#walked to work because my vehicle's battery bit the dust

[moon-and-stars-selfship]

Woke up early

Ate healthy breakfast

Took a walk

Man, I am just nailing it this morning!

/s

[withastolenlantern]

What do you think it was like?” Rafael asked as he hacked at the tough vegetation with his hoe, pulling the dense vines into a pile in the pathway. The soil was nitrogen poor, even when heavily fertilized, and the local flora had a fibrous root that was always threatening to choke out their transplanted species. The ground cover was too thick for the harvesters to handle, so the crops were still pulled by hand at the end of the wet season.

“Why do you always ask that?” I said, stooping down to the ground and dusting the dirt from the now exposed potatoes, gently brushing them clear like an archaeologist might some ancient, precious treasure. I pulled the tubers from the ground and put them into the cart.

“You don’t wonder?” He leaned on the handle of the hoe, brushing the sweat from his dark brow.

“I try not to.”

“Come on, Shan. If I have to have one more meeting about soil nutritiation, I’m going to kill myself. And you’re down there all the time…”

“We’re not having this conversation again.” I hadn’t come out to the fields looking for a fight, but I was always prepared for one. “Stop changing the subject.”

He frowned. “Please don’t start.”

“I’m just saying. The season’s almost over, and we’re not getting any younger.”

He put down the hoe and knelt down next to me, lifting another potato and cradling it. He looked at me plaintively. “I just… are you sure this is what you want? To spend your life toiling in the dirt? I mean, your father…”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “My father is a drunk, and he has nothing to do with this.”

“He didn’t used to be. He might snap out of it. Some of them do,” he said. “I’m just worried you’ll get bored of me, of this. It’s not a glamorous life.”

“No, but it would be our life, Rafe,” I pleaded.

“One more season. The bureau is due to review the allotments soon, and I almost have enough saved up for a down-payment on my own forty.” He kissed me gently on the forehead, then stood, and stared up toward the sky and sighed. “You honestly don’t wonder? What it was like, knowing what was happening out there?”

I stood too, matching his gaze. I put my arm around his wrist and held it gently to my chest. “Come with me. I have to check on him, and then maybe you’ll see why I’d much prefer to farm potatoes with you.”

It had been one-hundred fifty-nine years since we’d last heard from anyone outside the system. The Network had gone down July 17th, 2938, or at least that’s what the history books said. And that is only if you went by the original Earth calendar, which no one did anymore. With a twenty-eight hour day and a rotation period of six-hundred seventeen days, matching time here on New Caledonia to that on Earth was pointless. With The Network, information would take an interminable time to transit the two-hundred eighty-four light year and four relay distance between us; even then, relativity was unclear on whether there was any such thing as simultaneous events at these stellar distances anyway. For me it was irrelevant: the Earth might as well not exist, may not exist, and Sol was just a very dim star you could barely make out in the southern sky.

For us, it had been a normal Sunday, Wet Season 12, CSY 134. New Caledonia is an eccentric planet with a single landmass in its northern hemisphere surrounded by a large planetary ocean. Because of its near forty-five degree axial tilt relative to the ecliptic, the year is divided into two seasons of nearly equal length. During the Wet Season, the more direct sunlight heats the seas, driving strong currents that bring strong storms to the western coast. The moist air blows in and dumps copious rain across the western plains before climbing into the central mountain range that separates the continent, the only remnant of the clash between the two gigantic tectonic plates that formed the land we now call home. This quirk of a jetstream leaves the eastern plains beyond the mountains in a giant rain shadow, barren and dry. For this reason, all the major settlements are here in the west, and in the Dry Season, the ocean gyres cease and we hunker down for a long, cold, arid winter.

The rains were strong that Wet Season, or so the stories go. At first they though the heavy cloud cover and unstable air was interfering with communication to the satellite arrays. Minkowski Transmission provides a supraliminal link through the interstellar void, but it was still subject to the space-time warps of a heavy gravity well; we are forced to rely on more pedestrian broadcast methods to communicate with the Network Relays out in longer orbits free from gravitational interference. But they checked the dishes and the transmission center and everything was fine. Then they checked again. Then they waited until the Dry Season, and checked again. And then they waited.

We walked up the path to the main road where I’d parked my truck, and Rafe loaded the cart, only half-full of potatoes, into the rear cargo bed. “How is he doing?” he asked, hopping into the cab and pulling on his safety belt.

I pushed the ignition switch and the engine purred to life. The battery chimed a plea that it needed to be recharged soon, and I felt that deep in my soul in a way the inanimate vehicle could never understand. “He has good days and bad.”

“How much longer?”

“Too long.” I put the truck into gear and programmed the destination into the navigational system. It lurched forward, the tracks catching slightly in the soft, damp clay of the plain. “Honestly I stopped counting a long time ago.”

We made it maybe half a mile before the rain started again, at first light pricks ricocheting off the windscreen of the truck, but quickly growing to fat blobs that exploded with a violent thud. I opened the valve to the distillation unit on the roof and a slow drip of cleansed water trickled into my canteen. After a few seconds I closed the valve and took a sip; the water was cool and clear. I offered some to Rafe, but he demurred with a slight wave. “Do you think he’ll go back to his career, after?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. At the beginning they said they’d welcome him back, but I think we all expect that was just a pleasantry. I’m… I’m not sure if he could handle it, now.”

We rode in silence for a few more minutes before he spoke again. “I’m not sure he’ll approve,” he said with subtle defeat. “Especially if he goes back to work.”

“He doesn’t get a say,” I replied. I reached across the seats and took his hand in mine. I smiled as brightly as I could in reassurance. “I’ve made my choice. This is what I want, for myself. For us. He can object if he wants, but what’s the worst that happens? It’s not like we can be further apart, not after what’s happened.”

It was several days into the Dry Season before the panic really set in. The original settlers had always known it was a one-way trip out here- four hundred years was a long time in stasis, and there was never a guarantee the planet would provide a sufficient fuel source to power the generation ship’s massive thrust engines back up. So like seeds in the wind humanity scattered itself across the stars, secure in the knowledge that the Network Relays would prevent them from ever being truly alone. Mankind might diverge physically and spacially; over time genetics and environmental factors would certainly breed out several new homo subspecies. But with the Network we could at least stay connected enough to share our stories, our art, our discoveries, and what else has humanity ever been but that?

The governor made an address and appealed for calm. New Caledonia had been self-sustaining since the beginning, she reminded everyone. They’d be fine. It was always a known possibility that this might happen, and the best everyone could do was to go on with their lives. The Network would come back, or it wouldn’t; they’d keep trying to re-establish communication.

The rumors started swirling immediately. The panel show ratings skyrocketed. We watched some of the footage in school, when I was younger; one talking head insisted it could be an alien threat, splitting us up before some pending invasion. There’s never been any sign of extraterrestrial intelligence even exists, let alone in competition for colonization, the other shouted. A third argued it was a sign from God, that humanity had outreached its grasp.

A popular conspiracy stream posited that maybe it was just New Caledonia. What if everyone else’s Network connection still works, and they’re cutting us out? The opposition party saw an opportunity and ran with it- what if the government shut down the link? On purpose! What if this was all a ploy to consolidate power and rule the planet as an oligarchy? The riots lasted three days, with violence and looting in the city streets before cooler heads prevailed. The government stayed in tact, and the opposition leaders were purged for fomenting insurrection. And thus was born the New Caledonian hermit kingdom.

“I don’t think I’d even want it to come back, at this point,” I groused. “Not after all of this.”

“How can you say that?” Rafe asked, incredulous. “You’re not the least bit curious?”

I thought for a moment. “Curious, yeah, I guess. But I don’t know that it would change all that much. It’s been so long. What if it comes back and it’s just… too different?”

“Yeah but think of what we might be missing out on,” he argued. “It might have helped with The Rot. It might have…”

“Don’t,” I warned, feeling the threat of tears welling my eyes.

For one-hundred fifty-nine orbits we’d tended our flocks and tilled our soils alone. Without a broader knowledge base, technological progress slowed. In CSY 204 a plague came, some meta-organic compound released from a pit mine dug too deep. The Rot claimed thirteen percent of the population before we could quarantine it out. When I was nine they finally found a way to inoculate against it. I remembered wincing at the shot as my father looked on, relief evident in his face that I’d be spared the fate that had claimed so many lives, including my mothers.

Maybe Rafe was right; maybe someone out beyond the stars might have helped us avoid that tragedy. And maybe someone here might know or do something that could save lives elsewhere. But in the years since the Network went down, we’d persevered, raised generations on our own. And inevitably just like Rafael they would stare up at the night sky with the same wonder as those before. And then they’d also ask about the abandoned broadcast center in the empty valley beyond the outskirts of the main settlement, grown over with the local moss-analogue from years of disuse.

The truck crested a small hill, the tracks struggling for purchase in the mud as they pulled the vehicle over the incline, and we looked down into the valley where that broadcast center sat. Every two years an adult was selected by random lot to man the station, in the increasingly unlikely event communication with the Network was re-established. The government called it “The Receiver” in an effort to present it as some important position, but everyone knew it was a joke. It came with no real benefits, just a small stipend and the obligation of a community. We all prayed at the Harvest Festival that our number would not be drawn from the bowl.

My father was a proud man, an engineer who helped manage the settlement’s geothermal power station. His luck had run out eight-hundred sixty-three days ago. He swore up and down that the lottery was rigged; that the government thought him being a technical expert instead of a field-hand, that the fact that his wife was gone and his children all grown, made him expendable. He might have been right, but that didn’t absolve him the responsibility. So he’d resigned himself, and us with him, to the doldrums of minding an interface that may never come back online.

He read a book a day, or at least he claimed, and while the library did have a fair amount of humanity’s literary efforts prior to the cutoff, their plots and concerns were divorced from life here on the frontier. He took up drinking, inevitably, as did everyone else assigned to the posting. What they don’t tell you when your name is pulled from the bowl is that the sacrifice is not yours alone- the burden is your family’s to bear. My brother’s and I took turns minding him, bringing him food and checking on his mental well-being but they all had families of their own now, and I was desperate to start mine too. We were all ready to move on, and I hoped by bringing Rafael with me he could see that I was serious about starting our life together.

We pulled up outside the comms center and dismounted from the truck.

“Hang on a second,” Rafe said. “I want to talk to him.”

I looked at him quizzically.

“Just… let me do this, okay?”

I smiled and kissed his cheek gently. He went inside while I unloaded a tote filled with fresh fruits and a sandwich I’d laced with some amphetamines to help keep him lucid. The interior of the building was dark; the lights hard burned out several months ago and no one from the government could be bothered to maintain the place on any expedited time scale. I brushed some of the local vines from the threshold of the entryway as I entered. “Dad? It’s Shan. I brought some food.”

As I passed from the mottled grey sunlight outside to the dark interior I could make out blurry figures backlit by the eerie glow of his reading lamp.. They were both standing, which was odd. Dad was usually in the chair when I visited, most of the time asleep.

Rafe emerged suddenly from the shadows and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Shan. Stop.”

“What is it?” I asked, taken aback. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s… here. Let’s go outside.” He pulled me gently but forcefully toward the door.

“What the fuck, Rafe, stop it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s your dad. He…”

I shoved Rafael out of the way and stepped forward into the comm station. My father came into clearer focus, and I could tell immediately something wasn’t right. I came closer and dropped the basket to the floor in shock. His body hung limply, his feet swaying gently five centimeters from the floor. A length of electrical cord, half-stripped from the wall behind him, was wound tightly around his neck. I grabbed his feet and lifted, crying. “No no no no no, dad, fuck.” I pushed and contorted his body, trying to free him but to no avail. Tears were streaming down my face now, hot and wet.

I pulled a short table across the concrete floor and climbed up onto it, my vision blurred with anger and fear and sobs. I yanked at the cable, trying to unwind it, to free his body. I pulled and wrenched and screamed in desperation, banging on the overhead truss that supported it until I nearly broke my hand. I collapsed onto him, my hands around his shoulders, my face against his chest. His skin was cold and pallid. I was too late to save him.

“Shan.” Rafael stood in the entryway to the station. He offered his hand I took it gingerly, climbing down from the table and following him outside. He pulled me in close as I wailed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t…”

I pulled Rafe to the ground and cried for another few minutes, my chest heaving with agony. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered finally.

“It’s not yours either. You did the best you could.”

“I know.” I pulled the sleeve of my jumper up over my hand and wiped my eyes. “I think a part of me knew it would always end like this. It has so many times before. In a way it might be… I don’t know. Better? I’d always worried about what he would be like after.”

I gulped in air as my breathing stabilized. “Come help me get him down?”

“Sure,” he said, mustering a weak smile.

We went back into the station and looked upon him once more. He looked frail, fragile in a way he hadn’t before. Being alone this long, it just did things to a person. Rafael grabbed his feet as I climbed back up on the table. With Rafe bracing his weight I was able to loosen the taught cable and slip it free, and we lowered the body gently down to the table. He went out to the truck to get a bag to cover my father, and I stood silent vigil, until in the quiet I heard a strange humming noise from across the room. I turned and saw that the Network terminal screen was activated. “That’s… weird.”

I walked across and stood in front of the terminal, suddenly alive with activity. Rafe entered back in with the bag. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know. It’s not usually… on.” I leaned in close. “It’s displaying something.”

A line of dots and dashed appeared on the interface. “I… I think it’s old morse code. Dad had to learn it. I helped him practice.”

“What’s it say?” he asked, a sudden dread in his voice I didn’t recognize. I could feel my stomach welling up in anxiety as well.

“It says.... HELP.”

[rogershoe]

Lights, Camera, Action

Part Two

(part one)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 2.4k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings @glxctt @cavillxhenry @lovelyapplessss @hereagainsstuff @linkpk88 @aliceperdida @weeping-redemption @magicalsaladnacho @lancelotapricot @ineedyourskulls @fandomarstrash

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, slow burn

Notes: I hope you guys like this chapter! I know the story is moving slowly (both the chapters are of the same day ahaha) but this is the reader’s first day on set so I wanted to make it really detailed! Thank you so much for reading and please leave feedback and suggestion..it makes my day!!

——–

You stood up, dusting your knees to get rid of any residue from the hot tarmac. You couldn’t get the picture of him looking at you out of your mind. You wondered if he would recognize you on set…or whether he thought you were creepy. You started walking towards the door, thoughts still rushing through your mind. Maybe he didn’t think anything of it…or maybe he was still thinking about you, the stalkerish girl that was staring at him…

“Ow!”

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you realized you had opened the grey door too quickly, accidentally hitting one of the crew members.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry” you pleaded, lowering your hand…your first day and you had already injured someone.

The thirty something year old woman looked at you annoyingly, taking off her headset and rubbing her forehead, “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Yeah..I’m sorry” your brain went blank as you tried to recall what you were doing outside….

“I was just getting a battery” you said suddenly and gestured to your back pocket.

“A battery? You’re a PA?” she lowered her hand, her expression softening

“Yeah” you said, letting out a breath of relief..maybe she’d know where to find the other PAs, “It’s my first day”

“Oh great!” she suddenly exclaimed, her mood changing..she held out her hand, “I’m the key production assistant, Naomi” she smiled, her bright red lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth

You took it, glad but a bit taken aback by her sudden change in mood. Then you realized…you had essentially just injured one of your bosses..shit. How many more things could go wrong today?

“Hey, nice to meet you” you blurted out..the adrenaline from seeing Daniel and hitting the key PA with a metal door was thankfully dying down.

“Has Huey shown you around yet?” she asked, pulling her headset back on

You nodded, “Yeah, he mainly gave me a tour of the basecamp”

“Awesome” she smiled again, “you can follow me” she said, starting to walk towards the basecamp, “I just need to do a couple more jobs in the trailers and then you can get started”

The butterflies in your stomach came alive again… what if she had a job near Daniel’s trailer? Worse yet, what if she had to do something in Daniel’s trailer?

“You coming?” she said squinting and looking back at you..you realized you’d frozen in your spot.

“Yeah..sorry” you stumbled over your words again and jogged up to her. The walk was short, less than a minute…it gave you plenty of time to get a good look at the trailer Daniel had previously gone into. The curtains were drawn over the windows so you couldn’t see anything inside. Maybe there had been a makeup artist already waiting in there for him and he was getting ready.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about him and looked forward at the tens of other trailers. You wondered if any other actors had arrived while you were inside or busy apologizing to Naomi.

As if she read your mind, (these crew members had a gift), she spoke, “the actors should be getting here any second now” she looked at the white watch on her wrist.

You decided to speak up, “I saw Daniel go into a trailer a few minutes ago”

She looked at you, an odd look  across her face that you couldn’t read….you quickly looked for any mistakes in your sentence and realized you had called him Daniel

“I mean Mr. Sharman” you stuttered, hoping she wouldn’t get angry

Her expression quickly returned to normal and she suddenly broke out in laughter, clutching her stomach with her hands

“OH, darling, it’s fine!” she straightened up, still smiling brightly

“You don’t have to call him that in front of me..I was just a bit concerned because calling him by his first name implies you know of him” she cleared her throat and you realized you were at the basecamp..”and knowing of these actors can lead to you becoming starstruck or…. or distracted….it’s essentially a recipe for a disaster”

That was unfortunate. You had been trying to tell yourself over and over again that you wouldn’t.. no, couldn’t get starstruck. As she said, it did seem like a “recipe for disaster”.

You looked around at the multiple trailers, and saw that there were actually a few people hovering around six or seven  of them…Huey had told you those were the costume department trailers.

Naomi started walking towards them. You forced yourself to keep your eyes facing forward, away from Daniel’s trailer on the right.

There was a cool breeze in the air and you revelled in the feeling, the refreshing coldness washing over your face.

“Naomi can you take these to trailer thirteen?” A woman called out. She had curly long blonde hair and wore bright red glasses.

