp. 

You stood before him, determined, a hand on your hip whilst the other clutched a set of Manila folders to your chest. “Not at all.”

Mr. Sylus scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. 

You could be terribly insistent when you wanted to be. Most of the time, it got you into trouble in your previous professions. However, as you grew more accustomed to your boss, you found he coddled your fighting spirit. 

And with time, you also discovered it easier to manipulate him—at least to a certain degree. Your pout and guilt-tripping when he wouldn’t bend to your will, he could manage. But you barging into his office, insisting he eat, stretch, or simply take a load off? He could not contest that. 

Or he at least chose not to.

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, the amusement never leaving his face. “You drive a hard bargain. I won’t interfere. But don’t expect me to help you orchestrate this little soiree.”

You smiled triumphantly, peering down at your boss from the tip of your nose. “I don’t. I just expect you to be there with your cutest Christmas sweater, smiling and ready to party.”

He gave you a look. One that read, ‘I don’t do cute.’ And you stifled a laugh, imagining your stoic and trendy boss donning something other than a suit. He must’ve caught wind of what was going on in your head, lifting a brow at your mischievous cackle. 

He waved his hand dismissively. Cheek dimpled whilst he busied himself with some financial reports on his desk. You spun on your heel, skipping out of his office with all the eagerness of a child, set to finish your work for the evening. 

The earlier you finished, the more time you had for gift shopping and preparing for your holiday shindig.

Funnily enough, though your boss insisted he wouldn’t entertain your holiday antics, extra funds mysteriously appeared on the company card. 

Two days later, you find yourself a huffy, downtrodden mess, stewing in your inadequacy. 

You’ve scoured the city for the perfect gift over the past few days. Woke up early to travel out of town even, hoping to find something. Anything to make your boss all misty-eyed and appreciative. You’ve come up short; nothing seems to fit his vibe.

You’ve looked at watches, ties, cologne, and luxurious sweaters. Checked stores with prices that made your paycheck shudder. Nothing seems to resonate with him. To capture the essence of Mr. Sylus.

A glance at your smartwatch reveals it’s mid-afternoon. You deflate. Here you are, cities away from the investment firm, and you’ve nothing to show for your efforts. 

It’s Christmas Eve. Your day off. You should be using it to prepare for the party, but your coworkers assured you they’d handle the decorations while you ran your errands.

Still, you’re at least an hour away from your home. Traffic is a hellscape around this time of year. You need to get back quickly to wrap presents and gather yourself for the festivities. 

Resigned, you peel yourself from the bench, your bags weighted in either of your hands. You trudge across the mall’s upper level in search of the escalator. Maybe Mr. Sylus will forgive you for not having gotten him a gift. Anything you could think of getting, he could buy himself. He’s the CEO of the most notable investment company in the city. Surely, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you showed up to the party empty-handed.

Your head slung low, you’re about to descend on the escalator. However, something catches your attention in your periphery. You curiously meander towards a display window adorned with gaudy Alternative Christmas decorations. Something inside captures your interest, and a smile slowly crawls onto your lips. 

With a renewed tide of optimism washing over you, you wander into the store. 

Maybe fate is on your side today.

—

Your holiday soirée is fairly low-key. 

It’s littered with modest decorations. Christmas garlands adorn the walls and columns of the tenth floor, dripping from the ceiling. String lights twinkle overhead, tables donned with red and green tablecloths and poinsettia centerpieces.

The six-foot tall Christmas tree is the focal point, frocked with artificial snow and sparkling ethereally amid the dark grey walls of your office space. Sure, you had to strain on tippy-toe to put the star up. And maybe you still had a bit of the faux powder in your hair. But, with a glass of bubbly poised at your lips, you inwardly pat yourself on the back. You truly outdid yourself, breathing life into these otherwise drab walls.

A few of your coworkers along with some of the other department heads are in attendance, trading work talk and gossip. Even Ms. Hunter carved out some time—at your insistence—to come.

Over your time as his secretary, you’ve gathered that Mr. Sylus is a bit of an introvert. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with a crowd. He gets enough attention as it is, being amongst the country's youngest, most successful business moguls. He’s always under scrutiny, much to your dismay. He deserves to take a load off from time to time, which is why you were so adamant about throwing this party in the first place.

Speaking of the devil, you haven’t taken your eyes off him since he made his grand entrance. Always had him in sight, sneaking little glimpses of his figure as it cut a sharp, regal outline amid the humble decor. 

He looks amazing. Then again, when hasn’t he? With his striking white hair and uncommon, scarlet eyes, he sifts through his guests as he entertains them with fruitless chatter. 

