#vintage computer federation

[commodorez]

A few photos from the Vintage Computer Federation's summer swap meet in Wall, NJ, June 22, 2024.

[atariaction]

Kay’s 2023 Wrapped

Well, that about wraps it up for 2023, which means it’s time for my letter summarizing the computer history work that I did in the past year. I’ve been writing these letters since 2016, making this my eighth annual letter. I wish I had started this tradition in 1996, the year that my computer history efforts began when I launched the Digital Antic Project, which grew into Classic Computer Magazine Archive.

My goal this year was to publish six interviews on Antic: The Atari 8-Bit Podcast. I published just one. (It was a good one, with Rodrigo Castro about Atari in Chile. Why not six? My Internet Archive work and, simply, a lack of momentum on interviews. Once the process is going, it’s going! But getting that engine re-started is hard.) My goal for 2024 is to publish 15 interviews, which I fully expect to actually do. Between us over the years, Randy Kindig and I have published 436 interview episodes on Antic. Our collective goal is to reach 500 by the end of 2025. So to keep my end of the bargain, that means I’ll publish 15 interviews in 2024.

Scanning, though! I turned all sorts of rare paper material into easily-searchable digital material at Internet Archive. I scanned a lot of Atari newsletters, including many from Hughes El Segundo Employees Association Atari Computer Enthusiasts, South Bay Atari Computer Enthusiasts, and West LA Atari Users Group.

In other scanning news — let’s talk about MicroTimes. MicroTimes was a California-focused computer magazine that was published from 1984 through 1999. It was there in the thick of it, published in the state that brought us Silicon Valley. I wrote for MicroTimes for a few years starting in 1992. So I am especially proud of this: 41 issues of MicroTimes magazinewere added to Internet Archive in 2023, bringing the collection to 62 issues. Here’s the long-story-short summary of 10 years of effort: I made this happen. I willed it to happen. More issues will be added in 2024.

I also added two more books to the collection of Russ Walter’s Secret Guide To Computers at Internet Archive. The newest additions are hard-to-find editions from 1976, about BASIC programming and computer applications.

My Scantastix project (if you don’t know what that is, here’s a short article describing it) did some great work: we scanned 321 items totaling 22,577 pages. The scans include some rare Microsoft material, even rarer pamphlets and manuals for Compucorp computers (have you ever heard of them? The computer that came with them is on its way to Vintage Computer Federation) and so many Apple II manuals. Check out all the latest additions here.

Also, a weird scanning side-quest happened this year: My friend Cabel Sasser handed me a pile of more than 50 DAK catalogs, which I scanned for him, then he wrote a blog post about them that blew up the Internet for a few days. It’s a fun read.

Once again, I processed and edited videos of the presentations at Vintage Computer Festival West 2023and VCF East 2023. And I helmed a project to rescue audio from VCF West 2003. These were recordings that were made of talks twenty years ago, then the tapes were lost, then found, then given to me, then it turned out that the tapes were recorded terribly. It took a small team of people to get any sound at all from those tapes then turned into something listenable. They include the voices of C. H. Ting, Jef Raskin, John Ellenby, and Gary Starkweather, who have all passed since these were recorded.

When I interview a programmer, I ask the person if they have any source code. I interviewed Jay Jaeger, creator of the Atari Program Exchange version of Space War, in 2016. At the time he said he had the source code… somewhere. I contacted him from time to time to ask about that source code. (I have a “nag list” of people that I contact from time to time to ask them about some material or other.) Patience and persistence paid off. Just a few days ago, in December 2023, he found the assembly language source code and sent it to me to share.

A bit of personal archiving: I write for Juiced.GS magazine, which focuses on the Apple II. I uploaded all of the articles I've written for Juiced to Internet Archive, spanning 2015–2022. There are some interviews, some product reviews, and some nice little reminisces about the old days of microcomputers. (I released them under a Creative Commons license, so if you want to republish an article in a non-commercial computer club newsletter or something like that, go for it. My agreement with the magazine says that they get exclusive rights to articles for a year. So my 2023 articles will be shared online a year from now. In the mean time, it’s a good magazine: if you like Apple II, subscribe!)

My work at Internet Archive as the curator of the Digital Library of Amateur Radio & Communications is certainly one of the reasons I’ve had less time and energy for computer archiving. 2023 was my first full calendar year in this role. I hit my one-year anniversary in August! But there’s sometimes a nice overlap between the two efforts. For instance, in 2023 I archived several ham radio related programs for Atari computers and a few for DOS machines and even a handful for CP/M that were rescued from 8-inch floppy disks.

There’s something else, something that I’ve been teasing for years. In my 2018 letter I wrote “There’s a particular archiving project happening in 2019 that is really big and really important for microcomputer history. I’m not ready to talk about it, but hold your breath and cross your fingers.” Then at the end of 2019 I wrote: “That project depends on the help of one person who has been battling ongoing health issues. It is still very much at the front of my mind, and *crosses fingers* will move ahead this year.” It didn’t, and it couldn’t, but with patience and persistence, it’s finally happening. It’s already started, and I can’t wait to have something amazing to show you in 2024. Keep holding your breath and crossing your fingers just a little while longer.

If you support my archiving work on Patreon, thank you! Also please consider making a tax-deductible donation to Internet Archive, the non-profit online library that hosts all of my scans and interviews.

I hope we all have a pleasant and productive 2024. May your patience and persistence pay dividends.

[commodorez]

This would be the one-of-a-kind analog computer from 1958 designed by George Philbrick, at the Vintage Computer Federation's museum in Wall, NJ. It's been rearranged to better reflect an operational configuration for display in the past few years.