Naomi smiled and nodded. You both walked towards the trailers and the woman who was standing on the steps into one of the vehicles. The woman headed inside and you both followed her. The inside of the trailer was much larger than you thought and was bursting with racks full of various different costumes. You could’ve spent hours just looking through all the clothes but unfortunately this was work..and you had no such privilege.

The eccentric looking woman looked through one of the racks before pulling out a long black costume. It was covered by clear plastic so you couldn’t really tell what it was but it seemed to be similar to a coat or robe. When she handed it to Naomi you saw that it also had a hood stitched onto the back.

Naomi gestured for you to head out of the trailer and you did so, carefully walking down the metal steps. You stopped beside the trailer, waiting for her next instruction.

She came up to you and handed you the hanger that the costume was hanging on.

“Each trailer is numbered, I’m sure Huey told you that”, you nodded, he had, “the number is on the main trailer door” you nodded again

“I want you to take this” she pointed at the clothing, “to trailer number thirteen”, you thought you saw a slight grin dance across her face for a split second.

“Alright…sure” you said, that sounded simple enough.

“Once you’re done, just come back here” she smiled before walking to one of the many people there

You nodded, smiling profusely and then walking away from the crowded trailers.

You wondered where trailer thirteen was…the costume trailer was twenty five so you started heading back the way you came. You looked at the doors and saw the numbers getting smaller. When you reached trailer fifteen you almost dropped the costume on the ground. It was two doors away from Daniel’s trailer. What was your luck? As much as you wanted to meet Daniel, you weren’t ready. Especially after what had happened earlier.

But this was work and you had to do your job and remain professional no matter the circumstances. You stalked up to the trailer mentally preparing yourself, you swore they could hear your heart beating all the way inside the trailer…… but before you could even put your foot on the first step, a woman walked out. She held a brush in her hand…a make-up brush.

“Oh hey” you said slightly taken aback,

“Hey! This is for Daniel right?” she said, a grin plastered across her face. She seemed sweet, really sweet.

“I think so” you said looking at the costume closely…you saw a small label which D.S was written on, “they told me to bring it to trailer thirteen”

“Well you’re at the right place” you stepped aside to let her move off the stairs. Suddenly another woman emerged from the trailer, her jet black hair was pulled back into a bun and she looked younger, maybe in her early twenties..close to your age actually.

“Oh hey, I’ll take that for you” she beamed and reached her hand out for the costume

You breathed a sigh of deep relief and suddenly all the nerves centered around meeting Daniel left your body. You were about to hand it to her, before the first woman..the supposed makeup artist spoke.

“Jasmine, no,  you come with me. I have to show you around the costume department”, Jasmine walked down the steps, an apologetic look on her face. The makeup artist then turned to you, “you can just take that inside and put it on the couch to your left”

“Oh okay sure” you said trying to seem confident. The nerves had returned in full force now but you tried your best to hide them. You hoped your face hadn’t gone completely red. The door had been left slightly open and you slowly walked up the steps, thankful that the two women were now walking away.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. The inside was very different from the costume departments. There was only one rack in the corner and it was empty, there was a small purple couch on your left and a small door right in front of you which you guessed was to the bathroom. But the most interesting part was the long mirror that stretched across almost the whole wall opposite the door. It was similar to the set up at a salon, with a lower long table parallel to the mirror (supported by the wall) adorned with various different sorts of brushes, hairdryers, tweezers and three black leather spinning chairs also placed there.

 In the middle chair, sat Daniel Sharman.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped into the trailer. You were afraid your legs might give way any second. He was on his phone, his hair tied back in a bun…a bored look on his face. You couldn’t help but think about how attractive he looked.  His keys lay on the table in front of him, next to a magazine. You carefully walked towards the couch and remembered the rule about how you never talked to the talent. You were thankful for it at this point….at least you didn’t have to try and make conversation. He was still looking at his phone… had he even noticed you had come in? The clear plastic covering of the robe crinkled loudly as you placed it down on the couch, breathing heavily.

He looked up suddenly, his blue eyes catching yours in the mirror as your head jerked up to see if he had heard. He seemed alarmed at first but his expression softened when he realised that you had only just brought his costume.

He laughed softly, “You scared me for a second there” he said, you could clearly hear his British accent.

“Oh…sorry..” you said smiling anxiously. You knew you were very clearly blushing, you just hoped he hadn’t taken any notice. He hadn’t, he was looking right down at his phone again. You straightened your back, realizing he really didn’t care about whether you were blushing or not…he didn’t actually care about you or what you were doing at all.

You walked back to the door. As you pulled it open, you heard his voice again,

“Thank you..”

You couldn’t help but smile as you muttered “your welcome” and stepped out of the trailer. You took a small glance at him before closing the door and saw that he had a slight grin on his face as he put down his phone and picked up the magazine.

8:20 am

It was almost time for filming and you couldn’t be more excited. Naomi had given you a walkie talkie and also a headset so you could communicate with the assistant directors and also the rest of the production assistants. You had been introduced to one other PA, his name was Louis. He had tan skin and shoulder length curly black hair. Cursed was his third and largest project yet.

He tapped you on the shoulder suddenly. You were standing in the studio waiting for the actors to arrive on set so they could start filming. You turned around, your arms crossed over your chest,

“yeah?”

He pointed to where the hallway entered the studio. Through it came Katherine Langford dressed in what looked like a nun’s clothes. You smiled widely…..first Daniel now Katherine? This day had been stressful and demanding and anxiety-ridden..but hopefully, finally getting to see all these actors play their characters would make it worth it.

Your heart beat faster in excitement as she walked over to the director for her instructions.

Louis spoke into your ear, “When they’re about to start filming, Huey will say rolling into the earpieces… then every PA will repeat that after him so we can make sure everyone on the set knows”

He saw you had a confused look on your face and explained, “only a few people on set have a headset, and the AD cant scream loud enough for everyone on set to hear”

You nodded then, understanding “So I just have to say rolling?”

He nodded turning back to the set.

Katherine was standing in the marble looking room that connected to what looked like a dining area with long wooden tables.

You suddenly saw Louis swivel his head towards the hallway and you did the same, your eyes widening at what you saw. Daniel was dressed in what you guessed was the long black costume you had brought into his trailer. His hood was raised over his head and as he walked into the studio you noticed that he had tear like markings drawn onto his face. Your mind wandered off to where you didn’t want it to…you couldn’t deny that he looked hot.

“He looks sick, doesn’t he?” you heard Louis whisper into your ear

“He really does,” you said, nodding eagerly. You were tired but seeing the actors in their costumes was like a splash of cold water to your face. Maybe you wouldn’t fall asleep on set after all.

Please lmk what age you’d like the reader to be in the comments! I was thinking of keeping her in her early to mid 20s since that would fit with the fact that she had been watching Daniel since she was a teenager :))

Part three

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

Take Care

Summary: While on a hunt in West Virginia, the trio literally run into a group of campers. While on the search for some help they run into a new unknown foe. 

Pairing: Dean X reader, Sam x Reader,

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, horror movie scenes

Wrong Turn (2003) Fusion with Supernatural

2457 words.

Notes: Please note that I changed the plot a bit, because some of it would not make sense if the main characters were Dean and Sam Winchester. Just saying. 

Spoilers for Wrong Turn (2003) below.

The Impala screamed down the interstate, Dean drumming his fingers on the wheel, barely listening to Sam yammer on about the case we were heading toward. You smirked to yourself, one ear bud in your ear so you could hear the boys up front, and caught Dean throw you a wink in the rear-view window.

“So it looks like at least three people have gone missing in the last few days, two of them skilled free climbers. They haven’t found any bodies or proof that either of them were even there. Not even a vehicle.” Sam finished glancing up at the road from his phone a distant look in his eyes.

“How do we know they were ever there then?” Dean asked casually, maneuvering the car around a slow-moving pickup truck, placing both hands on the wheel for a moment.

“GPS.” Sam responded back. “Their phones were still on until recently.”

You glanced out the window at the highway rushing past, noticing how wooded this area was. You had never been to West Virginia, and certainly never this far off the grid, your phone losing service by the second. Huffing out a sigh, you put it on airplane mode to conserve the battery, clicking through your “Impala playlist.” You often got “road trip anxiety” as Dean liked to call it, and being sprawled out in the backseat with some music was the only cure. The Impala began to slow and you heard Dean curse under his breath, prompting you to pop your head up behind the front seat. There was a heavy traffic jam ahead, a couple semi-trucks nearest the car. Dean slowed the Impala to a stop and slammed his hand down on the dashboard in frustration.

“Relax,” Sam muttered, glancing back at you and rolling his eyes, before stepping out of the Impala up to the semi-trucks. All of the vehicles seemed to have their engines either idling or off, and you could hear Sam clearly up ahead.

“Hey, do you have an idea what’s going on up here,” Sam asked as a trucker with wild hair stuck his head out the window.

“Tractor jackknifed about five mile up,” the trucker responded, spitting some chew at Sam’s feet. “Spilled chemicals and shit all over the road.”

Sam glanced back at us quick before turning back to the trucker. “Any idea how long it’ll take to clean up?”

“Couple hours,” the guy responded, a sigh escaping from Dean’s mouth that identically matched the one out of Sam’s up ahead.

“You in a hurry?” The trucker continued. Sam glanced up at him quickly, clearly weighing his response. You were secretly glad that he decided to talk to the man rather than Dean. The older Winchester was good with people, but you could feel his frustration rising, having sat still for almost ten minutes now.

“Yeah,” Sam finally stated. “We,” he continued gesturing toward the Impala. “are trying to get up toward Raleigh by tonight.”

The trucker nodded, “Well, what you oughta do is get back in your car, fix your hair a couple hundred more times—”

“Thank you,” Sam simply stated walking away quickly before the guy could finish. You stifled a laugh in the backseat, and Dean was coughing into his hand to hide his own when Sam returned.

“Shut up.” Sam muttered. “Road won’t be clear for a while. Let’s back track and see if we can find another way.”

Dean nodded, cough laughing one more time before backing the Impala up expertly and heading in the opposite direction of the traffic jam. You all drove for another thirty minutes or so while Sam navigated toward some side roads, until his phone lost service completely, Dean shook his head in frustration and turned roughly onto a dirt road, a wooden sign stating “Gas, 1 Mile.” Pulling up to what could only be described as a shack, Dean parked the Impala and threw an arm over the bench seat, turning toward you.

“You don’t have to go to the bathroom, do you?” He asked lowly. You shook your head no, and he nodded his. “Good, stay in the car.” It was more of a demand than request, and normally you would fight him, but the abandoned gas station filled you with unease, and you felt much safer hunkered down in the backseat. Sam glanced at you and smiled, before opening the door with a creak.

_______________________________________________________________________

Dean mirrored his brother, and walked toward the man out front who was wearing nothing but a wife-beater and seemed to be sitting on a beer keg.

“Excuse me, sir,” Sam started, as the two approached. “Do you have a payphone?” The man gestured with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in his hand, and Sam headed in that direction, muttering that he was going to check in with Cas. Dean chose to keep close to the man and glance at the map framed on the wall next to him. The man continued to drink his Pepto quietly, letting it dribble down his chin. Sam stopped at the payphone, picking up the receiver and clicking the hook a couple times, before loudly dropped the receiver back down to its home.

“This one’s not working,” Sam huffed out. “Do you have another phone I could use?”

“Long distance?” The man asked quietly. Sam looked quickly at his brother for help, raising his arms and dropping them down slowly.

“What isn’t long distance from here?” Dean asked gruffly, coming to stand next to his brother, who was much more paitent.

“You cuttin’ wise with me son?”

“No,” Sam decided to cut in. “Sir, we are just looking to make a call.”

“Well, that’n there is my only phone.”

“Right.” Dean answered, shoving his hands into his pockets, and looking back at Y/N in the backseat. “The highway is really jammed up. Do you know of another route heading south?”

“Nope.”

Dean shook his head and headed back over to the map. “Why is this ‘Bear Mountain Road’ dotted on the map?” He asked, turning his head toward the man.

“Dirt. ‘fraid they ain’t got around to pavin’ it yet.”

“It looks like it runs into the highway about 15, 20 miles.” Dean said more to Sam than anyone else.

“If you say so.” The man answered anyway. Dean headed back toward the Impala, Sam following behind. “Thank you very much.” He said toward the man. “You take care.”

The boys were back into the Impala and tearing off with a cloud of dust, so they didn’t hear the man mutter after them, “You’re the one gonna need take care.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You all kept driving for another half hour or so, Dean finding the dirt road easily enough, and continuing down it, muttering to himself about washing Baby later. The road was surprisingly smooth, and Sam went back to checking out his phone for service, when the Impala suddenly seized up, jolting you to an upright position, your wrist steadying yourself on the side door and bending a little too far back. With the wheels locked up the Impala continued to slide on the smooth dirt, crashing harshly into a white jeep parked in the middle of the road, the screech of metal drowning out any other sounds.

“Y/N” you heard from your fog, shaking your head to hear more clearly.

“Sweetheart,” Dean said, pulling your face toward him lightly, his other hand grabbing at your hurt wrist. You hissed loudly, ripping it away, and leaning back into the seat out of his grasp. Sam was out of the car in a second and leaning into the backseat to look at both your head, which you only then realized was bleeding, and your wrist.  The Impala spinning and crashing caused you to hit your head as you weren’t buckled in from the awkward angle you were laying in. You muttered that you were fine, but Sam wasn’t listening, instantly going to wrap up your wrist, and apply a butterfly bandage to your head. You realized Dean wasn’t in the car any longer, and strained to see what was going on outside.

It looked like Dean was talking to a group of people, who were dressed like they were going hiking. They were talking animatedly, and Sam hurried wrapping up your wrist, so you both could get out of the car and investigate. Once he was done, you slipped out of the back seat to a standing position, testing your balance. Sam’s hand never left your lower back, keeping you steady as you walked up to the group.

“How did you blow your tires?” Dean was asking as we approached, a girl with short red hair explaining. “Someone left some barbed wire in the middle of the road.” Dean nodded his head, glancing at Baby and seeing identical barbed wire attached harshly to her front tires.

“I can’t believe someone just dropped it there,” the girl with the long brown hair said with exasperation, throwing her hands in the air.

“Nobody dropped anything.” Another woman stated, coming around the corner. “I just found this tied to a tree back there. Somebody did this.”

“Redneck hospitality at its finest,” the guy in the yellow shirt muttered in response. Dean shifted to put an arm around your shoulder protectively, noticing you standing next to him. He frowned at the bandage on your head and around your wrist, but you waved him off.

“I’m gonna try and find a phone,” the woman with the barbed wire discovery stated. “I think I saw a gas station like a couple miles back.”

“We were just there.” Sam stated, the newcomers turning toward him. “There is no phone.”

“Okay, why don’t we just wait for someone else to come along?” Another woman suggested, glancing from her group members to us.

“What like speed racer here?” The barbwire woman said, pointing at Dean who scowled, pulling you closer to him.

“Look, I’m not going anywhere.” The redhead stated, looking at the guy standing next to her, who must be her boyfriend. “You guys go and we’ll just stay here, Francine.” The new group continued to bicker about Francine and her boyfriend getting high when the woman with the long brown hair walked up to us.

“Hey,” she said. “What’re your names?” She looked genuinely curious.

“Dean,” He replied. “And this is Y/N and Sam.” Dean continued gesturing toward you and his brother. The Winchester’s were having a silent conversation about what to do next when the woman walked up. 

“You guys hurt?” She asked again casually. Sam and Dean shook their heads looking at you, and you did the same.

“Good,” The woman replied. “Then let’s go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You walked along with three members of the other group, who you learned were Jessie, Carly, and her boyfriend Scott. The brothers decided to go along if only to find a phone and call up Cas. The road was flanked by deep woods on either side, giving the bright sunny day a clouded feel, and making you shiver slightly in your plain shirt, Dean reaching back to take your hand, but you brushed him off slightly, knowing he was only worried about you. The boys continued to walk, Sam asking Scott what they were all doing out here, quickly learning that the five of them were camping. Scott was very talkative, launching into a speech about trauma and slow-motion movements, making Dean chuckle lowly. You couldn’t help but be drawn to these people in a way that you haven’t been since meeting the Winchesters and joining them on the road. Scott was infectious, and Carly had a positivity about her that eased the entire group as they walked. Jessie was hard to read, but that made you like her even more, as she seemed to match Dean’s sarcasm and kept everyone on their toes.

You walked with everyone, silently taking it all in when the red and orange glow of a burning fire caught your eyes. You stopped abruptly, Dean following suite, looking up into the woods.

“Hello! Anyone up there!” Scott yelled from next to you. Dean looked at him cautiously, weighing rather to tell him to keep his voice down, when Sam spoke up.

“Somebody must have started it.” You all kept walking, you hanging behind to stare at the fire.

You couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched in those few moments. It made you uneasy, but you chalked it up to the many wild creatures who were sure to be buried in the dense forest.

The feeling didn’t last long, as you trudged quickly up a hill to keep up with the others, a wooden cabin coming into view. Scott and Carly ran up ahead, the brothers and you hanging back, not liking the look of the abandoned cabin.

“Looks like we’ve just been saved kids!” Scott yelled, heading toward the entrance. The cabin was surrounded by cars and looked like the roof was about to cave in.

“We make this quick.” Dean stated to you and Sam, Sam nodding, and reaching back for the gun hidden in his waistband. The land was filled with abandoned rusted cars and random objects, an old bike drawing your attention briefly. Dean approached the door and pulled at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Jessie asked cautiously.

Dean stopped, looking at her questioningly, used to the third degree from you, but not from a stranger.

“We need to see if they have a phone.” You stated quietly.

“And I have to pee.” Carly continued with a whine.

“Okay, but West Virginia and trespassing are not a good mix…” Scott answered trailing off lightly.

“Guys,” Sam started, always the voice of reason. “We have two wrecked cars…” Carly nodded vigorously, and Dean inched the door open further, entering the building.

The place was a complete mess, dust flying around and flies buzzing noisily. There were a few half eaten dinners set on the kitchen table, and a record playing on a phonograph in the corner.

