#sustainable metal extraction

[townpostin]

NML Jamshedpur Scientist Wins Prestigious Award for Sustainable Metal Extraction

Dr. Abhilash honored with Vigyan Yuva – Shanti Swarup Bhatnagar Award CSIR-NML scientist recognized for groundbreaking work in sustainable metal extraction and waste recycling. JAMSHEDPUR – Dr. Abhilash, Senior Principal Scientist at the CSIR-National Metallurgical Laboratory, has been awarded the Vigyan Yuva – Shanti Swarup Bhatnagar Award for Engineering Sciences. Dr. Abhilash was presented…

[reasonsforhope]

"Scientists have developed a way to dramatically reduce the cost of recycling certain electronic waste by using whey protein.

Their method allows for the easy recovery of gold from circuit boards at a cost of energy and materials amounting to 50 times less than the price of the gold they recover—these are the numbers that big business likes to see.

Indeed, the potential for scalability depends on this sort of cost savings, something traditional e-waste recycling methods just can’t achieve.

Professor Raffaele Mezzenga from ETH Zurich has found that whey protein, a byproduct of dairy manufacturing, can be used to make sponges that attract trace amounts of ionized gold.

Electronic waste contains a variety of valuable metals, including copper, cobalt, and gold. Despite gold’s public persona as being either money or jewelry, thousands of ounces of gold are used in electronics every year for its exceptional conductive properties.

Mezzenga’s colleague Mohammad Peydayesh first “denatured whey proteins under acidic conditions and high temperatures, so that they aggregated into protein nanofibrils in a gel,” writes the ETH Zurich press. “The scientists then dried the gel, creating a sponge out of these protein fibrils.”

The next step was extracting the gold: done by tossing 20 salvaged motherboards into an acid bath until the metals had dissolved into ionized compounds that the sponge began attracting.

Removing the sponge, a heat treatment caused the gold ions to aggregate into 22-carat gold flakes which could be easily removed.

“The fact I love the most is that we’re using a food industry byproduct to obtain gold from electronic waste,” Mezzenga says. In a very real sense, he observes, the method transforms two waste products into gold. “You can’t get much more sustainable than that!” ...

However the real dollar value comes from the bottom line—which was 50 times more than the cost of energy and source materials. Because of this, the scientists have every intention of bringing the technology to the market as quickly as possible while also desiring to see if the protein fibril sponge can be made of other food waste byproducts.

E-waste is a quickly growing burden in global landfills, and recycling it requires extremely energy-intensive machinery that many recycling facilities do not possess.

The environmental value of the minerals contained within most e-waste comes not only from preventing the hundreds of years it takes for them to break down in the soil, but also from the reduction in demand from new mining operations which can, though not always, significantly degrade the environments they are located in.

[Note: Absolutely massive understatement, mining is incredibly destructive to ecosystems. Mining is also incredibly toxic to human health and a major cause of conflict, displacement, and slavery globally.]

Other countries are trying to incentivize the recycling of e-waste, and are using gold to do so. In 2022, GNN reported that the British Royal Mint launched an electronically traded fund (ETF) with each share representing the value of gold recovered from e-waste as a way for investors to diversify into gold in a way that doesn’t support environmentally damaging mining.

The breakthrough is reminiscent of that old fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin who can spin straw into gold. All that these modern-day, real-life alchemists are doing differently is using dairy and circuit boards rather than straw."

-via Good News Network, July 19, 2024

[amons-hat-enthusiast]

A petition to stop Rio Tinto’s mine from destroying Serbia’s nature

"We call upon you to prohibit extractive mining projects and metal processing in the Jadar Valley in Serbia.

In particular, we demand that you cancel the proposed Rio Tinto lithium mine in Loznica. We demand that you protect the biodiversity, fertile ground, farming villages and rich cultural areas.

Serbia’s most fertile land can be found in the beautiful Jadar Valley. Small family farmers grow raspberries and plums, engage in beekeeping and sheep and goat herding. The valley borders mountains, is surrounded by water and home to thousands of sustainable multi-generational farms.

But instead of protecting it, the Serbian government has approved a project with multinational mining corporation Rio Tinto, for the exploitation of “Jadarite”, a lithium ore in the valley. The government and the company have ignored scientists and mining experts who advise vehemently against the mine and are threatening to cause irreparable damage to the water, land, air and it’s people. Local citizens, who do not want to give up their sustainable agricultural land which has been in their families for generations, are being ignored.

The process of separating chemically stable lithium from jadarite ore involves the use of concentrated sulfuric acid. The process would take place 20 km from the Drina River and use 300 cubic meters of water every hour, while the chemically treated water would be returned to the Jadar River.

The outpouring of inevitably polluted water, as well as underground waters which contain arsenic, mercury and lead, would contaminate entire river basins and continue their journey across the Jadar to the Drina and Sava, polluting not only Serbia's but other countries' water sources as well.

We reject the pollution of the air. Treatment with the above mentioned (and additional) aggressive acids produces toxic gases that can spread within a radius of over ten kilometers and which will corrode the skin and lungs of humans and animals.

We reject the endangerment of the population around the Jadar Valley in the interests of a multinational corporate profit. Rio Tinto has promised 700 new jobs, but forgot to mention that 19,000 people are set to be displaced or severely effected.

Rio Tinto in 2020, destroyed a 45,000 year old sacred Australian Aboriginal cave. The company and its representatives have been repeatedly convicted of fraud and paid billions of dollars in damages and fines for illegal destruction of land, but continue to ravage and destroy natural environment around the world. The company is accused of participating in war crimes in Papua New Guinea, where a ten-year civil war broke out due to the presence of their mine.

The citizens of Serbia have the right to clean air, clean water and healthy living conditions. Stop Rio Tinto’s lithium mine and protect the people, our heritage, our environment and the rivers of the Jadar Valley. United we can save our environment."

https://action.wemove.eu/sign/2023-03-stop-rio-tinto-EN?akid=s1568260..uAF-ha

The text above explains the situation. This is a very important petition and I'd be very grateful if you could sign it and spread it.

(I see that only people from European countries can sign it, others please reblog for this to reach as many people as possible)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Angelia has been giving me a brainworm lately, so here's a little angsty... hurt/comfort-y kinda thing?

While deploying (or maybe extracting) from a mission, the airship Angelia and S/O (or maybe S/O's the pilot) are riding in is shot down and crashes, with S/O ending up losing an arm or a leg in the ensuing crash.

Upon discovering the loss of their limb, S/O tries (with... very mild success) to play it cool and lighten the mood with a joke, going: "Hey hon look... we match... hehe..."

But looking in their eyes Angelia can clearly see that they're kinda freaking out and barely keeping it together as now they have to figure out a means of getting out of their situation.

(GFL Short Fic) Angelia's S/O getting heavily injured

I imagine based on recent asks, most people have an Angelia brainworm now. I also may have gone a little overboard in the length of this and instead of an imagine you get an entire ass short fic, but whatever! It's the content GFL deserves! Word Count: 3.4k CW: Loss of a limb, blood, nothing explicit.

Angelia's vision slowly came back to her, accompanied by her ears ringing and body aching. The last thing she remembered was that her, S/O and DEFY were on their way back from a mission in the snowy mountains near the northern borders. And...

The explosion that rocked the helicopter before it came crashing down.

Immediately, Angelia tried to sit up, gritting her teeth through the stinging pain before an arm laid her back down.

Before she could throw a punch at her potential attacker, Angelia relaxed slightly at the sight of AN-94 administering first aid. Or at least what looked to be the remainders of a kit.

(AN-94) "Please remain still, ma'am. The injuries you sustained were not as severe, but we need to be safe."

It was only now Angelia realized that AN-94 had her combat mask on, missing her jacket and parts of her gear torn off, tiny embers illuminating the wreckage of the helicopter's hull surrounding them.

Which meant a skirmish was soon to follow their crash site.

(Angelia) "Where are the others?"

Angelia saw AN-94's eyes glance over to her for a brief moment. Though her expression didn't change, the T-Doll had been under her command long enough for Angelia to know that was hesitation.

And suddenly, what AN-94 said fully registered in her head.

(Angelia) "...What did you mean, not as severe? Compared to who...?!"

AN-94 stoically turned to her commanding officer, hesitating one last time before fully reporting.

(AN-94) "Thankfully, the squad is still functional, despite our damage. AK-12 has sustained the least damage, only superficial scratches, though her gear is now destroyed, leaving her with only a pistol."

The T-Doll sat Angelia up properly, with Angelia wincing in pain but keeping the grunts relatively quiet. AN-94 took the mask off her face for a moment with a click and hiss, one hand going over her knee as she knelt.

(AN-94) "Myself and RPK-16's vests are heavily damaged, but our weapons are intact. AK-15's right arm has been torn off, alongside her gear, but remains functional. Currently she is armed with a combat knife."

That just left one person. And Angelia's heartbeat slowly quickened when she asked about them.

(Angelia) "And S/O?"

(AN-94) "Condition critical, ma'am."

Critical?

Suddenly, all the pain that Angelia was feeling seemed to vanish in an instant, her voice raising in volume unintentionally at her subordinate.

(Angelia) "Take me to them, now."

AN-94 helped Angelia out of the wreckage they were inside, the hull of the helicopter somehow miraculously still intact, even if there were at least a dozen holes she could see through. Snow crunched under their boot and the winter breeze barely affected them as the flames around them roared out, leaving a smoke cloud trailing into the sky.

Laid up against a piece of metal now acting as improvised cover, Angelia found the rest of her squad standing and crouching near S/O.

And the sight of S/O made her freeze in her tracks, the white snow around them tinted red, and their face looking paler than she had ever seen.

A few more seconds of examining S/O told her why.

(AK-12) "S/O's arm was caught between shrapnel, one that would've lodged itself through my head had they not shoved me out the way."