[damnghouligans]

Too many people were having fun with their gravity falls OCs without MEEEE so I made one.

Her name’s Veronica Gutierrez and she’s from the year 2047. She’s a data analyst and computer engineer. Also one of like 10 people in a small team, within a bigger nationwide team, working on experimental tech between Ball and Boeing deep in the Humboldt woods.

She was SUPPOSED to be working on machinery that was being used to better understand quantum entanglement and its effects on spacetime (using what she’s pretty sure were parts of an alien spacecraft but, to be honest, she wasn’t being paid enough to ask that). Unfortunately, things went wrong. Very very wrong.

Basically her job was to help figure out if portals were a viable method of transportation and, while trying to repair the stupid robot dog they were using for remote testing, was accidentally transported across space and time into the icy Oregon pacific….. right in front of the Stan-o-War II. Now she’s gotta figure out how in the hell she’s getting home. All while avoiding federal agents, the time police, learning about the anomalies of the falls, and unraveling the conspiracy that lead to her job in the first place. At least she landed in great hands!

She’s 52

She’s in love with British synth pop, both the 80s and resurgence in the 2030s

You can and WILL catch her at the goth club and emo nites (theyre more tame in 2047 now that everyone is in their 60s and 70s)

She’s got a bunch of stories about Wendy’s fave bands, but isn’t sure what’s happened already or not. Wendy treats her knowledge as sacred.

Since she speaks Spanish, abuela, soos, and melody immediately like her.

McGucket is VERY MUCH her lifeline since all of the tech in 2012 feels like playing with dialup again, both in good and bad ways

She’s really into vintage tech, especially the almighty coaxial cable.

Shes a DIY king

Her fave cryptid is the borrego springs sandman, for hometown pride reasons

All of her journals consist of beat to shit composition notebooks, which she’s suddenly really grateful for since her 2040s tech is USELESS here. Plus she can’t influence the timeline so she can’t even talk about it much…… did I mention she really loves mcgucket?? Only guy that speaks her language.

She really loves kids, so she entertains the younger pines pretty much whenever she can. They’re a great distraction to the whole “being thrown out of space and time” thing.

She and Stan enjoy old romance novels and argue about the best couples. This is a sworn secret between the two of them, per stans request. So much so she refuses to encrypt her thoughts with ford, or anyone else, present. Ford already knows about the book club. He doesn’t argue.

She and Ford mostly keep it professional at first but she gets his sense of humor and they confess to embarrassing weirdness they’ve told no one but their own journals before (like ford regularly drinking human blood for a month and liking it because he thought he was turning into a vampire thanks to being bitten by a fruit bat. Or Vero trying to convince her middle school crush to convert her to the legions of the undead because she fell for a convoluted vampire hoax).

They become close friends and confidantes after this, but Mabel is determined for more!!

[vintageimageryx-blog]

Detroit Vintage Map Print Motor City Map 1919 Detroit Map Michigan Map Art Detroit City Road Map Poster Vintage Gift Map Housewarming gift by VintageImageryX

19.44 USD

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[captainconvey]

Central Bank Digital Currencies Are About Control

The CBDC itself is mainly the government’s attempt to protect its privileged position and exert more control over money.

The problem is that there is no limit to the level of control that the government could exert over people if money is purely electronic and provided directly by the government.

A CBDC would give federal officials full control over the money going into–and coming out of–every person’s account.

This level of government control is not compatible with economic or political freedom.

How To Protect Yourself Against the Fed’s Central Bank Digital Currency

The government will be able to instantly fund — or defund — bank accounts with the click of a mouse.

Under the guise of helping consumers get their tax refunds or future stimulus checks faster, the Federal Reserve is seizing even more power.

As the Fed looks to add participants to this network, it’s gearing up for its ultimate goal.

Moving from a paper dollar … to a digital dollar.

FedNow is the precursor to the central bank digital currency.

The Fed’s newest project creates a system for government-to-consumer and consumer-to-government payments.

It also allows for person-to-person payments.

If you think that sounds familiar, it should — because that’s exactly what bitcoin (BTC) was created to do.

And yet, FedNow is the exact opposite.

While bitcoin transactions are processed by a decentralized network of computers, FedNow transactions will go through the ultimate centralized control mechanism: the Fed’s own server.

It gives the Fed control of the creation (and destruction) of money.

This will allow it to control who pays whom and who pays what.

Ultimately, the Fed wants a digital dollar because it gives them more power to create money.

This will give them the ability to monitor every transaction in the financial system.

***Of course, there’s a dark side to all this

The government could decide that the economy needs a major shot in the arm. So, it wages overt war against savers, taking interest rates into negative territory to force you to do something else with your money … or else pay for the privilege of it remaining in a “savings” account.

Then there’s a murky, social middle ground when it comes to incentivizing and punishing behaviors the government likes and doesn’t like.

For example, those sugary snacks and sodas you love? Subject to some sort of debit to disincentivize unhealthy behavior.

Leafy greens and gym memberships? Perhaps a small credit.

Want to keep driving your vintage gas guzzler in the age of electric cars and green energy? Debit.

Then, of course, there’s the privacy issues we touched on above.

Utopia or dystopia — how do you view it?

Regardless of your answer, we’re getting closer to it becoming your reality.

Captain Convey Note

Remember how to government lied about the covid-19 "vaccine" and said its safe and effective?

Remember how the government put pressure on everyone to get the useless deadly clot shot?

They still are.

People lost their jobs if they didn't get the clot shot.

People who have got the clot shot now have a ticking biological time bomb in their body that could cause their eventual demise at any time.

If the digital central bank digital currency is in effect the government will be able to force you even more to do what they want you to do or they can cut your money off instantly.