“Okay, who lives here?” Scott asked, panic lacing his voice. “I think we should go.”

Dean continued to look around, Sam and you venturing further into the house while Carly and Scott continued to argue. Scott finally settled down and went to help Carly find a bathroom, opening a door to the side that was filled with random objects. You continued to look stumbling upon stacks of sunglasses and keys, items that made you all the more uneasy.

“Sam,” You whispered. He looked over at you carefully, and you held up some of the keys. “We need to go.” Sam nodded quickly and headed into the kitchen to grab Dean. Suddenly, a truck began to pull up, chains clinking and clanging loudly. You ran to the window and looked out, unsure of what was coming toward you, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around startled and Dean grabbed you roughly around the waist, diving under the nearby bed, taking you with him. You watched as Sam found Scott and Carly and quickly pulled them into another room, just in time for the doors to slam open, and heavy footsteps thud through the entryway.

Read part II here!

[azebike]

Electric Bicycles - The Transport of the Future

Electric bicycles are the transport of the future. We only need to look around us to see that our roads are getting more and more congested with gas guzzling cars while the air that we breath is becoming more polluted by the day. Here are a few good reasons to consider an alternative mode of transport; namely the electric bicycle or E-Bike. electric bike malaysia

The health benefits of cycling rather than driving are obvious but while a lot of us buy bicycles with great intentions, a lot of these end up sitting in the garage gathering dust, just waiting for the ideal day when we can go for a ride. We tend to think of them as purely recreational vehicles, while our cars are for going to work and shopping etc. What if you could ride your bike to work or the shops with a little help from a silent electric motor? Would a less daunting or exhausting ride tempt you to get on your bike and enjoy the fresh air and exercise? Enter the E-Bike. e bike malaysia

E-Bikes are extremely cheap to run. Most E-Bikes can be ridden with pedal power only, with a mixture of pedal with electric power assist, or electric power only, so you can choose the amount of effort you put in. Obviously, the more effort you put in, the less the motor has to do so the battery lasts that much longer between charges. When it does come time to charge up the battery, a good bike would cost around five cents to charge. Compare that to filling up your car or catching public transport!

Congestion and parking. A lot of the trips we make are not very far from home, just a bit too far to walk. If you could jump on an E-bike and get there quickly, quietly and without exhausting yourself on those daunting hills, you would often find that the journey didn't take much longer, if at all, than if you had gone in the car, joined the queues, searched for a park etc etc. Most people have experienced the frustration of joining the ever-growing mass of cars hitting our roads each day. We spend far too long sitting in traffic queues, getting frustrated and angry as we struggle to get to work or the shops. Personally, it takes me 15-20 minutes to drive to work each day and longer to drive home because of the 5 o-clock rush. On my E-Bike it takes 25 minutes each way, no matter what the traffic is like. It's a no-brainer. electric bicycle malaysia

E-Bikes are environmentally friendly. We've all heard the reports of the pollution that is choking our world, and we are constantly reminded about the contribution our petrol and diesel vehicles are making to this soup. Consider how much you contribute to air and noise pollution with your car or bus, and then compare that to the effects of a silent, efficient electric bicycle. Sure, the production of electricity contributes to the pollution of our planet, but to a much lesser extent than our insatiable appetite for the ever-dwindling oil, and these days with more and more countries looking at alternative energy sources like solar etc, it is quite conceivable that your E-Bike could eventually leave virtually zero carbon footprint. You've gotta feel good about that.

[dimension-heroes]

The Combiner Wars Chapter 2

The sky turned black over the diner. On the second floor, the red mech, Airstrike watched an old television. "The Council has announced that a major part of Cybertron is now blocked off due to rioting Combiners. Everyone is unsure how the violence began, but, none know when it is to end." A news reporter announced. (The war torn mech sighed, shoulders slumping deeper into a chair. There were footsteps, and he glanced at it. Slenderwave arrived, walking up to him.

    “Busy watching that show again, aren't you?” Slenderwave asked. (Airstrike sighed, turning off the television) “I'm reminding myself of the reality.” Airstrike grumbled. “We all have loved ones out there Airstrike, their suffering like us.” Slenderwave said. (The war mech got up from his chair, looking down at the orange mech) “You always say that, but, who are you missing?” Airstrike asked. “My cassettes, they've been friends with me since the war.” Slenderwave reminded. (Airstrike nodded, looking at the broken windows.

    Daybreak was resting on a makeshift hammock. His wings moved as he held onto his camera. It was photos of the Combiner that died today. He sighed, placing it down on a shelf before getting out a recording device)

    “Daybreak, day a hundred and thirty five. My team saw a dead Combiner, I took photos, but, it feels wrong to not know their names. We've been fighting for a long time, and it makes me scared that we will never find the Enigma. I'm doing the best I can with this job; took many risks and now I'm stuck. I hope you pay me well for this, because I can't leave empty handed.” Daybreak spoke. (He stopped the recording, subspacing it. Yellow optics glanced at his team.

    Skillet slept on the couch while Diode rested on the floor, a few blankets covered his bulky frame. Slenderwave and Airstrike slept upstairs, right above the Seeker and his hammock. The photographer closed his optics, trying to sleep.

    The sun rose, letting light enter the building. Skillet opened his optics, standing up to face the light. He knelt down, shaking the other green member) “Diode.” Skillet called. (The mech grumbled, pulling the blankets over his helm) “Let me sleep.” Diode groaned. “I know some breakfast will change that.” Skillet chuckled. (He walked past the sleeping war mech, returning to the main kitchen and opening a few packets.

    Daybreak lifted his helm upon hearing the noises. His tanks grumbled; another busy day ahead of them. He stepped off his hammock and climbed down the pile of chairs. The photographer grabbed his camera and walked into the dining room.

    Skillet was hard at work making Energon eggs and bacon. Empty powder packs lied nearby as he heard a yawn. The leader looked, finding Daybreak facing him) “You're up early.” Skillet stated. “Yeah, was going to go out for a bit to take photos.” Daybreak explained. “You'll only find ruins, save the battery life Day.” Skillet huffed. “I know your right, but, what else am I to take pictures of?” Daybreak asked. “You could always take photos of our lives. It would show that it isn't all Energon flying everywhere.” Skillet said. (The Seeker nodded, getting his camera and taking photos of Skillet cooking.

    On the second floor of the restaurant, a red visor came online. Slenderwave got up from his makeshift berth. He looked around his room. Old arcade machines that stopped functioning years ago filled the room. He sighed, getting out of his room. The mech found Airstrike sleeping on the couch, rather than a nearby berth) “Old mechs, they sleep wherever they want to.” Slenderwave sighed. (He walked past the mech and down the stairs.

    He found Skillet handing out plates of Energon eggs to Daybreak and Diode. The Seeker turned his helm, his camera aimed at the eggs) “Morning Slender, how did you sleep?” Daybreak asked. “Decent. So, having something special?” Slenderwave asked. “Yes, we've done a lot, its best we enjoy this.” Skillet smiled. (Daybreak took a few photos before his camera stopped. He sighed, looking at his device) “Another card full.” Daybreak huffed. (He left the table and came up to a box near his hammock and inspected the contents. A bunch of cards moved around inside. Daybreak took his camera off and opened the machine.

    Batteries glowed inside, still at full power. He glanced at the others, still eating their meals. The Seeker smiled, getting out a chip from his camera and replacing it with a new one) “Daybreak, are you done?” Diode asked. “Yeah, ready to take more photos!” Daybreak replied. (He ran back to the others, stuffing his face with eggs. Skillet shook his helm) “Slow down, you don't want your cockpit jammed with eggs.” Skillet chuckled. “Ah, sorry guys, we've got to go!” Daybreak replied. (He placed his fork down and walked away from the others. His camera bouncing off his neck.

    Shoving the door, he looked to see more ruins. He rose his camera, taking photos of the rising sun. Wings moved as his systems came to life. Bright yellow optics focused on the glow of hope. Airstrike walked up to the Seeker, tapping his wing. The Seeker turned his helm, lowering the picture taker) “Careful, we can't have anyone seeing you by yourself.” Airstrike stated. (The Seeker shook his helm) “I know, but no one else would want to come to this place unless a map led them here.” Daybreak sighed. (He looked around before stepping back to the diner) “Know where the next tablet will lead us too?” Airstrike asked. “Yep, I need to get it and then we'll be on our way.” Daybreak said. (Both entered and saw the other three getting prepared.

    A few vehicles drove onto a long road, dust kicked up underneath their tires. It would be a long trip; Daybreak and Airstrike flew above the tanks and car) “Back to the daily routine.” Airstrike grumbled. “Calm down, we hit a bump in the road yesterday, but it won't happen again!” Daybreak chimed. “Lets hope.” Airstrike sighed. (They continued moving, reaching closer to a small town.

    All came up to the sight of a town. One far abandoned since the war. Daybreak got out his camera, taking a few photos) “Nothing's changed here since I last saw it.” Daybreak sighed. “It seems this war preserved it, how ironic.” Skillet replied. “Daybreak, the tablet.” Diode chimed. “Yeah, I've got it here.” Daybreak smiled. (He got out the piece of metal and inspected it. He pondered a bit before walking up to a fountain) “Do I need to break it?” Airstrike asked. “Its best you do that before more mechs come in and cause trouble.” Daybreak answered. (The bulky red mech punched the rusted fountain, letting dust and a tablet pour out. Diode picked it up) “Another clue, or dead end. I'm getting sick of these games!” Diode yelled. (The others stepped back as Skillet rose his arms) “We cannot determine which tablet has the true map. If we all knew which one was the true map, then we'd find more dead than alive.” Skillet replied. (The bulky green mech's armor loosened up, exhaling while Daybreak took the tablet) “That's pretty easy.” Daybreak said. (Slenderwave came closer to the Seeker) “Listen.” Slenderwave whispered. (All became silent, hearing the clanking of metal as figures emerged.

    Another Combiner team, they glared at them, noticing the tablet in Daybreak's servo. The largest of the group came up, Skillet pushing the Seeker away) “You found what we want.” The mech hissed. “Listen, we must get these tablets to ensure that the Combiners will continue to exist.” Skillet replied. “Lies! We know you want to be king! Everyone craves the power, get in line for we know others are after it!” The mech yelled. (Daybreak stepped further away, Diode getting close to him) “Its always this.” Daybreak sighed. “We must fight, its the sole option.” Diode growled. (The blue mech nodded, subspacing the tablet as the mechs attacked.

    Skillet gripped his frying pan, slamming it into a mech's faceplates. He hissed before it came down upon him again. Daybreak's Light Rays came online, firing beams of aurora lights. One of the attackers moved away, shooting back at the Seeker. He transformed into a jet, flying overhead while shooting. Diode and Airstrike held their guns, shooting back at the larger mech of the group. Slenderwave stood near Skillet, his guitar out to produce soundwaves towards the limbs. All five members of the opposing team stepped back, their armor shifting to combine. Skillet and the others huddled together, combining as well to Prologue. The unknown Combiner struck first, hitting Daybreak who was the arm. Prologue punched the mech with his other fist, kicking away the Combiner. Both clashed, tearing the town apart. Prologue kicked the mech's stomach, sending forth explosions from his heel. The unknown Combiner fell, falling apart and a tablet slid towards Prologue. They decombined as Daybreak picked up the tablet) “Another one.” Daybreak said. (The opposing team transformed and fled, leaving the group to do the same. Daybreak stepped into Airstrike as the group moved on.

    The Seeker looked through the tablets) “I'm unsure about this.” Daybreak paused. “Something bothering you?” Airstrike asked. “Diode's words are getting to me.” Daybreak replied. “Loosen up Morning, we still have our lives and processors. That's the best we can have at this point.” Airstrike answered. (Daybreak's wings drooped) “I hope these tablets can get us closer.” Daybreak said. “Same here.” Airstrike huffed. He continued to move across the wasteland. A mission finished, yet began anew.

[desdemonafictional]

still slowly working my way through the amnesia!universe

Jack rises to the Sunday morning light outside Bruce’s wide window, knowing that he can’t go home like this. His home will swallow him alive. Instead, he moves quietly through the mansion, laying new eyes on the endless hallways, some of them familiar, some of them not. He inspects every photograph, of which there are precious few. The one of Bruce with the little black-haired boy. Grayson, Jack now assumes. The enormous portrait of the late Waynes, overlooking the parlor with ghostly benevolence. He spends a long time considering Martha Wayne’s mysterious little smile. He feels that she knows something, something sad. The kind of sad that you just have to laugh at.

It must be a pain to dust in here. The old boy’s not as spry as he used to be. Why don’t they hire a maid to do all that, it’s not as if they don’t have the money. Right?

Jack runs his hands over the cool marble skull of some philosopher he’ll almost certainly never be able to name. His fingers itch too, now, with the same suppressed panic that has been building in him for a day now. What is he looking for? Will he know it when he finds it?

Underneath the splashes of new life in this room, there are the dusty underpinnings of the Bruce who lived here before the accident. Delicate velvety bodies of bats pinned underneath glass, wings splayed for analysis. Obscure texts by long dead scientists. Jack looks again to the Mona Lisa smile of Martha Wayne, searching for some answer in her spectral face. The Bruce of before strikes him as a kind of Byronic figure, pacing the walls of this gloomy parlor. He grows monolithic and strange in his seclusion. His sadness. Jack can imagine where that sadness might come from. Maybe there’s nothing behind Bruce but this sadness.

He lifts his fingers. Maybe he is imagining it all. A cold uncertainty runs through him, as he overlooks the room. Maybe all he’s sensing is his own guilt crystalizing between them, growing stronger with each person who seems to know more about him than he knows about himself. He drops into the chair behind the desk, groaning, and spins absently.

As he drifts to a stop, he spots a business card wedged underneath one of the eccentric little paperweights. It’s Kent’s. He’s a journalist, Jack knows now, which explains how he knew just the wrong things to say. As he picks it up, Jack eyes the half-open door to the parlor. Bruce clearly didn’t want him involved in whatever Kent is investigating, but every instinct is screaming at him that these things are one and the same—Bruce’s secrets, his vague warnings, Kent’s connection to them both.

Jack pockets the card before he can convince himself not to, and quickly leaves the parlor behind.

What he really needs to check out, he decides, are those R&D documents that Bruce is so obsessed with lately. Jack has always suspected there is something lurking beneath the surface of Wayne Enterprises. It’s time to see the face of it.

-x-

It’s remarkably difficult to get his hands on those documents, as it turns out. Bruce is pleasant but firm about confidentiality, and he never leaves them unattended on the table or in an unlocked drawer. The more Jack tries to get close to them, the more he realizes that Bruce is actively guarding them. After being thwarted for the umpteenth time, Jack gives up for the day and wanders out of Bruce’s office entirely. He hardly notices that he’s made it to the elevator until he’s already on it. He studies the grid of buttons for a moment, first blindly and then with dawning interest. What if he….

Jack hits the button for the basement, and then rides the long trip down to R&D in a nervous fit. He has no idea what he’s doing.

The hallway down here is sparse, when he steps off the elevator. They don’t have the marble fixings of the office floor or the stylish steel minimalism of the lab floors. It’s just a hallway, concrete and florescent lights, and at the end of it: a door.

Jack presses his hand against the scanner, but no dice. Down here there’s not even a retinal, which is kind of weird. From the way Bruce was handling those documents, Jack expected high security. Could it be something as simple as embezzlement hiding in those papers, nothing truly strange or unusual at all? He couldn’t get square with the idea. There was something in his bones that wouldn’t let him rest.

As he was tapping at the pad, looking for any buttons he could fuck around with, the elevator slid open and revealed the shape of Lucius Fox, in the process of tugging his lab coat on.

“Oh,” Lucius says. He comes down the hall at a brisk but unworried pace, hands in his pockets. “Mr… Ah, Jack, wasn’t it?

Jack waves at him. “Lucius, buddy, how are you?”

“Living on caffeine, same as always,” Lucius says. He seems a little taken aback at the familiar address, but he rallies quickly. Jack wants to apologize for the misstep, actually, but Lucius rallies so quickly there’s no good place to do it, so Jack just… keeps smiling. You can’t go wrong with a smile.

“What brings you down here?” Lucius says.

Jack glances up. “Bruce is driving me home,” he says. And then, hit with a burst of inspiration, “But it feels like I’m underfoot today, so I thought I’d take a walk around and make myself scarce. You have a second to give as guy a tour?” Lucius looks at him. Looks at him hard, and Jack is becoming suddenly aware of how suspicious he must sound when Lucius gives him a shrug and plants his hand over the scanner.

“Alright,” Lucius says. “I don’t have a whole lot of time to squeeze you in, but you can have a look around if you like.”

The door rolls back to show something that reminds Jack, inanely, of a tire store. It’s got that rubber and grease smell, a room that looks darker than it is, light bouncing off the metal edges of cases all around. Jack darts into the thick of it before he can think twice, circling a display case at the center of the room which glows with blue electronic lights, a tower of folded metal behind glass.

“Ah,” Lucius says, somewhere behind him, “the turbine battery. Just the prototype, of course. The first gen model is on display at a conference in Europe at the moment….”

Lucius says it in a particular hanging sort of way, like maybe he’s waiting for Jack to ask more questions about it. But Jack wouldn’t even know where to start, and anyways he’s distracted by an actual tire on display at the back wall, over the sprawling holographic presentation table (which he ignores).

The treads are deep enough to hide several fingers and the circumference is enough to sit an eighteen-wheeler on, and there’s something elegant about the shape of it all that fills Jack with a delightful déjà vu. He runs his fingers over the swoop and curve of the treads. The display shelf is on eye level with him, and when he looks up into it like this, he can almost feel—

“That one’s a bit of a relic,” Lucius observes. “Military tech moves fast. That model is already obsolete.”

Jack traces the outline of a tred. “It was on the batmobile, wasn’t it,” he murmurs.