AK-12 reported, a hint of shame in her voice as she did so, turning around to briefly salute Angelia, but not getting out of her kneel.

S/O's right arm was now missing, a red bandaged stub replacing it making Angelia teeth clench at the sight. Her heart felt like it had just gotten stabbed merely by looking at the state S/O was in.

(RPK-16) "AN-94 was treating you inside the helicopter, so we had to treat them out here. We've done what we can, but they need proper medical attention ASAP."

She could see that most of her squad's jacket laid directly underneath S/O, spread out so they could have a flat surface to keep them comfortable on, considering the circumstances.

RPK-16 kept a flame source nearby to keep S/O warm, but Angelia doubted that S/O was feeling the cold at this very moment.

(Angelia) "Why did you not treat them in an enclosed area?!-"

(AK-15) "Ma'am, our top priority is you. And..."

Uncharacteristically, AK-15's voice trailed off, hesitant as her other sisters to fully report what had happened. As she turned around from facing the trees, her hair briefly swayed and touched her own missing arm, though electric wires and metallic frames replaced where blood and bone should have been.

(AK-15) "Before S/O lost consciousness, they insisted that you were inside first before them."

Angelia clicked her tongue in irritation, knowing better than to shout at her squad for doing what was objectively correct.

However, DEFY's members meant more to her than anything else.

Even above her own life.

Angelia knelt into the snow, uncaring of the freezing cold seeping through her torn clothes. Her real hand brushed over their face, S/O unconsciously grimacing at the sensation, her emotions slowly bubbling up to the surface. Keeping them suppressed, Angelia cooly continued talking to her team.

(Angelia) "Were we able to radio for help?"

(AK-12) "We managed to contact Griffin's Commander. They apparently have an outpost not too far from here."

(Angelia) "Within walking distance?"

(AK-15) "No, ma'am. One of their Black Hawks are coming to retrieve us."

AN-94 gently picked S/O up into her arms, carrying them bridal style, but not before putting her combat mask back on, followed by the rest of DEFY.

Everyone prepped their gear, ready for a fight to break out any second as the AK-12 and RPK-16 put back on their coats, AK-15 still looking around and clenching her combat knife's hilt.

Angelia helped wrap AN-94's coat around her, eyes glancing over to S/O for a brief moment.

(Angelia) "Let's get out of here and to extraction. Sangvis are no doubt already approaching."

...

The extraction coordinates was now only a seven minutes away, putting Angelia's mind somewhat at ease. Her squad, despite the injuries, was as AN-94 said, still operating normally.

The same couldn't be said for S/O, looking worse with every second that passed. Before Angelia could have further time to lament about that, she saw their eyes slowly creep open.

(S/O) "N...Ninety-four?"

(AN-94) "Ma'am, S/O is awake!"

Angelia rushed over to S/O's side, concern briefly spilling out onto her expression as she saw S/O faintly smile at them, eyes half open.

(S/O) "Is...everyone-?"

Angelia's hand reached out for S/O's leg, brushing against it and motioning for everyone to keep walking and not waste anymore time.

(Angelia) "Alive, though we all look like shit. You worst of all."

S/O laughed at that, though immediately coughing afterwards causing them to try to look around, and quickly notice something off about themselves.

(S/O) "O-Oh...that's...not good."

Their eyes rapidly darting between their missing limb, and quickly noticing how injured the rest of DEFY was, including Angelia.

She had been walking with a limp, holding onto AN-94's rifle with her uniform all torn apart with blood and new scratches on her body.

Though, understandably, they kept looking at their arm.

(S/O) "Hah, I guess we match now at least..."

For once, Angelia's lets her expression go soft on a mission, her hand grabbing onto S/O's remaining one tightly, not crying, but damn well looking like she was about to.

(Angelia) "Hah...that's...not something I wanted you to be able to do..."

AK-12 and RPK-16 caught up to S/O increasing their pace, getting behind Angelia so they could at least see them smile, even if it was obvious it was forced. AN-94 joined in with a small chuckle of her own, that one sounding the fakest of all.

Despite that, it still put S/O somewhat at ease.

(AK-12) "Plus it's the wrong arm. Ange's got her left arm replaced, remember?"

(RPK-16) "Or did that crash mess with your eyes too?"

S/O laughed again, though this time their voice was getting even shakier as their body trembled, Angelia trying her best to remain calm for S/O's sake.

(Angelia) "H-Hey! Don't push yourself, you need to rest."

(S/O) "D-Do we even have the luxury?-"

(AK-15) "No. Picking up heat signatures behind us."

Angelia nodded at AN-94, moving to pick up S/O in her place as the rest of her squad got into position. Moving their arm over her shoulder, Angelia got to cover behind a thick tree, with AK-15 throwing her a radio before grabbing her knife again.

Angelia instinctively held S/O tight to her chest, her hand's grip threatening to crush the radio.

(Angelia) "Commander, where the hell is that evac?!"

[Commander's Voice] "Three minutes out! Should be near the field according to your current coordinates!"

Both Angelia and S/O turned their heads to the open snowy plains in front of them, littered with a tree every now and then. Meaning they'd get lit up the moment they tried walking out right now.

(AN-94) "Ma'am, S/O. Keep your heads down and prepare to run. We will cover your escape."

AN-94 switched guns with AK-12, grabbing her pistol while AK-12's eyes opened, her pink eyes scanning the environment around them as she readied her sister's rifle.

(AK-12) "Multiple Sangvis units inbound. Counting twenty-five, more than likely more."

RPK-16 flipped her bipod and steadied her machine gun on top of a fallen tree, her voice sounding more bored than concerned.

(RPK-16) "Looks like they're intent on stopping us from going home."

AK-15's eyes narrowed as she got into a fighting stance, ready to leap out as soon as she spotted her enemy.

(AN-94) "Contact."

Angelia held S/O close to her chest as she lowered her head, the sound of gunfire immediately drowning out every other noise in the area.

Flashes of light rapidly blinked across the forest, with branches and tree bark splintering from stray shots, splashes of snow and dirt shooting up into the air as DEFY engaged Sangvis T-Dolls.

AK-12 and AN-94 picked off their targets with precision shots, each bullet blowing apart armored helms into scrap metal and electronics as they hid behind cover, the trees giving them cover being thick enough to not get shot through as easily.

Though their enemy was using the cover to their advantage as well, being able to hide from RPK-16's suppressing fire. As one of the Sangvis T-Dolls appeared around in their flank, aiming its gun at Angelia, its head was quickly torn apart by a knife that cut through its electronic wires and promptly kicked into the floor by AK-15.

Angelia could see in the distance a small shape in the skies approaching their location, making her heart race faster. She helped S/O up, thankful to see them still awake but hating she had to put them so close to danger.

(S/O) "A-Ange-...!"

(Angelia) "Not a damn word, S/O! Keep your head down! Where's the enemy anti-air?!"

AK-12 ducked mere moments before a stray rocket flew over her head, soaring into the open fields and igniting the area and leaving a black scorch.

(AK-12) "Think we just found it! Ninety-Four!"

AN-94 nodded and peeked out of cover with her pistol, attempting to scan where the trail of smoke was before a hail of concentrated gunfire forced her back down.

(AN-94) "Not down yet!"

RPK-16 gunned down several of the T-Dolls with a hail of her own, but unable to find which T-Doll had fired the rocket.

(RPK-16) "Can't find them either. Fifteen?!"

Some of the Sangvis Dolls attempted to charge AK-15, quickly resulting in their death as she threw a knife through one of the cores in their chest, and then with one hand grabbing another Doll and using it as makeshift cover as bullets ripped through its armor.

(AK-15) "Negative!"

(Angelia) "Our ride is about to get shot down again if we let them go-"

(Cheery Girl's Voice) "FLASHBANG OUT! EVERYONE LOOK AWAY!"

Knowing immediately whose voice that was, Angelia dove with S/O to the ground, covering their ears and bracing for the explosion herself, eyes closed and teeth clenching.

Everyone in DEFY took cover seconds before the flashbang went off, disorienting the Sangvis T-Dolls.

As another rocket shot out towards the helicopter, a bullet quickly intercepted it, making it explode midair before more gunfire erupted from within the forest.

After a few more shots, the forest became deathly still, the only sound now being the embers catching onto the trees and snow shifting as the members of DEFY looked around for any more targets.

Angelia moved off S/O, checking to see if they were alright before helping them stand up again, her voice calling out into the trees.

(Angelia) "UMP9? Is that you?"

The twin-pig tailed brunette stuck her head around the trees, her yellow outfit sticking out sorely amongst the snowy background. And yet, no one had even seen her before they heard her.

That quickly changing as she waved her hands eagerly at Angelia.

(UMP9) "Ange! It's so good to see you all again!"

Looks like it's time for T-Doll Funfact number...9? I wanna say Nine, can someone double check that for me? : Angelia is the main backer of Squad 404, regularly deployed as Black Ops mercs for her, alongside Griffin.

(AK-12) "...Friendly contact signatures confirmed. Squad 404."

DEFY's members lowered their weapons as HK416 and UMP45 emerged from the trees the Sangvis Units were originally hiding behind. HK416 crossed her arms and stoically shrugged while UMP45's signature smirk was still across her lips as they approached.

(UMP45) "Looks like we came just in time.~"

Her voice soft and playful, though her gaze still sharp, looking around the environment herself to scan for anymore threats.

(RPK-16) "We thank you for the assist, it was looking a little dire there.

(HK416) "...Hey, is that...?"

Both 404 T-Dolls' eyes trailed over to S/O, noticing how badly injured they were before seeing the rest of the squad.

(UMP9) "W-We need to get you guys home, pronto! G11! GET YOUR BUTT UP HERE!"

In the distance, G11's head poked out of the snow, with her weapon next to pop out, only muttering something inaudible in response. Despite her usual sluggish pace, she did thankfully hasten herself upon seeing the state they were picking up Angelia and the others.