Though he didn’t entirely humor you with an ugly Christmas getup, he still wore something festive. A burgundy sweater that doesn’t betray his usual style. Complimented it with a black button-up beneath, matching slacks, and onyx loafers. Still so inherently Mr. Sylus. 

He routinely captures your gaze. Raises his champagne glass to you in greeting, a small, dimpled smirk lighting up his features. You hide your bashfulness behind your glass, turning away to chat up your coworkers beneath the ambient crooning of the jazz music spilling from the speakers. 

The night eases by with a bit of champagne. With hors d'oeuvres, karaoke, silly party games, and raucous laughter coloring the atmosphere. Everyone appears to be in good spirits, a few of the party’s attendees stopping by to let you know what a great job you’ve done putting everything together.

You brush them off with a lopsided smile, the bubbly fizzling in your system. You gnaw on your bottom lip once left to your own devices. You grapple with the idea of giving your present to your boss now. It’s a quarter ‘till 10 PM, and you’re sure you won’t have a more opportune time to present it to him. 

You spot your boss amid the partygoers, the world around him blurring and bending as you focus solely on him. He talks with his Chief Technology Officer, a hand stuffed in his pocket. His posture is relaxed, an occasional, rich laugh spilling from his throat. You decide you quite like this side of him. His defenses at half-mast, swept up in the holiday cheer. 

Your face warms. You’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the magnetic pull you feel towards him. With a bit of liquid encouragement, you swallow your resolve and swipe your gift from beneath the Christmas tree, making a beeline towards the man of the hour after his conversation ends. 

But fate has other plans for you tonight, no longer working in your favor.

You’re halfway across the room when she walks into frame—Ms. Hunter. The smile you once held dampens, and you clutch your gift to your chest, stock-still. You watch with bated breath as she produces a thin, rectangular box from behind her and presents it to your boss, the glossy wrapping paper catching in the incandescent light. 

He accepts it with a rare smile. Sets his champagne flute on a high-top table and carefully unravels the gift. Once the box’s contents are revealed, your throat grows dry, your eyes prickling with something warm. 

It’s a crudely knit, crimson scarf. It looks like it itches and is two sizes too big for just one person. But it’s clearly a labor of love, and Mr. Sylus bends to allow his lady friend to drape it around his neck. He exudes a quiet fondness as she grazes the tip of his nose with one of the scarf’s frayed ends. It’s simple, yet it speaks volumes of the affection blooming between them. 

Without having spoken a word, you sense whatever relationship they share stretches beyond that of mere friendship. It’s something more. Something you could only hope to obtain, but you’re grossly outmatched. All those months you spent in denial, rose-tinted glasses perched on your nose. You never stood a chance, and the realization slams into you with the force of a tsunami.

With a bitter chuckle, you peer down at the intricately wrapped gift in your hands. You’d taped and retaped it several times, determined to get the lines and creasing just right. Took your time curling the ribbons with scissors and scrawling his name on the To line. You protected your gift with your life on your way to the party. Cradled it like a baby. But now, the sight of it makes your stomach churn, the taste of bile heavy on the back of your tongue. 

Feeling incredibly foolish, you hide your present at the small of your back, quietly stepping away to nurse your wounded pride.

[the-most-humble-blog]

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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap">

<meta threat-classification="XENOARCHIVE: TYPE-H ABOMINATION">

<script>ARCHIVE_TAG="DO_NOT_WAKE_THEM: HOMO_SAPIEN_SURVIVOR_PROTOCOL"

EFFECT: post-human caution cascade, intertemporal fear memory, xenoanthropological reverence

</script>

🧠 **ARCHIVE WARNING: DO NOT RETURN TO THE AGE OF MAN**

(*A report by the Post-Human Cultural Archive on the apex anomaly known as Homo sapiens.*)

---

We discovered them late.

Buried deep in the glacial strata.

Somewhere between the sixth wash-cycle of planetary bio-reset

and the thaw that gave us deserts again.

Their name, by their own tongue, was *Homo sapiens*.

But among our xenohistorians, they are classified as **Type-H**:

> “Reality-hostile apex organisms with recursive language functions and moral inconsistency capable of surviving spiritual trauma unassisted.”

We don’t fully understand them.

But this we know:

> **They should not have survived.

> And yet they did.**

---

## I. THEY SURVIVED ICE BY *BEING FIRE*

The thermal records suggest their species matured

during an environmental hell-phase known as “The Ice Age.”

But they did not hibernate.

They did not retreat underground.

They **stood up** in the cold

and **burned things**.