There’s a change in the air. It only lasts a second, but it startles Jack out of his revere. He draws back his hand like he’s afraid the rubber will burn him. When he turns back to Lucius to apologize, though, Lucius looks the same as ever. “I don’t see how it could have been,” the man says, hands in the pockets of his lab coats.

“Right,” Jack says quickly, “sure, my mistake. I’ve never even seen the batmobile.”

Lucius gives him a strange look. “What are you interested in?” he asks, leaning against the projection table. “I could give you a pinpoint tour, if you don’t mind being in and out pretty quick.”

Jack furrows his brows, puzzling it over. “What, uh,” he says, “what is Bruce interested in?”

Lucius considers him for a moment, and then he crooks a finger for Jack to follow. He bustles over to a stacked shelf and digs out a scale model of a monorail car, which fills his arms like a big cat as he lifts it. “Bruce is always most interested in the city improvement projects,” Lucius says.

Jack takes it into his arms like it really is a big animal, warm with affection for his boyfriend. Again he thinks to himself, how could I have doubted him? What was I expecting?

“Do you have a background in engineering?” Lucius asks, as he reaches over and flicks the switch to make the little motor run. The wheels chug right along. “Not a bit,” Jack says, poking at the wheels. “Couldn’t wire my way out of a locked car.”

“Not even a car? You seemed pretty familiar with the x29 tred.”

Jack pauses, in the middle of flicking the little model doors open and closed. “I dunno what I was thinking there. I just thought I remembered seeing it before.”

“Maybe some other military vehicle,” Lucius suggests. “We sold a lot of them five or six years back.”

“Maybe,” Jack says, thinking that the closest he’d ever been to a military vehicle was being kidnapped by Scylla and Charibdis months before. And he had no idea what that car looked like, because he’d been blindfolded.

No, the more he thinks about it, the more certain he is. He almost definitely remembers looking up into that tread pattern, like maybe—like maybe he was on the ground? Like maybe it almost ran him over? But the memory isn’t scary. It’s more like a happy memory. Like a Christmas morning memory. Not that he has any of those to compare it to.

“Anything else I can show you?” Lucius asks, which is funny because he’d seemed a lot more hesitant standing at the door five minutes ago.

Jack looks up at the ceiling, at the projector table, at the door to the back room. He feels kind of stupid for bothering Lucius now. How would he know what he was looking for in here, even if he found it?

“I’m good,” he says. “Thanks for your time, Bubala. I know you got work to do.” Lucius takes the model from his arms when he offers it, and puts it away. “You know Bruce has had a fair number of girlfriends over the years,” he remarks, 

“but you’re the first person to come down here in the flesh.”

“Huh,” Jack says. “You’d think they woulda taken more of an interest.”

“Bruce knows which kinds of people take an interest,” Lucius says, with a meaningful look over his glasses.

“Yeah?” Jack says, nonplussed.

“Bruce might seem like a carefree spoiled sap,” Lucius says, “but he knows more than people think.”

“You sure you’re allowed to call your boss spoiled?” Jack says, uneasily.

“Come back any time,” Lucius says, pressing the button to open the heavy door. “But don’t expect to find anything.”

Jack inches out the door, not quite sure what direction this conversation has derailed in.

“And next time?” Lucius says. “Get a guest pass.”

The door slides shut.

[scripturienss]

Interstellar

Title: Interstellar on FF.net Rating: G Genre: Drama/Sci-fi Prompt: Fantasy & Sci-fi AU because two is better than one, or so goes the old adagio. Word Count: 2,201

You're so down to earth and I'm up in the stars, So show me the sea and I'll take you to Mars.

CS1: OK. The fuel is go; about 1 ½ g's; cabin pressure is just coming off the peg; the O2 is go; we have 26 amps.

CS2: Roger. Pitch 88, the trajectory is good.

CS3: Roger, looks good here.

CS1: OK, there. We're starting to pick up a little bit of the noise and vibration; not bad, though, at all. 50 secs., more vibration.

CS2: Whenever you're ready, de-pressurize the cabin and exit the vehicle. Your trajectory is marked, you only need to find the probe and change its solar panel.

MW0: Roger. Readings are good, pressure is OK. I'm making my way to the Rover.

CS3: I'm picking up some static on my line.

CS2: Roger. Mine too. Ishida, do you copy us?

MW0: Barely. You're breaking up a little - check the transmission engine and long range receptors.

CS1: It could have something to do with recent solar flares - the magnetic fields mess up reception sometime.

CS3: Roger. We're re-starting the system, don't be alarmed for a few minutes silence and don't lose visual.

MW0: Roger.

There's static on his line and suddenly, there's only silence. It has been 163 days since Ishida Yamato arrived at the International Space Station, roughly at the same time the H-II Transfer Vehicle Kōnotori, and this is his first time walking the moon's surface.

CS1: Ishida, I reconnected to check in on you. It'll be half an hour at least before we can make contact again.

CS1: Do you copy?

MW0: Roger. I'm sorry, the view ... it's really something else.

CS1: [chuckles] Roger. Don't stray from course, you're doing fine.

Space is terrifying. It's vast, unimaginably so, and darker than anything Yamato has ever seen. Working outside the station is always a humbling and terrifying experience, being tethered to something solid only through a limited band, but walking over the moon is an entirely different sort of scary. He can see the maria in the distance, the tides preserved by what was once volcanic lava. His breath hitches and it sounds incredibly loud in his over-sensitized ears.

It's dark, his path illuminated only by the hi-tech lantern on his helmet, the Rover he occupies and the stars above.

Yamato speaks into his recorder:

"Ishida Yamato, hour 14:06 Earth-time. I'm on my way South of the Earth's moon. I have been assigned to recharge and repair the Moon Impact Probe. We anticipate SELENE's Kaguya will orbit around the same time and have arranged for a possible check-up. Communication with the Space Station is down. The silence is ... " A twinkle catches his eye and he pauses, blinking fast. "Overwhelming."

.

.

15:22 Earth-time.

"It's been little under an hour and a half and Command hasn't checked in. Transmission is grainy at best, interference is impossible to deal with. Mission's course remains true."

He can hear himself talk, like a recorder, and it feels like a caricature of sorts. The technical details of his expedition are important but so is the overwhelming terror of being utterly alone. He can hear himself breathe, clear and loud and when he's thinking about this, he is deafened by the sound of his own pulse. Rationally, he understands that this is routinary and that many others have done it before him; the risks are too low to be considered a real liability. Fear isn't rational though, and Yamato has to pause for a moment before continuing his slow trek.

.

.

17:49 Earth-time.

"It has been three hours and forty-three minutes since Command's last communication. I arrived safely at Lunar Station 00, data is downloading for revision on the ISS and reparations for the solar panels should be done in little over an hour. It's grown darker but there are sporadic bursts of bright light. I suspect solar flare activity is picking up and remain wary of exposure. Must've been what damaged the panels..."

He turns off the microphone and looks outside the window. The Lunar Station 00 is a small laboratory facility installed upon the moon's surface as a safe-house for astronauts on repair or reconnaissance missions. It also collects all data pertaining lunar activity and is continuously feeding both the International Space Station and several other international agencies back on Earth. It is not a manned post and as such, it is not equipped to harbour guests for more than a few hours of hard work. There are emergency supplies, batteries, oxygen tanks and a special command button that can only be accessed through individual codes in case of a red alert. Yamato needs only to plug in his coordinates and update the travel log. He's almost done when he sees it.

In the horizon, a sharp beam of light flashes and then disappears. He stands abruptly and immediately takes his equipment, double-checks the seals on his suits and the vaccum entry and emerges into the inhospitable surface once more. The low gravity is tenuous at best and moving as easily as he did on Earth is difficult but Yamato is very quick. As he steps in behind a boulder and in front of the source, blinking fast, he holds up one hand and on the other, a laser heat gun.

"What the..."

The thing shines brightly, contained in unspecific, ever-changing shapes but he cannot determine an exact source. There hasn't been anything like this in any of the logs, nothing indicating any sort of sentient activity. Yamato stops, riled at the invasive thought of sentient life. He takes a deep breath, willing his heart-rate down because he can't hear anything and there's a strange sort of ringing in his ears, like wind-chimes in a spring breeze. Yamato's teeth are grinding hard and his jaw feels sore and tense.

The ringing in his ears intensifies and it sounds like—,

—laughter.

.

.

18:25 Earth-time.

"I'm going to approach the object for samples."

The sounds are jarring at times, like an out-of-tune old radio transmitter and the source of light appears to be solid and then liquid. When he steps outside the boulder, the ringing stops and he swears he hears a gasp. He approaches the source of light slowly but firmly and when he's close enough, the sight stuns him.

It's a woman, or something that looks vaguely like one. Yamato's voice fails him and he can only gape, mute, as the creature rises from the crater-like surface with surprising ease. Her body is made of what appears to be pure light, shimmery and insubstantial. There is no depth to its proportions, he can see right through it as it—she, approaches.

He thinks, this is how I die, but his body reacts quicker than his mind.

"State your purpose and origin," he hears himself say, despite the absolute improbability of the situation. The light that comes from within this being burns bright enough to force his eyes shut and when he opens them, it is already gone.

There is no evidence whatsoever of what he believes he saw. The camera shows nothing but blank space and dust and his microphone picks up no signal but his own voice. He knows he can't delay his return to the station and so he returns to the base and finishes the work he was sent to do. He flexes his fingers consciously in an effort to will some warmth back into them.

"It's the silence," he reasons. "It's driving me crazy."

The trek back is quiet, as quick as he dares to move away from this lonely, inhospitable place. He can see already the ship and releases a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

.

.

There is a crack in the static and the light turns green.

CS1: Commander Ishida, do you copy? I repeat, Commander Ishida, do you copy?

MW0: Roger. This is Commander Ishida.

CS1: Oh, thank fuck. Sorry there, MS Young.

CS2: Mind your language, MS Hughes. Commander, what's your status?

MW0: Stable, on route back to the capsule. I should be back at the space station within two hours.

CS1: Roger. Any novelty at the base?

MW0: [pause]

MW0: Nothing to report, sir.

CS2: We'll fill you in on your way back, Commander. Good job.

MW0: Roger, I look forward to it.

CS1: Roger. We'll see you soon, lucky dog.

Yamato wonders at that expression as he listlessly follows the procedure and way back into the ship that will take him to the station. His colleagues are at a loss for an explanation on why the devices failed and so all exploratory missions are halted until they reach a satisfactory answer.

Lucky, he thinks.

.

.

Some nights, he dreams about a being made of light with eyes as fierce as the sun. Some nights he comes to her in his dreams, so close he can touch her shimmery hair and bathe in the tinkling sound of her laughter. Once, he swore their lips touched. Most nights though, he only watches her from afar and when the song is over, he shakes his head and in the nanoseconds it takes him to realize he wants to see her up close, she has already disappeared.

Tonight is one of such nights, at least until his eyes fly open and he is met with a look of pure, molten gold.

"What are you doing here?"

You were calling for me.

"I was?"

In your sleep.

Yamato shifts, sitting on his bed with his arm dangling just off his knee. He peers curiously at her, wary as his hand darts out to touch her.

"Just what are you?"

She is proud, he learns, and a little vain. Up close she looks more like a woman than ever, or an echo of one with gleaming, translucent skin. The light she casts is paler now, hurts less to see her and he wonders briefly if this is for his sake. But she moves swiftly, just out of his fingers' reach and her laughter is all around him once again.

What am I? I am ... light. Stardust and cosmic energy.

.

.

Yamato isn't an unreasonable person. He knows he needs to address the issue of his hallucinations sooner rather than later and briefly considers looking for counseling when he goes back home. He is almost at the end of his mission and the thought of returning to Earth looms dauntingly in the back of his mind.

He lies on the floor, the cold material against his over-heated, over-sensitized skin keeps him grounded. She hovers above him, a mirror of his position though her expression seems to be amused and teasing. His eyes travel involuntarily (or perhaps less so) down her translucent body, lower than her waist where ribbons of light form what he can only think of as a long gown or a fish's tail.

"What is your name?"

Men have called me many things before. It's all the same to me.

He has never been a particularly keen conversationalist and his approach is objective and precise. She answers both freely and lavishly and seems to be more curious of his questions rather than him, as she so very rarely asks.

"Do you know my name?"

I have glimpsed it.

"Can you say it?"

Here, she hesitates.

I don't know how.

It seems only natural to kiss her. He reaches towards her, supporting himself on his forearms and elbows and she doesn't react at first, so he continues until his lips touch hers. He had expected everything but the soft sensation of lips, something warm and wet and soft. Yamato feels his chest swell and when he draws back, her eyes, clearer now, are wide open.

"It's Yamato," he says.

And for the first time, like a song dispelled, she murmurs, "Yamato."

.

.

He wakes up on his own bed, alone. His memory of last night's dream is blurry, too bright in some places and completely dark in others. He shifts as he prepares for his last day on this mission. He will be boarding the Soyuz within hours with two other colleagues and within four orbits, will land somewhere in the grassy plains of Kazakhstan. It'll be a few more days before he's cleared to leave to Japan, too.

Instinctively, he touches his lips and isn't entirely surprised when his fingers are coated by a thin film of fine, glittery dust. On Earth, she will be an old, blurry memory, a cold lump of rock that once carried the secrets of stars.

"Wait for me, Mimi-san."

Notes: I was a little stuck and then got very busy, but I have every intention of finishing this small collection. A few things to consider about this one:

1. The dialogue is actually at least partially faithful. I was inspired after reading some transcripts for the Apollo Mission disasters.

2. Did you know there aren't very many stories about space mermaids? It was the original concept.

3. I'm tempted to actually write this story but for the purposes of this collection, this was a good place to stop.

[preciousmetals0]

Maniacs on the Trading Floor; Tesla’s Not Shocking Anymore

Maniacs on the Trading Floor; Tesla’s Not Shocking Anymore:

Sucking the Marrow out of Wall Street

Today, dear readers, we’re going to talk about mania — Wall Street’s mania.

From Virgin Galactic Holdings Inc. (NYSE: SPCE) to Tesla Inc. (Nasdaq: TSLA), investors have pushed stock valuations to the breaking point and beyond. In fact, Bank of America Corp. (NYSE: BAC) recently declared that — based on the price/earnings to growth ratio — stocks are more overvalued right now than they have been since the 1980s.

Cue the Flashdance montage. (She’s a maniac, maniac on the trading floor. And she’s trading like she’s never traded before.)

These truly are manic times on Wall Street. When Virgin Galactic — a company with no earnings or revenue — surges threefold in less than two months … when stocks push toward record highs despite the fallen canary in the corner…

Mike O’Rourke, the chief market strategist at Jones Trading, blames this mania on several issues. Zero-commission brokers, forced index buying, FOMO from fund managers and the Federal Reserve’s QE (that’s totally not QE) are the real culprits contributing to Wall Street’s mania.

“The bottom line is there is no respect for risk in the equity market and mania is not indefinitely sustainable, there is no permanently high plateau,” O’Rourke wrote in a note this week.

The question is: When the market has no respect for risk, then what’s the difference between speculation and investing?

The Takeaway:

The difference between speculation and investing, dear readers, is a fine line to walk.

Identifying pure speculation is easy. Virgin Galactic is the very definition of manic speculation. The company has no earnings or revenue, and its “space travel” service reaches only the bare minimum of Webster’s definition of “space.”

And yet, SPCE has surged more than 300% in 2020. That is speculation, plain and simple.

But what about Tesla? Yes, there’s some speculation in there, as analysts continue to boost price targets (more on that later!) amid exceedingly ridiculous revenue and sales projections.

But Tesla has revenue. It has earnings. It has a product with projected demand — demand reinforced by world governments mandating the death of the combustion engine.

Beyond Meat Inc. (Nasdaq: BYND) is another example of this fine line. The company has earnings. It has revenue. Its products have a voracious following in a social/environmental trend that shows little signs of stopping.

But BYND shares trading at 282 times forward earnings? That’s just silly.

That said, we can sit back and make fun of these ridiculous valuations, point fingers and decry rampant market speculation … or we can profit from this mania! (Just remember to devote a respectable portion of your investments to preparing for the worst, as I warned yesterday.)

We have some time before Wall Street realizes just how bad the fallout will be from rampant speculation and the COVID-19 virus. Since we’re not at the top yet, let’s get right to sucking the remaining marrow out of this bull market.

And I can think of no one better to guide you toward better investment research than Mr. True Momentum himself … Banyan Hill expert Paul Mampilly.

His nearly three-decade investing career is the stuff of legends. (For instance, Barron’s named his former hedge fund as one of the “world’s best,” with Kiplinger ranking it in the top 1%.)

I mean, the man’s recommendations have turned up top gains of 185% … even 393%.

Early next week, Paul plans to send a brand-new trade opportunity to his True Momentum subscribers. That said, your best chance to join True Momentum before this recommendation goes live ends on Monday, February 24.

Click here to learn about Paul’s True Momentum.

Good: Nothing’s Shocking

All right … back to a bit of speculation. Piper Sandler Cos. (NYSE: PIPR) analyst Alexander Potter piled onto the Tesla bull train this morning.

Now, there’s nothing shocking about Potter’s target boost to $928 from $729 or his bullish outlook on Tesla electric vehicles (EVs). That’s all par for the course with every bullish Tesla analyst.

What’s shocking is that Potter apparently realizes that there’s more to Tesla than just cars. As part of his bullish note to clients, Potter cited the company’s SolarCity unit, its battery storage business and its network of EV charging stations.

As a result, TSLA jumped roughly 10% today, putting the stock dangerously close to the $1,000 mark. I say “dangerously” close because $1,000 is the next surge point for the stock. More than 16% of Tesla’s float remains sold short.

That’s about 22.7 million shorted shares that could squeeze if Tesla pops north of $1,000. These remaining shorts are some strong holdouts, given the stock’s run so far this year. But even they have their breaking point, and $1,000 could be it.

Better: Garmin … Wait, Garmin?