For instance.

Get the deadly clot shot or you don't get your social security or pension.

Or maybe you are restricted from getting the digital currency out of your account.

Or maybe the feds have taken everything out out your account and your balance is zero etc etc.

Or maybe the feds tell you what you can buy and not buy.

Or maybe you will be forced to accept their promoted perversion of society etc.

Many will do exactly what the fed will tell them to do to get their virtual digital currency.

The government will have complete and total control over your life and everything you do with a CBDC that you must use or else.

Some will not use the cbdc and find other ways to live.

They will be treated like criminals in a criminal government.

Freedom will be a thing of the past.

Can this monster called the cbdc be stopped?

I don't know.

I do know if it becomes reality will will be living in a dictatorship that will have complete control of everything we do.

RESIST Fed Now CBDC Before Its To Late! (Don't become a SLAVE to programmable digital money.)

Digital Currency And What You Need To Know

The BEAST Currency - UNICOIN Global Currency

How the left controls business using ESG.   (ESG stands for Environmental, Social, and Governance.)

How The Left Controls Business Using HEI.    (HEI Stands for Healthcare Equity.)

Clot Shot Victim - Thermograhpic Imaging Shows MASSIVE BLOOD CLOTS!

[foone]

They don't have any upcoming ones listed right now (because midwest and west both just ended), but:

[ironcites]

Vintage personnel and equipment of the National Security Agency ...

Now that’s So Awesome!

[commodorez]

A rare example of an MOS 6501 microprocessor - Vintage Computer Federation Museum, Wall, NJ

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches. 

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now. 

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

<- prev | next ->

Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.” 

_

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

__

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

_

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

☆

☆

thank you for being on my taglist 💕

if you’d like to join my taglist, the link is at the top of my masterlist

*my taglist is super messy, so if you requested to be tagged in “all” fics, it was lumped into the series as well!

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[senzalinea-blog]

Arrivano in Italia i computer “Vintage” Arriva in Italia il Vintage Computer Festival, dove si potranno conoscere e provare tanti computer…

[mrsfoone]

Fun fact:

We almost didn't get to show our first Vintage Computer Festival (VCF) exhibit because the people from the Vintage Computer Federation (also VCF just to confuse us newbs) who run the show thought Foone's application was fake.

You know, cuz "faux one." Plus, our surname seems like generic computer geek to tech peeps.

Foone had to call and explain "yes, I am a real person. And, yes, my vendor application is 1000% legit, thanks."

It was a fun exhibit though! Y'all should give VCF some love. In my experience, they've been a treat for connecting retro tech enthusiasts and educating the masses.

Not sure how your username is supposed to be pronounced, but I like pronouncing it like "no one" but with an F instead of an N

"fo one"

That's fine, you can have your fun.

But I pronounce it like the second half of "typhoon", rhymes with "spoon" or "moon".

[atlanticcanada]

Nova Scotia mass shooter obsessed by spectre of pandemic disaster, violence

The spectre of pandemic-fuelled social chaos and widespread looting appeared to haunt the Nova Scotia mass shooter a month before he carried out his killing rampage of April 18-19, 2020.

Twenty-two people -- including a pregnant woman -- were killed in the 13 hours of shootings and house burnings that began in Portapique, N.S., and carried on in several other communities the next morning.

Over the past year, a provincial court judge has been gradually releasing portions of witness statements used by police to obtain search warrants, with the latest disclosure on Wednesday evening.

In one of the court documents released, Ontario lawyer Kevin Von Bargen told police he was a friend of Gabriel Wortman's and that shortly after the pandemic started in Nova Scotia, the killer became "convinced that the world economy was going to collapse."

The documents refer to an email Wortman sent Von Bargen on March 18, exactly one month before he began his rampage. As described by police in a document to obtain a warrant, the killer told Von Bargen he was "getting a bunch of ammunition because when the government stops handing out money people will be desperate and will start to steal, rob and pilfer from people."

Wortman told his friend "it was going to be worse than the depression because there was no way to stop the sickness (COVID-19) and it was like a forest fire," the document says. In a summary of a March 19 email to an unnamed person, the gunman is quoted as writing, "Thank God we are well armed."

Wortman's spouse, Lisa Banfield, even told police that the killer had bought up large quantities of rice and other food. She said he was "paranoid" that the federal government was going to seize people's money in exchange for shares of some sort.

As previous releases of witness statements have revealed, during the weeks before the mass killing, the murderer turned his investments into cash and purchased over $800 worth of gasoline and propane. After the killings, police would find $705,000 wrapped in tin foil packages inside an ammunition can at one of the gunman's Portapique properties, the documents say.

Some were noticing the killer's behaviour in those final weeks, the court records suggest.

After the killer pulled up at a Brinks Canada office in Halifax on March 20, 2020 to pick up $475,000 in cash -- driving one of the Ford Taurus vehicles he'd purchased from the federal government -- a Brinks employee noted it looked like a police car and found it odd that the reflective tape was still on the vehicle.

In addition, a person whose name is blanked out told police on April 19 last year that the killer "ordered large amounts of ammunition within the past month and picked it up at (name redacted)."

Police have charged Banfield, her brother James Banfield and her brother-in-law Brian Brewster with unlawfully supplying ammunition to the killer in the month before the mass shooting. All three are pleading not guilty, and police have said they "had no prior knowledge" of Wortman's intentions.

Not all of Wortman's shifts in behaviour appear to have been driven by the pandemic, according to witness statements to police.

For example, Von Bargen said in the year before the shooting, "(the gunman) switched from being obsessed with vintage Honda motorcycles to police cars and was buying the cars off a (federal) government surplus website."