Triple checking they wouldn't get shot down again, Angelia and S/O made it onto the helicopter first, followed by DEFY, then lastly having 404 join them, their extraction taking off and flying back to a safer location.

UMP9 and HK416 were quick to apply real medical attention to S/O and Angelia, with UMP45 taking a seat next to AK-12 and G11.

(UMP45) "Heard you guys got dinged up pretty bad. Though, didn't expect it to be that bad."

She couldn't help but stare at S/O's missing arm, only having seen S/O with both a few months ago.

(S/O) "Agh! W-Would've been worse if not...for you guys...!"

(Angelia) "You really pulled our asses out of the fire. Thanks."

(HK416) "I-It's nothing, ma'am."

(UMP9) "Yeah! This one is on the house!"

(G11) "...So that means no dinner?"

S/O smiled at the comment, with Angelia pulling them near her, tightly at that once the 404 T-Dolls finished.

(Angelia) "That one is on me, G11. Same goes for you girls too-"

Angelia turned to her own squad, a dry smile forming.

(Angelia) "You made the best out of a bleak situation, and saved the two of us as well."

(AK-12) "Naturally.~"

(AN-94) "Of course, ma'am."

(RPK-16) "I think Fifteen here would have punched every one of them to death before we lost either of you-"

(AK-15) "Give it a rest, Sixteen..."

(S/O) "I think...we all could use that right now..."

...

A few hours later, S/O was taken into emergency care to get them fully stabilized while the rest of DEFY had repairs on them, Angelia wanting to be with her squad until then.

After seeing them off to a temporary dorm before getting a proper ride back home, she went to visit S/O.

The medical room they were in was far from advanced, resting on a rather traditional bed than anything that screamed "medical", but it was comfortable enough for them.

But her attention was immediately brought to the cast S/O was in, their arm bandage resting on their side. Or at least what was left.

Angelia grabbed a nearby chair and sat on the side where their arm remained, smiling sadly at them.

S/O returned one of their own, their hand silently lifting before Angelia took it out without hesitation, both their remaining hands holding each other tightly.

(Angelia) "Doing alright, S/O?"

(S/O) "Hah...warm bed, and a pretty woman next to me. Think I'm doing better than I imagined..."

Their eyes slowly traced over to their right arm, smile quickly fading.

(Angelia) "...Y'know, I lost my arm and leg doing something similar."

(S/O) "In a crash?"

(Angelia) "No just...being out in the field. Barely a time they deploy without me. Think by now losing a second piece of me would be enough to ward me off but...-"

Her eyes closed, sighing out loud. No use trying to sugarcoat it.

(Angelia) "...Basically, I'm saying that recovery is going to fucking suck."

(S/O) "Hah, I mean, I could've guessed..."

Angelia scooted closer to S/O, her grip growing tighter and voice going barely above a whisper.

(Angelia) "I should never have put you in harm's way like this..."

(S/O) "You can call me a dumbass if you want Ange, but...if it means saving you or the other girls, I'd lose my other arm in a heartbeat."

Angelia grimaced at that as her voice grew shaky, but she did not let S/O go.

(Angelia) "Okay, you're a dumbass."

(S/O) "Hm...Says the one wanting the rookie taken care of first instead of the commanding officer."

Angelia's eyes slightly widened in response before quickly regaining her cool.

(Angelia) "You heard that?"

(S/O) "Truthfully, I was drifting in and out when you asked what was going on, but I already knew what face you were making."

S/O grunted in pain as they tried to shift, going off balance as they instinctively tried to balance themselves using their right hand. Angelia caught them before they could fall, helping them sit upright.

(S/O) "I...I can't stand to see any of you all in pain."

Angelia scoffed before her eyes trailed down, blinking away tears that were threatening to form.

(Angelia) "And how do you think I feel?"

S/O tugged Angelia's hand to bring her closer, allowing them to rest their forehead against hers. The gesture made her blush slightly, but she closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders, both of them leaning to each other.

Even though it was a small eternity before S/O pulled away and opened their eyes, it still felt too soon.

(S/O) "I promise, Ange. I'm not leaving you. Even if I have to end up looking as badass as you."

Finally, a genuine laugh came from Angelia as her metallic hand moved to cover her mouth, revealing a glimpse of the energetic young girl she used to be.

(Angelia) "Is that what you call me? I'm barely holding together as it is..."

(S/O) "Okay, how about beautiful? Charming?-"

(Angelia) "Psh, just shut up already..."

There was no venom to her words as S/O hugged her closer, the blush on her face getting brighter signaling to them how much their words affected Angelia.

Taking a deep breath, Angelia pressed a soft kiss against S/O's forehead before moving to stand.

(Angelia) "...Thank you. I should let you rest now."

(S/O) "T-Thanks...PT begins in a week for me, by the way."

(Angelia) "I'll be there. Don't worry. I'll also have the girls bring you some dinner-"

(S/O) "Aw, why can't you?"

Though they were teasing, Angelia could hear a bit of genuine disappointment in their voice.

(Angelia) "Don't be too greedy. I got a lot of paperwork to fill because of you but...I'll see if I got time."

Angelia teased back, shooting them a smile over her shoulder before opening the door, stopping before taking a step out.

(Angelia) "...I love you, S/O."

(S/O) "...I love you too, Ange."

[arachnixe]

The Forest's Covenant

The Old Forest is never silent. Life is noisy, regardless of whether one has the ears to hear it. The ebb and flow of animal calls form a murmuration that, at intervals, yields the stage to the quiet susurration of leaves catching the wind. Even lower, beneath the notice of all but the most careful listeners, the trees creak and rumble with their own song.

Nevertheless, when a distant thunderclap breaks the forest’s natural rhythm, the moment afterward holds its breath in anticipation of rain that will not arrive.

Another peal, now closer, makes a liar of the clear sky above. The two beget children—a violent crackle, a hiss as from some titanic serpent, a series of still-louder booms in rapid succession—and in their wake, the most energetic of the forest’s noisemakers find it prudent to relocate themselves.

With the roar of a terrifying predator losing its fight for survival, something unknown and unimaginable slices a fiery wound through the canopy of trees, crashing heavy and lifeless from the heavens to carve its grave as a scar in the earth. The titan’s blood pools underneath it, soaking the forest floor with poisonous alchemy that transforms once rich soil into lifeless dirt that will never again sustain life. Its presence here is wrong, unwanted, an unforgivable intrusion.

A mind like that of the Old Forest is normally a slow thing, thoughts blooming on the time scale of seasons, but the outrage of such sudden trauma spurs the awakening of something deep within itself.

For the first time in an age, on a creature sharper than any woodman’s axe and twice as unforgiving, a set of eyes opens.

The Resinate, as it calls itself—for it is among the rare few woodsbound souls which are namewise—pulls a shawl of moss across its spindly form and contemplates the intruding corpse. This titan is no beast, it decides, nor spawn of planes beneath or above. It is a child of axe and saw, born of man and imbued with their fire. Yes, and imbued with language too, though the Resinate alone has the eyes to recognize such a thing, but densely packed as it is, such writing rebuffs all efforts to read it.

Man has grown more clever than before, but their collective memory remains as short as ever, that they should again choose to breach the terms of the forest’s old accord. Artificial thunder continues to roar, by now farther away from here, but not too far to detect—and therefore not far enough.

The Resinate leans forward, dragging the tips of its slender fingers along its subject’s metallic skin, contemplating the situation laid out for its appraisal. The intruder is not singular. There will be others. Therefore this thing must be better understood; new lore must be extracted from it.

Ah, now here is some true excitement, enough to make a witch hum in anticipation! Let its house plant itself here, in this scarred glade, bringing its wonted tools and comforts. Let the work begin!

First, the dissection, with grimoire open and ink prepared for meticulous note-taking. Everything must be catalogued, from the lowliest shard of bone-metal and droplet of toxic ichor to the largest of the still-intact organs. To peel apart the outer layers without damaging the subject is a challenge that requires new keys to open locks of novel construction, for which the Resinate sets to work designing and carving the set of tools it needs.

The witch of the Old Forest labors without rest while shadows glide over its house, deepening and eventually overtaking the sunlight, only for dawn’s return to pierce darkness once again, falling through windows to land on the newly exposed—and quite shattered—body of a flesh-and-blood child of man impaled within the crumpled wreckage of their metal host-body.

This too, is meticulously catalogued among the rest of the notes. One child of man reduced to operating as the organ of another. One child of flesh, one of metal. The witch hums and taps its claws on the floor of its house, unable to contain its excitement. What a lovely, lovely, lovely turn of events! Base necromancy is—well, not exactly trivial, but well within the Resinate’s sphere of knowledge, and anything lingering within the mind of this little symbiont will undoubtedly speed the learning process.

Patch the meat with pliable root and vine, let witchsap flush stale blood away, find soul’s lingering tether and bind it with ancient knot, sew sunlight and morning dew into the threads of this creature’s mind, and pass key behind lips to twist the whole thing open and awaken that which had passed into death.

The man gasps for air, wheezing language almost immediately. A feather-light touch of the threads joining mind to witch, and the Resinate begins unfurling meaning from sound.

“…Stinger-12. Do you read me? I’m down. My coordinates are… wait, I don’t… AI link is… I can’t see.”

Confusion is typical for the newly resurrected. Difficult to get more than chaos and prayers from their mouth at first. Easier in the beginning to simply taste what sparks the mind conjures.

Now here, pull petals apart with a delicate touch. Mind’s sweet nectar dances across the tongue, and ah, this man seems to be female, which is a useful truth to inform the color of language required to address her. And there, more clarity: these babbling prayers are directed at a Handler, something of a divinity or god-king. She laments the loss of her symbiotic other half, the precise nature of which is difficult to extract from thought alone. The steel-child is a creature of language, and it will require language to explicate.