I have to admit … I had lumped Garmin Ltd. (Nasdaq: GRMN) in with Fitbit Inc. (NYSE: FIT) as merely a product and not a company. Boy, was I wrong…

Today, GRMN shares surged to a decade high, after the company released much better-than-expected fourth-quarter financials. Earnings topped expectations by $0.15 per share. Revenue spiked 18% to beat Wall Street’s estimates, and operating margins rose to 25.1% to top consensus targets.

Garmin also boosted its 2020 forecast, saying it expects revenue of $4 billion on earnings of $4.60 per share. The figures left Wall Street’s expectations for sales of $2.84 billion and earnings of $4.34 per share in the dust.

The company, it seems, is succeeding where Fitbit failed, as fitness and wearables revenue spiked 34%. But Garmin is no one-trick pony. Aviation and marine revenue rose 22%, and outdoor revenue climbed 16%.

If you weren’t taking Garmin seriously before — like yours truly — now’s the time to add it to your watch list. Maybe consider a position when the stock finally calms down after today’s post-earnings surge.

Best: Totally Not Speculation

The company we’re about to talk about is one of the solar energy sector’s best-kept secrets.

Enphase Energy Inc. (Nasdaq: ENPH) doesn’t make solar panels or photovoltaic cells. It makes power converters … and not the ones you were whining about going to Tosche Station to buy.

These are semiconductor-based microinverters that monitor, regulate and control power generated by solar panels. And they’re required on every single solar panel — i.e., you need multiple Enphase converters for each solar power installation.

It turns out, this means robust sales for Enphase Energy as solar panels gain in popularity. This morning, the company said that earnings literally skyrocketed 875% year over year to $0.39 per share — beating Wall Street’s view by 18.2%. Revenue spiked 119.8% to $210 million, also blowing past the consensus estimate.

If that wasn’t enough, Enphase set guidance for second-quarter revenue of $200 million to $210 million. Wall Street was anticipating a more subdued $171.7 million.

Now, before you go bask in the sun with ENPH, the shares surged an astounding 40% in early trading today. If you want in on this hidden gem in the solar industry … I’d advise waiting for today’s enthusiasm to settle down a bit.

Last week’s poll results are in … and you guys love Great Stuff: Picks!

We asked: “What topics do you like reading in Great Stuff?”

More than 38% of you voted for “stock recommendations.” I’m glad to hear that, and I hope Great Stuff’s picks are working out well for you! That’s what I’m here for, after all. Well … that and the memes.

Economic news was the next most popular topic, with “I’m just here for the memes” bringing up the rear at 11%. Don’t worry, meme lovers: My sarcasm isn’t going anywhere.

This week, we’re talking options!

Are they scary things to avoid? Or are you interested in learning more about options?

Stay tuned: Eventually (when you’re ready), I’ll unveil Great Stuff’s hidden secrets to using options volatility to your advantage!

So, are you an options fiend or an options beginner? Let us know in this week’s poll:

Finally, don’t forget to check out Great Stuff on social media. If you can’t get enough meme-y goodness, follow Great Stuff on Facebook and Twitter.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Editor, Great Stuff

[goldira01]

Sucking the Marrow out of Wall Street

Today, dear readers, we’re going to talk about mania — Wall Street’s mania.

From Virgin Galactic Holdings Inc. (NYSE: SPCE) to Tesla Inc. (Nasdaq: TSLA), investors have pushed stock valuations to the breaking point and beyond. In fact, Bank of America Corp. (NYSE: BAC) recently declared that — based on the price/earnings to growth ratio — stocks are more overvalued right now than they have been since the 1980s.

Cue the Flashdance montage. (She’s a maniac, maniac on the trading floor. And she’s trading like she’s never traded before.)

These truly are manic times on Wall Street. When Virgin Galactic — a company with no earnings or revenue — surges threefold in less than two months … when stocks push toward record highs despite the fallen canary in the corner…

Mike O’Rourke, the chief market strategist at Jones Trading, blames this mania on several issues. Zero-commission brokers, forced index buying, FOMO from fund managers and the Federal Reserve’s QE (that’s totally not QE) are the real culprits contributing to Wall Street’s mania.

“The bottom line is there is no respect for risk in the equity market and mania is not indefinitely sustainable, there is no permanently high plateau,” O’Rourke wrote in a note this week.

The question is: When the market has no respect for risk, then what’s the difference between speculation and investing?

The Takeaway:

The difference between speculation and investing, dear readers, is a fine line to walk.

Identifying pure speculation is easy. Virgin Galactic is the very definition of manic speculation. The company has no earnings or revenue, and its “space travel” service reaches only the bare minimum of Webster’s definition of “space.”

And yet, SPCE has surged more than 300% in 2020. That is speculation, plain and simple.

But what about Tesla? Yes, there’s some speculation in there, as analysts continue to boost price targets (more on that later!) amid exceedingly ridiculous revenue and sales projections.

But Tesla has revenue. It has earnings. It has a product with projected demand — demand reinforced by world governments mandating the death of the combustion engine.

Beyond Meat Inc. (Nasdaq: BYND) is another example of this fine line. The company has earnings. It has revenue. Its products have a voracious following in a social/environmental trend that shows little signs of stopping.

But BYND shares trading at 282 times forward earnings? That’s just silly.

That said, we can sit back and make fun of these ridiculous valuations, point fingers and decry rampant market speculation … or we can profit from this mania! (Just remember to devote a respectable portion of your investments to preparing for the worst, as I warned yesterday.)

We have some time before Wall Street realizes just how bad the fallout will be from rampant speculation and the COVID-19 virus. Since we’re not at the top yet, let’s get right to sucking the remaining marrow out of this bull market.

And I can think of no one better to guide you toward better investment research than Mr. True Momentum himself … Banyan Hill expert Paul Mampilly.

His nearly three-decade investing career is the stuff of legends. (For instance, Barron’s named his former hedge fund as one of the “world’s best,” with Kiplinger ranking it in the top 1%.)

I mean, the man’s recommendations have turned up top gains of 185% … even 393%.

Early next week, Paul plans to send a brand-new trade opportunity to his True Momentum subscribers. That said, your best chance to join True Momentum before this recommendation goes live ends on Monday, February 24.

Click here to learn about Paul’s True Momentum.

Good: Nothing’s Shocking

All right … back to a bit of speculation. Piper Sandler Cos. (NYSE: PIPR) analyst Alexander Potter piled onto the Tesla bull train this morning.

Now, there’s nothing shocking about Potter’s target boost to $928 from $729 or his bullish outlook on Tesla electric vehicles (EVs). That’s all par for the course with every bullish Tesla analyst.

What’s shocking is that Potter apparently realizes that there’s more to Tesla than just cars. As part of his bullish note to clients, Potter cited the company’s SolarCity unit, its battery storage business and its network of EV charging stations.

As a result, TSLA jumped roughly 10% today, putting the stock dangerously close to the $1,000 mark. I say “dangerously” close because $1,000 is the next surge point for the stock. More than 16% of Tesla’s float remains sold short.

That’s about 22.7 million shorted shares that could squeeze if Tesla pops north of $1,000. These remaining shorts are some strong holdouts, given the stock’s run so far this year. But even they have their breaking point, and $1,000 could be it.

Better: Garmin … Wait, Garmin?

I have to admit … I had lumped Garmin Ltd. (Nasdaq: GRMN) in with Fitbit Inc. (NYSE: FIT) as merely a product and not a company. Boy, was I wrong…

Today, GRMN shares surged to a decade high, after the company released much better-than-expected fourth-quarter financials. Earnings topped expectations by $0.15 per share. Revenue spiked 18% to beat Wall Street’s estimates, and operating margins rose to 25.1% to top consensus targets.

Garmin also boosted its 2020 forecast, saying it expects revenue of $4 billion on earnings of $4.60 per share. The figures left Wall Street’s expectations for sales of $2.84 billion and earnings of $4.34 per share in the dust.

The company, it seems, is succeeding where Fitbit failed, as fitness and wearables revenue spiked 34%. But Garmin is no one-trick pony. Aviation and marine revenue rose 22%, and outdoor revenue climbed 16%.

If you weren’t taking Garmin seriously before — like yours truly — now’s the time to add it to your watch list. Maybe consider a position when the stock finally calms down after today’s post-earnings surge.

Best: Totally Not Speculation

The company we’re about to talk about is one of the solar energy sector’s best-kept secrets.

Enphase Energy Inc. (Nasdaq: ENPH) doesn’t make solar panels or photovoltaic cells. It makes power converters … and not the ones you were whining about going to Tosche Station to buy.

These are semiconductor-based microinverters that monitor, regulate and control power generated by solar panels. And they’re required on every single solar panel — i.e., you need multiple Enphase converters for each solar power installation.

It turns out, this means robust sales for Enphase Energy as solar panels gain in popularity. This morning, the company said that earnings literally skyrocketed 875% year over year to $0.39 per share — beating Wall Street’s view by 18.2%. Revenue spiked 119.8% to $210 million, also blowing past the consensus estimate.

If that wasn’t enough, Enphase set guidance for second-quarter revenue of $200 million to $210 million. Wall Street was anticipating a more subdued $171.7 million.

Now, before you go bask in the sun with ENPH, the shares surged an astounding 40% in early trading today. If you want in on this hidden gem in the solar industry … I’d advise waiting for today’s enthusiasm to settle down a bit.

Last week’s poll results are in … and you guys love Great Stuff: Picks!

We asked: “What topics do you like reading in Great Stuff?”

More than 38% of you voted for “stock recommendations.” I’m glad to hear that, and I hope Great Stuff’s picks are working out well for you! That’s what I’m here for, after all. Well … that and the memes.

Economic news was the next most popular topic, with “I’m just here for the memes” bringing up the rear at 11%. Don’t worry, meme lovers: My sarcasm isn’t going anywhere.

This week, we’re talking options!

Are they scary things to avoid? Or are you interested in learning more about options?

Stay tuned: Eventually (when you’re ready), I’ll unveil Great Stuff’s hidden secrets to using options volatility to your advantage!

So, are you an options fiend or an options beginner? Let us know in this week’s poll:

Finally, don’t forget to check out Great Stuff on social media. If you can’t get enough meme-y goodness, follow Great Stuff on Facebook and Twitter.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Editor, Great Stuff

[wirelessheadphonesguru]

Beyerdynamic Amiron wireless vs. B&W PX

Ever since Apple did away with their headphone sockets, the demand for wireless headphones have risen. While the noise cancellation feature has now become a major pre-requisite of wireless headphones, the ones I am going to compare today belong to two different categories – the Beyerdynamic Amiron being a passive noise cancellation headphone while the Bowers & Wilkins PX being an active noise cancellation one. Without much ado, I will take the plunge to explore these two pairs of wireless headphones here.

The first look

Beyerdynamic Amiron is HUGE. After having a range of wired headphones, they have now come back with Beyerdynamic Amiron which is a Bluetooth wireless headphone. They are huge and makes you stand out in the crowd; forget about blending in, they are elephantine in proportion compared to the Bowers & Wilkins PX. People would notice the ‘BIG’ feature about the Beyerdynamic Amiron first thing when they set their eyes on it. The headphone does not bend or fold; it is a rigid one with a small swivel angle rotation for the ear cups.

Going on the physical patterns on the Bowers & Wilkins PX, I love the weave patterns on the headband and the best part, it is not just aesthetic but a bit practical too. The weave is made up of ballistic nylon and is one of the most durable and abrasion resistant fabrics available in the market.  On the sides are adjustable arms and have an all-metal construction with gracefully sliding earcups instead of the ratchety-clicky feel.  They do not slide automatically and stay in place while walking. Along the metal arms, the wire is braided and recessed and goes down into the earcups securely. Overall, these things look classy, gorgeous, and original in their own way. The overall quality in terms of looks and feel are premium.

Build quality

Beyerdynamic Amiron is built entirely in metal. This gives them a tough feel, heaviness and has an almost industrial design. The earcups and headband are both wrapped in plush foam that is insanely comfortable to wear. They are just soft enough to sit nicely on your head but firm enough that if you are wearing them, they make an excellent seal to block out background noise. They are not active noise canceling headphones but they do a great job at passive sound isolation.

Comfort

The padding all around the Beyerdynamic Amiron feels like they are wrapped in micro-fiber cloth or suede, which makes them super comfortable to wear for long listening sessions. That being said, in our tests, we found that when we move around our head vigorously or bend forward to look below, the Beyerdynamic Amiron slid from our ears and at times fell on our lap; a big NO-NO while walking on the road and looking around for traffic signals.

They are LARGE and the silhouette makes them even larger while wearing them; they weigh 384 grams and let you know its weight. Also, the metal on the headphones does attract oil and fingerprints and dust quite easily. They are comfortable all the same but the Beyerdynamic Amiron tends to get warm after continuous, especially when summer is on the way.

The Bowers & Wilkins PX have completely hollowed-out earcups and the ears do not touch the inside of the earcups at all. The earcups are very different from other brands like Audio Technica including our contender here. The ear pads are very thin and do a great job of staying fit around your ears without discomfort. It does warm up a little bit but that is barely noticeable. Thanks to this hollow earcup, there was minimal sound leakage during sound testing but more of it later down below. Last but not least, the ear cups are magnetized and can be pulled out for cleaning and they really hold on to the magnets without losing grip.

Controls

The volume controls on the Bowers & Wilkins PX are easy to find while wearing. They do have an extra button called environmental filter to adjust the active noise cancellation performance. Combine it with the use of the Bowers & Wilkins PX app, you can choose between different preset modes like Office, city, flight modes etc. to adjust the ANC. I tested it outdoors and found that when you use the city mode, it lets in the sounds of cars and other vehicles to keep you alert.

Functionally the Beyerdynamic Amiron wireless has a touchpad on the right ear cup to control your music. All of the buttons and also the inputs are on the right side; the left ear cup does not have anything except for the sound driver. The right ear cup has the power button/Bluetooth pairing button, 3.5mm audio jack input, USB Type C input, and the touch-sensitive pad on the side of the ear cup. Half-a-swipe and random fast gestures on the touchpad did not work for me.  You can also activate the personal assistant on your phone by tapping once on the touchpad. (Clue: Use the user manual to be acquainted with the moves; LOL)

Connectivity

Bluetooth 4.1 on the Bowers & Wilkins PX is pretty good and works with a 240 feet radius with a straight line of sight on the iPhone 10 that I am currently using. Within walled areas like my office, I managed to get 110 feet which beats other headphones in this category. You can pair multiple devices with the Bowers & Wilkins PX, though there is no voice prompt to tell you which devices it is connected to.

An additional feature with the Bowers & Wilkins PX is that they come with proximity sensors. They are useful when you lift the headphone or place them on your neck when you are not using them; they automatically pause and come back alive as soon as you keep them on your head. Phone calls are pretty clean too. They are located on the right ear cup and it also has a 3.5mm audio jack for wired connections and a USB type C charging port.

I had absolutely no issues with the Bluetooth connection on the Beyerdynamic Amiron either. They were strong and did not bicker at all.  As long as I stayed within the 30 feet range, I did not have a single stutter or drop-out with the Beyerdynamic Amiron. If you don’t feel like going wireless, then you can actually plug in the wire and use the headphones as a regular piece.

Battery

Battery life is usually 25 hours (25.27 hrs. to be precise) on mid volumes against the 22-hour claim on Bowers & Wilkins PX. This can be true because they are insanely loud on higher volumes for long periods. Overall, you can manage to get more battery life if you stay away from ANC, and the wired functionality improves it much further. I wish they included a better battery level indicator instead of the simple green light that they have on the headphone.

Beyerdynamic Amiron does not specify exactly how long the battery life is but they do mention that it has more than 30 hours of constant playback.

Audio Quality

I had some nit-picky complaints on the design, its bulk and other things about the Beyerdynamic Amiron, but here is the one thing that forgives them – These headphone sound really really good. They are a joy to listen to.

The audio delivery has a perfect amount of power and stays consistent through the complete performance. The lower notes do have a little bump to it, which to many will appear little bass-heavy. They do not overpower the mids and does register really well in your ears. Songs that were more instrument-based seemed to have more spacing between the instruments and the mids, while songs that were electronic or synth-heavy did not follow the suit. On the bright side, they have an impressive soundstage as if the entire thing had a drum-kit inside the headphone, making it feel lively.

Speaking of sound on the Bowers & Wilkins PX, it is a pair that sounds great, literally. Let me explain – I barely experienced any kind of air-cabin pressure and there is minor white noise that I heard when the ANC was on. With the music on, I could not hear them at all.

The sound is and I quote – LIVELY. The audio gives a spatial sound that brings in a great listening experience. The left and right audio channels were clean when it came to vocals and the instruments being heard in the distance gave a very lively real-life feel, especially songs that were live. You can also hear the live crowd around you quite distinctively. The Bowers & Wilkins PX were actually able to accentuate the directions, depth as well as the width of music with each genre. They are very loud on full volume and I recommend 50 to 60 %listening volume levels.

They are not bass-y but give a neutral tone. A natural sounding sound signature is what you get from Bowers & Wilkins PX. The mids, highs, and lows are great but folks who love bass may be a little disappointed (though they can be brought to the max with the equalizer settings) because of the neutral sound stage. However, the vocals, instrumental, rock and metal will be a great hearing experience on the Bowers & Wilkins PX.

A tabular comparison for the two is given below:

Brand Beyerdynamic Bowers & Wilkins Model Amiron PX Price

Build quality Premium and heavy Premium, strong, lighter Earcups Perfect fit but tends to fall off with head movements. Huge in size Hollowed ear cups, pressure on the crown. Average in size Gross Weight 384 grams 335 grams Type Wireless Wireless Controls Touch pad Traditional buttons Noise Cancellation Technology Passive Active ANC Performance – Excellent Battery (usage time) 30+ as per company claim 22 hours as per company Equalizer In built In built Mic Clear audio Excellent audio clarity Bluetooth Version 4.0 4.1 Bluetooth Range 30 feet 240 feet max. 110 min. Included in the box Type C USB charging cable and 3.5 mm audio jack Carry case, charging cable and 3.5 mm audio jack Sound Quality Excellent Excellent

  Bowers & Wilkins PX is a great pair of headphones to own and has Active noise cancellation. They are built well and have a great life span too with incredible aesthetics. However, the Beyerdynamic Amiron has only passive noise cancellation and therefore many people could find it a little less in their expectations when compared. Therefore, I would recommend the Bowers & Wilkins PX over the other as it stands out to be a great wireless headphones.