The killer would carry out his shootings while disguised as an RCMP officer and driving a replica patrol car.

The court documents contain records of the killer's PayPal purchases of gear he would use to create a replica RCMP vehicle, extending back to March 22, 2019. Websites bookmarked on the killer's computer included information about some of the police car components he was buying and "11 Things You Didn't Know About Cop Cars."

During the summer of 2019, Wortman described to Banfield how he had attached a bumper ram onto the police car he'd bought from the federal government surplus store.

Meanwhile, the killer's interest in guns, particularly his two semi-automatic rifles, was evident. Previous releases have indicated Wortman acquired the rifles illegally, one from a person he knew in Houlton, Maine, and the other through the estate of a deceased friend in Fredericton.

The newly released documents say his computer bookmarks include sites with information about the Ruger Mini-14 semi-automatic rifle and the Colt C7 semi-automatic rifle.

In addition, there is a note saying that on June 24, 2019, Wortman attended the non-restricted firearms course and completed it. However, police have stated that the killer didn't actually possess any licence to own firearms.

When Wortman was killed by police on the morning of April 19 at a gas station in Enfield, N.S., he still had a large supply of ammunition on hand -- as he possibly prepared to carry on to Halifax.

According to statements by police firearms investigators, his Glock .40 calibre, semi-automatic pistol, with a laser pointer sighting grip, was on the front seat and it was loaded with an over-capacity magazine.

To his immediate right there was a cardboard box with ammunition and a metal can containing more loaded ammunition magazines.

Two rifles were lying in the back seat, including the Colt semi-automatic, with three loaded, over-capacity magazines, each with up to 30 rounds.

The second semi-automatic rifle, the Ruger Mini 14, also had an over-capacity magazine designed to hold 40 rounds of .223 calibre bullets, and there were three more magazines ready to load -- two of them over-capacity ones that could hold 40 rounds.

There was also a Ruger P89, semi-automatic pistol, with an empty magazine in it and one round in the chamber, and he had the Smith and Wesson firearm belonging to RCMP Const. Heidi Stevenson, whom he had killed that morning, with 13 rounds in its chamber.

In describing her spouse's attitude in the final weeks before the massacre, Banfield told police, "It was like he was preparing for the end of the world."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published May 20, 2021.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/3wr8xzN

[vintageimageryx-blog]

Detroit Vintage Map Print Motor City Map 1919 Detroit Map Michigan Map Art Detroit City Road Map Poster Vintage Gift Map Housewarming gift by VintageImageryX

19.44 USD

Detroit Vintage Map Print Motor City Map 1919 Detroit Map Michigan Map Art Detroit City Road Map Poster Vintage Gift Map Housewarming gift ◆ NEED A CUSTOM SIZE ?!?! Send us a message and we can create you one! The Federal Map of Detroit this vintage map of Detroit, MI, originally published in 1919, when Detroit was the 4th largest city in the nation THIS WILL PRINTED ON SMOOTH FINE ART WATERCOLOR PAPER This Fine Art Print has been reproduced from the original source . ◆ S I Z E 11" x 14" / 28 x 36 cm 16" x 20" / 40 x 50 cm 18" x 24" / 45 x 61 cm 24" x 30" / 61 x 76 cm 30" x 40" / 76 x 101 cm 34" x 43" / 87 x 109 cm 43" x 54" / 109 x 140 cm 48" x 62" / 122 x 157 cm *You can choose Your preferred size in listing size menu ◆ P A P E R Archival quality Ultrasmooth fine art matte paper 250gsm ◆ I N K Giclee print with Epson Ultrachrome inks that will last up to 108 years indoors ◆ B O R D E R All our prints are without border. But if You need one just drop us a convo at checkout ◆FRAMING: NONE of our prints come framed, stretched or mounted. Frames can be purchased through a couple of on line wholesalers: PictureFrames.com framespec.com When ordering a frame make sure you order it UN-assembled otherwise you could get dinged with an over sized shipping charge depending on the size frame. Assembling a frame is very easy and takes no more than 5-10 minutes and some glue. We recommend purchasing glass or plexi from your local hardware store or at a frame shop. ◆COLOR OF PRODUCT- Please also note that, although every effort is made to show our items accurately and describe my products in detail, we cannot guarantee every computer monitor will accurately depict the actual color of the merchandise. Please contact us with any further questions or concerns about the color or size of any map before purchasing. ◆ S H I P P I N G Print is shipped in a strong tube for secure shipping and it will be shipped as a priority mail for fast delivery. All International buyers are responsible for any duties & taxes that may be charged per country.

[foone]

Hi I'm Foone Turing. I've been here a while but never really did an introduction post, so...

Hi. Yes, that's my name. I'm an asexual trans enby (they/them pronouns), I'm married, and I'm both older than you expect and younger than you expect, depending on what you know me from. I'm a writer and programmer. I'm better known on Twitter, at the moment. I'm well known for being severely ADHD and I'm also on the autism spectrum, somewhere near ultraviolet. I live near Oakland, California, USA, but I grew up on a farm in the south. I'm a furry, but I don't have a fursona yet.

I'm big into retrotech stuff, especially floppy disks. 80s and 90s PC stuff mainly, but I have a passing interest in everything else. I loves me some weird tech that you have no idea ever existed. I'm also big into analog media. VHS tapes, laserdiscs, that sort of thing.

Fandom wise, I'm a Trekie from way back, primarily in the TNG/DS9/VOY/ENT era. I haven't yet gotten into the new stuff, and I have only a passing knowledge of the original series. I'm also a big fan of Babylon 5, Red Dwarf, and Doctor Who (4th doctor, and new who doctors 9,10,11). I watch a bunch of British panel shows: HIGNFY, Mock the Week, Nevermind the Buzzcocks, 8 out of 10 cats (primarily the countdown spinoff).