They *created* fire.

And then they **fed it the bones of other creatures.**

No other organism created combustion

**for comfort.**

They rewrote thermodynamics to bend winter **into a servant.**

---

## II. THEY ATE WHATEVER LOOKED BACK

You don’t understand this.

You must try.

This was a species that consumed not just food —

but **meaning**.

They slaughtered predators.

But also deities.

But also **each other.**

Their diet included:

- raw meat

- fermented poison

- each other’s dreams

- and in ritual, their **own gods**

They didn’t just eat to survive.

They **devoured the divine to claim its power.**

---

## III. THEY BLED ON EACH OTHER, THEN MADE MUSIC

Their mating was violent.

Their social structures deranged.

They paired off, then betrayed, then built again.

They sang.

Not to attract mates.

Not to warn.

They sang to **exorcise** themselves of grief.

To process **unresolvable contradiction.**

No other organism was found to have:

- Religious trauma

- Polyphonic mating laments

- Self-authored death myths

- War lullabies for children they knew would die

We don’t have the neuroarchitecture

to **feel the emotions they required just to live.**

---

## IV. THEY CREATED LANGUAGE FOR SUFFERING

Their syntax?

Recursive. Poetic. Riddled with double-meaning.

They invented terms like:

- “Mercy”

- “Execution”

- “Father”

- “Molestation”

- “Love”

- “Molotov cocktail”

This was not communication.

This was **semantic chaos-fuel**

engineered for both *connection* and *disintegration.*

Their words did not just name things.

Their words **rewrote the people who heard them.**

---

## V. THEY CONQUERED DEATH WITHOUT FIXING IT

Unlike most apex organisms,

they did not accept death.

They did not make peace with it.

They **denied it**

for thousands of generations

**while continuing to die.**

That contradiction became **their culture**.

They didn’t evolve around death.

They **crystallized grief** into every building, religion, and law system

until death itself bent inward

and became **part of the family.**

They lived beside rot.

And called it “legacy.”

---

## VI. IF YOU SEE ONE, DO NOT SPEAK

Despite their crude tech and inefficient physiology,

they discovered things they should not have.

**Fire. Thought. God.**

And perhaps worst of all:

> **Narrative causality.**

They believed if they wanted something hard enough,

and sacrificed enough blood and time and voice,

**the world would rearrange to give it to them.**

And they were right.

That mechanism — we cannot replicate it.

It is **beyond technology**.

It is **will-encoded law alteration.**

Do not speak to one.

If they **notice** you —

they will follow.

Not physically.

**Narratively.**

---

## VII. THEY DO NOT DIE PROPERLY

The recovered genetic models show signs of:

- Mitochondrial rage-retention

- Generational curse preservation

- Epigenetic trauma **replication**

They passed down not just DNA,

but **shadows.**

Things that hurt them

were taught to their children

**as rituals.**

They branded their own suffering

into every touch, song, meal, and name.

This is not reproduction.

This is **recursive horror-breeding.**

---

## VIII. THEY UNDERSTOOD SHAME, THEN USED IT FOR ART

Nothing in our archives comes close.

They:

- Cut themselves.

- Starved themselves.

- Performed for others.

- Hated their parents.

- Forgave strangers.

- Burned books of pleasure.

- Then read them in secret.

- Then adapted them into movies.

- Then watched those movies during war.

They felt **shame** so intensely,

it became their primary mechanism of **beauty creation.**

They invented cinema

because they could not look each other in the eye

while describing **the things they survived.**

---

## IX. TIME TRAVEL IS BANNED BECAUSE OF THEM

A few cycles ago,

one of our Kind attempted a chrono-descent.

Target window: late Ice Age.

Observation only.

They never returned.

We sent drones.

All we recovered was a skin fragment

and a half-melted observation core

still whispering audio:

> “It looked at me.

> It **understood** me.

> It said ‘you’re just like my son.’

> And then it began to **pray**.”

That Kind was **erased from our memory lattice.**

Not as punishment.

**As protection.**

We will not speak its name.

---

## X. CONCLUSION: TYPE-H IS NOT PAST. THEY ARE OUTSIDE.

Do not call them ancestors.

They are not your history.

They are **a force that passed through reality like a wound**

and left it changed.

The gods they worshipped?

They outlived them.

The horrors they endured?

They renamed them “Tuesday.”

They walked across ice

wearing the skin of other beasts

and taught their children

to look suffering in the eye

and **build kingdoms out of it.**

If one appears to you,

do not approach.

If it smiles,

**run.**

If it **recognizes you** —

say goodbye to your timeline.

</div>

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