The post Beyerdynamic Amiron wireless vs. B&W PX appeared first on Wireless Headphones Guru.

from Wireless Headphones Guru https://wirelessheadphones.guru/facts/beyerdynamic-amiron-wireless-vs-bw-px/

[theladyjstyle]

Updated: 8/18/18 | August 18th, 2018

My first experience with hitchhiking was in Belize. Back in 2005, I hitchhiked the entire country, as it was the most common way locals got around. If they were doing it, why not me? It was a lot of fun and much easier and safer than I thought it would be. Since then, I’ve hitchhiked around a handful of countries and met some interesting (and not so interesting) people. Hitchhiking is still a popular and common way many people worldwide get around, but it evokes a lot of fears and concerns, especially among Westerners. Today, Matt Karsten from expertvagabond.com shares his experience hitchhiking around the United States and advice about how you can safely do it too. Enter Matt.

It was a chilly and overcast day on the Oregon coast when I nervously stuck my thumb out on the side of Route 101. For the next 20 minutes, drivers passed me over and over again — most with looks of disgust on their faces. But I kept on smiling. Would anyone stop for me? Was I wasting my time? I wasn’t completely sure.

Eventually my persistence paid off, and a massive orange pickup truck screeched to a stop in a cloud of dust. A wave of excitement rushed over me as I jogged up to meet CJ and her dog, Trigger. My first ride!

Yet this was just the first of many such pleasant surprises on my journey.

CJ wasn’t going far, only to the next town. When I asked why she stopped, she explained that I looked relatively normal and that she’d also done some solo hitchhiking in Montana when she was younger. This would become a common theme over the next five weeks. Drivers will often stop for you to pay back kindness they received in the past.

Before I left on my mission to hitchhike across the United States from coast to coast, I was told that no one picks hitchhikers up anymore. They said that it was dangerous these days, and that the golden era of hitchhiking was, sadly, over.

But after five weeks, 3,500 miles, 36 rides (from both men and women), a motorcycle, a boat, an airplane, a freight train, and a tractor trailer, I can say that those people were wrong. If you’ve always dreamed of hitchhiking but are unsure of how to do it, where to begin, and how to stay safe, here are 14 tips to hitchhike smart:

Be Confident

Always look drivers in the eye and smile as they pass. Not in a crazy axe-murderer way, but in a friendly and personable way. Smiling is very important. Pretend the next car is a friend who is planning to pick you up. Try waving hello or holding your gaze expectantly as they drive past. You really only have a second or two to make a positive impression. Think of it as a drive-by job interview, with only your eyes, appearance, and body language to guide the other person’s decision. Smiling for three hours straight in the sun or rain despite a constant stream of rejection is not easy, but you’ll get better at it. If you look nervous or scared, you will attract the wrong type of people, so be confident.

Look Presentable

No one wants to pick up a lazy, stinky-looking hobo. Dress in light or bright clothes. Avoid wearing black if you can. Don’t wear sunglasses (people need to see your eyes), and keep your hands out of your pockets. Don’t smoke, drink, or sit down on the side of the road.

Additionally, many drivers pick up people who look similar to themselves. I was having a difficult time getting a ride on the border of Colorado and Kansas until I bought myself a cheap cowboy hat! Soon after that strategic purchase, a trucker couple from rural Tennessee pulled over and proceeded to drive me 1,200 miles over the course of two days, country music playing all the while.

Choose a Good Spot

Cars will not stop for you if they can’t do it safely. Interstate on-ramps are great because cars aren’t moving very fast and there’s usually room to pull over. Other good locations include intersections with stoplights or a stop sign and gas stations. The longer a driver can get a good look at you, the better. Keep an eye out for shady areas with protection from the sun, too. If you have Internet access on your phone, Google Maps in satellite view will show you where the best on-ramps are.

Hitchhiking out of big cities can be very difficult, and sometimes using public transportation to get to the outskirts is your best option. There are some places where it is almost impossible to get a ride, such as spots near sensitive government facilities (employees are forbidden to pick people up), prisons, or neighborhoods with high crime rates.

Make Conversation

There are many reasons why people pick up hitchhikers. Maybe they’re bored and want to listen to fun travel stories. Maybe they were once hitchhikers and want to share their experience (and karma) with you. Maybe they’ll try to convert you to Christianity/Islam/Scientology. Maybe they need help staying awake on a long drive.

Providing good conversation is how you pay these people back for their generosity. It can also lead to a free lunch, drinks, or maybe even an offer to host you for the night. Ed the yacht builder was the last ride on my cross-country journey, and he spent his whole afternoon giving me a personal tour of the Maryland coast before taking me out for dinner and drinks at his favorite seafood restaurant.

Be Prepared

Always pack enough food and water to last a day, in case you get stuck in the middle of nowhere. I like to bring a few bananas, apples, tortillas, tuna, refried beans, and maybe a package of cookies to share. A filtered water bottle will let you safely drink from rivers and ponds. Take a couple of dark-colored permanent markers to create signs, some sunscreen, a first aid kit, warm clothes, and a rain jacket.

A USB car charger and external battery for your mobile phone is a good idea too. They’re perfect for listening to music, checking Google Maps, or calling for help in an emergency. A lightweight camping hammock or bivy sack will help you save money on accommodations. I frequently camped in the woods on the side of the road or behind churches on my trip.

Use a Cardboard Sign

A simple cardboard sign indicating a town nearby helps a lot. Keep it short and write in large capital letters with a Sharpie marker. It needs to be readable at a distance from a fast-moving vehicle. Use destinations that are relatively close (within 20–50 miles), and you’ll be more likely to score rides. You can then negotiate longer ones inside the vehicle if the driver is going farther in your intended direction.

Funny signs work well too. A few successful ones I used were: “Free Cookies,” “Won’t Kill You,” and “Rabies-Free Since June.” That last sign was funny enough that Dan, a retired theater actor and pharmaceutical executive, had already driven to the next exit when he changed his mind and turned around to come get me!

You can find cardboard for signs at any gas station or fast-food restaurant, either by asking inside or by opening up the dumpster in the back.

Choose Your Ride Carefully

You are under no obligation to get into every car that stops for you. Is the driver in a good mood? Are they looking you in the eyes? Are they sober? How many people are in the car? If you don’t feel comfortable accepting a ride, thank the driver and say no. Make up an excuse if you have to. Pretend to be sick, or explain that you’d rather wait for a longer ride. Trust your gut instincts. On my own trip, I only turned down one ride. I was in a sketchy neighborhood (prostitutes were walking around in the middle of the day), and the vehicle that stopped was a truck packed with four young guys, with the smell of weed pouring from the windows. They were also only headed to the next exit. Odds are good I would’ve been fine, but the situation didn’t feel right and I decided to wait for a better opportunity.

Use Common Sense

Always wear your seatbelt, and if the person starts driving erratically, stay calm and polite but ask to be let out at the next safe pullover spot. Avoid hitchhiking (or picking up hitchhikers) at night. Not only is it very difficult to stop on the side of the road safely after dark, but it’s also much harder to see pedestrians at night. Not to mention, people are much more likely to commit crimes under the cover of darkness.

Stay Positive

Hitchhiking is definitely a mental challenge. You’re putting yourself out there in public while engaging in an activity that isn’t considered mainstream. You’ll be judged by everyone who passes you, often in a negative way. People will laugh, flip you off, yell, honk, rev their engines, or maybe even throw things.

Stay in Control

Predators prey on weakness and insecurity. Don’t make yourself an easy target. Dress conservatively and steer sexual topics to something unsexy. Make it crystal clear you’re only interested in getting to your destination, and nothing else. Maintain an aura of confidence.

Keep your valuables on or near your body so if you must escape quickly, you don’t lose them. Avoid putting your bag in the trunk if possible, so the driver can’t take off before you can grab it. Snap a quick photo of the back of the car with your phone before you get in, then send it to a friend or your Twitter account. Once inside the car, find a moment to call a friend and tell them where you are and where you’re headed so the driver can hear you doing it.

Avoid Arguments

Try to avoid talking to your driver (or hitchhiker) about politics, religion, race, or other controversial subjects, at least until you get to know each other a bit and can gauge how they might react. You don’t want to provoke them into becoming angry or emotional while behind the wheel. If they attempt to start a conversation on these topics, try to change the subject or give boring/vague answers to their questions until they lose interest or you feel comfortable talking about them. This is how I responded to Captain Kitty Litter’s overly racist remarks and questions. Even though I disagreed with his views, I just kind of nodded along and let him talk.

Hitchhike with a Friend

If it’s your first time hitchhiking and you’re particularly nervous about it, try hitching with someone else who’s done it before. This is a fantastic way to learn the ropes and get more comfortable. While it might be more difficult to get someone to stop for two hitchhikers, it will always be a bit safer. I’m not saying not to go alone, but if you’re worried about safety, hitchhiking with a friend might be a good way to start out.

Expect to Wait

My average wait time while hitchhiking across the United States was about an hour. But there were some days when it took 2–3 hours or more. You must be prepared to wait in one spot for at least a few hours. However, there were also many times when I was picked up after only 15 minutes. You just never know how long it will take.

If you’re in a particularly bad spot, it might take days to get picked up, which happened to me once outside Denver. I spent two nights in a motel waiting to get out of there. Are you getting sick of waiting? Maybe take a break and go do something else to break up the time. Having camping gear with you can help in these situations too. Walking a few miles to the next exit or catching a taxi to a better location are also options.

Protect Yourself

You will almost certainly never need to use it, but packing a weapon of some kind to help with self-defense is always a good idea. I like to bring pepper spray along with me. When Captain Kitty Litter started telling me about the time he threw another hitchhiker out of his moving car, I subtly placed one hand in my pocket where pepper spray was hidden (just in case). Luckily I never needed to use it!

My experienced hitchhiker friend Shannon carries a stun gun openly on her belt (this can be illegal in some states). However, a simple pen shoved into the ear or eyes of an assailant should work in a pinch too. In my opinion, a knife should not be your first choice for self-defense unless you’ve been trained to use it, as it can easily be turned against you if the situation takes a turn for the worse. Please note that using a weapon is an absolute last resort — only use it when communication doesn’t work and you honestly fear for your life.

Is Hitchhiking Safe?

Hitchhiking has become progressively more rare over the years. Irrational fears about hitchhiking are brought on by paranoid horror stories promoted aggressively by the news and then turned into movies by Hollywood. Bad news is what sells, so that’s what we’re exposed to. I’m still waiting for CNN to do a story about my successful hitchhiking adventure, but I’m not holding my breath. I had a wonderful time, met great people, and nothing bad happened. It’s not sensational enough to be considered news.

Based on my own experience and after listening to other people’s hitchhiking stories, it’s likely that some weirdos will pick you up. But rarely will it result in a dangerous situation. Out of 36 different rides during my own adventure, I had maybe two or three “odd” (socially awkward) drivers.

I was told countless times that hitchhiking would be dangerous. While it’s smart to be prepared for worst-case scenarios, in reality you don’t have to worry about these horror stories too much. Most of the people I met while hitchhiking were friendly, fascinating, and full of entertaining tales. But that doesn’t mean you should let your guard down.

While hitchhiking is not nearly as dangerous as some people make it out to be, there is risk involved. If you choose to engage in this activity, you are accepting those risks. Crimes are committed against hitchhikers from time to time, as well as against drivers (although much less frequently).

If you ever feel threatened or uncomfortable once you’re already in the vehicle, first ask the driver to stop and let you out at the next exit or gas station. Make up an excuse if you want to. If the driver still fails to stop, remind them that you sent a photo of the car and plate number to friends. In an absolute emergency, you can always grab the steering wheel or handbrake and cause a small accident. Remember, only use these techniques as a last resort, when you genuinely fear for your life. Even small accidents can kill you or someone else. It’s not something to take lightly.

One Final Legal Note

Hitchhiking in the United States is legal. The confusion lies with the United States Uniform Vehicle Code. The law states:

“No person shall stand in a roadway for the purpose of soliciting a ride.”

Sounds illegal, right? Yes — until you read its definition of “roadway:”

“That portion of a highway improved, designed or ordinarily used for vehicular travel, exclusive of the sidewalk, berm or shoulder even though such sidewalk, berm or shoulder is used by persons riding bicycles or other human powered vehicles.”

What does that mean? It’s illegal to stand directly on the road (for obvious safety reasons), but standing on the side of the road, the shoulder, or a sidewalk is fine.

Each state also has its own laws, though, and a few specifically ban hitchhiking. These include New York, Nevada, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Utah, and Wyoming.

However, getting caught hitchhiking in these states doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll go to jail. Police officers may stop and question you, give you a warning, or fine you. In fact, hitchhikers may experience this from authorities even in states where it is technically legal, due to ignorance of the law or boredom.

Hitchhiking will definitely be a challenge. But it will also open your mind, build your confidence, teach you patience, and introduce you to new friends. There’s something magical about the open road and the uncertainty that comes with sticking out your thumb with no plans.

You could meet a friendly schoolteacher who’s never picked anyone up or an ex-con with hilarious stories to share. Or maybe you’ll meet the inventor of the Ultimate Pancake Sandwich. I was picked up in fancy Land Rovers, an airplane, a boat, a motorcycle, and a car held together with duct tape. You don’t know who will stop, if anyone will stop, or how your day will unfold when someone eventually does. That’s what makes hitchhiking so special. It’s the unknown.

It’s an absolute roller coaster ride full of emotions: thrilling one minute, then completely discouraging the next. But in the end, hitchhiking might just be one of your most memorable or rewarding travel experiences, as it has been for me. I’ll never forget the feeling of accomplishment I experienced when jumping into the Atlantic Ocean at the end of my long journey.

Useful Resources for Hitchhiking

For more information on the legality of hitchhiking, trip reports, organized meet-ups, and route maps from around the world, check out HitchWiki.org and Reddit Hitchhiking.

To locate accommodations while hitchhiking, you can use Couchsurfing.org to meet local people willing to share their homes with strangers in exchange for interesting conversation. You will surely be able to provide some after a few days of hitchhiking.

Matthew Karsten has been vagabonding around the world since 2010. Addicted to adventure travel and photography, he’s on a mission to inspire your next journey with entertaining stories and images from his travels. Read more about his five-week hitchhiking journey across America at ExpertVagabond.com.

Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines. Start with Momondo.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld. If you want to stay elsewhere, use Booking.com as they consistently return the cheapest rates. (Here’s the proof.)

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. I never ever go on a trip without it. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. You should too.

Need Some Gear? Check out our resource page for the best companies to use!

  The post 14 Ways to Safely Hitchhike Across the United States appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

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[5axismachiningchina]

Home Office - My Desk - Old 2005

Posted from 5 axis machining China blog

Home Office - My Desk - Old 2005

A few nice machining services factory images I found:

Home Office – My Desk – Old 2005

Image by fensterbme UPDATED: This photo is over five years old and is out-dated. If you are interested in seeing what my half of our office looks like Click Here. I’ve switched almost entirely over to Mac and things are a lot simpler overall.

Old Description of Office as it Was in 2005: I spend a lot of time here. It’s my half of our home office (my wife has the other half). I work out of my house about 40% of the time, and my wife works out of the house in the evenings and weekends. We both work a good bit… so we are in this room more than any other in our house.

Anyways, my side of our office is filled with tech stuff. I have two large tower cases (one is a server, the other is my desktop), my work laptop, my personal laptop and my Macinotsh G4.

These machines connect to another group of computers in my basement (I have six runs of CAT5e cabling between my 2nd floor office and basement). I run my firewall (Smoothwall), two test linux systems, and another Windows XP machine running next to my music/audio stuff, all out of my basement to avoid the complete geek overrun of the office. In fact soon the server and desktop machines will also move to the basement and into a custom rack enclosure (along with my other mess of boxes downstairs) I will then build another AMD dual core system to be my desktop computer. As my current desktop is headed to be a virtualization server (VMWare) which will act as a test bed /home lab for me.

All the fast stuff connects via gigabit ethernet (Server, Main Desktop, G4 Macintosh, downstairs XP machine and my wife’s HP nc8230 laptop), the other stuff has to stay in the slow lane with fast ethernet connections, or wireless connections if I feel like walking about.

Click here to see a photo of our book case on the other side of the room.

Here is a link to the photo of my real office which isn’t nearly as exciting.

NOTE: This photo made it into Flickr’s ‘Explore" as one of the top five hundred most interesting photos on a particular day. You can see all of my photo’s that have made it into the Flickr Explore pages here.

Heavy Soviet Tank KV-2. 1941. Советский тяж��лый танк КВ-2. 1941 год.

Image by Peer.Gynt Digitally Composed Graphics.

On December 19, 1939, KV-1(Kliment Voroshilov) Heavy Tank was accepted for the service. At that time, KV-1 took part in combat tests on the Russian-Finnish War (so-called « Winter War»). During those battles, the Soviet High Command come to conclusion that the heavy tank with more powerful armament is highly needed to combat with enemy bunkers, pillboxes and other fortifications.

The North-Western Front HQ ordered first four KV-1 tanks from experimental party must been armed with 152 mm howitzers. To do this, the best engineers from KTZ’s design bureau were summoned. After two weeks a new project was completed. In a first time engineers decided use the 152 mm mod.1909/1930 Howitzer, but later it was replaced with more modern 152 mm M-10 Howitzer Model 1938/1940. A new, bigger turret was designed to accept such heavy cannon. That turret was named «MT-1».