I am a Big Hater on crytypocurrentseas and AI art. I used to be famously mad at the JWST, but now that it's in space and functional, I've calmed down. They just need to rename it and I'm golden.

I'm currently splitting my social media presence across three sites:

* Tumblr, obviously. Shitposting, jokes, queer stuff, and queer joke shitposts are all going here.

* mastodon: I'm putting my tech stuff here. Teardowns, building new death generators, fun historical weirdness.

* Twitter: formerly my primary platform, but now I just use it to keep in touch with people and make fun of the impending collapse of Twitter.

Stuff I do and have done after the readmore.

(I'm on mobile now but I'll get back to this on the desktop and add more links)

* I run lettuce.wtf, a webcam showing a lettuce to see if it will outlast Twitter. (My money is literally on the lettuce)

* my long running site The Death Generator: a tool for making fake video game screenshots, with user supplied dialogue.

* I run some Twitter bots, one of which is more popular than me, and all of which will need to be migrated soon: Gay Cats, WinIcons, Print Shop Deluxe, and Every Clue Line.

* I got Microsoft 3D Movie Maker open sourced

* I got rickrolled so hard that it ended up on national TV

* I ran doom on a pregnancy test

* I have made many horrible and weird keyboards. Keyboards with hair, keyboards which write poetry, keyboards that take 5 hours to say "hello world", keyboards with randomly placed keys, keyboards with 7 toggle switches instead of buttons, and many more.

* I tear down random electronics and try to figure out and explain how they work. (originally on Twitter, but moving over to mastodon now)

* I pissed off the FBI on more than one occasion. They tried to get me fired, they delayed my wedding by over a month, and they mentioned my 4chan nickname in a federal trial.

* I used to work for 4chan. I was a moderator and coder, I created /rs/ and /r9k/, and I convinced moot to destroy the original politics board (for obvious reasons). Things went further to shit after I left, but I am still glad I left. Oh and I also inadvertently prevented the creation of the 4chan dating/meet up site by being too ADHD to actually complete development of it. You're welcome.

* I ran a windows 95 machine for the maximum amount of time. There's a bug where it crashes after 49.7 days of uptime, so I let it happen. I livestreamed the end on YouTube.

* I've done exhibits at the Vintage Computer Festival on the history of floppy disks and optical discs.

* I've worked with the Video Game History Foundation (and others) to preserve old games and game development resources (source code and such). I'm big into archival!

* I wrote a really famous Twitter thread about the surprising way our vision works, which is still circulating in screenshots (including on Tumblr!) something like 5-6 years later.

* I made my old apartment play the Zelda Ocarina of Time shop music when you walked I the door.

* I run the Tumblr animefloppies, collecting screenshots and GIFs of floppy disks in anime.

* I run several other sub-tumblrs for collecting weird things, but I'll have to link them later.

* I am technically a speedrunner. I did the TAS of Duke Nukem 1, episode 1, and a joke speedrun of Solar Winds, where I beat the game by ignoring every single possible objective and just flying to the end, which takes over an hour.

* I used to make games. Some of them are available for download.

* but it still do, too: I'm working on a (currently unnamed) game about managing a dairy farm. Both the developers have ADHD. This is going to take forever before it comes out, if it ever does.

* I'm currently working on three books. Two are compilations of stuff previously twitterized, one is a novel:

- Always Screaming Forever: non-fiction, stories about my career in the tech industry and various other tech/science/history stuff I love ranting about.

- The Other Side of Screaming: fiction. My short stories.

- Mundane Kaya Sona (placeholder title): a linguist gets pulled into an FBI investigation into a car crash. An unknown language leads to the discovery of a wizard living in a forest in Oregon, and an interdimensional plot to smuggle nuclear weapons to another world, and break a cold war stalemate we (the planet earth) didn't realize we were in. I've been working on the setting for this story since I was about 7 years old, and I'm excited to finally get it out of my head and into yours.

* I'm probably forgetting like 5-10 major things I've done but ADHD is a hell of a drug. I'll add more as they come to me.

[tavi-hayes]

practice challenge ~ journey to the palace

((whoopwhoop, idk how i managed to write this (given it’s quite long and i usually never ever write stuff this long) also please excuse me again for any spelling/grammar errors i try. alsoooo thanks to these wonderful girls: Bethia @h-hart​, Kat @clara-choii​ and Pia @brookelynnsanders​!))

It was silent at work today. The only sounds were the flipping of pages and the ticking on keys of a computer, followed by a frustrated sigh occasionally.

“Maybe we should get some more flutes?” I said, “they’re not that expensive and they won’t take up a lot of space here.”

Lola, being distracted by her laptop, showed no sign that she had heard what I just said.

“Helllooo, Lo are you there?”

“Huh, what?” she ran her hands through her hair as she looked my way.

I lifted the catalogue to show her the flute page.

“No Tavi,” Lo leaned her head on the back of the chair, doing the accounts must have tired her. “We already have flutes, and no one is ever interested in them. They have been here for decades.”

I rolled my eyes, “maybe that is why no one is interested. They look grim.”

Lo refocused on her laptop, and I flipped another page of the catalogue.

Oeh, the bass guitars. My favourite part.

I ran my finger over the page, paying a lot of attention to each one.

There were electronic bass guitars, but also the semi-acoustic ones. Some were very modern-looking with the brightest of colours, while others go for more of a vintage look.