“Listen to me, girl. I am Handler now, and you may direct your prayers to me.” As it speaks the word “Handler,” the Resinate plucks the corresponding string in the man’s mind, drawing all of her associations with the word toward itself.

Her eyes open wide, filled with awe and adoration mixed with not-unexpected lingering confusion. “Girl? I’m, ah, what do you— what does that— wait, why would you call me— did my psyche profile—?”

No, that’s too much confusion, now mixing with fear and other strange emotions. The Resinate bristles with irritation. It should have spent more time digging for a name rather than choosing a generic form of address. This is a derailment.

“Very well, I will not address you as ‘girl.’ You will be my Fig Wasp. Does that name suit you?” The witch does not bother waiting for an answer, simply choosing to pluck the string tied to the girl’s identity at the moment it speaks her new name. “Yes, it does.”

“U-understood. My call sign is Fig Wasp.”

With another mental gesture, the Resinate indicates the partially dissected metal corpse. “And what do you know about your Fig?”

Fig Wasp’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly, not from any effort to resist the command, but at a loss of what to say. Her mind is a torrent of truths both relevant and irrelevant. She struggles to organize the information hierarchically, not understanding the witch’s motivations well enough to decide what to prioritize and therefore not knowing where to begin.

Moreover, the previous mistake addressing her as “girl” continues to distract, the memory of its words knotting in a hideous tangle of social dynamics and threads of selfhood that the Resinate has little interest in unraveling.

It taps its claws together in thought. Most of Fig Wasp’s mind is pleasingly regular, the effects of repetitive conditioning wearing tidy trails in her mind almost to the level of base instinct, but all her training is centered around her symbiosis and her god in order to make her well suited to her niche. The Resinate might simply tidy up the rest of it, yes? Tastefully trim the most inconvenient growths of selfhood and those social connections with the rest of her species, leaving only the fresh, lively bond with her new identity as Fig Wasp and with her new Handler and with this Old Forest.

Fig Wasp speaks at last, but her words are halting and disorganized, and the witch silences her with another gesture. How satisfying that she obeys without hesitation! Yes, it needs to craft new keys with which to open the girl’s mind for pruning, but some things, it decides, can remain.

It must craft one key for the heart, the center of connection. One at the base of the skull, where thought meets feeling. One at the spine, where mind blooms into action. One at the forehead, the door between self and other. A key for each season of the year, for each beat of the heartsong, for each limb of the beast, for each eye of the world.

The work takes time, as it always does, but the girl’s anxiety calms when the witch declares its intent to make her a better instrument. She even offers her help, though she could not possibly understand the process. Well, Fig Wasp could possibly help in severing her own limbs, mangled and knotted as they are with the wreckage of her other half, but aside from the practical concerns about the girl’s ability to finish that task, the Resinate’s pride demands it handle the remainder of its dissection and extraction itself.

Fig Wasp is well trained, embracing the pain of change—both the lesser pain of the amputations and the greater agonies of the keys—her mind alight with hope that she might be honed and corrected.

Better. Oh so much better. At last she is capable of stilling her mind and body until they are called upon to assist her witch. She possesses within her a memorized litany of “specs” and “regulations” and more, the arcane words she recites filling page after page of the Resinate’s grimoire. The witch’s detailed dissection notes transform into carefully annotated diagrams with references to particular chapters and verses of the canon. At last, true understanding begins to take shape.

“Your symbiosis is your strength,” the witch observes, graciously naming the obvious so that its new pet might follow this train of thought. “A union of the grown and the constructed. By ritual you are clumsily shaped to better suit that which was constructed to fit a generic form.” The Resinate taps its claws in thought. “I can do better, but I must not alter the fundamental essence of the union.”

Fig Wasp stands in silence, content to know that—whatever her fate—she will have a role to play in the Resinate’s plans. New arms grown of living wood refresh a half-empty teacup on her witch’s desk.

“Only four limbs? No. Your symbiosis could be more complete.” The Resinate sketches vague organic shapes on paper. “I could grow your roots directly into your other half, let you entwine yourself deeply inside in lieu of rebuilding such things as ‘pedals’ for ‘feet’ and similar such pairings: a more permanent symbiosis.”

The threads of the girl’s mind light up with connections, as they always do when the topic of her symbiosis is addressed, providing the witch with a helpful reminder.

“No, of course. That contradicts the Book of Pilot, Chapter Eighty, Verse Three. You are meant to assist in the care and grooming of your symbiont, for which you must regularly exit your integrated state.”

With a slash of the pen, the first sketches are discarded, and new ideas emerge to take their place.

“If not the mandrake, the undine might suit as inspiration. A thing of different forms, you might flow as water, become as blood in the other’s veins, only… ah, I would have to alter its construction far too much for my liking.

“Though of water, there is also the selkie, who sheds one form for another as suits her whim. Not precisely what I need, but the details may be altered for my purposes.”

Lines of ink dance across the page, rough sketches evolving into increasingly specific forms.

“My hybrid alraune, whose roots will know the insides of her symbiont with perfect intimacy, who can shed that skin and emerge from blooming flower to serve multifarious needs. Yes, and with hands to assist me in healing your symbiont’s body.” The witch of the Old Forest turns to its pet project. “You will enjoy your new body.”

The pet project recognizes an implicit invitation for a response. “Yes, Handler. I will.” She cannot resist squirming just a bit, despite her discipline, as sleeping elements of her personality recognize an opportunity and begin to awaken.

Despite its own contempt for man, the Resinate finds itself endeared to this one—perhaps because it has already begun thinking of her as what she will become—and it chooses words it knows the girl aches to hear.

“You have a new mission, Fig Wasp. Procure target ingredients from the forest and escort them safely to the rendezvous point—this house—so that I may poison what remains of your humanity and fertilize what must grow in its place. Precise mission objectives will be delivered, ah, momentarily once I write them down.”

“Acknowledged. Search and delivery run. Standing by for transmission of target data.” The girl’s eyelids flutter, her eyes rolling back slightly as her mind lights up with pleasure at performing this ritual.

After receiving her list, she takes off at a dead sprint. Well, whatever her enthusiasm, it will take quite some time to find the necessary botanicals. Some of those herbs have grown rather clever lately, and outwitting them should prove a challenge.

This gives the Resinate time to begin reading the language comprising the mind of the titan. It is complex, many-layered, simultaneously fragmented and impossibly tangled in itself. The Book of Ay Eye, which holds dominion over this creature’s brain, barely scratches the surface of the complexity the witch finds here.

Without possessing authority over language itself, this would be impossible. As it stands, the task is merely extraordinarily difficult. The injuries sustained here require agonizingly precise rewriting of the most minute sigils the witch of the Old Forest has ever seen. Moreover, the better-protected organs of the mind will require still more careful rewriting, like a book that needs its central themes inverted without changing the word count of any given paragraph.

Now here is a thrill to exceed even the girl’s enthusiasm for her little rituals! This could take a century or more of dedicated study to fully unravel, delving into wholly unexplored corners of man’s lore. Ah, to take a new kind of mind and learn to garden it, help it blossom in harmony with the rest of the forest—at last the Resinate finds a challenge worthy of the heights of its power!

Yet… how unfortunate that the Old Forest needs results on man’s schedule. Nothing for it but to divert the flow of time, just a touch, just around this house, just enough to solve this puzzle. Wicked as such a spell might be, a witch is a thing that does what it must, and if it must take on the debt intrinsic to such defilement of the natural order, well, this wouldn’t be the first time.

When the Resinate’s assistant returns, it is to a house that has aged visibly. The structure sags more in some places and has become wildly overgrown in others. Her timing is a touch awkward, with the old door warped and demanding a hearty shove to force open while a new door is yet green and unready for use.

The Resinate, however, is not only prepared but eager to begin. It fills the house with a hum that vibrates through every branch and gnarl, its sense of anticipation having reached a fever pitch. With tools arrayed and cauldron bubbling, the work of excising Fig Wasp’s wretched humanity begins.

Flesh dies. A seed is planted.

---

When next the old covenant of man and wood is violated by such forgetful creatures, Wasp and Fig are fully grown and prepared to unleash appropriate retribution. Her mission: to refresh man’s memory with blood.

It is not for the forest to remember specifics of any individual clash between itself and man. The Resinate, for itself, is disinterested in such details. Many are the eyes of a witch, and not all of them are tasked with watching merely that which already has come to pass. Thus, Fig Wasp’s success is foreseen and the “how” of it dismissed as triviality.

They return home, titanic frame slipping between branches with no more than the rustling of leaves signaling the landing. A body of intricately engraved steel and stone kneels on its plinth, lowering its upper half, from which the bulb of a huge flower blooms and deposits the witch’s favorite wasp.

With delicate grace, she uncurls and arches one almost-human leg to meet the ground, followed by the other. Her body shines with the vigorous green of new spring growth, glistening with nectar like morning dew. Well, the witch has no heart to speak of, but something inside reacts to the beauty of its own creation. Appraising eyes gliding across the sight, it cannot help but recall the birds who drink greedily of such sweet nectar.

The Resinate catches itself and silences its humming, stills its claws. An excess of imagination can be both gift and curse for a witch, and it must maintain some self-control. In any event—

With a running leap, the pretty alraune collides with her witch, tangling limbs together in an embrace that shatters the Resinate’s train of thought. The witch makes a mental note to train the girl not to leap upon it when excited.

“All the humans are dead, Handler! Except for letting one retreat, just like you said.” The girl giggles, a sound no less melodious than birdsong. “She doesn’t even know she’s carrying my seeds.”

“Well done, pretty thing.” Praise summons a shiver of pleasure from dear Fig Wasp, and the witch finds itself gripping her tighter in response. “Good pilot. Good girl.”

How unexpectedly enjoyable to reward its creation, feeling her whole body quiver with each kind word while her sweet aroma saturates the air. Ah, imagination takes flight once again, and the Resinate decides to expand its notion of just how much “handling” it might justify engaging in.