At the beginning of 1941, the this tank was renamed to KV-2. Before this, the KV-1 called as «The Tank With a Small Turret» while KV-2 called as «The Tank With a Big Turret». The MT-1 turret was placed on the chassis of a twin-turret experimental tank instead of small turret (a large turret was also removed from the hull). On February 10, 1940, first trials were conducted. At the time, Soviet tank designers weren’t very experienced in vehicles of such a heavy weight. They added a small lid on the the howitzer’s barrel. That lid was intended to prevent a gun from the dust, shell’s fragments and bullets. However, after the first shot this lid was torn away, after that it was never used.

In 1940, a pair of KV-2 were sent to the battlefront on the Karelian isthmus. In spite of some rumors, KV-2s didn’t take part in battles before the Great Patriotic War. The pair of KV-2 fired on already captured pillboxes. The results of those tests were excellent and later, in 1940, a KV-2 Heavy Tank was accepted for service. Soviet tankers often nicknamed those tanks as «Dreadnoughts».

During the production, the tank’s turret was slightly improved and additional DT Machine-Gun was mounted in it. The shortened M-10 Howitzer was able to fire a 52-kg high-explosive projectile with muzzle velocity of 436 m/s.

Please notice, only high-explosive shells with reduced propellant charge were used for KV-2’s gun! No armor-piercing and concrete-piercing ammo used! It was allowed to use Naval Semi-AP Round M.1915/28. However that ammo used only in Red Navies, it was absent in Red Army’s warehouses. Despite some modern sources, the usage of armor-piercing and concrete-piercing ammunition was prohibited; it was specially highlighted in the KV-2’s Operational Manual. The problem was with its big recoil; it definitely jammed KV’s turret. Untill the middle of 1941 Soviet engineed tried to develop a special concrete-piercing projectile for KV-2, but unsuccessful and then Germany invades to the USSR so all further works were stopped at all.

KV-2 had 36 rounds for its main gun and 3087 rounds for its bow and rear machine-guns. The crew of six crewmembers: tank commander, gun commander, second gun commander (loader), gunner, driver, and radio operator.

Besides of the 152-mm howtzer, there were some other guns which were either tested or intended to be mount on the KV-2. One of that was an attempt to mount a long barreled 106.7 mm Gun ZIS-6 (initially, this gun was proposed for the perspective KV-3 and KV-5 tanks). From May to June of 1941, the KV-2 with the ZIS-6 was tested on factory’s trials, after that it was sent to the ANIOP’s trials which it failed. Main problem was with gun’s ammunition: the gun had single-loading rounds. Such a lond and heavy shells were wery hard to handle and operate by a single loader.

Additionaly, the KV-2 armed with the 85 mm Gun F-39. Ordered by the NKO, in March 1941, a KV-2 with this gun was tested but I was unable to find results of those tests.

Unfortunately, the new tank had same drawbacks in transmission and chassis as the KV-1. Besides, most of KV-2 tanks didn’t have a proper number of ammunition. Nevertheless, the appearance of KV-2 became a shock for German tankers. There wasn’t any weapon, with the exception of the 88 mm AA-Gun, that could successfully defeat this beast.

Up north, the 6-Panzer-Division under Panzer-Gruppe 4 had encountered Russian heavy tanks. As related in the war diary of Panzer-Regiment 11 on 25 June 1941 (cited from T. Jentz «Panzertruppen»):

«During the morning, the II.Abteilung/Panzer-Regiment 11 together with Kampfgruppe von Seckendorff advanced along the right-hand march route. Throughout the day both units fought off repeated attacks from the Russian 2nd Armored Division. Unfortunately, the Russian 52 ton heavy tanks showed that it was almost insensitive to hits from the 10.5-cm. Several hits from a 15-cm gun were ineffective and bounced off. However, continuous attacks by several Pz Kpfw lV managed to knock out a large number of tanks throughout the day, which allowed our own attack to again drive forward to about three kilometers west of Dubysa.

The bridgehead of Kampfgruppe Raus was held. During the afternoon, as a reserve, a reinforced company and the headquarters of Panzer-Abteilung 65 were pulled back along the left attack route to the crossroads northeast of Rossienie. In the meantime a Russian heavy tank had blocked the communications route to Kampfgruppe Raus, so that contact with Kampfgruppe Raus was broken for the entire afternoon and during the night. An 8.8-cm Flak battery was sent by the commander to fight this tank. It was just as unsuccessful as a 10.5-cm battery whose fire was directed by a forward observer. In addition, an attempt by a Pioneer assault troop using balled explosives failed. It was impossible to get close to the tank because of heavy machine gun fire».

The most of KV-2 tanks were lost because of breakdowns. For example, 41st Tank Division lost 22 KV-2 tanks of 33 tanks total. The only 5 tanks were destroyed by the enemy, other 17 tanks were abandoned because of breakdowns or run out of fuel.

In October 1941, the KV-2’s manufacture was cancelled. Totally 334 KV-2 tanks were produced.

Article is written by Valeri Potapov www.battlefield.ru/index.php?option=com_content&task=…

Clock Tower on the Nashua River

Image by StarrGazr This is Clocktower Place (Historic and Luxurious Apartments), condos in Nashua, NH in the former quarters of the Nashua Manufacturing Company on the Nashua River in downtown Nashua, New Hampshire USA.

The History of Nashua, NH USA – 1775 – 1830 After the Indian Wars and until the American Revolution of 1776, Dunstable was mostly a farming community. Corn and Vegetables were grown on the Merrimack/Nashua River intervale. Hay and Orchards were prevalent on the southern side.

Merchants and travelers from outside of town from the north and south used Nashua as a thoroughfare thereby creating a hospitality and entertainment economy. Many taverns and hotels were built along The Great Road (Main Street) such as Tylers Tavern which provided necessary comfort and service.

Daniel Abbot moved to the upper community of Dunstable in 1802. Abbot is a Harvard graduate who soon after opened a law practice here. Abbot quickly became a civic leader who then proceeded to rename Dunstable to "Nashua Village" in a speech given on July 4th in 1803.

Right about the same time, Josiah Griswold Graves, MD became the first physician in town. He became very popular because he had an exceptional ability in diagnosing ailments of his patients.

Nashua was heading towards a full scale industrial makeover. During the 1820’s, Abott, along with the Greeley brothers, Daniel Webster and some Massachusetts Industrial Investors formed a coalition to create the first textile mills in Dunstable powering Nashua’s Industrial Revolution. Abott had been watching his Harvard counterparts in Massachusetts and knew Dunstable had the water power to begin the Waltham-Lowell venture. He moved forward to begin the industry that would become the socio-economic scene dominating the 1830’s – 1860’s.

Robert Owen, resident of New Lanark, Scotland is credited with creation of the infant structure of our city. The basis of his landmark design includes the layout of the streets, the mills and their basic architecture, and most importantly; social planning which included how the employees would be treated.

Two men, Nathaniel Appleton and Patrick Tracy Jackson, traveled to New Lanark and studied the designs of Owen. The Owen design made it all the way to Nashua from Scotland; consisting of a mill, worker housing, a school, and a church, all run by the originating mill company. This combined with the mastermind of Francis Cabot Lowell and the energy of Daniel Abbot began the enterprise of Nashua’s economic future.

Francis Cabot Lowell, Harvard graduate and math major, traveled to England with the express interest of studying the textile designs of the James Archright Power Loom and creating it’s mirror here in the United States. His extended vacation included touring the industries where the loom existed and in essence, formulated the designs in his mind. An extreme form of piracy in that day as the patent for the machine and exporting the technology was expressly prohibited. His textile looms were better than their English predecessors and his fabrics soon found their way into world commerce.

Francis Cabot Lowell – Nathaniel Appleton

The first large company created was the Nashua Manufacturing Company in 1823. Nashua Manufacturing was the first in New Hampshire completed in the full scale Waltham-Lowell design.

The Waltham-Lowell design, including especially the church, met the demands of the New England farmer father as a "socially and morally acceptable" place of employment for their daughters, as they made up the majority of the mill workforce.

For 30 years, tens of thousands of young, single women migrated to the Waltham-Lowell mills and revolutionized women’s labor in America, and the world, right here in Nashua!

Mill Girls

Daniel Abbot was a great and powerful force fueling the creation of Nashua’s Mills. His passion for growth and success empowered the people to achieve their greatest, evident even today. Daniel Abbot, coined ‘the Father of Nashua’ is due to his many contributions to its rich heritage.

Nashua was and continues to be the New Hampshire cradle of technological culture. The design and creation is a progressive sophisticated model of technical and social innovation.

Daniel Abbot

Other prime manufacture in this new mill town included ironworks, shirting, linens, shoes, wood products, and coated paper. Nashua’s position on the Merrimack River made it easily accessible for consumers and suppliers off the Atlantic Ocean. The opening of the Middlesex Canal in 1803 also contributed to the ease of water transport. The Nashua River became a riverfront mercantile village offering more trade then than what you can find in all of Nashua today.

During this busy time, a wooden covered toll bridge enabled passage over the Merrimack for travel to and from Hudson. Before the bridge, the only way across the river was by ferry. Three ferries, Cummings; at the mouth of the Nashua River, Hills; in the North end, and Littles; at the south side of Nashua gave access to and from Nashua and Hudson.

More: Downtown History – Great American Downtown

Nashua Manufacturing Company Collection from the Harvard Business School.

[gamerestart]

My Personal History with Electronic Games: 4 of N

Previously on Game Restart: [it’s a series]

The thing about arcades is that arcades are expensive. 

Adjusted for inflation, a quarter in early 80s money is approximately 63¢ in today’s money at the time of this writing. Most people probably aren’t used to spending money after the initial investment in the console and then the game for their home, but imagine spending that for every three tries, lives, or continues.

And some games in the 1980s were 50¢ (or $1.25 as of 2018). Many remember Dragon’s Lair (I certainly do), one of several LaserDisc based games which rocked arcades back in the day, and games like these certainly commanded a pretty high price. I have to admit, my total investment in that particular bit of entertainment probably amounts to no more than $1.50 in 80s money. Nine lives all ended in failure, and then the bank was broke.

I didn’t investigate any of the others, though I was morbidly fascinated by the gory bits present in the attract mode for Bega’s Battle standing in the entryway to the base exchange in Yokota.

Still, on occasion, I’d spring for Pac-Man, but since most of these games demanded a lot more than home console versions, they tended to end pretty quickly. I was more keen on spending my video game money on books, specifically game books, specifically, books, like, for example:

Among others. Modules were $5.50, rulebooks for the Moldvay/Cook Basic/Expert were $6.00, and I want to say boxed sets were something like $12, but that included dice and sometimes another module, too. The hardcover books ranged from $15 to $18 (for the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide). I was also into Star Frontiers and paperback game books like Joe Dever and Gary Chalk’s Lone Wolf series.

Arcades got a little play, but I spent much less time in them than I spent in libraries. And clearly, I could certainly kill some time gazing at the books at the Stars and Stripes bookstores over the summers (or at Waldenbooks, stateside). 

When it came to money, what I wasn’t spending on Zoids, I was saving for books, which frequently came to me used. I spent a lot of time amassing my collection of role playing game materials, and most of it I’ve kept since those days. Virtually everything else, like the video games, Commodore 128, and toys, were either lost or sold somewhere along the way. Moving a lot meant regularly purging; I purged books absolutely last and only if it was absolutely necessary. I did my best to keep the books, but the Vectrex and Atari 2600 never properly belonged to me anyway.

Moving was big, and was done every two years without fail—even if it was literally down the street on base. Once our stuff was packed up and shipped out, we had a short empty stay in our former residence—always as empty as it was whenever we first arrived two years prior—and then either drove or flew out to the next destination. Often, there would be extensive road trips regardless, because that’s when the vacations would be timed: between Dad’s assignments, over the summer so we missed as little school as possible.

May, 1984 involved a trip to pick up some cousins and we hied forth to Orlando and Disney World and—with the greatest possible anticipation by myself—EPCOT Center. I might play games in medieval-styled fantasy worlds, but at heart I’ve always been a futurist, and this marvelous new place promised to speak eloquently to me of better futures.

I voraciously consumed science fiction in print and whatever I could get on television or in theaters and home video. Star Wars at the drive-ins had been a favorite of mine since I was seven. The Empire Strikes Back made a greater impact, but was more downbeat, and I’d seen Return of the Jedi only the year before in an outdoor theater in Antigua. Anything else was delayed to home video. Living abroad often meant missing or being otherwise behind whenever it came to pop cultural stuff. Base TV (AFRTS) also didn’t have commercials, so we only saw local programming, not the stuff people were being subjected to stateside.

I was more a fan of our space program, and NASA. My elementary school in Antigua was named after the astronauts of Apollo 1 (Chaffee, White, and Grissom), and there was a small mural of the astronauts inside the building. 

Heck, it was a small building, holding grades 1-4 in one room, and 5-7 in the next. There was a small library—read Watership Down for the first time from there—and a few bathrooms and closets but that was it for the most part. It was a very small school. Eighth graders were sent elsewhere, I forget where, but it was moot in my case, since I would be repeating seventh grade when I got to Japan. Being held back for “developmental reasons” always struck me as bullshit. I could have been out of school one year earlier. I got back at everyone by failing the ninth grade, but that backfired and I was moved into the tenth grade on Adak anyway. I may have honestly earned a bit of my opposition to establishments which practice hypocrisy back then. The world of adults made no sense, and they were too inconsistent with the rules to be trusted.  

But this was a trip to remember, and I was looking forward to it.

Apart from the long drive with cousins, there was always entertainment. Reading in a moving vehicle was still something I could do at that time, so I did that a lot. There were also a very few portable electronic games. Crazy Climber (from Bandai), a “Monkey Business” wristwatch (also by Bandai), and an VFD (vacuum fluorescent display) game I’d resurrected from dead—purchased for about a dollar at a yard sale on Antigua. It came with considerable battery corrosion from four AA batteries, and I actually spent a lot of time trying to recover it to a working state. Some soldering was required (my Dad helped with that part) and I was able to get it working again. It was Star Hawk by Mattel, the first electronic game I would ever fix. Anyway, these saw some use, but these would be mostly forgotten when we arrived at the campsite.

KOA campgrounds were all over the US (near as I could tell), and we’d spent a lot of time in them, driving all over the country, saving money (I assume) on hotel bills. We set up tents, visited bathrooms, gazed at the swimming pool,  and … and then …

And then it rained like a swimming pool poured through a sieve for almost the entire week. I didn’t care: Disney World/EPCOT were too nearby to feel anything but slightly dampened anticipation.

The only dry spot was the KOA laundry and check-in building where the snacks and vending machines were and—

And there it was. One arcade console by Atari—still close enough to the heyday to inspire excitement even in a jaded, dampened, and world-weary twelve-year-old—and no mere upright cabinet console this, and certainly not the blocky-chunky pixels of the Atari 2600 home console but the clean vector graphics I would later associate with the Vectrex; this was a cockpit to climb into to save the rebel alliance from the Death Star. (And it had some early voice samples from the film itself.)

Star Wars was fifty cents to play. Half a dollar. Cripplingly costly. 

Objectively I knew I needed to save money for the Disney experiences which were the entire basis for the whole trip, but I also must needed to play it. It’s one thing to grab a friend’s X-wing (er, with permission—I never had my own), and run around the playground like a lunatic blowing up the enemy, one gets tired of that kind of exercise. Also there are compromises like Luke technically being unavailable so a Micronaut Time Traveller had to step in and save the day, but imagination is as fierce and unyielding as it is malleable.

This was the summer of 1984, and I probably spent 70% of my budget into that damned machine. The parents did not object. It was rainy, and we had been holding out for better weather, and it was warm and dry nearer to the glow of the screen. X rays are like that. And what was I going to do otherwise? Go swimming? That was like walking.

The rain relented slightly, and I had a fabulous time at EPCOT and Disney World (adventures to recount later), and it turns out, even after coaxing one last play before we packed up camp and left, I was unable to end the Death Star. That fight would have to continue later.

Back to 2003, at a Tacoma Fred Meyers, I wander into electronics, just to see if there was anything new. I may have been killing time for the next bus home. Fred Meyer doesn’t seem to do this any more for home consoles, but they had a video game kiosk set up for the Nintendo GameCube.

Nintendo. I’d heard of them. Why not. The demo is playing Rogue Leader: Rogue Squadron II. I grasp the controller, and feel my way around playing for a bit.

And I’m back in 1984, sitting in the cockpit of an X-wing, trying to ‘splode the Death Star.

In 1995, graphics like this would have been mind-blowing. But I regularly used SGI hardware far more capable than any video game console, and there wasn’t that much difference between this and the PS2. Perhaps the GameCube was better overall, but that’s not the whole experience. Running down TIE fighters and crashing into walls is.

I bought the game. I bought the GameCube (Indigo, because, reasons). I bought a copy of Luigi’s Mansion. And I bought a wireless Wavebird controller all on the same day.

It would take a few months, and I certainly didn’t know it at the time, but this machine would put dust on the Sony PS2.

[kapitanwingter]

Chapter 5 - Hear me roar!

Ever told you how forgetful I am?

Setting the alarm clock to wake me up at seven even though I need to wake up at eight. Even though it's Saturday sensha-dou classes are after school every day and at weekend mornings and Saturday afternoon, though we can visit the hangars and tinker with our tanks any time. They may be the possession of the school but the school's sensha-dou committe (Emese and the deputy commander) knows best how to handle them so they leave it to them. However they think the best is to let the crews customize the tanks. Well maybe not the crew of the Tas yet since we're newbies, maybe if we proove ourselves they will trust us enough for that too.

After choosing me as commander we all headed home and Cap told us to go back at nine in the morning. She said the deputy commander will walk us through the operation of the tank and she will instruct us on our first lesson. Everyone else from the club will be training on the grounds which is next to the forest so we will have the entire area for ourselves.