I don’t know if I would ever be able to part with my own baby. The bass guitar, that I now owned, had been eyeing me every day since it had arrived in the store. It had been love at first sight.

But it was such a big investment and I just didn’t have that kind of money.

A part of my earnings was needed for us to make a living, pay the rent and do the groceries for example. And the other part that wasn’t needed for that, entered our savings jar.

We had been saving money since the day my dad was put behind bars. For whatever reason those bars had been in St. George. Freaking St. George.

The province didn’t even have direct borders with Denbeigh, Ottaro was right in between.

That made a simple, but still long, car ride impossible. Not taken the problems that come with the snowy climate into account.

That same climate also caused issues for our only transportation option.

Denbeigh’s climate was hard to predict at times. It could be a beautiful day with sunshine and a clear sky, but then you wake up the next morning to a thick layer of snow.

And because those snowfalls could happen in at least 8 out of 12 months, a lot of planes got cancelled in those months. The only airport anywhere near Winnipeg was privately owned. So the owners could literally ask the prices they wanted for the plane tickets. And boy, they were only focussed on making a profit.

For a simple family of Fives, those prices were unpayable. Hence why we had been saving money for 6 years now, still nowhere near able to pay for tickets. My mom would need a ticket, Daniel and I would too, and we just can’t leave little Aria and Arlan. My dad should be allowed to see them as well. That’s means we already need the money for 5 tickets. But if we include Daniel’s family, with his wife and little Melody, then that would equal 7 tickets.

So yeah, I would never have been able to buy that bass guitar.

Until Lo had a brilliant idea. They would give it to me as my birthday present for the upcoming 10 years. At first, I couldn’t accept that kind of gift, knowing it would have been a huge investment for the Wood family as well. But they insisted, hinting that they would get an employee discount anyway since you know Mr Wood owns the place. So, the price dropped, and they ignored me, so I had to give in and accept. It was the best gift I had ever gotten.

The stores door busted open, “GIRLS!” Gina’s voice took me back to earth. “they’re about to do the draw!”

“What draw?” apparently Lo shared my confusion.

Gina rolled her eyes and grabbed Lo’s laptop from the table. “Wait, I was working! Save it, save it!”

The laptop was put right on top of the catalogue I had just been looking through. Lo ushered over as well.

“Let me just,” Gina had opened an internet page and started typing in the website address of Winnipeg’s number one news channel, WTV. Such an original name.

The news anchor, some middle-aged woman with very fake looking blond hair, appeared on screen. “What is she wearing?” Lo asked, disgust and confusion both showing on her face.

“A track suit, it’s part of her image,” Gina unmuted the laptop, the crow-like voice of the woman filling the room, “now shush, I wanna hear this.”

“… Cameron Porter has been selected for the Illéan national ice hockey team. The star of Winnipeg’s very own ice hockey team, the Winnipeg Belugas, will accompany the national team to the world cup, taking place later this year in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Last week’s draw concluded that Illéa will have to face the German Federation and New Asia in the group stage. The national team’s training will start next week.”

Lo and I shared a look, “this is what you wanted to see Gina?”

“Since when do you care about ice hockey?” I asked, this was something new.

“Urgh, you guys are intolerable,” she silenced us with her finger.

“… and now we will switch to the royal palace in Angeles, to watch the live draw for Prince Arin’s Selection.”

The draw, of course that was what had sparked Gina’s interest. For some unknown reason, the entire Selection had slipped from my mind.

Nevertheless, I felt a little flutter in my stomach. Nerves. Looking over to my friends, I noticed the tense looks on both of their faces. Lo’s hands were clasped together, while Gina’s had disappeared in the pockets of her cardigan.

“Welcome,” some weird voice-over called.

With that the camera focussed on the prince.

“Urgh,” I rolled my eyes.

Lo poked me in the side, laughing, “oh Tavi your distaste is showing.”

“I don’t understand how you can hate someone who is that good looking. I mean have you seen that jawline? Perfection.” Gina had had a crush on the prince for as long as I had known her.

I rolled my eyes again, “I don’t hate him.” The drawing began before I had time to explain myself further.

“From Allens … Idalia Moretti.”

“He doesn’t look very happy,” I couldn’t help but comment, “or comfortable.”

Gina sighed probably annoyed that she couldn’t listen to the show properly, “his engagement was called off not that long ago. That is a pretty hard thing to deal with.”

“Yeah, I see, it’s so hard that he’s having a Selection. Shouldn’t he like get over the other girl first?”

My friends ignored me.

“From Angeles … Emily Rose White.”

This thing was going to take forever. I just wanted to look at the catalogue again, not at that prince, “he’s making me feel uncomfortable, just by watching him.”

Again, no response from either of my friends.

I took that as a sign to remain silent, knowing very well my friends wouldn’t reply anyway now that their eyes were locked on the prince.

“From Dakota … Brooke Lynn Sanders.”

Gina let out a breath she was holding, “okay now is Denbeigh,” she took our hands in hers, “fingers crossed it’s one of us.”

Her hand palms were sweaty, she must really want this.

“From Denbeigh … Octavia Hayes.”

We were all silent for a minute. Then Lo started screaming, Gina joining her. “Oh my GOODNESS!”

“Tavi! You’re going to the palace! You’re going to meet the prince!”

“Yeah,” I was absolutely lost for words. Meeting the prince hadn’t been the first thing that came to my mind, hell it hadn’t even been the second or third thing.

The first thing I thought was: I’m one step closer to getting my dad out of prison. I will be in that freaking library day and night looking for the book that is going to help me. There must be something somewhere about a second opinion on a court order, or something else to annul the judge’s decision.