[probablyasocialecologist]

A team of researchers at ETH Zurich in Switzerland has made a discovery that they say could turn recycling e-waste into a literal goldmine. The researchers devised a novel way to extract precious metal from electronic waste, a sustainable method that is based on a byproduct from the food industry. And it's pretty lucrative as well. For each dollar spent, the team suggests you could make $50 worth of gold. Best of all, they say, it's an incredibly environmentally friendly process. The team found that protein fibril sponges, made from protein-rich byproducts from cheesemaking, can be used to extract the gold from discarded e-waste.

[...]

According to the World Health Organization, e-waste is the fastest-growing solid waste stream in the world, with millions of electrical devices being discarded and thrown away. Without being recycled properly, this waste is not only incredibly harmful to the environment, but it can also be toxic to humans.

[mysticstronomy]

DOES THE MOON HAVE OXYGEN??

Blog#398

Saturday, May 4th, 2024.

Welcome back,

The Conversation report, published on November 10, 2021, said there is plenty of oxygen on the Moon, which is the Earth’s only natural satellite, but it is not in gaseous form.

A study has claimed that the Moon’s top layer alone has enough oxygen to sustain as many as eight billion people for 100,000 years.

According to a report by the Australian website The Conversation, the top layer of rocks on the Moon, called regolith, is made up of approximately 45 per cent oxygen.

The report, published on November 10, said there is plenty of oxygen on the Moon, which is the Earth’s only natural satellite, but it is not in gaseous form.

"Although the Moon does have an atmosphere, it’s very thin and composed mostly of hydrogen, neon and argon. It’s not the sort of gaseous mixture that could sustain oxygen-dependent mammals such as humans,” it added.

In October this year, the Australian Space Agency signed a deal with NASA to send a rover to the Moon to collect lunar rocks that could provide breathable oxygen.

The Conversation report on November 10 further said that oxygen can be found in many minerals in the ground ‘around us’, adding the Moon is majorly made up of the same rocks found on planet Earth.

"Minerals such as silica, aluminium, and iron and magnesium oxides dominate the Moon’s landscape. All of these minerals contain oxygen, but not in a form our lungs can access,” it added.

The report has suggested that Electrolysis technique can be used to extract oxygen from silica, aluminium, iron and other minerals found on the Moon.

“In this case, the oxygen is produced as a byproduct. On the Moon, the oxygen would be the main product and the aluminium (or other metal) extracted would be a potentially useful byproduct,” it said.

However, for the procedure to be sustainable, it has to be supported by solar energy on any other sources of energy on the Moon. “Extracting oxygen from regolith would also require substantial industrial equipment.”

Earlier this year, a start-up from Belgium said that it was making three experimental reactors to improve the process of making oxygen through electrolysis. The Space Applications Services is planning to send such reactors to the Moon by 2025, the report said.

Originally published on www-hindustantimes-com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, May 8th, 2024)

"WHY IS PLUTO NOT A PLANET ANYMORE??"

[solarpunkbusiness]

A Cornell-led research team has developed a method for extracting gold from electronics waste, then using the recovered precious metal as a catalyst for converting carbon dioxide (CO2) into organic materials.

Zadehnazari said. “By transforming  CO2 into value-added materials, we not only reduce waste disposal demands, we also provide both environmental and practical benefits. It’s kind of a win-win for the environment.”

[materialsscienceandengineering]

From e-waste to gold: A pathway to CO₂ sustainability

A Cornell-led research team has developed a method for extracting gold from electronics waste, then using the recovered precious metal as a catalyst for converting carbon dioxide (CO2), a greenhouse gas, to organic materials. The method could provide a sustainable use for some of the approximately 50 million tons of e-waste discarded each year, only 20% of which is recycled, according to Amin Zadehnazari, a postdoctoral researcher in the lab of Alireza Abbaspourrad, the Yongkeun Joh Associate Professor of Food Chemistry and Ingredient Technology in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. Zadehnazari synthesized a pair of vinyl-linked covalent organic frameworks (VCOFs) to remove gold ions and nanoparticles from circuit boards in discarded electronic devices. One of his VCOFs was shown to selectively capture 99.9% of the gold and very little of other metals, including nickel and copper, from the devices.

Read more.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Mother Jones:

The world generates more than 68 million tons of e-waste every year, according to the UN, enough to fill a convoy of trucks stretching right around the equator. By 2030, the total is projected to reach 75 million tons.

Only 22 percent of that e-waste is collected and recycled, the UN estimates. The rest is dumped, burned, or forgotten—particularly in rich countries, where most people have no convenient way to get rid of their old Samsung Galaxy phones, Xbox controllers, and myriad other gadgets. Indeed, every year, humanity is wasting more than $60 billion worth of so-called critical metals—the ones we need not only for electronics, but also for the hardware of renewable energy, from electric vehicle (EV) batteries to wind turbines.

Millions of Americans, like me, spend their workdays on pursuits that lack any physical manifestation beyond the occasional hard-copy book or memo or report. It’s easy to forget that all these livelihoods rely on machines. And that those machines rely on metals torn from the Earth.

Consider your smartphone. Depending on the model, it can contain up to two-thirds of the elements in the periodic table, including dozens of metals. Some are familiar, like the gold and tin in its circuitry and the nickel in its microphone. Others less so: Tiny flecks of indium make the screen sensitive to the touch of a finger. Europium enhances the colors. Neodymium, dysprosium, and terbium are used to build the tiny mechanism that makes your phone vibrate.

Your phone’s battery contains cobalt, lithium, and nickel. Ditto the ones that power your rechargeable drill, Roomba, and electric toothbrush—not to mention our latest modes of transportation, ranging from plug-in scooters and e-bikes to EVs. A Tesla Model S has as much lithium as up to 10,000 smartphones.

The millions of electric cars and trucks hitting the planet’s roads every year don’t spew pollutants directly, but they’ve got a monstrous appetite for electricity, nearly two-thirds of which still comes from burning fossil fuels—about one-third from coal. Harvesting more of our energy from sunlight and wind, as crucial as that is, entails its own Faustian bargain. Capturing, transmitting, storing, and using that cleaner power requires vast numbers of new machines: wind turbines, solar panels, switching stations, power lines, and batteries large and small.

You see where this is going. Our clean energy future, this global drive to save humanity from the ever-worsening ravages of global warming, depends on critical metals. And we’ll be needing more.

In all of human history, we have extracted some 700 million tons of copper from the Earth. To meet our clean energy goals, we’ll have to mine as much again in 20-odd years. By 2050, the International Energy Agency estimates, global demand for cobalt for EVs alone will soar to five times what it was in 2022. Demand for nickel will be 10 times higher. Lithium, 15 times. “The prospect of a rapid increase in demand for critical minerals—well above anything seen previously in most cases—raises huge questions about the availability and reliability of supply,” the agency warns.

Metals are natural products, but the Earth does not relinquish them willingly. Mining conglomerates rip up forests and grasslands and deserts, blasting apart the underlying rock and soil and hauling out the remains. The ore is processed, smelted, and refined using gargantuan, energy-guzzling, pollution-spewing machines and oceans of chemicals. “Mining done wrong can leave centuries of harm,” says Aimee Boulanger, head of the Initiative for Responsible Mining Assurance, which works with companies to develop more sustainable extraction practices.

The harm is staggering. Metal mining is America’s leading toxic polluter. It has sullied the watersheds of almost half of the rivers in the American West. Chemical leaks and mining runoff foul air and water. The mines also generate mountains of hazardous waste, stored behind dams that have a terrifying tendency to fail. Torrents of poisonous sludge pouring through collapsed tailings dams have contaminated waterways in Brazil, Canada, and elsewhere and killed hundreds of people—in addition to the hundreds, possibly thousands, of miners who die in workplace accidents each year.

To get what they’re after, mining companies devour natural resources on an epic scale. They dig up some 250 tons of ore and waste rock to get just 1 ton of nickel. For copper, the ratio is double that. Just to obtain the metals inside your 4.5-ounce iPhone, 75 pounds of ore had to be pulled up, crushed, and smelted, releasing up to 100 pounds of carbon dioxide. Mining firms also suck up massive quantities of water and deploy fleets of drill rigs, trucks, diggers, and other heavy machinery that collectively belch out up to 7 percent of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions.

Metal recycling is a completely different proposition from recycling the paper and glass we toss into our home bins for pickup. It turns out that retrieving valuable raw materials sustainably from electronic products—toasters, iPhones, power cables—is a fiendishly complex endeavor, requiring many steps carried out in many places. Manufacturing those products required a multistep international supply chain. Recycling them requires a reverse supply chain almost as complicated.

Part of the problem is that our devices typically contain only a small amount of any given metal. In developing countries, though, there are lots of people willing to put in the time and effort required to recover that little bit of value—an estimated tens of thousands of e-waste scavengers in Nigeria alone. Some go door to door with pushcarts, offering to take or even buy unwanted electronics. Others, like Anwar, work the secondhand markets, buying bits of broken gear from small businesses or rescuing them from the trash. Many scavengers earn less than the international poverty wage of about $2.15 per day.

[along-the-silkroad]

Ptolemaic economic policy 

Maintaining the Ptolemaic regime was an expensive endeavor. Enormous funds were required to sustain the Ptolemies' luxurious lifestyle in their palace at Alexandria and to pay the wages of their large army, which protected Egypt and its dependencies. The drive to maximize state income became one of the defining features of the Ptolemaic empire, and various papyrus finds across Egypt provide valuable insights into this aspect of their administration. Since the reign of Ptolemy I Soter, the kings regarded the entirety of Egypt as their personal property. The majority of the land was leased to locals, while the rest was directly exploited as "crown land." Evidence suggests that the kings even considered the lands of the powerful temples as their own and sought ways to extract significant resources from them. However, by the 2nd century BCE, as Ptolemaic power waned, local temple complexes regained much of their lost influence. Additionally, various forms of taxation were introduced to further enrich the monarchy.