She told us to come in the school's sports outfit because we have some serious cleaning to do. True that, when I drove the tank the inside was...well...it had filth of unspeakable amount. We would also get our equipment and tankwomen clothing. I'm so excited.

I packed some water and sandwiches into my bag which had the union jack on and went to the hangars.

I saw Reiko and Jitsuko was already there with somebody else.

"Hey girls" I said.

"Morning Tami" they replied.

"Good morning miss Tamara" said the girl with long orange hair in twintails. She was wearing the same coverall as Emese yesterday with tanker boots and I saw her leather coat and tanker hat lying on the Panther near her - which I assumed was her tank "I'm Reizei Rin, they call me Lili. I'm Emi's second in command, I look forward to working with you"

"I look forward to working with you as well" I said.

"I heard a great deal about you already. Did you seriously cranked this piece of junk in five minutes?"

"I think it was six"

"Aren't you a modest one"

I giggled a bit.

"I hope we haven't missed the party!" yelled Eimi from the distance who was coming with the missing crew members.

They introduced themselves after.

 "So" started Lili "Shall we start?"

"Lemme guess it's dusting the tank time" said Aoi.

"Pontosan [exactly]" said Lili.

"Üssenek meg kővel ha ez nem magyar volt [Punch me with a stone if that wasn't Hungarian]" I said.

"Tanulgatom [I learn it-ish]" she replied "Okay girls, the tap is over there, get some water and the sponges on the table and let's start scratching off the rust and dirt"

  Thus we did. For an hour or two. After the tank turned into a nice deep olive colour. It had some japanese markings on it, probably from the previous users.

"So anyways" I said "Why didn't you use the tank for this long?"

"It got set on fire by itself" said Lili "The operating crew barely escaped in the middle of the match which was called off after it. The fire almost caused the ammo inside to explode which they menaged to prevent. After they repaired it and started it again but after five minutes of running smoke was coming out of her so they poured some foam in the engine, washed it out and left her in the courner"

"Hmmmm" I reacted "I guess we're lucky"

"How so?"

"Right you haven't heard. My Dad does this for a living, making vehicles safe and operable. He hasn't had a single incident with the refurbished tanks yet. I'm gonna give him a call then"

Lili nodded approovingly.

I talked to Dad for something ten minutes while I looked through the tank thoroughly as the others were starring at me working.

"Don't just stand there y'all we gotta get this engines out now" I said to them.

 "Plural?" asked Eimi.

"Yeah this stuff has two Turán engines inside"

The club is well equipped so we menaged to get the engine block out in half an hour with the jacks then I called Dad again. After close inspection from every possible angle we concluded first that the oil was leaking which was to be expected but I also noticed that fuel was leaking from the combustion chambers at three pistons. I poured some in exactly because of this and not water because it's not the same.

"Gotcha" I said "Even though we need to take apart engine two it's not the most serious problem"

"You guys are professionals" said Lili "Not even the automotive club could figure this one out. Now that I think about it they didn't want to take it apart because they feared it would do it again while taking it out of the tank"

"That was a possibility" I said

"What" asked Reiko.

"Nothing" I replied.

It was noon so we took a lunchbreak before taking apart an entire engine block. We were already exhausted except for Lili so we didn't talk much. After resting for half an hour I sent Jitsuko and Aoi to see if the automotive club members were in their clubhouse today. We got lucky so I asked Eimi and Reiko to look for the Tas's blueprint in the headquarters.

Reinforced with the automotive club's professionalism and equipment we menaged to seal the problematic places away and put it back to it's respectful place. I sat in the driver's seat - and I must admit Fusako did a number on the inside, I couldn't imagine it could be this clean - and hit the ignition button. She had a lot better voice than before. I rolled out with her on the field and hit the pedal to the metal. The Tas accelerates like a mother trucker. For a medium-heavy tank it's really fast and agile though I have a feeling the tracks might get tricky if the road is not stable enough but should perform well in snow and dust or sand. I rode her for ten minutes and nothing happened so I went back after stirring up the dust heavily.

"This should do" I said to everyone "Cheers guys, thanks for the help!"

"It was a pleasure" said the automotive club's main engineer and they went back.

"What a way to waste the day" said Reiko "It's already two PM..."

"Tired already?" said Lili  sarcastically.

"Hell no" she replied.

"Good, because the real fun begins now. As you may or may not know this is a tank. What does it mean? It means you don't operate it alone - duh. Time for a role-call, I heard you already chose Tamara as your commander. Well then commander, time to sorte out who does what"

The girls were all looking at me. They each had the place they wanted to be but were too shy to say it out loud.

"Okay" I broke the silence "First we need a driver. I vote for Eimi since she really is into cars"

"Good call" said Fusako.

"Shooter should be Reiko then because of her sport and hobby"

"Couldn't agree more" said Reiko.

"Loader should be Fusako. I saw your handy work on the inside of the tank, I see you can orientate well inside already and you seem to be very agile and tall enough to have no problem loading the cannon"

"I'll do if you want me to, Tami" she said.

"So that leaves the radio operator and the maintenance personnel..."

"Excuse me" said Aoi "I really enjoyed taking that engine apart. If you teach me everything there is to know I would really much like to be the crew's most important support" then she bowed.

"I'm glad you feel like that. I guess that makes Jitsuko our radioman"

"Seems fine to me" she said.

"Glad you could sort it out this quickly" said Lili "So what are you waiting for? Watabe! Check the loadout with Fusako and also check the engine's parameters, everyone else: battle-stations!"

I told Aoi what to look out for and what to check when inspecting the tank. Before we could jump in the tanks:

"Hold on a sec girls! I almost forgot" said Lili "Come in the HQ"

We went in and saw folded clothes on the chairs with boots in front of them and tanker hats on them.

"First let's get geared up" she said.

 We each got the 38M tank hat, a light-olive coverall with a brown belt and the respective undershits with tankmen boots. Luckily I was prepared and brought...some of my own.

My everyday clothes when the weather allows include a 65M Surranó - a Hungarian military leather boots - and a leather jacket. I also brough my grandfather's leather gloves who passed away before my birth, and a dark-brown, Hungarian version of the german M43 tanker hat..

I took them on or instead of the given equipment. Turned around and said:

"Allright girls, this is the point of no return. Is everybody ready to make history?!"

"YEAH" they yelled back.

Lili was smiling while we took positions inside the tank. "They sure look promising" she must have thought to herself.

Now that I think back things really escalated fast on my first week. It was my third day in school and I already was commander of a 44M Tas in the sensha-dou team. I never could've imagined I would make this progress so fast, not to mention that they would choose and accept me as their commander. The real trial is in front of me but this is the kind of challange I love to tackle head on.

  The hat had a built in radio. It was modern technology so it was wireless and had a long-lasting battery inside. Everyone had access to the radio which was between each other in the tank, I could use the short range radio from my neckpiece on top of the tank radio and I also had a smaller headset under my hat, and Jitsuko was the long range operator. I think these hats are upgraded from the original, made into the likes of the soviet tanker ushankas.

"All right Eimi, all yours now" I said over the radio "Előre!"

"Which means..?" she asked.

"Forwards" I said "Also take it slowly for now"

Lili was observing us from the tower next to the garages.

"So uhm...44M Tas, sorry we don't have a codename for you guys yet..." she said.

"Any ideas?" I asked the crew.

"This one's on you" said Fusako.

"Turul" I said on the short range radio.

"Allright. Turul, go forward and in the forest, follow the road which will lead you to where the others are having their training. Be careful not to go in the firing range but no don't worry they are facing towards the ocean and the range is at the edge of the ship"

"We still haven't set sails you know that, right?" I asked her.

"Uhm...yeah...of course" she said with uncertainty in her voice "But anyways just go where I told you, the short range radio has the range of about two kilometers. The range is three away so if I don't reply switch to long-range. I can see you from up here with my binaculars. Good luck girls"

"Acknowledged" I replied "Tamara temporarily out. Ei we can go a bit faster"

"Understood" she said.

At the edge of the forest it suddenly hit me. I didn't explain to her how to drive a tank. I mean it's pretty straightforward: gas, break, clutch, gears - eight of them forwards and two in reverse - and one break for the left track and one for the right. She's a natural besides her knowladge of cars.

Fusako's job was really easy she just didn't need to drop the ammo and reload fast. Maybe I should explain the breech mechanics to her later, there is a lever which is basically the safe switch in the cannon, she just needs to pull that.

Reiko will need to learn how to estimate distances but otherwise her job was rotating two wheels and the horizontal one has a hydraulic stance so the turret traverses fast.

Jitsuko's job will be an other matter. I'll have to read the manual with her. Thankfully all the manuals for this tank are naturally in Hungarian so it must have been a bit difficult to figure this tank out for the previous operators. This radio will be a tough one though but I'm sure we'll solve it.

I just told Aoi a couple of stuff to check, not even thoroughly but I think she might be an explicit observer as we were tinkering with the engine. I'll send her to the automotive club and I'll tell her everything I know as well. She'll menage very well. In the end she'll menage all the tanks and not just ours.

We did as we were told to and followed the road. Eventually ended up on the training grounds. There were the the shooting grounds which was at least a kilometer long and it really did face towards the side of the ship. To the left there were different kinds of paths which simulated different terrains. To the right I saw a couple of big tents which I assumed were for resting and strategy meetings.

"Lili this is Turul, we're here what do we do now, do you read me?" I asked through my short-range radio. I heard some buzzing so I was about to tell Jitsuko to fetch the manual for the long range.

"Not Lili but I think I'm fine as well" said somebody over the radio.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"Just your superior"

"I apologize, Százados, 44M Tas "Turul", commander Ötvös Tamara reporting for duty"

"Very nice you guys made it there in on piece, Lili already told us your progress on the Tas and frankly you guys did a splendid job"

"Thank you Ma'am"

"Get your asses over here, time to meet the team"

We parked the tank in front of Emese and got out of the tank. The rest of the sensha-dou class was there with the basic team: two Tigers, two Panthers, four Turán Is, four Turán IIs, five Panzer IVs, four Zrínyi 105s and four 75s, one Toldi I and two Toldi IIs. Which made it hundred and twenty eight people in this class. No way I would ever remember that many names. Every one of them gathered around us.

"Ladies" started Emese "These girls got the Tas running again. I would like to introduce you commander Ötvös Tamara and her crew: driver Toyota Eimi, gunner Royama Reiko, loader Katsura Fusako, radio operator Ban Jitsuko and however she's not here but our new general maintenance personnel Watabo Aoi"

"Nice job on the Tas, girls!" said somebody from the crowd. Somebody else whistled one and the rest followed with a big applause.

We bowed.

"I am looking forward working with you" I said.

"Allright girls get to know the new ones after class, back to work everybody" said Emese and the rest listened to her.

She turned to us.

"You on the other hand have been working hard, park your tank there next to the other by the shooting range and go get something to eat from the tent"

"Thank you Captain" I said as I saluted.

She returned the salute and went back to training.

"Százados!" I yelled.

"Hmm?"

"What do we do now?"

"Read the manuals, teach the others and each other how to operate the tank effectively, learn the radio, how to rangefind and shoot accurately, the codes used by us and get closer to each other"

"Understood!"

She smiled and climbed up on the nearest Tiger.

"One more thing" she said.

"Yes Ma'am?" I replied.

"If you have any problems come see me, Lili will be arriving soon and she'll be your instructor until you guys menage on your own"

"Yes Ma'am!"

I climbed up the engine and looked around and I took some time to take in the environment.

"Well then" I said to myself "Let's get to work"

[hopeforpeoplefodivha]

Saturday, March 4th, 2017

A Normal Day in Haiti...Requesting a Healing... 7:02am Waiting for pastor to pick us up. We are taking Dieusilhomme to an excellent hospital. 7:46am The tap-tap blew a motor. She's done. Waiting for another vehicle by the side of the road. This experience is getting "old"...we've had vehicle troubles every day...this is Haiti. 9:49am We left the villa at 7am, fought through traffic to arrive at the hospital Bertrand Mevs downtown Port au Prince, by 8:45. Bertony and I have met with a triage doc named Depak, who is down for a one week volunteer stint from North Carolina. Oh how good it was to speak in English! We have paid the admin fee (more standing in line) so that Dieusilhomme can be seen. You actually drive your vehicle right into triage. One doesn't leave their vehicle on the street in this area of Port au Prince. It would be stripped clean. Dieusilhome has been rapidly losing weight over the past 3 months. Several of the children, including D, were ill with fever and gastrointestinal symptoms in January following the hurricane. It seems he has never recovered. However I'm not convinced these are totally related to the symptoms we are seeing now. Everything in this country is always diagnosed and treated first as malaria. Then when they don't recover, you start looking at other things. I've have many close friends who are docs...I am a speech path with another graduate degree in neurology. My friends say, "I have enough med knowledge to be dangerous!"....or at least to be able to advocate and ask the right questions. I hope I can help him today. 10:21am.. We have stood in line yet again to pay for the tests now ordered...blood work, stool, urinalysis, malaria, HIV and a CT scan of brain ($322.00...where does the $22 come from?). You see, I have noticed quite severe ataxia when D tries to walk (in lay man's terms..."he walks like a drunk") and has difficulties planning /controlling motor movements. His left foot is dropping slightly. It is reported that his stools are black..therefore, blood loss from G.I. He has a slight cough (doesn't everyone here with the dust and diesel?). And so, we wait some more, outside in triage in the hot sun. D clutches a small bag of clothes and a water bottle in case he needs to stay the night. While Bertony and I are here, the rest of the team is buying 2 sinks for the bathrooms, 2 drills required for attaching the tin roofing and 2 shovels at the hardware store. Work will be delayed and/or postponed today. It's a 90 min ride to the orphanage in the hills from here. With the daily truck breakdowns we have endured and today's potential loss of work, we are 3 days behind where we need to be. Another problem to solve. However a sick child trumps everything. Our team is learning patience. They are experiencing first hand how difficult life is here and how much time it takes to get anything done. No matter how organized we are before they get here, I have learned on these trips, that you can count on nothing. We try to prioritize and fix one problem at a time. "Fall down seven times, stand up eight!". My mom drilled that into me. 11:12am We are holding up a wall outside one of the multiple buildings in triage. The sun has moved around the building and there is shade. We wait and we wait. Bertony and I are having philosophical conversations about the difficulties that life offers (way too much in this country, for these people to endure each day, in my opinion)..."The Life, is the teacher", says Bertony wisely. We end sharing silence, still holding up the wall. 12:46pm We are back holding up the wall, chasing the shade. I'm losing the game. We are becoming expert "waiters". But at least some good news....no tumour! We had a CT of his head. Medishare donated a portable CT scanner. It lives in an air-conditioned metal transport container. I was allowed to view the results as the pictures were taken. From my "enough medical knowledge to be dangerous", it looked very clear to me. Almost beautiful! We wait for the neurologist...holding up the wall. 1:10pm The team have finished their shopping experience and has decided to make the drive to Thomasseau to unload the vehicle and get a few hours of work in. Traffic in the city is a nightmare. We decided as a team that it is best if I stay here with Bertony at the hospital. We rarely, if ever, split up as a team...like Navy Seals, "no one left behind". Today is an exception to the rule. One of the administrators told me that we're waiting to see neurology doc. So Dieusilhomme and I share trail mix. Bertony has gone "walk about" beyond the "forbidden metal gates" of the hospital compound, seeing if he can source out hearing aid batteries for Dieusilhome. We wait, holding up the wall, chasing the shade. I have one water bottle left. 1:27 Should have brought cards...and toilet paper! 2:28pm Doc Depak and Doc Raj have confirmed that the CT was normal. He also said blood work is normal too...this is becoming a greater mystery. That only leaves stool sample and urinalysis. He is most concerned with the weight loss and the neurological symptoms, at this point, are secondary. He is calling a Haitian doc to come talk with us who is the expert in internal medicine at this hospital. Perhaps he will have ideas of further exploration, I'm concerned that we won't be any closer to getting any answers today. We have to wait for 30 min or so"...which in Haitian time, could mean 2 hours. The water is gone. I found a bathroom. Bertony is now sitting against the wall. 3:31pm So, they found a parasite in the stool sample! Hallelujah! And, he's mildly anemic and a bit dehydrated (isn't everyone in this country?). The end diagnosis was probably a perfect storm: 1. First he had a bad influenza in January which left him immunocompromized. 2. He acquired Guillain-Barre syndrome (a rapid onset muscle weakness beginning in the feet and hands caused by the immune system damaging peripheral nervous system) which started the neuro symptoms. 3. He was given a strong antibiotic which wiped out the flora in his gut, which left him susceptible to other things. The parasite found is not normally hugely pathogenic, except in immuno-supressed patients. They also suspect a salmonella. In lay man's terms...the perfect storm or house of cards. Anyway, Doc Raj kindly called UCLA prof in the USA while we were waiting, to get even another opinion and we are now waiting in front of pharmacy to pay for a cocktail of anti parasitics and antibiotics to kill just about everything...(except roosters!) We will get him on these meds and see how he does in 3 weeks. He has a follow up visit with neuro. It's time to go home. Except...the girl working the cash is "on break"...so there is more waiting. We are told it could be an hour. Welcome To Haiti. These are our days. 4:12pm Gosh I'd love a large Greek salad! I could eat it while I wait! 4:42 The cash lady has come back...we have paid for the stock of meds ($6 in total cost!?!?) that have been put into a small plastic bag and received a "stamp" which will allow us to leave the hospital. Apparently the police have closed the place down for a period of time, because a family has "stolen" the body of someone who has died earlier and they have "questions" of all the staff involved...they suspect foul play from someone in the family...not a dull moment here. This is Haiti and these are our days. We are so thankful to all the docs and nurses at Bernard Mevs Hospital. May they continue their great work. What a blessing. Time to take 3 tap-taps home to the villa. I'll meet up with the team when they arrive home. We shall share stories and play cards this evening. Tomorrow is a day off from work. Their bodies are tired. They have been working so hard. Blessings, Deb P.S. Hi Mom xxx