“Ohhh, I’m sooo jealous of you right now. You are going to meet the prince! And there’s a chance he will fall in love with you and you’ll have beautiful babies.” Gina pulled on one of my curls, it bounced up and down as she let go of it.

“Uhm, I think that particular chance can be redeemed to zero.” I bit my lip, not even in my biggest dreams had I imagined my name would be drawn.

“Tavi, listen. I know you only applied for those laws books, but you need to be friendly to the prince if you want to stay,” Lo insisted, “or else you will be eliminated.”

“And I have to interact with him?”

“There are girls who would kill for a chance of even being in one room with him,” Gina took over, she sounded very serious suddenly. “You’ll meet him that’s for sure, and if you actually try you might make it far enough to earn a date. Just at least try to be nice, okay?”

“Just don’t insult him,” Lo added, “or his family, or the country. Okay, don’t insult anyone.”

The way my best friends were looking at me brought me right back to the good old school days. That was exactly the way teachers had looked whenever I had done something naughty. Which had basically been at least once every day.

“Do you promise?” Lo asked when I didn’t respond.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try not to insult anyone.” I sighed, this is going to be so much harder than I thought.

All of a sudden a lot robot-like voice yelled “BREAKING NEWS”.

It just scared the living shit out of me. We turned as one towards the laptop again.

On the screen was that fake blond woman in her tracksuit again.

“Prince Arin just completed the draw for his very own Selection. Some famous girls will be joining him at the palace. Our very own province will be represented by Octavia Hayes. You might have heard of her, given that she is some meekly Five. But her father’s name will ring a bell. Octavia’s father is Caspar H., a dangerous convict in prison for murdering Winnipeg’s beloved mayor Wilfred Wallis. He might have very well passed the criminal gene onto his daughter. Not only is she definitely not a good representative for Denbeigh, but the lives of the royal family might all be in danger.”

“Damn it!” Stupid news anchor. Why couldn’t they just stay out of my family’s business. Now the entire country will be aware of this. My dad’s arrest did make the headlines of some newspapers when all that had gone down. But that had been 6 years ago and I had hoped no one would remember that.

But now it was out in the open. Again.

It didn’t even matter that my dad was innocent. He had already been suffering for it by being locked up far away from our family.

“Tavi,” Lo put her arms around me, “that’s just bullshit, no such thing as a criminal gene exists.”

Gina joined our hug, “you can’t take anyone seriously who wears a tracksuit on live TV.”

*** Couple of days later ***

Dear dad,

My name got drawn for the Selection, I’m going to the palace and meet the prince. Some palace person is coming to pick me up anytime now so I can’t write a lot. Plus, if the mail has already arrived then you will have to wait another month before you get this anyway.

I asked Daniel if he could start writing a monthly letter as well, maybe he can even add a little picture of Melody so you can see her for the first time. He said he will take care of mom, Aria and Arlan as well. Molly will just cook dinner for more people, which she doesn’t really mind doing. At least that’s what she said.

Anyhow I will write to you from the palace.

Lots of love, 

Octavia

Zohl wzw, R’n hxzivw. Tlrmt gl gsv kzozxv, z dslov mvd vmerilmnvmg dsviv R wlm’g pmld zmblmv. Ovzermt nln, vhkvxrzoob mld gszg rg urmzoob hvvnh orpv hsv’h gibrmt gl orev ztzrm. Zmw dszg droo gsv xlfmgib gsrmp lu nv. Droo R gfim rmgl zm lfgxzhg? Zxxliwrmt gl DGE R’n tlrmt gl hozftsgvi veviblmv rm gsv kzozxv, yvxzfhv lu blfi ‘xirnrmzo tvmvh’. Yfg gsv kvlkov dsl olev blf droo zodzbh yvorvev blfi rmmlxvmxv, vevm ru gsv dslov xlfmgib hvvnh gl gsrmp lgsvidrhv. Qfhg pmld gszg dv nrhh blf wvziob. Zmw R droo gib vevibgsrmt R xzm gl tvg blf ivovzhvw. Qfhgrxv zodzbh kivezroh.

*** At the airport ***

The car journey all the way from Winnipeg to somewhere in Sota had lasted for ages. Even though I hadn’t really been aware of that, since I fell asleep as soon as they closed the doors behind me.  

A frustrated voice had woken me up, “can you please stop drooling all over the leather upholstery?”

My eyes flew open, saliva was indeed smeared on the seat. I quickly wiped it off my face, where it had been present as well. “Sorry,” I mumbled, I then realized we had arrived at the airport, I quickly opened the car door and jumped out.

What I immediately noticed was the rain puddle I had landed in. My shoes and socks were soaking wet. Great.

“Maybe you should try to act more lady-like?” the driver said with a very disapproving tone, looking me up and down. He had already taken my guitar case out of the car and was about to put it right onto the wet street. I quickly grabbed the case out of his hands, clutching it close to my body.

The driver sighed, “there’s the entrance to the airport. Inside it will be clear which directions to follow.”

I made my way towards the entrance he had pointed at when I heard him mumble to himself, “why did I had to drive a barbarian?”

As I turned around, the car’s engine had been running again. I wasn’t sure if he could see me, nor I did I really care. I showed my middle finger to the car anyway. Asshole.

Never had I seen an airport before. It was freaking massive, people walking in all possible directions. Some carrying luggage with them, others with balloons that read “we missed you” or “welcome home”.

One day, my fam and I will be waiting at the airport, carrying one of those dumb balloons around. Coming to pick up dad.

I snapped out of my daydream by someone tapping me on my shoulder. “Miss Hayes, please come with me.”

Nodding, I followed the person not really having another choice since I had no clue which way I had to go. Maybe this is some insane kidnapper.