The Ptolemaic monarchs viewed the economy in a mercantile manner, believing that the state’s wealth was directly tied to the amount of precious metals circulating within the country. To maximize the gold present in their kingdom, the rulers tightly controlled the economy and trade. 

They were supported by an elaborate bureaucracy headed by the dioiketes, the financial minister, who resided in the capital, Alexandria. Valuable insights into the operations and responsibilities of this government official come from the archive of Zenon, an agent of Apollonios, the dioiketes of Ptolemy II (r. 284–246 BCE).

The dioiketes was supported by various oikonomoi, who were responsible for collecting taxes and rents from the population. Interestingly, one of their tasks was to improve relations with peasants, who often fled their farms due to mounting taxation pressures. The oikonomoi employed various methods to ensure that no potential source of revenue escaped the state’s coffers. For instance, during the Nile floods, they counted farmers’ livestock, which had gathered on higher ground to escape the rising waters. This made it easier to account for the animals. The oikonomoi had an entire army of minor officials at their disposal, most of whom were Egyptians. These officials, who spoke Egyptian, were tasked with communicating and enforcing the government’s directives among the local population. Olivier Goossens

[callmemonster68]

JUNGWON - The Mark of Sin

Synopsis: In a remote corner of the universe lies the planet Abyssia, inhabited by demons of extraordinary beauty whose immortality depends on vital energy extracted from intense orgasms. Y/N, a mesmerizing demoness, longs for more authentic experiences and decides to leave her world of lust to explore Earth. Disguised, she becomes a neighbor to Jungwon, an innocent young man who fascinates her with his purity. As Y/N seduces him and transforms him into an obedient lover, they become entangled in a dance of dominance and submission, where pleasure and pain intertwine...

Pairing: Innocent Virgin Jungwon x FemReader - Demoness

Genre: Obscenity / Suggestive

Warnings: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive themes, penetration, explicit language, climax, sexual acts, profanity, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, praise, rough sex, mentions of bruising, handcuffs, chains, BDSM, masochism, marks.

Setting:Abyssia is described as a planet where demons dwell in hidden realms, submerged in darkness and profound desires. A world filled with glowing caverns, black seas, and an atmosphere charged with erotic and chaotic energy, reflecting the essence of the intense and dark emotions that dominate its inhabitants.

Note:I'm just starting out as a writer, and English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes and hope to improve over time. Feedback is always welcome!

In a distant corner of the universe lies a planet known as Abyssia, home to demons of extraordinary beauty and supernatural powers. In this exotic world, immortality is guaranteed by one peculiar necessity: the vital energy extracted from intense, overwhelming orgasms. This energy sustains Abyssia's inhabitants, yet ensnares them in a cycle of lust and domination.

Among Abyssia’s denizens was Y/N, a demoness of hypnotizing allure. Her long, black hair shimmered with pink streaks that pulsed with energy whenever she used her powers. Her oriental eyes bore a mesmerizing heterochromia: one as deep as the ocean, the other as gray as an impending storm. Her skin was adorned with a peculiar tattoo, a constellation-like design that seemed alive, shifting with her emotions and powers as if it were an extension of her very soul.

Though she was among the most desired beings of her realm, Y/N felt unsatisfied. The energy exchanged among her kind was intense but predictable, like a dance where every step was known before it happened. Craving something raw and visceral, she decided to leave Abyssia in pursuit of new experiences.

Her destination? Earth.

Upon arrival, disguised to blend in, Y/N roamed the streets of a small town, captivated by the unfiltered emotions of humans. It was there she saw Jungwon—a young man with tousled hair and eyes that radiated a provocative purity. He was a stark contrast to the predators of her world, and his innocence intrigued her.

Determined to possess him entirely, Y/N used her powers to become his neighbor, silently observing him. Her presence exuded a magnetism that Jungwon couldn’t ignore, even if he didn’t understand it. Gradually, she introduced herself, weaving a web of seduction and desire around him. Jungwon, naturally timid, was both hesitant and irresistibly drawn to her fiery aura.

As she led him down a path of forbidden explorations, Jungwon discovered pleasures he had never imagined. Y/N left her mark on him, physically and emotionally, transforming him from an innocent youth into a fervent lover. Yet her seduction was intense and unrelenting; she desired him entirely and tested his boundaries without hesitation.

In the dim candlelight of her room one fateful night, Y/N took things to a new level. She conjured chains and cuffs of gleaming black metal, cold as ice, binding Jungwon to the bed. The tension in the air was palpable.

Y/N: (with an intense gaze, her voice both a promise and a threat) “You’re mine now. And I will explore every inch of you. Don’t be afraid to surrender. Let go.”

Jungwon: (a mix of fear and desire, breathing unevenly) “I trust you, Y/N. Do what you will. I’m ready to discover.”

Y/N: (whispering as her fingers glide over his body) “You don’t know how much this excites me. Every sound you make is music to me. Let’s lose ourselves until we can no longer tell pain from pleasure. I’ll guide you through this journey.”

Releasing her powers, Y/N transformed the very atmosphere around them into a manifestation of her desires: walls trembling, lights flickering, and even the air growing warmer. Jungwon, though frightened, felt irresistibly drawn in, diving deeper into the intoxicating sensations.

Y/N explored every inch of his body, alternating between soft caresses and firm touches, observing his reactions to each new sensation. The sound of shifting chains accompanied Jungwon’s moans as he surrendered completely. S/N, with a predatory smile, pushed the boundaries of pleasure and pain, creating an intoxicating balance that left them in a state of near-supernatural ecstasy.

At the same time, Y/N felt something unexpected—a purity in Jungwon that, instead of simply satisfying her hunger, seemed to intensify it. For the first time, she didn’t just crave his energy; she wanted to understand him, consume him, and protect him all at once. It made her feel vulnerable—a sensation she had never known.

But danger loomed. Y/N knew her presence on Earth would not go unnoticed by others of her kind. They wouldn’t accept her bond with a human, much less her decision to stay with him. Facing threats from her own people, she also had to confront the growing complexity of her feelings for Jungwon.

After an intense exchange of sensations, S/N looked at Jungwon, now more confident.

Y/N: (with a tender gaze) “You’ve changed, Jungwon. The purity I saw in you now burns with a new intensity. I want to protect it.”

Jungwon: (smiling, still breathless) “And I want to discover more about you—not just the demoness who claims me but the S/N who cares for me.”

Y/N: (with a soft smile) “Then let’s face this together. But remember, what we have is dangerous. I can’t promise the others from Abyssia will leave us in peace.”

─────── Time Skip ───────

Y/N looked into Jungwon's eyes, her heart pounding with an intensity she could barely contain.

Y/N: (gently extending her hand) "I want you to know that you’re mine, in a way that goes beyond what we can see."

As she touched his arm, a soft light emanated, leaving behind a shimmering trace that seemed to dance between them.

Jungwon: (shivering as a chill ran down his spine) "What was that?"

Y/N: (with an enigmatic smile) "It’s my magic. Now, you’ll always feel my presence, even when we’re apart."

Jungwon: (smiling, feeling a deep connection) "So, I’m marked forever?"

Y/N: (nodding) "Forever."

Now, Y/N and Jungwon’s fates are intertwined in a story of unbridled desire, corruption, and a passion that defies both human and divine laws. How far are they willing to go to stay together? And how might this forbidden union transform not only their lives but also the destinies of two worlds?

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Master Chief & more about Spartans

Born and raised on Eridanus-II, John Downes was the son of bioengineers and gardeners, who wanted to genetically modify Earth-plants to be sustainable on other planets (everyone, up until this point, had just been using the indigenous plants from the alien worlds they colonized); up until he was taken into the Spartan Program, John attended a school known as "The Reach For Life Foundation," a prestigious upper-class school (that was created on Reach before expanding out to the rest of the galaxy) designed to turn all of it's students into the next generation of pioneers, colonizers and explorers who will bring life into the uncharted reaches of space. Humanity came in contact with The Covenant in the year 2511. The Spartan Program saw production in 2517; most of the Spartans were born in the year 2528, while John Downes was born in the year 2530. That two year gap may as well have been a chasm between him and his brothers-&-sisters-in-arms. But, like in canon, the main reason why John was chosen despite being everyone's junior was because he still exhibited the exact same unique genetic-markers that all of the others do. With John being the youngest, he's needed to prove himself to the others by working and training thrice as hard as everyone else; his angst comes from the fact that, because he's the youngest, he's the most generic one of the group. He's not the fastest (that's Kelly), not the strongest (that's Samuel), not the biggest (that's Jorge), the best combatant (Fred), the best at weaponry (Vannak), the best at demolitions (James), the best shot (both Linda & Kai, who are rivals to each other, beat John out), the smartest (Riz), the best pilot (Daisy), the best at technology (Joshua), the one with the best intuition (Kurt), or the most charismatic leader (Jerome); he's only really impressive in comparison to the standard marine, this angst he faces is something he later comes to accept as he gets older. He eventually embraces his status as 'The Generic One' and becomes the Jack-of-all-trades, the one everyone can lean on for just about anything; the "Swiss-Army Spartan," if you will. They all got augmented, and the rest is history; but it wasn't until Operation SILENT STORM, the Spartans' FIRST mission as Spartans, where John was given the rank of "Master Chief Petty Officer," the highest rank a non-commissioned serviceman in the Navy can attain; he even got his first metal, "The Purple Heart," after he got shot on the line of duty (and survived, obviously). When he was a kid, before being inducted, John had discovered an ancient Forerunner rock (not that anyone knew what it was) that had almost possessed him; his obssession over it resulted in his father forcing John to bury the drawings he made of it in the backyard. The training and conditioning of the Spartan Progran, while not designed to brainwash anyone, did result in John repressing any memory of the rock. In the present (2552), John had discovered a similar rock during an extraction mission on Biko, which brought a terrifying wave of memories back to him; this drives him to rediscover the rock he found as a kid back on Eridanus-II, in cave beneath the abandoned ruins of his father's old Solar-Paneled Garden Field. After some back and forth battles between The UNSC and The Covenant, John is quick to deduce that the rock he found on Biko is a keystone to the artifact that he found as a kid; with two rocks joined together, they create a starmap that leads to the one thing The Covenant had been after this entire time: Halo.