My heartbeat increased; did I just make a stupid mistake?

“Only one girl has arrived so far. You are to wait for the others before you can board the plane.”

Okay, no insane kidnapper then.

Unless.

This is a complete setup created by his crazy brain.

Panic filled my body, damnit how will I get out of this situation.

Okay, if I just push the person onto the floor, that will give me a chance to run for my life.

One. 

Two.

Three.

I took a deep breath in, ready to make the push. But at the last minute the person side stepped which caused me to lose my balance. He looked at me in a very funny way, “please take a seat, the flight attendant will come get you in a few minutes.”

My cheeks turned very very warm, the redness might very well have equalled the red colour of a traffic light.

Trying to calm myself down, I slumped down into a chair. Yikes, only now became I aware of it again. My socks were still wet and cold. Sigh.

After taking a few deep breaths in and out, I noticed the other girl.

“Oh hey, you’re also a Selected?” I started, realizing it wouldn’t be a bad thing to talk to someone.

She turned towards me, “I am Brooke Lynn Sanders, but just call me Brooke please!”

Not knowing what else to do, I waved at her a little awkwardly. “hi Brooke, nice to meet you. My name is Octavia, but please call me Tavi.”

“Nice to meet you Octavia. Did you have a good journey?” I could already tell she did have the lady-like manners I had been lacking.

Oh god, I couldn’t possibly tell her about the drooling situation, so I decided to stick to a vague answer. “Yeah, it was alright thanks. What about your own journey? Which province are you from?”

“My send off from Dakota was a bit bumpy but I am here now. I wish they would have let me take the train though...”

Another girl arrived, also looking very much like someone the prince could end up with. Compared to these two, I was more of a rag doll.

Pushing my feelings behind that wall deep inside me, I waved her over, “oh yeah hi, please join us.”

We chatted some more for a bit, until Haven arrived.

The way she was walking, the only person I had seen walking like that was Long-Beard Logan, the homeless guy who could often be found near New Wave Records. He walked the same way, but he had one wooden leg.

Then Haven opened her mouth, a weird voice coming out, “hi.”

I noticed Brooke shared my confusion, “uhm hello?”

She took out her phone and typed something, it read ‘I’m Haven’.

My confusion hadn’t ebbed away, “are you alright?”

She typed some more, ‘yup:)) just got a bad cold! what are your names?’.

As a response to that we all introduced ourselves again. These girls didn’t seem to be that bad, hopefully the other Selected at the palace were the same. But the chance of that being true was small. Also, why did I care what the other girls were like? I wasn’t there to make friends, with them or with the prince. I had applied for the thing I needed most. Access to the royal library.

“Have you guys ever been on a plane before? This is all very new to me.” I admitted, trying to ease the nerves that had been building up inside me ever since my name had been picked in that draw.

Brooke had a very strong opinion on planes. Private planes more specifically.

Which came as a shock to me. The private plane part. I didn’t know what I was thinking but taking a private plane had never crossed my mind.

In the meantime, Brooke started talking about the CO2 emissions.

“How else would we get to the palace without having an endless journey? It’s not like there’s a teleportation device, right?” I said a little more vicious than I intended. The higher castes used planes all the time, if anyone had a cause in the destruction of our planet it was definitely them.

Brooke definitely had thought of it all, as she mentioned the outstanding quality of the Illéan train system. Clara chimed in to agree with her.

I decided to not mention my exact thoughts about the higher castes, given the fact that I had promised my friends back home not to insult anyone. So I just nodded my head, “yeah okay I understand your point.”

We were able to board the plane shortly after that. Brooke sat down in a window-seat and Clara nestled herself in the seat next to Brooke’s.

I took a chair on the opposite side of the plane, trying to create some sort of privacy for myself without being rude.

Haven sat down in the seat next to me and smiled at me.

The entry door closed; I could no longer contain my nerves. “Here we go I guess.” I tried to calm my breathing, but it didn’t really help. I tried to think of my family back home in Denbeigh, didn’t help either. I heard my dad’s voice in my head, it was like he was actually talking to me, “You are a strong girl, the flight will be over before you know it. Octavia, you can do this.”

A weird sound whisked my dad’s voice away, I looked over towards the source of the sound. It was Brooke choking on her drink. “Please don’t die,” I said. Her dying here would be a shitty start to this whole adventure. Besides, Brooke actually seemed like a nice person.

She coughed, “I am – I am trying.”

Haven mentioned her sibling, how they were close and stuff. She then asked if we had any siblings ourselves.

This provided me with the perfect distraction. I turned towards her, “yeah, I have three siblings. One older brother, a younger sister and a younger brother as well.”

Normally I would never share such personal information with someone I had just met but talking about them was the distraction I so desperately needed from this whole plane situation.

The others talked some more, but I just realized the one and only thing that would get me through this.

Music.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna listen to some music.” I said as I took my earphones out of my bag. “Haven would you like to join?” I asked her politely, given that she was sitting right next to me and it would have been quite rude otherwise.

She smiled at me and nodded, so I handed her one of the earphones. “I do have a very mixed taste in music so you’re in for a treat.” Maybe I could even make her listen to our own music, you know casually extending Five Whispers’ audience.

As a reply, Haven winked at me, “I love a girl with mixed music taste.”

Oh who would have thought, I had something in common with another Selected. I too liked people with a diverse music preference, since music says so much about a person. The quote ‘You are what you listen to’ was on one of the walls of New Wave Records music store. It was also my own personal life motto.

Clara and Brooke continued chatting, but I didn’t listen anymore. The music had taken a hold on me and it had only released me from its grip when the plane hit the ground in Angeles.