Spartans are much younger here than in canon, being in their early 20s as opposed to being in their 50s like in the show and the games. Their youth, combined with their less traumatizing upbringing, makes them more colorful in their personalities (still professional and their canon personalities are about the same, but they're less sociopathically brusque and terse like in-canon). Super-Soldiers in media are usually portrayed with two major qualities: Extreme Aggression and Complete Obedience. They're designed to be ruthless killers, desensitized to violence, who are more aggressive than the average soldier, as they are more than willing to make the hard-choices and will not stop until their opponents are dead ("They [Spartans] just... keep killing. Until there's nothing. Left. To kill... You in or out?" - Angus; Halo, Season 1 - Episode 1) and the battle is won. As for complete obedience? Well, that's self-explanatory; they are happiest when given an order and only do what's asked of them ("Good soldiers follow orders." - Crosshairs; The Bad-Batch). The Spartans as seen in Halo Reloaded are the opposite. They're trained in: Lateral Thinking, Improvisation and Freestyling. They're very creative, on and off the field, people who are capable of salvaging a busted plan and thinking on their feet in the midst of high-stress situations; which is precisely why they're so good at their jobs, BECAUSE they're not dependant on the word of their superiors. They're less an army of Robocops and moreso an army of Captain Americas. John himself, particularly in his later years at 22, is a more "Commander Shepard' type of person: Swashbuckling, noble, still emotionally guarded but far less traumatized, charismatic (again not as much as Jerome) and often goes with the flow. He's still much more brusque and aggressive in comparison to the other more lively Spartans (the others often call him "the mean one"), but he's still as nice and compassionate as he's always been.

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[weministertomonsters]

𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡

The healing power of a vampire lies not in their blood, but their teeth. The extraction shop is brightly lit to combat the night outside, and it smells of old blood and a strange, musty smell that comes from the tiny jars filled with single fangs behind the counter. Those jars go for crazy prices, as you can see from their labels.

The young shopkeeper leans on the counter and frowns as you track mud on the floor as you step in. His hazel eyes flick up to meet yours, a little disdainful. You wince at the full assault of his handsome face.

"Sorry for the mess," you say, your countryside accent comes in strong. "I came straight from the night market."

"Yes, yes," the shopkeeper grunts, returning to carefully polishing empty glass jars. "What can I help you with?"

"My mother is terribly ill, and the doctor said nothing more can be done for her. I'm here as a last resort," you announce, keeping your chin high even as he stares at you doubtfully.

"Miss, you don't look like you have a penny to your name," he says, running a hand through his sleek, short black hair. "I wish I could offer help to everyone who needs it, but I have a business to run."

"Oh, I'm not asking for charity!" You tell him with a small, embarrassed laugh. "Isn't there any other way I can pay?"

"Unfortunately not," he replies crisply. "I can run this store perfectly on my own."

"You misunderstand me. Again." You decide to stop beating around the bush and take your chance with the truth.

You push up your sleeve slightly, turning your arm so your wrist is facing upwards. No other words need to be said. The shopkeeper licks his bottom lip and glances warily at the door of the shop.

"Did anyone see you come in?" He asks.

"No. I am discreet about it," you say firmly. "Please? For the price of just one fang."

He drums his fingertips nervously on the counter.

"Fine," he says. "You know how much to give?"

"I know my limits, yes. I assure you I can walk out of here without a twitch in my step. If I go against my word, you are free to throw me out onto the street."

"Very well. Do be careful, he may be weak, but he is cunning," the shopkeeper says. "Go now, before someone comes in. If there is someone here when you come back, act as if you are under my employ."

"Understood."

He lets you step behind the counter and through the back door, which leads down into the basement which is almost entirely dark, save for a single candle that is about to gutter out.

The shop above may look clean and sparkly with its jars of polished white fangs, but the setup below is paltry. There are enough cells to hold three vampires if the shopkeeper were to be so lucky. As it is, there is only one bloodsucker huddled in the far corner of the cell. The metal door is ajar but even if the vampire wasn't chained, he would not have had the strength to walk out by this point.

Giving vampires blood from the vein is illegal, and that is why extraction shops had to find other means of feeding them, usually with blood from cows. Vampires need more substantial fare than that, so no amount of cow's blood could sustain them for long. They withered and faded into nothing soon enough, dying off eventually.

You're not sure if this one is alive, and considering that vampires do not need to breathe, he has turned into a statue of sorts.

"Hello," you say, and adjust your volume when you hear your voice echo back at you.

"I have no fangs to give," a dry voice mumbles from between the vampire's knees. "They have not finished growing back."

"I'm not here to extract any," you murmur and step warily into the cage. "Can you bite me if you try?"

"No," the vampire replies, lifting his head to see who he is talking to.

His eyes take you in and he frowns.

"You're no extractor."

"Like I said," you huff. "I told the shopkeeper I would give you blood from my vein in exchange for a fang."

The vampire's eyes flood with red when he hears this, and he makes a keening sound in his throat.

"Come then," he demands, crawling towards you, his chain rattling after him. "Feed me."

You back away strategically. When the chain goes taut and you are out of his reach, he grows frustrated, grabbing the empty metal bowl he is fed with and flinging it at you.

"Do not lie to me!" He hisses. "Worthless human brat!"

The ruckus brings the shopkeeper down.

"What in god's name are you doing to him?" He demands as he descends the stairs. "You promised discretion!"

He enters the room, but you're nowhere in his sight and the vampire is raging in the cell, screeching and hissing curses as he pulls at his matted hair in wild hunger.

You emerge from the shadows with the hefty stick you had tied to your leg and concealed under your dress before you came to the shop. You swing it at the shopkeeper as hard as you can, just as he is turning to you. It connects with his face with a sickening crack, and he slumps to the floor, stunned.

"I will be needing more than one fang to keep my mother alive," you whisper, leaning over him. "This is the only way I can do that. Forgive me."

You hit him again on the head, and he groans and his eyes flicker shut. You lean over him to make sure he's still breathing, your heartbeat racing from exertion and from being so close to him. He smells nice-such a pity.

You straighten up and go to the vampire, who bares his blunt teeth at you. His fangs are barely peeking through his gums and are useless.

"You liar," he growls.

"Not quite," you say, and go to him, pressing a blade to your palm until the blood wells up steadily.

Despite his weak state, his grip is surprisingly strong as he snatches your hand up, forcing you onto your knees on the floor with him. He presses his lips to the source of the blood, groaning. He has lost the healing agent in his saliva, but you can still feel the slightest itchy tingle of your flesh trying to heal. You flex your hand to keep it open, counting the seconds down until you deem he has had enough to sustain him without making him stronger than you. Then you tear your hand away.

He tries to grab your arm, but you slap him across the face and stand up, putting some space between the two of you.

"That's enough!" You snap. "Unless you obey my instructions, I will leave you chained here to continue your miserable existence."

"Please," the vampire says, wiping the blood from his chin and then licking it off his fingers. "I'll do whatever you say, just take me from this place."

"We will have to sneak out the back door," you tell him. "And you will have to stick very close to me. Try anything funny, and I will use my stick on you. See this sharpened end? I will not hesitate to plunge it into your chest if you behave wildly."

The vampire blinks up at you.

"Very well, human," he rasps, possessing none of the charms a free vampire would. "I will do as you say."

He brings himself to his feet and comes to stand more than a head above you. Your only savior is his weakened state, otherwise, he could easily have you, and both of you know this.

You go back to the yet-unconscious shopkeeper to pat around for the keys to unlock the shackles on the vampire. There is a chance that as soon as he is loose he will take the risk of fleeing by himself. You make eye contact with him as the key turns in the lock of the first handcuff, and the second. You crouch down remove the shackles from his ankles and pause. He is now completely free.

The evening wind blows in through the tiny window in the corner and the shopkeeper groans as he begins to come to, but the vampire stays with you.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 13: "You weren't supposed to get hurt,

The first thing Whumpee saw upon being reactivated was Caretaker’s face standing over them. They looked tired, deep shadows resting under red eyes. A quick check of their internal clock told Whumpee that it was late into the night.

And yet Caretaker was smiling.

“Oh thank god–,” A relieved giggle burst from their lips, a hand reaching to grab one of Whumpee’s. “You’re okay! Thank god, I was so worried…”

Whumpee’s eyes scanned the room, system slow to respond. They were in Caretaker’s lab, body laid flat on top of a metal table. They could see various pieces of themselves scattered around, twisted and ruined metal plating tossed aside, damaged limbs in the process of being replaced.

Error warning flashed across their vision, making them aware of the various forms of damage they’d sustained. They did not recall being damaged.

They took a moment to look through their memory. There had been an attack on the base. As a safety and recovery unit, Whumpee fulfilled their duty by extracting non-combatant staff to a safer location.

They’d been found on the way. Whumpee remembered a mask figure shouting at them to freeze, lifting their weapon before anyone could comply. They remembered the weapon aiming for Caretaker–

Whumpee forced their error messages away, wincing at the unpleasant sensation. They ignored the discomfort and launched their scan protocol. Caretaker froze on instinct as the warm green light emitted from Whumpee’s eyes and ran across their body, searching for injury. Bruised skin, wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, were hidden underneath Caretaker’s oil stained shirt. Two of their ribs appeared on their scan, highlighting them as cracked.

They’d been hurt. Whumpee was supposed to protect them. “You were not supposed to be injured. I apologize.”

“Whumpee, it’s okay. I’m fine–,”

The wound seemed to already be tended to, but that was not enough. They were injured, they should be resting in the medical bay.

Whumpee moved to transport Caretaker to the medics. Or, they tried. Their system was still running slowly, still readjusting to their limited functionality. And so they didn’t realize their legs had not been fully reconnected until they’d tipped off the table.

“Hey hey hey, slow down!" Caretaker caught them, body trembling with effort. “I just needed to make sure your AI was undamaged; I haven’t fully repaired you yet,” With a strained hiss, Caretaker pulled Whumpee back onto the table. Whumpee did their best to assist, uncoordinated limbs pushing themselves back into place.

When Caretaker let go, they were panting, one hand moved to carefully hold their ribs.

Whumpee’s protocol screamed for them to act. “You should be resting. You are injured.”

“Whumpee,” Caretaker huffed, “I’m fine. Your legs are currently half attached to your body.”

“You have two broken ribs. I do not consider that ‘fine’, Whumpee countered. “Further, I could have waited until after your recovery. My damage was not enough to put my system in jeopardy, and leaving me deactivated would have done no harm.”

“Your chest was torn open. I wasn’t just going to leave you like that while I waited for a few injuries to heal!” Caretaker hissed, turning away. The gingerly sat themselves down at their computer table, the slightest sigh of relief leaving them. They focused their attention on the screen.“Now hold still, I need to run some tests.”

Whumpee did as commanded, body locking. “I would have been fine. I am not human, despite my appearance. An injury such as that is not fatal for me. You should have begun repairing me after you recovered.”

Caretaker didn’t respond. They began entering commands into the module, brow furrowed with an expression Whumpee was unable to decipher. As they worked, Whumpee could feel the tests running through their system, warning signs fading one by one.

They fell into a peaceful silence, the only noise the gentle clicking of Caretaker’s typing. After several long minutes, the clicking stopped. Caretaker paused, staring at the screen, expression contemplative.

“You saved my life, you know,” Caretaker suddenly spoke. “When they turned their weapons on me, I froze. I would’ve died if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Yes.” Of course they had. It was their duty.

“You put yourself on the line for me. You could’ve died doing that. How could I leave you carved open, collecting dust while I sat around waiting to recover?”

“I did not nearly die, I simply sustained too much damage to be functional. Waiting to repair me would have done no harm.”

For a moment, Caretaker looked prepared to argue. But then they sighed, shoulders slumping, a hand coming to run through unwashed hair.

They turned to face Whumpee. Distress was written on their face, brows knitted. Whumpee longed to comfort them, but did not know how.

When Caretaker next spoke, their voice was slow, words chosen carefully. “I’m not here because fixing you now is the smartest thing to do. I’m here because I care about you, and seeing you injured hurts me.”

Whumpee flinched at their words, immediately beginning to run a new scan on Caretaker to find any new injuries. Without looking away, Caretaker pressed a button on the module and canceled their scan. “Emotionally, Whumpee,” they clarified. “It upsets me to see you hurt.”

Whumpee paused, considering. They knew they were limited in emotional reactions. It wasn’t beyond inorganic life, but it was something they had to learn, not a skill that could be programmed into them.

It wasn’t logical, but Whumpee knew better than to dismiss Caretaker’s words simply because of that.

They recalled how it felt, saving Caretaker. The programming that caused them to move without regard for their own safety. The blaring warning signs that flashed through their vision, the sight of their body tearing apart, crumbling. They remember feeling themselves fall apart, and only feeling joy knowing they’d protected Caretaker.

If they hadn’t shut down after that, wouldn’t they have used their damaged and struggling body to tend to Caretaker’s wounds? Is that what Caretaker felt now?

The situation was not the same. Whumpee was designed to protect Caretaker, not the other way around. A human should never hurt themselves for an inorganic.

Caretaker’s distress was illogical, but Whumpee would not say as much. They knew that continuing to argue would only upset Caretaker further. And that outcome was…unacceptable.

(nothing in their programming stipulated Caretaker’s emotional well-being as a priority. It was just something Whumpee knew-)

“I understand,” Whumpee said. They weren’t quite sure if that was true. But the smile that came to Caretaker’s face, twinged with exhaustion and yet full of relief, made that uncertainty feel unimportant.

[reasoningdaily]

Children still mining cobalt for gadget batteries in Congo

A CBS News investigation of child labor in cobalt mines in the Democratic Republic of Congo has revealed that tens of thousands of children are growing up without a childhood today – two years after a damning Amnesty report about human rights abuses in the cobalt trade was published. The Amnesty report first revealed that cobalt mined by children was ending up in products from prominent tech companies including Apple, Microsoft, Tesla and Samsung. 

There's such sensitivity around cobalt mining in the DRC that a CBS News team traveling there recently was stopped every few hundred feet while moving along dirt roads and seeing children digging for cobalt. From as young as 4 years old, children can pick cobalt out of a pile, and even those too young to work spend much of the day breathing in toxic fumes.

What's life like for kids mining cobalt for our gadgets?

So, what exactly is cobalt, and what are the health risks for those who work in the DRC's cobalt mining industry?

What is cobalt?

Cobalt – a naturally occurring element –  is a critical component in lithium-ion, rechargeable batteries. In recent years, the growing global market for portable electronic devices and rechargeable batteries has fueled demand for its extraction, Amnesty said in its 2016 report. In fact, many top electronic and electric vehicle companies need cobalt to help power their products.

The element is found in other products as well.

"Cobalt-containing products include corrosion and heat-resistant alloys, hard metal (cobalt-tungsten-carbide alloy), magnets, grinding and cutting tools, pigments, paints, colored glass, surgical implants, catalysts, batteries, and cobalt-coated metal (from electroplating)," says the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

More than half of the world's supply of cobalt comes from the DRC, and 20 percent of that is mined by hand, according to Darton Commodities Ltd., a London-based research company that specializes in cobalt.  

Health risks of chronic exposure 

According to the CDC, "chronic exposure to cobalt-containing hard metal (dust or fume) can result in a serious lung disease called 'hard metal lung disease'" – a kind of pneumoconiosis, meaning a lung disease caused by inhaling dust particles. Inhalation of cobalt particles can cause respiratory sensitization, asthma, decreased pulmonary function and shortness of breath, the CDC says.

The health agency says skin contact is also a significant health concern "because dermal exposures to hard metal and cobalt salts can result in significant systemic uptake." 

"Sustained exposures can cause skin sensitization, which may result in eruptions of contact dermatitis," a red, itchy skin rash, the CDC says.

Despite the health risks, researchers with Amnesty International found that most cobalt miners in Congo lack basic protective equipment like face masks, work clothing and gloves. Many of the miners the organization spoke with for its 2016 report – 90 people in total who work, or worked, in the mines – complained of frequent coughing or lung problems. Cobalt mining's dangerous impact on workers and the environment

Some women complained about the physical nature of the work, with one describing hauling 110-pound sacks of cobalt ore. "We all have problems with our lungs, and pain all over our bodies," the woman said, according to Amnesty.

Moreover, miners said unsupported mining tunnels frequently give way, and that accidents are common.  

Miners know their work is dangerous, Todd C. Frankel wrote late last month in The Washington Post. 

"But what's less understood are the environmental health risks posed by the extensive mining," he reported. "Southern Congo holds not only vast deposits of cobalt and copper but also uranium. Scientists have recorded alarming radioactivity levels in some mining regions. Mining waste often pollutes rivers and drinking water. The dust from the pulverized rock is known to cause breathing problems. The mining industry's toxic fallout is only now being studied by researchers, mostly in Lubumbashi, the country's mining capital."

"These job are really desired"

Despite the dangers and risks of working as miners in the cobalt industry, at least of the some miners in the Congo "love their jobs," according to Frankel.

"When I talked to the miners there, none of them want to lose their jobs or give up their jobs. They love their jobs," Frankel said Tuesday, speaking on CBSN. "In a country like Congo, mining is one of the few decently paying jobs to be had there, and so they want to hold onto these jobs."

They also want fair treatment, decent pay, and some safety, "and they would love for their kids to not work in the mines," he said.

"It's a poverty problem," Frankel said. "These parents I talked to – they don't want their kids working in these mines. The problem is that their school fees – schools cost money, and you know, food costs money, and they sort of need their kids to work in there."

Poverty also drives children into the mines instead of school – an estimated 40,000 of them work in brutal conditions starting at very young ages.

The thousands of miners who work in tunnels searching for cobalt in the country "do it because they live in one of the poorest countries in the world, and cobalt is valuable," Frankel wrote in the Washington Post article.

"Not doing enough" 

CBS News spoke with some of the companies that use cobalt in their lithium-ion batteries. All of the companies acknowledged problems with the supply chain, but said they require suppliers to follow responsible sourcing guidelines. Apple, an industry leader in the fight for responsible sourcing, said walking away from the DRC "would do nothing to improve conditions for the people or the environment."

Read company responses here

Amnesty said in November, however, that "major electronics and electric vehicle companies are still not doing enough to stop human rights abuses entering their cobalt supply chains." 

"As demand for rechargeable batteries grows, companies have a responsibility to prove that they are not profiting from the misery of miners working in terrible conditions in the DRC," the organization said. "The energy solutions of the future must not be built on human rights abuses."

An estimated two-thirds of children in the region of the DRC that CBS News visited recently are not in school. They're working in mines instead. 

CBS News' Debora Patta spoke with an 11-year-old boy, Ziki Swaze, who has no idea how to read or write but is an expert in washing cobalt. Every evening, he returns home with a dollar or two to provide for his family.

"I have to go and work there," he told Patta, "because my grandma has a bad leg and she can't."

He said he dreams of going to school, but has always had to work instead.

"I feel very bad because I can see my friends going to school, and I am struggling," he said.

Amnesty says "it is widely recognized internationally that the involvement of children in mining constitutes one of the worst forms of child labour, which governments are required to prohibit and eliminate."